The Emperor’s Beloved Ugly Girl

78. The Thirty-Second Memorial

Translator: Iris Guo

When Zhong Mingwei was a child, he extremely hated the Qixi Festival, because on that day he had to go to the Baohua Temple hungry and listen to the dull monks repeat The Mantra of Rebirth in Pureland. Besides, he was more tired of the imperial harem’s crying. They would go into hysterics, or try to look like weeping beauties, or pretend to be delicate and touching…

It was his birthday!

Why did he always have to spend his birthday like this!

Zhong Mingwei knew that it was his mother’s memorial tablet on the table. So what? Why did people repeatedly remind him that his mother lost her life in exchange for his birth?

He neither wanted this to happen nor could make a choice.

Was it really his fault?

Or was he really so unforgivable that he deserved to sacrifice his joy for the rest of his life?

…

Once Zhong Mingwei was furious and roared with rage about how he spent his birthday. He even rushed into the Imperial Study and made a terrible scene in front of his father, which resulted in a month of confinement in the Court of the Imperial Clan. When he was released, he lost ten kilos and could hardly keep his feet.

The Court of the Imperial Clan was specially set for punishing members of the imperial family generations ago. No matter how powerful he was, as long as the Emperor declared that he misconducted, he would suffer more in the Court of the Imperial Clan than at the Judicial Department’s prison.

When Zhong Mingwei was twelve, he became the first prince of the Great Zhou Dynasty to be imprisoned in the Court of the Imperial Clan.

Since he was released, he had undergone a personal transformation. The reckless teenager who enjoyed the lavish lifestyle disappeared, and had grown into a shrewd prince who would never be swayed. Since then, he didn’t need others to wake him on the Qixi Festival because he would sit alone in his study and look at the garden outside to spend the night before, be it starless, misty, or rainy in the chilly evening. Nobody could figure out what he was thinking.

Zhong Mingwei grew up as he participated in more and more of his late mother’s memorials. He started to kneel in front of her memorial tablet with his back straight as a ramrod. Besides, when he listened to the monks repeat The Mantra of Rebirth in Pureland and the harem’s crying, he wouldn’t get tired anymore.

It seemed that everything was the way it should be.

When the Empress Dowager patted him on the shoulder and praised him for being thoughtful, he smiled and said nothing.

…

Today, it was the late Empress’ thirty-second death memorial.

If Zhong Mingwei was still at the Imperial Palace, he would be kneeling on the cold hard floor of the Baohua Temple. At present, although he was a paralytic living in a shabby house at a small town in the barren border area, he felt at ease, inside and out.

At dawn, Zhong Mingwei got thirsty. He puckered his lips, heard A’Chou walk at a brisk pace, and couldn’t help smiling.

“Thirsty?” A’Chou came in with a tray. There were two soup bowls, which were covered by another two bowls. Zhong Mingwei didn’t know what was inside, but it smelled really nice.

He stared at the bowls, and his stomach rumbled, but A’Chou was still senseless. She poured him a cup of tea: “Tea first. It’s perfectly warm.”

Zhong Mingwei either lay or lay prone on his bed, which caused slow digestion and frequent gasteremphraxis. Therefore, after rubbing his stomach for several days in a row, A’Chou set a rule that he should have tea before meals.

He hastened to finish his tea, licked his lips, and stared at the bowls again. His manners and dignity had totally disappeared.

A’Chou knew that Zhong Mingwei was hungry, so she put the bowl of steaming noodles with soup in front of him. He saw yellow noodles in the white soup, and there was a spoonful of shredded chilli on the top as well as a handful of green vegetables on one side.