Chapter 172 – Rebirth of Prince Ding (III) – THE END

 

Later, Li Hao’er brought him her favorite sesame cakes. If he didn’t eat them, she would threaten to pinch his face. Pei Xiao’er had tears of grievance in his eyes; after finishing, he still had to say they were delicious, thanking the hardworking little princess and ensuring that she would bring them again next time.

Slowly, Li Hao’er began to tell him about the joys and troubles in her life. She told him that her Brother Mao used to ignore her, which made her very distressed, and he was often taken away by his aunt, Xiao Liu shi, for various reasons. But one day, Xiao Liu shi disappeared and never showed up again.

She seemed to have lost her mind. For some unknown reason, she began harboring jealous hatred toward one of the emperor’s favored concubines. She sent people to spread rumors that the favorite concubine had an affair with a powerful official, and the gossip even spread to the emperor’s ears. That official was extremely angry, and after pacifying the emperor, traced the slander back to her. The Liu family was thrown into panic and interrogated her privately. She cried injustice, admitting she had indeed fabricated a rumor—but it was about Princess Consort Ding and a court painter. She claimed she had no knowledge of anything between the favored concubine and the official. She insisted she was being framed. But no matter how she pleaded, it was already too late. To avoid disaster, the Liu family sent her far away, locking her up in an ancestral temple outside the city. One night, a band of robbers broke into the temple. Xiao Liu shi was assaulted and abducted. After that, she disappeared completely—vanished without a trace.

After Xiao Liu shi disappeared, her father often took Brother Mao out with him. Brother Mao’s attitude toward her gradually softened, and her mother’s face began to show more frequent smiles.

There were happy things, and naturally there were also troubles.

She also told Pei Xiao’er that she had a very kind sister named Wei, who was about to be engaged to her Brother Yan and marry into the Crown Prince’s mansion. However, for some reason, at the critical moment, Sister Wei’s father offended the Crown Prince, causing the engagement to be delayed, and it seemed there was no hope now. Sister Wei was very sad and had been staying at home recently. Yesterday, she went to visit Sister Wei and found that her eyes were red and swollen, looking like she had just been crying.

Speaking of this matter, Li Hao’er’ eyes turned red and she looked like she was about to cry. It happened that his mother came over to bring food for the little princess. Hearing her footsteps approaching, Pei Xiao’er was so scared that he quickly took her hand, puffed his lips and let her to pinch his face, for fear that her mother would see her crying face and think he was bullying her again. Li Hao’er was amused by him and started to giggle again.

Two little children, each with their own joys and sorrows, grew up day by day amid their squabbles, laughter, and tears—while beneath the surface, undercurrents were stirring in the court and across the empire.

In the spring of the following year, a major upheaval erupted.

A rebellion broke out in the provinces. When the news reached Chang’an, the entire court was shaken—from the emperor down to the officials. Only then did they awaken from their lives of indulgence and delusion. Yet even at that moment, the emperor clung to the fantasy that the surrounding garrisons would hold off the rebels for him. Little did he know that, following his example, the regional commanders too had long since fallen into decadence. They were no longer the elite soldiers and generals who used to protect the Son of Heaven. Meanwhile, the rebel forces were strong, well-prepared, and disciplined. How could such defenders hope to stand against them?

Just as the rebels were advancing westwards with unstoppable force and the emperor was in a state of panic, Pei Gu, who had set out of the capital earlier, led his long-serving Shenhu Army to arrive in time for rescue. Shenhu Army was like a god descending from the sky, intercepting all the marching routes planned by the rebels and laying ambushes to encircle them. After precise strikes, within just three months, they swiftly quelled the rebellion and stabilized the situation.

Although the rebellion was fierce at first, it was suppressed within the four borders of the rebel area due to the arrival of the Shenhu Army, and did not spread out, thus minimizing the impact on the country. After the rebellion ended, the Shenhu Army continued to clear out the remaining rebels in the provinces, and the imperial court in Chang’an began to restore order.

However, this was just an appearance. The court was still turbulent, even worse than before.

