Chapter 63 Farewell
Yan Xuerui's heart clenched, her glistening eyes fixed on her eldest son. Minglan was a good child—sensible, considerate, respectful, and filial. In his youth, he had followed Gu Yan to garrison the border, sending letters monthly, always reporting good news and hiding any troubles.
The wolf teeth he hunted himself, the fox-fur cloak sent in winter, the unique butter tea and dried horse milk from the northwest—he remembered his mother with every gift. Though modest, they were filled with affection. In those years, she eagerly awaited Minglan’s letters, raising the lively and mischievous Mingwei by her side. The two children brought her immense comfort, making those trying years more endurable.
But now, as she looked at Minglan, the son she had carried for ten months and given birth to, she saw he had grown up. His cold, stern expression was resolute, and his words sounded more and more like Gu Yan’s—authoritative and controlling.
"Minglan."
Yan Xuerui lowered her gaze and asked softly, "Are you giving me orders?"
"I would never dare."
Such words were too heavy for Minglan. He quickly lifted his robe and knelt on one knee, his knee hitting the cold, hard stone with a solid, audible thud.
"I am only worried for you, Mother. I would never overstep."
Unlike Gu Yan, Minglan was still her son, and a mother’s heart ached for him. She hurried forward to take his arm gently. Minglan dared not let her bear his weight and rose on his own.
"You child, can’t you take a jest?"
Yan Xuerui whispered, "I’ll have Bihe bring you some ointment for bruises. Remember to apply it when you return."
"I’m tired."
Yan Xuerui interrupted Minglan before he could speak further. "You may go now."
"Don’t worry. Your Imperial Grandfather has given me guards to ensure my safety."
Having grown up in Yangzhou, Yan Xuerui’s speech carried the melodic lilt of the Jiangnan region. Yet, beneath that gentle tone, Minglan sensed his mother’s unhappiness.
Had he misspoken? A flicker of confusion arose in Minglan’s heart. As a son, he had only meant well for his mother.
"Yes. May Mother rest early."
Minglan had one advantage over Gu Yan: he was obedient. Though he had doubts, he complied with his mother’s wishes and took his leave. As he departed, he glanced at her delicate, pale profile—her hair piled like clouds, her slender eyelashes fanning beneath her eyelids, her unconsciously furrowed brows, and the sorrow lingering in her shimmering eyes.
It suddenly reminded him of his childhood, when his mother often wore this same expression, as delicate and sorrowful as the ancient beauty Xishi.
Gu Minglan turned and left, the bright moonlight spilling over his broad shoulders. He wondered: Mother is now a princess, with Father and the Marquis’s household behind her, and I am also capable of protecting her. Why… why is she still unhappy?
He did not understand.
Under the same moonlight, Yan Xuerui gathered the colorful silk wrap around her shoulders, her expression pensive and complicated.
She was no longer young, long past the age of recklessness and desperate attempts to flee. In truth, after giving birth to Minglan, the joy of raising a newborn had gradually dispelled her desire to flee.
His little arms and legs, so soft and small—for the sake of her children, she had been willing to stay by Gu Yan’s side. Years had passed in the blink of an eye, and in the long stretch of time, Minglan had grown as tall and imposing as his father.
He no longer needed his mother’s protection. Instead, he had begun to emulate Gu Yan in managing her affairs.
This saddened Yan Xuerui.
"Madam—no, Your Highness, the imperial kitchen has sent a pot of glutinous rice with black chicken soup. Would you like to have some before resting?"
The meal had been specially prepared for Young Master Minglan, but he had left without touching it. Bihe felt regretful; her life had been saved by Young Master Minglan, and she held deep gratitude for him.
Yan Xuerui had no appetite for the soup at the moment. In the lonely depths of the palace, Bihe had become her trusted confidante.
She could not help but ask, "Bihe, do you think… has Minglan changed?"
What was once her comfort had become a shackle that now binds her tightly.
Bihe widened her eyes in shock and exclaimed, "How could that be? Young Master Minglan’s respect and filial piety toward you are known by everyone in the household!"
"Young Master Minglan comes to pay his respects at the main courtyard daily. You may not know, but on days when you praised the fresh hairpins, it was Young Master Minglan who plucked them for you himself. He forbade us servants from speaking of it."
"Young Master Minglan is composed and dignified. If I may be so bold, where in the capital can you find such a fine young man?"
