Chapter 9 — A Lifetime's Delayed Longing

She gave her reply and departed to attend to her duties. That night, the Everlasting Spring Pavilion was illuminated by a multitude of crimson candles. The former court ladies gathered around to play traditional leaf cards, the warm candle glow casting upon their faces an expression that bore, against all odds, a lingering semblance of joy. Meng Huaizhou sat beneath the veranda, her lips feigning disdain for such vulgar amusements, yet her eyes filled with quiet mirth. I stood outside the courtyard gate for a long while, watching them. A sudden realization washed over me: the belated wedding candles of a past life had finally found a true and fitting home. They no longer cast their light upon a desolate bridal bed curtains. Nor did they flicker vainly through a snowy night in a forgotten, remote courtyard. Instead, they illuminated a circle of women who had spent their youth wasting away within the palace walls, casting their warm glow over the lively warmth of their twilight years. It was a good thing.

Before Huo Qingci submitted his request for retirement due to age, he came to the Directorate of Palace Attendants to deliver the final official documents from the Rites Department. Threads of silver had already begun to weave through his temples. I, too, was no longer young. He placed the documents down upon the desk and chuckled.

"Chief Nguyen, are there any errors this time?"

I flipped through two pages.

"None discernible thus far."

"That is good."

He stood before the desk, falling silent for a moment.

"I shall be leaving the capital soon."

I raised my head.

"Returning to your hometown?"

"Yes."

"Take care."

He nodded. As he reached the threshold, he turned back to look at me once more.

"Nguyen Duang Van."

This time, I did not correct his manner of address. He spoke softly:

"If there is a next life..."

He trailed off midway, stopping of his own accord before letting out a soft, self-deprecating laugh.

"Never mind."

"In this life, you have lived very well."

I smiled as well.

"Indeed."

"I have lived very well."

After he departed, I resumed my review of the documents. The afternoon sunlight filtered through the lattice windows of the Directorate, casting checkerboard patterns of light and shadow across the wooden desk. A young maid-in-waiting entered to serve tea, and seeing the faint smile upon my lips, her boldness grew just a fraction.

"Is the Chief Attendant in particularly high spirits today?"

I lifted the porcelain teacup.

"Yes."

"The old ledgers have finally been settled."

She did not understand my words, and I offered no explanation. As evening approached, I made my way to the Everlasting Spring Pavilion. The red candles had burned completely down to their wicks, leaving behind only stubby remnants of wax. The pomegranate tree in the courtyard had borne ripe fruit, and several of the former court ladies were discussing when to harvest them and share the bounty. Meng Huaizhou sat beneath the eaves, casting a lazy, sideways glance at me.

"Come to audit the ledgers again?"

I sat down beside her.

"I came to catch the sun."

She let out a scoffing laugh.

"At your age, you are actually learning how to be idle like the rest of them."

I gazed out at the fading rays of twilight pooling within the courtyard.

"Just for today."

Many years ago, I had died a wretched death of illness within a secluded, forgotten corner of the Huo family estate. No one had claimed my remains. No one had lit a single lamp for my spirit. Back then, I truly believed my fate had shattered beyond all repair, leaving not a single path of redemption. Later, I crossed the threshold of the imperial palace, entering as the lowliest, most insignificant ledger-keeping maid. Day after day, I audited accounts; day after day, I tallied pages, meticulously striking out every accounting error, and in doing so, bit by bit, crossing out the erroneous destiny that had once bound my life. Looking back now, the palace regulations were stifling and severe, yet they had also granted me a profound sense of freedom. Female officials were forbidden from marrying outside at will. How wonderful that was. I no longer needed to marry anyone to prove that I was loved. Nor did I need to wait for anyone to finally turn their head after my death just to prove that I had been worthy of notice. This life of mine belonged, at long last, entirely to myself.