Crown Prince Jingsheng had been wary of Prince Ding since long ago, knowing well that he was far from the aloof and uninvolved figure he appeared to be. When discovering Prince Ding’s secret dealings with the Pei family—and seeing that Pei Gu, thanks to his role in suppressing the recent rebellion, had won great favor among the troops and was enjoying immense influence—the Crown Prince grew even more fearful. He worried that Pei Gu might pledge allegiance to Prince Ding. Moreover, as the emperor’s suspicions toward him grew by the day, the Crown Prince feared he would share the same fate as several of his brothers before him, never surviving to see the throne. After consulting with his most trusted advisers, he decided to take advantage of the ongoing unrest and launch a palace coup to seize power ahead of time. According to the plan, Pei Gu’s wife, Pei Ji, and others close to them were to be taken hostage. The Crown Prince would then send word to Pei Gu, demanding he return to the capital with his army to support the coup. However, the forces sent to capture Lady Cui and her children found nothing—she had already evaded the trap. At the same time, the Crown Prince’s plan was betrayed and leaked to the emperor. The emperor was greatly enraged. When the Crown Prince and the Imperial Grandson tried to escape with their confidants and personal soldiers, they were all intercepted and killed. Along with them, many of the Crown Prince’s old allies were purged. Only the Wei family managed to escape unscathed.

The emperor was already fallen ill due to the previous fright, and now, unable to manage himself due to anger and frustration, he had no choice but to abdicate and pass the throne to Prince Ding.

Prince Ding ascended the throne without resistance. The very first act of his reign was to purge the corrupt ministers and sycophants once favored by the previous emperor, under the pretext of eliminating the remnants of the deposed Crown Prince’s faction. With swift and decisive action, he restructured the government and restored order to the court. Under his firm and unyielding rule, the government underwent a complete transformation, marking the beginning of a new and stable era.

Of course, this did not mean the empire could now rest easy. Various internal problems still existed, which were difficult to resolve, and powerful enemies still lingered at the borders. It was clear that the new emperor bore a heavy burden. Yet even in the midst of such intense state affairs, he found time to attend to a personal matter: formally appointing Pei Xiao’er as the future prince consort for the princess, thus establishing their childhood betrothal.

At this time, Consort Princess Yin had become the empress. One night, beneath the stars, the emperor pledged his eternal love to her while gazing at the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl, vowing that she alone would be his empress for life and that no other women would be taken into his harem. Their daughter, Li Hao’er, was granted the title of first-rank Princess. Pei Ji, still unwilling to return to court, was allowed to remain in reclusion. The emperor did not press him, instead bestowing him the title of Grand Tutor in recognition of his previous achievements. Pei Gu, on the other hand, was given the title Shang Zhuguo Grand General and Duke of Jin, taking on the critical responsibility of defending the empire’s borders.

The childhood betrothal was arranged on the eve of Pei Gu’s departure from the capital. The emperor and empress hosted a private farewell banquet in the palace and invited the couple to attend. It was then that they proposed the match. Since both the princess and Pei Xiao’er were still young, one was seven years old and the other was five years old, so it was only a verbal agreement, with no formal rites. Once the princess came of age, a formal engagement and wedding would follow.

Pei Gu and Lady Cui were shocked that the emperor had chosen their own son to be the princess’s consort so early on. Yet all they could do was kneel and express their deep gratitude for such imperial favor. Soon after, Pei Gu left the capital to assume his post, taking his nephew with him. As their own son was still too young, Lady Cui remained in Chang’an with the child.

Though the matter was never formally announced, word soon spread like wildfire. All of Chang’an came to know. From that point on, the seven-year-old Pei Xiao’er gained a new nickname: “Little Prince Consort.” For the next two or three years, he grew up under that title. As he gradually became aware of the world, he began to loathe it. How could his life’s ambition ever be to exist as a mere appendage to a woman—to be known only as the Princess’s consort? He felt deeply ashamed. Li Hao’er, however, remained blissfully unaware of all this. She often called him “Little Prince Consort” herself—just to watch him flush red with embarrassment. She would then burst out laughing, clutching her belly and giggling breathlessly. Each time this happened, Pei Xiao’er’ sense of frustration and indignation doubled. And how did he ease that sorrow? By burying himself even more in his books, throwing himself into his martial training, honing his riding and archery skills—hoping, with all his heart, that one day he might earn his own place in the world and escape the bitter sea that was Chang’an.

Thus, he waited silently year after year, and finally, one particular year, the previous Pei Xiao’er grew up to be the fourteen-year-old Pei Xiaoyuan.

