The memories in the dream became complete
Following Ya Huan and the others towards the forsythia grove by the palace wall, we found that the snow had mostly melted, revealing the cobblestone path beneath. The damp scent of earth filled the air as we walked. Consort Rong walked beside me, carrying a small bamboo basket, occasionally bending down to pick newly sprouted wild vegetables from the roadside, saying she would use them as ingredients for Consort Su. Consort Li and the Dowager Consort Xian walked ahead, discussing what flowers to plant in the summer. Ya Huan skipped and hopped ahead, frequently turning back to urge us to hurry.
But a question has been lingering in my mind—if everyone in the Cold Palace is a replica of my childhood memories, then what about the Empress? Who is the Empress who always suppresses us and creates trouble in the shadows, from my memories?
"Sister Zhao, why are you daydreaming again?" Ya Huan ran back, grabbed my hand and shook it. "There are lots of forsythia flowers up ahead. Consort Su said to pick more, they're good for drying and making tea or desserts." I snapped out of my reverie and followed her forward, my gaze falling on the palace wall—the red walls there were mottled, exactly like the walls of the Cold Palace, but suddenly they reminded me of the gray wall outside my childhood courtyard, where morning glories always climbed. And Aunt Zhang from next door always loved to stand by the wall, pointing and gesturing at us in the yard.
While picking forsythia blossoms, Consort Su suddenly said, "Last time the Empress sent people to search, luckily we didn't have any contraband, otherwise who knows how much trouble we would have caused." Her words were like a fuse, instantly igniting the doubts in my heart. I looked at the forsythia blossoms in my hand, their petals a tender yellow, and suddenly remembered when I was little, Aunt Zhang always liked to say that we "made a mess of the yard" and "disturbed her rest." She even threw the grass rabbit that Ya Huan had placed by the wall into the trash can, saying, "Don't put dirty things by my wall."
“The Empress seems to always dislike us,” Consort Rong whispered, her bamboo basket already half-filled with forsythia. “Every time we get a little lively, she sends someone to cause trouble.” These words sent a chill down my spine—Aunt Zhang from my childhood was the same way. When we were making snacks or playing the electronic keyboard in the yard, she would always complain loudly over the fence, saying things like, “Children shouldn’t have so many tricks up their sleeves,” and “You’re making so much noise I can’t do my chores.” She even told the property management that we were “damaging the neighborhood environment.”
Consort Li picked the largest forsythia flower, tucked it into her hair, and said with a smile, "The more she dislikes us, the more we should live our lives well, so she knows that life in the Cold Palace is much more comfortable than her Phoenix Palace." Looking at Consort Li's smile, I suddenly remembered when I was little, Aunt Zhang would complain about how noisy we were playing the electronic keyboard. Consort Li—who was the older sister of the neighborhood at the time—would turn down the volume of the keyboard, but still insisted on playing the pieces we liked, saying, "We didn't do anything wrong, we don't need to be afraid of her."
"The Empress is just jealous of how happy we are," said Consort Xian, sitting on a rock to rest, holding a forsythia flower in her hand. "She's all alone in Fengyi Palace, watching us having so much fun, and she's just resentful." These words completely woke me up—Aunt Zhang from my childhood, whose husband was away most of the year and whose children weren't around, was always alone at home. Every time she saw our courtyard bustling with activity, her eyes were filled with complex emotions, a mixture of envy and jealousy, which is why she would occasionally cause us some minor trouble.
The Empress's prototype was Aunt Zhang, who always stood by the wall in my childhood, complaining yet somewhat lonely. She wasn't a truly "bad person," but because of her own loneliness, she couldn't bear to see others having fun, so she subconsciously created trouble, just like the Empress in the Cold Palace. Because she didn't have genuine companionship in the Phoenix Palace, she couldn't bear to see us supporting each other and living warmly in the Cold Palace.
"Sister Zhao, look how many forsythia flowers I picked!" Ya Huan ran over, holding a handful of forsythia flowers, the petals still glistening with dew. "Consort Rong said she'd embroider a forsythia flower sachet for me, and Consort Su said she'd make forsythia flower cakes. We're going to have a lively time today!" I took the forsythia flowers from her hand, my fingertips touching the soft petals. My doubts were finally resolved, replaced by a sense of relief.
It turns out there was no real "villain" in this dream. The empress's existence was just an unpleasant episode from my childhood memories, a projection of the lonely Aunt Zhang in my subconscious. The trouble she caused was merely an attempt to attract attention, but she used the wrong methods, just like the empress in the cold palace, using the suppression of others to mask her loneliness.
As I walked back, I looked at everyone around me—Ya Huan was skipping and hopping as she wove grass worms, Consort Rong and Consort Li were quietly discussing the design of embroidered purses, Consort Su was calculating how many pastries could be made from forsythia blossoms, and Consort Xian was walking slowly behind, occasionally picking up pebbles from the roadside—their smiles were genuine and warm, and I suddenly felt that even if the Empress were Aunt Zhang from my memories, it wouldn't matter. Because the most precious thing about this dream, this memory, isn't the absence of worries, but that we could always face worries together, and in warm companionship, turn unhappy things into fleeting clouds.
When we returned to the Cold Palace, the sun had already set, and the golden afterglow bathed the courtyard, casting a warm glow on the wintersweet and peach trees. Consort Su went to the kitchen to prepare spring flower cakes, Consort Rong and Consort Li sat under the eaves embroidering purses, Ya Huan pulled me to weave grass insects, and the Dowager Consort Xian sat in a rattan chair, watching us with a gratified smile on her lips.
I sat on the veranda, holding the blades of grass Ya Huan handed me, trying to weave a straw rabbit. The soft "drip-drip" sound was almost drowned out by our laughter. I knew this dream might end soon, but I was no longer afraid, because I had rediscovered those forgotten childhood memories, found the prototypes of everyone in the Cold Palace, and understood the meaning of this dream—it wasn't an escape from reality, but a warm reflection on childhood, a subconscious longing for companionship and beauty.
At night, I lay in bed, clutching the forsythia sachet that Consort Rong had embroidered during the day. The petals on the sachet were lifelike, carrying a faint fragrance. I closed my eyes, and scenes from my childhood courtyard floated into my mind—under the old locust tree, we wove grass crickets together, made snacks, and played the electronic keyboard. Aunt Zhang stood by the wall, her face showing a hint of complaint, but she quietly placed the rose seeds she had grown by the wall for us to pick.
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