Embedded Files
Psst! We're moving!
Ancient Era Extra 1 – Eternal Joy
________________________________________
[01·Qingchun Ze]
Qu You heard a faint “creak” from behind her.
The wind had pushed open the flower-patterned window. The room, previously filled with the scent of incense and wine, now carried the fresh breath of spring as if the season itself had blown in.
This elegant chamber lacked a terrace but featured an overhanging eave above the window, adorned with a golden bell and a simple wooden plaque.
Gao Yunyue rested her chin on her hand, gazing at the apricot blossoms that clung to the windowframe when Qu You entered. She poured herself a cup of plum wine and remarked, “The March spring intoxicates so deeply; I imagine the apricot blossoms in Zhantai Manor must bloom even more vibrantly than those outside the capital.”
Qu You sat by the window, not rushing to close it. Instead, she became lost in thought, staring at the swaying bell and the words “Qingchun Ze” carved into the wooden plaque. After a long pause, she asked softly, “Zhantai Manor?”
“Zhantai Manor hosts a grand banquet every spring, inviting newly graduated scholars. Several officials from the Office of State Affairs—Chancellor Gu, Governor Fu, Minister Luo, and my father—will attend. I’ve also heard that this year, the Crown Prince has sought His Majesty’s favor to join the gathering,” Gao Yunyue explained. “Isn’t tonight the famous Qionglin Night Banquet? Surely you’ve heard of it.”
She lifted the hem of her pale blue gown and glided closer, reaching out to tinker with the wind chime hanging from the eave. “When we left the city earlier, the sound of hooves we heard outside our carriage likely belonged to scholars parading through the streets with their mentors... ‘Swift are the hooves of success in spring.’ Today, Fanlou is packed with people. Many young ladies, I’m sure, hope to catch a glimpse of these scholars on their way to the banquet.”
Qu You showed little interest. “What’s the point? It’s far more enjoyable to rise early and pluck an apricot branch for oneself.”
Gao Yunyue sighed in exasperation. “To possess an apricot branch from Zhantai Manor—that would truly be prestigious.”
Qu You glanced at her teasingly. “What’s this? Does Yunyue wish to marry now? I heard that after rescuing his drowning cousin, the Crown Prince dissolved your engagement.”
“Thank heavens!” Gao Yunyue exclaimed dramatically. “When they first mentioned marrying me into the Crown Prince’s household, I cried for three days straight in my brother’s arms. Father even sent five matrons to teach me proper etiquette—it felt like my life was over. The Crown Prince may be exceedingly noble, but my temperament simply doesn’t suit the imperial family.” She flicked Qu You lightly with her embroidered handkerchief. “I only dare confess such things to you. Why do you laugh at me instead of worrying about yourself?”
Qu You shrugged indifferently. “Marriage is decided by parental decree and matchmakers. What good does my concern do?”
Curious, Gao Yunyue pressed further. “Don’t you wish to find a husband whose heart resonates with yours?”
“A heart that resonates...” Qu You repeated the phrase, smiling wryly. “Forget it. There are countless men in this world, yet few one can even meet once, let alone someone who understands deeply. Such connections are rare—they come by chance or not at all.”
As she spoke, faint murmurs of admiration rose from both upstairs and downstairs.
Gao Yunyue leaned out to investigate, pointing at the fluttering red ribbons tied to the imperial saddles. “It’s Chancellor Gu arriving with his students.”
Gu Zhiyan was revered as the foremost scholar of the land, praised within and beyond the court. Not only was he eloquent and erudite, but he was also a respected elder statesman of two dynasties.
Even at home, Qu You had often heard her father speak highly of him. He frequently visited their library to study ancient texts, his presence likened to a refreshing spring breeze.
“I’ve heard that Chancellor Gu rarely accepts disciples.”
“Indeed,” Gao Yunyue confirmed. “Every scholar acknowledges him as their teacher, but gaining his approval to perform the formal rites of discipleship is exceedingly rare—one every three to five years, perhaps. The last was Magistrate Qiao, recently celebrated for flood control in Jiangnan, and Minister Lin, who perished heroically in Ruozhou. And this one...”