His figure became tall and slender, more than a head taller than Li Hao’er. His features became firm and define, his body lean and strong, and he could now draw a full iron bow with ease. His Adam’s apple also became more prominent—his voice low and steady, now tinged with the roughness of youth in the midst of change.

Unknowingly, he had become a striking, martial young man—no longer someone whose cheeks she could pinch at will.

During these thousands of days and nights of peaceful time, she too had grown alongside him—nurtured in affection and devotion. Her chest had begun to swell, like buds shyly blooming. She had become accomplished in poetry, books, zither, and chess—and especially skilled in painting, having taken Ding Baiya as her master. She still smiled just as freely as before, but the times she came looking for Pei Xiaoyuan had gradually lessened. Especially in the past year—when she did visit, it was mostly to see Lady Cui, sitting with her in cheerful conversation. She no longer did the things she used to: casually rolling up her sleeves to reveal her fair arms before him, or baring her legs without warning, forcing him to look.

In the autumn of that year, a war that the empire had long prepared for inevitably broke out.

The Xifan launched a large-scale invasion of the border, and the court immediately responded to the threat. The fourteen-year-old boy, full of passionate fervor, persuaded his mother, who looked on with a mix of reluctance and pride, as he set out to join the army.

After waiting for so many years, today he finally got the chance to go on an expedition, fight the enemy, and make merit. How could he not be excited? The military situation was urgent, and after hasty preparations, he would immediately follow an army from Chang’an and rush to the distant border tomorrow morning.

On the night before his departure, Lady Cui packed her son’s bag and repeatedly asked if there was anything else he needed to do before leaving tomorrow.

Of course he understood what his mother meant. But in that moment, how could the eyes of a young man see anything beyond dreams of making achievement? His heart—already stirred by the call of the road—had long since sprouted wings and flown far from the cage of Chang’an.

On one side was the boy’s most romantic dream, on the other side, the countless time she pinched his face, and that title he had never liked: “Little Prince Consort”.

As his mother let out a soft sigh, he shook his head without the slightest hesitation.

The young man’s excitement about going to the battle continued until the next day. He rode out of Kaiyuan Gate and arrived at the Wei River Bridge.

Crossing this bridge means leaving Chang’an, completely bidding farewell to the past and embarking on a new stage of his life.

Just as he was about to spur his horse forward and follow his comrades onto the bridge, watching their figures ride ahead and vanish one by one down the slope, a sudden hesitation rose in his heart. He thought of his mother’s reminder last night, her hesitant eyes, and her last few helpless sighs. The fervor that had swelled in him for days, like feet climbing steadily toward the peak of a mountain, now began to falter—slipping, slowly, down the slope.

After staring blankly for a moment, he subconsciously raised his hand and touched his own cheek.

How many times had Li Hao’er pinched his face since he was six years old? Hundreds? thousands? He didn’t know, he had never tried to count. But now, in this moment of memory, it was as if the soft imprint of her tiny hand still lingered faintly on his skin.

Would leaving without saying goodbye make her sad and cause her to cry?

In the past two years, they have grown older and have seen less of each other. Even when they did meet, she rarely said much—and never again had she tried to pinch his face, as she had so often when they were children. Yet in his memory, she had always been that spoiled little girl who cried easily. The thought that she might cry because of his action, suddenly made his chest tighten with a dull ache.

In that hesitation, he turned his head and looked back at the city silhouette he had already left far behind. When his sight passed a pavilion by the riverbank, he paused.

A red horse stood beside the small pavilion, and on its back sat a young girl dressed in a boy’s riding clothes.

It was unknown since when Zhao Zhongfang and Li Hao’er had come here. Her face was slightly turned, as if watching the flowing waters of the Wei River.

Her outfit today was especially striking. She had a light cloud-patterned scarf wrapped around her head, wearing spring clothes with a slender waist and a golden belt. In one of her delicate white hands, she clutches a tender willow branch that she picked from who knows where. It hung docilely at her side, brushing against the small booted foot perched on the saddle, swaying gently in the river breeze.

The young man saw a pair of bright eyes slowly turning from the surface of the river, as if gazing at him, and his heart couldn’t help but beat lightly.

She came for him.

