Chapter 70: Dream (BE if-line)
When Fang Jian awoke, her head was muddled and she felt utterly exhausted. She propped herself up on her elbows to sit, and an attendant at her side hurried to support her. Her feet touched the floor, and her detached consciousness took a long while to return to her body. The attendants were already helping her dress. She asked, "Where is Xiuzhu?"
The young attendant froze for a moment, then said softly, "The Head Steward passed away two years ago."
"Oh… right…" Fang Jian looked at her own scattered, white hair and became a little more lucid. She was an old woman of over eighty, and Xiuzhu had already passed away.
She washed her face, tied up her somewhat thinning hair, and donned her precious purple official robes. Holding her tablet, she walked out of the bedroom. A carriage was already waiting in the outer courtyard. She couldn't help but sigh; she was truly old. In her youth, she never took a carriage to court. Horses couldn't pick up speed within the inner city, but when she sat on horseback, the wind would blow past, puffing up the sleeves of her official robes—a feeling of great freedom. In which year had she stopped riding?
She pondered this as she boarded the carriage. The ride was slightly bumpy, and before she knew it, she had fallen asleep. She had grown more muddled lately, sleeping little at night but dozing off from time to time during the day. She often dreamed of her youth, a time when she was high-spirited, walking like a gust of wind, believing nothing in the world could stop her. In the blink of an eye, she had reached this age of staggering steps.
The carriage stopped. An attendant woke her. She came to with a start and, with the attendant's help, slowly disembarked. Following her daily habit, she straightened her robes and leather belt, adjusted her black gauze hat, and cradled the tablet in her arms before walking toward her position. The officials along the way all bowed to her, and she returned their greetings amiably. There were few in the court older or higher in rank than she. Looking at the faces in scarlet and green robes, she found them all to be incredibly youthful.
The court session was long. She was used to standing, so she didn't feel physically tired, but she felt particularly weary today. The voices speaking seemed extremely distant, and she couldn't be bothered to distinguish them, simply staring into space while holding her tablet. She stood at the very front, with no one before her. Further ahead was Her Majesty's throne.
She had served three monarchs, from Wei Qi to Wei Xi to the current Wei Jin. The face on the throne had changed again and again, and her own position had moved from within the crowd, step by step, to this place second only to one. She had nearly climbed to the highest point. Many years ago, she had been bent on ascending, her ambitious gaze fixed on the positions above, and for that, her eyes had been blinded. But now that she truly stood here, she only felt a desolate cold. She had once wanted to reach the heights to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with someone, but by the time she stood there, she found she could no longer find that person's figure. It was truly so cold.
The young emperor on the throne had been ruling in her own right for several years now, and her every move was quite dignified. Fang Jian quietly raised her eyes to look at her. That was her student. Childless and all alone, from the moment the late emperor entrusted the heir apparent to her, she had poured all her affection onto that young girl. First the crown princess, then Her Majesty. She had taught her almost everything she knew, holding nothing back. Just as someone had once taught her.
After court was dismissed, Fang Jian requested an audience with the monarch. She had just entered the main hall of Yong'an Palace when the emperor, Wei Jin, came out to greet her.
"Teacher, what brings you here?"
Fang Jian performed a solemn bow and offered her greetings, then knelt on the floor. She took a memorial from her sleeve and raised it above her head. "Your Majesty, this subject is old, and my energy has been failing me of late. I implore Your Majesty to permit this subject official retirement to return to my hometown."
Wei Jin's limbs stiffened. She was still young and instinctively relied on her elder. She helped her up while trying to persuade her, "Teacher, why do you say such things? You are still…" But looking at the white hair at the old woman's temples, she found herself unable to finish the sentence.
"Your Majesty has grown up," Fang Jian said, putting down the memorial. She looked up at Wei Jin and spoke gently, "You should be an eagle soaring through the heavens. How can you remain long under another's wing?"
Wei Jin stammered, unable to speak, her expression forlorn.
They talked for a long time that day. Fang Jian was happy in a way she hadn't been for ages. She had watched this girl grow day by day, from a small child with tufted hair to the jade-like sovereign of today. She had a presumptuous thought: she could now understand a little of how that person had felt back then when praising her as a youth of exceptional promise.
As she walked out of Yong'an Palace, she paused to look back one last time. She remembered that year when Wei Qi, having some leisure time, had summoned her to the palace for a game of chess.
