Her twelve-year-old daughter, Xi Yaya, was another source of concern. The child, fond of Wang Ling, recently declared her intention to marry him, nearly causing Weilin to choke on her tea.
She began to consider finding a suitable husband of comparable age, realizing she must act quickly. Consequently, she relaxed her grip on court affairs, believing Wang Ling and Wei Fengzhi would prevent major issues. Years of toil had exhausted her, and the hardships of her youth were catching up. Sometimes, looking in the bronze mirror, she feared Xi Linxuan might not recognize her.
Recently, a palace attendant styling her hair appeared panicked, and upon inquiry, Weilin discovered she had grown several white hairs.
“Shuimu, I’ve grown white hair and aged a decade. Will you recognize me?” Weilin murmured while touching the wax figure. “If you don’t recognize me, I’ll walk away, leaving you foolishly waiting…”
“This child pays respects to the empress dowager,” a sudden voice startled Weilin, causing the wax figure to fall on her knee. “Oh, what is this? Let me see.”
Xi Qi took the figure, examining it carefully before returning it. “This figure resembles father’s portrait in the divine palace.”
“It is your father,” Weilin replied.
“Does mother always miss father?” Xi Qi sat beside her.
Weilin remained silent, studying the wax figure. For ten years, she had carved a line on her bed post daily, believing it gave her hope.
During these ten years, when frustrated and exhausted, she relied on thoughts of Xi Linxuan to survive until dawn.
At night, the Blessing Dance was held in front of the Taiji Hall. Wei Linxia, dressed in formal court attire, walked over with her entourage. Just after sitting down, she saw Xi Yaya rush over and cling to her side. “Mother, can you help me arrange a marriage?”
“Which young master have you set your eyes on?” Wei Linxia asked.
“Wang Ling, of course! Which young master could be better than Wang Ling?” Xi Yaya replied confidently.
Wei Linxia shook her head. “I’ve told you, no. The Right Minister is three years older than your father, old enough to be your father.”
“I don’t care. So what if he’s older? He’s still better than those immature, good-for-nothing young masters,” Xi Yaya insisted, shaking Wei Linxia’s arm.
