Chapter 72: A Letter Expressing Longing
It was dusk when General Zhao was seen off. The last rays of the setting sun bathed the eaves of the Duke's mansion in a warm golden glow. Su Wanrou stood under the eaves, gazing in the direction where General Zhao's figure had disappeared, motionless for a long time, until Yunbin softly reminded her, "Madam, it's getting windy, be careful not to catch a cold." Only then did she snap out of her reverie, pull her clothes tighter, and turn to go back inside.
During dinner, Mingxuan could clearly sense that his mother's mood was different from the previous days. Although she still gently served him food and asked him about his studies during the day, the slight sorrow that had settled between her brows seemed to have been blown away by the wind, and a faint, bright halo appeared deep in her eyes.
"Mother, you seem very happy today?" Mingxuan asked, blinking his big eyes as he took a bite of rice.
Su Wanrou was slightly taken aback, then smiled and placed a piece of his favorite rouge goose breast into his bowl, saying softly, "Because Father wrote a letter. Father is doing well in Shuofang City. Aren't you happy, Xuan'er?"
"I'm so happy!" Mingxuan immediately responded loudly, a big smile spreading across his face. "Did Father mention me? Did he say he missed me?"
“Of course he mentioned it,” Su Wanrou said, her heart softening as she looked at her son’s expectant eyes. She then relayed the part of the letter about him to him in a more childlike way, “Your father praised you for being sensible and told you to study hard, but not to overwork yourself and to remember to play. He also said that he would check your riding and archery skills when he comes back.”
Mingxuan's eyes lit up as he listened, so much so that he forgot to eat properly, excitedly planning to practice his martial arts a few more times and write a few more pages of calligraphy the next day. Watching his joyful expression, Su Wanrou felt an even stronger sense of security and warmth from the letter home.
After dinner, she coaxed Mingxuan to sleep, but Su Wanrou was wide awake. She had Yunbin prepare hot water, took a thorough bath, and then changed into a comfortable moon-white soft satin nightgown. Over it, she wore a light purple cotton long vest embroidered with lotus patterns. Her long, black hair was loosely tied up with a simple jade hairpin, revealing her smooth forehead and a slender, fair neck.
"You may all go and rest. There's no need for you to serve here." She walked to the desk by the window and instructed Yunbin and another head maid.
"Yes, Madam. I will keep watch outside. If you need anything, just give me a call." Yunbin replied, quickly lighting the silver lamp with lotus blossoms on the desk, checking that there was enough oil, before quietly leaving and gently closing the door.
The room fell silent, save for the occasional crackling of the lamplight and the chirping of unknown autumn insects outside the window. The bright moonlight streamed in through the half-open sliding window, mingling with the warm candlelight and casting soft shadows on the polished gold-brick floor.
Su Wanrou sat down in the cushioned rosewood armchair, her gaze falling on a corner of the desk. There, neatly arranged, were the writing implements she had Yunbin find: a stack of fine Xue Tao paper, a superior Duan inkstone, a wolf-hair brush that Gu Yangui usually used, and a piece of pine soot ink that he liked. She reached out, her fingertips gently brushing against the cool inkstone and brush handle, as if she could still feel his lingering warmth and breath.
She took a deep breath, picked up the heavy inkstick, poured a little water into the inkstone, rolled up her sleeves, and began to slowly grind the ink in circles. The inkstick rubbed against the inkstone, making a soft, rustling sound that was particularly clear in the quiet night. This sound strangely soothed the last trace of turmoil in her heart, calming her completely.
The clear water gradually turned a dark, glossy black, emitting the distinctive, crisp aroma of pine smoke. Su Wanrou stopped what she was doing, put the inkstone away, and then spread out a sheet of light pink Xue Tao paper. She picked up the wolf-hair brush, dipped it heavily in the inkstone, and held her wrist and elbow suspended, but the tip of the brush hesitated to fall.
A thousand words are stuck in my chest, and I don't know where to begin.
During the day, in front of the old lady and Mingxuan, she had to maintain the composure of a mistress and the gentleness of a mother. Only at this moment, in front of this plain piece of paper, could she pour out her delicate feelings and surging concerns that were hidden deep in her heart and belonged only to a young woman.
She recalled his words in his letter, "Thinking of my wife's gentle yet strong nature," she remembered the few purple bell petals that had traveled across mountains and rivers, he blamed himself for "owing her so much," and he thought of her longing in the quiet of the night... Every word was like a pebble thrown into the lake of her heart, stirring up ripples.
The ink on the tip of the brush gradually condensed, about to drip. Su Wanrou finally stopped hesitating and made the first stroke.
"To my husband upon his return from the banquet:"
As she wrote down this address, her cheeks flushed slightly. Although they had been married for several months, this was the first time she had addressed him so formally as "husband" in a letter. It made her feel that their relationship had become even more intimate and solemn because of the distance and the act of writing.
"Seeing this letter is like seeing you in person. This afternoon, I received a letter from my husband, along with some purple bellflower petals. How delighted I am! We have been apart for half a month, with no word from you. My heart has been like a flag hanging in the air, swaying uncertainly. Now, I have suddenly received your letter. I have read it over and over again. Between the lines, it is as if I see your face and hear your voice. Only then do I feel at peace."
As she wrote these words, she could almost see him sitting in his military tent in Shuofang, reading her reply under the lamplight. She wanted him to know how important his letter was to her, like a long-awaited rain to quench her parched heart.
