That night, Consort Ning didn’t leave the side chamber of the Hall of Mental Cultivation until midnight.
Though the weather had turned warm, she still wore a padded cotton jacket. Her face was pale, her steps unsteady, and she had to lean on Heyu’s arm to manage the stairs.
Yang Wan lifted her skirts and hurried up the steps to meet them. “Are you all right, Your Grace?”
Consort Ning released Heyu and gently took Yang Wan’s hand. “Sister is fine… Wan’er, I must truly thank you for today’s matter.”
Yang Wan quickly took over from Heyu in supporting Consort Ning, accompanying her slowly down the terrace.
“I wouldn’t dare accept thanks. I’m just glad Your Grace is safe.”
Consort Ning tried to speak but suddenly began coughing. Yang Wan stopped walking and rubbed her back to help ease her breathing.
“Your Grace, shall I call for a sedan chair?”
Consort Ning waved her hand.
“No need.”
After standing quietly at the bottom of the terrace to catch her breath, she looked at Yang Wan and asked, “Wan’er, don’t you have questions for Sister?”
Yang Wan shook her head, “For Your Grace’s and Lord Zheng’s sake, I’d rather not ask.”
Hearing this, Consort Ning tilted her head back and let out a long sigh.
The vast palace complex was silent now, with only faint moonlight above them.
Gazing at the crescent moon, Consort Ning spoke softly: “We always hid it so well before. Even when meeting in the Hall of Mental Cultivation, we wouldn’t spare each other a glance. If not for today’s emergency, Sister would never have involved you. Wan’er, I’m sorry.”
“Please don’t say that, Your Grace.”
Consort Ning closed her eyes, fighting back tears, her voice full of melancholy, “What I feel for him… was once love, now it’s compassion. I think he feels the same for me.”
“Compassion…”
“Yes, there can’t be anything else anymore.”
Yang Wan looked down at the small circle of light cast by the lantern and couldn’t help asking, “What kind of person is he?”
Consort Ning shook her head, “It’s hard to say. Compared to before, he seems to have changed somewhat – he’s very stern with palace servants who make mistakes. But in some ways, he hasn’t changed at all. Sometimes when I see him bow to me, I still remember how gentle he was when he visited the Yang household before I entered the palace.”
“Why did he enter palace service?”
Consort Ning was silent for a moment, “I don’t know. Perhaps for pride, perhaps for me. I’ve never dared to ask him.”
Yang Wan didn’t probe further.
Whether in the Ming Dynasty or the twenty-first century, people’s living spaces were always confined.
Trapped in small spaces, imprisoned by human emotions and desires, one could only give love to those nearby. Yet when love grew too deep, neither party could bear it. Thus, it eventually transformed into what Consort Ning called compassion.
In the vast sea of desire and karmic ties, one could only feel pity for those before them.
Yang Wan felt a warmth in her heart and unconsciously tightened her grip on Consort Ning’s arm.
“Did Sister’s words upset you?”
“No, I was just thinking too much.”
Consort Ning looked at Yang Wan’s profile, “Sister is already like this, but you’re much better off than Sister was.”
She gently embraced Yang Wan, “Don’t be sad.”
Yang Wan leaned into Consort Ning’s embrace, pressed her lips together in silence for a long while, and finally said, “I want to ask Your Grace for something.”
“Of course.”
On the eighth day of the fifth month, it was the seventh day after Zhang Zhanchun’s death.
Just as dawn was breaking, Deng Ying changed into plain white mourning clothes and walked out of his quarters.
It had rained during the night and was still drizzling. The moat’s water level was high, its sound louder than usual, and the weeping willows swayed ghostly in the river wind.
Deng Ying bent to pick up a broom that had fallen by the door, and as he straightened up, he saw Yang Wan walking toward him, holding an oiled paper umbrella.
She too wore pure white mourning clothes, having removed all her ornaments except for the pair of lotus jade pendants she never took off.
Deng Ying quickly brushed the dust from his hands.
“Why have you come?”
“I also want to pay my respects to Master Zhang.”
Deng Ying hesitated, “Did Lady Jiang allow you to leave the palace?”
Yang Wan smiled and shook her head, “Someone like Lady Jiang would never permit it, so I asked Consort Ning instead. Don’t worry, I won’t be punished.”
She tilted the umbrella slightly, “Shall we go?”
Deng Ying reached for her umbrella, “Let me hold it.”
Yang Wan didn’t insist otherwise, and they walked along the moat toward the Huiji Gate.
Yang Wan noticed he was still carefully avoiding any physical contact with her.
He held the umbrella tilted completely toward her side, leaving half his body in the rain.
Yang Wan raised her hand to straighten the umbrella handle.