If there is an afterlife
The autumn hunt concluded successfully, and the two returned home together in a carriage.
Every time he thought back, a bitter feeling would fill his heart. He thought... if Qin Mohe were dead... would she truly belong to him completely? This thought was terrifying, and he quickly dismissed it.
The study was dimly lit, and the affairs of the court were truly vexing.
"Bang bang—" The study door was knocked on.
"Enter."
A servant pushed open the door and entered, bowing respectfully. "My lord, the Ninth Prince wishes to invite you to stay in the palace for a while."
"Rest?" A cold glint flashed in his deep eyes, but more than that, it was unease.
"Yes, the Ninth Prince said he can give you everything you want."
This is clearly an attempt to recruit him. The court is now divided into two factions: the Crown Prince's faction and the Ninth Prince's faction. Winning hearts and minds is paramount, and he's currently in Qin Mohe's faction. Is Qin Fensheng trying to poach him?
He seemed indifferent, as if he wouldn't change his mind easily anyway. "Tell him I'm not feeling well and won't be going."
"Yes, sir." The servant obeyed, bowed, and took his leave.
Peng Xuan'an felt a sudden pang of melancholy. Analyzing the current situation, the emperor was entering his decline, and the next ruler had already been decided. What exactly was Qin Fensheng's intention? He had occasionally paid attention to this thirteen-year-old boy; he seemed quite ambitious, and he wondered if he was eyeing the throne.
The bright light gradually disappeared, and the candlelight flickered and swayed.
Four months have passed in the blink of an eye, not long after the Lunar New Year's Eve.
Bright red slag still clung to the snow, icicles formed on the eaves, and the sun in the sky carried a faint warmth.
As night fell, the temperature dropped to negative numbers, and a brazier was lit in the master bedroom, instantly warming it up.
"Madam! Madam!" A hurried shout interrupted Pang Linqiu's thoughts.
Pang Linqiu looked up, wondering what the little girl was in such a hurry for. "What's wrong? Why are you so impatient?" she asked, stopping her pen.
Lanmo was heartbroken, her chest heaving as she gasped for breath. She patted her chest to calm herself. She pointed outside, "Madam... His Highness the Crown Prince... has passed away."
Pang Linqiu was shocked and stood up in disbelief, grabbing Lan Mo's shoulders with a serious expression: "You... what did you say?!"
"His Highness the Crown Prince... was assassinated on his way back to the palace and has died..."
"!!" Her legs went weak, and her whole body went limp. She couldn't believe it! How could this be?
“Dead…?…” She looked at Lanmo in despair.
Lanmo sadly recounted, "This evening, the Crown Prince returned to the palace... He was attacked on the way, struck in the chest by a poisoned arrow, and surrounded by several assassins..."
"Enough!" she shouted.
Tears welled up in her eyes without her noticing; panic, helplessness, and distress surged within her, a jumble of emotions churning within her. It was terribly painful for her; how could this have happened?
She turned around, hurriedly grabbed a coat, draped it over her shoulders, and headed towards the door. "Lanmo! Prepare the carriage for the palace!" She was extremely anxious to verify the truth and wished she could be in the palace immediately.
It was still snowing lightly outside, and the wind was biting cold, but she didn't care about anything else; she just wanted to hurry! Faster!
Scenes from the past flashed through her mind. Why? Why did this happen? She couldn't understand. Qin Mohe was a kind and gentle person, and everyone liked him. How could he... be assassinated? He was such a good person, how could he have enemies?
The entire journey was filled with unease, anxious speculation, unpleasant imaginings, fear, pain, and distress. How can one describe this unbelievable feeling? How can the fear of loss be simply and clearly explained?
Upon entering the palace, everyone, from top to bottom, wore solemn expressions, not daring to utter a single smile. The snow was falling at the worst possible time, and the darkness made it nearly impossible to see ahead. Even though lanterns were there to dispel the surrounding darkness, why... did I feel so lost, wandering around like a headless fly?