It was a rest day and not official business, so she had gone dressed in plain clothes. As she entered the hall, she was against the light, and her figure was indistinct. Wei Qi's eyesight had grown poor with age, and when she looked up at the visitor, she couldn't help but call out, "Minister Gao…"
Fang Jian froze in her tracks, lost in a daze. Wei Qi, seeing clearly that it was her, sighed, "Ah, it's Minister Fang… You are so much like your teacher. That year, when she returned after her mourning period, she also came to see me dressed in such an elegant, simple straight-robe…"
Fang Jian stood rooted to the spot, and suddenly, tears began to fall. They fell drop by drop, more and more, soaking the front of her robes, soaking her sleeves. She cried without a sound, yet was overcome with grief.
"Ah, why are you crying?" Wei Qi stood up and walked to her side, patting her back comfortingly. "You have now reached the age she was when she passed."
The pain was so great Fang Jian couldn't straighten her back, and she bent over, kneeling on the floor. Wei Qi waved her hand, dismissing the palace attendants serving in the hall. Just as Gao Yunqu had once done, she stroked the back of Fang Jian's neatly tied-up hair and consoled her, "Do you miss her too? Then cry for a while. I will keep you company."
That year, Fang Jian was thirty-five. And Gao Yunqu's life had also stopped forever at thirty-five.
In the sixteenth year of the Yongxing era, after the terrible news arrived from Chuzhou, Fang Jian was so grieved she wished for death. She requested sick leave and shut herself away. She was somewhat afraid of Gao Yunqu's disappointed gaze, but she had never imagined that Gao Yunqu would leave and never return. Dai Yao made a trip to Chuzhou and ultimately brought back only Gao Yunqu's body. The Gao residence hung up funeral banners. Fang Jian didn't dare to go, didn't dare to listen, as if by refusing to see reality, that person would still be there. It wasn't until Dai Yao stormed her residence—Xiuzhu failed to stop her, and she charged all the way to Fang Jian's bedroom door. Fang Jian still refused to come out. Enraged, Dai Yao snatched a subordinate's sword, kicked open the door, and rushed in.
Fang Jian, reeking of alcohol, was slumped against the side of her couch, unresponsive. Dai Yao placed the sword against her neck, but she neither dodged nor flinched.
"Get up," Dai Yao said coldly.
Fang Jian acted as if she hadn't heard.
Dai Yao gritted her teeth and shouted, "Don't you want to hear what words Gao Yunqu left for you?"
Hearing Gao Yunqu's name, Fang Jian finally showed a flicker of reaction, her gaze gradually focusing on Dai Yao.
"She had no children. Her posthumous affairs are to be managed by you, in your capacity as her direct disciple. The Gao family's fields and forests in Xilin County are all to go to the clan. The residence and shops in the capital are all to go to you, Fang Jian. You are the heir she personally chose, and she asked me to be the witness before she left." Dai Yao enunciated every word, and each one entered Fang Jian's ears with perfect clarity, but she didn't want to hear a single one. She covered her ears and curled up helplessly.
"How long will you keep deceiving yourself? How long will you make your teacher lie there waiting for you?" Dai Yao said angrily. "I know she was a mountain of grace to you, and you cannot accept it right now, but the most urgent matter is to lay her to rest in peace. If you don't go, who will manage her affairs? Will you not even let her rest peacefully in death?"
In the end, Fang Jian went out. She was propped up, changed into mourning clothes, and led to her proper place. Like a puppet, she thanked the guests; like a walking corpse, she conducted the rites.
It turned out that at the extremity of pain, there is no sensation.
Every day thereafter, Fang Jian felt lost for not a single moment. Before seventeen, her efforts were for her family. After seventeen, everything she did was to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Gao Yunqu. But she had lost Gao Yunqu forever, and she no longer knew where to go.
Lu Songnian had said she was born to wield power, that sooner or later she would become the same kind of person as him. At the time, she had scoffed at the idea. Becoming that kind of person would disappoint Gao Yunqu. She had only wanted to give Gao Yunqu a dose of strong medicine, but had never thought of truly parting ways with her. She had thought, Gao Yunqu would surely be furious when she heard the news. At worst, she would just let her give her another beating, and then beg her again…
But… but…
Had she thought too highly of herself? Was heaven punishing her for her cleverness? If she hadn't done that, would Gao Yunqu not have left the capital in such a hurry? Would she not have…
She couldn't think about it. The moment she thought of that person, a devastating despair would surge up, like being trapped in mire, unable to move, the sludge slowly submerging past her mouth and nose. Unable to breathe, unable to call for help, she could only watch herself sink, the entire world pressing in on her, until she finally fell into boundless silence.
