Elio’s Notes: The title, 东风惆怅欲清明, is taken from Zhang Bi’s Manggong Hua: The Flowers Are in Full Bloom (《满宫花·花正芳》). The full closing line reads, “The east wind grows melancholy as Qingming nears; by the bridge, the young noble lies drunk.” Qingming is the springtime Tomb-Sweeping Festival, closely associated with remembrance of the dead, which gives the borrowed line an added resonance here.
On the night he died, Jiang Zheng repeatedly dreamed that the ever-burning lamp before the Buddhist shrine toppled and set everything ablaze. Amid the illusory reflections of flowers in a mirror and the moon upon water, even the Buddha’s compassionate face became hideous and terrifying. Several times in the darkness, Jiang Zheng woke with a start, struggled to his feet, and ran to the front hall to check, terrified that something might have gone wrong.
Yet everything was safe. Everything was exactly as it had been through countless days and nights before, without the slightest difference.
When one person died, it was simply as though a single stroke had crossed him out.
And the turning of this world would never stop. After all, who were you? You were no one.
Afterward came a long period of waiting.
The years gradually wore away Jiang Zheng’s sharp edges. Alone, he waited for an opportunity, persisting in living under that child’s identity. After enough time passed, he began to forget who he himself had once been.
He refused to remove the wooden bracelet from his wrist, day or night. In his dreams, the child seemed forever to be saying that he would definitely come back to find this bracelet. Jiang Zheng would wake irritated by the voice in his heart, yet he could never truly harden himself enough to abandon it.
He always felt that because the child was gone, Jiang Zheng now had to do his best to fulfill that hope in his place. Perhaps somewhere inside him remained the childish urge to compete: You let go so casually, so I will make certain I beat you.
Until one day, upheaval suddenly came to the temple.
Andong Temple lay north of Jinling and could be counted as the foremost great monastery of the capital. Visits from imperial relatives and nobles had never been unusual. Monastics were not supposed to inquire too deeply into affairs of government, but rumors from the turbulent world outside spread through the mouths of commoners who came to pray for peace and add incense offerings, and so Jiang Zheng inevitably heard one thing or another. The Crown Prince was becoming increasingly overbearing.
What did any of that have to do with him? Then one night, under the abbot’s authority, he was shut inside a meditation room and forbidden to leave.
Someone entered. It was not Master Jinghui. Only later did Jiang Zheng learn that his master had been placed under confinement.
The monk standing before him was also of his martial-uncle’s generation. Rolling prayer beads between his fingers, the man immediately asked, “I heard that many years ago, you and a child named Zhao Guangyi both cultivated under Senior Brother Jinghui?”
Jiang Zheng nodded, though he had no idea why he was being asked. More than ten years had passed. The children from those years had scattered in every direction, and very few of those who had formally remained at the monastery were still here. Yet someone had suddenly come asking about that child.
“What happened to him afterward? Did he really die?” The man before him asked as casually as though it hardly mattered.
Jiang Zheng could only nod again.
“Did he give you this bracelet?”
“Yes.”
“Then that is excellent. From now on, you are Zhao Guangyi.” His martial uncle closed his eyes after speaking, pressed his palms together, and quietly chanted, “Amitabha.”
The flickering candlelight was exceptionally dim. During the final minute in which the two characters Jiang Zheng still existed in this world, their owner stood frozen inside the meditation room and remembered the obsession that child had refused to release even as he departed.
In a voice already close to disappearing, he called himself, “Zhao Guangyi.”
The sound swelled again and again in his mind, together with that young, harmless face.
And the bracelet the dying child had been unable to forget.
More than ten years had passed. Turning those memories over again, Jiang Zheng found that not a speck of dust had settled upon them. So all these years, he had gone to sleep with them beneath his head. I still owe you.
If I exchange the loss of myself for the preservation of your faith, will that be enough?
Only afterward did he learn the full cause and consequence. Someone in the north had colluded with Crown Prince Li Hongji. The people of Zhou wanted Zhao Kuangyin to die in the south, but Li Hongji harbored schemes of his own. With the Crown Prince’s vicious temperament, he had never been someone who ought to be trusted in an alliance. Li Hongji had intended to seize control of Zhao Kuangyin’s younger brother first and turn him to his own use.
Unfortunately, Zhao Guangyi was dead.
Or perhaps Jiang Zheng should have been grateful that the child died early. If Zhao Guangyi himself had faced their coercion, Jiang Zheng truly could not imagine what might have happened. So Li Hongji confined the abbot and took control of Andong Temple for one simple purpose: they needed someone who could become Zhao Guangyi. Considering Jiang Zheng’s shared childhood with him, no one could have been more suitable.
