Chapter 49

Chapter 49: Matters Concerning Helan It was as if a weary heart, battered by years of pain, had finally found a place where it could rest. She had thought that for the rest of her life, she could only endure the pain of the past, drifting through her remaining years in a daze like a puppet. She had never imagined that Heaven would show her such mercy, allowing her to meet someone like him. In this life, she had actually been able to meet someone like him. The cold political marriage she had expected had instead been filled with genuine love. Her husband treated her with a tenderness and tolerance as boundless as the deep sea. Beneath the surface, his sincere love for her burned as fiercely as a flame, yet it would never scorch her. It only made her feel warm, made her feel at peace. How fortunate she was. How truly fortunate. Endless joy surged through her heart, so overwhelming that she felt she might shed tears of happiness then and there. Biting down on her lip, she stretched out her arms and tightly embraced her husband. Her husband, in turn, held her just as tightly in his arms, embracing her as though she were a treasure bright as the moon—cherishing her above all else, never once failing to know how precious she was. Upon the rippling, jade-green waters of the Qinglan River, their reflections leaned closely together, blending into one. It was as if two people who had each been incomplete had finally found the missing half of themselves in this vast human world. As if, for the rest of their lives, they would always remain as they were now—relying upon and loving one another, staying together until the end of their days, never, ever to part. …………………… The wind passed by, and the rippling water blurred the reflection of the woman upon the river. Shaoyin had been standing by the river for a long time. She gazed at her reflection in the water, which the long wind sweeping across the Qinglan River had blown into a strand of crumpled gauze. Nothing could be seen clearly. Beside her, that person’s figure had long since disappeared. Her own gauze-like shadow drifted alone upon the water. Heaven had shown no mercy; her departed loved one was gone forever. Yet the scenery along the Qinglan River remained unchanged. Jade waves rippled across its surface, while flowers bloomed like a sea along the banks. The long wind from the distant mountains blew broadly across Shuobei’s boundless grasslands. Above them, the sky was a clear, spotless blue, and birds spread their wings and soared high. Shaoyin had left the capital with her family in late spring. After more than a month of travel by carriage and horse, they arrived in Shuobei just as the realm entered its warmest season: high summer. The summers in Shuobei were not hot, only warm—warm enough that the flowers and grasses, dormant throughout the bitter winter, all burst into vigorous growth at once, blooming with abandon. After enduring the winter, their vitality seemed even more exuberant and tenacious. Everything grew desperately upward in the gentle warmth, as if it could break through every barrier in the world. Perhaps she had wanted to see such a passionate, splendid landscape once more—the brilliant scenery she had once seen together with Helan. Perhaps that was why she had wanted to return to Shuobei. In truth, when she decided to make the journey back to Shuobei, Shaoyin herself did not know what she hoped to accomplish. She had simply felt an urgent longing to return after everything that had happened. After Helan passed away, she had hurried back to Daqi. She had thought that for the rest of her life, she would remain at home with her family, thinking of Helan until the end of her days. How could she have known that so many things would happen afterward? She learned of every old grievance and ancient enmity, and in the end, she personally witnessed Aunt take her own life. It seemed her heart could not bear so many things. When she could bear them no longer, she instinctively wanted to return to the place where her heart had once been at peace. Those years in Shuobei had perhaps been the most peaceful time of her life. But later, Shuobei also became the place that brought her the greatest sorrow. When she had hurriedly left Shuobei back then, it had seemed that she was not merely carrying out Helan’s final wishes, hoping that he could depart in peace. She had also been desperately fleeing from the truth that Helan was already dead. Because the people of Shuobei practiced secret burials and did not erect tombs, when Shaoyin returned to Shuobei, she could not visit Helan’s grave and perform the rites of remembrance as she would have done for a loved one in the Central Plains. She seemed not even to know where she could go to see Helan and speak with him. There was no grave, and the Heir Prince Helan’s Golden Tent that had once belonged to them now belonged to another son of the Great Khan of Shuobei. And yet, it also seemed that everywhere could be a place to find him. Across the grasslands of Shuobei remained far too many memories of the two of them. Every ray of sunlight, every strand of breeze, every star in the sky… Every tiny fragment of their ordinary days seemed capable of reflecting the past in which she and Helan had loved one another and stayed together. It was only after they had spoken honestly of their feelings beside the Qinglan River that Shaoyin learned Helan had fallen in love with her at first sight back in Lizhou. She was the “Wuqige” in his heart. She had thought that wedding ceremony had been unbearably awful because of her argument with Xiao Heng. Yet Helan had said that, at the time, he had seen the burning passion in her heart and found her pitiable, lovable, and admirable. Helan had said that he was extraordinarily fortunate—quite possibly the luckiest man beneath Heaven—to have met the woman he loved in a political marriage neither of them had been free to choose, and to be able to welcome her as his wife. By the Qinglan River, Helan had kissed her hands and, in his capacity as her husband, formally confessed