3 Reunion
◎”Have you been well?” It was actually Prince Zhao who spoke first.◎
It was the season of March, with gentle spring breezes.
The morning mist had not yet fully dispersed, yet Vermilion Bird Street was already packed with people. Citizens flocked to the streets, vying for a glimpse of His Highness Prince Zhao leading the Black Armor Army in triumphant return.
Three thousand Yulin Army soldiers stood ready, guarding this bustling capital.
Even though she had anticipated the grand spectacle of the day and left her residence nearly half an hour early, Gu Ningxi was still taken aback by the sea of people before her.
Carriages had long been unable to pass through. Along the broad street, a Yulin soldier stood solemnly every three paces, holding a Chishuo halberd.
On her way to the city gate, the waist token in Gu Ningxi’s hand was inspected three times before she was allowed to proceed smoothly.
She found the ranks of the sixth-grade officials and stood among her colleagues from the Ministry of Works.
The Emperor was personally welcoming Prince Zhao’s return to court, and the imperial carriage would depart from the palace in another quarter of an hour. Civil and military officials gradually arrived in full force. Gu Ningxi looked around and saw that the front rows were filled with officials in crimson and purple robes, strikingly conspicuous under the sunlight.
The officials in blue and green robes appeared much more subdued, occupying a large open area in extended lines.
Gu Ningxi had originally wanted to spot her cousin’s position, but given the circumstances, she had to give up.
After waiting idly for a long time, Gu Ningxi occasionally exchanged a few words with her colleagues beside her.
The sunlight was brilliant, and the clamor of the crowd was deafening. Accompanied by the eunuchs’ layered announcements, the noisy city gate tower suddenly fell into silence.
Imperial guards cleared the way with royal insignias. From a distance, the imperial procession appeared majestic and extraordinary.
“We pay homage to Your Majesty. Long live Your Majesty, long live, long live!”
The officials bowed their heads, and the cries of “long live” echoed to the heavens. Emperor Mingde, wearing the Nine-Dragon Imperial Crown, ascended the city gate slowly amidst the throng of ministers. The founding emperor, content and satisfied, was accompanied by Crown Prince Lu Heng at his side.
Today, he was welcoming back another beloved son.
Military horns blared, ceremonial music resounded, and the marching footsteps were perfectly synchronized, now less than a hundred paces from the city gate.
With the empire newly stabilized, the young men who had fought on the battlefield had fully displayed the might of the Great Jin. All its citizens rejoiced and took pride in this.
Amidst the obstructing crowds, Gu Ningxi could only occasionally catch glimpses through gaps, sensing the grand spectacle of Prince Zhao’s triumphant return. Even being part of such a momentous event, she found it difficult to witness the full scene.
She gazed at the city wall and, for the first time, could not help but wonder what scenery the Emperor saw from his vantage point.
In future historical records, Prince Zhao’s triumphant return would undoubtedly be written as a richly detailed chapter.
Banners fluttered vigorously in the wind. Gu Ningxi listened as the ceremonial music changed, indicating that Prince Zhao had likely dismounted to pay respects to His Majesty.
She followed the others in offering salutations: “We respectfully welcome His Highness Prince Zhao.”
“Welcome, Your Highness Prince Zhao.”
“May Your Highness Prince Zhao enjoy boundless blessings.”
The crowd surged, and the imperial guards had already cleared a passage in advance.
The imperial carriage procession returned to the palace in grand array, with the common people cheering and rejoicing.
Gu Ningxi moved along with the officials, and the entire half-day passed swiftly in the midst of waiting and paying respects.
…
The victory banquet in the Taiji Hall had long been prepared, awaiting only Prince Zhao’s return to the palace to commence.
Emperor Mingde sat alone in the honored position facing south, with the Crown Prince and Prince Zhao flanking him slightly behind. The Ministry of Rites dared to arrange it this way only with the Emperor’s approval—Prince Zhao’s seat was almost on par with that of the Crown Prince.
Gu Ningxi’s rank was not high, but because she also held the position of Assistant to the Crown Prince, her seat was mostly arranged behind the Eastern Palace. Surrounded by colleagues from the Eastern Palace, with Prince Zhao’s achievements so towering that they overshadowed the Crown Prince and directly challenged the Eastern Palace, Gu Ningxi noticed their expressions were rather grim.
Originally, the Crown Prince had been the sole standout, with constant covert and overt struggles within the Eastern Palace. Now, however, a sense of shared animosity seemed to have emerged among them all.
Gu Ningxi’s alcohol tolerance was decent, and she drank a few cups with her colleagues during the banquet.
After several rounds of song and dance performances, when the herald rose by imperial command, civil and military officials alike held their breath in unison, awaiting His Majesty’s rewards for the generals and soldiers of the eastern campaign.
The position of the Eastern Palace naturally remained unchanged. By imperial decree, Prince Zhao was elevated to the Super First Rank, placing him above all other princes and dukes. He was permitted to establish his own administrative offices and recruit talented individuals. Additionally, Prince Zhao Lu Jing was appointed as the Grand Secretariat Director of the Administrative Commission for the Shandong Circuit, Right Guard General of the Martial Guard, and Governor of Yizhou.