“Pei Erlang, aren’t you coming?” A group of comrades eager to charge across the Wei Bridge on horseback, noticed he had stopped in place. One of them called back to him. Following the direction of his gaze, they all fell silent—
every one of them stealing glances.

Ignoring the stares of those around him, he quickly dismounted and strode toward her.

She remained seated, poised atop the red horse, her dark, glossy eyes fixed on the armor-clad, handsome youth walking steadily toward her. Her chin lifted slightly, her expression proud and cool. However, when the young man stopped in front of her horse and looked up at her, her expression shifted. She waved the green tender willow branch in her hand towards him.

It seemed like a tease, but also like a punishment. With a whoosh, the willow branches came down and strike his face.

“So heartless!” After she strike him, she complained with a smile. Her delicate features were as bright as the spring light and clouds at this moment.

“You just left like that?” she questioned.

The flexible willow branch in her hand carried the fresh, grassy scent of spring. Like the flick of a whip, it struck across his neck and face. A few sharp-edged leaves sliced fine lines into his skin—thin scratches along his cheek and jaw, where blood began to bead faintly. The broken leaves brushed against the sting of those tiny wounds, falling in a rustle that stirred a fresh, ticklish itch.

At once, goosebumps bloomed across young Pei Xiaoyuan’s skin, and a slight shiver ran through him.

The next moment, as she pulled the willow branch, a strong wind blew in from the fields, blowing away the scarf she used to tie her hair. The scarf tumbled into the center of the river, half-sinking, half-floating, drifting downstream with the current. Her dark, shining hair came loose, cascading over her shoulders in glossy, wind-blown strands.

For a moment, the young princess’s face was caught between two worlds—still half-childish, innocent and mischievous, but already touched by the softness and grace of girlhood just beginning to blossom.

The young man could not help but stare in amazement.

Li Hao’er quickly turned her face away. The skin around her eyes were red. Then she hastily wiped the corners of her eyes. After a moment, when she turned back to face him again, her expression had become relax again.

The gentle spring breeze caresses her waist, and she laughs with her long eyebrows elegantly arched, pouting her little lips.

“Brother Pei, I was just joking with you. I bid you farewell with a branch of willow. You can confidently go and achieve great things; you don’t have to worry about me pestering you!

“It’s all my father’s fault, making you worry for so many years for nothing!

“I’m going now! Take care of yourself!”

After Li Hao’er finished speaking, she did not linger for even a moment longer. Her gaze dropped, and with a light command of “Hyah,” she nudged her heels gently against her horse’s flank. Instantly, the horse leapt forward, and she galloped past young Pei Xiaoyuan like a gust of wind, charging up the road toward Chang’an.

The young man turned to look after her, dazed, eyes fixed on her receding figure. Just then, the eunuch Zhao Zhongfang rode past with a face full of worry, sighing mournfully as he went.

“Young Master Pei, our princess didn’t sleep a wink last night, she was waiting for you!

“Alas! Alas!”

He sighed twice again, shook his head, and hurriedly chased after her.

The young man watched Li Hao’er’ long-haired figure disappear, then turned his head. As his gazed at the Wei River, his expression suddenly shifted. He quickly kicked off his boots, swiftly removed his armor and the sword at his waist, and with a leap, he jumped into the surging spring tide of the river. In the undulating green waves, he struggled to chase the rising tide ahead, and finally, he caught up with the half-floating, half-sinking scarf on the water’s surface. He stretched out his arm to grab the thing back, swam ashore, lay down on a damp patch of grass on the bank, closed his eyes, and breathed heavily for a long time.

The evening snow stretched for thousands of miles outside the Great Wall, the old frost at the border cracks the bones of the horses.

Later, the young man followed his father and elder brother through battlefield after battlefield. After each bloody clash, he would drink again and again before the great tent, under the leaping bonfire, from a goblet filled with grape wine—tainted with the blood of the enemy. And also after each battle, those youthful, romantic dreams of glory gradually lost their luster. He came to understand a simple truth: behind the dazzling light of a hero, it is blood and death that are the eternal theme.

Later still, in some sleepless nights where his thoughts wandered in a daze, or in unspeakable dreams stirred by the restless wind in the camp’s corners, it was always her image that surfaced. She pinching his face, rolling up her sleeves or trouser legs to make him look, the willow branch in her hand lashing and stinging him. And… the scarf that had touched her hair intimately became his most hidden and cherished secret.

