Chapter 301: The Princess’s Diary
Mianmian unhurriedly dug into her pocket.
Princess Huiyun watched her patiently, a little curious about what she was pulling out.
When she finally saw her dig and dig, she pulled out an Ant and placed it near the roasted red dates.
Princess Huiyun’s brow twitched uncontrollably.
When she was a young girl, she had raised a small, emerald-green snake, even sparking a craze for snake-keeping in the capital.
Later, when a young lady was bitten to death by her own pet snake, the trend slowly died out.
She had released her little snake into the wild.
It seemed she had done so with Master Jingjue; hmm, by the time she released it, it was no longer a little snake, but a very thick, large patterned snake weighing over ten jin.
Looking back, it was quite strange that she had once raised such a peculiar creature.
Now, seeing the exceptionally large Ant the little girl pulled out—an Ant that looked like an iron ox—Princess Huiyun strangely received the signal that this was a pet, not food.
“What is it called?”
“Ant. My dream—perhaps I should start by talking about Little Tree.”
The princess thought:…Truly her own granddaughter; she even gave the Ant a name.
Back then, she had named her little snake Chu Miaomiao. Just like her.
Princess Huiyun suddenly realized she was remembering many things from the past.
“In that dream, there was no Ant. There was a young boy who idled his days away, wandering the streets, touting for customers for the ladies at the brothel, hanging out with other scoundrels to fill his belly, and occasionally bringing something home.”
Outside the window, the snow had stopped, and the wind had died down.
The red dates began to emit a fragrant aroma.
“The scoundrel offended a young master, who took a dislike to him and ordered his servants to beat him, breaking his forehead. He ran home and died two days later, beyond saving.”
The roasting dates began to smoke.
Mianmian turned them over.
“The boy was the eldest son of the family; he died before he even reached adulthood. His Father’s hair turned white overnight, and he fell ill, unable to rise.”
“The man whose hair turned white overnight discovered that the person who beat his son to death was the son of his own Elder Brother. But since he had already been cast out of the family, he couldn’t even enter the gate to seek revenge.”
“To help her Father recover quickly and afford medical treatment, the younger sister of the deceased boy sold herself as a maid to a young master in Prefecture City. When the girl’s parents went to look for her, she had disappeared—neither alive nor dead, without a trace.”
“Later, the boy’s youngest sister lay at home and was bitten to death by a venomous snake from who knows where. His mother suspected the family who had beaten her son to death and went to seek revenge, only to be beaten to death herself.”
The red dates were completely charred, emitting black smoke.
“The man first buried his eldest son, then his youngest daughter, and then his wife. Yet that family had long since left for the capital, rising step by step, enjoying endless wealth and glory.”
“The man’s health was extremely poor, terminally ill, and every moment of his life was agony. Yet he dared not die; he had to find his second daughter, who had gone missing. He searched all the way, finally reaching the capital, only to learn that his second daughter had become a concubine for a wealthy family. That wealthy family was about to marry the sister of the man who had beaten his eldest son to death. His second daughter had hanged herself.”
“His eldest son was dead, his second daughter was dead, his youngest daughter was dead, and his wife was dead. He was all alone. Later, he must have died too. Until his death, he never knew that his mother was not his mother, and his brother was not his brother. In the end, he wanted to be buried with his wife and children, but he couldn’t find anyone to bury him. His wife and children were underground, waiting for him, waiting and waiting, from corpses to bones, to dust, waiting for a lifetime, an entire life. They waited until a new life arrived.”
The dates caught fire and began to burn.
Princess Huiyun was already sobbing uncontrollably.
She was trembling all over.
She dared not imagine how such a vicious story could exist in this world.
She had thought that not being able to be with the one she loved was the saddest thing in the world.
But this story was a hundred, a thousand times more vicious than unrequited love.
It hurt more than being sliced into a thousand pieces.
She dared not imagine how much her child must have suffered.
“Grandma, if Father did something wrong, please, you must forgive him. He didn’t mean to. To you, this is a story, a dream. But to Father, this might be his experience. To each of us, this is our fate. We do not seek wealth and glory; we only want to change this terrible fate and survive.”
“You ask me where I saw such bones? Underground. I saw the corpses—I saw corpses without skin, I saw corpses without flesh, I saw corpses without internal organs, I saw corpses that were only bones. Every time I looked at him, he smiled at me, because he is my Elder Brother.”
The fire on the red dates went out, burned to nothing but ash.
Princess Huiyun, trembling all over, held the child tightly in her arms.
“Don’t say anymore, don’t say anymore. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
Princess Huiyun held the child tightly, her body still shaking.
Jiang Mianmian was shaking too.
