49. The Mother in My Memories

As the oriole's song lingered in the air, Yan'er began to dance gracefully. Clad in a gown of rose-pink, her sleeves fluttered with the breeze, her supple waist spun midair before she descended slowly, like a vivid blossom about to wilt—a sight that drew out heartfelt sympathy from all who watched.

Pin'er, matching the melody and Yan'er's movements, played the zither with fluctuating tones, softly singing a melancholy tale of a woman's sorrowful love. At the last bow and prostration, the music ended.

The great hall fell silent. The young woman continued to hum the tune gently, as if she were the last remnant of autumn, fading quietly into oblivion.

Yan'er rose slowly and knelt at the center of the hall, waiting for the Emperor to speak.

Pin'er was the first to recover from the performance and exclaimed, "Yan'er, your dance was truly beautiful!" Realizing the inappropriateness of her outburst, she immediately knelt down. "Your Majesty, forgive this maid for her lapse in decorum."

Emperor Jing stared at Yan'er, momentarily stunned. What remarkable talent this woman possessed! He hardly heard Pin'er's words as he descended from the dais to help Yan'er up. "Who would have thought that at such a young age, you could be so enchanting?" he said, his fingers tracing lightly across Yan'er's palm.

Such flirtation did not escape Pan Yueyang's notice. He fixed Yan'er with a stern gaze. "Your Majesty, this lowly concubine is with child. That dance must have been exhausting. Allow me to take her to rest." Without waiting for a reply, he swept Yan'er into his arms and led her back to their seats.

In the rear hall, Ou Ruolan stood half-concealed behind the threshold, her fingers tightly gripping a string of beads. Yan'er! That little vixen! Not only had she charmed her future husband into such affection, but she had also bewitched her own father, the Emperor! Wretch!

"Why let yourself be so angered?" Mu Qianxue, who had been watching the drama unfold, smiled as she reached out to rest her jade hand atop the beads.

Ou Ruolan glanced at the woman touching her hand. She had no fondness for Mu Qianxue whatsoever. If not for her father's obsession with hidden treasures, she would never have agreed to marry Pan Yueyang alongside this woman. She knew little of Pan Yueyang, only that he was young, accomplished, and held the title of General Who Guards the Nation. She'd stolen a few glances at him and found herself content enough—he was handsome, but it was not love; after all, they barely knew each other. Yet she was a princess, a princess elevated above all others—how could she accept sharing a husband with so many women, especially with someone of Mu Qianxue's noble birth? In their world, this was the greatest of humiliations.

"I am above losing my composure over such a lowly woman," Ou Ruolan replied, turning to display the regal bearing of a princess.

"But you seem rather vexed," Mu Qianxue said, covering her mouth as she laughed at the Third Princess.

"Hmph." Ou Ruolan turned away, unwilling to show weakness before an outsider—those two wretches were no match for her, so why disgrace herself here?

"My dear Ruolan, I actually have a suggestion," Mu Qianxue continued, her gaze still fixed on the grand hall. She knew Ou Ruolan would not leave after hearing this. Sure enough...

"Oh?" Ou Ruolan turned back, feigning interest.

Mu Qianxue lowered her eyes and smiled darkly. "This Yan'er, emboldened by favor, dares to offend the dignity of the royal house before your father the Emperor. Ruolan, what punishment do you think such a criminal deserves?" Mu Qianxue cast a triumphant glance toward Yan'er.

"How do you propose we begin?" For the moment, the two women had formed a temporary alliance.

Mu Qianxue drew Ruolan closer and whispered something in her ear. Ruolan broke into a self-satisfied smile.

"To think you could be so ruthless, Sister," Ruolan said, playing with her hair as she shot Yan'er a look. Yan'er, just wait for your doom!

Mu Qianxue smiled. "Dear sister, I'm feeling rather tired. I'll retire to rest." With that, she left immediately—now was the perfect time to let Ruolan contemplate the plan. If she stayed longer, Ruolan might suspect her motives. When it came to the contest for a man, there was no better stage than the imperial palace—how amusing.

The banquet dragged on for some time. Yan'er paid little heed to the festivities, but Pin'er's constant concern forced her to endure the lavish evening. At last, as the night drew to a close, Pan Yueyang led her and Pin'er to the carriage for their return.

"Yan'er, you truly surprised me today," Pan Yueyang remarked, having gained a new understanding of her that night.

"I'm tired," Yan'er replied coldly, lifting the corner of the carriage curtain. There was nothing to see outside in the dark, but it was still more soothing than facing Pan Yueyang.

Two days later—

The General's Mansion was festooned with lanterns and banners. The old Emperor had acted with astonishing speed; in just two days, everything for the Third Princess's wedding was ready. Pan Yueyang laughed bitterly at himself—he felt more and more like a bird in a cage: he had wings, yet was forced to submit to others' will. "Yunji, call Feng He here."

Upon receiving the order, Shan Yunji hurried off to fetch Feng He. Neither knew what the general wanted, save that it concerned Lady Yan'er.