After the battle at the border, he never stopped riding his horse. Together with his brother, he led the soldiers to continue chasing the enemy fleeing westward, spreading imperial teachings among the kingdoms of the Western Regions along the way. He passed through the Jade Gate, through Shazhou and Kucha, journeying westward day and night without pause—until one day, the army reached a great lake, where snow began to fall in torrents and the horses were halted by its icy waters. Only then did he awaken to the passage of time: it had already been two to three years since he had ridden north out of Chang’an.

He was less than seventeen years old, but he had already become a young general with outstanding military achievements. That night, in a snowbound tent warmed by a blazing brazier, he drank to ward off the cold with Chengping, a Hu youth who had become his close friend. This Hu guy was of a wild and unrestrained nature, a libertine among flowers, utterly different from him in every way. Yet perhaps it was precisely this contrast that drew them together—perhaps he envied Chengping’s freedom, his indulgent ease—and so they had sworn brotherhood. Half-drunk, Chengping grinned and said he’d heard that in Chang’an, the princess had countless suitors. “If you don’t go back soon,” he teased, “I fear this legendary ‘future prince consort’ title of yours may not last much longer.”

Drunk, Chengping lay across his thigh, sleeping soundly. But he himself could not fall asleep.

He had, more than once, pondered over that betrothal made in childhood—a union born of nothing more than a single word from the emperor. She had long since come of age, yet the formal marriage decree, once promised, had never arrived. It was as if the surface of a tranquil lake had never stirred, not even a ripple to hint at movement. In the three years since, even his mother’s letters, usually filled with endless words of caution and concern, had never so much as mentioned it. And he, how could he take the initiative to ask?

He recalled what she had said to him on the day she broke willow branches to see him off.

Had she truly meant it was the end? That the title of Prince Consort was to be given to someone else?

Like that 14-year-old boy, his heart was beating violently again, but tonight, it was for a girl named Li Hao’er.

He wanted to find her and see her. This thought had quietly sprouted in his mind after the battle at the border ended, but he was always hesitant and wavering. Perhaps, he also had a little secret expectation.

But what had he been waiting for?

Nothing was ever come.

The thought suddenly expanded rapidly, bursting out from the bottom of his heart, and could no longer be contained.

The next day, he turned around on his horse and set out on the road back to Chang’an. He traveled day and night, riding non-stop, crossing many mountains and rivers. On this day, when he finally returned to the city that had felt like a prison to him for many years, what awaited him was the news that she was no longer in Chang’an.

Because of Ding Baiya, she had later met Ye Zhongli. The old immortal took an instant liking to her, especially delighted by her talent in painting. In a rare move, he took her on as a disciple as well. The emperor placed no restrictions on her, allowing her to follow Ye Zhongli out of Chang’an to travel the land and broaden her horizons, as she wished. The first place they went to was Hedong. Ye Zhongli went to visit his old friend Pei Ji. This happened a month ago.

Pei Xiaoyuan rushed to Hedong.

But once again, he came up empty.

The trace of her fragrance had already faded.

His uncle told him that Ye Zhongli loves to paint the vast border landscapes, and therefore she followed Ye Zhongli to Ganliang.

Pei Xiaoyuan turned his horse around again.

From late autumn to midwinter, and then from midwinter to spring.

After traveling across almost half of the empire’s territory, he returned to the starting point of his journey to find her.

Outside Weiyuan City, in a spring meadow, a graceful young girl wearing a pomegranate red skirt, resembling a fiery lotus blooming in the sunlight, walked slowly towards him.

Seventeen-year-old Pei Xiaoyuan met fifteen-year-old Li Hao’er.

He stared intently from a distance, almost entranced.

Amidst his confuse mind, a scene flashed by like lightning. That scene was so similar to the current situation, it felt familiar.

However, he didn’t know where or when it happened.

He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again. Leaping down from his horse, he strode toward her and stopped right in front of her. From his robes, he drew out a scarf—still seeming to carry a faint trace of her lingering fragrance—and, under her astonished gaze, slowly held it out to her.

