040
In the winter of the second year of the Zhaochen reign, at the very moment the first snow fell, Empress Si Mianmian of the Yan Dynasty gave birth to a prince in the Jiaofang Palace. The instant the prince's cries echoed through the palace, the snow that had been accumulating outside the windows all day suddenly transformed into a flurry of delicate snowflakes, falling gently and abundantly. The palace servants all declared this an auspicious omen, foretelling that the eldest prince would enjoy great fortune, and bringing a glimmer of hope for true unity and rebirth to this empire, bound by marriage and rife with undercurrents.
Xuan Jing bestowed upon him the name "Xuan Chen," meaning "the abode of the Emperor, where the North Star resides," and issued an edict granting amnesty to the entire realm and bestowing favors upon the three armies. This act undoubtedly proclaimed to the world that this prince, who carried the blood of both the Yu and Yan kingdoms, held an unparalleled and exalted position.
Survival Handbook Chapter 40 (Final Chapter): The end of the road to the inner palace is not conquest, but reconciliation. Reconcile with fate, reconcile with enemies, and ultimately, reconcile with the self that once proceeded cautiously, afraid to make a single misstep.
The Empress's quarters were filled with a warm, fragrant aroma. Si Mianmian leaned against soft pillows, her face somewhat pale, but her brows held a gentle, serene expression befitting a mother. After court, Xuan Jing would often dismiss his attendants and sit alone by the bed, silently watching the infant sleeping peacefully in her arms. His usually stern features would soften considerably at that moment. He would gently touch the child's tender cheek with his fingertips, a tender gesture completely different from his decisive and ruthless imperial persona in court.
"When I was a child, I never received such a gaze from my father." One day, he suddenly spoke, his voice low, as if speaking to Si Mianmian, yet also as if talking to himself. Si Mianmian's heart stirred slightly; this was the first time Xuan Jing had proactively mentioned his childhood as a hostage, the lack of paternal love. She didn't reply, but simply placed her hand gently on the back of his hand, which was resting by the bedside. Xuan Jing's hand stiffened slightly, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he turned his palm over, tightly enveloping her hand in his own. The warm yet strong touch silently conveyed a comfort and trust that transcended words.
Survival Handbook Postscript: The continuation of bloodlines is the most powerful bond to break down barriers. It can melt away the ice, fade suspicion, and allow two independent souls to truly feel the weight of the word "we".
With the birth of the prince, Si Mianmian's position in the Yan Dynasty's harem was completely secured. She was no longer merely a "princess of the Yu Dynasty," but the birth mother of the Yan Dynasty's eldest prince. Those who once harbored contempt or hostility because of her status now only held reverence. As Empress, she assisted Xuan Jing in managing the six palaces, her methods becoming increasingly sophisticated. Towards the Empress Dowager, she always fulfilled her filial duties, paying her respects morning and evening, showing even more care than her own daughter, subtly dissolving the last trace of resentment the Empress Dowager held due to her birth. Towards the concubines, she used a combination of kindness and strictness, being fair and impartial, neither deliberately suppressing nor indulging them, managing the harem with great order and relieving Xuan Jing of his greatest worry outside the court.
She even used her familiarity with the laws and regulations of the Yu Dynasty to offer Xuan Jing several suggestions on promoting trade and cultural exchanges between the two countries, all of which were adopted. The "connections" she once had to painstakingly cultivate have now transformed into tangible influence. She has finally transformed from a pawn with no control over her own destiny into a player who can stand shoulder to shoulder with Xuan Jing and jointly govern this vast land.
Following the prince's full-month celebration, a procession from the Yu Dynasty arrived in Yandu. Besides the usual lavish gifts, they brought unexpected news: Emperor Si Yuanhong of Yu had decreed that Consort Wen be promoted to the rank of Noble Consort Wen, and to reside in the Cining Palace to live out her remaining years. The chief envoy accompanying the procession was none other than Crown Prince Rong Jingyu.
Xuan Jing received him in the Imperial Study. After many years, Rong Jingyu's former carefree and unrestrained demeanor had matured considerably, replaced by a more composed air. However, when he looked at Xuan Jing, his peach blossom eyes still carried a hint of sharpness and complexity that was difficult to detect.
"This foreign subject, acting on the orders of His Majesty the Emperor, has come to congratulate His Majesty the Emperor and His Majesty the Empress on the birth of their son, and to present this letter of state, wishing to forge an eternal alliance with the Emperor and jointly resist foreign aggression." Rong Jingyu's etiquette was impeccable.
Xuanjing looked down at him with deep eyes: "Your Highness has had a long journey, and we, the Empress and I, have already appreciated your good intentions. Go back and tell Emperor Yu that since Yan and Yu are related by marriage, they should naturally be of one mind and one heart."
After finishing his official business, Rong Jingyu suddenly said, "Before I left, the Noble Consort specifically instructed me to personally deliver a few of the Empress's childhood toys to her, so as to comfort her homesickness." When he mentioned "Noble Consort," his tone became momentarily somber.
Xuanjing remained silent for a moment before finally granting his request: "The Empress is admiring the plum blossoms in the Imperial Garden. The Crown Prince may go there on his own."
Red plum blossoms reflected in the snow in the Imperial Garden, their subtle fragrance wafting in the air. Si Mianmian, draped in a crimson feather cloak, stood beneath a plum tree, cradling Xuan Chen, who was wrapped in a mink coat. Upon seeing Rong Jingyu approach, she dismissed her attendants.
An old friend arrived amidst the wind and snow, and we stood facing each other in silence. Several years had passed, the landscape had changed dramatically, and they were no longer the same people they once were.
