328 All Exists

Chapter 328: All Exists

Translator: Nyoi-Bo StudioEditor: Nyoi-Bo Studio

As the ruler of a country, there was much to take care of. It was impossible for the Emperor to pause for long in this remote place in the palace. Not sure exactly which part of the country was having problems, the Taiji Palace's head eunuch braved great danger to come to the tower. He bitterly announced himself many times before finally succeeding in entreating the Emperor to come downstairs.

Seeing that Commissioner Fan was standing behind the Emperor, the head eunuch cried bitterly in his heart. No wonder the Emperor couldn't be found anywhere in the palace. It turned out father and son were playing through the drama of getting to know each other with tears, and he had rashly interrupted them. If the Emperor became unhappy, who knew how many floggings he would have to suffer?

The Emperor's coloring did not look good. Of all his sons, the one he liked the most was, of course, Fan Xian. After entering the capital, Fan Xian had earned him, and the entire Qing Kingdom, much glory and honor. Furthermore, he was personable, intelligent, and suitable for powerful positions.

Also considering he had saved the third prince in the Hanging Temple and his ongoing denial of it, it was clear that beneath this child's relaxed expression was a loyal heart. His seemingly-cruel methods were full of intention to neutralize the situation.

In the heart of this middle-aged Emperor, had he not felt a thread of illogical jealousy when they'd first met? The Emperor was only a mortal, after all. And now, he could get to know Fan Xian. Although Fan Xian had yet to completely open up, that kind of atmosphere was enough to make the Emperor happy—and someone had interrupted. Naturally, he was no longer feeling all that happy.

There were now too many people inside and outside the tower, and the more people, the more talk. So the Emperor could not say anymore. Turning around, his frosty face gradually softened. Watching Fan Xian's beautiful—and slightly familiar—face, he said quietly, "Like I said earlier: as the ruler of a country, there are too many things I must do. Think about this, and don't hold too much resentment in your heart."

Given the Emperor's status, he didn't have to humble his attitude that much—even faced with his own son. These words, although not expressing an apology, expressed enough substance. Fan Xian did not dare to carry on acting. He bowed deeply, already moved.

Suddenly the Emperor furrowed his brows and remembered his sister far away in Xinyang. He couldn't help another flash of a headache and sighed, "Recently, the capital has not been silent. There are too many things being brought to the surface that can't be discussed. Chen Pingping is worried that it will be awkward for you to be at court, and suggests that you head down to Jiangnan. What do you think?"

Fan Xian didn't dare to have an opinion; an advantageous glint flashed through his eyes quickly and he slowly said, "I obey." He suddenly smiled warmly and said, "It's just that I've never been to Jiangnan. I hope Your Majesty will give me some advice about what needs attention."

The Emperor shook his head. "What I need is a clean treasury that can earn silver for the court year after year. As to how to do it, you should know. I very admire the things you have done these last two months.

He was obviously talking about the Overwatch Council arresting the Cui family and dealing with the palace treasury smuggling problem.

The Emperor continued, "Only… because of these things, you have made a lot of enemies in court. Somethings I can't… hm, you did well." In the Emperor's eyes, Fan Xian spared no effort in attacking Xinyang and the second prince. He had been acting for the court, helping the Emperor deal with matters that were inconvenient for him to act on directly.

After Fan Xian thought silently for a while, he opened his mouth to say, "From today onwards, I am still willing to be Your Majesty's disgraced minister."

The Emperor was satisfied with Fan Xian's declaration. Waiting for this opportunity, Fan Xian opened his mouth to say, "Only, the road to Jiangnan is long, and although I have the power of the commissioner, I am not familiar with matters concerning trade. If various affairs are led by the Council, I'm afraid things won't be go well… Your Majesty, I…" He faced the Emperor, gritted his teeth and said, "I want to borrow Qingyu Hall."

The Emperor paused, and was silent for a moment before saying, "Naturally, the shopkeepers of Qingyu Hall are familiar with matters concerning the palace treasury. However, by court regulations, they're not to leave the capital…" He suddenly felt that it was not right to say these things in front of Fan Xian. He coughed and said, "An Zhi, are you not afraid I will doubt you if you ask me so directly?"

Fan Xian answered straightforwardly, "The expansive earth is all the Emperor's. Since I asked you in person, I clearly believe that Your Majesty trusts in my loyalty."

The Emperor stared at him, his thoughts going round and round quickly in his mind. Back then, the Ye family had been well-established and flourished greatly. They could have destabilized the state system. As the ruler of a country, he really was terrified of history repeating itself of that night. The Fan Xian in front of him was her son. It would be understandable for him to seek vengeance for the lost Ye family.

