Chapter 40: A Letter from the Lotus Land

“What does the reason matter?”

“The important thing is that you chose that horse.”

“It is enough that it looks plausible to those who do not know the circumstances.”

“Since he is intelligent and follows people well, it will not be dangerous even if your horsemanship is lacking.”

“So, try to build a good bond with him.”

“I shall strive to do so.”

The Emperor lingered even after the lunch table was cleared, leisurely sipping his tea and sharing various stories.

“In the military, a horse is something of a comrade-in-arms, so I fed and washed my horse with my own hands.”

“Though I could not do it every time, I did so whenever possible.”

“Empress, you should also brush your horse whenever training is finished.”

“That way, you will be able to grow closer more quickly.”

“I shall keep that in mind.”

The Emperor gazed into the distance with a look that seemed somewhat nostalgic.

“Recalling my time in the military makes me miss those days.”

For some reason, he began to pour out stories that Haeryeong had not even asked for.

“Since I never imagined I would become Emperor when I was young, I joined the military as soon as I came of age and was away from the Imperial Palace for a long time.”

“At that time, a war was in full swing against the barbarians in the border regions, so we could not even wash ourselves properly.”

“One day, Manchul was nagging me so much that I had to break the ice in the dead of winter just to wash my face.”

“In my youthful spite, I was so irritated that I took the broken shards of ice and threw them directly onto Manchul’s bed.”

He laughed with his eyes narrowed, as if his time in the army were a fond memory.

Haeryeong quietly scanned the unfamiliar face of the Emperor.

Seen this way, he merely looked like a man full of mischief.

However, that was the extent of Haeryeong’s impression.

What did it matter to know now that he had been a boisterous warrior?

He only wondered why the man’s backside was so heavy today.

‘Are you not going to the Great Hall?’

Sighs continued to pile up in his chest as he suppressed the urge to lie down and rest his exhausted body.

It was just as the Emperor finally managed to lift his heavy frame.

Iryeon, who had been waiting outside, entered and handed Haeryeong a piece of paper that appeared to be a letter.

“What is this?”

“An express courier has arrived from Yeonseo.”

Haeryeong’s eyes immediately reddened as he realized why Iryeon had hurriedly brought a letter that she would normally have handed over when the Emperor was absent.

It was likely because of the letter he had been unable to finish writing before.

She must have noticed Haeryeong’s longing for the family he left behind in Yeonseo and rushed the delivery.

His throat tightened with gratitude for her thoughtfulness.

Haeryeong held the letter he received from Iryeon and checked the Emperor’s reaction.

‘Will he not leave now that he has stood up?’

Whatever the Emperor thought of Haeryeong’s glance, he instead drew closer and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“It seems a letter has arrived from your home country.”

“Is it from the Grand Lady of the State? It must be a long-awaited message, so go ahead and open it.”

“Your grace is boundless.”

Haeryeong let out a sigh without letting the man notice and pulled out the letter.

Tears welled in his eyes at the scent of his mother lingering on the paper.

Seeing something tucked between the sheets, he realized it was a small perfume sachet.

Haeryeong brought the sachet, which was steeped in the fragrance of lotus, to his face and took a deep breath.

“It is the scent of lotus.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Haeryeong quietly rubbed the fabric, which had become soft from being boiled several times, with his fingertips.

“The Empress’s face looks quite sorrowful.”

In response to the Emperor’s oblivious question, Haeryeong swallowed the hot lump in his throat and parted his dry lips.

“It is a sachet made from my first infant tunic.”

Fiddling with the sachet that held the heavy, lingering scent of the mother he missed so dearly, Haeryeong opened the letter with a trembling heart.

The neatly written characters were also the nostalgic handwriting he hadn’t seen in years.

Haeryeong read the letter in a rush, not even noticing the Emperor’s arm wrapping around his waist.

[It is already the third month of spring once more.]

[The season has heartlessly returned—the same season when the child I raised within the folds of my skirt grew up and left to find a spouse.]

[My son, are you faring well in that distant foreign land?]

[This mother finds herself unable to sleep whenever this season arrives.]

[Lately, my dreams have been unsettled, and I lost sleep for several days; sure enough, word arrived that Your Highness was suffering from a fever.]

[My heart grew so dark with worry that I hurried to write these few lines to you.]

Just as the letter said it was written in haste, it was much shorter than usual.

However, the detailed concern packed within those lines caused tears to burst forth.

As droplets fell onto the thin rice paper, the ink quickly began to bleed.

Haeryeong stared at the sight with blurred vision before bringing both hands, still clutching the letter, to his face.

Even the sound of the thin paper crinkling as if it would crumble made his chest ache as if it were being sliced into pieces.

‘Mother.’

Haeryeong bit his lip and suppressed the call that threatened to escape through his longing.