Gu Ningxi roughly calculated that Prince Zhao now held eight or nine official titles in total—so many that even he himself might not remember them all.
Beyond this, Emperor Mingde also bestowed upon Prince Zhao four bronze cauldrons, granting him the authority to mint his own currency.
Apart from the position of heir apparent, the Emperor had bestowed nearly every conceivable honor.
“Your son thanks Your Majesty for your profound grace.”
The expressions among the court officials varied. Prince Zhao’s campaign had swept away the Zheng and Xia kingdoms, bringing the fertile lands north and south of the Yellow River entirely under the Great Jin’s control. No reward could be considered excessive.
After Prince Zhao expressed his gratitude and returned to his seat, Emperor Mingde laughed heartily and shared another hearty drink with him.
“Continue reading.”
The herald unrolled the imperial edict in his hands. Most of the generals who had distinguished themselves in the eastern campaign were from Prince Zhao’s command. With each commendation read aloud, the hearts of those in the Eastern Palace sank unavoidably, though they had to conceal their feelings on the surface.
Seeing that Gu Ningxi still had the composure to eat, an official serving in the Eastern Palace behind her felt genuine admiration.
Since even Minister Gu, who bore the brunt of it, showed no worry, there was no need for them to fret over imagined troubles at this moment.
Gu Ningxi ate half a flatbread but had little appetite. However, having stood at the city gates for half a day, she needed something to sustain herself.
Among the long list of rewards, Emperor Mingde singled out a young general, bestowing upon him the title of Marquis of Wu’an.
He was one of the three great generals of the Black Armor Army under Prince Zhao’s command, the son of the former Duke of Bohai—Xie Qian.
Prince Zhao had campaigned north and south, gathering a host of renowned generals under his banner. Gu Ningxi inadvertently glanced up, and when she clearly saw the face of the young general standing in the center of the hall, for a moment, it felt as if all the clamor of the banquet had faded away, dissolving into nothingness.
Gu Ningxi struggled to control her expression, her knuckles turning white from gripping her wine cup.
She was certain she had never seen this triumphant, battle-hardened young general before, yet he—he was identical in every detail to the figure from her dreams.
Memories of a dream from a month ago flooded her mind. He was unmistakably the young commander who had guarded the Yingtian Gate after the palace coup in her dream.
Gu Ningxi carefully recalled the words spoken by the figure in her dream. When inspecting the token, they had addressed him as “General Xie.”
“Minister Gu, Minister Gu?”
The one who spoke up to remind her was a colleague from the Eastern Palace who was on good terms with her: “Why is Minister Gu so lost in thought?”
The phrase “lost in thought” was put delicately. Gu Ningxi’s mind returned to the present, and looking down, she could see that most of the wine in her cup had spilled, even staining her robe.
She forced a smile at her colleague: “I was merely thinking about matters from the Ministry of Works.”
She managed to gloss over the incident. A serving maid attending the banquet fetched a cloth and knelt to wipe the spilled wine from Gu Ningxi’s table.
“Thank you for your trouble.”
“You are too kind, my lady.”
Gu Ningxi’s gaze returned to the distance. Fortunately, her seat was inconspicuous, and likely no one had noticed this small interruption.
The music and dance continued, and the clinking of cups and goblets echoed ceaselessly through the hall. Yet, not a single word or object from the latter half of the banquet registered in Gu Ningxi’s mind.
…
The moon rose above the willow branches, and by the time the banquet ended, the sky had darkened, with palace lanterns lighting up one after another.
Leaving the Taiji Hall, Gu Ningxi found an excuse to bid farewell to her colleagues and took a quieter path alone.
Moonlight filtered through the leaves as Gu Ningxi leaned her hands on the white marble railing. The evening breeze blew, yet it could not dispel the tangled thoughts in her mind.
The palace coup, General Xie, Prince Zhao…
The distant clamor from the palace banquet mingled with the intertwining of dreams and reality, making it difficult to distinguish one from the other.
Was it truly just a case of thinking too much during the day, leading to dreams at night?
But the accumulation of coincidences forced her to ponder deeply.
The scenes in the dream felt too real—especially the scorching heat of his hand clasped around her waist, and the endless…
Tree shadows swayed, and the lush leaves shimmered with a soft glow under the starlight.
Lost in her chaotic thoughts, Gu Ningxi only turned around when she sensed movement, unexpectedly meeting the gaze of the newcomer.
An octagonal glass palace lantern illuminated the path ahead, and at the center of the crowd of officials stood Prince Zhao, dressed in a black brocade robe adorned with cloud patterns. The dark jade crown holding his hair was smooth and translucent, seemingly softening his sharp edges.
As their eyes met, Gu Ningxi stood alone, staring blankly at him, who was surrounded like the moon among stars.
“Have you been well?” It was Prince Zhao who spoke first.