"General."

"How has Yan'er been lately?" Since the palace banquet, he hadn't seen her—he'd been busy with the wedding, and every attempt to visit her had been met with deliberate avoidance.

"My lord, the lady is as she always was," Feng He replied honestly. Since their return from Yuecheng, the lady had been cool and indifferent to all matters.

"Very well, you may go." He could not get any answers from Feng He, nor could he understand why this woman treated him so. Had he spoiled her too much?

"General, the ceremonial robe has arrived. Will you try it on?" The steward announced as he entered.

"Hmm." If that woman didn't appreciate his efforts, there was no need to concern himself with her.

The day slipped away in a blur of preparations. By dusk, tomorrow's wedding loomed, but Pan Yueyang felt no joy. Alone, he took a jug of wine and climbed onto the roof, following Bai Li Mubai's example, drinking away his sorrows. Once upon a time, he wouldn't have understood such behavior; now, he did. It was loneliness.

"General!" Before nightfall, Shan Yunji ran to Yunlu Courtyard to wake Pan Yueyang. The master bedroom had long since become Lady Yan'er's quarters; since returning from Yuecheng, the general had either stayed with Lady Pin'er or slept in the study. Tonight, there was no sign of him in the study, nor in Qiuyi Courtyard. Shan Yunji was about to turn the entire mansion upside down when he glanced up—there was the general, asleep on the study roof!

"Quick, get a ladder and wake the general," Shan Yunji called. Receiving no response, he decided to climb up himself. Today was the general's wedding, after all.

"Get lost!" Pan Yueyang opened bloodshot eyes, his unshaven face showing a hint of stubble. He sat, disheveled, on the rooftop.

Shan Yunji waved the servants away, thinking it best not to provoke the general further, since the wedding party would not depart until evening.

"Yanger!" Pan Zhongtian's booming voice called out to his son, who was still sprawled across the roof.

"Leave me be!" Pan Yueyang grumbled, closing his eyes again.

Pan Zhongtian leaped onto the roof, seized his son with a powerful hand, and hurled him to the ground.

Shan Yunji's heart nearly stopped—surely a fall from that height would put anyone in bed for weeks! But though Pan Yueyang was still somewhat drunk, his reflexes had not abandoned him; he twisted in the air and landed safely after two quick somersaults.

"Is this the behavior of a Pan?" Pan Zhongtian scolded. Marrying a princess should have been a cause for celebration, yet his son seemed utterly without ambition, besotted by that sorceress.

"I know my fault, Father. I'll go to the ancestral hall now," Pan Yueyang replied with obvious deference, bowing his head. He still held some fear of his father.

"Hmph!" Pan Zhongtian ignored him and walked away.

The servants all pretended not to notice, heads bowed, each busy with their own tasks; it was best not to acknowledge the master's disgrace.

Kneeling in the ancestral hall, Pan Yueyang gazed at the tablets of his forebears. Mother... It had been years since he uttered that word. He looked at his mother's memorial tablet—Madam Guan.

If she had lived, would he have been spared a childhood spent on the mountain, far from his kin, molded by his father into a killing instrument?

"That's enough, Yueyang. Offer your incense and pay respects," Pan Zhongtian said, already standing.

"Father never held Mother in his heart," Pan Yueyang murmured as he lit the incense. If not for his own military achievements, his mother's spirit tablet would never have been placed in the Pan family shrine. How ridiculous.

"It's nearly noon. Go prepare," Pan Zhongtian replied, dismissing him. Yueyang's birth mother had always been a mistake in his eyes—he'd long since forgotten her.

Pan Yueyang wiped his mother's tablet. It bore only her surname, not even a given name. He remembered her dimly, recalling her bustling about the kitchen, smiling gently, teaching him how to stoke the fire. Whenever he coveted foods he'd never tasted, she always held him, apologizing over and over. Together, they washed the dishes in cold water, yet little Yueyang's heart was warm. He didn't remember when he started working in the servants' quarters with her, but she took him everywhere until, at eight, she passed away. Only then did his father truly acknowledge his existence, turning him into a tool—training in martial arts, killing on the battlefield—win at all costs, never lose.

With a thud, Pan Yueyang knelt and knocked his head three times against the floor, lips pressed tight.

By the time the two generals returned, it was already noon. The servants had finished their tasks, and everything was ready for the new Lady, the princess.

At dusk, Pan Yueyang, dressed in his wedding finery, mounted his white horse and led his retinue to the palace to collect his bride.

Feng He watched the general depart, then hurried back to Yan'er's room. The day before, Yan'er had moved out of Yunlu Courtyard to make way for the new Lady. She and Feng He had been assigned to the quieter, smaller Spring Chill Pavilion. Feng He rushed inside. "Madam, the general has left. It's time for us to prepare."

"Prepare for what?" Yan'er asked, taken aback.

"To serve tea and pay respects to the new princess, of course!" Feng He replied, bewildered by Yan'er's confusion.