Chapter 111

Outside Ledu city, the Sumu River was bustling and noisy, crowded with people releasing river lanterns. Beneath the bright starry sky, the lights glittered brilliantly, and a full moon was reflected in the water, like the Milky Way cascading down upon the land, adorning the Sumu River with breathtaking beauty.

Zhao Ling had shed his official robes and changed into a plain sapphire-blue robe of Hangzhou silk. There was no trace left of the solemnity he had shown that morning when he led the people of Niando to pay homage to the gods. A smile played at the corners of his mouth as he gazed at Fu Tingjun, who was dressed in a lotus-pink gauze blouse and a bright blue gauze skirt. His brows were filled with delight. "What wish did you quietly make to the river lantern just now?"

"Since it was a quiet wish, how could I casually tell you?" Fu Tingjun pursed her lips and smiled, her expression clever and carefree. Her dark hair was coiled into a bun, adorned with two strands of golden osmanthus flowers, and with every movement, a subtle fragrance drifted through the air, drawing the sidelong glances of passersby.

Zhao Ling watched her, a faint sense of pride rising in his heart.

Such a brilliant, beautiful, lively woman was actually his betrothed.

They would have children together, carry on the family line, and grow old together.

"I know," he couldn't help but tease, "you must have prayed to the Bodhisattva to find a perfect husband..."

"You're spouting nonsense again." Fu Tingjun cut him off with a playful scold. "I prayed to the Bodhisattva to keep you safe and smooth, to grant you all your wishes, and to let you return to Jiangnan soon to restore your parents' graves..." As she finished speaking, a hint of melancholy crept into her expression.

Zhao Ling felt utterly content in that moment. All the suffering he had endured before seemed to be compensated now, and his heart was filled with tender affection. He didn't want Fu Tingjun to feel even a moment of sadness.

"Really?" he teased, trying to cheer her up. "Didn't you pray to the Bodhisattva that we could go smoothly to the capital next spring..."

Fu Tingjun's face instantly turned crimson.

She had indeed prayed for that.

Not only that, she had also prayed to the Bodhisattva that they would marry smoothly.

Meeting Zhao Ling's eyes, which held a hint of playful mockery, she felt both shy and embarrassed. "I'm not talking to you anymore!" She turned and plunged into the crowd.

Zhao Ling was momentarily stunned, then quickly understood, and a joyful feeling of "your heart is like mine" rose within him. He didn't care about anything else and hurriedly chased after her.

By the river, there were many stalls selling snacks, lanterns, calligraphy and paintings, folding fans, hairpins, bracelets, earrings, porcelain wares, and pewter items. Fu Tingjun gradually slowed her steps and stopped beside a stall selling lanterns. She casually pointed at a rabbit lantern and asked, "Shopkeeper, how many wen is this?" But out of the corner of her eye, she glanced behind her. Amidst the coming and going crowd, she didn't see Zhao Ling.

Had he not followed her?

A sudden wave of sorrow filled Fu Tingyun’s heart, overwhelmed by a sharp sting of grievance.

This scoundrel—he could do whatever he pleased, but when she teased him back, he got angry... But then, Zhao Ling's voice suddenly came from beside her: "Shopkeeper, we'll buy this lantern."

She felt a joyful surprise, as if she had recovered something lost. She quickly turned to follow the sound, only to fall into a pair of eyes brighter than the stars in the night sky.

Fu Tingjun gazed at him without blinking, her heart softening immensely... She watched in a daze as he took out his money pouch to pay, watched in a daze as he took the lantern from the shopkeeper's hands, watched in a daze as he pressed the lantern into her hands, and watched in a daze as he took her hand.

"Let's go!" Zhao Ling said with a smile in his eyes, pulling her out of the bustling crowd.

Only then did Fu Tingjun snap back to reality.

Embarrassed, she shook off Zhao Ling's hand. "I, I want to go release river lanterns."

"Alright!" Zhao Ling smiled and let go of her hand, his expression full of indulgence and affection.

The rabbit lantern had originally been hanging on a tree... Fu Tingjun couldn't help but blush.