Qu You noticed a slender figure trailing behind Gu Zhiyan. Dressed similarly to the other scholars in dark robes trimmed with red, he wore a white jade hairpin and a jade belt around his waist. Though mounted on horseback, his back remained perfectly straight, exuding grace and dignity akin to the tallest bamboo in the forest.
Before she could discern his features clearly, Gao Yunyue leaned in conspiratorially. “...This new disciple of Chancellor Gu is extraordinary—a man unparalleled since the founding of Northern Yin, the only one to achieve triple honors in the imperial exams. Young Master Su, renowned for his brilliance in Bianjing since childhood, held him in disdain before the palace examination. Yet afterward, he not only ceded the top rank but submitted visiting cards four consecutive days in admiration.”
Qu You nodded vaguely. “Their debates with the Four Masters in Xuande Hall have been widely praised. They must possess genuine talent.”
“The other day, Governor Fu’s daughter dropped her hairpin right into our esteemed scholar’s lap,” Gao Yunyue added with a smirk. “Governor Fu shares a mentorship bond with Chancellor Gu, making him already a disciple. If he marries the governor’s daughter, his rise will be unstoppable.”
At this, Qu You furrowed her brow slightly.
Every year during the Qionglin Night Banquet at Zhantai Manor, the courtyard would be filled with blooming flowers. The tranquil pond in the estate reflected countless floral shadows.
Zhou Tan sat beside Gu Zhiyan, lost in thought until Gu called his name several times. “Xiaobai.”
“Teacher.”
Earlier, Su Chaoci had approached him to chat, and in a moment of excitement, Zhou Tan drank more than he should have. His tolerance for alcohol was poor, and now he felt slightly dizzy.
Gu Zhiyan surveyed the room full of scholars, his whiskers trembling faintly as he smiled. “Today is your grand day, and the Crown Prince is here too. Let me take the liberty of asking on behalf of His Highness: what do you seek in life?”
The banquet buzzed with activity, words flying freely.
Zhou Tan forced himself to focus. Just then, he saw Su Chaoci across from him, holding a wine cup, his face flushed with excitement. “This humble student... wishes to follow the path of our forebears, to achieve great deeds and leave a lasting legacy in history!”
Su raised his cup and drank deeply, earning applause from the crowd.
Finally, it was Zhou Tan’s turn. A servant refilled his cup with Zhuangyuan Hong , an aged vintage rarely tasted at such banquets. The rich aroma of wine wafted to his nose.
Gu Zhiyan sat upright, watching him calmly. Amidst the clamor, Zhou Tan could only hear his own voice: “My wish is simple and perhaps mundane—it has been said countless times before... To establish a moral compass for heaven and earth, to secure the livelihood of the people...”
“To inherit the wisdom of past sages and pave the way for peace and prosperity for all generations!”
He drained his cup in one gulp. The Crown Prince’s smile stiffened momentarily.
Fu Qingnian glanced at Gu Zhiyan, who smiled but remained silent. Gao Ze weighed his wine cup thoughtfully, his expression enigmatic.
The atmosphere in the hall suddenly froze for a brief moment.
Su Chaoci’s face turned beet red, seemingly overwhelmed with shame. He stammered, unable to speak. It was Luo Jinglun who broke the silence first: “Young scholars, sincere and innocent—how admirable, how moving...”
With those words, laughter erupted once more.
“It reminds me of when I first entered court, brimming with such naive sincerity...”
Zhou Tan sat quietly, unsure why everyone was laughing.
The Crown Prince, clad in pale purple robes and surrounded by attendants, raised his cup in a distant toast to Zhou Tan before drinking it down without a word.
Zhou Tan recalled the moment before the banquet began. As he passed through the tranquil pond and admired the flowers in the corridor, Song Shiyan appeared without attendants. Without asking who Zhou was, Song poured wine and drank with him, spilling droplets onto rose petals.
Song remarked, “We are kindred spirits at first sight.”
Then he plucked the rose and tossed it carelessly to the ground. Zhou wanted to stop him but remained silent.
He came to admire the flowers but lacked any sentiment for them.
That fleeting sense of kinship, perhaps, was nothing more than an excuse.
Gu Zhiyan led him away, leaving no opportunity to retrieve the lonely rose.
The night banquet was in full bloom, yet Zhou Tan felt like an outsider amidst the festivities.
