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Taiping flower
Guo Jia came to see Prince Guangling for the last time when he accompanied the army on an expedition. At that time, Guo Jia was being nurtured by the best medicine, and his complexion had improved a lot. He paced around in Prince Guangling's study with his hands behind his back, seemingly exploring the room as if it were his first time there. He even turned the flowers in the porcelain vase, saying they looked better this way. Prince Guangling, who was busy with official documents, absentmindedly responded. It wasn't until Guo Jia sat beside him that he suddenly realized Guo Jia seemed to have something to say. Guo Jia's eyes were clear, with curved willow-leaf eyebrows like a warm spring covered in mist. Guo Jia said, "Your Highness, I'm leaving."
At that time, Prince Guangling had not yet grasped the meaning of Guo Jia's words. He just nodded and said, "I sent you to accompany the army on the expedition, so of course I know you're leaving." But Guo Jia smiled. Over a decade had passed, and the young girl he first met had gained some wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, but she was still playful, just like when she used to tug at his sleeve to plead for the people, blinking her round eyes so cutely. Guo Jia caressed Prince Guangling's head, and repeated, "Alright, Your Highness, I'm leaving."
So when the news of Guo Jia's serious illness spread, Prince Guangling was unwilling to believe it. Clearly, he looked fine when he left, so how could he suddenly fall seriously ill? Although unwilling to believe it, he still sent Hua Tuo and Zhang Zhongjing to the front line to save him, but it was too late. Guo Jia's body couldn't even hold on until the two doctors arrived, and all that came back was a death notice and a pale corpse.
Prince Guangling stood in the courtyard to personally receive the body and personally buried it, like every departing spy, she had long been accustomed to farewells. After stepping over the brazier and returning to the study, sparrow reported to Prince Guangling that a singer had sent a brocade pouch, saying it was sent by Mr. Fengxiao. Prince Guangling took the item and entered the study alone. Inside the brocade pouch was only a hastily folded piece of paper. Unfolding it, Guo Jia's words appeared before her, a brief sentence that made Prince Guangling collapse to the ground. She was a prince of the Han dynasty, and in her lifetime, she had only knelt before the emperor and the Three Pure Ones.
Today I kneel and bid farewell to my teacher, never to meet again in this lifetime.
Guo Jia said, "The path to becoming a king is right before our eyes."
In the courtyard of Prince Guangling, there is a grand Taiping flower tree, but it never blooms throughout the year. Occasionally, it produces small flower buds every few years, only to be drowned by continuous heavy rain. Even The best gardener has examined it and found no issues with the flower tree. However, when Guo Jia visited, he mentioned that Biyong's library also had a Taiping flower tree, which bloomed with beautiful flowers whiter than snow every year, only to be burned in a fire.
Guo Jia said, "When the peace flowers bloom, it is a time of peace in the world."
Prince Guangling looked up and saw the first bud of peace flowers blooming by the window, blurred by tears into a patch of snow.
Thirty death notices
The news of Guo Jia's death came with the first autumn rain. When Jia Xu received the letter, he didn't have much of a reaction, just nodded slightly to indicate that he knew.
Then as usual, she stood in the courtyard of the Embroidered Attire Tower, slowly watering the flowers with a wooden spoon. However, the flowers, drenched in autumn rain, seemed to be drowning.
A few days later, Guo Jia's body was brought back, covered with a white cloth. The always unassuming man lay stiffly in place.
Jia Xu stood outside the hall without going in, watching the people coming and going, and recalling some old stories. At that time, Guo Jia was very difficult to deal with, and he loved to say strange things. Even on a peaceful lake cruise, he would tell stories about water ghosts dragging people to scare them.
Guo Jia lay on Jia Xu's back, pressing him to touch the water in the lake. Jia Xu wanted to push him to the side, but he was worried that Guo Jia would really fall into the water, so he could only grit his teeth and ask Guo Jia to get off.
Guo Jia smiled and gently ran his fingers through the green water, leaving ripples behind. He whispered to Jia Xu, "Wenhe, do you know? Tears are a heavy burden, they can weigh down the soul of the dead, preventing them from moving on, from being reborn. When I die, you must not cry."
Jia Xu pushed Guo Jia and said, "Who would cry for you?" Guo Jia fell back onto the small boat and continued, "Also, Wenhe, when tears fall on the dead, they become moles in their next life, it's a mark..."
Guo Jia's words are light and ethereal, like tiny floating duckweed passing by the boat, leaving a shallow, shallow trace.
Jia Xu stood by the coffin, looking at Guo Jia's withered face. Even with his affectionate eyes closed, they still carried a seductive meaning.
The hand holding the cane was trembling, but Jia Xu still reached out to touch Guo Jia's face, feeling the cracked lips he hated the most.
Then Jia Xu asked softly, "Who allowed you to die, Guo Fengxiao?"
No one answered him, and the empty hall only echoed with the sound of the wind passing through the white silk.
Guo Jia's death seemed to have no impact on Jia Xu, as he continued to work for Prince Guangling as usual, and even seemed to be more pleasant to be around.
At first, Prince Guangling would still indirectly criticize Jia Xu's state, but after being picked on so many times, he stopped asking.
Several months after Guo Jia's death, the first snow of winter fell in Guangling. Jia Xu sat by the window, holding a brush to paint. When reaching for the brush, he accidentally knocked over the spice box on the table, and tobacco ash and a strand of unburned incense from the deceased spilled out of the box.
Jia Xu stood still in a daze, not knowing when Guo Jia had secretly emptied the tobacco ash into his spice box.
When he finally realized, a tear fell onto the table, scattering a thousand rays of dust.
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