Chapter 75: Farewell

When the imperial decree arrived, Anzi was in the backyard playing with the two children. The elder brother was lively, so Banxia called him Trouble; the younger sister was quiet, and Anzi always called her Darling. Both children could crawl now, but while Trouble crawled everywhere, Darling was reluctant to move unless coaxed by Anzi—then she would crawl, albeit in a perfunctory manner, her movements so precise it seemed she had been born with a compulsion for straight lines.

Banxia often worried that her daughter was not quite normal, yet the two men of the household were wholly unconcerned, assuring her that girls were meant to be gentle and quiet, while boys were naturally restless. Banxia reluctantly accepted this, but continued to observe Darling secretly, eventually realizing the child’s lack of movement was simply laziness, not any hidden ailment. Only then did her worries abate.

Despite having a father who had achieved the highest honors in the imperial examinations, the two children’s names had yet to be decided. Gan Sui and Anzi had rifled through every literary classic, fraying their pages, yet still could not settle on suitable names. One name failed to capture the children’s beauty, another their intelligence, and if both qualities were present, it seemed to burden them with undue expectation. So, the two often spent entire days debating, only to end up back where they started.

Banxia grew increasingly anxious, worrying that if this continued, the children would form strong impressions of their nicknames. They were still small and could be called Trouble and Darling for now, but if they grew accustomed to these names, it might not be ideal.

Anzi shook a rattle in front of Darling, its chimes ringing out. Trouble quickly ran over and grabbed it. Anzi handed him the rattle, then prepared another toy for Darling. Unexpectedly, Trouble offered the rattle to his sister with a goofy grin, drooling as he was teething.

Darling took the rattle from her brother, gave him a gentle smile, then handed the rattle back to Anzi.

“Darling is so fond of her uncle,” Banxia remarked, likening it to a fledgling imprinting on the first person it sees. Darling had seen Anzi first, and so was especially attached to him. Banxia worried, knowing Anzi was about to leave.

Banxia learned of Anzi’s impending departure only half a month earlier. Anzi had always delighted in buying things for the children, but lately his extravagance had grown, especially with jewelry for Darling—sets from head to toe, though she wouldn’t wear them for another ten years.

Banxia began to admonish him, saying even with money, one shouldn’t spend so recklessly; who knew if the jewelry would even be usable a decade hence, and besides, in Liangzhou, it was hard to find quality goods.

“But Sister, I’m about to leave,” Anzi said calmly, as if commenting on the weather. Banxia was anything but calm. Ever since she learned of Anzi’s true identity, she knew he would eventually go, but she’d always comforted herself that he was still young, that the day would not come so soon. Yet here it was.

Banxia’s face turned pale. She asked Anzi, “When will you leave?”

“In about half a month.”

“So soon? But you’re still so young…”

“Sister, don’t worry about me. I’ve grown up; I can take care of myself. Sister, Lin You has died. I don’t want more good people to lose their lives to this world’s corruption. The Lin family, even you all, live in such times; who knows when, with a moment’s carelessness, we might be swallowed by chaos. I don’t want that. I don’t want to be a pawn others can discard at will. I want to be the one who holds the pieces, to direct the game. But you know, Sister, I lack the ability and experience now. I must return quickly and learn what I need.”

“But the palace is even more perilous…”

“If I can’t handle the schemes of the inner court, how can I govern the world?”

“Have you made up your mind?”

“Yes.”

“No regrets?”

“To seek benevolence and obtain it—never will I regret.”

“Very well. Your brother-in-law and I have always agreed that whatever path you choose, we will support you. Now that you’ve chosen your way, what we can do is help you wholeheartedly, be your pillar.”

“Sister…”

“Anzi, remember: whatever happens in the future, never forget your original kindness, nor that we are always your family. Whatever you do, we will support you. Go now, I need a moment alone.”

Anzi left the room, and as he descended the steps, he heard suppressed sobs inside. Looking up at the sky, he found the sunlight too dazzling, almost as if it could bring him to tears.

That evening, Gan Sui returned to find Banxia’s eyes red and swollen, guessing she had learned of Anzi’s departure.

Banxia was preparing things for Anzi—clothes, shoes, socks—when Gan Sui stopped her. “Don’t bother. None of these can be brought into the palace.”

Banxia almost wept again. “He’s leaving; can’t we give him something to remember us by?”