But he thought about it from another perspective. Since Fan Xian dared to break taboo to ask this, it counted as being candid. He opened his mouth and lightly said, "Since you now stand high enough, you know that the so-called true gold and silver are not actually that useful. As for the palace treasury, I decided six years ago to let you manage it when you grew up, and I kept… that idea. This is what I wanted. Why would I have any doubts?"

Fan Xian appeared to be moved, yet the Emperor waved and mockingly smiled. "But don't you think you can fool me. Although the calculations for the palace treasury are numerous and complicated, they don't need the people from Qingyu Hall. I think you want to scoop them out of the capital with your request."

Fan Xian did not argue. "I don't dare to conceal with from you," he sighed dejectedly, "I did have that idea. From the day I learned of my past, I've had this idea. Last year, I actually visited Qingyu Hall. Those shopkeepers been held for many years in the capital… it really was very awkward. These people are not yet 50. If we release them from the capital, they could work for the court."

Last year he had gone to Qingyu hall, and knew that this matter would one day be used by someone. So he decided to bring it up today with the Emperor first.

The Emperor seemed caught off guard by his calm. After a moment, he finally nodded.

Fan Xian was overjoyed. The Emperor laughed in spite of himself and said, "But you can't take them all. Each manor's family business is managed by Qingyu Hall. If you take them all away, I'm afraid that King Jing would be the first to hunt you down."

Fan Xian chuckled, and the Emperor smiled slightly. "...A few among them, Princes who dare to stand straight and speak to me. On the contrary, his temperament is excessively steady and fierce, not like you—" He broke off, then said, "Upstairs in the side room, there is a painting… go have a look in a moment."

Although he knew very well that the painting was in the palace, Fan Xian still revealed a hesitant expression, asking, "What painting?"

The Emperor replied, "The only likeness your mother left in this world…" Thinking of Xiao Yezi, his gaze softened and he said quietly, "You've never seen her. Take a good look in a moment… speaking of which, you really look nothing like your mother."

Fan Xian was startled and heard the Emperor sigh again. "Although beautiful beyond comparison, her personality was excessively different. She was just like a man, and refused to paint her eyebrows. Otherwise, she wouldn't have had that name. Back then, she hated that so-called song the most, and could only practise doing so."

Remembering that his son in front of him was the most popular poet in the world, the Emperor suddenly found this matter to be amusing. He laughed and pointed to Fan Xian. "Although her poem had the power to swallow the wind and the clouds, it lacked her emotion. It was very different from yours…very different."

Hong Zhu looked at the eunuch's anxious and urgent gaze, and heard the Emperor talking happily with Sir Fan junior—how could he dare interrupt?

Fan Xian smiled and asked curiously, "Mother's… poetry. Has Your Majesty heard it before?"

"Only one." The Emperor leisurely recalled the past, and recited in a clear voice:

"The northern view: all the land is under ice, snow travels far and wide. Inside and outside the palace walls, only a vast expanse of white. Yellow River from tail to head has come to rest. Mountains are silver snakes in flight. Plateaus are white running elephants, they seem to rival the sky. Wait until the day is clear and fine. Watch for the girl dressed in white, what a fascinating sight. The nation is charming and fine, for it countless heroes are willing to die.

"It's a pity that Ying of Qin and Wu of Han lacked literary talents; Taizong of Tang and Taizu of Song also lacked literary excellence. A proud Son of Heaven, Genghis Ximan, could only shoot bows and arrows. The past is gone to find heroes. Look only in this dynasty."

Ying of Qin and Wu of Han? Taizong of Tang and Taizu of Song? Fan Xian's expression was very excited; so much so that he almost pulled a muscle.

The Emperor looked at him in disapproval and chided, "Do you think this poem is bad?"

Fan Xian set his face and said, "It is very imposing. Only, I don't know who Wu of Han, Taizong of Tang, and Taizu of Song are." He silently though, Mom, if you're going to change things, then change them more completely. What Ximan Khan… I surrender to you.

The Emperor explained, "According to legend, they were a generation of three great rulers before the ages."

Fan Xian was speechless, and thought, Turns out Mother's way of dodging difficult question was much like my own. Much like my conversation with Zhuang Mohan in Shangjing, Northern Qi, whenever there was something that was difficult to explain, I pushed it to the time before the ages. As something I once saw in a history book. And where was the history book? Sorry, I tore it up to use as toilet paper.

The eunuch entreated again, and the Emperor finally left the little tower. As he left, his thin shadow showed no trace of sentimentality.

…

…

Only Fan Xian and Hong Zhu were left in the little tower, watching the Emperor's figure disappear into the layers of frost-covered branches and Fan Xian finally couldn't hold back any more. He held his stomach and burst into laughter; his laughter rang through the little tower and was filled with unspeakable delight.

Hong Zhu stood to one side and was shocked. He wondered if Fan Xian had been overly-excited by the events of today, and whether or not he should go find a royal doctor to check on him.

