When did his world begin to be plagued by incessant rain and gloom?
Luo Yuan couldn't recall.
Black mold had begun to spread wantonly in his cold, damp world. At first, it had only grown in unnoticed corners, but now it had crept over walls, doorways, and window frames, threatening to engulf the sky.
And that woman, far away, stood where the mold grew rampant. She was drenched, trembling, and looked at him in silence.
He wanted to wipe the rainwater from her face, to hold a paper umbrella over her, to shield her from the biting cold. But with every step he took closer, she took one back, always maintaining a distance of ten Zhang between them.
She stood there, silent, in his world of torrential rain, watching him, clad in his magnificent imperial robes and crowned with the coiled cloud coronet, ascend the golden dragon throne in the center of the grand hall to receive the homage of his ministers. She watched him walk alone through the imperial gardens on his wedding night, heading towards the Empress's sleeping chambers. She watched him hasten to Consort Hui's Huining Palace to visit his first-born prince, newly arrived in the world. She stood within his world, silently witnessing every moment of his life.
Initially, he had been furious. He had shouted at her, "Yes, I have taken several more consorts. If you're unhappy, come and curse me, hit me! Why? Why do you just stand there, refusing to come closer?! Don't you know how much it pains me to see you like this? Why, why can't I do anything for you?! Ruo Ning, tell me, what am I to do?"
But she had remained there, twenty feet away, speaking not a word, her face etched with sorrow.
"So be it," he murmured. "If you will not come, then I shall go to you."
The twenty-second year since her departure was Yong'an twenty years.
Though still in his middle years, the frost of white had long since tinged his temples, and his body was not as strong as it once was.
That morning, the Crown Prince had brought precious medicinal herbs, specifically instructing him to take them as soon as possible after breakfast. It was now the second year of the Crown Prince's regency. Though only sixteen, under his tutelage, the Crown Prince had proven to be capable. Now, the Crown Prince could independently handle the significant affairs of the court without him needing to intervene.
He thought that now, at last, he could go to see her.
Late in the summer of that year, he finally returned to the small cottage in the valley.
The cottage remained as it was when they had left. A gentle breeze from the valley drifted through the window, rustling the red wedding dress hanging from the wardrobe, causing the gems on the dress to lightly clink, emitting a delicate and crisp sound.
In front of the cottage, on a patch of green, stood a small cenotaph surrounded by flowers. The pine tree planted before it had now grown to the thickness of a bowl.
"Tomb of my wife, Lady Yang Ruo Ning," the young Crown Prince, dressed in black imperial robes, read standing before the tombstone. His mother had told him that the Emperor's most beloved woman was buried here.
He had always been curious about what kind of woman she was, how she could have captured the Emperor's unyielding heart for a lifetime. Yet his mother had warned him that she was a forbidden topic, one that could never be mentioned before the Emperor.
"Shu'er," a voice called to him from behind.
The Crown Prince turned and saw his father. "Father," he said.
"You never asked me about her story," Luo Yuan said, caressing the bluestone tombstone, his eyes filled with deep affection and longing. "She was my wife. You must be very curious about our story, mustn't you..."
"I first met her at the pier in Youzhou City one summer evening when I was seven years old..."
It was the first time the Crown Prince had heard his father speak of her. He was so immersed in his father's mournful voice that he became lost in thought.
"Shu'er, Shu'er," he heard his father calling him.
He quickly looked up at his father. "Yes, Father."
"The hunting horns are sounding down the mountain. They must have found something good. Go quickly and see."
"And Father?"
"I am tired. I am going inside to rest," Luo Yuan said, patting his shoulder. He turned and walked towards the small wooden cottage behind him.
The Crown Prince watched his father's receding back, seeing him enter the cottage.
A valley breeze carried a Ci poem his father was humming, 'Jiang Cheng Zi'.
For ten years, life and death have been a vast expanse, no need to ponder, yet never forgotten.
A thousand miles of lonely grave, nowhere to speak of desolation.
Even if we meet, we probably wouldn't recognize each other, face covered in dust, hair like frost.
Last night, a dream suddenly returned home, a small window, and she was dressing her hair.
We looked at each other in silence, only tears streaming down.
I expect the place where the heart breaks year after year is beneath the bright moon and the short tomb hill.
In Yong'an twenty-two years, a wooden house in the imperial hunting grounds caught fire, and the Emperor passed away.