As Haeryeong shivered while holding back his sobs, the Emperor, who had his arm around his waist, made a low, soothing sound.

Only then did Haeryeong realize the man was stuck right to his side; he turned to look at him with wide, startled eyes.

“I am… sorry.”

The Emperor pressed his lips to Haeryeong’s wet cheek and asked softly.

“What is there to be sorry for? It is only natural for a child to miss their mother.”

The Emperor used his large hand to gently stroke Haeryeong’s abdomen.

The soft gesture, as if soothing a child with a stomachache, caused the sorrowful tears to subside.

“It seems your afternoon will be quite busy, so I should be heading back.”

After gently dabbing a cheek, he cupped both of Haeryeong’s cheeks and gave him a light kiss.

“Do not cry too much.”

Haeryeong lowered his eyes in bewilderment and quietly bent his knees in a bow.

“I apologize.”

“…At times like this, a simple ‘farewell’ kiss is quite enough.”

“You truly are a difficult person.”

The Emperor leaned down toward Haeryeong, who had straightened his posture in a fluster, and offered his cheek.

“Come now, do it.”

He looked as though he intended to wait until he received a kiss.

Haeryeong had no choice but to approach him, place a hand on his broad chest, and press his lips to his cheek.

“I wish you a safe journey.”

“I shall see you again tonight.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

After the Emperor left, Iryeon bustled about and brought out writing materials.

Haeryeong watched as the paper and brushes were laid out on the desk, then carefully unfolded the crumpled letter once more.

His eyes grew wet again as he read the passages where his mother’s heart, surely pained by the sudden break in his monthly letters, was so poignantly melted into the ink.

Listening to the sound of Iryeon grinding the ink stick beside the desk, Haeryeong read the letter over and over.

He traced the spots where tear stains had spread, only to realize the dried tears were not his own.

How her heart must have burned, having sent away the only Eumin son she, the lawful queen, had borne.

Haeryeong let out a low sigh, sat at the desk, and picked up the brush.

While he had found nothing to say that other day, this time his hand seemed to have grown wings as he rapidly filled the white paper.

[The longing for my mother who dwells in a distant place is the same for your son.]

[When the sun rises, I gaze at the clouds drifting toward Yeonseo; when the moon rises, I wonder if Mother is looking at the same moon.]

[When I weep from the desire to see you, I meet you in my dreams every night.]

[Though it has been several years since I left, the image of Mother in my dreams is always as you were ten years ago.]

[Do you remember the day we first went to view the lotus flowers together, with Mother elegantly dressed in a green jacket and red skirt?]

[The memory of that day, when you held my hand tightly for fear I might fall into the water, is still so vivid that I envision it in my dreams every time.]

Haeryeong, who had been writing in a single breath up to this point, took a long exhale and turned his head toward the window.

Seeing the empty perch by the window made him miss Changcheon.

If he too had wings, he would have flown across the vast sky to Yeonseo long ago.

If he could not be a bird, he wanted to be a cloud, becoming a single drop of rain that wetted his mother’s fingertips.

He wanted to fly far away through the sky, riding the wind to return to his mother’s side.

Haeryeong squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them, staring with melancholy eyes at the ink dripping from his brush and spreading on the paper.

“Oh my. Your Highness, I shall change the paper for you.”

Haeryeong shook his head quietly at Iryeon as she tried to pull out a new sheet.

“It is fine.”

Instead, Haeryeong moved his hand to draw a long, thin line.

With a few movements of his hand, the round ink blot became the head of a crane.

After drawing a large mother crane with a fish in its beak and its head lowered, he diluted the ink to add a fluffy grey baby crane.

After depicting the scene of the baby bird receiving a fish from its mother, his longing for his distant mother grew even more intense.

Haeryeong set down the brush and quietly rose from his seat.

‘Even if I only send this, Mother will understand.’

‘She will know how much her son misses her.’

His mother would know that his heart wanted to say “I miss you” more than words like “I am fine” or “I am doing well.”

‘That is enough.’

‘What use are greetings of well-being when I am in a position where I can never return to see her?’

Haeryeong walked past Iryeon, who was waiting for the letter to dry, and approached the window to open it.

In the sky that had fully turned to spring, white mountain-peak clouds were billowing.

The clouds caught on the edge of the mountains remained motionless, as if there were no wind at all.

Haeryeong exhaled a small sigh, hoping a wind would soon blow to help those clouds find their way.

“Iryeon-ah.”

“Yes, Your Highness. Please give your command.”

Haeryeong spoke while still keeping his eyes on the distant sky through the window.

“Once the ink is dry, deliver it to the express courier.”

“Yes, Your Highness. But… will you not be sending the gift you prepared throughout the winter?”

“Ah.”

Only then did Haeryeong remember that he had sent a birthday gift for his mother around this time every year, for her birthday in early April.

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