A Single Tie Of Long Hair Seals A Lifelong Commitment - Chapter 22

The rallying horn sounded, and men and horses gathered.

As the wind stirred the tops of the forest, the Emperor took an arrow, drew his bow, and with a single shot, struck a fleeing sika deer. The crowd cheered to the beat of the drums. Hooves clattered. The animals in the hunting ground, startled by the commotion, pricked up their ears in alarm and fled for their lives.

Chen Liangyu’s arrows never missed, and she quickly took a commanding lead.

Suddenly remembering something, she pulled the reins to slow her horse, looked around, spotted a figure, and galloped to catch up.

Xie Wenjun was chasing a lone wild rabbit, but her arrow missed, and the rabbit fled in fright.

Chen Liangyu’s expression was grim.

“Princess, are you distracted? Do you have something on your mind?”

Xie Wenjun shook her head: “No.”

Chen Liangyu circled her, leaned down to inspect the horse, looked at its four limbs, and said: “This horse’s stamina is lacking. The stable master, fearing you might be injured, was careless. This horse is decent in size but not swift or agile enough. Red Mane is attached to you; let’s switch. Red Mane is more sure-footed.”

“What about you?”

“The amount of game I hunt has nothing to do with which horse I ride.”

Zhang Jialing was dressed flamboyantly today, in a gaudy riding outfit with a colorful feather stuck in his cap, and he galloped past them with a laugh.

A sentence drifted on the wind: “The top student has two pens, the poor student has a lot of stationery.” Stationery? Probably things like brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones, the four treasures of the study. Looking at his gear, there was no one on the hunting ground with more ‘stationery’ than him; even his boots were rimmed with silver inlays of tigers and leopards.

After his high-profile ridicule, he took an arrow from the quiver on his back, aimed at an eagle circling overhead, intending to show off a little.

Chen Liangyu was accustomed to his chattering and didn’t bother to respond. Seeing Xie Wenjun’s look of embarrassment and then the runaway mule that was Zhang Jialing, she frowned slightly: “Watch, I’ll teach you again.”

She used her momentum to leap, landing steadily on the opposite horse, and extended her arms to completely envelop Xie Wenjun. Her hand rested on the back of Xie Wenjun’s hand, gripping the bow and arrow, their bodies pressed intimately together.

Breaths and heartbeats were close to her ear, steady and powerful, just like the hand holding hers.

“Keep your elbow level, your eyes straight ahead, and focus on the prey. Don’t get distracted!”

The two eagles soared and swooped, playfully entwined, completely unaware that two chilling, cold arrows were aimed at their bellies from the vast earth beneath their wings.

“The bow body, the string, and the arrowhead must form a single line. Aim true!”

As they lowered themselves again, “Swoosh—”

The arrow had already left the string there, and immediately after, another “swoosh” was heard: Zhang Jialing’s arrow snapped in two, as expected.

The arrow that came from behind cut sharply through the air, piercing both eagles. Before they could flap their wings, the eagles fell in a chain, dropping right in front of Zhang Jialing’s horse.

Zhang Jialing stretched his neck to look, saw the white peacock feather decorating the arrow’s tail—the marker for Princess Jiangning’s arrows—then turned to look at the person holding the bow, and yelled: “Chen Liangyu, you cheated!”

“My student is not yet skilled; as her teacher, offering a little guidance, how is that cheating?”

“You, you, you…” Zhang Jialing pointed his finger, stuttering ‘you’ for a long time, and then shouted in frustration: “What kind of teacher guides a student during an exam?”

Chen Liangyu’s expression did not change; she simply said: “I do.”

“I can’t be bothered with you!”

Zhang Jialing didn’t waste any more breath arguing and galloped off to chase other prey. He had made a bet with someone: the person who hunted the least game would have to pay for everyone’s tea for a month at the Yifeng Pavilion to listen to music and enjoy tea. That was a lot of silver. If he lost, his father’s collection of famous paintings, calligraphy, and jade artifacts would be short a few pieces. That would be terrible; his legs would be broken if he was found out.

