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In the Daming Palace, An Suyun walked slowly and bowed, “Your Majesty, it has been taken care of.”
Chen Zhao’s hand trembled. She remained stunned for a long time, her eyes shifting from helplessness to confusion, then finally filled with tenderness.
She slowly raised her head and smiled softly: “Now that Consort Shu is dead, no one will disturb me and Qionglin anymore.”
“Your Majesty... Consort Shu passed away long ago, what died today was...”
“Silence!” Chen Zhao was furious, picking up a jade desk and throwing it down the steps.
An Suyun stood with her head bowed below, not daring to speak.
The jade desk shattered into several pieces in front of her.
“Qionglin is still waiting for me in the bedroom.” Tenderness filled Chen Zhao’s eyes and brows.
It was a gentleness An Suyun had never seen before.
“These days have been hard on him. Go call the imperial physician to treat him well.” After Chen Zhao spoke, An Suyun did not move.
“Still not going?” Chen Zhao urged.
“Lord Jiang... he has just passed away! His body has already been sent to the west of the city...”
“You lie!” Chen Zhao swept her sleeve, scattering the memorials on the desk all over the floor.
An Suyun was extremely frightened and immediately knelt down: “This servant is terrified!” Her whole body trembled, not because she feared Chen Zhao would blame her, but because she feared Chen Zhao’s spirit might collapse.
But she worried too much.
Chen Zhao was an emperor who knew what she should and shouldn’t do.
Her loss of control lasted only one night.
That night, she spent the entire time mourning the downfall of the peerless Peony Lord, recalling every moment they shared, as if he were by her side, never leaving.
After this night, she never showed any more sadness.
She had buried her true self deep inside, maintaining an unchanging expression, like a mountain that wouldn’t crumble under pressure, worrying about the world before others, enjoying happiness after others.
She was a competent ruler. The next day, she could still attend court as usual.
She threw away everything related to Jiang Qionglin in the bedroom, even putting away the painting of the beauty, forbidding anyone from mentioning him again.
Only occasionally, when tired from reviewing memorials, she would blurt out to those around her: “Qionglin, what do you think about this matter?”
But others dared not respond. When she didn’t hear a reply for a long time and turned to see Master Shi beside her, she would be momentarily startled, sigh, and then gaze absentmindedly at the vast sky outside, thinking it was just another episode of her delusion...
Seven days later, when Jiang Qionglin was buried, very few people attended. On the contrary, Wu Rui’an wore white clothes and busied himself directing everyone to properly bury him.
He appeared idle, but his facial expressions were complex, incomprehensible to others.
There seemed to be pity, sympathy, but more than anything, it looked like admiration.
Everyone said Jiang Qionglin was fickle and corrupted the palace, angering the emperor, but Wu Rui’an, who knew the full story, understood that everything he did was for Chen Zhao.
In Jiang Qionglin’s heart, this affection was unrelated to romance or status; it was merely fulfilling the wish of the woman he loved.
Previously, Consort Shu was always a thorn in Chen Zhao’s heart—impossible to swallow or remove. Now, Empress Mother had finally avenged Consort Shu in her own way. Whether she was happy now or not, who knows?
Wu Rui’an carried this doubt but didn’t plan to seek confirmation from Chen Zhao.
Because whether happy or not, it was like drinking water—cold or warm, only known by oneself. He couldn’t intervene, nor could he mock.
...
After listening to the Buddhist chants for forty-nine days, when Di Jiang returned to Taiping Prefecture, news of Jiang Qionglin’s death filled the streets. People discussed fervently, their words filled with ridicule, disdain, or pity, among other things, countless examples.
Di Jiang wasn’t surprised, but Wen Yao, agitated, immediately pulled Di Jiang to find Wu Rui’an at his mansion to ask for clarity.
Wu Rui’an didn’t know much either. After revealing everything he knew, he added: “Jiang Qionglin showed no regret until his death, seemingly having foreseen his fate and willingly accepting it.”
“I didn’t even see him one last time...” Though it was hard for Wen Yao to accept, no matter how upset she was, she only cried at the table for an afternoon.
During these days, the forty-nine days of Buddhist chants in the Demon Suppressing Pagoda had somewhat tempered her rash nature. Perhaps from the moment Jiang Qionglin entered Jian Su Medical Clinic, she had mentally prepared herself.
Since Jiang Qionglin’s beauty was otherworldly, he wouldn’t remain in the mortal world for long...
As time passed, old news was gradually replaced by new stories. Jiang Qionglin became like someone who had never existed.
Though he once entered the pleasure quarters in Taiping Prefecture and rose to fame as a male courtesan, participated in the imperial examination and emerged victorious, attended the Qionglin Banquet, served as a fourth-rank official, and later fell from grace, fading away... No matter how splendid his life was, he would eventually be forgotten by time, sealed in people’s memories.