Finally, Rong Jingyu spoke first, her voice a little hoarse: "Are you... alright?"
Si Mianmian smiled slightly, her beauty unparalleled: "As Your Highness sees, all is well." She lowered her head and teased the child in her arms, "Chen'er, this is Uncle Rong."
The single word "Uncle Rong" immediately revealed the closeness of their relationship, clearly defining the boundaries between them. The last glimmer of light in Rong Jingyu's eyes vanished, replaced by utter relief. He stepped forward and placed a small brocade box on the stone table: "This is... something Aunt Wen asked me to give to you. She said she wishes you peace, joy, and a smooth life."
Si Mianmian opened the brocade box, inside were a pair of exquisite mutton-fat jade peace locks, one large and one small, clearly for the mother and son. There was also a piece of dried daylily flower—she had secretly picked it from her mother's courtyard when she left the Yu Palace.
Tears instantly blurred Si Mianmian's vision. She knew that this was not only her mother's longing, but also the Yu Dynasty royal family's final recognition and entrustment of her current status.
"Please thank Mother for me." Si Mianmian took a deep breath to compose herself. "And thank you, Brother Jingyu, for coming all this way."
Rong Jingyu looked at her, the woman he had once genuinely loved and also schemed against, who was now the empress, having found her way home. He suddenly felt that the weight that had been pressing on his heart for so many years had finally been lifted. He smiled, as languid as ever, yet with a newfound clarity: "You little ingrate, you're really starting to act like an empress now. Alright, the things have been delivered, the message has been conveyed, I should go back and report."
He turned and waved casually, his figure disappearing into the depths of the plum grove, just like the dashing and unrestrained young master of yesteryear. This time, it was a true farewell, and also a new beginning for each of them.
A further note in the survival manual: True letting go means that even when we meet again, nothing happens, and we often think of each other after we part. Only by making peace with the past can we move forward lightly.
That night, the snow fell even heavier. Xuan Chen was already asleep in his wet nurse's arms. Xuan Jing finished his official duties and returned to Jiaofang Palace, where he saw Si Mianmian standing by the window, gazing absently at the swirling snow outside. He walked over, gently embraced her from behind, and rested his chin on her hair.
"Did Rong Jingyu see you today?" he asked in a low voice, his tone calm and unreadable.
"Mmm." Si Mianmian leaned against him in a relaxed manner. "I gave him some old things that my mother gave me and we talked for a while."
"He does know what's good for him," Xuan Jing commented casually.
Si Mianmian turned to face him, her eyes clear as ever in the candlelight: "What is Your Majesty worried about?"
Xuan Jing gazed at her for a long time before saying, "Mianmian, do you still remember why I insisted on having you in the first place?"
Si Mianmian's heart skipped a beat. This was the first and deepest thorn between them. Because she was a princess of the Yu Dynasty, because her status could consolidate his imperial power, because... perhaps there was still a trace of the obsession she hadn't been able to voice when she was a hostage.
She didn't answer, she just looked at him quietly.
Xuan Jing raised his hand and stroked her cheek, his fingertips warm: "At first, perhaps there were those calculations. But later... especially after you gave birth to Chen'er, I realized..." He paused, his voice low and solemn, "What I've always wanted is just you, Si Mianmian. Not the princess of Yu Dynasty, just you as a person. To stand shoulder to shoulder with you, to share this vast land, to watch Chen'er grow up, and to grow old together."
This was the closest Xuan Jing could come to a vow of love. Without flowery words, it was more moving than any promise. Si Mianmian's tears fell without warning. She had waited so long for these words, through conspiracies and scheming, through countless heart-wrenching moments, and finally, at this moment, she heard him admit it himself: she, Si Mianmian, was not anyone's substitute or tool, but simply the wife Xuan Jing desired.
She threw herself into his arms, holding him tightly, her tears soaking his dragon robe: "Your Majesty... feels the same way. Xuanjing, just Xuanjing."
Outside the window, snow swirled, but inside the hall, spring was in full bloom. A thousand schemes and countless plans ultimately couldn't withstand the outpouring of genuine emotion in this moment. Where the heart finds its home, there lies true peace.
Spring goes and autumn comes, time flies.
Several years later, on a sunny afternoon, Xuan Chen, who could now run freely throughout the courtyard, chased after a colorful butterfly, his laughter as clear as bells. Si Mianmian and Xuan Jing sat side by side in the pavilion, watching their son play. A letter from Consort Wen, sent from the Yu Palace, lay on the stone table, recounting everyday trivialities, its words filled with tranquility.
Xuan Jing put down the memorial in his hand and rubbed his temples. Si Mianmian handed him a cup of warm ginseng tea and said softly, "Although the affairs of state are important, Your Majesty should also take care of your health."
Xuan Jing took the teacup, then gently grasped her hand, his gaze tender: "With you by my side, I don't feel tired."
Si Mianmian smiled. She recalled the survival manual she had written for herself many years ago in the treacherous depths of the Yu Palace. Looking back now, those rules were still valid, but she no longer needed to consciously follow them. Because the greatest wisdom for survival was not about conquering many enemies or winning much favor, but about finally finding inner peace and belonging in this complex world.
She looked at Xuan Jing beside her; he was looking at her too. Their eyes met, revealing an unspoken understanding and deep affection. Then she looked at her carefree son in the courtyard, her heart filled with a profound sense of happiness.
Mountains and rivers may serve as a betrothal gift, and the world as a playground, but in the end, nothing can compare to the simple joy of mutual understanding and companionship amidst the everyday hustle and bustle of life.
Her story begins with calculation, becomes entangled in a game of strategy, and ultimately returns to the ordinary.
And this is the best ending.
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