But Fang Jian had to live. She had to finish the work Gao Yunqu had left undone; she did not yet have the right to die. She threw herself almost entirely into official duties, one matter after another. The things Gao Yunqu had been doing, the things she had yet to do, the peaceful and prosperous realm Gao Yunqu had wished to see—Fang Jian would risk her life to help her realize them, piece by piece.
She truly became Wei Qi's blade. She was sharper, more frenzied, and more ruthless than Gao Yunqu. By the time she wore the scarlet robe and became a high official, her reputation in court was quite infamous. When she once again brought down a political enemy, the official, restrained by the guards, struggled and cursed her furiously, "Fang Jian! You sycophantic knave! You think you're worthy of wearing this scarlet robe? Greedy, cruel, and vicious, you frame the loyal and good! You will die without a burial place!"
Those around her paled, but Fang Jian, her hands tucked in her sleeves, remained unmoved.
A burial place? Unnecessary. Her sins were heavy. The best outcome would be to be burned to ash and scattered entirely before Gao Yunqu's grave, so that she might once again stay by that person's side.
Day after day, year after year, Fang Jian climbed higher and higher. She plowed through Chuzhou, and then Yingzhou, Quzhou, Chengzhou… The Avoidance Law, the Merit Evaluation System, building roads, reforming laws, cadastral surveys…
Perhaps it was heaven's punishment, but she lived, free of illness and disaster, into her seventies, outliving Wei Qi, outliving Wei Xi, outliving the friends of her youth. Even she found it ironic. But it didn't matter. She shouldered the ideal of a thousand li of clear winds for everyone. If your souls can return, please come and see this age of peace and prosperity.
When she left the palace after submitting her memorial of retirement, it was late spring. As she walked, the wind brushed against her cheeks. Five or six youths and six or seven boys passed her by, dressed in simple, light spring clothes. The gentle wind lifted the flowing ribbons on their garments, and their clear songs and laughter rode the wind, drifting far, far away.
With a smile on her face, she did not take the carriage, but walked slowly all the way home. When she grew tired, she would stop for a rest and look around, then continue on her way once she had recovered. She walked through the bustling markets of the capital and through its quiet, deep alleys. She staggered through more than sixty years of time.
She still lived in the old Gao residence. Everything was maintained just as it had been in the Gao family's time. She stood before the main gate for a while, then walked in. She passed through the front hall and the covered corridors. This was a path she had walked countless times. Her steps were unusually light, as if someone was still waiting for her at the end of the path. But there was no one. The study was silent. Light slanted in through the window, and fine dust motes danced in the sunbeams. She directed the attendants to bring a lounge chair and place it in the courtyard outside the study, then had everyone withdraw. She lay down. Above her, the tall trees stood elegant, their canopies like awnings. She narrowed her eyes, listening to the rustling sound of the wind brushing through the treetops.
This was the place she knew best. She had now read every volume in the study's collection. Even in the dark, she could find the position of every object. Here, she had listened to the changing of the four seasons and the shifting of the stars for decades, but she missed that green, soaring version of herself beyond compare.
Back then, she still had Gao Yunqu. Gao Yunqu was her firm support, the high mountain she looked up to. She had been eager and restless, longing for the day she would ascend to the summit and gaze upon all the mountains below.
The courtyard was extremely quiet, with only the occasional chirp of a bird. Fang Jian could almost hear the sound of her own voice reciting texts, and the sound of Gao Yunqu's gentle voice instructing her.
In truth, Gao Yunqu wasn't that patient. To her, these studies were exceedingly simple, and it was extremely difficult for Fang Jian to keep up at first. Gao Yunqu never scolded her for being dull, but the smile at the corners of her mouth, not quite a smile, not quite a sneer, was enough to make Fang Jian's scalp tighten and drive her to study with all her might. The rare hint of gratification she showed, that the child was teachable, was so beautiful that Fang Jian would spend a lifetime committing it to memory.
Lord, but I think I'm starting to forget what you look like.
On a warm spring day of growing grass and flying orioles, Fang Jian lay in the courtyard. The warm spring sun fell upon her. A tear traced a path from the corner of her eye, seeping into her thin, mottled hair.
Lord, I was wrong.
Lord, can you come and take me away now?
Author's Notes
This is the BE line mentioned in Chapter 21. Is it hitting you hard?
It's just a dream, it's not over, don't worry it's a HE.
The allusions in this chapter are all from required reading in middle and high school, so I won't annotate them. Classical literature is truly so romantic.
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