Imperial Weight Chapter 29
Translated by Sylver (ko-fi)
Chapter 29
For now, Xingyi didn't tell Little Phoenix about his plan to move away from Jiangling. He felt that it wouldn't be too late to tell him once everything was settled.
Little Phoenix thought everything about Jiangling was fine, but this place held memories he disliked, and it was far too quiet. He loved all things bustling, jubilant, lively, and prosperous. Once Xingyi had taken care of everything, he could follow his beloved husband elsewhere and start a brand new life—completely casting off the gossip, strange looks, and daily adherence to strict propriety.
They spent a wonderful Mid-Autumn Festival together at home.
The young city lord's military advisor indeed sent over mooncakes—all different varieties, and they tasted quite good. Little Phoenix loved the snow-skin ones. He sent someone to ask for the recipe, learned to make a few boxes himself, and every evening he would bring them out to eat with Xingyi as they sat together in the courtyard.
Xingyi said, "I never used to celebrate Mid-Autumn Festival."
Little Phoenix nestled in his arms, lying with him on the daybed, squinting his eyes to look at the moon. Hearing this, he turned to ask Xingyi, "If you didn't celebrate Mid-Autumn, then what did you do?"
Xingyi recalled, "This time last year I was still in Northern Zhao, and the years before that I was fighting wars. I don't remember my childhood. Back then, there were only two children in the palace—me and His Majesty. I'm his blood brother, but from childhood he was sent to the Eastern Palace to be raised, and I had a mansion built for me in the capital, so we couldn't see each other very often. For the Mid-Autumn reunion banquets, the palace would hold feasts and I attended a few times, but imperial banquets are always quite dull."
As he spoke, Little Phoenix peeled off a small piece of snow-skin mooncake to feed him, and Xingyi would occasionally pause to sip some tea.
Little Phoenix asked again, "So, Weijian, what were your father and mother like? Your father was the emperor, and your mother was originally a noble consort and is now empress. Are they like the legends say—like immortal beings?"
Xingyi laughed, "Do you think I look like an immortal?"
Little Phoenix looked at him without the slightest hesitation and nodded firmly.
Xingyi rubbed his head. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, you."
He felt he was just the most ordinary type of person. His parents were also very ordinary people.
Back then in the palace, when his mother gave birth to him, she was just an ordinary concubine, not even a noble consort yet. At that time, the emperor and empress were deeply in love. The former empress stood alone and supreme in the rear palace, the model of womanly virtue for all under heaven. It was said she was extremely beautiful, with an exceptionally strong and intelligent character. She established the Hall of Literature and Ink in the palace, could ride and shoot, sing and dance—a woman like a wandering heroine, deeply cherished by the former emperor. The first prince she bore was the true legitimate eldest son—clever and bright from childhood, composed and alert. Unfortunately, the former empress later fell ill and died, and the first prince died young as well. Mother and son were buried together in the same coffin, and the former emperor was despondent for nearly seven years because of this.
During those seven years, his mother gave birth to him and his younger brother, and her rank was elevated to imperial noble consort, equal to a vice-empress. Afterward, the various palace consorts also had children, but the princesses and princes died young one after another. Only a few survived, and those were all mediocre in talent, unable to shoulder great responsibility.
Seeing loyal ministers memorializing about establishing an heir, the former emperor was mentally and physically exhausted. Finally, he issued an edict establishing the child the imperial noble consort had just given birth to as crown prince—the current young emperor.
As for Xingyi, when his mother gave birth to him she nearly died from hemorrhaging, so she never paid much attention to him. The former emperor actually quite liked him, but was always dissatisfied with his lazy temperament. After much consideration, he still let him leave the palace.
Xingyi was actually happy to be free. They say that in the imperial family, one must be ruler and subject before parent and child—and he had always carried out this principle very well. At royal family banquets, he was so aloof he seemed not to be of imperial blood. Everyone else scrambled to curry favor, but he alone remained consistently indifferent.