Xie Wenjun rode forward, broke free from the embrace, dismounted, and pulled the white-feathered arrow from the eagles: “He’s right, this counts as cheating.”

Chen Liangyu didn’t stop her or say much, letting her do as she wished.

Xie Wenjun retrieved the arrow. Chen Liangyu tilted her head slightly and gave a look. Red Mane, sensing her intention, trotted over to Xie Wenjun’s side, affectionately rubbed against her clothes, and knelt.

She mounted the horse, looked at Chen Liangyu, and said apologetically: “My poor archery skills may bring you shame.”

“Ignore him. He has a foul mouth, talks nonsense, and is incomprehensible.” She was referring to Zhang Jialing. “There is no need for the Princess to excel at archery; learning the basics and enjoying yourself is enough. I am sufficient.”

“I am sufficient?” Xie Wenjun tilted her head and asked: “What do you mean by that?”

“It means that the Princess does not need to handle weapons; if the Princess encounters danger, your subject will be there.”

Her expression was faint, her tone flat, not sounding like a grand promise, but merely stating an ordinary, trivial matter.

Xie Wenjun’s face, which had been clouded for a while, finally showed signs of brightening, like a child who had eaten a sweet candied fruit, all sweetness and delight.

Chen Liangyu raised her eyelids, taking in the subtle change in her expression. She is indeed a little moody.

Protecting her a little, not letting anyone bully her. Could anyone truly bully her? Regardless of whether someone could or not, since she had nodded, it couldn’t be ‘a little,’ but ‘everything.’ If Xie Wenjun were to suffer any mishap in the future, even losing a single strand of hair, Chen Liangyu would have failed the Imperial Noble Consort’s trust.

She had always valued her promises.

But not right now.

She had more important things to do right now. By custom, the Emperor would grant one request to the person who hunted the most game; any request that wasn’t too outrageous would be granted, considering it the prize and reward of the hunt.

She wanted to use this opportunity to ask Emperor Xuanyuan again to bestow a marriage upon her and Prince Shen.

So, after instructing her once more on archery techniques, she separated from Xie Wenjun to hunt.

The dark red sunset shone on the hunting ground, where green and yellow met, and hunters in their riding outfits returned one after another, laden with game.

The hall grew dim. Aunt Jinge lit two candles—not too bright, but enough to prevent total darkness when the sky fell completely black.

The Imperial Noble Consort had slept soundly all afternoon. As dusk approached, she softly murmured a few words in her dream.

“Father, Mother…”

She was peaceful for a moment in her sleep, then suddenly gripped Aunt Jinge’s hand tightly and urgently, saying: “Mother, send me away…”

Aunt Jinge checked the temperature of the hand warmer, wrapped the Imperial Noble Consort’s hand in her palms, her nose stinging, and asked with sorrow: “Your Ladyship, where do you wish to go?”

“Send me… to marry in peace…”

The sound of the death announcement pierced the wide wilderness, the rolling hills, and the dark woods.

“The Imperial Noble Consort has passed away!”

“The Imperial Noble Consort has passed away!”

…

When the funeral bell rang out, traveling over the mountains and reaching every corner of the hunting ground, the area was already lit by torches.

When Chen Liangyu arrived, dusty and having ridden at a furious speed, the palace where the Imperial Noble Consort had been resting was already in chaos. Ying Rui was on high alert, wishing she had eyes in the back of her head and ears on all sides.

“Ying Rui, have you seen Princess Jiangning?”

Ying Rui replied honestly: “The Princess came after you left at noon, but I haven’t seen her since.”

Chen Liangyu grabbed a torch and searched everywhere. Amidst the increasingly rapid whistles, Red Mane neighed and rushed from a certain spot. Seeing Chen Liangyu, it anxiously turned in a circle and then bolted toward the darkness behind it.

Chen Liangyu followed Red Mane and finally found Xie Wenjun.

She was sitting amidst a pile of stones, staring blankly into the void, her eyes empty, looking like a weary scholar taking a break from memorizing texts.