his love for her. She had naturally loved Helan as well, having fallen in love with her husband long before she realized it. After they had confessed their feelings beside the Qinglan River, she and Helan had become true husband and wife. From then on, they had lived in perfect harmony, their love as deep as that between mandarin ducks and butterflies. But after only a few years, that beautiful time seemed to have been reclaimed by Heaven. Helan contracted an incurable illness, and Shaoyin, overcome with grief, tragically lost the child she carried. And yet it also seemed that Heaven had never truly been able to take those beautiful years away. Though sorrow and tears had filled the days that followed, the happiness they had once possessed had never faded or lost its luster in the slightest. Whenever a breeze passed through Shuobei, she felt as if she could remember it all. She would never, ever forget. Shaoyin walked slowly along the Qinglan River. From not far away came the laughter of children from time to time. With Older Brother and Sister-in-law accompanying them, A-Zhan and A-Yi were chasing one another and playing amid the boundless sea of flowers. The brilliant smiles on the children’s faces shone so brightly that they seemed capable of illuminating the hearts of all who saw them. Perhaps Helan had insisted, as he lay gravely ill and nearing death, that she not remain in Shuobei after he was gone but return as soon as possible to her family in her homeland because he wanted the companionship of her loved ones to heal her wounded heart. Helan could never have imagined that, after she returned to her homeland, so many things would happen. The grudges and enmities of the past were laid bare before her eyes. In the end, the flames of desire and hatred burned until they consumed everything together, and all the old affairs were reduced to a handful of ashes. She had taken part in it all, witnessed so much, and learned so much. Some matters of the past that she had once believed in without question acquired new answers before her eyes as the old hatred burned itself away. She understood why Xiao Heng had treated her with such coldness and distance throughout all those years. What she had once believed in her heart had not been a delusion. Xiao Heng had indeed liked her. The thought she had clung to in her youth had not been a one-sided fantasy of her own making. It had been the truth. It was only that hatred had twisted that affection, turning it into thorns of indifference. In those years, Xiao Heng had wrapped himself in the coldness of hatred like a hedgehog, trying again and again to force her to retreat. But whenever he did so, those thorns had not necessarily failed to wound him as well. In the letter she had written before leaving—one she had intended to send, but ultimately burned—Shaoyin had originally wanted to persuade Xiao Heng to let go. But at that time, she herself seemed unable to let go of many things. What position or right did she have to persuade anyone else? Shaoyin walked into the sea of flowers beside the Qinglan River. Her lowered hand brushed across one blooming flower after another. This was her final day in Shuobei. Soon, she would set out for home. The carriages and horses in the distance were waiting quietly. All this time, it seemed she had never truly said goodbye to Helan. When Helan had been gravely ill, she had held him in her arms on the bed and murmured that she had dreamed they had both transformed into butterflies, fluttering through the sea of flowers along the Qinglan River. Helan must have heard from her murmured words that she seemed intent on following him in death. That was why, later, as he neared the end, he had insisted that she stay away. He would not let her watch him draw his last breath, nor let her see his body burned to ashes in the flames. Helan had done everything he could to lessen her grief. But because of that, when the bond between them came to an end in this life, she had been unable to share a true farewell with him. On this journey back to Shuobei, Shaoyin thought, she must have wanted to say goodbye to Helan. Yet throughout the journey, and during all these days in Shuobei, she did not know whether she had managed it, or whether she ever could. Still, no matter what, it seemed she had to keep moving forward and looking ahead. Helan would never have wanted her to be like Zhu Yingtai, throwing herself into her beloved’s grave and spending the rest of her life there. He would have wanted her to live well, to live peacefully in this world, to see as many beautiful sights as possible, to meet good people and encounter good things, and to enjoy a lifetime of happiness until her hair turned white. In the distance, Older Brother and Sister-in-law were calling for her. The carriages and horses were about to depart. They waved at her and called loudly from afar, “Ayin, we’re going home!” A-Zhan and A-Yi also cried out cheerfully, “Aunt, come quickly! We’re going home!” Shaoyin stood amid the sea of flowers along the Qinglan River and gazed at her family in the distance. It was as if she could not quite make herself take a step. Although returning home today had clearly been her own decision, at this moment she seemed unable to move. It was as if countless memories of the past were holding her back, their roots sunk deep beneath this sea of flowers. Just as she stood there stiffly, hesitating, a butterfly fluttered past her hand. Shaoyin lost herself in thought for a moment. Then another gust of wind blew from behind her. It swept over the mountains of Shuobei, across the waters of the Qinglan River, and through the boundless sea of flowers. Warm and fragrant, it blew against her back, as if an invisible hand—strong yet gentle—were urging her forward. “Let’s go, Ayin.” That familiar voice from her memories seemed to echo softly in her ear amid the warm breeze. The butterfly’s wings fluttered as it flew before her eyes, beating its way higher into the air. A smile rose to Shaoyin’s lips. She turned toward the road ahead and began to walk.