From that day onward, Jiang Zheng was Zhao Guangyi.
Jiang Zheng himself did not particularly object. If Zhao Kuangyin was not overly suspicious, he would certainly take him away. Jiang Zheng did not care who used what method. If it allowed him to escape beneath this narrow patch of sky, it would already be the greatest gift anyone could give him. Why refuse?
He had long grown weary of reciting Buddhist scriptures, and salvation was something he had ceased even hoping for. Whether good or bad awaited him, he should not grow old and die inside a monastery in Jiangnan. Everything that followed would prove precisely that.
Everything the child had told him suddenly became useful. Through countless summer nights, unable to sleep amid the sound of cicadas, the two of them had hidden beneath the blankets and whispered about the past. Childhood. The bracelet. Big Brother. The flood. Their wanderings. Andong Temple. The Zhao Guangyi of today was calm and meticulous, but there was one thing he had never expected: Zhao Kuangyin had actually killed Li Hongji.
Military Governor Wang Rao of Zhou probably had not expected it either.
Wang Rao wanted to eliminate Zhao Kuangyin because his achievements were gradually beginning to overshadow his own, but he had never imagined that during this journey south Zhao Kuangyin would dare kill the Crown Prince of Tang. Fortunately, the sword-browed man still brought “Guangyi” out of the monastery. As long as Zhao Kuangyin had not yet returned to Kaifeng, there was still opportunity. Wang Rao therefore sent men ahead of them to eliminate Abbot Jingde of Zhongmiao Temple at Chaohu, whom Zhao Kuangyin had once met, and then supported the young Jingwen in becoming the new abbot. The powerful and the monasteries colluded with one another. Even those who had left the secular world did not necessarily truly take refuge in the Bodhisattva. When Zhao Guangyi saw Zhongmiao Temple gleaming with gold and splendor that day, his heart had been full of mockery.
For the temple to survive the flames of war and even undergo repeated renovations afterward, the people within could hardly be ordinary. Most likely, only collusion with officials of the current court could have supported such extravagance.
The human heart truly was difficult to fathom.
Jingwen had given him the poison. Kill Zhao Kuangyin, and everything he has will become yours.
Wang Rao’s meaning could not have been clearer.
Unfortunately, Jiang Zheng had not been able to bring himself to strike.
When Zhao Guangyi finished packing his things in the morning and set out with Big Brother, he turned one last time to look toward the pointed bell tower rising over Chaohu. There was indeed nothing new beneath the sunlight.
Beneath the pale blue sky, everything was filthy.
So I will risk myself in your place.
In chaotic times, one should never casually trust any person or thing. As Zhao Guangyi and Big Brother mounted their horses, Zhao Guangyi suddenly smiled. But this time, living under your identity, I truly began to believe I was you. Let us hope it happens only this once.
I owe you.
Goodbye.
The sound of hoofbeats gradually receded, carrying him farther and farther from Andong Temple. A thousand li of river water surged across the land. The old sandalwood bracelet jolted violently against Zhao Guangyi’s wrist with the horse’s movement. He did not know what the future held, but he was not a man who would compromise against his own wishes merely to survive. Wang Rao? He would leave Wang Rao to Zhao Kuangyin.
For the time being, at least, following this man who carried his sword north and south offered a stable life in the present world and little reason to worry.
After several consecutive days of hard travel, the two brothers had spoken very little, yet Zhao Guangyi understood that for now, at least, Big Brother was genuinely willing to try. Zhao Kuangyin was willing to trust him.
As they drew near Kaifeng, they came upon a thatched tea stall beside the road and dismounted to rest. They were halfway through their tea when dust suddenly billowed along the road leading out of Kaifeng, and a carriage came racing toward them.
Neither man initially paid it much attention. But when the carriage neared the tea stall, a young maid climbed down to fetch tea for the person inside. Zhao Kuangyin glanced at her and vaguely felt she looked familiar. Before he could think further, the maid carefully carried the tea back to the carriage. The beaded curtain had been lifted halfway, making it impossible to see the occupant clearly.
“Miss, you left in such a hurry that Ling’er didn’t even have time to pack anything. Drink some tea and rest for a moment.”
A gentle woman’s voice came from behind the curtain. “We’ve barely gone anywhere and you’re already trying to be lazy. At this rate, when will we ever find him?”
The moment those words were spoken, Zhao Kuangyin abruptly set down his teacup and stood. Guangyi, seated beside him, did not understand why and followed his gaze toward the carriage at the roadside. Its decorations were not extravagant, but it was clearly not the traveling carriage of an ordinary household.
