唐龙元年,12月30日,洛阳,除夕.
洛阳市的除夕夜以鞭炮声拉开序幕.
黎明前,城外传来竹竿爆裂的噼啪声.一根根竹竿在冬日晨雾中炸开,摇晃着窗棂,发出嗡嗡声.我躺在床上,半梦半醒,心想:新年到了.这是我在大唐的第一个新年.
清媛天还没亮就起来了,端着一盆热水进来,脸颊绯红."三夫人!快起来!今日宫里有大宴,殿下吩咐您务必出席!"
我停顿了一下."我也是?"
"你是东宫的御医,当然要去!"她递给我一条热毛巾,眼睛闪闪发亮."三夫人,您今天穿什么?那件月白色襦裙我已经熨好了,配上那条浅绿色的腰带——"
"青媛,"我打断她,"我是来参加宴会的,不是来比谁最漂亮的妓女的."
她捂住嘴笑了.
我坐在铜镜前,凝视着镜中映出的身影.那是一张十八九岁的脸,椭圆形的脸庞,眉毛浓密如远山,眼睛虽不大却明亮动人.我的头发梳成一个百合花髻,别着一根银发簪——是他送我的那根.身上穿着月白色襁褓,系着浅绿色丝带腰带,外面罩着一件白色狐皮大衣.朴素却又十分得体.
青媛在一旁看着,突然说道:"三夫人,你今天真漂亮."
"美貌有什么用?"我站起身."走吧,别迟到."
宫廷宴会
洛阳宫的新年晚宴在应天殿举行.
我到达时,大殿已是座无虚席.文武官员身着红,绿,青三色长袍,如彩虹般绚丽,分列两侧.各国使节身着民族服饰,坐在前排.大殿内数百盏宫灯高挂,照亮了整个大厅,如同白昼一般明亮.鎏金香炉中袅袅的烟雾在灯光下袅袅,袅袅袅,袅袅袅,优雅迷人.
我坐在东宫的桌旁,位置不靠前也不靠后.青元说,这是因为我是"东宫御医",算是东宫的官员,所以才有座位.我刚一落座,对面几位官员就瞥了我一眼,眼神中既有好奇,也有轻蔑.在他们眼里,一个女人坐在朝廷官员中间,想必是难得一见的景象.
我没有理会他们,目光扫过人群,最终落在大厅中央最高的座位上.
他坐在皇帝的右边,那是太子的位置.
Today he wore the Crown Prince's court robes—black upper garment, reddish lower garment, a belt of gold and jade, and a distant-traveling crown on his head. He sat there, back straight, gaze steady, just as in court. But I noticed his eyes swept across the crowd; when they saw me, they paused for a moment. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, then quickly returned to neutral.
Emperor Li Dan sat at the very top. In his fifties, with a lean face and gentle features, he looked less like the天子 (Son of Heaven) I had imagined and more like a Confucian scholar. He raised his wine cup, and the officials shouted in unison, "Long live ten thousand years!" The sound spread out from Yingtian Hall, wave upon wave, like a tide.
"Ten thousand years to the Great Tang!""Long live Your Majesty!"
I sat at my seat, watching all this, suddenly feeling a sense of unreality. This was the Great Tang. This was the Great Tang from a thousand years ago. I was here, watching its Emperor, its Crown Prince, its civil and military officials. This was not a mural in a museum, nor text in a textbook. It was alive. Breathing.
Music began. It was the palace teaching troupe orchestra—chime bells, flutes, zithers, and pipas—playing a solemn yayue (elegant music). It sounded good, but it was too rigid, like agongbi (meticulous brushwork) painting; every stroke was precise, but it lacked the warmth of human life.
I suddenly remembered something.
Before coming to Luoyang, the owner of the shoe shop next to the clinic had played a tune, said to be from the Western Regions, with a bright rhythm, passionate and unrestrained. When I heard it then, I suddenly thought of a modern piece—Xu Mengyuan's"China." That piece fused Chinese folk music with electronic music and was particularly popular among Chinese international students in Vancouver during the New Year. Every time I heard it, I felt homesick.
