Princess Agents - 特工皇妃楚喬傳
Chapter 186: The Winds of Yan are Coming
For a moment, Chu Qiao thought she had seen Yan Xun again. (TN: *whispers* ummm…. maybe because it’s him, yo….)
Not a single thread of moonlight was seen outside; only the whistling, snow laden wind was outside, blowing onto people’s faces like ice cold blades. The man stood there wrapped in a cloak that only revealed a pair of deep, penetrating eyes, fixedly watching her through layers of snowfall. The candles in the room were extinguished instantly when the door had opened, and only faint flashes of glimmering snow reflected in the heavy night, making the obscure figure even more oppressive.
It seemed a long time had passed, and yet it could have only been a moment. The man slowly lifted his foot, lowering his head slightly, a faint hint of tiredness seeping through his step. A rail thin, gnarled hand reached for his mouth and he coughed softly.
Someone closed the door and the three of them stood within the narrow and cramped mourning hall looking rather cramped. The hunched-back retainer dressed in black deftly reignited the candles inside, and the faint light slowly illuminated all around. They cast light upon the man’s white hair underneath his hood as well as the wrinkled hands beneath the sleeves of his robe.
The chair Chu Qiao had used to keep the door closed was wiped clean by the servant. The man sat down as he coughed, body bent, and it was faintly apparent how frail and feeble the body was beneath the clothes.
Chu Qiao continued to stand there, as she did from the moment they came in, and said nothing. She even had some doubts as to why this kind of ill and frail person would cause her to be so alarmed, to the point that she even thought it was Yan Xun.
The servant retreated, and stood beside the door. His whole body was hidden in the shadow of the firelight, lowered his head and acted like he was a voiceless stone.
The dim light gently cast down, and the wind flowed in from the missing tiles in the roof. It moaned as it blew, and the blinking candlelight looked as if they would blow out at any moment.
The man suddenly lifted his head, his pair of deep, black eyes watching her, unexpectedly saying, “The snow storm tonight is really big.”
Chu Qiao was startled. For reasons unknown she felt a trace of unspeakable tension when facing this person. It was as if there was a steady stream of low key oppression emitting from his person, gradually filling the entire room. (TN: face palm) Even his breathing became low.
“True. It is indeed big,” she nodded, speaking quietly.
“It’s been so many years since we’ve had such a big snow.” His voice revealed an unconcealed hoary and tired timbre, suggesting he was quite aged. “It seems fifteen years ago there was also such big snowstorm. In from of the Fu Yin Gate, even the old pagoda tree was blown down.”
Fifteen years ago….
That was the same year the House of Yan fell. In that bitter cold winter they withdrew to a dilapidated building in the southern part of the city. They had to burn everything within, or else be covered in frostbite.
“Was this year’s Lantern Festival lively?”
The person asked this question quite naturally, as if they were old friends who had known one another for a long time.
Chu Qiao tilted her head slightly, saying, “Heaven is uncooperative, disturbing a rather good festival. Grandfather, did you come to see the lanterns, only to have the snow drive you in here as well?”
He laughed slightly, saying, “With this kind of body, where would I have the energy to see the lanterns?”
Chu Qiao raised her brows slightly, and asked in a low voice, “Then mister, did you come here especially to visit His Highness?”
Even though she could not see his face, Chu Qiao still imagine his silent smile.
Suddenly, the sound of a long, drawn out bell and drums reverberated from the distance. It was the watchman’s chime for the 18th hour of the Lantern Festival, just atop TianCheng Tower of the palace. Operated by Qin Tianjian and a renown monk, it oversaw the recitation of scripture to Buddha and the burning of incense. They prayed for favorable weather next year, that the country be prosperous and that its people live in peace.
Chu Qiao slowly turned her head in the direction of the sound, a little lost in thought.
“This place is so bleak, and you are a girl alone in such a place. Are you not afraid?”
Chu Qiao turned to look at the old man. Those who could so easily come into this place without alerting Yue Thirteen and the others were uncommon. In her heart she tried to filter out those who were able to come to this place at a time like this, but she was unable to come up with anyone in particular. Unavoidably, it was all the more doubtful. But she did not let her expression show it, and only lightly smiled in reply, “If your heart is benevolent, there is nothing to fear. Compared to the hearts of people, the so-called ghosts and ghouls are more kind-hearted by leaps and bounds.”
“A benevolent heart?” The old man’s intonation slowly rose, and he quietly smiled, “In this world, how many can really live up to those words?”
