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Nene Yashiro

Nightmare

“Child, why are you only just back? Tang Mi and Tang De have been waiting for you for quite a while; they haven’t gone far!” Madam Xiao said with a smile as she pulled him into the house.

Seeing his pale face, she thought he had caught a chill and hurried to the kitchen to brew some ginger tea to warm him up.

Gu Zhenguan watched the flickering shadows cast by the candlelight. He had no reason not to live well, to honor Tang Jiwei’s mother and to seek revenge for himself.

“Mother, do they need something from me?”

Madam Xiao replied loudly, “Oh, it’s nothing important; they just want to invite you to go out and have some fun!”

Tang De and Tang Mi were siblings from his second uncle’s family and had a good relationship with Tang Jiwei. They would occasionally invite him to go out to see temple fairs. However, the third aunt’s son, Song Zhiyuan, was someone all three of them were reluctant to associate with. From Madam Xiao’s tone, it was clear he came from a wealthy family, which made them feel they couldn’t measure up.

Gu Zhenguan was preoccupied with thoughts of revenge. He didn’t want to do something foolish like assassinating Han Zhen. Even though he was familiar with the palace, his scholar’s body was no longer as strong as it once was. The best way to get close to Han Zhen was through the imperial examination. Once he gained power, he would surely be able to rescue his parents, and at that point, even if they faced destruction together, he would have no more regrets.

Gu Zhenguan watched Madam Xiao busying herself at the stove, feeling an overwhelming guilt. He had taken over her son’s body, yet he was still contemplating destruction. The family principles of the Gu clan and his past life’s values made him conflicted and hesitant. He had never harmed anyone, yet the first person he would hurt was the kind mother who raised him. The guilt weighed heavily on him.

That night, Gu Zhenguan had a dream that drenched him in sweat.

In the spring rain beneath the apricot blossoms, Han Zhen faced him with a drawn sword, a familiar cold expression twisted into the world’s most heartless smile.

“Gu Zhenguan, I told you I would trample you underfoot. Do you remember?”

Gu Zhenguan lay in a pool of blood, soaked by the fallen petals around him.

“Han Zhen, why? Aren’t we brothers?”

Han Zhen coldly withdrew his blade and said, “I never considered you my brother. Never!”

Gu Zhenguan woke up, soaked in sweat, wiping away the tears at the corners of his eyes.

The dream felt so real, the sensation of blood leaving his body was so vivid, and the smell of blood hung thick in the air. Unable to bear it any longer, he flung open the door and ran outside, standing in the damp cold of the March night, tears streaming down his face.

‘Why? Why aren’t we brothers? Why don’t you treat me as a brother? I have never harmed you or done anything to hurt you. Why force me into a corner?’

Gu Zhenguan trembled against a pillar, watching the crescent moon sinking in the west. He clearly remembered ten-year-old Han Zhen leaning against the cold palace wall with his arms crossed, speaking in a tone colder than ice and snow: “Gu Zhenguan, I don’t want you to be my friend. Not at all!”

“And no one has told you, right? Your name sounds too feminine; I don’t like it at all!” The young prince, neglected in his youth, stubbornly clung to his pride, looking down on Gu Zhenguan, who was showered with love and attention.

Gu Zhenguan felt frustrated. His mother had consulted a master at the temple, who had said that Gu Zhenguan had a lone star in his fate and needed a feminine name to ward off bad energy.

What the master said was indeed correct; the Gu family had crumbled because of him.

At that time, Gu Zhenguan didn’t understand that this was the last pride of a prince who had lost everything, the last remnants of his dignity. He only felt that he looked so lonely. He thought that they were both lonely in this palace and perhaps could be friends.

The road from Gu Zhenguan to Han Zhen was long and arduous. His heart had closed off the moment his mother had died suddenly; he was unwilling to trust anyone and even less willing to accept charity from others. Gu Zhenguan’s heart was like the warm sun, slowly melting away the wall of ice that had encased his heart.

‘And When Han Zhen Opened His Heart to Welcome Gu Zhenguan…’

The moment Han Zhen opened his heart to welcome Gu Zhenguan was so natural and logical, as if they had been interacting for years. The wary and cold prince had long had his edges smoothed by the river of time, while the gentle and jade-like young master still smiled on the other side with a face full of spring warmth.

But the young master had already met a tragic end beneath three feet of white silk; standing here was merely a caged beast with a fractured soul.

“Ah!”

Chief Eunuch Li Sheng immediately woke up, walked over to the dragon bed, and worriedly said, “Did Your Majesty had another nightmare?”

Han Zhen sat up, calming himself, and looked at the sea of bright yellow that stung his eyes.

“Bring me my box!”

Chief Eunuch Li Sheng was confused but never spoke out of turn. Even though he was so close to the emperor, he could never discern what was inside the emperor’s black box.

Respectfully, he took out the black box from a hidden compartment and handed it to the person on the dragon bed.

