Chapter 103 Observing the End of the Game in Stillness, He Turns Away and Returns Home
The plum blossoms in Qixia Garden bloomed and faded, through several springs and autumns. Wang Yi sat by the waterside pavilion, watching the withered lotus leaves and newly sprouted buds intertwine in the pond. His fingertips unconsciously traced the scroll of agricultural books spread out on the stone table, but his gaze drifted into the distance.
The power struggles in Chang'an seem to be unfolding in a way that she once pushed forward, yet is gradually becoming unfamiliar with. After experiencing the pain and baptism of losing a son, fratricide, and bloody power struggles with aristocratic families, Crown Prince Li Chengqian has matured and become ruthless at an astonishing pace, increasingly resembling... a standard heir apparent, or even an emperor, of a feudal empire.
He used powerful families to both attack and weaken them, employing a strategy of division and appeasement, maintaining a balance of power, and his methods became increasingly sophisticated. Emperor Li Shimin's health seemed to be declining (perhaps due to the lingering grief over Empress Zhangsun's death), and he intervened less and less in politics, focusing instead on guiding the direction at crucial moments or restraining the Crown Prince when he acted too aggressively. Li Chengqian's power grew daily, and the Eastern Palace had become a de facto miniature court.
The young crown prince who once lost his temper over rumors and nearly went mad after losing his beloved son has now become enigmatic and unpredictable. He dotes on his healthy eldest son, Li Hong, while deliberately showing favoritism to the frail princes from powerful families, calmly manipulating the delicate balance between the harem and the court. His gaze towards her is still complex, but now carries a hint of scrutiny and distance befitting a ruler, lacking the undisguised intensity and confusion of his earlier years.
Wu Zetian, however, stood firm amidst these turbulent waves, and even seemed poised for further advancement. She raised the promising Li Hong, managed the Eastern Palace's inner gardens flawlessly, and her "alliance" with the Crown Prince appeared even more solid. Wang Yi occasionally gleaned from snippets of conversation from palace servants or other sources that Wu Zetian's skill and decisiveness in handling certain palace affairs and dealing with other concubines already possessed a considerable... nascent form of the future empress she had once glimpsed in the gaps of historical records.
Li Shimin… this once ambitious emperor, with whom she shared a complex and tacit understanding, now resembles a weary lion perched on the dragon throne. He still maintains control, but the sharpness in his eyes seems to have been worn away by time and the pain of losing his wife. In his gaze towards her, besides the usual complexities and an indescribable dependence (dependence on the “rational” and “technical” support she provides), there seems to be something else—a desolation born of worldly wisdom, and… perhaps a certain understanding and resignation regarding her ultimate fate as an “anomaly”?
Everything seemed to be developing in a certain "correct" direction. The crown prince was growing up and seizing power; powerful families were being weakened and fragmented; a new structure was emerging in the harem; and the emperor was gradually relinquishing control. The wheels of history, as if following their predetermined trajectory, were crushing the destinies of countless people and thundering forward.
And Wang Yi, this unexpected intruder and participant, seems to have already completed most of her "tasks" in this time and space? Improving agriculture and sericulture, promoting medical skills, establishing an epidemic prevention system, indirectly influencing the direction of the succession struggle, and even... to some extent changing the fate of some people (for example, Li Chengqian's methods of dealing with aristocratic families may have been earlier and more radical than in the original history?).
But then what?
To stay here as an increasingly marginalized "technical advisor"? A "safe listener" that the emperor and crown prince only think of when they need rational advice or emotional respite? Or even a "lost gem of the previous dynasty" who may always exist on the edge of danger because he knows too many secrets and has had special "rumors" with the crown prince?
She felt weary. Not weary of the specific tasks, but weary of the power game itself, of the deep-rooted class divide of the era, and of the distortion and alienation of humanity in the face of power. She felt a profound, almost nihilistic weariness.
She thought of her child in modern society—her own flesh and blood, whom she had been forced to remain in another time and space. She had come here initially for the mission of survival and bearing children; now, the mission seemed nearing its end, and survival was no longer an issue. So, it was time to go back.
