Su Majestad

Capítulo 97

I watched his retreating figure quietly until the end of time.

Chapter 192

However, he eventually turned around, his face and eyes were indifferent, like snowflakes falling on trees, and she still couldn't look directly at his features.

She knew he would be a tree in full bloom in her life, forever planted in the most beautiful years and the darkest, deepest place.

In the place I least want to recall, you are the memory I most want to remember.

That day faded away like snowflakes, serene and tranquil like any other day flowing in the long river of time. She sat upright in her chair, while Yang Luoxue sat beside her, facing the clear sky together.

Qinghe is painting a portrait. Qinghe's exquisite painting skills are renowned throughout the capital.

This was the last thing she had to do before getting married.

She sat there, seemingly for a long time, yet also for only a moment. Yang Luoxue was as quiet as a snowman, not uttering a sound. Her eyes were fixed straight ahead, but she could smell the faint medicinal scent emanating from him, and her fingers seemed to retain the warmth of his hand. The short time they had spent together flowed through her body like water, repeatedly caressing her.

The painting was finally finished. Qinghe said she would frame it as a wedding gift. Only then did she remember that she had the invitation she was going to give to Yang Luoxue.

"Please, divine physician, come at all costs," she said, still smiling as she watched Yang Luoxue take the gift. But for some reason, she felt a pang of sadness and took a breath. She said jokingly, "I'm not wearing red today."

"Mm." Yang Luoxue responded, though it was unclear whether she was responding to the previous or the next sentence, "No matter what clothes the princess wears, she should be beautiful." If there is any regret in life, it is that he didn't even know what she looked like.

However, everyone has regrets in their life, and it's not a big deal.

Before the wedding procession, the Prince of Annan's mansion would hold a grand three-day wedding banquet, a very lively affair. Dolan, her face veiled, couldn't find him amidst the countless voices and figures. Had he come? Or had he not?

The most considerate maid whispered in her ear, "The Divine Physician Yang and Lord Qing are seated together."

A heart, drifting aimlessly, falls to its rightful place, settling there peacefully and calmly, yet with a touch of melancholy. From this day forward, this will be how it is.

Tangzhou is three thousand miles away, and we will never have the chance to meet again.

The painting was placed deep within her dowry, something she thought she would never open. It remained exactly as Qinghe had presented it, wrapped in thin silk and placed in a brocade box. She cherished it like a treasure, a memory of her girlhood, accompanying her to her distant homeland after her marriage.

The royal court had numerous etiquettes that had to be repeated endlessly.

One bow, two bows, three bows, four bows... On the table where she couldn't see, Yang Luoxue stared blankly in the direction of the bride.

The red wedding dress was very beautiful.

To find someone to accompany you through many trials… old age, sorrow, or death. This is perhaps the greatest happiness for a woman in the world. Whether she is a princess living amidst power struggles or a young lady sleeping with a sword.

Every woman deserves this kind of happiness.

She tightened her grip on the wine glass slightly... She deserved this kind of happiness too.

The Emperor ultimately did not survive the winter. The Ninth Prince ascended the throne before the coffin, becoming the Taiyuan Emperor. The Second Prince, Feng Yanliang, was granted the title of Prince Rende, and his consorts received the same honor.

Chapter 193

At that time, Duolan was already in Tangzhou.

Tangzhou is close to Aluo, with a hot and humid climate and very short winters. It feels like spring has arrived in the blink of an eye. Willow catkins are everywhere in the city. When she saw the catkins falling for the first time, she exclaimed, "Eh!" "It's snowing!"

“Silly girl, those are willow catkins,” her husband said softly as he hugged her from behind.

Oh, she forgot, it doesn't snow in Tangzhou.

—The End—

Postscript: A Comprehensive Guide to Treating Draft Cramps

I don't know how to write this epilogue. I didn't want to write it at first, but the thought that all this suffering couldn't be exchanged for sympathy, pity, or gentle caresses felt like a huge loss. So, I rolled up my sleeves and started writing!

—According to left-brain thinking, the epilogue should look like this—

To express my feelings upon finishing this draft, there's only one word: Damn.

Or in four words: to die in peace.

What is a writing block? What is a creative bottleneck? Compared to this piece of writing, they are all child's play! The real state I faced was "complete failure"!

From March to September, for six months, every word in the document seemed to be telling me, "You're doomed." "You're really doomed." "You don't need to write anymore."

But I still finished it (although after typing the last word, I knew there was an even more arduous revision task ahead. Tears.). It's finished, it's finished! What's so scary about death! I was stuck on an 80,000-word stretch for six months; I would have preferred to die, but I stubbornly survived!

They survived even when they were supposed to be "completely destroyed"!

What do you mean, "die"?!

When I finally die, I will go to the King of Hell's palace and shout: "What's so scary about death? I survived six months of mental breakdown! If you're so capable, don't let me reincarnate!"

—According to the right-brain model, it looks like this—

These two stories took about a year to complete.

No, it's not because I'm "polishing" or "striving for perfection" that it takes so long, but because I can't write it.

I was stuck on "The Most Beautiful Spring" for a month, and at that time I thought the worst writer's block could be. Then I wrote "The Song of the Lotus in the Wind" for four months... I think I experienced the most painful test in the world. Finally, I wrote "Hair Like Snow" for six months, and I... only had one breath left to fantasize about never having to make a living by writing again in my next life.

This must have been the most tragic, painful, sorrowful, and devastating period of my life. I repeatedly broke down, seeking comfort and further blows. The only saving grace was that friends were there for me throughout, enduring my breakdowns and antics, comforting, guiding, and encouraging me. I must have borrowed a part of their lives to survive…ORZ…

Another one is Shan Feixue's afterword, which a friend showed to me—I remember when I was working on the "Mogami Haru" card, Hayama Minami also sent me one of her afterwords, which was also about the card draft... Okay, from now on, even if it's just to read the afterword, I'll buy Shan Feixue's books... ==.

—This is what a hybrid left-right brain writing style looks like—