Chapter 120: A Letter Home Worth a Fortune
The year-end passed in a mixture of deliberate liveliness and lingering chill. Without Gu Yangui, even with the laughter of Mingxuan's children, the meticulous arrangements by the servants, and Su Wanrou's determined efforts, the Zhenguo Duke's Mansion still felt empty, like the pervasive chill of winter, permeating every corner of the mansion.
Su Wanrou was nearly seven months pregnant, and her body was growing increasingly heavy. She entrusted most of the household affairs to her capable steward and nannies, while forcing herself to shift her attention elsewhere—personally supervising Mingxuan's studies, checking the gift lists for the New Year, and even starting to prepare baby clothes. Only by keeping herself busy could she temporarily suppress the agonizing longing and worry in her heart.
That afternoon, fine snowflakes began to fall from the sky. Su Wanrou was leaning against the soft couch in the warm pavilion, sewing a small, soft cotton swaddle blanket by the bright window light. Mingxuan, on the other hand, was lying on the carpet next to him, practicing calligraphy from the "Thousand Character Classic," his little face serious and focused.
"Madam! Madam!" Suddenly, a series of hurried but excited footsteps came from outside. Butler Fu Bo almost stumbled in, forgetting even the most important etiquette he usually observed. He held a long, narrow wooden box wrapped tightly in oilcloth aloft, his voice trembling with excitement, "The border! A letter from the border! It was sent back by the Duke with the utmost urgency!"
With a "clatter," the needle and thread in Su Wanrou's hand fell to the ground. She sat up abruptly, her heart pounding wildly as if gripped by an invisible hand. The baby in her womb seemed to be disturbed by this sudden emotional turmoil, becoming restless and agitated.
"Is it a letter from Father?" Mingxuan immediately dropped his brush and jumped up like a little leopard, staring longingly at the wooden box in Uncle Fu's hand.
"Quick! Bring it here!" Su Wanrou's voice trembled without her even realizing it as she reached out her hand, her fingertips icy cold.
Qingdai quickly stepped forward, took the heavy wooden box from Uncle Fu, and carefully placed it on the low table in front of Su Wanrou. The wooden box still had some unmelted snow and mud on it, and the edges were worn, obviously having gone through wind and rain.
Su Wanrou's hand touched the wooden box; the cool touch gave her a warm sense of security. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart, and said softly to the expectant Mingxuan, "Mingxuan, please help your mother open it, okay?"
Mingxuan nodded vigorously, his small hands clumsily but with unusual seriousness untying the hemp rope binding him, and lifting the lid of the wooden box. Inside lay a thick letter, the envelope made of kraft paper commonly used in the military, bearing Su Wanrou's all-too-familiar, vigorous handwriting:
"My wife Wanrou kisses me"
Those five words alone blurred Su Wanrou's vision instantly. She could almost see him, weathered and worn, leaning over a simple table in the flickering candlelight, his expression focused as he carefully wrote her name, stroke by stroke.
She carefully picked up the letter; the envelope felt heavy, and besides the letter, it seemed to contain something else. She gestured for Qingdai and Uncle Fu to leave, leaving only Mingxuan by her side.
Carefully cutting open the sealing wax with a silver knife, a chilling scent, a mixture of wind, sand, ink, and a faint smell of blood, wafted out—the smell of the frontier, of the battlefield. Su Wanrou's heart tightened again.
She turned the envelope upside down and gave it a gentle shake. What fell out first was a small, withered plant, still discernible in shape, with tiny thorns, grayish and inconspicuous.
"What is this?" Mingxuan asked curiously as he picked it up.
Su Wanrou was taken aback, then a wave of bitterness rushed to her nose. This was… camel thorn. Gu Yangui had once told her that in the northern wilderness, almost nothing grew, except for this camel thorn, which had extremely tenacious vitality and could take root and grow in the harshest environments. He was telling her in this way that he was doing well, as resilient as this camel thorn.
She sniffed and unfolded the thick letter. The paper was rough, the ink uneven in shade, and some words even had a dark smudge next to them—whether from water stains or… she couldn't tell.
Su Wanrou dared not think too deeply about it. She steadied herself and looked intently.
"My wife is so gentle and gentle, she can see her words as well as her face."
The very first sentence brought forth tears she had been holding back for so long, and they finally broke free. She hurriedly wiped them away with her sleeve, afraid that the tears would blur the ink.
"I arrived in Beiliang City at Shenshi on the 29th of the twelfth lunar month. Although the march was arduous, everything went smoothly. The soldiers fought bravely, so please do not worry."
He only reported good news and not bad news, and did not mention the hardships of the journey. However, Su Wanrou could imagine from these few words the hardship of leading tens of thousands of troops to march quickly through the wind and snow in the cold winter when the end of the year was approaching.
"The northern border is bitterly cold, far worse than the capital. Yesterday, another heavy snow fell, turning the world white, and our breath turned to ice. Yet the soldiers and civilians in the city are determined to resist the enemy. Seeing this, my heart also burns with fervor."
He describes both the scenery and the emotions. With just a few words, he sketches the vastness of the frontier and the unity of the people.
