Chapter Thirty-One: The Burden

For the Western Jin Dynasty, the third and fourth years of the Taikang era were truly an eventful period. Joyful news and tragic tidings were intertwined, leaving no room for anyone to catch their breath.

First came a series of favorable reports from the empire’s frontiers. The Inspector of Yangzhou, Zhou Jun, submitted a memorial stating that three years after moving his garrison to Moling, he had finally quelled all rebel forces within the former territory of Eastern Wu. Following this was a report of victory from Liaodong: General Anbei Yan Xun had decisively defeated Murong Shegui at Changli, severing ten thousand heads. Finally, the Grand General of the South, Du Yu, reported that after years of painstaking efforts in Jingzhou, he had successfully excavated a canal several thousand li in length, linking the Xia River with the Yuan and Xiang rivers from Yangkou to Lingling and Guiyang. This not only resolved the Yangtze River’s flood discharge issues but also improved water transport between the north and south of Jingzhou.

The court and the public were naturally overjoyed, declaring that such progress was evidence of a clear-sighted government and a flourishing populace, a reign that future generations would surely call an era of peace. On the other hand, the shadow of factional strife remained, and no one knew when it would end.

At the same time, many of the founding fathers of the dynasty were passing away one after another. In the first month of the third year of Taikang, Chen Qian, the Duke of Gaoping, was laid to rest. In the fourth month, Jia Chong, the Duke of Lujun, succumbed to illness. By the first month of the fourth year of Taikang, Shan Tao—once one of the Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove, Minister of Works, and the Earl of Xinda—also passed away after a long illness. With these, all of the original eight founding dukes of the Western Jin had departed, and there remained almost no other great figures with comparable political weight in the court. For a time, the Emperor issued frequent notices of mourning, the common people donned hempen mourning clothes, and the number of those wailing and paying respects was uncountable, as if the capital were suffering from a perennial snowfall.

Yet, amidst the grief, many were secretly joyful. After all, the passing of the old generation signaled the ascent of the new.

These matters, however, had nothing to do with Liu Xian. He was currently submerged in the grief of his mother’s critical illness. After the Duke of Anle had gone into a frenzy that day, his wife, Zhang Ximiao, had suffered a miscarriage and fallen into a life-threatening state. Had Liu Yao not spent a fortune to bring in the renowned physician Huangfu Hui, she would likely have perished that very day. Even so, it could hardly be said that her life had been saved.

In Huangfu Hui’s private words, he had arrived too late. The lady was not only suffering from blood loss but had also contracted a pestilence. Even with all the knowledge he had acquired in his lifetime, he was powerless to turn the tide and could only manage to delay the inevitable. As for how long she could hold on, it was a matter of doing what one could and leaving the rest to fate.

Upon learning this, Liu Xian felt as if he had been struck by lightning. What could a twelve-year-old child do in the face of such a tragedy? That night, he frantically pored over the books left behind by Chen Shou, hoping to find a legendary elixir of life. However, his teacher had answered him during their first meeting: there are always things in life that mortals cannot understand or resolve. In the end, Liu Xian could only lie blankly amidst the piles of books, gazing at the night sky outside the window. The stars were brilliant, yet he felt with painful clarity that there was no star in that sky that belonged to him.

Three days later, when the young Master Ruan arrived in high spirits for his scheduled visit, he was shocked to find the mansion shrouded in gloom. After inquiring, he learned the full story. The Duke of Anle had disappeared without a trace, and Zhang Ximiao lay bedridden and unconscious—with whom was he to discuss the marriage?

Liu Yao, being the elder brother of the Duke of Anle, heard of this and immediately offered to act as the head of the household to accept the marriage proposal on Liu Xian’s behalf. But Liu Xian wanted to refuse. He said to Liu Yao, "Second Uncle, the reason Father abused Mother was because of this marriage. How can I agree to it now that things have turned out this way? Once the news gets out, there will be no end to the gossip. Let us just forget it."

When Liu Xian spoke, his tone was calm and his expression steady, as if this matter had nothing to do with his own future or happiness, but was entirely for the sake of the mansion. The elders of the family, seeing this, could only praise him inwardly, thinking that after not seeing him for a few years, Piji had become so sensible and knew how to consider the family’s interests.

In truth, however, Liu Xian’s heart was filled with endless regret. He regretted not following his mother to see his father, and he loathed his father for committing such a brutal act. But he loathed himself even more—why, when he had had a premonition, did he sit by and watch the situation develop to this point? He could not forgive himself, nor could he believe that he could ever find happiness. If that was the case, he should not implicate others.

Hearing this response, the young Master Ruan understood his student’s thoughts at once. He exhorted him earnestly:

"Alas, Huaichong, I taught you long ago that there are many such uncontrollable accidents in life.