What if... what if the melody of that piece were played on Tang Dynasty instruments?
"Qingyuan," I whispered.
"Hmm?"
"Do you know any musicians from the teaching troupe?"
"Yes! There's a bili player who often comes to the clinic for dental work."
"Help me arrange to see him. Before tonight."
Qingyuan's eyes widened. "Tonight? Third Lady, what are you planning?"
"To rehearse a piece."
Rehearsal
Shen Hour (3-5 PM). Two hours before the evening banquet.
The musicians of the teaching troupe sat in a side hall resting. Seeing me enter, they all froze. A woman, wearing the attire of an Eastern Palace official, holding a piece of paper covered in dense markings.
"Which one is Liu Da, the bili player?"
"I-I am." A man in his thirties stood up, seeing me, and paused. "Doctor Gu? Why have you come?"
"Liu Da, do me a favor." I unfolded the paper. "Can this piece be arranged?"
He leaned in to look. On the paper was drawn simplified musical notation—not the Tang Dynasty'sgongche notation, but a simplified version of the five-line staff I had drawn myself. Notes, rhythm, dynamics, all clearly marked.
"W-what kind of notation is this?" He frowned.
"A new kind of notation. I will teach you."
He hesitated. "Doctor Gu, tonight is the New Year's Eve banquet, His Majesty's imperial feast. If we don't perform well—"
"We will perform well," I said. "Trust me."
He looked at me, probably remembering the experience of having his toothache cured by me, and gritted his teeth. "Alright. I trust Doctor Gu."
The musicians gathered around. Bili, pipa, zither, sheng, xiao, jiegu drum, chime bells. I deconstructed the melody of"China" into seven parts, teaching each part separately. The bili took the main melody, the pipa the counter-melody, the zither and sheng provided harmonic backing, the xiao floated in the high register, the jiegu kept the rhythm, and the chime bells joined in during the chorus.
"Here, the bili needs to be brighter. Yes, like the feeling of firecrackers exploding during New Year."
"Pipa, the tremolo here needs to be fast. Not just fast, but—urgent. Like horse hooves treading on snow."
"Jiegu, you are the backbone of this entire piece. The backbone cannot be soft."
The musicians went from initial confusion to gradually finding the feel, and finally to their eyes lighting up. When the bili player Liu Da reached the chorus, he was so excited his face turned red.
"Doctor Gu, what piece is this?"
"China," I said. "A piece dedicated to the Great Tang."
The Evening Banquet
You Hour (5-7 PM). Yingtian Hall.
The palace banquet officially began. Hundreds of palace lanterns were all lit, making the hall as bright as day. Officials raised their cups, glasses clinking. The musicians sat on the music platform at the side of the hall; chime bells, flutes, zithers, playing solemn elegant music.
Emperor Li Dan sat at the top, his expression gentle, occasionally speaking a few words to the officials beside him. He seemed in good spirits, having drunk three cups of wine, a slight flush on his face.
I sat at my seat, distractedly picking at my food. My fingers tapped lightly on the rhythm under the table.
He sat at the top, glancing at me through the crowd, raising an eyebrow slightly. I shook my head.
Xu Hour (7-9 PM). After three rounds of wine. The Emperor put down his cup and smiled. "Today is New Year's Eve; let all ministers rejoice with Me. Are there any new songs to present?"
The Head of the Teaching Troupe stepped forward. "Your Majesty, today there is a new piece, jointly arranged by Gu Shi, the Medical Doctor of the Eastern Palace, and the musicians of the Teaching Troupe. We request Your Majesty's appreciation."
The hall fell silent for a moment. All eyes fell on me. The few officials opposite whispered—a woman arranging a piece?
The Emperor looked at me, his gaze gentle. "Oh? Does Master Gu also compose music?"
I stood up, walked to the center of the hall, and bowed. "Your Majesty, your servant does not compose music. This piece is one your servant brought from a very faraway place. Dedicated to Your Majesty, dedicated to the Great Tang."