Yet the more indifferent he was, the more the former emperor liked him, often summoning him to the palace to play chess and drink. "If Zhao'er had lived to your age, his temperament would surely be the same as yours. He too was quiet from childhood, taking after his mother, but his character was extremely steady and resolute."
Lin Zhao was the name of that departed first prince, his eldest brother who would forever remain five years old.
Xingyi smiled faintly. "You're right."
Later the former emperor passed away. Xingyi was twenty-five, his younger brother fourteen. The slender young man donned dragon robes and became this dynasty's youngest emperor, while Xingyi fought on battlefields to stabilize the realm for him.
The first year, the young emperor summoned him to the palace for intimate conversations, affectionately calling him elder brother.
The second year, the young emperor no longer received him privately. He would have audience together with other officials, and the young man on the throne had acquired a stern, harsh aura and profound imposing presence—that exhausting feeling was so oppressive one could barely breathe.
The third year, Xingyi went out to war and returned victorious. By year's end he had also resolved the northern famine problem. Common people along the way lined the roads to see him off—his reputation was unmatched. After he entered the capital, the way the young emperor looked at him was already vastly different from before.
Gradually, he stopped returning to the capital, focusing on military affairs, his temperament growing even more lazy. Several important ministers in the capital with daughters all intended to send their daughters to his mansion—Xingyi declined them all. He was too lazy to spend effort investigating which families genuinely wanted to curry favor with him and which ones had received the young emperor's instructions to come win him over and control him.
He just felt exhausted.
That retired old general suggested, "Since you're unwilling to marry those proper young ladies from good families, you must love the wild, spirited type instead—speaking of which, Your Highness, do you truly love young ladies? Could you be cut-slee..."
Xingyi froze, his heart stirring slightly.
Cut-sleeve.
This reason might well be the best reason he could give right now.
So he imitated those dissolute young masters and went to a pleasure house. With just one glance, his gaze swept over the elegant names on the roster, without the slightest hesitation. "This one."
He only wanted the top courtesan. He was accustomed to hiding his edge, but this didn't mean he would abandon the pride that had long dwelled deep in his bones.
And so he met his Little Phoenix.
On the Mid-Autumn Festival of the sixth year, he and his Little Phoenix lay side by side on the daybed watching the moon.
The young man beside him listened quietly to his tales of the past, then suddenly reached out a hand and grasped his. "This is just right. Before, no one accompanied me for Mid-Autumn, and you had no one to spend Mid-Autumn with either. Now we're two people—not just Mid-Autumn, but from now on New Year's, Lantern Festival, Dragon Boat Festival... all these holidays, we'll have someone to celebrate together."
Little Phoenix chattered away listing a whole string of holidays. Xingyi listened with a smile while quietly gazing at the moon in the sky.
This year's moon was especially dim. For some unknown reason, though it was clearly a clear day in mid-month, it was as dark as the moonless sky on a rainy day, and it seemed to have been dark for many days already.
Little Phoenix was also looking up at the sky with him.
After a moment, Xingyi suddenly heard him ask, "Weijian, do you think—if we mortals have our fortunes and misfortunes written by the Star Lord of Fate in the underworld, then who controls the destinies of immortals?"
Xingyi turned his head to look at him. "Why do you suddenly think to ask this?"
Little Phoenix said, "Look, the moon is very dark. Perhaps Chang'e and the Jade Rabbit are sad, or maybe they've encountered some trouble."
Xingyi actually didn't believe in ghosts, spirits, and such mystical things. Legends and myths were bedtime stories for children—just listen and be done with it. He said with faint derision, "I don't know either. But since they're immortals, they surely have ways to resolve it. Next year's moon will surely brighten again."
