When a Blade of Grass Wants to Become Immortal

Chapter 124: Chapter 123: The Substitute Eldest Miss 38 (Finale)

For most women, childbirth is a brush with death, but not for Ji Xiaosong.

The palace maids finished cleaning the palace, and Chu Qingyun, Chu Yuzhe, and the Empress Dowager walked in.

Zixi and three other palace maids followed behind, each holding one of the four newborn Little Princes.

Ji Xiaosong reclined against a soft, peony-patterned pillow. Beads of sweat still clung to her dark hair, yet her lips were as vibrant as a bitten pomegranate.

The Empress Dowager’s hand, adorned with golden silk armor, had just lifted a corner of the brocade quilt when she suddenly found it cumbersome. She gently placed the armor on a Twisted Lotus Pattern Porcelain Plate, the wide sleeves of her spring robes stirring a scent of Su He Xiang. ”I remember when Qingyun was born, he was just a little pink dumpling. These four are quite sturdy.”

As she leaned over, the jade longevity character hairpin dangling from her temple brushed against the swaddling clothes. She then took a piece of Mutton Fat Jade carved with a pomegranate pattern from her robes. ”Incense was burned before this at the altar of the Child-Giving Guanyin for an entire season. Keep it close to your heart.”

The hem of Chu Qingyun’s black Dragon Robe was still dotted with a few willow catkins. This usually cold and stern Emperor now knelt on one knee by the edge of the bed, his palm enveloping Ji Xiaosong’s cool fingers. ”The Imperial Hospital has the apothecaries brewing blood-nest porridge in the corridor. They say it’s most nourishing when taken at 5:45 AM.”

His voice suddenly grew thick. He lowered his head to kiss his wife’s sweat-dampened temple. ”Just now, during the court session, the Assistant Minister of Rites had an ink stain on his beard, and I found myself staring at it for a good while.”

”Father must have been distracted thinking about Mother!”

Chu Yuzhe peeked out from behind a gold-embroidered curtain, a few stray crabapple petals dotting his Crown Prince’s usual clothes.

The eight-year-old boy knelt on the footstool, holding a green porcelain stew pot. He lifted the lid as if presenting a treasure. ”I watched the kitchen staff simmer this sweet fermented rice with egg all night. Nanny Zhang says it’s the best for restoring one’s qi and blood.”

Guided by the Empress Dowager’s hand, Ji Xiaosong pressed the Warm Jade to her neck. The spring morning light, filtering through the red gauze window, illuminated her pale, smiling face. ”Mother, this jade is far more comforting than the bitter medicine you made me drink back then.”

She turned to sip the sweet soup her son offered, then frowned and chuckled. ”Yuzhe, did you pour an entire jar of locust flower honey in here?”

The tips of Chu Yuzhe’s ears turned red, but he kept a serious expression. The Jade Pendant at his waist chimed softly with his movement. ”The Grand Tutor said that in the Classic of Poetry, it is written, ’A gentle wind from the south, blows on the heart of the thorny shrub.’ I will go pick thorn sprouts tomorrow and make soup for you, Mother.”

Before he could finish, his father plucked him up by the collar and set him on his lap. Chu Qingyun pinched his son’s pudgy cheeks. ”I had all the thorn bushes in the Imperial Garden chopped down long ago.”

But when he saw his wife’s fingers secretly tugging at their son’s sash, a smile finally lit up his eyes.

The Empress Dowager, who was arranging the four swaddled babies in a lotus pattern, heard this and lightly tapped the Emperor’s forehead. ”Still smiling? And who was it that broke my Agarwood Rosary three times last night?”

She slipped a strand of Canaan Wood Buddhist Beads from her own wrist and placed it gently onto Ji Xiaosong’s. ”The monks in the Great Hero Hall chanted the Medicine Master Sutra for seven days. Even the bodhi tree bloomed half a month early.”

Outside, a light rain tapped against the glazed tiles. In the corridor, a golden bell held in the beak of a bronze sparrow chimed in the spring breeze.

Ji Xiaosong suddenly buried her face in Chu Qingyun’s robes. As the scent of ambergris and medicine filled her senses, she heard the thunderous beat of her husband’s heart. The Empress Dowager’s nails, dyed with balsamine juice, gently combed through her loosened hair. And Chu Yuzhe, clutching her sleeve, softly hummed ”Liao E,” a sound as peaceful as the lotus lanterns floating on Taiye Pond during the Shangsi Festival all those years ago.

*

Chu Qingyun chose the names for the four boys after much deliberation: Chu Yu’an, Chu Yucong, Chu Yucheng, and Chu Yumin.

When they were three, Ji Xiaosong decided to have three daughters.

Each of the three daughters had her own distinct personality. The eldest, Chu Yuying, was coolly elegant and noble. The second, Chu Yusu, was graceful and gentle. The third, Chu Yu Huan, was lively and adorable.

Their five older brothers, of course, doted on them endlessly.

Spring:

Chu Yuzhe hid a memorial in his wide sleeve and, during a break from his studies, snuck out to pick a crabapple blossom.

The fifteen-year-old Crown Prince held his sister Chu Yuying’s hand, teaching her to paint an orchid on gold-dusted paper. ”The snow leopard the Tibetan envoy presented yesterday—Ying’er, wouldn’t you say it resembles your Second Brother?”