The instant Zhao Kuangyin heard that voice, he was already partly certain. He took one step forward, then hesitated before finally calling, “Yunjie?”
The maid carrying the tea whirled around. The moment she recognized Zhao Kuangyin, she cried out in shock.
“Lord Zhao… Zhao… ah! Miss!”
The person inside the carriage showed no surprise. A faint sigh could be heard. She too seemed hesitant. For quite some time, Zhao Kuangyin did not approach and the person inside did not emerge. The situation became remarkably awkward.
“Yunjie, are you… leaving the city?”
The woman inside finally answered, “Yes… I’m looking for someone.”
Zhao Kuangyin slowly walked closer. “Who?”
“Someone who went and put himself in danger.”
The voice from within was very soft. She was clearly a young woman.
Zhao Kuangyin reached the side of the carriage. The maid called Ling’er stood to one side with her head lowered, glancing first at him and then toward the carriage. From here he could finally see through the half-raised beaded curtain. Yunjie sat within, dressed in the plain clothing of an ordinary commoner. His voice softened. “You came looking for me?”
She sighed. “If you stayed away any longer, no one would have been able to keep covering for you.”
Zhao Kuangyin’s sword-like brows lifted. “If I hadn’t returned, there would naturally have been another reason.” He turned and beckoned Zhao Guangyi to follow. “Yunjie, we’ll talk after we return to the city. We’re out in the wilderness right now. I’ll take you back first.”
Zhao Kuangyin had Zhao Guangyi ride behind them, then immediately reached for the carriage reins to drive back toward Kaifeng. But the woman behind him suddenly rose and stretched out a hand to stop him. “Once we return, I’m afraid there will be things I can no longer say. I don’t know what Father will do when he sees that you returned safely. I only know that according to his original plan, you absolutely should not still be alive today.” In her urgency, her hand caught the one Zhao Kuangyin had placed on the reins. The words tumbled out rapidly. Realizing her action was improper, she immediately withdrew her hand, her elegant face drawn with worry.
Zhao Kuangyin did not seem to think anything of it. He glanced around. The worker at the tea stall was yawning endlessly, and there were no other travelers stopping along the desolate road.
Very well. He released the reins and turned to her. “Yunjie, what do you know?”
“I don’t know the details. Father would never tell me such things. But a few days ago, I accidentally heard him arranging for people to go to Zhongmiao Temple at Chaohu. I couldn’t find any chance to leave until today, when I finally slipped out to look for you… I… The last time I asked you to accompany me to Zhongmiao Temple to pray, I heard you learn there of your younger brother’s whereabouts. I thought that after finding your brother, you would surely return to Zhongmiao Temple. I was afraid…”
Zhao Guangyi was sitting on horseback nearby. Hearing this, he could not help looking at her several more times. The woman was pretty in a refined way, not stunningly beautiful, but distinguished by her bearing. At a glance, anyone could tell she came from a noble household. Her voice was gentle and kind.
She was probably the woman Big Brother had mentioned before, the one he had accompanied to Zhongmiao Temple. If that was so, then this woman was Wang Rao’s daughter? Zhao Guangyi noticed her glance unintentionally toward him. Yunjie then asked Zhao Kuangyin, “Is he… the younger brother you mentioned?”
Zhao Kuangyin said yes. No surprise appeared on Yunjie’s face. Zhao Guangyi thought that she apparently did not know very much. It seemed she was unaware that Wang Rao had ordered him to poison Zhao Kuangyin. Slightly reassured, he gave her a courteous greeting.
Zhao Kuangyin looked at her and seemed uncertain how to make the introduction, so he could only say, “This is Lord Wang Rao’s daughter. Guangyi, she is the person I mentioned before. If not for her, I would never have entered Zhongmiao Temple and learned where you might be.”
Zhao Guangyi smiled as he looked at the two of them, while inwardly wondering whether this woman had been unknowingly used by her father or whether she too had followed Wang Rao’s instructions and lured Zhao Kuangyin to Zhongmiao Temple.
Zhao Kuangyin soon voiced that very question himself. He disliked speaking in circles, especially because he believed he knew Yunjie’s nature. “Yunjie, tell me truthfully. When you invited me to Zhongmiao Temple last time, was it coincidence, or were you following your father’s instructions?”
Yunjie’s long hair was arranged in an elegant high coiffure that suited her refined bearing. Hearing the question, disappointment appeared on her face. “If I intended to follow Father’s wishes, why would I have gone to such trouble to come looking for you today?”
But Zhao Kuangyin could be ruthless when he chose. Without hesitation, he answered, “And how do I know that your coming out today isn’t simply the next part of the scheme?”