Such a turbulent life ended without even a trace of remembrance on the face of the person he loved.
“He was really foolish,” Wen Yao said.
“He wasn’t foolish, he just cared too much.” Di Jiang smiled faintly and told Wen Yao a story.
She said: “A long, long time ago, perhaps in a previous life, or maybe two lives ago, there was a child born in troubled times with kindness and elegance, who unfortunately died suddenly and lay dead on the street. In such a famine-stricken era, no one paid attention. Later, a young lady from a wealthy family took off her dress and covered his exposed body. Then, this child made a vow to repay her kindness in the next life.”
“So Jiang Qionglin’s previous life was wrapped by Chen Zhao?” Wen Yao wondered.
“I’m just making an analogy,” Di Jiang shook her head, “Perhaps the specific events weren’t like that, but the principle is the same. This life, he loved her to repay her for covering his body in the previous life. And the man whom Chen Zhao loved so much she devoted her life to might be the one who buried her in a past life. Life is so wonderful, repeating endlessly, cause and effect cycling.”
“Is that so...” Wen Yao opened her mouth wide, quickly picked up her small bamboo basket, and ran out.
“Where are you going?” Di Jiang was startled.
“I’m going to see if there are people who need help, accumulate some merit for the next life! Maybe in the next life, there will be an unparalleled gentleman who is devoted to me!”
“... “ Di Jiang held her forehead, speechless with laughter.
If people like them had a next life, it would be quite terrifying, wouldn’t it?
How she wished for a next life, but they only had this one.
Just this one.
In the evening, during dinner, Wen Yao asked again: “Shopkeeper, what will happen to Empress Chen in the next life?”
“She has fulfilled all her wishes in this life. What does it matter in the next? Just a bowl of Meng Po soup, and all past memories will fade.” Di Jiang’s face was indifferent.
“She can still drink Meng Po soup?” Wen Yao exclaimed: “She killed so many people, I thought she would enter the animal realm.”
“Happiness depends on misfortune, and misfortune depends on happiness. She has committed many killings, but she has also done many good deeds for the people. Merits and faults offset each other. In the next life, she might be born into an ordinary household and live a common life.”
“Really... That’s quite unfortunate.” Wen Yao’s expression darkened.
Di Jiang was startled, “What do you mean?”
“Just think, if someone marries her in the next life and finds out she was such a ruthless and cold-hearted person, how disgusting would that be!” Wen Yao was indignant, as if she had suffered a great injustice.
Di Jiang gasped, silently holding her forehead, deciding not to discuss this issue with her anymore.
...
That night, the Flower Deity Record, untouched for three years, was opened again.
At the beginning of the fourth volume, large peony flowers bloomed brightly on the paper, luxurious and elegant, making viewers feel as if they were in a vast peony grove.
She suddenly remembered when Wen Yao first mentioned the Peony Lord.
She said: “The Peony Lord is beautiful beyond compare, surpassing all beauties. Just sitting there slightly, he overshadowed all the beauties in Chang Le Fang. His face... truly calamitous.”
Di Jiang had seen Jiang Qionglin in the Huan Yi Pavilion, seen him with pride in his eyes while being kept by others. She had also heard from others about his eloquent speeches in the three halls, and his debates with ministers in front of the Daming Palace.
And that day in the dungeon, he held the poisoned wine cup, kneeling in the dirty cell, his back straight, neither humble nor arrogant, neither self-pitying nor self-resentful, but with gentle eyes, filled with affection.
Perhaps this was her peony—once blooming to its utmost splendor, facing decay with fearless courage.
Di Jiang smiled, sighed, and finally inscribed Jiang Qionglin’s name in the Flower Deity Record.
His biography appeared in the Flower Deity Record. His last words in this world were not spoken, but they appeared in the Flower Deity Collection.
He said: “Once having seen the sea, mere waters cannot impress. Apart from the Wu Mountains, no clouds can enchant. In my life, I’ve seen the most beautiful scenery, climbed the highest peaks, and loved the foremost person of this age. What resentment or regret could I possibly have? I loved the best woman in the world, protected the woman I loved most, I have no regrets, no complaints.”
Di Jiang smiled, holding the Flower Deity Record, and took a white jade pen. At the end of the fourth volume, she personally added a poem praising a favored concubine.
The poem read:
“The famous flower and the beauty both please, often making the sovereign smile; Explaining the infinite resentment of spring breeze, leaning against the balustrade in the north of the Chenxiang Pavilion.”
...
Fourth Volume: The Ultimate Beauty of Peonies
Complete.
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