Perhaps what she told was a story.
Or perhaps that was the truth, and this was the story.
“It’s a dream, just a dream, child. It’s a dream. Don’t be afraid. Mother is here. I’m here.”
The room was very warm.
Yet at this moment, Princess Huiyun felt as if she were in a bottomless abyss, surrounded by ice, snow, and endless darkness.
Only the faint, warm, and soft breath of the little one in her arms reached her.
She held this child as if time had paused.
Until she saw the large Ant, because it was too hot, move its body slightly away from the stove, keeping a distance.
Watching the Ant slowly move away, then stop, and remain motionless like a sculpture, Princess Huiyun didn’t even dare to look at the child in her arms, fearing that what she was holding was fake.
Fearing that everything was just a dream again.
She held her for a long time, until she heard steady breathing, and only then dared to look down.
She had fallen asleep.
The little one had actually fallen asleep.
Mianmian had been dragged out of bed early in the morning.
She usually had the habit of taking a nap.
Accompanying Father to recognize his relatives, playing with Princess Grandma, telling stories to Princess Grandma—even a child made of iron needs a nap.
Princess Grandma’s embrace was still very warm.
She struggled a few times, found it ineffective, and simply lay down to enjoy it.
Slowly, she leaned against Princess Grandma’s embrace and fell asleep.
A short nap.
Little Tree was there, so it should be fine.
Jiang Mianmian slept very peacefully.
Princess Huiyun held her, not expecting her to have fallen asleep.
She had fallen asleep in her arms.
Her body was soft, her breathing steady, her face familiar yet strange.
She couldn’t recall her appearance when she was a child.
A fleeting sense of familiarity, followed by endless strangeness.
Reluctantly, she placed the child on the couch.
She covered her with a thin silk quilt, watching her roll over and kick the quilt off, sleeping on her side.
Her face was a bit chubby, slightly flattened as she pressed it against the pillow.
Incredibly cute.
As she slept, she was like the greatest treasure in the world.
Princess Huiyun sat beside her.
She opened a cabinet under the tea table and pulled out a notebook.
The servants had mysteriously prepared the brush and ink.
She opened the notebook.
Page by page, it recorded her daily life.
“Today I met a strange mother and daughter…”
“Today while floating on the water, my mind remembered some things; it seemed I saw him…”
Princess Huiyun had a habit of keeping a diary.
Because she sometimes suffered from an illness, she would experience memory lapses, completely omitting certain memories, or even failing to recall what she had experienced.
So she wrote a diary, recording what she considered meaningful and important.
But she never looked back at it; she only recorded, never daring to look, never daring to open it.
Some memories were too tragic; she didn’t want to remember them herself, so she transferred the memories onto the paper.
She recorded the events of today.
She recorded it stroke by stroke.
As she wrote, she shed many tears.
The page was filled with absurd words, and she could barely breathe, but she still recorded it stroke by stroke.
As she wrote and wrote, she suddenly began to slowly recall the past.
Every past event, every year, every month, every day of the past.
One by one, piece by piece, they seemed to slowly revive in her memory.
She even remembered the time she gave birth.
The scene of being near death.
She saw a child with a pale, bluish complexion, and suddenly she remembered—no, that wasn’t it.
The child with the pale, bluish complexion was not the child she had given birth to.
The child she had given birth to had a mole on her chest; the pale child did not.
She wailed; that was how she had forgotten.
She remembered the Prince Consort, remembered Master Jingjue, remembered the Emperor, remembered Madam Jiang, remembered how she had spent every day in the past.
All the fragmented days strung together, like a chaotic, grand dream.
She stopped crying.
She had the servants help her wash up.
Perhaps because she always lost some memories, she subconsciously always felt that she was still young, and so Heaven truly gave her a face that was still quite young.
She put on a half-face golden mask, a gift from the Emperor when she was injured years ago.
She reapplied her makeup and put on her ceremonial robes, one piece after another.
In the heavy snow, the woman was fully adorned.
A monk was striking a wooden fish.
Occasionally, he would get distracted and look out the window, and suddenly see a woman as enchanting as a goddess walking on the snow.
The monk quickly struck the wooden fish, dong, dong, dong, his six senses were not pure—how could there be a goddess in an ancient temple…
Sure enough, when he looked up again, the ancient temple was still an ancient temple.
The snow was still snow.
It was just a hallucination.
Mianmian felt her body swaying.
She half-opened one eye and took a glance; Princess Grandma was nearby, Little Tree was at her side, and she closed her eyes and continued to sleep.
This must be taking her home.
It’s best to sleep on a bus, and a carriage is the same—swaying, a good sleep.
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