Chapter 5

I could only explain.

“Wanrou, I can't save him. The crown prince's rebellion is a crime that can destroy whole families. Everyone in the capital knows how close Pei Jingzhao was to him. He can't clear himself of suspicion. Who dares step into that muddy water now?”

13

The ducal household had built its power at court over many years. Some foundation remained.

Far away at the frontier, Pei Jingxing risked his life to recover the lost territory.

Then he submitted a memorial offering all his military achievements in exchange for his family's lives.

The border still needed him.

The Court of Judicial Review had also failed to find firm evidence that Pei Jingzhao personally joined the rebellion.

The emperor's anger gradually cooled.

Pei Jingzhao kept his life.

But the dukedom was stripped away.

There was no longer room for the family in the capital.

Late that autumn, the frontier stabilized, and Pei Jingxing returned to report.

By then, I was no longer the timid, shrinking girl who had first entered the marquis's household.

Leaving court, I discussed people's livelihoods with my colleagues.

A few steps behind, he watched in a daze.

Now, I could do more than ride a horse.

I had read history. I could offer my own views on government and ordinary lives.

The bewildered peasant girl I had once been seemed another person.

Afterward, his gaze found me more often.

He invented reasons to send gifts and opportunities to talk.

Whenever he looked at me, his eyes were so bright they were difficult to meet. He made no effort to hide his feelings.

Only now did he truly like me.

I had no intention of accepting.

So when he invited me to a teahouse again, I agreed.

Some things had to be said face to face.

I didn't waste words.

“General Pei, you say you love me now. But you still keep a place in your heart for Wanrou, don't you?”

Alarm crossed his face. He shook his head hard.

“No. She's my sister-in-law. I no longer have romantic feelings for her.”

“You don't mean that. You're deceiving yourself too.”

I smiled slightly.

“You loved her for years and treated her as an untouchable moon. Moonlight doesn't fade merely because she married someone else. You'll always keep a place for her.”

After a long silence, he said quietly, “My brother, Wanrou, and I grew up together. Even if I no longer love her that way, she's still an old friend of many years.”

“Exactly. An old friend unlike anyone else in your life. You'll trust and help her without reservation. No woman who comes afterward can surpass that special bond.”

He hurried to object.

“It isn't like that. I've given you my whole heart.”

“A whole heart doesn't mean a whole love. Half of your first love went to her long ago.”

I met his eyes and spoke clearly.

“General Pei, I respect you for defending our country. Please respect my choice too. I don't want a love divided in two.”

He shuddered.

In truth, his attitude toward me was no different from my father's, mother's, or brother's.

They let a little love slip through their fingers and thought that, after my miserable earlier life, this warmth should count as grace.

In their eyes, that much was all I deserved.

Lin Wanrou received their entire love without effort.

Having received a little, how could I be dissatisfied?

What right did I have to ask for a whole love?

But I refused even that small charity.

Lowborn and insignificant though I might be, I still wanted someone to love me wholly.

I wanted none of their cheap pity.

14

Soon after our teahouse meeting, Pei Jingxing had to return to the frontier.

Before leaving, he asked, “He'er, do you still think of that soldier, Zhou An?”

“Yes.”

He couldn't understand.

“He was only a nameless foot soldier. Do you truly mean to remember him all your life?”

“Yes. He really was only a foot soldier.”

The sunlight was so bright I could hardly open my eyes.

A smile touched my lips, but my vision slowly blurred.

“General Pei, what if he was? Does being a foot soldier mean he doesn't deserve a place in a woman's heart forever?”

He lowered his head, ashamed.

“Perhaps I'll love someone else one day. But in matters of affection, your place in my heart can never surpass his.”

Storybooks exhausted the loves and hatreds of princes, ministers, gifted scholars, and beauties.

A peasant girl and a common soldier often couldn't even leave their names behind.

To the world, two insignificant people had no right to speak of love.

With a general standing before me, remembering a foot soldier made me ungrateful.

Was love born to belong only to brilliant people like Lin Wanrou and Pei Jingzhao?

If people had high and low stations, must love be divided into noble and base as well?

Pei Jingxing said nothing for a long time.

At last, he took a worn scented pouch from his robe and held it out.

