“Your Highness, it hurts…”
The gentle snowfall brushed against the tightly shut lattice windows, the biting wind entwining with soft, melodious gasps from within the bed curtains, drifting away slowly into the night.
Inside the spring-filled room, candlelight illuminated two entwined figures.
The woman’s raven-black hair spilled across the pillow, her almond-shaped eyes slightly closed with a misty, intoxicated gaze, her features radiating with spring’s passionate allure.
The tall man enveloped her in his embrace, gently brushing aside the sweat-dampened strands of hair from her cheek, his voice hoarse: “Has Tang Tang become unable to endure after just two months apart?”
Without mercy, he kissed her lips again:
“Be good, you can take it.”
……
Nan Shu slept restlessly with her eyes tightly shut, the sounds of entangled men and women lingering in her ears amid the dense fog.
She hugged the quilt tightly in her arms, her cheeks involuntarily flushing with a rosy hue, her willow-leaf eyebrows occasionally furrowing and relaxing as if restrained by something.
Suddenly, Nan Shu trembled all over and opened her eyes.
Her gaze was confused and bewildered until she saw the dark green bed curtains above her head, slowly regaining her composure.
She had actually dreamed of Yan Pingxiao.
And it was a spring dream.
Nan Shu irritably rubbed the space between her eyebrows. The first thing she did upon waking was glance at the calendar by the window – fifteen days left until she could leave the palace.
After breakfast, Nan Shu took Qing Zhu to Fahua Hall.
Today, a master was chanting sutras, and Consort Rong had prepared a Guanyin statue to gift to the Empress Dowager, asking her to request the master’s blessing.
Fahua Hall.
“Please wait here for a moment, miss. The master will see you after completing the morning rituals.”
Nan Shu pressed her palms together and bowed to the young novice monk: “Thank you for your trouble.”
After the novice left, Nan Shu didn’t wander around but sat to rest in the pavilion in the backyard.
It was still early, and aside from the monks chanting sutras in the hall, no one else appeared.
In the courtyard, branches and leaves overlapped, sunlight filtering through the dense foliage to cast mottled shadows, with an ancient towering tree standing in the center.
The ancient tree was covered with red silk ribbons bearing wishes, large swathes of red swaying in the spring breeze.
Many palace servants came here to make wishes; it was said that the higher the cloth strip was hung, the more likely the deities would hear one’s heartfelt desires.
In the pavilion stood a stone table with red cloth and writing implements.
Nan Shu suddenly felt like writing one too. She picked up the brush, but after thinking for a long time, only managed to write the two characters “peace and well-being.”
Her only wish was to live in peace and well-being for the rest of her life.
But before she could hang it up, rain suddenly began to fall outside.
The early spring weather was changeable; the rain came urgently and would pass quickly, so Nan Shu wasn’t too concerned.
The rain grew heavier, the raindrops drifting into the narrow pavilion, dampening her black hair and veil.
Outside the pavilion, crabapple flowers grew, their delicate petals battered by wind and rain yet still stubbornly clinging to the branches.
“This year’s flowers bloom brighter than last year’s, but next year’s will be even more beautiful. Who will enjoy them with me then?”
Nan Shu suddenly recalled these words.
She remembered being in the harsh, cold northwest, where even in spring, few flowers could bloom.
During her first spring at the Prince’s manor, she saw crabapple trees planted in the courtyard. She waited and waited, watching as bud after bud was blown down by the harsh winds, never witnessing the crabapple flowers in full bloom.
That night, when the man returned and found her still leaning against the windowsill looking at the bare branches outside, he asked her: “Do you like crabapple flowers that much?”
Lan Shu turned around, somewhat dejected: “Mother said that when I was born, it happened to be the season when crabapple flowers bloom. When she opened her eyes back then, she saw the window filled with crabapple blossoms outside, which is why she gave me this childhood name.”
“In previous years at home, I could always see the crabapple flowers at this time of year.”
Yan Pingxiao seemed thoughtful as he closed the window: “The wind is strong, rest early.”
“Perhaps you’ll be able to see them in a few days.”
Lan Shu thought he was joking, but one day, when she opened her eyes, the crabapple flowers in the courtyard had truly bloomed.
She happily threw herself into the man’s embrace, lifting her small face to ask him: “How was this accomplished?”
He said: “As long as one has the heart, flowers will bloom.”
Yan Pingxiao embraced her from behind as they watched the crabapple blossoms outside together. When he smiled, his originally stern eyebrows and eyes softened considerably.
Like the first spring rain, washing away all the chill.
In a daze, Nan Shu seemed to see Yan Pingxiao walking toward her.