"My husband has arrived safely in Shuofang, and everything in the army is going smoothly. This is a blessing for our family. When my grandmother heard this, she was also very pleased and kept saying that Buddha had blessed us. I also burned incense and prayed that my husband would soon achieve complete success and return safely."
She first reassured him that she was safe, putting his mind at ease. Then, her writing naturally turned to household matters, all of which he had inquired about in his letter.
“Autumn is deepening in the capital these days. The osmanthus flowers have faded, but the chrysanthemums are in full bloom. My grandmother is in good health and has a vigorous spirit. She chants Buddhist prayers and takes walks every day, and her diet is normal. I pay my respects to her every morning and evening and attend to her. My grandmother often talks about my husband and tells me that when I write to her, I must tell him to take care of his health and not to worry about the family.”
She paused here, a gentle smile unconsciously spreading across her lips, and began to describe Mingxuan's situation in detail.
"Xuan'er is very well-behaved and sensible. During the day, he studies and practices calligraphy with great diligence, and his teacher has praised his significant progress. In his spare time, he either practices martial arts or plays with the nine-linked rings that my husband gave him. He is occasionally mischievous, but he is innocent and adorable. Last night at dinner, he learned of his father's letter and was overjoyed. He ate half a bowl more than usual and kept asking when his father would return so he could demonstrate his newly learned martial arts. I have prepared a small gift according to his wishes, which is a painting he made himself, titled 'Father and Son Returning from the Hunt.' Although the brushwork is immature, the sentiment is heartfelt. I hope my husband will smile when he sees it."
She could almost picture the tender expression on Gu Yangui's usually stern face when he saw the whimsical painting. These everyday, warm details might be more comforting to him than a thousand words of longing during his time on the frontier.
After recounting her family affairs, her writing gradually became more intimate and tender, finally finding an outlet for the thoughts she couldn't express to others during the day.
"Since my husband left, all matters in the manor have been handled in accordance with his instructions before his departure, discussed with Steward Gu and the other stewards. Fortunately, with everyone's cooperation, there have been no mistakes. However, whenever I am alone, especially in the dead of night, facing the lamp and listening to the water clock, I cannot help but have many thoughts."
“I remember when my husband was still at home, although he was busy with official duties, we would gather together at dinner time, chatting about everyday things, and we would be very happy. Sometimes when he had some free time, he would teach me to ride a horse, supervise Xuan’er’s studies, and we would be together in the study. Even if we didn’t say anything, I felt at peace. Now, in the deep courtyard, I can only see the moon’s shadow slanting in the west. Only now do I understand what it means to regret ‘teaching my husband to seek fame and fortune’.”
The ancient poem came to mind, surprising and embarrassing her. She had never imagined that she would have such a "petty" thought. Yet, it was her truest feeling; she would rather he were just an ordinary man, someone she could be with every day, than someone separated by thousands of miles, living in fear and anxiety.
"However, I also know that my husband bears the imperial mandate to guard the borders, which is the duty of a true and upright man. Although I am a woman, I understand the greater good and dare not let personal feelings interfere with public duty. I only hope that my husband will be cautious in all matters while in the army and not be distracted by my thoughts. The north is bitterly cold and the wind and sand are fierce, so I hope that you will eat well and add clothes in time. While I am in the capital, I will certainly do my duty, serve my grandmother, raise our young children, and manage the household affairs. When you return victorious, I will surely give you a peaceful and stable home as before."
This was her promise, and also her strength. She didn't want to be a burden to him, but rather a pillar of support that would allow him to fight with peace of mind.
Finally, her gaze fell upon the small, sealed brocade box containing a jasmine sachet on the corner of her desk. She thought for a moment, then picked up her pen and added:
"Enclosed with this letter is a soothing sachet that I have been using recently. It contains jasmine, daylily and other herbs, and has a delicate fragrance. It may help my husband relieve some fatigue after his military duties and allow him to sleep peacefully. The needlework is rough, so please do not find it offensive."
"Words cannot express the depth of my feelings. The winds of the north are cold; please take good care of yourself. My son, grandmother, and I wait by the door every day, hoping for your triumphant return."
She hesitated for a moment at the signature. Ultimately, instead of writing the formal "Written by my wife, Wanrou," she wrote three words with a hint of embarrassment:
"Gentle Hands"
Late at night on a certain day of a certain month of a certain year
After finishing writing, she gently put down her pen and let out a long sigh, as if she had poured all the longing, worry, strength, and tenderness that had been building up in her heart for half a month onto this thin piece of paper through her pen and ink.
She picked up the letter and carefully examined it from beginning to end, confirming that there were no mistakes and that the handwriting was neat and legible. After the ink had completely dried, she carefully folded it, placed it in a pre-prepared envelope, sealed it with sealing wax, and stamped it with her small personal seal.
By the time she finished, it was already late at night. The moonlight outside the window was like water, and all was quiet. Su Wanrou placed the sealed letter and the small brocade box side by side on her desk in a conspicuous place. She could have them sent to the post station first thing tomorrow morning to be sent to Shuofang as quickly as possible.
She blew out the lamp, leaving only a small nightlight, then walked to the window, opened it, and let the cool night breeze caress her face. Looking up, she saw a bright moon hanging high in the sky, its gentle light bathing the world.
May we all live long and share the beauty of the moon, even though we are thousands of miles apart.
She recited softly, her heart filled with peace and certainty.
This reply, carrying her longing, her promises, and the little things of her daily life, is about to cross mountains and rivers to reach him. She knows he will understand all the unspoken feelings she conveys between the lines.
The longing is fully expressed through my writing. But life must go on, and I will carry this warm affection with me as I await the day of reunion.
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