Chapter 8 — Snow Covered Jade Boi

Nhuy Nhi struggled violently, her eyes were white, her nails scratched his face, blood flowed. Dog bites dog, hair fills mouth. Young man Pho Trinh quietly looked at that scene, without any ripples in his eyes. Just quietly hold my hand, your voice gentle:

“Let's go, Ha Ha.”

“This place is dirty, don't let her eyes be dirty.”

We turned around and left. Behind echoed the pitiful cries of Nhuy Nhi who was about to die, along with the general's desperate cries. Pho Trinh was sentenced to exile three thousand miles away, never being allowed to return to the capital. For the crime of defrauding the ruler and harming the government's wife, she was conscripted into a religious guild and worked as a slave for the rest of her life. The Fu family collapsed, the trees fell and the monkeys fell apart, the factions scattered. King Thuy presides over it and helps me get back my entire dowry. Not only that, he also gave me a part of the property confiscated from the Deputy Palace as compensation. Also given a new civil registration, from now on I am a free person. Everything has an end. The peach forest outside the city has bloomed. That is the forest that ten years ago, young Pho Trinh planted with his own hands. Let's go together under the biggest peach tree. The body of young man Pho Trinh was almost completely transparent. The sunlight passed through him, shining on the tree trunk, not leaving a single shadow. He tried to pick up a cup of tea, but his fingers passed through the cup like wind through water. He smiled bitterly and let go. Leaning back against the tree trunk, his face was pale, but his smile was still as gentle as before.

“Ha Ha, in this life I have broken my promise.”

“I clearly said I would protect you from life's storms and winds, but in the end, I brought you the biggest storms.”

Tears filled my eyes and I shook my head like crazy. I wanted to hold his hand, but I couldn't. My hand passed through his palm, only grasping a piece of nothingness. Young man Pho Trinh pointed to a spot of dirt under the peach tree.

"There, there is also a jar of wine buried."

“It's her favorite peach blossom wine, which has been buried for ten years.”

"Originally, I planned to wait until our baby was a full month old to drink it..."

His voice became lighter and softer, like willow silk in the wind.

“Wait for me to leave, dig it out and drink.”

“Let's just say… it's our proper drinking.”

“Even though the bridegroom is an animal, the wine is good wine.”

The tears burst, blurring my vision. I nodded repeatedly, my throat choked and I couldn't say a word. Young man Pho Trinh looked at me, his eyes full of love and unwillingness to leave. His body began to dissolve into points of light, gradually dissipating into nothingness. Along with the flower petals falling with the wind, flying to far away places.

“Ha Ha, don't cry.”

“Forget Pho Trinh.”

“Five years of peace, don't look back.”

The bright spot finally disappeared. Under the peach tree, I am alone. The wind blew past, flowers fell like rain, as if someone were sighing softly. I knelt under the peach tree and used my bare hands to dig up that jar of wine. Removing the sealed layer of mud, the fragrant smell of wine spreads out in all directions. I tilted my head back and drank. Alcohol stings the throat, reaches the heart and turns into hot tears. After drinking the last sip, I violently broke the jar of wine. A crunching sound rang out. Porcelain pieces scattered. I faced the empty peach forest and said softly:

“See you again, Pho Trinh.”

Three months later. The border sent news back. The exiled criminal Pho Trinh went crazy on his way. He refused to wear prison clothes and refused to be paid Dry court ban. Every day, I look into the void and scream: "Ha Ha, I'm sorry, Ha Ha, I was wrong." Finally, on a rainy and snowy night... Pho Trinh froze to death next to a pile of dry grass along the roadside. When discovered, he was still clutching a lock of hair in his hand. It was the lock of hair I cut at the Bach Hoa banquet that year. Even until death, he would not let go. As for Nhi Nhi. She suffered enough torture in the parish, but could not survive that winter. She fell ill and died, and was rolled up on a mat and thrown into the cemetery. Two years later. In Suzhou, Jiangnan region. An embroidery shop named Cam Tu Phuong is doing brisk business, with customers coming like water. The female shopkeeper of the shop had exquisite workmanship, a gentle personality, and was said to have a relationship with the Thuy Vuong palace in the capital, so no one dared to cause trouble. I sat by the window next to the street, my hands embroidering non-stop. The morning sun shines on the embroidery frame, the years are as quiet as a dream. Suddenly there was a noise outside. The sound of horse hooves came rushing in. A young man wearing brocade, riding a horse, rushed past. At that moment, I raised my head. That young man's profile, the generous expression in his eyebrows and eyes, were exactly like Pho Trinh's ten years ago. Even the whip that was swung had the same curvature. My heart suddenly skipped a beat. I looked at his back in bewilderment disappearing behind the corner of the street. The maid next to her asked curiously: "Barkeeper, what are you looking at?" I withdrew my gaze and lowered my head to look at the unfinished lotus flower in my hand. The corners of his lips curled slightly, revealing a gentle smile of surrender.

“Nothing.”

“Looking at the wrong person.”

That young man riding a horse in a brocade shirt, forever stopped in the memories of ten years ago, in the pearl drenched in white snow that year. And I... Finally stepped out of that long winter.