Chapter 85: Lantern Festival

Gray, perhaps, is the tone of the year’s end.

A cold drizzle drifted down like strands of spider silk, clinging to the withered grass scattered across the ground, silent yet tugging at the nerves. The rain threads drew near, then withdrew, again and again.

Seated quietly by the terrace of the Pavilion of Heavenly Grace, half leaning against the railing and half against the chair, she gazed at the somewhat desolate fields in the courtyard.

The charcoal in the brazier burned fiercely, cracking with a sigh as it burned, sending wave after wave of warmth rolling out to flood the body.

The bamboo cup resting on the railing breathed out heat, mingling with the fine rain in a hazy blur.

The fresh ink on the white paper in her hands had not yet dried. As she recalled the events of a few days before, she slowly turned the bamboo pen in her fingers. Lost in thought, she unknowingly slipped into the snare of drowsiness and fell asleep.

After a brief nap, the winter rain had stopped.

She opened her eyes and stood. Her blue skirt slipped from the seat. She took a candied fruit from the porcelain bowl and let its sweetness melt slowly on her tongue. She had already grown used to such a life; all the vexing matters were handled by others. Yet within this very habit there lingered a faint unfamiliarity.

It was a contradictory feeling.

Today was the Lantern Festival, the second Lantern Festival since coming to this age. Wu Yueling silently counted it in her heart.

She quickly opened the wardrobe and adjusted the wooden hangers. Having had the carpenters make several when she had nothing to do, they were now quite convenient for hanging clothes.

"Your Highness!"

Hasty footsteps mingled with a familiar call. Wu Yueling turned her head; as expected, it was Xiaochun who had pushed open the door. She was panting heavily, so this must be something urgent. Could it be that those troublemakers had begun making a fuss again?

"What is it? Look at how worn out you are," she said, going to the round table, lifting a tea bowl and pouring a bowl of warm tea for Xiaochun.

"Your Highness, the Holy One's consort has come, cough—"

Seeing Xiaochun replying while drinking tea, she reminded her, "Finish it before you speak!"

"Ahh, right, Your Highness's foster mother has come. She is waiting in the main hall. Please go see her quickly; we must not keep her waiting."

At the words, Wu Yueling straightened at once. Her foster mother had come, so of course she had to go see her. Though they shared no blood, if she was acknowledged as a foster mother in name, then she was half a mother to her.

"Yes, I should go see her," she said, heading for the door.

"Ah, Your Highness, change your clothes first."

She froze, looked down at the haphazardly wrapped garments on her body, and realized she ought indeed to change. Going to meet her foster mother dressed like this was truly inappropriate and rather disrespectful.

After all, she had studied for so long and finally understood how to be a princess. Fortunately, Xiaochun had reminded her.

Dressing properly took quite some time.

At first she had wanted to hurry over, but Xiaochun had unexpectedly begun shaping her brows. This was called applying dark brow powder.

Seeing the elegant, foreign-style brows in the mirror, she found them difficult to accept and finally declined Hanhong’s offering of rouge and lip color in a tactful way. When paired with this sort of brow style, she simply did not like it.

By now, this was already the third time she had been made up.

Wu Yueling felt that painting the brows dark was not as attractive as drawing delicate ones. Glancing at her reflection, she suddenly thought: if one painted a theatrical face and played the Monkey King, then changed into a golden robe—well, never mind that. Yellow garments could only be worn by her foster father. If one wore gold and silver with a yellow cloak, one might well be mistaken for a rebel. In the end, only a mask would do.

She hurried to the main hall and paid her respects to her foster mother. This young beauty in a pink robe embroidered with golden peonies inspired more than admiration for her appearance; there was also reverence. After all, she was a living one of the Four Great Beauties, the one said to shame even flowers.

Her hair was coiled into an intricate knot, a peach blossom mark rested between her brows, her eyes held a soft, watery sheen, and her slightly full face was just right. Though she lounged lazily on the couch, she still radiated an elegance of the highest order. Her earrings swayed, her pale hand rested on the hairpin, and a trace of allure clung to her before vanishing in an instant, returning again to calm.

Beautiful. Beautiful beyond reproach.

She praised her inwardly.

"Yueling, those goat-milk candies you sent me last time were truly delicious. I came today because I wanted a few more boxes."

Looking at the person before her, Wu Yueling drew her gaze away from the luxurious peonies on the wide pink sleeves. She had never before seen such an otherworldly beauty, and she too had been unsettled by her graceful charm. Only after hearing her speak did she recover and smile gently.

"If Foster Mother likes them, that is enough. I wonder whether Foster Mother uses the toothbrush and toothpaste often?"

"That thing is very useful too. After brushing my teeth, my mouth feels fresh and very comfortable."

Seeing her foster mother smile happily, Wu Yueling guessed she had grown fond of the toothbrush and toothpaste. It was good that she did not resist using such things.