After a long time, Fan Xian finally stopped the wild laughter brought about by that poem "Qin Yuan Chun." His stomach hurt and he was a bit short of breath as he spoke to Hong Zhu. "Everything's fine. I'll go up by myself. You wait for me here."

As he walked up the stairs, Fan Xian still felt the urge to laugh. That woman, Ye Qingmei, had truly been remarkable. Of all the tens of thousands of poems that could be copied, she had to pick this one. He suspected that her hand had been forced by Fan Jian, the Emperor and those people… However, perhaps that poem by Chairman Mao actually just matched her style?

Once he reached the top of the stairs, Fan Xian's smile had already been completed restrained and he had recovered his usual calm. Placed in a feudal dynasty, the poem his mother copied was truly the antithesis of everything. The Emperor could say it, but she could not. No wonder, in the end, she had clashed so strongly against this palace.

He gave a cold laugh in his heart, and tossed all of the Emperor's true feelings to the back of this head, and stopped thinking of them.

…

…

Arriving outside the side room, he picked up the cup of cold tea on the table in passing. He pushed open the door and stepped in, without hesitating or shaking at all. He calmly stood in front of the painting.

In the painting was a woman in a yellow dress, with a surging river in the background. The woman stood on a piece of limestone near the riverbank, her dress was floating in the wind, and she was facing towards the river. The muddy waves reached to the sky and the stone was turning into sand. On the opposite shore, ant-sized workers could be faintly be seen moving around rocks and shore. Perhaps those people were building up the riverbank.

The work of this painting was exquisite. The brush strokes were fine but the style was imposing and majestic, achieving grandness through meticulousness. No matter if it was the serious scene on across the riverbank or the complicated greens and yellows of the rocks closer to the front, they were all done well. Particularly the river trapped in place between the two mountains, the heavy swell and white-crested waves were imposing and forceful. Observing this picture, the viewer was almost able to feel the strong river breeze blowing from the picture and onto their face. Standing a bit closer, it seemed possible to hear the river slapping excitedly against the riverbanks.

But none of this was the focus on this painting. Any person lucky enough to view this painting, would, at the first moment, be drawn to that woman in a yellow dress standing beside the banks. They would not have any attention left to spare to look at the other people and scenery in the painting.

The woman in the yellow dress only revealed her profile. A few black threads of hair beside her crystal and jade earrings floated in the wind and her red lips were lightly pursed. She seemed to be thinking of something. The thing that most drew the attention were her eyebrows. Her eyebrows were sharp as a sword, unlike those of frail woman, yet they also did not have any sense of masculinity. They were simply clear and thin, and were likeable without reason.

But at this moment, Fan Xian's gaze was focused on the glimpse of the woman's eye that could been seen on her partially turned face. The spirit in that gaze seemed calm, yet also as if it were hiding many other emotions.

In just an instant, he remembered that Xiao En had once described his mother to him in a cave on the precipice of Xi Mountain outside of Shangjing. Yes, it was this kind of gaze! Soft, sad, full of love and longing for life, full of anticipation of the good things, sympathy for misery, and a confidence in the ability to change all of this.

Fan Xian sighed and slowly sat down, staring the painting on the wall. He didn't move his gaze for a long time, as if he wanted to carve this woman's image into his heart.

With the cold tea in his hands, and the old painting before him, he sat like this in silence. He didn't know how long he had sat there for; he didn't notice the shifting light outside the tower nor the movements of the wind and clouds.

…

…

The cold tea in his hands remained full. Fan Xian sat there for half a day, and his lips were a little dry. Suddenly, he tilted his head and spoke quietly to the woman in the yellow dress. "You did well. It's a pity… you didn't look after yourself."

He paused, and seemed a little nervous. He wanted to collect his thoughts into something appropriate to say to the woman in the painting.

"Of course, I haven't done as well as you—but I want to assure you, I will look after myself." He stood up and peacefully stared at the painting. In a light voice, he said, "I'll leave you here for now, I don't think he would let me take you. But I will come to see you in a few days—I'll see you often." He didn't know how long a few days would be.

Fan Xian leaned closer to the painting and suddenly smiled brightly. In high spirits he smiled. "The past is gone… the past is gone. To find a hero, let me do it."

After saying this, he walked out.

Silence descended on the room.

…

…

The room door suddenly squeaked as it was hurriedly pushed open. Fan Xian had returned and once again and stood in the room staring at the woman in the painting. He suddenly opened his mouth and asked:

"The sciences?

"Female doctorate?"

Of course the woman in the painting from so many years ago could not answer her son's question, and so could only remain silent. Fan Xian felt his heart twist, and he laughed aloud to hide the wetness in his eyes. Earnestly and sincerely he bowed and spoke:

"Thank you."

And then he truly left. The woman in the painting did not turn around, she only stared at the scene across the river in silence, with her back facing the door. Who knew how long it would be before the door opened again?