—---
Xingyi was a man of action. He enthusiastically crafted a breathable round wicker ball, slightly larger than Little Phoenix, then brought this freely expandable thing to show Little Phoenix, threatening, "If you still get up before the hour of Mao every day to sing, or if you do bad things, I'll lock you in here. Solitary confinement, understand?"
Little Phoenix, who had been thrown back into the water, climbed back onto the table, then sat all night on the threshold of the weapons room watching him tinker with this thing. When Xingyi finished work and returned to the sleeping quarters, he also felt sore and achy, so with a plop he transformed back into his little bird form and flew to Xingyi's side.
Little Phoenix expressed doubt. "But even if I go inside this thing, it still can't stop me from singing."
Xingyi tapped his little head. "It looks like a hollow wicker ball, but it can actually produce a sound-isolating barrier. Making it hollow means you won't be suffocated."
Little Phoenix felt very wronged. "But I don't deliberately wake you up. I just want to remind you to attend court. The saying goes that bitter advice is good for one's conduct—husband, you should listen to me sing more. Otherwise, if you just keep lying still like this, one day you'll really be old. Look, you're already not-wor..."
Xingyi lay down on the bed and reached out to grab Little Phoenix and hold him up, gazing at him seriously. "Yuan Yuan, say those two words again, and the next moment you'll be roasted phoenix."
Little Phoenix quickly shut his mouth.
Xingyi decided to reclaim a bit of dignity in Little Phoenix's eyes. "Understand? Although I am old, having lived for tens of thousands of years, I will never be like those two words you said."
Little Phoenix protested, "You're not old! You're not old at all—you're still going to marry me!"
Xingyi pinched his little claws, stroking his soft little belly, tilting his head. "Old is old—nothing wrong with admitting it. Do you want to see what I look like when I'm old?"
Little Phoenix resolutely turned his head to one side. "No!"
Xingyi turned him back around, lightly tapped with his finger, then said, "Open your eyes and look, Little Phoenix."
His loose, jet-black long hair had now transformed into pure white with a hint of warm light—aside from this, there was no other change. Little Phoenix was held in place and forced to look, then immediately burst into tears. "I don't want to look! Change back, wuuuuuuu."
Phoenix tears condensed into dark red crystals with reddish-gold, pattering down. The little bird frantically wiped at his tears with his small wings, choking out, "You're not old, you're not old... I won't allow you to be old."
Xingyi watched him cry so pitifully and froze for a moment.
He felt that once again things had deviated from his expectations.
Just like last time when he worried Little Phoenix wasn't eating and insisted on using lianshi fruit to tempt the dieting Little Phoenix—Little Phoenix had also suddenly been made to cry by him then. He didn't quite understand why Little Phoenix was crying, yet he seemed to vaguely grasp something.
He had made his little bird cry again.
Xingyi wiped away Little Phoenix's tears with his finger, coaxing gently, "Don't cry anymore, I'll change back right now. Look, even without changing back, my face doesn't age—it's just that my hair color is different."
Little Phoenix blew a snot bubble. "I don't want to—don't want to see your hair turn white. I won't allow you to grow old."
Xingyi had no choice but to take back his words. "It's fine, look—where am I old? I'm heartless, so naturally I won't experience birth, old age, sickness, and death. I'm an ancient war god—unhurt, indestructible, unaging, undying. Understand, Little Phoenix?"
Originally he wanted to say he was silly, and wanted to tease this foolish little round ball with a bit of mischief like before. But at this moment, looking at Little Phoenix's tearful little appearance, even that place in his chest that had never stirred now rippled with an extremely faint trace of pain.
A pain both sour and sweet.
He had originally wanted to say, "I'm an immortal, and so are you, so neither of us will grow old." Yet, as if possessed by spirits, what came out instead was another sentence:
"I am Emperor Fuli Yuanshi, born together with heaven, earth, and all things. You will be my empress, sharing life and death with me. We will be together forever—neither of us will leave the other first. Is that good, my little Yuan Yuan?"
He lowered his eyes and gently poked him.