Before he could finish, Chu Yu’an ran up, a jade-inlaid bamboo horse over his shoulder, his dark tunic damp with morning dew. ”You promised to teach Ying’er riding and archery today! Eldest Brother, why did you drag her to the study instead?”

A bitter, scorched scent suddenly wafted from the glazed pavilion. Chu Yucong emerged from a thicket of apricot blossoms, holding a medicine pot and with a copy of the Thousand Gold Formula tucked into his sash. ”Suer coughed twice last night.”

A silver bell on his wrist chimed softly, startling the swallows nesting under the eaves.

Chu Yusu clutched a hand warmer and laughed softly. ”Third Brother has pestered the head of the Imperial Hospital so much, I’m surprised the man has any beard left.”

Summer:

Chu Yucheng stood barefoot in the clear, green water, koi carps vying to peck at the lotus pastry in his palm.

Suddenly, a flash of a goose-yellow Ruqun appeared on the willow-lined bank. The young general, Chu Yucheng, leaped up, the sopping hem of his robes knocking over a glazed cup. ”Huanhuan, stay away from the water!”

But he saw that Chu Yumin had already carried their little sister behind a bamboo screen, a freshly picked lotus pod in his hand. ”How about Fifth Brother carves you a little pleasure boat from this?”

Six golden bells on the young girl’s wrist chimed, scattering the pond full of fireflies.

Autumn:

Chu Yuying’s sparrow gold fur was half-stained with wine. With a cold expression, she threw down her Jade Book.

Chu Yuzhe smoothed the twining embroidery on his cuff, then suddenly poured an entire flagon of fine wine over his own dragon-patterned robe. ”Eldest Brother is drunk.”

Meanwhile, Chu Yu’an had already dragged the Prince who had dirtied the fur coat off to ”exchange pointers on Martial Arts.” The drums from the training ground were loud enough to shake three branches from a dogwood tree.

Winter:

Chu Yusu was staring blankly under a plum tree, a copy of the *Collection of Yuefu Poetry* in her hands, when she suddenly felt a warmth on her neck.

Chu Yucong unwrapped his own white fox-fur cloak and draped it around her. With the pad of his finger, he wiped away the frost flowers on the window pane. ”Second Brother brought back some meteorite iron from the Northern Border and had a warm inkstone made for you.”

A loud crash suddenly came from the West Wing. Chu Yu Huan crawled out from a pile of books, her face covered in ink stains. Behind her, Chu Yucheng chased with a brocade quilt and Chu Yumin with a food box. ”You were supposed to copy *Admonitions for Women* ten times!”

Broken Jade Record:

The vermillion pen Chu Yuzhe used to approve memorials had three tiny lotuses carved into its shaft;

The lining of Chu Yu’an’s armor had a mosquito repellent sachet sewn into it, the stitches as crooked as a crawling worm;

The handle of Chu Yucong’s medicine pestle was wrapped in faded five-color silk;

Chu Yucheng’s sword tassel was adorned with half of a bitten candied fruit;

Chu Yumin’s Military Strategy Book contained a pressed butterfly, its wings inscribed with gold powder: ”Huanhuan, age seven.”

Ji Xiaosong discovered these secrets on a snowy night. The Emperor and Empress stood side-by-side outside the Warm Pavilion, watching their five sons and three daughters weave New Year’s Eve lanterns. Chu Qingyun suddenly squeezed his wife’s fingertips. ”I should have had you give birth to a few more little jade bells back then.”

*

In this life, Chu Qingyun lived to the age of seventy. When he passed away, Ji Xiaosong went with him.

At the age of twenty, Chu Yuzhe became the new Emperor. Just as she had always planned, Ji Xiaosong did everything in her power to help her son on his path to becoming one of the greatest emperors in history.

She provided him with a ceaseless supply of everything from high-yield grain seeds to gold, silver, jade, and silk.

The year after Chu Yuzhe ascended the throne, the Zhan City Rice Seeds tributed from Lingnan began to sprout along the Dragon Head Canal.

The young Emperor stepped barefoot into the spring mud, the Jiahe Fragrance Pouch embroidered by Ji Xiaosong still tied at his waist. He hung the remaining volumes of the *Essential Techniques for the People* and the *Western Regions Water Classics* side-by-side on a Dragon Bone Water Wheel.

Within ten years, all Eight Desolate Granaries were stamped with the ”Changfeng” seal. As the camel bells of foreign merchants rang through Suiye City, the children of the Imperial City were still singing the ditty: ”Mr. Chu’s great plan secured the salt and iron.”

Later, on the night the Ministry of War reported the submission of the Beidi, Chu Yuzhe placed the Tiger Talisman under the Gold Inlayed Bronze Burner his mother had given him.

His hand-drawn Nine Border Horse Market Map was steeped in the scent of ginseng soup. The two words ”mutual trade,” written in vermillion, bled through the back of the silk. It was just as Ji Xiaosong had taught him to solve interlocking puzzles all those years ago: trade millet for warhorses, and turn blades into tea and silk.

A later Historian added this note to the *Yuzhe Chronicles*: *He reigned for sixty years. His labor levies were light, never touching widowers or widows, and taxes never exceeded a tenth part.*

And the old nannies of the palace still remembered how, every year during the Grain Rain, the Emperor would personally bury three grains of rouge rice in the imperial fields, saying they were stars that had fallen from his mother’s skirt.