The Emperor smiled. "Good. Play it."
I stepped aside. The music began.
The sound of the bili floated out from the music platform, loud and passionate, like a firework exploding in the winter night. The pipa followed, its tremolo as urgent as horse hooves treading on snow. The zither and sheng laid the foundation below, steady as the earth. The xiao floated in the high register, like wind, like clouds, like snow on distant mountains. The jiegu laid the base, beat by beat, like a heartbeat.
In the chorus, the chime bells joined in. Golden sounds and jade vibrations resonated through the entire great hall.
The hall was extremely quiet. Everyone stopped their chopsticks, stopped their conversations, their gazes fixed on the music platform. The Emperor leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly on the armrest to the rhythm. He gazed into the distance—at the music platform, at the night sky outside the hall, at some faraway place. Ministers whispered; some nodded, some tapped along. Several young men sitting in the corner tapped the rhythm on the table with their fingers. Envoys from various nations widened their eyes; one Hu merchant stood up, then sat down again.
The music grew higher and higher, denser and denser. The bili and pipa intertwined like two rivers merging into the sea. The jiegu became more and more urgent, like ten thousand horses galloping. The chime bells exploded at the highest point, golden sounds and jade vibrations—
Then, it stopped abruptly.
The hall was silent for three breaths.
The Emperor laughed. He stood up and lightly tapped the table. "Excellent!"
The officials followed suit, standing up; applause and cheers mixed together like a tide. I stood in the center of the hall, my heart beating fast. Not from nervousness, but because—this piece, from Vancouver thirteen hundred years in the future, had traveled to Luoyang Palace of the Great Tang. It had found its roots.
The Emperor looked at me, appreciation in his eyes. "Master Gu, what is the name of this piece?"
"China," I said. "Your Majesty, it means 'Great Tang'."
The Emperor repeated it. China. A good name. I like it very much."
He raised his wine cup. "Come, let us toast to this piece, to the Great Tang. Cheers!"
"Cheers!" The officials raised their cups.
He also raised his cup. Through the crowd, his gaze fell on my face. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly; his eyes were very bright.
I smiled too.
Leaving the Palace
Hai Hour (9-11 PM). The palace banquet ended.
Officials gradually took their leave one by one. The Emperor was supported by eunuchs back to his sleeping quarters; ministers walked out of Yingtian Gate in groups of two or three. I stood under the eaves outside the hall, waiting for Qingyuan to fetch my fox fur coat.
A hand reached out from behind and draped a large cloak over my shoulders.
"Your Highness—"
"Shh." He stood behind me, a finger pressed to his lips. "Don't make a sound."
He had changed out of the Crown Prince's court robes into an ordinary moon-white round-collar robe, covered by a black large cloak. The distant-traveling crown was removed; his hair was tied loosely with just a jade hairpin. Exactly the same as when he was in Chang'an before.
"What is Your Highness planning?"
"To take you out of the palace." He grabbed my wrist. "Go."
"What—"
He had already pulled me toward the side gate. Chen Xuanli waited at the door; seeing us, he looked helplessly resigned.
"Your Highness, if His Majesty finds out—"
"If you don't say anything, how would he know?" He vaulted onto his horse and extended his hand. "Qingyan, come up."
I hesitated for a moment, then handed him my hand. He pulled hard, lifting me onto the horse's back, seating me in front of him.
"Hold on tight."
I grasped his arm. He spurred the horse and charged out of the palace gate.
The New Year's Eve night in Luoyang City was even livelier than the day.
The ward gates were not closed. The Jinwu (night patrol) did not enforce curfew. The entire city was lit with lights—red, yellow, white, purple—hung at doors, windows, and on trees. There were more people on the streets than during the day. Children in new clothes ran around holding lanterns, adults chasing behind shouting "Slow down, slow down!" Vendors selling candied hawthorns were surrounded tightly; the old man selling Hu cakes kept his stove burning red, steam condensing into white mist in the cold air. Someone was setting off firecrackers,crackle pop, scaring children into screaming and covering their ears.