“They say that on the Three-Life Stone, fate is etched for three lifetimes. The princess and her consort—surely they are just such a pair…”

…

In the Lingshan Mountain northwest of Chang’an, an aged palace eunuch, lost in memories, still stubbornly used the old title to call out to the little mistress he had adored in life. Hunched and trembling, he bent down to personally pluck the fresh mugwort that had sprung up again at the mausoleum after a recent rain, murmuring softly to himself. As he spoke, he began to smile.

He had kept watch here for more than ten years—never once leaving, not even for a step. Compared to ten years ago, the old palace eunuch now looked even more aged. His hair had thinned so much it could no longer hold a proper hairpin; the young eunuchs who served him had to tuck in a false bun just so the hairpin could stay in place. His back was so hunched it could no longer straighten, and the leg he had injured long ago while saving the little princess had curled and stiffened with age. Yet even so, he never allowed anyone else to do the work in his place. Whenever the weather was fair, he would always come here himself—to weed the fresh grass that grew before the tombs of the late emperor and empress, and to talk to his old masters. Just a few words. A few bits of news. For instance, just last year, Xuyu had safely delivered a baby girl. County Prince Yingyang, who had a daughter in his middle years, was overjoyed. In his joy, he even sent a jar of the one-month wine all the way here, to the old eunuch across the distant miles. The old eunuch, of course, had hurried to pass on the good news to the late emperor and empress without delay.

After pulling out a patch of weeds, exhausted, the old eunuch slowly sat down on a stone bench to rest. He wiped the sweat from his brow, looked up at the imperial tombs across from him—and then, shaking his head, gave himself a sharp slap on the cheek.

“Your Majesty, you see, this old servant grows more and more shameless with age. My thoughts wander, my dreams grow wild at night, and I had the audacity to come here before Your Majesty and the Empress, spinning tales and fabricating nonsense, even daring to offend you both. Truly, I deserve a thousand deaths for my crime!”

The mountain wind blew through the weeds. Deep within the mausoleum ground, there was a rustling sound of grass and trees swaying.

The old eunuch listened for a moment and laughed again.

“Your Majesty says… you and the Empress are not angry? Then this old servant shall be bold once again… and continue the tale!”

He thought for a moment, then continued: “In that world…”

The emperor weakened the power of the Liu family. Liu Ceye was unwilling to accept the situation and instigated Li Mao to rebel. But in the end, Li Mao chose his father. As a result, the Liu family was completely eradicated. Due to the crimes of his maternal family, Li Mao was also implicated and could not be qualified for the position of crown prince. He was later granted the title first-rank prince, left the capital to become a governor, and lived a peaceful life until his old age.

Wang Zhang was also gradually excluded from the central government, and later committed a crime and was sent to Annan to serve as an official. He died there of old age and never had the chance to return to Chang’an in his life.

Ding Baiya won the qualification for the imperial examination set up by the emperor due to a special grace and achieved the top score with his talent. He did not spend much time at the court; for most of his life, he served as a local governor. Wherever he went, he achieved remarkable results, becoming a renowned local official who was deeply loved by the people.

The emperor also abolished the cave craftsman system that had been in place since the previous dynasty, set the craftsmen free, and promoted a young man named Yuan Zhi to cultivate him. Yuan Zhi later became an able minister, married a daughter of the Wei family, and was grateful for the emperor’s kindness and loyal to the emperor all his life.

The emperor, true to his word, honored the vow he once made to Princess Consort Yin till the very end of his days. Their bond as emperor and empress was one of lifelong devotion—they grew old together in harmony, becoming a true model of marital virtue for all the realm.

“And Qingtou, Your Majesty, you liked him the most! How could we forget him! He never got the chance to meet Lord Pei Ji again, but his fate was good, ah. Your Majesty remembered him and had him brought all the way from Ganliang straight to the palace! That silly boy from the northern frontier—he thought you summoned him to Chang’an just to… to have him castrated. All the way here, he clutched his waistband tight, sobbing and howling, making a complete fool of himself… oh, what a spectacle he was.”

The setting sun was sinking in the west. Deep in the mugwort bushes, there was a stir from a gust of wind.

The old eunuch laughed: “Your Majesty, are you amused too? Yes, foolish people have foolish blessings! Oh? Your Majesty still wants to hear about what happened to that pair of children, huh?”

The dragon and phoenix dance together, the red candles burn brightly.

