BMN : Chapter 36

After New Year’s Day, the Lantern Festival followed. Even before nightfall, many village girls dressed up prettily, ready to go to the city together. In this dynasty, there was no curfew, making travel between rural and urban areas easy. During festive occasions, the streets were bustling. Even in the countryside where Fu Ming resided, the increased activity made it livelier than usual.

Some village girls, intentionally passing by Fu Ming’s courtyard, called out to Lu Fei and Wanlan, asking if they wanted to join them for a night out in the city. However, it was Fu Ming who answered the door, as Lu Fei was busy preparing his medicine and Wanlan was making dumplings.

The girl who knocked, Liang Rui, blushed upon seeing Fu Ming and stammered, unsure of what to say. Fu Ming smiled gently, saying, “I’m sorry, they won’t be going out tonight. Thank you for the invitation.” He handed her a purse of change. “If you see any beautiful lanterns, please buy two for me.”

Liang Rui, somewhat flustered, took the purse and replied, “Of course, we’ll definitely bring some back for you.”

The group of girls quickly gathered and hurried away, looking back to see the door closed. They felt a pang of regret but soon resumed their cheerful chatter.

Fu Ming hadn’t intended to keep his maids from going out but understood their reluctance to leave him alone. Though he appreciated their concern, he didn’t fear solitude.

However, thinking back to this night last year, a slight sadness welled up inside him.

Before leaving, Dr. Fang Shiyue had promised to send a letter upon his arrival. As expected, Fu Ming received a letter after the Lantern Festival, though it contained neither good nor bad news. Fu Ming’s heart remained heavy with anticipation. Though his illness fluctuated, it wasn’t too severe. As the spring cold persisted, he longed for warmer days and hoped to visit his nurse, who had been like a second mother to him since birth.

But fate was unkind. Just as the peach blossoms began to bud along the paths and the flowers were yet to bloom, a cold snap hit. Fu Ming fell ill with a fever for several days. Amidst his delirium, he overheard a conversation between Lu Fei and Wanlan outside his room. The realization hit him like a shock, bringing him to full consciousness. What he heard were suppressed sobs, signaling the loss of someone dear.

The only close family he had left in the world had passed away, leaving him utterly alone.

Tears flowed freely as Fu Ming stared at his hands, his palm lines feeling more pronounced with the weight of grief.

The loud coughing from inside the room startled the two maids. They rushed in to find Fu Ming sitting on his bed, weeping uncontrollably.

The three of them embraced, each shedding tears. After the sorrow had somewhat subsided, Lu Fei and Wanlan tried to comfort Fu Ming, preparing hot water and medicine. After a long while, Fu Ming finally spoke softly, “I need to see her one last time.”

“Master, Dr. Fang’s letter advised against traveling south. The humid spring in Jiangnan can spread disease, and your body can’t handle it,” Lu Fei warned.

“I failed to fulfill my filial duty while she was alive. How can I not send her off properly?” Fu Ming insisted, standing up. “Pack some things. We’re leaving tonight.”

Lu Fei sighed heavily, speaking with resolve, “Master, it’s too late.”

“What do you mean?”

“Dr. Fang’s letter mentioned the date. Even if you go now, you won’t make it in time to see her one last time.”

Fu Ming wavered, and Wanlan quickly supported him.

“Why? Why didn’t she wait for me?” Fu Ming covered his face with his hands, tears seeping through his fingers. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I was unfilial, not going to see her sooner. It’s all my fault, my fault…”

“Master…” Wanlan choked on her words, “She wouldn’t blame you.”

Lu Fei, holding back tears, added, “Master, I believe Auntie Shen wouldn’t hold it against you. Her greatest wish was for you to be safe.”

…

The intense sorrow left Fu Ming physically and emotionally exhausted. Though he lay in bed, he couldn’t find peace. Eventually, he got up and instructed, “Prepare the ink.”

After Lu Fei ground the ink, Fu Ming approached the desk and began to write:

“Memorial to Wet Nurse Shen of Linchuan.”

Yet, as soon as he wrote the heading, tears fell again, blurring his vision. His hand trembled, unable to continue.

Fu Ming never finished the memorial. As peach blossoms bloomed along the paths and the grass turned green, as migratory birds returned and fish surfaced in the ponds, the landscape transitioned from the bleakness of winter to the vitality of spring.

Due to an epidemic in Jiangnan, Dr. Fang Shiyue hadn’t returned north. He wrote to ask about Fu Ming’s condition, and Fu Ming replied that he was fine. Dr. Fang decided to stay and practice medicine, planning to return at the end of spring.

As the weather improved, Fu Ming could go outside. Wrapped in a cloak, he strolled around the area daily, observing the subtle changes in nature—the gradual greening of the grass, the blossoming of flowers, and the farmers’ diligent work that promised a bountiful harvest.

Despite the changing seasons, nature’s cycle continued unbroken. Everything rejuvenated in its due time, seemingly untouched by decay or aging.