Go back to that era, which, despite its many shortcomings, at least offered transparency, a relatively sound legal system, greater personal space, and, most importantly, the presence of her blood relatives. Go back to be with her as she grows up, to make up for the lost time.
Once the thought arose, it quickly entwined her heart like a vine.
She began her final preparations more discreetly. She handed over projects that were still in progress but not yet finished (such as the compilation of agricultural books and the organization of basic medical textbooks), and quietly sealed away or entrusted key technical data and potentially useful "seeds" to a very few absolutely reliable and like-minded subordinates (such as the young physician in the Imperial Medical Bureau who was obsessed with surgery, and the craftsman in the Directorate of Works who was devoted to mechanical improvement). She no longer actively interfered in court affairs, and even her routine visits to the palace for reports gradually decreased under various pretexts.
Li Shimin seemed to sense her aloofness. During a rare audience, looking into her calm, unwavering eyes, he suddenly asked, "You seem to have lost a lot of weight lately. Are you not used to living in Qixia Garden? Or... is something on your mind?"
Wang Yi bowed respectfully: "Your Majesty is too kind to worry. I have only been organizing old books recently, which has taken a toll on my mind and energy, but it is nothing serious. Qixia Garden is quiet and pleasant, and I am quite comfortable living here."
Li Shimin gave her a deep look, but did not press her for details. He simply said, "If you feel bored or want to go out for a walk, you can tell me. The vast land of the Tang Dynasty is at your disposal. If you are interested, I can make arrangements."
There was a hint of probing in those words, and perhaps a touch of pleading.
Wang Yi's heart stirred slightly, but his mind was made up. "Thank you for your great kindness, Your Majesty. I... have no intention of traveling far for the time being."
After that meeting, Li Shimin never summoned her alone again. The affairs of the court and the movements of the Eastern Palace seemed to be completely isolated from Qixia Garden. Only the occasional novel fruits, precious medicinal herbs, or overseas tributes bestowed by the emperor would arrive on time, reminding people that a special "Guardian of the Nation" had once lived here.
After giving birth to Li Hong, Wu Zetian visited Qixia Garden once, ostensibly to "ask for advice on raising children." The two sat facing each other, exchanging some trivial pleasantries. Wu Zetian's gaze frequently swept over Wang Yi's composed face, her eyes revealing a complex mix of emotions: gratitude (reminded of Li Xiang's situation), wariness (due to the Crown Prince's special attitude towards her), and perhaps even a barely perceptible hint of...inquiry and comparison. Wang Yi, however, treated her with only polite courtesy, neither overt nor covert.
Li Chengqian... After Li Hong's birth, he never set foot in Qixia Garden again. It was as if the rumors, the secret letter, and all the complex emotions and calculations were completely sealed or buried with the arrival of the new life and the consolidation of power.
That's for the best, Wang Yi thought. Only by having no attachments can one leave decisively.
On a chilly spring morning, as the first rays of light illuminated the eaves of Qixia Garden, Wang Yi changed into the most ordinary clothes, simply tied up his long hair, and carried no valuables from this era except for a miniature communicator disguised as an ordinary jade pendant for emergency contact.
Wang Yi took a soft breath. In the instant before her consciousness was completely pulled out of this time and space, she seemed to hear the long, drawn-out tolling of the palace morning bell from a distant place, as well as... a faint, clamor belonging to this era.
Goodbye, Tang Dynasty.
Goodbye, Li Shimin, Li Chengqian, Wu Meiniang... Goodbye to this bizarre journey interwoven with power struggles, bloodshed, tenderness, and helplessness.
Perhaps, at some point in the future, when she is in her modern study, flipping through yellowed history books and seeing phrases like "the Reign of Zhenguan" and "the Wu Zhou Revolution," she will recall this long-forgotten memory belonging to another "Wang Yi." But it will only be a memory.
Her story has come to an end in this time and space. But the torrent of history continues to surge forward, carrying the ambitions, loves, hatreds, and hopes of countless people toward the unknown distance.
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