As the feast neared its climax, someone suggested a poetry recital. The scholars eagerly agreed, taking turns to write verses on a large sheet of paper. Su Chaoci handed Zhou Tan a jade pen, dropping a single dot of ink onto the page.
Ten years of dreams in Jiangnan, culminating in becoming a top scholar.
The weight of his parents’ deaths, the burden of his lineage, the fragility of ideals, and the uncertainty of the future pressed heavily on the young man’s shoulders.
And so, he wrote:
“The azure sky weeps tears of rain,
Waves rise to veil the land in green,
Falling petals scatter aimlessly.”
...
“Hooves echo through spring winds,
Clouds drift past,
Flowers fall at the night banquet—
Regretful blossoms fade.”
After the banquet ended, Gu Zhiyan patted Zhou Tan’s shoulder and sighed repeatedly, though he said nothing.
Su Chaoci was drunk beyond reason, sobbing uncontrollably before Zhou. Others didn’t understand why he cried, but Zhou simply consoled him briefly and summoned his attendants to escort him home.
Zhou lingered for a long time, waiting until nearly everyone had left before walking alone through the corridor to sober up before returning home.
There, he noticed the rose that the Crown Prince had carelessly plucked earlier. It lay broken and trampled, its pink petals stained with dirt.
Zhou picked it up, walked through the corridor, and gently placed it into the tranquil pond. The flowing water cleansed it, granting it a peaceful resting place.
As the flower sank beneath the surface, Zhou abruptly remembered the glance he exchanged earlier at Fanlou—the apricot blossom that had fallen into his hand. It still rested securely in his inner robe, close to his heart, pulsing faintly.
Lost in thought, Zhou stared at the water’s surface. The ripples caused by the falling flower had already vanished, leaving behind a clear reflection of the solitary moon above.
He intended to gaze longer, but a sudden gust of wind scattered petals from the courtyard apricot trees into the pond like rain.
The quiet night stretched on, devoid of visitors.
________________________________________
[03·A Thousand-Year Dream]
When Gu Zhiyan was discreetly ushered into the gathering, the Flower-Planting Banquet was at its peak.
At the time, Gao Ze was still the Crown Prince’s tutor and uninvolved in factional disputes. Having received an invitation, Gu attended, albeit late.
“Qingchun Ze,” he mused silently, recalling it as Gao Ze’s eldest daughter’s private room at Fanlou.
Taking a seat casually, Gu accepted tea offered by Gao, who probed lightly: “I heard you’re seeking marriage prospects for your student?”
Gu glanced at him and smiled. “Does the tutor have any intentions?”
Gao replied, “The Crown Prince marrying his cousin is an excellent match. I merely wish to find a trustworthy partner for my daughter.”
Gu picked up a teacup and responded calmly, “He is already my student; such a high-profile union might not suit him... The Emperor wouldn’t approve.”
His brief remark sufficed for Gao to grasp the implications.
Gu Zhiyan detested factional strife throughout his life and avoided actions that might place him under suspicion. Praised widely for treating Zhou Tan like a son, marrying the tutor’s daughter—even unintentionally—would invite accusations of forming cliques.
Thus, Gao said no more.
At the banquet, Gao Yunyue and Qu You were enthusiastically composing linked verses.
This poetic game was initially proposed by Princess Jiafu to showcase her talent, but in the end, only Qu You and Gao Yunyue remained engaged.
Their bond, forged through shared poetry, made collaboration effortless.
From behind a screen, Gu Zhiyan listened intently. When Qu You concluded their verses with the line, “Before the hall, streams carry flowers away; heaven and earth remain oblivious,”
“Bravo!”
After drinking, Gu asked Gao, “Who is this young lady befriended by your eldest daughter?”
Gao answered, “She hails from the historian Qu family. A girl of noble character, she gets along well with my daughter.”
Gu picked up a plate of honeyed snacks and instructed a servant, “Deliver this to Miss Qu and invite her to meet me in the rear garden.”
Beside him, Gao sighed, “Ah, good men abound in the capital, but virtuous daughters are rare. It’s not easy to catch the eye of Chancellor Gu.”
Qu You was invited to a pavilion in the rear garden. She bowed respectfully from three steps away: “Chancellor Gu.”
Servants stood by, but Gu did not approach, sitting instead on a stone stool before the pavilion. “Miss Qu, are you the daughter of a historian?”
