Igniting the Spark - Chapter 30
After a torrential summer rain.
The entire Capital City felt refreshed.
Pei Yi was indeed a good emperor. In the half year since his ascension, he ruled with both kindness and authority, bringing clarity to the court and smooth governance throughout the land.
He followed what I once told him in the academy: to be cautious in foreign trade, to establish new-style academies nationwide, to encourage invention, to lighten taxes and labor, to approve female households, and to allow women to form independent households, pursue education, and enter officialdom.
The Benevolent Manor had long since been restored; Pei Yi had protected everyone within it back then.
When the rainwater on the ground was nearly dry, my mother and I finished packing our belongings.
I carried my bundle and stood before the hall with three trustworthy servants, waiting for her.
She went to bid farewell to my father.
Inside, my father-who should have been high-spirited from his promotion-had, for some reason, a slightly hunched back.
“Staying in the Capital City, you could still do what you wish,” my father’s voice was muffled, but much gentler than his cries that night.
“Since our paths differ, why walk together?” My mother met his gaze, her voice still soft as cotton.
Perhaps the spring rain was still chilly; he bent over and coughed.
He coughed so much that he never looked up at my mother again.
In the end, my mother performed a Wanfu to him, then turned and walked toward me.
I glanced back at the sky, squared off by the eaves, then stepped outside.
My mother and I would travel to more distant places.
Perhaps we would never find a place to settle.
But everywhere we sowed the seeds of fire,
There would be sparks, deeply rooted in fertile soil.
Just waiting for the day they would suddenly grow into towering trees.
When we reached the outskirts of the Capital City, my mother and I found a roadside teahouse to rest.
We overheard diners nearby saying it was the most popular teahouse in the area.
It had a rustic charm.
The tea-serving girl was gentle and serene.
But I noticed she was missing a hand.
I looked up at her abruptly, and she glanced back at me in surprise.
Realizing my rudeness, I quickly averted my gaze.
After serving our tea, the girl went to attend to other guests.
As if nothing had happened.
Watching her back, my heart felt soaked in sourness, swelling with ache.
My vision blurred a little.
We drank our tea in haste, and I called my mother to leave.
At that moment, someone suddenly pressed something into my hand.
I looked down.
It was two handkerchiefs.
One embroidered with orchids, the other with plum blossoms.