Xie Qian raised an eyebrow slightly in surprise. Judging by His Highness’s tone, the green-robed civil official before them seemed to be an old acquaintance of the prince.
Curious, he looked over. Even under the dim moonlight, the person’s appearance was strikingly exceptional. The moonlight outlined his jade-like, delicate features, and the hem of his green robe fluttered in the wind, as if he were an immortal banished to the mortal world under the moon. His lips were slightly pale, and he seemed lost in thought, standing alone in this place.
The courtyard was silent. Gu Ningxi, belatedly realizing, clasped her hands in a bow. “Your humble servant greets Your Highness. May Your Highness be blessed.”
The evening breeze swept between them. Three years had passed, and now, face to face once more, an unavoidable barrier stood between them.
“Rise,” Lu Jing said indifferently.
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
Gu Ningxi instinctively stepped aside to make way, the sense of distance between them inevitably softened somewhat by the dream.
Lu Jing said nothing, but with a single glance, his chief steward, Sun Jing, immediately understood. “This servant understands.”
Prince Zhao strode away, leaving behind Gu Ningxi and a palace attendant from the prince’s residence. Gu Ningxi recognized him—it was Cheng Wen, who had followed Prince Zhao since childhood.
Cheng Wen said, “This servant has been ordered by His Highness to escort Lord Gu out of the palace.”
Gu Ningxi was taken aback and glanced at the figure already walking away.
…
The night had grown deep, and most of the carriages at the palace gate had already departed, leaving only a few scattered ones.
Having waited for a long time without seeing his master, Li Ping, the coachman, wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. Today, with the palace banquet, they were only permitted to wait outside the palace gates as usual.
Several colleagues close to his master had already returned to their residences, so Lord Gu should not have lingered in the palace for long.
Li Ping grew increasingly anxious as he watched another carriage depart. He jumped down from the carriage and decided to wait by the palace gate.
After roughly the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, Li Ping finally caught sight of his master, but noticed someone following behind him.
“Take care, Lord Gu,” Cheng Wen bowed, watching Lord Gu depart before returning to the prince’s residence to report.
Li Ping, having received his master, fetched a cloak as instructed by the lady of the house. “Your complexion looks unwell, my lord. Are you feeling ill?”
Gu Ningxi smiled bitterly, “Is it that obvious?” She gathered the ties of her robe, utterly exhausted. “Let’s go back.”
“Yes, my lady.”
…
That night, Gu Ningxi slept restlessly. Despite her overwhelming fatigue, she tossed and turned in bed, unable to fall into a deep slumber until the early hours of the morning.
The silent moonlight illuminated an unfamiliar, opulent palace hall before her.
Sandalwood beams supported the ceiling, while golden bricks paved the floor. Night pearls in the corners of the hall emitted a soft glow. The antique shelves were adorned with rare treasures—a quick glance revealed a mutton-fat jade plum vase, a gold filigree-inlaid auspicious ruyi scepter, and a red-and-white agate peach blossom vase. Any one of these items was a priceless rarity.
On the northern shelf hung the “River and Mountain Landscape” by the former painting sage Li Sidao, its majestic aura making it worth a fortune.
Such a bedchamber could rival the standards of an emperor’s quarters. As a Ministry of Works official, she was well-versed in palace furnishings.
A nine-paneled green jade screen partitioned the inner chamber. Before the dressing table sat a young woman, the hem of her emerald peony brocade Wangxian Gown trailing elegantly on the floor, adorned with exquisite pearls and jade.
Three or four maids attended to her grooming, with a three-tiered sandalwood dressing case open before them.
“This pair of jade phoenix hairpins is newly crafted by the inner court; this Hetian warm jade hairpin is a tribute from outside the palace; and these several pairs of buyao hair ornaments—which would Your Highness like to wear today?”
“Any will do,” her voice was calm and indifferent.
The maids hesitated before finally selecting the Hetian warm jade hairpin. Another maid smiled warmly as she presented a cosmetics box. “His Majesty will be visiting this evening. Would Your Highness like to try the jasmine perfume?”
“No need.”
The maids meticulously styled her hair, and the already elaborate coiffure, with careful embellishment, grew even more extraordinary.
The bronze mirror reflected the woman’s stunning beauty, yet even the dazzling floral adornment on her forehead could not conceal the gloom between her brows.
She resembled a gift, meticulously adorned, awaiting someone’s appreciation.
The dreamscape dissolved, replaced by the flickering glow of red candles.
Through the jade-embroidered brocade curtains, faint silhouettes intertwined on the bed.
The Hetian warm jade hairpin was casually tossed by the emperor onto the small table beside the bed. The woman’s dark hair cascaded, spilling across the pillow.
Jade pendants hanging from the four corners of the brocade curtains swayed incessantly, occasionally accompanied by her suppressed, melodious murmurs.
The moon hung heavy in the sky—the night was still long.
The emperor’s command was husky and low, as he freely manipulated her into the desired form. “Here… open a little wider.”
[Author’s Note]
This is not a rebirth story—just a dream of a past life.