A room filled with golden ornaments and flickering candlelight shimmered and danced in dazzling harmony. Yet no matter how brilliant the splendor, in the very moment the young general lifted the embroidered veil from his young bride’s face—revealing her features little by little—all the light in the chamber seemed to dim, eclipsed by the radiance of that delicate face.

Li Hao’er secretly raised her eyes and looked at the crimson figure opposite her.

After removing the veil that had hidden her face, he sat quietly across from her, steady and composed, his gaze tender and unwavering.

She bit her lip and stared at the young man opposite her. Suddenly, she raised her wrist and gently pinched his cheek.

He froze, stunned. The cheek she had pinched flushed red in an instant, burning with heat.

“Are you mad at me?” she asked.

Now his face and ears were also getting hot. He shook his head.

“You used to get so mad about this—what’s with the sudden change of heart?” she pouted, those soft lips curling just slightly. It was the expression she always used—sometimes in mock disdain, sometimes in a spoiled sulk, sometimes just to tease. At this moment, it seemed like she was mocking him. And yet, she looked so unbearably adorable. Incredibly, unspeakably adorable.

He truly didn’t know how to answer. Under her playful pressing, he could only turn his face away awkwardly, silently begging her to let the matter drop and stop pestering him about this problem that he himself couldn’t figure out.

Li Hao’er couldn’t hold it in any longer and burst into laughter. Hearing it, something warm and fluttering surged in his chest—part joy, part embarrassment, tangled together in a feeling impossible to describe. Just as his heart was in disarray and his face still flushed, she suddenly leaned in and gave the cheek she had just pinched a quick kiss. This move was so unexpected and it caused her face to flush with embarrassment. Flushed and flustered, she yanked a quilt over her head, burying herself beneath it, face hidden against the pillow, unable to look at him. But not long after, muffled giggles began to rise from beneath the quilt.

Pei Xiaoyuan didn’t move at first, but suddenly, he abruptly lifted the quilt that she used to hide herself, and as she screamed, he opened his arms and hugged her.

Under the quilt so dark that you couldn’t see your fingers, the hot lips of two young people finally touched each other tremblingly.

After their lips touched, it was hard to separate.

They held their breath and kissed secretly under the quilt.

“It’s not grandpa who wants to go to Ganliang, it’s me who wants to go there to find you!”

After ending this sweet and nervous first kiss, the happy young bride whispered the secret to him.

It must be the darkness under the quilt that gave the young man endless courage.

” I… I’ve liked the Princess for a long time. During battles, I often think of the Princess, so much that I can’t sleep…”

He held his beloved little princess in his arms, put his lips close to her ear, and in a slightly trembling voice, expressed his deep longing for her.

The setting sun fell over Lingshan Mountain amid the sound of returning birds flying into the forest.

The scenery all around was cloudy and it was getting dark.

“That’s the end of it, Your Majesty! This old servant doesn’t dare go on—not proper for Your Majesty to hear the rest, is it? Please, just spare me this time!”

The old palace eunuch chuckled as he thumped his crippled leg and glanced around the quiet hilltop.

“Do you like this dream of mine, Your Majesty? I laughed so much I might just live another twenty years. It’s getting late—I’ll take my leave for today, and not disturb Your Majesty and the Empress any further. If Your Majesty still wishes to hear more tomorrow, I’ll gladly come and tell the rest…”

The old palace eunuch knelt down with the help of a stone bench and kowtowed respectfully towards Lingshan Mountain in the setting sun. Then, leaning on the bench again, he pushed himself upright with some effort. Supported by a young attendant rushing up from the distance, he slowly made his way down the hill.

One day in the future, when this loyal old eunuch passes away, lying in the burial place left for him by the late emperor, he would take away not only the secrets he guarded about the underground imperial mausoleum but also this wonderful, dreamlike experience that had brought him limitless joy and comfort.

However, as the saying goes—true companions across a hundred years, fated lovers through three lifetimes.

Who could truly say that the old palace eunuch’s dream wasn’t real?

—THE END—

　　The author has something to say:

The story is completely finished, but the princess and Pei Er continue to live happily in their world.

I love my daughter and son-in-law Pei Er…

Thank you all again, grateful for your companionship!

See you in the next story~

  Translator’s note:

It’s finally finish! Thank you all for following around this amazing story. See in my next project.

Previous     TOC