"The Rong and Di are cunning. Since their defeat last time, they have been holding their positions in strategic locations and frequently sending small groups of cavalry to harass border villages. I have already made preparations and will lead my elite troops to launch a proactive attack within three days to eliminate their forward strongholds, thereby boosting morale and reassuring the people. War is dangerous, but I am a seasoned veteran and know how to handle things. My wife, you need not worry too much. I will write to you in detail after this battle is over and the situation has stabilized."
He finally brought up the war. Su Wanrou's heart leaped into her throat, her fingers gripping the letter tightly. Taking the initiative…swords have no eyes…she could almost see him on the battlefield, sword in hand, facing the enemy, and she could almost see the fierce battle, arrows flying, blood splattering. She forced herself to read on; what followed was what she most wanted to know.
"All matters at home rest on your shoulders, my dear wife. You are quite ill, so please take extra care of your daily life and don't overwork yourself. As for Mingxuan's studies, just supervise him, but don't be too strict. During the New Year holidays, everyone in the household will be generously rewarded, as a token of my appreciation."
He began to give detailed instructions on household matters, his tone calm, yet every word revealing his concern.
"The North has nothing, except for a kind of dried melon here, which is preserved in honey and has a decent flavor. I'm enclosing some with this letter to help you satisfy your cravings during your pregnancy. Also, I happened to find a piece of warm jade, which feels warm to the touch. I've had the artisans accompanying the army roughly polish it and tied it with a red string. You can place it by your pillow, which may ward off the chill of this place."
The ink seemed to pause for a long time at this point on the letter. The handwriting in the next paragraph was slightly more hasty than before, as if the writer also had a thousand emotions that were difficult to suppress.
"Wanrou, it feels like a lifetime has passed since we parted. In the dead of night in the army camp, the wind and snow howl outside the tent, and the lamp inside burns dimly. I think only of you and our child. I recall the night before I left home, your profound sense of righteousness, your suppressed sobs, and the first movement of our child in your womb... Whenever I think of these things, my heart is filled with both warmth and shame. Warmth because my wife is like this, what more could a husband ask for? Shame because during this festive season, with war raging, I cannot be by your side with Mingxuan to share the joys of family life."
Su Wanrou's tears welled up again, dripping onto the letter and spreading a small wet patch. He understood everything—her strength, her reluctance to part, her fear… Though he wasn't by her side, he felt her pain deeply.
"As I write this, the wind and snow outside the window intensify, but thinking of your and our child's expectant eyes in the capital, my heart burns with a fierce fire, fearless. Wanrou, take good care of yourself and Mingxuan during your pregnancy. Once I have cleared the border troubles and crushed the enemy, I will ride swiftly home to reunite with you."
"This letter is short, but my feelings for you are deep. Please take care. Don't worry about me."
"A letter written by my husband upon returning from a banquet"
"Written on the third day of the first month of the seventeenth year of Tianyou in Beiliang City."
At the end of the letter, there were no fancy words, only the simplest signature and location. The date was the third day of the first lunar month, and today is the tenth. This letter has been on the road for seven days.
Su Wanrou clutched the letter tightly to her chest, as if she could feel his lingering warmth and breath. She closed her eyes, letting the tears flow freely, but this time, it wasn't pure sorrow, but rather a warmth and strength from being cared for and understood.
"Mother, what did Father say in his letter? Is he alright? Does he miss Mingxuan?" Mingxuan anxiously tugged at her sleeve.
Su Wanrou wiped away her tears, hugged her son, pointed to the letter, and in a gentle yet firm voice, read its contents to him little by little in words the child could understand. She told him that her father had gone to a very cold place and was fighting bad guys and protecting the people; her father praised Mingxuan for being sensible and told him to study hard; her father had also found some delicious dried melon and specially brought it back for them…
Mingxuan's eyes lit up, his little face full of pride: "I knew Daddy was the best!"
Only then did Su Wanrou notice that there was indeed something else in the envelope. She emptied it out; it was a small package wrapped in soft cloth, containing several pieces of golden-yellow dried melon, emitting a sweet fragrance. There was also a piece of uncarved, blue-green jade about the size of an egg, which felt warm to the touch, simply tied with a red silk cord.
She held the warm jade in her hand, and the warmth seemed to flow from her palm into the deepest part of her heart.
"Qingdai," she called out, "distribute the dried melons that the Duke sent back, and let Mingxuan and the head maids have a taste. Then go to the storeroom and, according to the old custom, give everyone in the mansion an extra bonus, saying that the Duke, though far away at the border, is concerned about everyone and specially instructed this."
"Yes, Madam!" Qingdai replied happily and left.
Su Wanrou carefully wore the warm jade around her neck, placing it close to her skin. Then, she picked up her pen again and spread out the letter paper.
She wanted to write back to him. She wanted to tell him that everything was fine at home, that Mingxuan had grown taller, that her pregnancy was going well, and that the New Year celebrations had been lively... She also wanted to tell him that it had snowed in the capital, that the plum blossoms were in full bloom, and that she would go for a walk in the courtyard every day, hoping that when he returned, he would see the spring flowers in full bloom.
She wanted to write down her longing, her strength, and her daily trivialities in the letter. She wanted this letter to travel across mountains and rivers to reach him, becoming his warmest and most steadfast comfort amidst the freezing cold and the clash of swords.
War raged for three months, a letter from home was worth a fortune. At this moment, she deeply understood the weight of this saying. These few thin pages carried a bond that transcended life and death, and all the courage that sustained them on their journey together.
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