“As long as I feel that I can live up to them, then it is enough.” Chu Qiao stood up in place, her long, snow white robes beautiful and elegant in the light, her face smooth and clean, with a halo of white, she quietly said, “There are those who spend a lifetime as an honest official, faithful to gods and king, without taking an ounce from the people, and with clean hands, they are magnanimous for a lifetime. There are those who live their entire lives attempting nothing and accomplishing nothing, scraping a meager living to support their families, yet they have never broken the law, and in their hearts they have no remorse, and no debts. They too are worthy of those two words. Whether peace resides in the heart (TN: 心之所安 a heart at peace with everything) is decided by oneself, and is not based on achievement.” (TN: Yes, Chu Qiao seems to take up the mantle of a Buddhist philosopher here, but also, I think she is trying to explain to Yan Xun to let it go…. I remember the scene with her in front of the two-faced Yan Goddess on the mountain. One with the face of war stood in her choice to remain with him, and the other face of the mother at peace stood in the direction of Zhuge Yue. I see the symbolism now and how her personality has flipped)
The old man raised his brows slightly. A gust of wind wound the ash along the floor and it fluttered down onto the hem of his cloak. He sank deep in thought for a short while, and then slowly smiled, saying, “What you say is reasonable.”
“It is such a big snow storm outside. Elder, you’ve come here in the middle of the night, perhaps something disturbs your heart?”
“I am old, it is inevitably easy to ponder on things past in this fleeting life.”
A wild wind swelled and in an instant it blew open the chamber doors, and all the candles in the room were suddenly extinguished. The servant was startled. Even though he was already advanced in age, his hands were quite nimble, and in no time he closed the door and lit an oil lamp.
The old man raised his line of sight, staring at the row of dark coffins in the deep blackness. His smile was restrained, and waved his hand, “This is fine.”
The chamber was very quiet, and one could only hear the sound of the wind howling above the roof. Eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness all around. Through the glistening snow outside, one could already see the indistinct figures of people outside.
The elder removed his cloak and said, “He probably just doesn’t want to see me.” (TN: I think he is making a reference here to someone resting in one of the coffins)
“I’ve brought wine, come have a cup with me.”
Without waiting for Chu Qiao to respond, the old servant came forward and spread a sturdy silk cloth on the floor, placing two wine cups on it with a shining, white, translucent jade pot that slightly glowed. In the darkness. The cups were filled and the wine’s fragrance permeated. The old servant offered a cup of wine to Chu Qiao. Chu Qiao sniffed it and said, “This is qing nu jiao, wine from Qing Qiu.” (TN: 青女娇 qing nu jiao literally means lovely green/young and innocent girl.)
The old man smiled and praised, “Your nose is quite sharp.”
Chu Qiao smiled, “My tolerance for spirits isn’t anything to brag about, but the ability to smell wine is my expertise.”
As soon as she said it, she took a silver needle from her hair and plunged it into the cup. (TN: silver detects most poisons by turning color) A short while after extracting it, sniffed once in between breaths, and only then did she relax and drank down the wine, praising it. “Indeed it is good wine.”
The old man saw how she had so overtly tested the wine for poison in front of his face, yet he was not affronted. Instead, he said with great interest, “Lend your needle to me.”
Chu Qiao was slightly stunned, and asked, “Do you not feel at ease drinking the wine that you yourself had brought?”
“There is no harm in being a little careful.”
The old man did as Chu Qiao had done, and swept the silver hair pin into the cup. From the folds of robe he retrieved a match book and after lighting it he looked into the cup for a long while, and only after that did he raise his head to drink.
Chu Qiao laughed, “When you do it like that, you are actually more insecure.”
The old man was slightly astonished, and asked, “Why?”
“Not all poisons corrode silver. Moreover, in the process of handing you my hairpin, there are many other ways of administering poison. Even if poison is not used, being so close to me, aren’t you afraid that I could be an assassin?”
The old man looked at her without a trace of being alarmed, and asked her in earnest, “So are you?”
“If I said I wasn’t, would you believe me?”
The old man frowned, as if he was really considering it, and after a while he finally said, “I would not really believe it.”
Chu Qiao laughed aloud, “That’s right. The farmer wishes to eat chicken tonight, so he will not kill the pig, but that doesn’t mean he will not kill the pig tomorrow.”
“Are you comparing me to a pig?”
“No, no,” Chu Qiao shook her head. “A man like you is 1/3 wolf, 1/3 snake; for the other part, it would do well not to inquire.”
The old man smiled and asked the old servant by the door, “See the mouth on this girl, it is comparable to the hundred poison darts of the You Shi Tribe.”