“No, Banxia. The palace has strict rules; everything must conform. Bringing such things would break protocol and harm Anzi.”

“Thinking of him going to such a cruel place unsettles me. You know those palace dramas—poisonings, drownings…”

“Banxia, it won’t be as frightening as you imagine. Since His Majesty is allowing Anzi to return, he’s taken care; everyone around Gan Sui will be his own people.”

“But what if a spy sneaks in, or someone defects? Villains don’t wear signs, and hearts are hidden. Who can guarantee absolute loyalty?”

“Banxia, you don’t understand the feeling of losing something and then regaining it. It makes you use all your strength to ensure it’s never lost again, because you know the pain, and you wouldn’t want to experience it twice. The emperor is Anzi’s biological father. Between them lies unbreakable blood and endless debts. So rest assured, His Majesty’s love for Anzi will not be less than ours. Banxia, you must understand—children grow, and eventually belong to themselves. Anzi is growing up; we can’t bind him with affection, making him feel leaving is a hurt. That would only make it harder for him.”

Banxia spent half a month preparing herself mentally, so when the decree finally arrived, she felt an unexpected calm. The dust had settled; separation was inevitable.

Anzi did not leave that day. Along with the decree came an order transferring Gan Sui to Jiangnan. Gan Sui’s term was not yet up, but the emperor praised his defense of the city and management of military supplies, granting him a promotion to Prefect of Yangzhou. Anzi would travel with them.

Those delivering the decree were trusted aides of Qi Nanxing, and dared not say a word. They chose an inn and waited for the journey.

When Banxia first arrived in Liangzhou, she disliked the climate—dry in summer and autumn, dusty winds, cold and even drier in winter. Yet after living here for over a year, she felt reluctant to leave. Gan Sui had built her a small greenhouse for vegetables; last year’s heavy snow had prevented a good harvest, but Banxia hoped for better this year. The transplanted sweet osmanthus in the courtyard still scented the air; many things here had been acquired by Banxia herself, each with her effort and care. Now, none of it could be taken along—she was heartsick, but there was no choice.

On the day they arrived in Yangzhou, a fine rain was falling. The weather in the heartland was entirely different—moist wind, gentle dialects at every ear, and Banxia felt herself melting. Gan Sui and Banxia went to the magistrate’s office for the handover, then settled into their new residence. The courtyard was quintessentially Jiangnan—bridges, streams, scenery at every step. Yet Banxia felt no joy, for Anzi was leaving the next day. After this, chances to meet again would be rare, and when they did, none of them might be as they were now.

Anzi departed early the following morning. Banxia and Gan Sui, with the children, escorted him out of the city. Nothing else could be taken; Banxia had made a brocade pouch for Anzi, containing a talisman for safety. She had obtained it days earlier at a renowned temple along the road. The temple stood atop a mountain, with ninety-nine steps, each said to require a kneeling prayer, most sincere, promising wishes fulfilled.

Banxia, without telling Gan Sui or Anzi, went to the foot of the mountain and indeed, knelt step by step all the way to the summit, praying for the talisman. Her legs felt ruined by the end. When Gan Sui found her, she was dazed on the topmost stone step, and he carried her down.

“Gan Sui, is this temple really so spiritual?”

“Yes.”

“Now that I have the safety talisman, Anzi will surely be safe, won’t he?”

“He will. Certainly.”

Banxia lay on his back, saying nothing more.

Anzi placed the brocade pouch close to his heart. “Sister, I must go.”

“Alright.” Banxia held Darling in her arms; Darling was still asleep, oblivious to the farewell. Behind Anzi stood Lin Tianyu, who would accompany him to the capital for an audience. This brought some comfort, though the peace felt unreal.

Anzi gently touched Darling’s small face. “Don’t let the children forget they have an uncle.”

“Of course.”

“Sister, I truly am leaving.” Knowing his own reluctance, Anzi mounted his horse without another word.

But Darling seemed to sense something, waking abruptly and bursting into tears. Anzi looked back; she was staring at him. Yet he could not return—only move forward. Turning away, he struck the horse’s flank, which neighed and galloped ahead.

Darling’s crying grew ever more intense, heartbreaking. Banxia, already sad, broke down with her child, both weeping uncontrollably.

Gan Sui never looked back, unable to stop the tears streaming down his face.

Separation always brings pain; after pain comes growth. There is no feast in this world that does not end.