Further collapse
I knelt before Consort Rong, my fingertips repeatedly tracing her cold, stiff cheeks. Tears fell onto her sleeves, but they were like stones, not penetrating at all—the fabric remained dry, not even a wrinkle had changed. The stiff smile on her lips was still frozen in the moment she repeated "picking peach blossoms," her pupils empty, no longer reflecting my image.
“Consort Rong, look at me,” I choked out, pressing my face against the back of her hand. The icy touch reminded me of the biting cold when I fell into the frozen lake during training. “We promised to embroider the garden with flowers and plants together. You haven’t even taught me how to embroider roses yet. How can you just stand there like this?”
There was no response. Only Ya Huan's mechanical counting continued: "One, two, three... one, two, three..." The tonics in the brocade box were still piling up wildly, already overflowing the edge of the table. Bird's nest and ginseng rolled all over the floor, only to disappear the moment they hit the ground, returning to the brocade box again, endlessly, like a farce that never stopped.
The forsythia in Su Fei's hand had grown to the height of a person, its petals layered upon each other, completely obscuring her figure, revealing only a hand suspended in mid-air, still in the posture of holding the flower. But the next second, the clump of forsythia suddenly withered and turned to ash, scattered by a gust of wind, and Su Fei's figure reappeared, still holding the original dried forsythia in her hand, as if the previous rampant growth was just an illusion.
I scrambled to my feet and stumbled to Consort Xian's side. I picked up the osmanthus cake that had fallen to the ground but then spontaneously restored itself, and held it to her lips. "Consort Xian, please try this. It's your favorite osmanthus cake. Didn't you say you'd wait until I recovered before we brewed tea and ate it together?"
Her eyes slowly rolled around, and she finally opened her mouth, but didn't bite into the osmanthus cake. She just mechanically repeated, "Osmanthus cake is sweet, osmanthus cake is sweet." Her voice was hollow, without any inflection, like a distorted recording from an old radio. I put the osmanthus cake into her hand, and her fingers stiffly closed, tightly gripping the cake, but she didn't make any other movements.
The little peach tree in the corner of the courtyard is still struggling in the cycle of "blooming and closing". When the peach blossoms are in full bloom, I seem to see Ya Huan weaving straw rabbits under the tree, Consort Rong sitting to the side embroidering handkerchiefs, and Consort Su coming over with a food box, smiling and calling us to have some snacks - that is the spring scene I cherish the most. But the next second, the peach blossoms wither and fall, the tree shadows turn back into bare branches, and even the fallen leaves on the ground disappear completely.
"Don't change!" I rushed over and hugged the peach tree trunk, but the rough feel of the bark suddenly disappeared, replaced by the softness of a hospital bed sheet—the scene before my eyes suddenly swayed, the walls of the cold palace transformed into white hospital ward walls, and the "beep beep" sound in my ears suddenly became clear and piercing, mixed with the doctor's voice: "The patient's vital signs are unstable, prepare adrenaline!"
I snapped back to reality. The peach tree's texture returned to its rough bark, yet the warmth of the bedsheet lingered in my palm. Cold sweat soaked my back. I knew this was a dream fighting against reality; the warmth I desperately wanted to hold onto was being torn apart by reality, bit by bit.
Suddenly, the pipa in Consort Li's arms emitted a piercing twang, not the "Spring River Flower Moon Night" she often played, but a chaotic cacophony. The cracks on the instrument began to spread again, this time without healing themselves. Black lines coiled around the instrument like vines, and finally, with a "crack," the pipa shattered in two. Yet Consort Li remained in the same posture, holding the instrument, her fingertips suspended in mid-air, completely unaware of the vibrations from the broken strings.
"Consort Li!" I rushed over, picked up the pieces of the pipa from the ground, and those wooden fragments suddenly transformed into bullet casings used in training in my hands, cold and hard, still smelling of gunpowder—fragments of memory were at play again, and the Cold Palace before my eyes began to overlap with the battlefield, Consort Rong's face became the appearance of a fallen comrade, and the voice of the Empress Dowager became the captain's last command: "Lin Zhao, live on!"
"I don't want to live!" I roared, throwing the spent cartridge cases on the ground. The fragments turned back into pieces of pipa wood. "I just want to stay here and live with you all, even if it's just a dream, I'll accept it!"
The beeping of the electrocardiogram monitor suddenly slowed down, as if it was about to stop. I staggered back to Consort Rong's side, pressed her stiff hand against my face, and tried to wake her with my body heat: "Consort Rong, wake up. The Empress has also sent fertilizer. We need to fertilize the peach trees together. When the peach blossoms bloom, Ya Huan will also weave straw rabbits to put under the trees. You can't just give up like this."
Just then, Consort Rong's finger suddenly twitched.
I looked up abruptly, my heart pounding: "Consort Rong? Did you hear me?"
Her lips remained stiff, but she no longer repeated "picking peach blossoms." Instead, she managed to utter a few words, her voice barely audible, like a mosquito's buzz: "Ah Zhao... don't... be afraid..."
I froze, and tears welled up again. But before I could respond, her fingers stiffened again, the glimmer of light in her eyes vanished completely, and they returned to their previous empty state. The movement just now seemed like my imagination.
Ya Huan's counting suddenly stopped. She looked up, her eyes still vacant, but she stretched out her hand towards me and mechanically said, "Sister Zhao... the grass rabbit... is finished..."
I followed her hand and saw a grass rabbit on the ground, exactly the same as the one she had given to Consort Li. But the next second, the grass rabbit turned to ashes, and Ya Huan's hand fell back to her side as she began counting again: "One, two, three... one, two, three..."
Despair overwhelmed me like a tidal wave. I knew it wasn't that they didn't want to respond to me, but that the dream couldn't hold on any longer; those warm memories were being swallowed up little by little, leaving only numb repetition and chaotic scenes.
I curled up on the ground, looking at the familiar yet unfamiliar crowd before me. The beeping sounds around me mingled with the sounds of gunfire, my teammates' screams, and the doctor's commands, almost tearing my consciousness apart. But I still gritted my teeth and refused to close my eyes—I was afraid that if I closed them, even these fragmented afterimages would disappear, and I wouldn't be able to hold onto this shattered dream.
“I want to live with you,” I whispered hoarsely to the empty courtyard, “even if it’s just looking at you like this, even if you never respond to me again, I want to stay here…”
The little peach tree bloomed for the last time, and this time the peach blossoms were exceptionally vibrant, as if stained with blood. A gust of wind blew, and the petals fell in a flurry, landing on Consort Rong, Consort Xian, Consort Su, and Ya Huan, but without lingering, passing right through them—their figures began to become transparent, like water vapor, slowly dissipating.
The beeping of the electrocardiogram monitor paused for another second, this time for an even longer pause. I knew reality was pulling me back, but I still reached out, trying to grasp those transparent figures, trying to hold onto the last vestiges of warmth.
"Don't leave me..."
My fingertips slipped through Consort Rong's transparent sleeves, grasping nothing. Only her last, faint words, "Don't be afraid," still echoed in the empty Cold Palace, mingling with the gradually clearing "drip-drip" sound, binding my shattering consciousness.
I haven't woken up yet, but I'm already about to lose this dream. But I still don't want to give up—as long as there's a sliver of a memory left, I want to stay here, guarding the warmth I cherish most, even if the price is being trapped in this collapsing cycle forever.
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