The Lonely City Closed

Chapter 118

The emperor understood his meaning and was both shocked and furious: "You want to smash your head in remonstrance?"

He suddenly stood up, but in his anger and frustration, he pressed his chest, a pained expression on his face, and then slumped back into the chair.

At this moment, Sima Guang had placed his turban neatly on the ground in front of him, stood up, and stared directly at the palace pillar to his left...

It all happened in the blink of an eye. Everyone in the hall, including myself, had no time to react. In our astonishment, we just stared at Sima Guang, not yet realizing what action we should take to stop him. At that moment, a woman's voice came from outside the hall: "Scholar Sima."

In the silence of the moment, the call was particularly clear. Everyone immediately looked up, and Sima Guang, surprised, also stopped his steps and looked back towards the outside of the hall.

Like everyone else, I was surprised to discover that it was a princess.

She was still wearing the white silk undergarment she wore when she was ill, with a wide-sleeved outer garment of pale green brocade over it, and a thin, misty blue gauze robe on top. Her long hair was loose and untied, and her face was bare, without any trace of makeup, as if she had just run out while getting ready.

Her face bore traces of lingering tears, suggesting she had shed many tears recently, yet she showed no trace of sorrow. Her cold, indifferent eyes fixed on Sima Guang as she approached step by step, a mocking smile playing on her lips.

When she reached Sima Guang, she slowly raised her right hand, which had been hanging down, and her sleeves flowed away from her wrist, revealing a foot-tall wooden puppet suspended in silk.

The puppet appeared to be a woman, dressed in a green gauze dress similar in color to the princess's clothes, with a flower crown on her head and a mask covering her face. She had a pink face, red lips, and inverted eyebrows, and her makeup was very delicate.

Facing Sima Guang's bewildered gaze, the princess smiled faintly, picked up the puppet, and manipulated its strings with both hands, making it dance. She herself swayed her sleeves lightly, moving gracefully, her movements elegant, like a dancer. At the same time, she parted her lips slightly and began to sing a poem: "Her hair loosely tied, her makeup lightly applied. A light mist shrouds her, like drifting catkins and floating silk threads..."

Upon hearing the lyrics, Sima Guang's expression changed drastically. He frowned and stared intently at the princess, feeling both annoyed and embarrassed.

Judging from the meaning of the words, the first stanza of "Xi Jiang Yue" describes a beautiful young woman in a light green dress, dancing gracefully to the tune of sheng and musing. The princess's actions are an imitation of this scene.

Considering the second half of the poem that the princess has not yet sung, the woman in the poem is unlikely to be Sima Guang's wife. If she did exist, she was probably a singer or dancer. In that case, the scholar Sima Guang must have had a tender and romantic relationship in his youth.

Presumably, the ministers also knew the origin of this phrase, and they began to whisper among themselves, some even smiling slightly, casting mocking glances at Sima Guang.

The princess, still wearing that cold smile, manipulated the puppets while continuing to chant in a weak, thread-like voice: "It's better not to meet than to meet, better to be indifferent than to have feelings..."

When the song reached the word "heartless," perhaps intentionally by the princess, the puppet first lowered its head once, then suddenly raised it, thus removing its flower crown and mask. The puppet's true appearance caused many onlookers to gasp in surprise—sunken eyes and bared teeth, and its head was actually a wooden skull!

With a slight flutter of her green sleeves and flowing black hair, the princess smiled gently, gracefully dancing and singing as she manipulated the suspended threads. The puppet's movements grew increasingly exaggerated, and layers of her ethereal dance costumes gradually unfurled, silently slipping off the puppet's body. What was revealed to everyone, as I expected, was a row of ribs...

This puppet was originally designed to resemble a skeleton, with proportions identical to a human, only scaled down. So this was the "different" wooden puppet she wanted Cui Bai to make; no wonder Jiaqingzi was hesitant to show it to me earlier.

"After the music and singing have ended and the wine has just worn off, the moon slants over the deep courtyard and all is quiet..." The princess's singing voice echoed in the spacious and silent hall. After finishing the song, she pressed the melody again and sang it once more.

Her starry eyes were slightly hazy as she danced, her steps swaying, moving in unison with the skeleton she manipulated. Her face was pale, her eyes sunken, and beneath her wide sleeves lay only a skeletal frame, making her look not much different from the wooden puppets she controlled.

The crowd watched as she sang and danced with a nonchalant smile, no one uttering a word to stop her. They simply stared at her with wide, horrified expressions, as if they had seen a beautiful ghost.

As Sima Guang watched the skeleton dance unfold in this eerie atmosphere, the sharp look in his eyes gradually faded. He listened intently to the princess's delicate singing voice, then finally let out a sigh and silently lowered his initially proud head.

The Lonely City Closed (The Princess Who Fell in Love with a Eunuch) Long smoke and setting sun, the lonely city closed, no leisure.