"…"
Having served Yan Xuerui for a long time, Bihe noticed her displeasure and feared a rift had formed between mother and son. Remembering that Gu Minglan had once saved her life, she poured all her effort into praising him.
"Enough, enough. Minglan is good in every way. You may drink this bowl of black chicken soup to soothe your throat."
Yan Xuerui waved her hand helplessly. Even Bihe, who understood her best, could not comprehend the sorrow in her heart.
She lifted the bed curtain herself, wrapped herself in the soft brocade quilt, forced aside her troubling thoughts, and slowly closed her eyes.
***
For several days in a row, Yan Xuerui did not leave the palace.
Mr. Gao had temporarily relieved Fang Zhixu’s illness and declared it treatable. Yan Xuerui breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps it was because she felt too ashamed to face Fang Zhixu, or perhaps it was Minglan’s words from that day—though she had refuted them, they had left a mark on her heart.
She did not see Fang Zhixu again. Instead, she summoned the Yan family, who were still in the capital and had not yet returned to Yangzhou.
The Yan family had been rewarded for raising the princess—the emperor bestowed a thousand gold taels and a hundred acres of fertile land. Preoccupied with various matters in previous days and fearing she might startle the elderly couple, Yan Xuerui had waited a few days before summoning them. By the time they met again, Yan’s father and mother had recovered from their initial shock and excitement.
"Ruier—no, we should address you as Your Highness now."
Yan’s mother trembled as she reached out to touch Yan Xuerui’s face—her mist-like eyebrows, delicate nose, and snow-white skin. She had always said such a beautiful child could not possibly belong to an ordinary family.
It turned out a phoenix from the heavens had descended into their modest household, and she had been blessed with incredible fortune.
"Your Highness, all these years, you’ve endured so much."
Yan Xuerui clasped Yan’s mother’s hand and said earnestly, "Mother, please don’t say that. You have always treated me well."
She still addressed Yan’s mother as "Mother." The Yan family was a comfortably well-off household in Yangzhou, and both parents were kind and loving. Reflecting on it, Yan Xuerui realized that her over ten years in Yangzhou had been the most carefree time of her life.
As a merchant family, they had few rules. She had once walked barefoot on rain-dampened bluestone pavements, removed her hairpins, and boated into layers of lotus leaves, peeling fresh, sweet lotus seeds with her fingertips. Yangzhou’s summers were oppressively hot, and she would freely nap on a bamboo mat in the cool shade, listening to the cicadas’ chirping, often dozing until dusk.
She would wake up, stretch lazily, and stroll over to help her mother with the account books. The evening breeze brushing against her cheeks was gentle.
At the time, it all seemed ordinary. Later, in the stifling Marquis of Jingyuan’s residence, where rules were strict, she was followed by a crowd of maids wherever she went. Gu Yan forbade her from stepping into water or boating, claiming her body was too weak to withstand the cold. He shielded her meticulously from everything. Lotus seeds were shelled for her, and over time, her hands lost their skill. She even began to believe she was indeed frail, submitting entirely to Gu Yan’s arrangements.
Looking back now, her girlhood days in the inner chambers were beautiful but brief. In her memories, even Xuefang, who had always made trouble for her, seemed almost agreeable.
"By the way, Mother, why didn’t Xuefang come with you?"
Yan Xuerui looked puzzled. According to the original plan, the elderly couple had intended to leave the capital after Yunshu entered the Eastern Palace. But many events had occurred in between—the Virtuous Prince’s rebellion and execution, strict searches at the palace gates—causing a delay of many days.
This visit to the palace was both to see Yan Xuerui and to bid farewell.
At the mention of Xuefang, Yan’s mother looked awkward and evasive, saying, "She’s ill. Don’t worry about her."
Yan Xuefang was indeed "ill," but it was a heartache. Back when her daughter had entered the Eastern Palace and Gu Yan was imprisoned, she thought she had finally gained the upper hand—after competing for so many years, she had won a round.
But overnight, Yan Xuerui became a princess, Gu Yan was restored to his position, and their separation became the talk of the town. With no one to restrain them, wagers were even made in the streets on whether they would truly part, and the stakes had grown quite high.
Yan Xuefang was so enraged that she woke up disoriented, and her first words were, "I won't leave."
Yan Xuefang was nearly old enough to be a grandmother. Having been widowed for many years, she no longer dared to harbor the youthful ambitions of her youth.