The old man seemed to be happy, and sat with Chu Qiao in a relaxed manner while drinking wine. Outside, the snow storm was getting stronger and stronger. Chu Qiao pulled a chair over, wiped it clean and sat down, and drank cup after cup of wine with him. (TN: This scene is reminiscent of a few chapters back. Chu Qiao now gets to drink with an old friend/frienemy, just as Zhuge Yue did with his. Zhuge Yue is probably having a fit right now since she’s missing…. ^_^;) It was a veil of darkness all around, but for the few shafts of light coming from the roof.
The wine had a tempting aroma; just in the first taste, one was lured into taking a second sip. Thought it was not poisoned, drinking too much would lead to being intoxicated. Without knowing how much time had passed, Chu Qiao’s head gradually became dizzy, she leaned into the chair, her arm on the armrest supported her head, and slowly she closed her eyes. She conversed with the old man quite a bit, or not at all, and it seemed they had discussed much, but gradually she forgot it. Her heart was tranquil, as if wide swaths of snow white waves swept across it, layers upon layers, gently brushing over her white fingers and cheeks.
It was like she had returned to the time of her childhood, methodically teaching her the Tai Zu Zhang form of martial arts, teaching her hand-to-hand field combat, and teaching her how to recognize hidden traps. He taught her how to use a variety of weapons and daggers, and took the chairman’s quotes and had her recite them over and over. (TN: she was raised in fictional Communist China, and in reality, Chairman Mao was known to be a literate scholar and wrote many essays and philosophies on Communism and men. His real-life opponent was General Chiang Kai Shek who lost the war and retreated to Taiwan. But the general was also a renown philosopher and wrote treatises on government and men. So, depending on how you were raised, as a pro-Communist native or a banished ex-patriot, you would either know quotes from Chairman Mao, or from General Chiang. My parents memorized the general’s quotes as children. I am not certain if the author here is serious when she describes Chu Qiao’s upbringing, or if she’s being tongue-in-cheek about how rigid it was and whether it’s actually a veiled jab at Communism. After all, it was because of her rigidity, she followed Yan Xun for so many years and didn’t know how to express what she wanted with Zhuge Yue.) Early every morning, she would stand under the party flag and swear her allegiance. She was only a few years old at the time, but she had felt quite dignified and solemn as she stood behind her old and tough grandfather as he said loudly over and over again, “Loyalty to the Chairman, loyalty to the Party, loyalty to the people, and sacrifice your life for your people and your country if need be….”
Then the image changed, and in came the picture of a deep, freezing palace. An enormous moon shone on the tops of their heads, and the boy stood stubbornly before her, so angry that he bit his lip as he looked at her new hairpin, spitefully silent. She had been so scared that she hurriedly removed the hairpin, and nervously cried out to him that it was the thirteenth prince who had given it to her, and she didn’t like it one bit. After a long while, she watched as he archly revealed an ugly hairpin in his fist, as if he had polished the copper strip himself. It was bare; without any decoration. His fingers were a bit raw, and a few were already bleeding and wrapped in rags.
Then, a pair of fox-like eyes emerged from the waves, and a man dressed in red brocade robes sat in a water pavilion and exaggerated a sigh. A group of girls dressed in multi-colored dress surrounded him. His eyes were mesmerized, as if he had drank two jugs of Red Girl wine. (TN: if you’ve ever watched kung fu costume dramas, it seems everyone drank this wine (nǚ’ér hóng) in the ancient days ^_^;) He noticed her from afar and suddenly stood up, waving wildly at her as he said, “Qiao Qiao! Qiao Qiao! Hurry up and come here—”
And then, the picture changed, and the sky filled with gleaming sunlight reflected on waves. Ring after ring of smoke and mist hung above the old road. Light and shadow came down in torrents, fluttering and voluminous, as if drifting through the long length of a lifetime, turning into that haughty and aloof, but handsome, man. Again, it was the lantern festival of three years ago. He was in a fit of pique with himself because she did not want to go with him to Qing Hai. Breathing heavily with rage he walked in front, ignoring her completely, but not before yelling at her and calling her a blind idiot. (TN: When did this happen…? ^_^; I don’t remember translating this scene) Angry, she picked up a clump of dirt clod, throwing it from behind and it happened to just hit him on the head. He was so angry his face went livid as he turned around and glared at her ferociously. (TN: sorry, I LOL’d here and had to stop typing for a bit)
Then, on a swaying boat, the two of them embraced amid the countless, thin and delicate strands of rain. He murmured by her ear, “I’m so happy, I’ve never been so happy….”