Chapter word count: 3911 Update time: 09-07-05 10:47

Wu Yi

(3498 words)

The clear song had not yet faded, mingling with the blue smoke exhaled by the golden lions on either side, filling the hall. The princess, oblivious to her surroundings, danced with the puppets, her wide sleeves fluttering, her slender figure swaying like a willow in the breeze. Those around her seemed frozen in place by the two layers of crimson, withered bones, listening intently to her cold, delicate verses, watching her alluring yet graceful figure, her ethereal beauty like a distant spring mountain, as she turned and glanced back, letting a wisp of incense smoke drift across her pale, pear-blossom-like face.

The emperor on the throne repeatedly covered his face with his sleeve and even called out to the princess in a trembling voice, "Wei Rou..." But the princess seemed not to hear him and continued dancing. What finally interrupted her was an exclamation from one of the emperor's close attendants: "Your Majesty!"

The princess's dance steps faltered, her sleeves drooping as she stared blankly in the direction of her father. The emperor, however, lay to one side, his head drooping limply, as if he had fainted.

The princess loosened her grip, and the skeleton puppet slumped to the ground. She rushed to him, took his hand, and called out "Father" repeatedly.

But the Emperor did not reply. I quickly stepped forward and, together with the other eunuchs, helped him up. I saw that his eyes were closed, his brows were furrowed, and there were traces of tears sliding down the corners of his eyes.

Back in the palace, the imperial physician diagnosed the Emperor with excessive worry and anxiety over the past few days. His health had not been very good in recent years. The princess's unfortunate marriage and the issue of choosing an heir were two heavy burdens on his mind. Recently, the princess had been getting into trouble frequently, and the weight on his heart had been piling up little by little, finally bringing him to the brink of collapse.

The princess insisted on staying by her father's side, even though she herself was extremely weak. When the emperor awoke, his first words to her were, "What are you doing here? Go back and rest."

He maintained a gentle expression towards her, not mentioning a word about what had happened in the main hall, only repeatedly urging her to go back and rest. Finally, the princess left in tears. I followed her out, and as I reached the door, I couldn't help but look back. I saw the Emperor watching his daughter go, the smile he had shown her earlier still lingering, but with an indescribable sadness in his eyes.

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Two days later was the anniversary of the death of the late Emperor Zhenzong. Although the current emperor was unwell, he still forced himself to preside over the ceremonies and accept the condolences from his ministers. After all the ceremonies were over in the evening, he went alone to the Tianzhang Pavilion, which housed Emperor Zhenzong's calligraphy. He ordered the eunuchs in the pavilion to leave and locked himself alone in the shadow hall of the Tianzhang Pavilion, where Emperor Zhenzong's portrait was enshrined.

A moment later, a heart-wrenching cry came from the Shadow Palace, so sorrowful that it moved all who heard it. Several eunuchs rushed into the inner palace to report the news. Upon hearing this, Consort Miao and the princess immediately went to Tianzhang Pavilion.

In the past twenty years, I have seen the current emperor shed tears many times, but such a loud weeping is unheard of. If his grief and suffering had not reached their extreme, he, as the supreme ruler of the country, would never have lost his composure like this.

Hearing her father's cries, the princess grew increasingly anxious and went forward to knock on the palace door with both hands, calling out to her father, but there was no response from inside; all that could be heard was the Emperor's mournful weeping.

"Father, is it something about your daughter that makes you sad? Are you angry with your daughter?" the princess asked anxiously.

Still no one answered.

The princess, at a loss, knelt before the entrance to the Shadow Palace, tears streaming down her face. Father and daughter, one inside and one outside, each burdened with their own thoughts, yet both shared the same sorrow. Consort Miao's words of comfort had no effect; instead, they only intensified the princess's grief. Sobbing, she kowtowed towards the palace, repeatedly calling out in a pleading tone, "Father, Father..."

"Let him be alone for a while." The Queen walked slowly to the princess's side and said to her, "Your father has been depressed for a long time, it's good that he can cry now."

The princess looked at the empress with teary eyes, turned to pay her respects, but the empress stopped her, bent down to wipe away the tears on her face with a silk handkerchief, and then asked her gently, "Wei Rou, may I speak with you?"

The princess nodded, and sobbed, "What teachings does Mother have for me?"

The Empress took her hand and helped her up. She told Consort Miao that she would take the princess to the pavilion to talk, and that the servants did not need to follow. Consort Miao agreed and told the princess and servants to stay. I also stopped, but the Empress turned back to look at me and said, "Huaiji, you come too."

The princess followed the empress upstairs, still worried about her father's condition. She walked to the railing and peered down anxiously. Seeing this, the empress went over to her and said, "Don't worry, your father will be fine. He is a responsible emperor; he knows the responsibilities he bears and will take care of himself."

The princess lowered her head sadly. The queen then took her hand and led her to sit down in the pavilion. She studied her for a moment, then softly asked, "Wei Rou, do you know the meaning of your name?"