Work Text:
The sunset rays fell like soft gold on the walls and floor, shining in the skillful patterns of the carved windows. The place was immersed in a lazy, dreamy silence, broken only by the occasional trill of birds, the chirping of insects, and the lazy quacking of ducks in the pond. The translucent tulle above the bed rose in smooth, gentle waves as soon as the wind slipped into the room, carrying with it the fragrant scent of flowers. The young Emperor sat in front of a low table, gazing thoughtfully at the landscape beyond the window.
The papers on the table in front of him were covered in ink, words that had been unsuccessfully rearranged again and again huddled next to each other. Unsure, unfinished.
Chang Geng thoughtlessly adjusted his long, flowing sleeves – even after years of wearing the Imperial robes, they sometimes felt unnecessary and burdensome. Especially at moments like this. He couldn't help but let out a quiet, rather inelegant sigh and glance again at the awkward words mercilessly smudging the paper. The animals carved in relief on the table legs seemed to look at him with an almost palpable indignation.
How could he extract his feelings, fit them into small lines, and convey them to another person? One would think that over the years, it should have become easier, but time after time, Chang Geng found himself in the same difficult situation. His feelings refused to be constrained, locked into words on paper. The words felt incomplete, broken off, and Chang Geng had the sense that he had to mercilessly leave something out, unable to say it all. Perhaps, in the end, it was not so important; they had always been men of action for each other.
But Gu Yun was far away in the north, drawn into his duties as if swallowed by a vast, unrelenting machine. The Emperor remained diligently in the capital, enduring meetings with officials like a flock of wild geese. Another forced separation swirled around his heart like a quiet, tame typhoon.
The brush that the Marshal had once given him was back in his hand, frozen in indecision, like a timid and unfamiliar animal.
Somewhere outside, the quacking of ducks and the splash of water echoed through the air. Last year, the birds had chosen to settle in the newly improved pond on the estate. Chang Geng disliked extraneous, sharp noise, but Gu Yun, surprisingly, had found in his heart an unexpected tenderness for small creatures.
It seemed that wherever Chang Geng looked, his presence – the trace of his hand, his thoughts – silently hovered everywhere. His belongings lay in the closet, and among the jewelry Chang Geng had accumulated over the years, a decent number were gifts from Gu Yun. One half of the bed was empty, and sometimes, lying at night on the edge of wakefulness, Chang Geng could almost hear his sleepy voice lulling him back to sleep, as if the thousands of li between them meant nothing at all.
These thoughts gently irritated the lingering ache caused by distance. Even the quacking of ducks, which he did not particularly like – just from hearing their sound, Chang Geng would immediately, as if in a hazy dream see Gu Yun's sincerely playful smile, hear his quiet, deep laughter. He stood on a slightly sloping bank, a willow's shadow affectionately shielding him from the hot weight of the midday sun. Sparkling reflections of the water danced against his face, playing mischievously in his smiling eyes. It was so hot that sweat trickled down the back of his neck, and everything around him looked like a mirage. He stood lazily, leaning against the tree trunk, holding fresh bread in his hands, and he broke off piece after piece to throw to the then timid ducks.
Chang Geng was not sure how they had managed to get used to Gu Yun's rather restless nature so quickly. But judging from himself and all the years of their acquaintance, he understood – there was something so deep, vast, and full of inner strength in this person that time and again transformed into the same boundless care and protection, whether in war or peacetime. Like a naive duckling, Chang Geng found himself longing to cling to that gentle, caring hand.
Gu Yun was not nearby now, but everything around him still seemed to breath his presence.
Chang Geng took out a fresh sheet of paper and gazed at it helplessly, lost in thought. A strong, irrepressible desire to reach out to his beloved through words swirled inside him.
He dipped the brush into the ink, holding back the wide sleeve with his other hand. Then, like an extension of his body connected directly to his heart – the brush moved across the paper.
***
“All that my soul desires in moments of such separation is to write words that can touch your heart, even if a hundred thousand li stand between us. Will you feel the caress of my brush as it glides across this paper? My excitement and trepidation that stir within me when your image visits my thoughts again and again? My longing for you? You are far away in the north, and I'm bound by too many obligations, but I dare not stop dreaming of you alone.
Everything is well with me; the capital is calm and does not warrant your concern. The ducks in our pond miss your care, sending me their complaints day and night. Without you by my side, their chatter brings me little joy, but I know you would find comfort in their presence.
Yet their longing for you is nothing compared to mine.
Are the conditions in the north favorable? Are you eating well and getting enough rest? I dream that you will care for yourself as I would care for you. With this letter, I send a piece of myself to the north, hoping it will bring you peace.
In these nights, do you hold thoughts of me as dearly as I hold thoughts of you? Know that you are never far from my dreams.
May the road be easy, the weather kind to you, and our reunion come swiftly."