He slowed the horse's pace, weaving slowly through the crowd. I sat in front of him, my back against his chest, able to feel his heartbeat.
"Is it beautiful?" he asked.
"It is beautiful."
"Compared to your Vancouver?"
I thought for a moment. "Different. Christmas in Vancouver is lively, but not with this many people. No firecrackers, no lanterns, no—"
"No what?"
"No 'New Year flavor'."
He laughed. "What does 'New Year flavor' smell like?"
"The smell of gunpowder from firecrackers, the sesame scent of Hu cakes, the sweet and sour taste of candied hawthorns." I paused. "And Your Highness's scent."
He said nothing, but I felt his chest vibrate slightly—he was laughing.
The horse stopped by the Luo River. The river embankment was crowded with people, all watching the river lanterns. Hundreds upon thousands of river lanterns drifted on the Luo River; candlelight swayed on the water surface, like a flowing galaxy.
He vaulted off the horse and helped me down.
"Your Highness—" I stood on the embankment, looking at the river full of lights, suddenly finding myself speechless.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Just thinking—it's too beautiful."
He stood beside me, watching the river lanterns on the Luo River.
"When I was young, while Mother was still alive, she would take me to the Luo River on New Year's Eve to watch the lanterns," his voice was very light. "Later, after she left, I never came to watch again."
He didn't continue. But I understood. On those New Year's Eves, he sat alone in a corner, watching others reunite. No one accompanied him to watch the river lanterns.
"Your Highness."
"Hmm?"
"In the future, every New Year's Eve, I will accompany you to watch the river lanterns."
He turned to look at me. Lantern light reflected in his eyes, flickering bright and dim.
"Good," he said.
On the Luo River, the river lanterns continued to drift. One by one, like stars fallen onto the water. On the shore, people set off firecrackers,crackle pop; children laughed and played. In the distance, a vendor carried a wonton stall; steam rose in the winter night, mixing with the scent of green onions.
"Qingyan."
"Hmm?"
"Do you know, I had a wish when I was young?"
"What wish?"
"When I grew up, to ensure that the common people of the Great Tang could all celebrate a good New Year."
He looked at me.
"Not the kind of 'good' where everyone has enough to eat and wear. But the kind where during New Year, a father can buy a string of candied hawthorns for his child, a husband can buy a silver hairpin for his wife, a family can hang a lantern at their door. That kind of good."
I looked at him. Lantern light spread out behind him, outlining his silhouette with a golden rim. His eyes were very bright, brighter than the river lanterns, brighter than the moonlight.
"Your Highness."
"Hmm?"
"You have already achieved it."
He paused. I pointed to the crowd on the shore—the father buying candied hawthorns for his child, the man holding his wife's hand watching the river lanterns, the old man hanging a lantern at his door.
"They are living well," I said. "Because of you."
He was silent for a long time. Then he smiled. That smile was different from every time before. Not the smile of a youth, not the smile of a Crown Prince. It was a deeper, heavier smile, like the earth itself.
"Qingyan."
"Hmm?"
"Thank you."
"Thank me for what?"
"For spending New Year with me." He held my hand. "For coming from such a faraway place."
我紧紧握住他的手.洛河上,河灯依旧漂浮;岸边,鞭炮声此起彼伏.洛阳的夜晚热闹非凡,但此刻,我耳边只有他的心跳声.
远处传来钟声,那是洛阳宫的钟声,一下一下,响彻全城.旧年已逝,新年已至.
他站在我身旁,握着我的手.河灯在我们脚下流动,成千上万盏灯闪烁.这就是大唐.这就是千年前的大唐.而我,就在这里.在他身边.
"殿下."
"唔?"
"以后每个除夕夜,我都会和你一起度过."
"好的."
"每年我都会陪你去看河灯."
"好的."
"每年我都会对你说新年快乐."
他笑了笑,握紧了我的手."很好."
洛河上,河灯依旧随波逐流;岸边,鞭炮声此起彼伏.洛阳的夜晚热闹非凡,但此刻,我的世界里只有他.
（第十一章完）