"It is like trying to catch fish in a river with a short net. When you miss by a hair, you think that if you are just a little more careful next time, you will surely catch one. But in reality? The fish that slipped away has already drifted down the river and will not return, and the fish you are about to catch is an entirely different one.

"One cannot catch a lost fish, nor can one use the experience of the last attempt to deal with the next. All you can do is concentrate and put your full effort into catching each fish you encounter. Even so, there will still be many empty nets. My advice to you is to forget the fish you missed, or you will miss even more."

Whenever he encountered regrets and adversity in the future, Liu Xian would often recall these words of the young Master Ruan and benefit greatly. But at that moment, he could hardly take them in, only stubbornly shaking his head. This was natural; those who are grieving can often only think of their own feelings and find it difficult to grasp the intentions of others. The Duke of Anle was like this, and so was Liu Xian.

If the matter had ended there, Liu Xian might have followed in his father’s footsteps and lived a life so pathetic that it would be beyond description. But fortunately, things had not yet reached the point of no return, and there were still those who could salvage them.

Just as the young Master Ruan was about to leave the Anle Mansion, Zhang Ximiao regained consciousness.

After Chun hurriedly came to report the news, Liu Xian ignored all etiquette and rushed to his mother’s room. The young Master Ruan hesitated for a moment before following slowly; he sensed that this was a pivotal day for his disciple and that he might need to bear witness.

Hearing that his mother had awakened, Liu Xian’s heart was instantly stirred. Huangfu Hui had said that the earliest his mother would wake was in five days, yet she had awakened in three. Did this not mean the physician had misjudged? Perhaps her condition was not as dire as feared, and there was still a possibility of recovery? As long as his mother could be safe and sound, he would be willing to give everything he possessed...

But as he crossed the corridor and the willow grove, arriving at the door, his body began to tremble slightly. If his mother could not truly recover, how would he face her? How would he face his father? Liu Xian took a deep breath, forcing himself to act like a man, purging the unease from his body before striding into the room.

"Is that Piji?" A clear voice came from behind the screen.

"Mother, it is I."

"Come to the bedside."

Liu Xian felt a surge of tension and walked submissively to the bedside. "How is your health, Mother?"

Zhang Ximiao did not answer immediately. She only said in a calm voice, "What a beautiful day! Look over there." Liu Xian looked out the window, where the tender peach blossom buds were gleaming in the bright early spring sunlight, which only made Ximiao’s skin appear as white as ice and snow.

Ximiao murmured, "Lying here like this, I have become the sun, the peach blossoms. It is wonderful!" There were still three yellow leaves on the peach branch reflected in the window, which had not yet fallen. "After spring comes summer, and when autumn ends, it turns to winter. The power of Heaven is truly great."

"Mother, how is your body?"

"My winter is coming to an end. Do you understand?"

"How can that be?!"

"But I must leave some seeds for you; you are still in your spring."

Zhang Ximiao’s gaze was a bit vacant. With a smile, her expression revealed the bone-chilling cold of winter. "I truly wanted to see your wedding with my own eyes, but your wedding is still years away... Piji."

"Mother, I am here."

"I heard from Chun that your father is still nowhere to be found, is he?"

"Yes."

"Your teacher came today, but you want to refuse this marriage, don't you?"

"Yes."

Zhang Ximiao reached out from beneath the cold quilt with difficulty, took her son’s hand, and shook it firmly. "I do not allow you to do so, do you understand?"

Feeling the icy temperature of his mother’s hand, Liu Xian was startled, but then he held back his tears and nodded. "I understand."

But Zhang Ximiao shook her head and said, "No, you do not understand. You do not understand your father, you do not understand your mother, and you do not understand how to treat your own life. You are only eleven years old; how could you possibly understand? There are many things that even if you experience them yourself, you may not necessarily grasp. You cannot understand now."

Zhang Ximiao gripped Liu Xian’s hand tightly and said, word by word, "Therefore, Piji, I hope that no matter whether you understand what I say or not, you will remember it firmly. You must achieve the goal I have set for you. Can you promise me?"

Liu Xian nodded.

"This marriage must be concluded. Regardless of what happens in between, what others say, even if you were to die, it must be concluded. This is an opportunity for happiness and success that you have carved out for yourself; under no circumstances should you let it slip away."

"Yes!"

"Also, do not hate your father."

Hearing this, Liu Xian was stunned. He wanted to agree to his mother immediately, but his father’s bloodshot eyes and the sight of his mother lying in a pool of blood rose before him. His throat felt as if it had been filled with molten iron, and he could not bring himself to say that "Yes."

Zhang Ximiao sighed softly. She did not blame Liu Xian but stroked the back of his hand with her fingers and said again, "I know you hate him right now, but he is your father, and you do not understand him. You really do not need to hate him..."

"But..." Liu Xian looked into his mother’s gentle, water-like eyes and could no longer hold back. "No matter the reason, he had no right to treat you like this! After what he has done, I... I hate him so much I could tear him to pieces!"