But she was filled with resentment. Back then, it was she who had first written perfumed letters to the nobleman from the capital, yet through some twist of fate, it was her sister who ended up with him.
The man she couldn't have was taken by her sister.
Her sister was a noble phoenix, while she was just a mere merchant's daughter.
For years, Yan Xuefang had secretly compared herself to her sister, and now her beliefs had completely collapsed. She refused to accept it. She would stay in the capital and wait—she had to see them divorce!
Only then could her jealous, restless heart find some solace. Her sister had always wanted to know why she had ambiguously signed with "Snowflake" back then. Perhaps she would mercifully tell her one day.
A mother knows her daughter best. Yan Mother understood Yan Xuefang and knew that this headstrong daughter would only cause trouble if she stayed in the capital. Yan Xuefang was stubborn and refused to listen to her mother's advice. The two argued and scuffled in the house... Under such circumstances, Yan Mother naturally couldn't have her come.
Yan Mother spoke evasively, but Yan Xuerui could guess some of it. Looking at her mother's graying temples, she said, "Mother, do you really think I would hold a grudge against Xuefang?"
Her parents were getting old, and their heir was not as close. She still hoped Yan Xuefang would take care of them in their old age. If Xuefang refused to return to Yangzhou, she would have to hog-tie and haul her back.
Still as willful as she was in childhood, even at her age.
Yan Mother felt even more ashamed upon hearing this. Yan Xuerui didn't know that her sister's willfulness knew no bounds.
Since Gu Yan had been restored to his post, Zhou Yunshu had become quite favored in the Eastern Palace. The Crown Prince only doted on the Crown Princess and Zhou Yunshu, making Consort Zhou the talk of the town for a time. Yan Xuefang, thinking she had connections, refused to listen to her mother's discipline.
If Yan Mother hadn't intervened in time, Xuefang might have already packed her things and gone to seek refuge with Yunshu.
...
Yan Mother didn't want to trouble Yan Xuerui with these messy matters, but she was also worried about Yan Xuerui's potential divorce from Gu Yan.
"Mother is just a common woman from the marketplace. I don't understand the gossip outside, nor do I want to hear it."
"Rui'er, Mother just wants to ask you. Do you really intend to split up with your husband?"
Ming Lan had made Yan Xuerui doubt herself. Facing her kind mother, Yan Xuerui parted her lips, but the answer she had in her heart wouldn't come out.
"I... I don't know."
In front of Yan Mother, Yan Xuerui showed a hint of helplessness, just like when she was a young girl burying her face in her mother's lap like a child. She murmured, "Mother, I just don't know."
"Alright, alright, it's fine if you don't know. Before Mother opened the shop, I didn't know whether it would profit or lose money. Roads are made by walking—no need to panic."
Yan Mother spoke tenderly. She was old now, and her body couldn't take much more. This farewell might be their last.
Her eldest daughter wasn't her biological child, but she had genuinely cherished her as if she were her own.
"Back then... ah, it was all ill-fated. I know you resent me, but as merchants, how could we dare to defy the nobility? After you left, I stayed in my room thinking it over and over—"
Recalling those days, Yan Mother choked up. "I thought and thought, and being with your husband wasn't entirely a bad thing. You grew into such a heavenly beauty. Unless you hid away forever, no ordinary family could have protected you."
"All these years, people outside have said your husband treated you extremely well, but in your letters home, you rarely mentioned him. Mother has been through it herself—in a marriage, only the couple knows the true dynamics, like drinking water and knowing whether it's warm or cold."
Yan Mother dabbed the corner of her slightly reddened eyes with her sleeve and said, "Look at your father. Outsiders say he's a pretty boy who lives off his wife, but I think he's wonderful. He's handsome, listens to me in everything, and never gets angry no matter how impatient I am. Having him as my companion in this lifetime, I'm content."
Yan Father, who had been unexpectedly brought into the conversation, rubbed his nose and glanced around awkwardly.
Yan Mother smiled and continued, "How you're doing, outsiders don't truly know. Now that you're a thoroughbred, if you feel unhappy and want to split up with your husband, Mother will certainly support you."
"But—Rui'er, don't think Mother is nagging. You've been clever since you were young. When you helped Mother with the accounts as a child, you tracked every penny clearly without a single error."
"The ledger of human feelings is the hardest to settle. You and your husband have been married for nearly twenty years. There are so many strings attached. Has it really... come to this?"