Someone nearby was hawking: "Cuo yu'er! Fragrant and refreshing cuo yu'er!"

Fu Tingjun's heart relaxed, as if she had found a way to save face. She immediately walked over. "I, I'm hungry!"

Zhao Ling still followed her gently.

"Alright!" He sat down beside her and called out to the stall owner with a smile, ordering two bowls of cuo yu'er.

Fu Tingjun turned her face away.

Everywhere was the clamor of crowds, everywhere were dots of river lanterns.

She couldn't help but glance at Zhao Ling.

Zhao Ling was looking at her.

The slight curve of his lips was like a faint trace of moonlight, making her heart inexplicably calm.

"We, let's never quarrel again, alright?" Fu Tingjun looked at Zhao Ling seriously.

But Zhao Ling slowly shook his head. "How could that be possible?"

Fu Tingjun's heart immediately sank to the bottom.

Zhao Ling replied slowly, "But don't worry, I'll yield to you."

Fu Tingjun's heart instantly bloomed like a flower.

She was secretly amazed at her own change... then burst out laughing.

"You scoundrel!" she muttered softly, secretly pinching Zhao Ling under the table.

Zhao Ling grimaced in pain but pretended not to dare make a sound.

This made Fu Tingjun quickly cover her mouth to stifle her laughter.

Zhao Ling felt utterly delighted, thinking that as long as he could make her happy, he would rather she pinch him a few more times.

The stall owner, who was over fifty, also laughed.

He was a villager from the nearby area, setting up a stall during the slack farming season to supplement his household income. He had chosen a spot that wasn't bustling or lively, so Fu Tingjun and Zhao Ling were his only customers. He didn't recognize Zhao Ling, but seeing his distinguished bearing, he took him for a wealthy young man from the town. As he set down the two large bowls of cuoyu'er (rubbed fish), he gave Zhao Ling a thumbs-up and praised, "Young man, impressive." It took my wife and me twenty years to understand that one should never argue with a woman. At your age, you already know this well. Good, good."

Zhao Ling decided to play along shamelessly, cupping his hands toward the old man and saying, "You flatter me, you flatter me."

Fu Tingjun, teased by him, wished she could crawl into a hole. Her face burned hot as she shot him a reproachful glare, then lowered her head to eat without daring to look up again.

The air was filled with a joyful atmosphere.

Fu Tingjun thought of how, during the Ullambana Festival in the past, she could only float a few homemade lotus lanterns in the shallow stream of the back garden with her sisters—how could she have ever gone out to enjoy herself like today? Suddenly, she felt an infinite longing for the future.

Someone called out urgently to Zhao Ling: "My lord, my lord!"

Zhao Ling looked up and saw Zhao Ming approaching in haste.

He furrowed his brows slightly. "What's happened?"

Zhao Ming was travel-worn, still holding a horsewhip in his hand.

He plopped down onto a stool and barked at the old man, "Give me a bowl!"

The old man, however, recognized Zhao Ming and immediately guessed Zhao Ling's identity. His expression changed, and he stammered out a series of fearful affirmatives, the joyful atmosphere from moments before vanishing completely.

Zhao Ling's brows furrowed again.

Ledu was three or four days' journey from Yongjing, yet he had made the round trip in under six days. Zhao Ming assumed Zhao Ling suspected he hadn't delivered Miss Tang to her destination, so he quickly said, "I parted ways with Miss Tang in Yongjing four days ago. Afterward, I heard something and hurried back."

What was it that had made Zhao Ling travel through the night?

Fu Tingjun looked up curiously.

The lamplight fell upon her flawless jade-like face, radiant and exquisite, causing Zhao Ming, who was about to speak, to falter mid-sentence, struck silent for a long moment.

Zhao Ling felt displeased and gave a soft cough.

Zhao Ming immediately lowered his head and murmured, "I heard from a merchant caravan coming from the capital that the Prince of Qin has passed away. Xi'an Prefecture is already draped in white mourning, and the imperial edict will reach our military commission in a matter of days."