"Do not say such foolish things!" Zhang Ximiao struggled to sit up, followed by a fit of coughing that terrified Liu Xian, who took a long time to help her calm down.

"Do not say such foolish things," Zhang Ximiao said as she gently closed her eyes. "Why speak of tearing him to pieces? Does that not make you even more cruel than your father? You must be a righteous and upright man; do not speak of things that only cowards would say, things that can never be realized. If you become that kind of person, I will never be able to rest in peace in the afterlife."

"Yes." Liu Xian could not refute her and could only bow his head and agree.

Neither spoke again, and the room fell silent. Liu Xian gazed at his mother, as if he could hear the breathing and heartbeats of both mother and son. He wished this moment could last forever, but soon this illusion was shattered by the sound of the young Master Ruan’s wooden clogs tapping outside the door.

The young Master Ruan asked from outside, "Huaichong, may I come in?"

Before Liu Xian could answer, Zhang Ximiao had already opened her eyes. She said, "Please invite your teacher in."

Liu Xian hurriedly rose, led his teacher in, arranged a seat for him in front of the screen, and waited for their conversation.

The young Master Ruan did not mince words, asking directly, "Madam, I have come to discuss Huaichong’s marriage. What is your opinion..."

Zhang Ximiao did not hesitate at all, answering straight away, "Everything shall be as the young Master Ruan arranges. Thank you for your trouble."

The young Master Ruan nodded and said, "Very well."

Zhang Ximiao turned her head and, with a gaze as resolute as a man’s, said to Liu Xian by the screen, "Piji, from now on, no matter what the young Master Ruan teaches or says, you must learn and act accordingly. He is like your father, and his kin are like your brothers. Do you understand?"

The meaning of this was clear: she wanted Liu Xian to take Ruan Xian as his foster father. This was an excessive request, not only requiring Ruan Xian to take responsibility for Liu Xian, with whom he had no blood ties, but also requiring Liu Xian to promise to take responsibility for the future of the Ruan clan of Chenliu. Simply put, she wanted the two families to form a blood pact.

This turn of events caught Liu Xian off guard. Having just experienced such a traumatic upheaval, his mind was not yet settled, and his mother was already asking him to bear such a heavy responsibility. For a moment, his mind was a blank. Liu Xian looked toward his teacher, seeking his opinion, but the young Master Ruan smiled. He winked at Liu Xian, stroked his beard, and laughed, "For a genius like Huaichong, I have long regarded him as my own child."

"Then I am most grateful."

"The gratitude is mine."

With that, the young Master Ruan rose, bowed to the screen, and turned to leave with an air of natural grace.

Zhang Ximiao and the young Master Ruan had never met; they knew each other only through Liu Xian’s descriptions. Yet, at this moment, they seemed to share a tacit understanding, as if they were old acquaintances. Without idle pleasantries or formal farewells, they had conducted an exchange in just a few sentences that would change the fates of both their families.

After this exchange, Zhang Ximiao closed her eyes again and let out a long sigh, as if she had set down a heavy burden. When she opened them again, the incredible, resolute spirit she had displayed vanished entirely.

She beckoned to him once more, took hold of Liu Xian’s arm, and asked with a smile, "Is it strange? Why I made such arrangements?"

"Mother did it to take care of me..."

"Of course not. You have grown up and can take care of yourself; you do not need others to care for you. By entrusting you to the young Master Ruan, I am actually adding a burden to you."

"A burden..."

"Yes, a burden. In the past, you only needed to be the good child in my eyes and answer to me, but I had no demands of you. From now on, you must answer for yourself—not just for yourself, but for the mansion, for the young Master Ruan, for the Duke of Juancheng, and in the future, for many more people."

"When you were born, I wanted you to live a life without worry, so I named you Piji." Zhang Ximiao stroked her son’s face with tenderness and pride, explaining, "But in front of your father, I finally realized one truth: the heavier the burdens in life, the better. Endurance and responsibility can make a person grow into an adult quickly... It was because he had no burdens from childhood that he collapsed so suddenly when the weight finally arrived."

As she spoke, nostalgia appeared in Ximiao’s eyes. She slowed her speech and said to Liu Xian, "Remember what I said before I came here? I told you not to hate your father. I also said I would tell you what happened in Chengdu twenty years ago."

Liu Xian felt a sense of awe for his mother; he had never known she possessed such a philosophical side, leaving him only able to repeat, "Yes."

"That was a very cruel burden, one that no mortal could bear. It completely crushed your father, which is why I never wanted to speak of it. But today, I do not want you to hate him. He was wrong, but he was not born that way. Do you understand?"

Liu Xian looked at his mother in silence, waiting for her to continue.

"Then let me start from the beginning..." Zhang Ximiao gazed at the peach blossom buds outside the window, and for a moment, it seemed as if she could hear the cry of the partridges in Chengdu.