“Zhou An died on the battlefield. Bodies covered the place. His remains can't be found now. Before dying, he entrusted this to a comrade. It was always very important to him.”

I received it with both hands.

The grief I had held down for years surged up at last.

15

In that moment, my last trace of hope vanished.

I returned to Qingzhou and built Zhou An a grave for his clothes and belongings.

Not long afterward, the emperor died. The Senior Princess ascended the throne.

I grew busier.

Three years passed before I next heard news of Lin Wanrou.

Mother said she hadn't seen me for a long time and missed me terribly. She specially called me back for a meal.

As it happened, a letter from Lin Wanrou arrived that same day.

She wrote that her current home was drafty in winter and stifling in summer. She couldn't grow used to it.

Her husband's official career was over. He drowned his sorrows in wine every day and never recovered.

The children were growing, each harder to manage than the last. She no longer knew what to do.

Everyone ate with bitterness in their mouths.

Father and my brother immediately sent money.

Mother held the letter and wept until she couldn't bear it, then returned to her room to cry aloud.

Afterward, she wrote back herself, repeatedly explaining how Lin Wanrou should arrange her life.

Tears soaked and wrinkled the paper.

I watched quietly, finished every grain of rice in my bowl, and walked out alone.

No one noticed me leave.

Looking up at the bright moon, I realized my heart no longer hurt.

That night, Mother's old illness returned.

She never rose from bed again.

Worried about Lin Wanrou, my brother left the capital to visit her.

They really were the finest mother and brother in the world.

Unfortunately, their goodness had never belonged to me.

No one expected a rockslide on his return journey.

His leg was crushed.

On hearing it, Mother coughed blood.

I learned all this much later.

After that family dinner, Her Majesty had sent me to inspect Shu.

Every day was so busy I barely stopped. Letters from the capital were set aside by the servants unless they concerned official business.

By then, Mother was gravely ill.

She wanted to see Lin Wanrou.

Lin Wanrou replied that she had children to care for and truly couldn't leave. She could only ask Mother to look after herself.

Mother wanted to see me once more too.

She wrote:

“He'er, I keep thinking of you. I want to see you again. Come home. Call me Mother once more. Will you?”

But that letter remained unopened.

I knew nothing of it.

When I finally found time to review the nonurgent letters, my maid rushed in to tell me Mother had died.

It was midwinter in Shu.

The night pierced to the bone. The moon stood high and cold, so white it held no warmth at all.

I stared at the maid.

Suddenly, my cheeks felt icy.

I touched them.

Only then did I realize I was crying.

16

As she lay dying, Mother kept calling Wanrou's name.

The child she loved most never came back.

Even as her eyes closed, she couldn't let go.

She left no words for me.

But she left me her entire dowry.

Struck by his son's damaged leg and the death of the wife he had married in youth, Father's hair turned white overnight.

After the funeral, the residence outwardly returned to order.

Inside him, there was no life left.

He and Mother had known each other since youth and loved each other for more than half their lives.

There had never been concubines or children by other women in the household.

Her death seemed to take almost all his spirit with it.

He soon resigned and took the family back to their ancestral home.

After losing the use of his leg, my brother grew increasingly bitter.

Afraid he would cause trouble, Father took him too.

He never asked to see me before leaving.

Perhaps in his heart, I had never truly counted as a daughter.

And perhaps, in their eyes, I had never been a good daughter either.

My world was much larger now.

I had aims of my own and friends working beside me.

I was no longer bound by the little affection the marquis's household could spare.

The road ahead stretched so far I couldn't see its end.

Thinking of the letters I had missed and their regrets, I told my maid that from now on, every letter, whoever sent it, must be placed in my hands immediately.

She agreed.

Unexpectedly, the first letter after that order came from Pei Jingxing.

He wandered through various subjects.

First, the frontier had won another battle. He and his soldiers were delighted.

Then, my reputation had reached even beyond the border. People spoke highly of me.

Only at the end did he ask whether I would come and see the magnificent frontier landscape for myself.

The line was carefully written, the strokes pressed firmly.

The writer had clearly been earnest.

My expression didn't change.

I raised my hand and dropped the letter into the candle flame.

Then I told my maid that every letter mattered from now on.

His alone was the exception.