Fu Ming recorded these observations on paper, his writing a constant practice.

Day after day, until the paulownia flowers began to bloom, and a crow flew overhead with a piece of paper, Fu Ming realized it was already Qingming.

Was Jiangnan also experiencing the drizzling rains of the season? Was the nurse’s grave now gently covered with new grass? Fu Ming returned to his room and finally finished writing the memorial.

Afterward, he asked Wanlan to bring a copper basin. Together with paper money, he burned the memorial, reciting its contents line by line, as if hoping the rising smoke would carry his sorrow and regrets to the deceased. His voice remained calm, his expression serene, yet Wanlan’s tears fell like rain.

After the memorial for his nurse, Fu Ming rested briefly. After lunch, he asked Lu Fei to accompany him to pay respects to his parents and grandparents.

As Lu Fei handed him a wet cloth to wipe the ash from his hands, Fu Ming suddenly asked, “How many hurdles are in life’s path? Why does it seem so hard, one after another?” It seemed like a question for himself, perhaps for the heavens.

“Master…”

Fu Ming turned his head, covering his mouth with a cough. When he removed his hand, a red stain marked his palm.

Shortly after Qingming, it was Jin Yi’s birthday.

At thirty, a man stands on his own. The Jin household had faced numerous upheavals recently, and the matriarch wanted to bring joy and forge new connections. She sent out many invitations for Jin Yi’s birthday banquet.

Fu Ming learned of this from Zhou Chengyan’s casual remarks. Surprisingly, he didn’t remain silent; instead, he asked Zhou to take him to the Jin household on that day.

Zhou Chengyan, puzzled by Fu Ming’s intentions, eventually agreed.

On the day, the Jin household was meticulously decorated. Zhou Chengyan arrived on horseback, followed by two sedan chairs. The gatekeepers assumed one was for Lady Zhou and the other for Miss Zhou, allowing both to enter the estate.

The first chair proceeded to the back hall for entertaining the ladies. The second chair stopped unnoticed, and Fu Ming stepped out, heading straight to Peach Blossom Courtyard.

Peach Blossom Courtyard was still vibrant with spring, the lush greenery covering most of the courtyard. However, the path was overgrown with grass, and the pond was littered with fallen flowers and leaves. The green grass by the steps, the melodious oriole calls—everything seemed both full of life and desolately quiet.

Fu Ming did not enter the house but sat on a stone bench beneath the trees, waiting quietly.

He waited for half a day until the sun set, and the bright colors of the day turned dim. Finally, he saw Zhou Chengyan escorting a drunken Jin Yi into the courtyard.

Upon hearing the gate open, Fu Ming tensed. Footsteps approached, and he stood, emerging from the shadows to meet the approaching figure. They locked eyes.

Jin Yi, still drunk, stared at the dimly lit Fu Ming, stunned for a long moment. He rubbed his temples and sneered, “Already dreaming again.”

He turned to leave, not wanting to indulge in the dream, but Fu Ming’s voice stopped him.

“Changji,” Fu Ming called, stepping closer.

Jin Yi turned back, frowning. “Since you left, don’t return, even in dreams.”

Fu Ming smiled softly. “Are you angry?”

Jin Yi replied angrily, “Shouldn’t I be?” He closed his eyes briefly. “I shouldn’t be angry. No anger, no resentment. Just letting go—letting you go and freeing myself.”

But Fu Ming didn’t relent, taking his hand and looking at him with tender eyes.

Feeling the warmth in his palm, Jin Yi’s heart warmed too, burning away his anger.

In this dream, unseen by anyone else, he thought, and he pulled Fu Ming into a tight embrace, their lips meeting in a fierce, passionate kiss.

Fu Ming led Jin Yi inside. He had come intending to say a proper goodbye, hoping for a peaceful farewell, so he could move on, alive or dead. But seeing Jin Yi and hearing him speak as if in a dream, all his pent-up longing ignited, overwhelming his reason. He thought, they were both muddled by illness and drink; they could indulge just once, in a night of reckless abandon.

Under the moonless sky, darkness enveloped Peach Blossom Courtyard, isolating it from the world.

Jin Yi’s breath, tinged with alcohol, mingled with urgent questions in Fu Ming’s ears. He did not resist, accepting all the fervent kisses and relentless pressure, until they were both utterly spent.

Late into the night, Jin Yi fell into a deep sleep. Fu Ming, exhausted, got up, tidied everything, and in the dim candlelight, gazed at the peaceful figure for a long time before slipping away into the night.

By morning, all traces had vanished, as if no one had ever been there.

Jin Yi woke, feeling like he had just emerged from a vivid, indulgent dream. But the sight of the empty Peach Blossom Courtyard and its desolate surroundings reminded him it was all just a fleeting illusion.

He swore to himself that he would never set foot in this place again, even if drunk.

R: Sniff… it’s too hard

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