He looked at Yang Wan, “I wanted so desperately to live by your side.”
Yang Wan moved her body inward a few inches. “Come up here.”
Deng Ying smiled and shook his head, tucking the blanket around Yang Wan’s legs. “How can I take care of you if I’m lying down?”
Yang Wan said, “I’m already in this state, and if you fall ill from my troubling you, we’ll both be bedridden, and His Majesty can come to take care of us.”
Deng Ying laughed, “Wan-wan, don’t speak of His Majesty that way.”
“Then come up here.”
“Alright.”
Deng Ying rose and sat on the edge of the bed, bent down to remove his shoes, and slowly lay down beside Yang Wan.
“Wan-wan, in the future, may I…”
“Read the little yellow book?”
“Ah?”
Yang Wan buried her head in the blanket and burst out laughing.
Seeing her like this, Deng Ying suddenly relaxed as well.
She had always called the book Chen Hua gave him the “little yellow book.” Though he didn’t understand how many meanings had evolved in the character “yellow,” when it came from Yang Wan’s mouth, it always carried a hint of playfulness. The original book was about how eunuchs should serve women, but after she renamed it, it seemed to no longer define his identity.
Deng Ying gently lifted Yang Wan’s blanket.
“What are you laughing at?”
Yang Wan pulled the blanket back, still unable to stop laughing.
Deng Ying laughed too, and simply repeated her earlier words gently, “May I read the little yellow book in the future?”
“You may.”
Yang Wan poked her head out from under the blanket and looked at Deng Ying, “Not only can you read it, you can learn from it too, but not these few days. You haven’t recovered yet, and I’m still ill.”
“I know.”
After speaking, he reached out to protect Yang Wan’s head, preventing her from hitting the headboard while moving about.
“Wan-wan.”
“What?”
“What does the ‘yellow’ in ‘little yellow book’ mean?”
Yang Wan hadn’t expected that after surviving such a close brush with death, this person would ask her such a serious question.
But she also felt this was good.
He had truly survived, like a fish that had slipped through the vast net of “time” and “space,” swimming silently in familiar waters. If one were to explain why he had survived, even with all the scientific advancement six hundred years later, there seemed to be no answer.
So she preferred to answer Deng Ying’s somewhat absurd current question—what does the “yellow” in “little yellow book” mean?
“The character ‘yellow,’ like the term ‘scumbag,’ was born six hundred years later. ‘Yellow’… represents intimate affairs between men and women. Initially, it wasn’t a good word, but later, as it was repeatedly interpreted in different contexts, it gradually developed more nuanced meanings, becoming more aligned with human desire—not evil, but not exactly proper either.”
She finished speaking and turned over, “Deng Ying, in my era, not only the Chinese characters but the entire Chinese civilization underwent earth-shattering changes. Six hundred years later, this land beneath our feet will be called ‘China.’ Countless successors, like you, will face death fearlessly and forge ahead for their hopes for the era and visions of the country’s future.”
“Do you prefer the Ch… six hundred years later?”
“China.”
“Yes, do you prefer the country six hundred years later?”
“Mm.”
Yang Wan nodded, “It’s more free, more open, more inclusive than now. It’s my homeland, it gives me the right to choose my own identity, and it nurtures me to become an independent woman. However…”
She reached out to hold Deng Ying’s arm, “I don’t despise the present either.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m a historian, my existence’s meaning is to find the meaning in the existence of people like you. Deng Ying, if possible, I would take you back to my home six hundred years later. I have a brother there too.”
She smiled as she spoke, “He’s a bit like Yang Lun, quite capable, though his temper isn’t very good, but he can’t win arguments with me. My mother is tough on the outside but soft-hearted, and my father is somewhat timid, always losing arguments with his mother, but they’re constantly arguing. Only on the matter of pushing me to marry do they agree. Though it’s a bit annoying, I know they all love me very much.”
Deng Ying was silent for a while, then suddenly asked, “Do you want to go back?”
Yang Wan didn’t answer him immediately.
She curled up her legs, pressing her knees against Deng Ying’s legs.
“Deng Ying, you studied Confucianism, but do you believe in the Buddhist concept of cause and effect’?”
“I dare not interpret it.”
“I dare not either, but when I can’t understand something, I always bring up this term. Look, six hundred years later, I studied you for ten years, but I had never seen you, never loved you. Cause and effect, karma, brought me here. Here, I am still your researcher, but at South Lake, I saw you, then loved you, possessed you, and lived daily life with you. I feel that perhaps the current me is more complete, more without regret.”
She finished speaking and buried her head in Deng Ying’s chest.
“In this life, I have worldly desires for you, wanting to live together with you for a long, long time. So let it be this way. I hope the Yang Wan six hundred years later will also have my current courage, to fight another battle for you in her writings.”
In the autumn of the first year of Jinghe, Deng Ying received the Emperor’s pardon, avoiding execution by Lingchi. He was stripped of all official positions and expelled from the inner court, with his registration transferred to the Yang household.
In the winter of that year.
Yang Lun stood outside Yang Wan’s residence holding a bag of oranges, shivering as he waited until dusk when he finally saw the two return arm in arm.
Deng Ying carried a basket of wood, while Yang Wan held a live hen.
“Where have you been!”
Yang Wan said, “Shopping, of course.”
“Deng Fu Ling, you’re spending my sister’s money again!”
“I… I do work…”
Yang Wan laughed, “Stop being sour, bringing a bag of oranges. Come in quickly, there’s wine inside, I’ll fry the chicken for you all.”
Perhaps there will inevitably be friction between the two eras, but I love him, and I love myself.
With my literary heart, I make a vow, to remain forever unwavering in my devotion.
—Yang Wan/She and the Lamp “Eastern Depot Observation Notes”