“You!” Yunjie was clearly furious. Ling’er, standing beside her, could no longer hold back either and snapped, “Lord Zhao, how can you be so heartless? My young lady secretly slipped out to find you and didn’t even have time to pack a change of clothes… yet you’re this ungrateful…”
Zhao Kuangyin suddenly turned and looked at Ling’er. He did not utter a single word, yet Ling’er unmistakably felt the chilling force within his gaze. That was simply the kind of man he was. His ability to intimidate others had never depended upon rank or power. Without moving or speaking, he could often subdue people invisibly. Ling’er closed her mouth beneath the pressure.
Yunjie’s disappointment deepened, yet she still made no attempt to defend herself. She looked at him. “Yes. I cannot prove that my purpose in coming here was innocent. Since that is so, Ling’er can drive the carriage. We will return by ourselves. There is no need to trouble Lord Zhao.”
Zhao Kuangyin suddenly laughed. His voice was low. “Yunjie, you really haven’t changed. Fine. I believe you. Let’s return first. We can talk on the road.”
Zhao Kuangyin was actually willing to drive the carriage for her. Following behind them the entire way, Zhao Guangyi thought that even if their relationship could not be called intimate, this woman was clearly different from other people to him.
Inside the carriage, Yunjie said helplessly, “As for last time, believe me or not as you please. I truly did not know what Father was planning. He only instructed me to ask you to accompany me to Zhongmiao Temple at Chaohu to pray for Mother’s safety. You know Mother has been ill for a very long time… I would never make light of something like that.”
Without turning around, Zhao Kuangyin replied, “I already said I believe you.”
Ling’er, still angry on her mistress’s behalf, secretly glared at his back and made faces.
“Are you really going back just like this? I don’t know what Father may still be planning. He left the residence early this morning.”
“I traveled through the night precisely because I was afraid there would be no way to explain myself before His Majesty. I have already been absent without authorization for far too long. No matter what, I must return to Kaifeng. Besides, do you truly think Zhao Kuangyin is afraid of your father?”
Those words undoubtedly placed Yunjie in an awkward position, yet Zhao Kuangyin did not seem to think anything was wrong with them. She wanted to say something but swallowed it all and looked out the window instead. Forget it. Whatever Zhao Kuangyin had decided to do, he would do. He followed his own path, and that path would never change because of anyone else.
Zhao Kuangyin and the others hurried swiftly toward Kaifeng.
Dust swirled around the wooden bracelet on Guangyi’s wrist. At that very moment, a thousand li away, its identical counterpart rested upon the body of another man of astonishing brilliance, grieving in silence.
Even though the man wrapped in the memory of night rain still wore an expression as serene as wind beneath a clear moon.
Li Congjia’s injuries had mostly healed. Holding an old book, he stood in the courtyard watching servants sort belongings into chests. Everyone in court and beyond already knew. Once the imperial edict came down, he would probably move into the Eastern Palace immediately.
The people of the residence had begun preparing in advance according to precedent. Since the matter was already a foregone conclusion, Li Congjia was destined to cease being the Duke of Anding. Everything had to be readied early.
There were countless objects inside and outside the residence. He had never wanted any of this, but there was nothing he could do, so he let them organize things while he read beneath the veranda. He could not be bothered looking through the scattered pearls and jade, and waved for Liuzhu to take them away and distribute them among the others. Some things that had been sealed away for years had accumulated thick layers of dust. For a moment, Li Congjia suddenly thought of Resounding Spring, the guqin he had destroyed. If it were still here, perhaps he would only deliberately avoid it along with all these other things until, little by little, it too became a funerary object buried beneath the passing years.
Fortunately, it was broken. Shattered. At least it could never wither and lose its branches.
Li Congjia continued smiling into the spring wind.
Piaopeng suddenly came hurrying out while cradling something. “Duke of Anding… this…”
Li Congjia’s gaze remained on the lines of his book, and impatience flickered across his face. He was just about to wave Piaopeng away when the corner of his eye caught the object’s dark, weighty color. His heart lurched.
It was the red-sandalwood box Li Hongji had once wanted to give him.
Li Congjia reached out and accepted it once more.
The wind rose. The man in blue-green was overwhelmed by emotion, yet in the end he only smiled. The flowering tree of fate had flourished and declined so many times. None of us could escape what awaited us.
He gently shook the box in his hand. It was still nothing more than a simple, openhearted intention beneath clear wind and bright moon.
An intention you once had too.
Li Congjia moved his fingers and opened it. The sunlight was perfect. Light passed through the openwork carving and cast its pattern onto the ground.
His double-pupiled eyes abruptly darkened, and his fingertips trembled, nearly losing their composure.
It…