Right or wrong could no longer be clearly distinguished. The Qi Emperor and the Eastern Palace had repaid their debt to the An family, ending the family’s centuries-old responsibility. I was willing to share the guilt that An Jin bore.
But why hasn’t my husband appeared?
Chapter Sixty-Five: Youth in the Snow
Not long ago, Miao Yin gave birth to my elder brother’s daughter, my little niece. Although the process was difficult, mother and daughter were ultimately safe. The little girl, who resembled both my brother and Miao Yin, was cherished by our entire family. Mother, besides her joy, lamented that she had originally expected to hold my child first.
I felt melancholic inside but maintained a light exterior.
Since the news of Xia Zhichun’s ascension spread, I anticipated An Jin’s arrival. However, over a month after Xia Zhichun took the throne, An Jin had not appeared. I was anxious and began to imagine whether he had been harmed by Yan Or or met with some mishap…
Perhaps noticing my heavy heart, Jiang Yunqiao enigmatically said after a court session that she would take me somewhere to dispel my melancholy.
I wondered what miraculous place she meant, only to find it was a tavern built on a stone bridge spanning a river, where the sound of rushing water created a unique atmosphere. According to Yunqiao, the tavern signified “sorrows flow away like water, never to return,” helping people forget their troubles through drinking.
They say one can forget a thousand sorrows with a drink. I’ve never loved alcohol or its spicy stimulation, but the wine here was different—fragrant yet smooth, without bitterness, like drinking flower nectar. Curious, I drank several cups, not realizing the gentle wine had a strong effect, and I soon felt dizzy.
She did not pay attention to my words, pushing open the window with a dazed look, as if immersed in a memory. The cold wind carrying river mist rushed in, making me shiver.
Yun Qiao leaned out the window, half her body exposed, her hair disheveled, yet wearing a gentle smile. Worried she might fall, I quickly grabbed her. She stubbornly pointed ahead and said, “I want to find him!”
“Alright, go find him,” I finally believed she was truly drunk and tried to soothe her like a child. She looked at me blankly, then said melancholically, “No, I can’t do this.”
I have A’fu and my consort husband. I can’t abandon them.”
I felt melancholic as the cold wind chilled me, and I had to prevent her from falling into the river. Was I here to comfort her or create trouble for myself?
She took my hand and looked at me earnestly, “We are both wanderers. A’yao, you must understand my pain.”
I was stunned. I didn’t quite understand…
“Father the Emperor wants to arrange a marriage between you and General Shen. He asked me to persuade you privately. I know you love Official An and dislike General Shen. However, marrying him would be beneficial for your future ascension to Crown Prince.”
I was confused. I knew Emperor Hong wanted to match me with Shen Dan’ding, but I hadn’t realized his considerations were like this. I was grateful but would never accept.
Yun Qiao sighed deeply. “Loving one yet having to marry another. Are the sisters of the Jiang family destined to bear such a fate?”
She was indeed drunk… If this continued, she might start composing poetry…
She finally fell silent, returning to the table to embrace the wine jar, drinking the last drop, then collapsed onto the table.
I called for sobering tea, had her drink plenty, and sent her home with the waiting guards. Consort E calmly carried her to her room, clearly having done this before.
The consequence of this farce was—I caught a cold.
The thoroughly drunk Jiang Yun Qiao was lively while I, who had only drunk a few cups, had fallen ill. I was sick and delirious, feeling alternating heat and cold, dizzy and aching all over. When Jiang Yun Qiao visited me, I was curled up in bed. She felt guilty for bringing me to drink and regretted her drunkenness. However, she claimed to have no memory of that night, appearing completely innocent.
I weakly murmured, “It was nothing. Just about snow, about a youth.”
Jiang Yun Qiao’s expression changed dramatically.
Then, I heard a story.
When Jiang Yun Qiao was fourteen, she encountered an ethereally beautiful youth during a vast snowfall in Qi Kingdom. This fleeting glimpse captured her heart, but she could find no trace of his identity and eventually had to give up.
She told herself he was a divine being who had returned to heaven, burying her longing deep in her heart.
At sixteen, following Emperor Hong’s wishes, she married the eldest son of the E Tai Zai family. Her husband was kind, and she tried to love him, but her feelings never progressed beyond mere fondness. Her love remained with the youth she met in the snow.
Life continued. At eighteen, A’fu was born. She was content and gradually accustomed to this happiness, casting aside unrealistic expectations. However, she unexpectedly reunited with that ethereal youth.
Now married with a child, and knowing the youth was not from Nan Rui Kingdom, they could never be together. Her infatuation was unknown to him. Though her heart was unsettled, she remained outwardly calm, occasionally visiting him, satisfied just to see he was well.
Everything was fine until unrest in Qi Kingdom disrupted his life, unsettling her again. In her conflicting pain, she chose to drink to numb herself.
So this was Jiang Yun Qiao’s secret. Perhaps the person she loved was just a beautiful image she had created. What young girl hasn’t had romantic fantasies?
But she was too obsessed, letting her youthful longing become a lock on her heart. Resolving it wasn’t difficult—finding the youth might make her realize she didn’t love him as much as she thought.
However, the youth was in Qi Kingdom. Would they kidnap him to Nan Rui just to heal her heartache? This seemed unrealistic. Unable to think of a better solution, I advised her to focus more on her consort husband and A’fu, to enjoy family happiness and let time wash everything away.
Jiang Yunqiao’s story made me miss An Jin even more. My cold symptoms were worsening, showing no signs of improvement. Hongdi was worried and invited many physicians, but to no avail. Rumors began to spread in Fengzhu City, claiming that the Yu King’s illness was caused by lovesickness, with one absurd version alleging I was secretly in love with General Shen, who loved someone else, and that I had begged His Majesty for marriage but failed, thus falling ill.
I wanted to cry but had no tears. Although the physicians were helpless, they ominously mentioned that a minor cold could develop into a serious illness if prolonged. Hongdi was extremely worried and issued an edict seeking folk doctors.
Whoever could cure the Yu King’s illness would be handsomely rewarded. I found this somewhat exaggerated. I rarely fell ill, and it hardly seemed significant, but with such a reward, I felt like a frail princess in a play. In such stories, a handsome doctor typically cures the princess’s serious illness and falls in love with her.
As it turned out, someone did exactly that, claiming the imperial edict and requesting to marry the princess, which Hongdi agreed to.
Chapter Sixty-Six: Another Wave
When I heard this news, I almost jumped from my sickbed. According to information from my younger sister, the doctor was quite handsome, though his left hand was somewhat inconvenient. He met privately with Emperor Hongdi for a long time, and after their conversation, the emperor agreed to his conditions.
My imperial uncle was good in many ways but had a penchant for matchmaking. After trying to match me with General Shen, he now agreed to a doctor wanting to marry me. How eager he was to resolve my marital status! Breaking into a cold sweat slightly improved my cold symptoms.