Just then, a childish voice echoed in her ear, “In the end, he died, and he also died, and she was left alone and heartbroken, so she left, and in the end she died, leaving only him to remain.” (TN: O_o wtf?)
So it was, so it was. She was dreaming. Li Ce had already died, killed by the hand of his own mother, dying in her arms. She had seen a large expanse of red blood blossoming from his chest and touched his ice cold body and closed eyes. (TN: literal translation of 紧闭的眼帘, the curtains of his eyes securely shut) He leaned on her shoulder and died, never again to laugh and call out her name, never again to reach out and touch her cheek, never to sneak into her bedroom at night again and sift through the letters Zhuge Yue had written to her. He was never again to look at her gently whenever she was going through a tough time, hold her close, and then say, “Don’t fret, don’t fear. You still have me, you still have Zhuge Fourth. Even if it’s that bastard Yan Xun, he wouldn’t really harm you.” (TN: …thinking back on the rain of arrows that nearly killed her….)
Between heaven and earth was the boundless and indistinct north wind, a large snowfall dyed red descended from heaven, and Zhuge Yue faced Yan Xun on a desert plain. She saw thousands of people’s souls floating in the heavens, she heard the earth’s lamentation, and she heard the wind’s mourning. She saw the sky was cracked, with dense, deep red blood slowly seeping through the crevice and flowing onto the badly mangled ground. She saw Zhuge Yue fall, his back split open. It was the would that she had pierced in him so many years ago, but pierced with a deep, cold arrow through his body. She saw in Yan Xun’s hand was the 3-foot blood bow, standing atop countless bloody corpses. Thousands of arrows shot out, making a sheet of deep black that covered heaven and earth, and he stood at the pinnacle of the world. Endless red liquid seeped beneath his feet and his body was pierced with arrows but he did not fall. (TN: holy cow, this is some messed up, traumatic and violent dream)
Thousands upon thousands of troops and horses swept through, and all the visions were broken. A wolf’s saber shred the map of the continent to pieces and she was again kneeling on the ice sheet of Qianzhang Lake, watching the world collapse in an instant, his voice whispering beside her ear over and over:
Keep on living, keep on living, keep on living—
Her tears poured forth in streams, across her pointed chin, dripping into the folds of her snow white cloak.
The old man stood in front of her, the smile that had just been on his face vanished, his expression became indifferent and lonely. He turned his head towards the old servant and asked, “Is it her?”
The old hunched back servant, always in his humble appearance, said softly, “It is she.”
The old man slowly smiled, but there was no trace of mirth in his eyes, “Who’d have though we would meet again in a place like this?”
The old servant slightly raised himself, but said not a word. The old man muttered to himself for a long time, and suddenly reached out his finger and swept it across Chu Qiao’s cheek, and touched an ice cold remnant of her tears. He was instantly shocked and placed his finger in his mouth, his tongue slowly tasting the saltiness.
“Anfu, do people cry when they drink yellow millet wine?”
The chamber was dim. The old slave did not see that the girl sitting in the chair was quietly crying. He quickly lit a candle and leaned in front of Chu Qiao to look carefully. For a moment, he was also shocked.
The teardrops fell in a row, rolling silently like a broken string of pearls. Anfu’s voice was laced with astonishment, and after a long moment, he slowly said, “This slave has never heard it said that there were people who drank yellow millet and cried. This woman presumably has much pain in her heart.”
After saying this, An Fu slightly frowned, as if he was puzzled.
“With such an honorable status, what cause would there be for such pain?”
The old man heard this and slightly smiled, and said lightly, “The more you think you have caught happiness, the more you fear that you will lose it one day. This is a child’s heart. I’m afraid not even she can control that fear.”
“Your Highness, the hour is late. We should return.”
The old man nodded, donned his cloak, and walked to the door but suddenly turned his head around, and focused on the coffins placed there. “Shi Cheng, how many years more do you think DaXia can be blessed with its throne?”
The cold wind blew over. His silhouette looked frail and he suddenly coughed a few times. As he laughed lightly he opened the chamber doors, and like that, he left.
A single cup of lamp oil remained lit, emitting a pale light, swaying countlessly, but stayed unextinguished.
The lady dressed in white leaned against the back of the chair, slightly rubbed her head, the tears flowing down in rows, quietly; tranquil like lake water.
Without knowing how much time had passed, there was someone beside her speaking. She frowned slightly as the lantern shone like moonlight, glaring to her eyes. Mei Xiang’s voice reached her ears, saying in a lively voice, “She’s awake, she’s awake, thank goodness.”
Chu Qiao frowned as she saw it was only Mei Xiang standing by her side. Huan’er lifted a lantern and stood on the other side, and both of them looked nervously at her.