The emperor's reign had been long, but his earlier sons had all failed to outlive their father. Even the Crown Prince had died of illness four years ago. Now, only the Ninth Prince, the Prince of Zhuang, and the Eleventh Prince, the Prince of Qin, remained alive. With the Prince of Qin now deceased, the emperor must be grief-stricken.

Zhao Ling quickly asked, "When did the Prince of Qin pass away? How many days has the emperor decreed for the suspension of marriages?" His voice was somewhat tense.

Zhao Ming, assuming he was merely concerned about state affairs, said, "He passed away on the twenty-second day of the fifth month. The emperor has decreed that marriages be suspended for sixty days."

Zhao Ling's expression relaxed slightly.

But Fu Tingjun lowered her head.

That fellow—he must be afraid the emperor would decree a full year's suspension of marriages, as he had when the Crown Prince passed away.

Zhao Ming sighed with emotion: "Ever since the Crown Prince's death, the Prince of Qin and the Prince of Zhuang have been contending for so many years. In the end, the Prince of Qin couldn't contend with fate and died of illness... The emperor should decree the Prince of Zhuang as Crown Prince, shouldn't he?" He then lowered his voice and asked Zhao Ling, "Lord Zhao, I've heard that our Marquis of Yingchuan and the Prince of Zhuang are brothers-in-law. Do you think our Marquis of Yingchuan might become the commander of the Central Military Prefecture or the commander of the Imperial Guard?"

"How would we know about such court matters?" Zhao Ling said with a smile, though his smile seemed somewhat distant. "But even when the Empress Dowager passed away, marriages were only suspended for twenty-seven days. Clearly, the emperor truly grieves for the Prince of Qin."

Zhao Ming was somewhat dismissive: "What use is grieving? The one still alive is the Prince of Zhuang!"

Zhao Ling said nothing.

The old man selling rubbed fish tremblingly placed a bowl with an even more generous portion than Zhao Ling's in front of Zhao Ming with great care.

...

The imperial edict didn't reach Nianbo Station until two days later. Perhaps because the emperor was far away, the common folk merely discussed it briefly before things settled down, and everyone went about their own business as usual. Only the yamen at Nianbo Station hung white cloth as a sign of mourning.

Fu Tingjun packed her things, preparing to return to Zhangye.

The wives of the hundred-household commanders and battalion chiefs all came to see her off, and the farewell gifts alone amounted to no less than a thousand taels of silver.

Fu Tingjun muttered under her breath, "No wonder people say three years as an honest prefect, a hundred thousand taels of silver. I'm never coming back to Nianbo Station again."

"Then I'll return to Zhangye," Zhao Ling said softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

These past few days, Zhao Ling had continued to lodge in the guardhouse, but only Fu Tingjun stayed in the rear hall of the yamen. The two women, being quite perceptive, had moved the cool couch into the courtyard and then shut themselves inside their rooms without coming out. Every evening, Fu Tingjun and Zhao Ling would sit in the courtyard to enjoy the cool air, chatting about everything from how her wet nurse had once scared her as a child by saying that swallowing watermelon seeds would make a watermelon grow in her belly, to debating whether Li Cheng's paintings were better than Xu Daoning's. The more they talked, the more they found themselves in agreement, and only then did they discover that neither of them liked mushrooms, that both had practiced calligraphy in the style of Lady Wei since childhood, that both their families had once treasured fan paintings by Ma Lin, and that the longevity locks they had received at their hundred-day celebrations were both made of gold inlaid with jade... Now that the time to part was drawing near, they both felt reluctant to say goodbye.

Zhao Ling escorted her ten li beyond the town before finally reining in his horse at Fu Tingjun's repeated urging. Only after her carriage had vanished from sight did he turn his horse and ride back to Niambo Station.

Fu Tingjun traveled for seven or eight days before returning to Zhangye.

She distributed the local gifts she had brought from Niambo Station to the Marquis of Yingchuan, Madam Wang, Madam Qi, and others. By then it was already late July, and she began preparing for the Mid-Autumn Festival gifts. Only after the tenth day of the eighth month did she truly settle down, making mooncakes at home, grinding rice flour, and getting ready to celebrate the Mid-Autumn Festival.

Madam Wang came to visit her.