Qu You often heard her father praise Gu Zhiyan but remained unsure of his intentions. With humility, she replied softly, “Yes.”
Gu’s smile deepened. “I know your father—a man of integrity. Since you come from a historian’s household, let me ask you something...”
His thoughts drifted, and he blurted out a question he had posed to Zhou Tan days earlier: “Do you wish to be swept along by history, or to write it?”
Gu recognized Xiao Yue and once shared a drink with him and Song Chang. Upon meeting Zhou Tan unexpectedly, he sensed something unusual.
Later, he uncovered the truth about Xiao Yue’s death for Zhou Tan.
Imperial suspicion and ministerial loyalty—neither party erred, yet a fleeting hesitation led to tragedy. Gu hesitated to deliver such news, uncertain of the reaction.
But Zhou Tan knelt before him, bowing deeply, calm and composed.
“In truth... this student merely wished to understand the Emperor’s intentions—to know if His Majesty truly abandoned Xiao Yue or if Governor Fu deliberately framed him. Whispers and imperial machinations—are these not tired tales written in history? My father retains his posthumous fame, and His Majesty... likely regrets it.”
Gu was taken aback by Zhou’s response. “Xiaobai...”
“Teacher,” Zhou raised his tear-filled eyes, though no tears fell. “Now, with peace restored and stability reigning, His Majesty listens to counsel and governs diligently. Isn’t this... my father’s wish? You’ve devoted your life to curbing factional strife, achieving tranquility and unity within our court. This student... cannot destroy it all for some elusive ideal.”
He bowed again. “What is gone... yesterday cannot be reclaimed. If I can achieve even half of what my teacher has, securing half a blessing for the world, then my life will not have been in vain.”
Gu understood Zhou’s meaning.
His pursuit of truth in the capital stemmed from a desire to know the facts about Xiao Yue’s death. Knowing that the Emperor still harbored affection for Xiao Yue and hadn’t acted maliciously was enough.
To establish justice and secure livelihoods, he couldn’t disrupt the fragile peace Gu had painstakingly maintained.
Pain gripped Gu’s chest as he reached out to lift Zhou, his voice trembling. “Xiaobai...”
Ah, Xiaobai.
Bai Qiu must be proud to have raised such a child. Surely, Xiao Yue would rest in peace knowing this.
Gu accompanied his student in drunken revelry until midnight. As Zhou prepared to leave, Gu tugged at his sleeve and asked, “Xiaobai... Do you wish to write history, or be swept along by it?”
Zhou staggered a few steps, muttering something lost in the night breeze, mingling with the scent of wine. The wind carried it away, forgotten instantly.
Those words slowly returned, echoing strangely with the reply from the woman standing before him.
Qu You stood politely by the pillar, puzzled by Gu’s query. “Why does Chancellor Gu ask this?”
“...Can those who write history escape being swept along by it?”
________________________________________
Qu You never learned why Gu Zhiyan posed that question.
In Bianjing, the Ranzhu Incident erupted, sowing panic. Rumors spread that all of Gu’s former students were imprisoned.
Her father, connected to Gu through historical work, was implicated and detained by the Ministry of Justice.
Her mother fell ill, burdening Qu You with managing household affairs.
Gao Yunyue secretly sent silver to support her, writing hastily that she wished to visit but was forbidden by her father, who ordered her to stay indoors.
Qu You discovered that managing the household wasn’t overly difficult.
One thing troubled her—since her father’s imprisonment, she began dreaming nightly. These fragmented dreams left her unsettled.
She dreamed of weeping bitterly under red-sashed trees, digging another’s grave barehanded in broad daylight, and burying herself.
She dreamed of endless snow-covered deserts, black walls towering impossibly high, basking in sunlight, closing her eyes amidst the scent of still incense, never awakening.
She also dreamed of a faceless man in white robes, his hem embroidered with bamboo leaves.
She argued fiercely with this seemingly gentle figure.
“But I... I’m willing to rot alongside you in the annals of history!”
“I refuse!”
These disjointed dreams tormented Qu You. With no opportunity to visit Mount Xiuqing Temple for answers, she confided in her youngest brother, Qu Xiangwen. Perplexed, he spent two days poring over the I Ching and Zhuangzi .
Google Sites
Report abuse