"I have invented a new toothpaste with an orange flavor. I wonder whether Foster Mother likes orange?"

"Orange flavor? Hmm, I do not dislike it. Still, I rather like the sweetness of lychee. When summer comes, I shall have some lychees sent over, and Yueling can make lychee-flavored toothpaste."

Wu Yueling lifted her brows, having not considered that.

There had once been a poem about one galloping ride through red dust and the consort’s smile, while no one knew the fruits were lychees. It seemed her foster mother truly liked lychees. Unfortunately, there were only dried longan pieces at the moment, and she could not find such ingredients at once.

"Mm, so Foster Mother likes lychees. I will make several jars of excellent toothpaste for you then."

"Yueling has gone to so much trouble. Actually, I came today partly to see the fireworks, and also because I have brought a craftsman with me, so he may learn the making of fireworks here at the princess’s residence. That way, I need not trouble Yueling all the time."

Wu Yueling looked at the person her foster mother indicated. Was this old fellow a craftsman? Dressed like a eunuch, she had nearly taken him for one. Still, she nodded. "There are still plenty of fireworks stored in the residence. If Foster Mother likes them, that is all that matters."

"Greetings to Your Highness. This old craftsman is named Sima Dao."

She watched with amusement as the old eunuch greeted her, then slowly nodded and looked back at her foster mother. Suddenly, she felt the hair ornamentation seemed to be missing something. Looking more carefully, she realized it lacked the flowers that should have set it off. It was said that women belonged with flowers, and only when both were cherished could either be worthy.

"Foster Mother, why not place some gold or silver floral ornaments in your hair? At first glance, I feel something is missing."

Having said that, she looked at Yang Yuhuan and saw her gently adjust the coiffure atop her head. A touch of disappointment appeared in her expression; it seemed she was not especially satisfied with such ornaments made of gold and silver.

"Yueling makes a good point. In truth, after wearing these false things for so long, they are not as lovely as real flowers."

"Your makeup also seems not quite complete. Come, let me dress my daughter properly again. A young lady already so clear and lovely should not go without proper adornment."

"If one wishes to win a man’s heart, makeup is the first step. Beyond appearance, there is one’s own cultivation. I know Yueling comes from a village, and lately there have been some malicious rumors in that regard. Foster Mother knows all about it, so you need only be at ease. I shall protect you before the Holy One. Come, come over quickly."

"Oh, all right."

Seeing her foster mother instruct the maid beside her to bring out the cosmetics, Wu Yueling thought, So you old ladies keep this on you at all times?

She obediently approached, but her mind had gone blank. Listening to this, could it be that they were planning to marry her off?

No, absolutely not!

As the saying went, meet force with force, meet water with earth. She could not simply yield to this matter. She had to think of some way out. She would rather die than marry!

Her face was washed again, then coated with grease and cream before being powdered. Her brows were darkened and shaped. Looking at the mirror, she found the result utterly unlike Xiaochun’s handiwork: they were curved brows, like hooks of a crescent moon rising to rest at the corners of the eyes.

Then came the lip color. Her originally pale pink lips turned a vivid crimson. At last she was fully dressed. Wu Yueling found her foster mother’s skill truly masterful, surpassing Xiaochun and Chu’er by several levels at the very least.

"Yes, a girl ought to be beautiful. Yueling looks truly lovely like this!"

Hearing her foster mother tease her, she laughed too and joked lightly, "How could I be as pretty as Foster Mother? You look like an immortal maiden from heaven. Only the king of flowers is worthy of becoming your ornament."

"Then tell me, Yueling, which flower is the king of flowers?"

Wu Yueling was slightly taken aback. She had dug a pit for herself and then jumped into it. Her eyes swept over the golden-threaded peonies on her foster mother’s skirt, and she suddenly thought of the plum blossoms by the wall.

"The peony, I suppose. But I also think the plum blossom is quite fine, noble and proud, unafraid of wind and frost."

"Oh? There are plum blossoms here, Yueling?"

"There are. Are there no plum trees in the palace?"

At that, she saw her foster mother give a soft sigh. It seemed there were none.

"The Emperor likes to stay with the princess, warming himself by the fire and drinking wine. No one accompanies me out to wander the gardens. Though there are plum blossoms to admire, it is truly dull if one goes alone."

"So that is how it is. How about I accompany Foster Mother for a stroll in the gardens and pick a few branches of plum blossoms?"

She took her foster mother’s hand, but still found it a little unnatural. With an awkward smile, she let go again. Speaking of which, this did rather make her look as though she were taking advantage.

But Yang Yuhuan did not mind. She looped her arm through her daughter’s, and her full bosom brushed against her from time to time, making Wu Yueling’s face instantly burn red with embarrassment, terribly ill at ease.

There was nothing for it. She was, after all, someone’s daughter now.

In terms of words, she still had much to learn...