“Miss, what happened to you?”
Chu Qiao looked all around, any trace of the old man long gone. Understandably she was a little out of sorts, she casually said, “Nothing. I only carelessly fell asleep.”
Mei Xian instantly protested, “It’s so cold here, how could you possibly have fallen asleep here, Miss?”
“I think the mistress is too tired. The snowstorm outside has already lessened. Let’s hurry up and return to the manor.”
The group ascended the carriage; Rong’er continued to sleep soundly and Mo’er was also relaxed in Jing Jing’s arms, unable to keep his eyes open.
A blizzard had broken up and dispersed the lantern festival. All along the road back, she saw tattered pieces of lantern everywhere, and the streets were empty and desolate. She opened the carriage curtain to look out into the distance, only to see the chill had settled everywhere. Not a single light was lit, and only the white lantern of the temple remained intact, unknown to anyone as to how it had survived the blizzard. (TN: White lanterns are hung in funeral homes and temples of the dead. FYI it is considered unlucky to light a plain, white lantern in your home.)
It was already late at night when they returned to the manor. Yue Liu (TN: 6th Moon) stood guard at the front door, and as they came into view, quite a few of the guards gave out a collective sigh. They stepped forward to say Zhuge Yue had returned early, and had gone out in search of her several times.
Chu Qiao hurried inside, into the main hall, removed her cloak for the servants, and walked gingerly into the bed chamber. Returning from such a chilly place to her home, warm air rushed to greet her. The incense burner let out a pleasant fragrance, curling vertically, spiraling upward. The chamber was quiet, without a single sound. She quietly walked over only to see that his face was slightly flushed, reclining like that, still dressed in his clothes, but sound asleep. Only, his brow was held in a tight frown, as if something in his dream had made him quite angry. (TN: maybe he is dreaming that Yan Xun actually touched her… ^_^;;)
His breathing was heavy and there was the scent of strong alcohol in the air. His capacity for alcohol had never really been that good. This night he must have drank a lot of wine in order to sleep so soundly.
On the mahogany bedpost hung an exquisite and small lantern, with red eyes, long ears; it was a remarkably true to life rabbit. (TN: awwww….)
She took off her shoes and lay beside him like that. Inhaling the scent of his body, and listening to his low breathing, her frozen heart gradually became warm again.
She reached out a hand and wrapped her arm around his waist, driving away that despairing dream.
No, absolutely not.
They would be together, live a good life, they will have a child, and together they will leave this place, and start a new life somewhere else.
It must be like this. It must. (TN: jeez, when you say it ominously like that…. I will hurl this MacBook across the room if it turns out badly.)
***
—Summary—
After the spring banquet, DaXia’s demise became more apparent. The refugees of the west were now everywhere. People were selling their children and wives despite the disaster relief. But DaXia’s wars were already bleeding the coffers dry.
The days in Yan Bei were just as dismal. Even though their heist had saved the people through the winter, their circumstances were difficult, preventing any large-scale war at the border in the interim.
Both countries seemed at a stand still.
In March, the emperor gave Zhao Che the lands of the Northern Hu. Though everyone knew Zhao Che was the warden of the north, that title was never officially sealed. Also in March, Zhuge Yue’s house arrest finally ended and the Minister of War rejoined the court.
A report from Yan Bei gave Chu Qiao great concern. There was word that Yan Bei wanted to trade with DaXia. DaXia also needed horses and iron ore, but they had other trading partners, and laughed off the request. Seeing that their enemy’s situation was even more dire than their own, the court of DaXia became more arrogant, and there were scattered calls to wipe out Yan Bei once and for all. There were even requests from the distant relations of the royal family sent to Zhuge Yue to take action.
Zhuge Yue just sat back and watched the rogues of all kinds running wild with their suggestions, and could not help but sneer at them. Behind their backs he ridiculed them and noted that Yan Xun’s tactics were not very clever, but it seemed to do the trick. With just a few words, he sent the emperor’s entire government into a frenzy.
When he said this, Chu Qiao became terrified. Zhuge Yue was someone who already thought many layers above and beyond ordinary people, and he knew that Yan Xun wanted to lure DaXia in for a fight. Having lived with him for many years, she knew it was not in Yan Xun’s nature to show weakness to the enemy but she wondered if it was really worth it to Yan Xun to sacrifice his country’s well being to do this.
—End Summary—
Winter gave way to Spring, and another year brought forth Spring flowers to blossom, but the sinister, slanting cold wind slowly resisted; pushing the window open, the unchanging ice was still visible.