Lan Mo and Xi Shuang ran after her, leaving them far behind. She just wanted to see Qin Mohe as soon as possible!
The snow was still falling, and she, like the tiles on the palace wall, felt extremely uncomfortable under the weight of the frost.
Why is this palace path so long? It seems endless. She was anxious, panicked, and incredulous.
Why? Why? This winter is so cold? So unbearable?
She rushed to the Crown Prince's residence, then froze. The white clothes and white silk... how could they be so jarring? She cautiously stepped inside, carefully surveying her surroundings. The once vibrant Crown Prince's palace was now nothing but monotonous white, and the palace servants wore expressions of sorrow.
The courtyard was deathly still, and the sound of weeping only added to the desolation. She tremblingly pushed open the vermilion door and saw a person kneeling in front of the mourning hall.
She recognized that familiar figure—it was Shu An! Shu An!
She wanted to cry out, but when she saw the coffin, she couldn't hold back anymore. Tears streamed down her face, her heart ached, and she could hardly breathe.
The name I wanted to call out turned into sobs.
Shu An turned around at the sound, her eyes red and filled with pain; she couldn't cry anymore. Her eyes burned with pain, and she couldn't accept this reality.
“Zhichun, you’ve come…” her voice was weak.
"Shu An..." Pang Linqiu saw her haggard face, walked over and hugged her tightly.
"Brother Mohe...how could this be..."
Shu An touched her head and said sadly, "I don't know... how he suddenly..." She couldn't finish her sentence, her chest filled with sorrow.
Shu An felt a damp heat on her shoulder, and silently shed hot tears. She patted her back and gently comforted her, "Zhi Chun, be good, you still have me."
Pang Linqiu hugged her even tighter, "Shu An..." She was extremely reluctant to let her go. She knew... Shu An would leave too, her only good friend would leave...
Peng Xuan'an returned to the manor, but Pang Linqiu was nowhere to be seen. He also learned that Qin Mohe was dead...
He stood before the desk, picked up the calligraphy brush that Pang Linqiu hadn't hung up, and lowered his eyes, his expression slightly somber, as he looked at the contents of the document. He stood there for a long time, and it was only after a long while that he slowly came back to his senses.
Qin Mohe is dead... dead...
He rubbed his forehead and smiled bitterly, his eyes filled with pain and self-blame. More than ten years of brotherhood had been severed now, and they were now separated by death. How could he not be heartbroken?
It was past midnight, and she still hadn't returned.
His heart was in turmoil. This was the time for vigil, the night for his wives and concubines to keep vigil... She was at her wit's end...
Thinking about this made him feel agitated. She had a wife and family, and her relationship with Qin Mohe was only that of friends. She had no obligation to keep her promise.
He got up to go out and find her, and just as he put on a coat, the door suddenly opened.
When Pang Linqiu returned, she exuded an aura of sorrow. She stood outside, arms crossed, seemingly oblivious to the cold. The coat she had worn when she left was nowhere to be seen; she had returned in only light clothing.
Peng Xuan'an rushed forward to check on her, but when he held her hands, they were as cold as ice. He was heartbroken and quickly closed the door, then filled a basin with warm water to wipe her cold hands.
He could see that she was heartbroken, as if she had lost a lover and was completely distraught. He felt a double pain in his heart, the pain of losing her, and the pain of seeing her like this.
He was clearly her husband, the one who spent more time with her, and the one who devoted more energy and time to her.
Once her body had warmed up enough, Peng Xuan'an carried her to bed, extinguished the candle, and covered her with a blanket.
He was so sad, so heartbroken. He hugged her from behind and whispered in her ear, "If I died, would you... be this sad?" He really wanted to know.
Pang Linqiu remained silent.
Seeing that she remained silent for a long time, his heart ached as if it were being torn apart. He whispered bitterly in her ear, "You still... love him, don't you?" His question was filled with fear, as if he were about to break.