Chen Liangyu softly called out, “Princess…”

She must have heard it. The funeral bell had just rung its last note, and the echo seemed to still be vibrating.

In her urgency, Chen Liangyu had only wanted to find her, but now that she had, she had no idea what to say or do next. She found even comforting someone to be difficult. At this moment, anything said or done would be too weak.

“Imperial Mother is gone? That’s fine.” Her voice was threadbare, and the light in her pupils slowly focused on Chen Liangyu. “A-Li, I don’t have a mother anymore.”

She did not burst into tears or even shed a single one; such composure was even more unsettling.

Chen Liangyu moved closer and realized that her slender limbs were all trembling slightly. This is what she did when she was afraid.

She said: “The Princess still has His Majesty, your father. And His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince.”

“He is the Emperor, not a father,” Xie Wenjun easily refuted her words. “My Imperial Brother, he wants… I am very scared.”

“The Crown Prince?” She carefully pondered what the Crown Prince was about to do, but she also knew that now was not the time to press for details; even if she asked, Princess Jiangning would not reveal any useful information.

Xie Wenjun didn’t give her a moment to think and asked: “I heard Imperial Mother saw you today. Did she say anything to you?”

“Her Ladyship said to me to protect you and not let anyone bully you.”

Xie Wenjun turned her face away, not looking at her, and resumed her blank state. After a long while, she asked in a trembling voice: “Will you?”

“I will.”

A promise from a noble person is weightier than Mount Tai. She considered herself a person of upright conduct and valuable character, and would certainly not break her word.

She sensed something tugging at her sleeve.

She looked down to see Xie Wenjun pulling on her cuff, burying her face in the fabric, and quietly, tearfully beginning to sob.

The air turned cold quickly after the sun went down; the breath she exhaled could still form a thin mist.

A teardrop fell onto her palm. It was warm, but instantly turned ice-cold.

She took out her handkerchief to wipe her tears. Xie Wenjun, seemingly overcome by grief and sorrow, rushed forward to hug her waist and began to cry loudly in her arms.

Her riding outfit was a close-fitting one-piece; she had no extra clothing to drape over the Princess to ward off the cold. She could only pull off the red cloth cape from her back to shield her from the wind whipping up from the ground.

Two tears welled up in Chen Liangyu’s eyes and rolled into the dust, disappearing. What had she gone through at such a young age that she held herself back, daring not to cry naturally even in the face of the great sorrow of losing a loved one? That ineffable heartache caused the wariness and guardedness in Chen Liangyu’s heart to begin to crumble, like melting ice and snow.

“Don’t be afraid,” she said. “I’m still here.”

After she cried for a while and her emotions had slightly calmed down, Chen Liangyu accompanied her toward the place where the most torches were gathered.

People were bustling in and out there, preparing for the Imperial Noble Consort’s funeral rites.

The Emperor issued a decree, posthumously elevating the Imperial Noble Consort to Empress Huixian, and arranging her burial according to the Empress’s standards. That dignity and honor belonging to an Empress was finally conferred upon her after her death.

No one stood up to object this time. Who would waste their energy arguing about titles and honors with a person who was already dead?

The Spring Hunt’s remaining events were canceled due to Empress Huixian’s sudden passing. During the period of great mourning, marriage, weddings, and all forms of entertainment were forbidden among the populace.

The twenty-day Spring Hunt was hastily concluded on its second day.

In the midst of such a grand funeral ceremony, one person also died, unnoticed: Prince Ning, Xie Xun.

Compared to the great mourning ritual for Empress Huixian, with white banners hung across the entire domain, Prince Ning’s funeral was quiet and inconspicuous, with him hastily buried in a small, three-foot patch of land within the royal mausoleum. This was because Prince Ning was mentally unsound and had always been regarded as a shame to the royal bloodline. He had been kept outside the city, and younger officials were barely aware of the Prince’s existence.

With his death, the royal bloodline was cleansed of a stain.