Han Zhen held the box in his arms, feeling a sense of peace as he placed it on the bed and lay down gently. The young and ruthless emperor, in that moment, believed in an inexplicable power. The emperor, who commanded the respect of his ministers and admiration of the people, was merely a man who could only sleep with the black box in his embrace.

Stripping away the silk robes and hard shell, he was just an ordinary person afraid of the night and the dreams it brought.

Even with countless bloodstains on his hands, his brows had never faltered; it was only him.

Chief Eunuch Li Sheng dimmed the candlelight, shook his head, and continued to keep watch. He could probably guess what precious treasure was inside.

As expected, Tang Jiwei had a high fever the next day, burning with heat. Madam Xiao cried until her eyes were red, using all her savings to seek a doctor.

Tang Mi stayed by his bedside, heartbroken. She had never read books but had heard many tales, and this seemed to be what the stories described as heaven being jealous of talented individuals—her cousin, so learned, yet always bedridden by illness.

“Brother, are you awake? Get up and drink your medicine.” Seeing Tang Jiwei awake, Tang Mi immediately picked up the medicine bowl filled with a dark, murky liquid that made her throat feel bitter just to look at.

Gu Zhenguan felt that his body was no longer as heavy as it had been a few days ago; he struggled slightly to sit up and drank the medicine in one gulp.

“Why are you here? Where’s my mother?”

Tang Mi looked down, twisting her skirt, and said, “Aunt is off working for someone.”

Gu Zhenguan lowered his eyelids, remembering something. Right, the few pieces of calligraphy!

“Tang Mi, do me a favor and take the rolled-up calligraphy from my desk to the shopkeeper at Xiangfu Zhai. Remember to ask him for the payment.”

Tang Mi was slightly surprised and didn’t understand how her cousin had any connection with Xiangfu Zhai, but her honest nature made her follow Gu Zhenguan’s instructions, finding the pieces of calligraphy and setting off only after Gu Zhenguan assured her he wouldn’t leave the bed.

Gu Zhenguan looked at the pile of other people’s clothes, feeling a pang in his heart. Madam Xiao truly cared for her son; despite their poverty, she never let Tang Jiwei suffer and saved money to send him to the best academy. Even though he had lost his father, he had never lacked love.

‘Tang Jiwei, like me, has a kind and loving mother. I have already let my parents down; I can’t let yours down too.’

From this moment on, there would be no more Gu Zhenguan in the world, only Tang Jiwei.

Tang Mi anxiously returned with five taels of silver ^[1]Tael/taels-an old unit of measurement or currency in East Asia, most specifically China, a sum she had never seen in her life. The silver seemed like it could jump out of her pocket and be discovered at any moment. Usually, she walked gracefully, but she nearly stumbled as she ran back to Tang Jiwei’s room.

“What’s wrong?” Tang Jiwei put down his book, looking at Tang Mi’s flushed face with concern.

Tang Mi pulled out the silver and tossed it onto Tang Jiwei’s bed, stammering, “How could the shopkeeper give you so much money? Is your calligraphy really that valuable?”

Tang Jiwei smiled as he accepted the silver and took out one tael to place in her hand, saying, “There’s a saying that ‘in books, there are golden houses’ ^[2]In books, there are golden houses’ means wealth in words. You’ve heard it, right? This is your fee for running errands; take it to help with your dowry!”

For an ordinary family, one tael of silver was a significant amount, and it would take months of saving copper coins to gather that much! Tang Mi was an honest girl and shook her head, refusing to accept it. For her, getting so much money for just one trip felt undeserved.

“Take it. When you were a kid and chased after me for sweets, you didn’t hesitate!” Tang Jiwei teased her, but he didn’t know about those childhood memories, only hearing about them when Madam Xiao and the aunt would chat.

Tang Mi’s face turned red. Naturally, a girl her age couldn’t help but say that, but she was persuaded by Tang Jiwei to hide the silver. A child who had never done anything wrong had a blush on her face, which made her look like she had been exposed.

When Madam Xiao returned after dealing with a leak, she came to check on her son’s condition and was struck dumb by the sight of the silver before her.

“What… where did this came from?”

Tang Jiwei looked at his pale mother, whose hands were covered in frostbite, and said, “I earned it by writing for someone. Mother, just take it!”

Madam Xiao looked at the four taels of silver in disbelief, glancing back and forth between her son and the money several times, unable to find any flaws.

“Don’t worry, Mother. This money is what we deserve. Tang Mi can testify that I wrote those characters and she delivered them to the shopkeeper at Xiangfu Zhai; it’s definitely from a legitimate source.”

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Author’s Note: Rolling on the ground to sell cuteness and asking for collections and comments!

Little Theater:

Little Master: licking an ice cream “Why doesn’t Lan Lan let us meet?”

Little Prince: sticking a wooden sword into the pond “Because we would fight!”

Little Master: “But we’re not fighting now, are we?”

Little Prince: rolling his eyes “That’s because I don’t owe you a life yet!”