He smiled bitterly, suppressing the surging disappointment in his heart: "Your feelings for him have never been completely severed." Like a withered leaf falling in autumn, it was desolate and sorrowful.
He felt increasingly resentful: "I am clearly your husband... the one who will spend the rest of your life with you and grow old together..." instead of Qin Mohe.
She turned around and buried herself in his arms. Peng Xuan'an was instantly stunned. He felt her trembling slightly against his chest. Was she afraid? Sad? For him?
A warm, damp sensation welled up at her chest; she cried. In the quiet bedroom, the cold wind howled through the curtains, making her voice inexplicably loud.
She apologized softly, "I'm sorry," her voice tinged with sadness.
He was stunned. He had so much more to say, so many words he wanted to express. He wanted to tell her that he had always loved her deeply, so why couldn't she turn around and look at his heart, the heart that beat for her?
Her simple "I'm sorry" held back a thousand unspoken words, leaving her unable to utter them and swallowing them back down. All her emotions were suppressed in her heart, unable to be expressed.
He was sad and he hated her, but he couldn't do anything about her.
He raised his hand halfway in the air, hesitated for a moment, then placed it on the back of her head, gently stroking her, his tone tender yet carrying a deliberately suppressed sadness: "It's alright... I'll wait for you."
When you turn back to look at me that day, you'll understand my heart and realize that I am your best support.
Even if you find the right person, you may not win their heart. No matter how much time and energy you invest, you will only get futile results.
The next day, the whole country learned of the Crown Prince's death, and everyone observed a moment of silence. Civil and military officials all wore mourning clothes of different ranks, and court affairs were suspended.
On the third day, the emperor built a mausoleum for the crown prince and posthumously honored him with the title of Zhaode.
On the tenth day, an order was issued to temporarily raise the two imperial grandsons under his care.
On the forty-ninth day, the Crown Prince and Crown Princess were buried together in the Crown Prince's Mausoleum.
On the fifty-second day, she walked alone into the bamboo forest and saw a mound of earth. It was a tall, semi-circular mound, and in front of it stood a stone tablet.
She walked to her mother's tombstone, looked at the words on it, and burst into tears.
She knelt down, her forehead pressed against the cold tombstone, her fingertips tracing its surface. "Mother, your little spring... is gone, all gone..."
In the tranquil bamboo forest, there was only her and a grave. A gentle breeze blew, and bamboo leaves drifted down into the air.
“Brother Mohe is gone, Shuan is gone, and you are not here either…” A tear fell on the tombstone.
Having lost her closest friends and loved ones, she was like a walking corpse, devoid of her own soul.
She looked at the name on the tombstone, "Mother, Little Spring longs to go home." Home is where you are, a warm home.
Zhi: Mom, Little Spring misses you so much. (A suicide note from the real world)
Zhi: "Little Spring hates this place, hates everything about it."
Zhi: Little Spring hates this place, hates them.
Zhi: "Little Spring really wants to go to your place and see the prosperous world."
Zhi: Little Spring, I really want to be with you and take a good look at you.
Zhi: "Mother, can't you come and see me? Even just visit me in a dream."
Zhi: Mom, can't you come see me? Even just via video.
Zhi: "I miss you so much."
Zhi: I hate you.
Zhi: "If there is an afterlife, I would still like to be your daughter."
Zhi: If there is an afterlife, I don't want to be your daughter anymore.
The two look almost identical, but express different emotions; one is Pang Zhichun from the real world, and the other is Pang Zhichun from the world of the book.
Pang Zhi and Zhi Chun from two different worlds seem to sense each other's presence and communicate with their mother together. However, one speaks to the tombstone, while the other communicates with her mother through a will.
The emotions expressed are different, such as longing, resentment, etc.
One lost his mother, the other lost her daughter.
The bamboo forest fell silent once more. Pang Linqiu had left and returned to the oppressive mansion.
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