bookrandom Chapter 1083 Kyoto, Imperial Palace
Chapter 1083 Kyoto, Imperial Palace
Kyoto, Imperial Palace, Royal Garden.
In the depths of winter, the needles of the century-old pine trees in the garden rustled in the rising cold wind, the sound delicate and continuous, like countless tiny jade beads rolling across a glass plate.
The sound of pine trees mingled with the last splendor of maple leaves; those shades of red and yellow, under the pale sunlight, resembled solidified flames, burning with the last vitality of the season.
The Tang-style "Biao Yuzuo" stands quietly deep in the garden, with black tiles and white walls, and flying eaves like wings. Under the afternoon sun, it casts a majestic and silent shadow, which is very long and almost touches the white sand ripples of the dry landscape garden not far away.
This is a world completely different from the outer garden. There is no clamor of human voices, no noise of vehicles, and even the birdsong seems restrained and distant, as if even the birds know that this place is no ordinary place and no one is allowed to trespass.
Only attendants dressed in ancient-style belted robes and wearing specially made soft-soled shoes moved silently between the corridors and courtyards like real shadows.
Their movements are the result of etiquette training passed down for thousands of years. Every bow, every step, and every opening and closing of the paper door is strictly regulated.
They maintained not only the daily operation of the palace, but also a solemnity that transcends time and space, the mystery and weight of a "lineage that lasts for ten thousand generations".
Deep within the "Original Throne House," in a small hall called "The Room with the Paulownia Trees," a secret conversation is about to begin.
The area "Between the Wutong Trees" is not large, about ten times the size of a traditional Chinese painting. It is named after the Chinese legend that the phoenix will not perch on anything but the wutong tree, implying that everything discussed here is related to the foundation of the nation.
The interior furnishings are minimalist, yet they exude an indescribable sense of weight and solemnity.
The tatami mats are made of specially supplied Nishijin-ori textile from Kyoto, with a calm and timeless color.
The ceiling features a "branched skylight" design, with delicate geometric patterns woven from thin wooden strips. Each strip undergoes dozens of polishing processes by craftsmen.
A huge painting of pine and crane hangs on the front wall. It is about six feet in height and more than ten feet in width. In the painting, the pine tree is twisted and the white crane stands alone. The brushstrokes are strong and powerful, like iron strokes and silver hooks. The pine needles seem to be dazzling, and the crane's feathers seem to tremble slightly in the wind.
It is said to have been painted by Kano Eitoku, a master painter of the Momoyama period, in his later years. It has a history of 300 years, witnessing the rise and fall of the Tokugawa Shogunate, and now it is quietly observing the waves of the new era.
Below the "Pine and Crane Painting," a "royal pavilion" made of rosewood rises about a foot above the tatami mats, with the current emperor sitting on it.
Emperor Showa, Hirohito.
He wore a dark blue "Shiro-go-ro" (silk robe), the ceremonial robe of the highest priest of Shintoism, who is also the emperor. It was woven using the traditional Kyoto technique of "Nishijin-ori" and featured a fine "tortoise shell chrysanthemum" pattern, symbolizing the perpetuation of the imperial lineage.
He wore a chrysanthemum medallion necklace with a chrysanthemum crest on his chest, the golden chrysanthemum petals still shimmering faintly in the dim room.
The Emperor had a gaunt face, a pale complexion from being indoors for a long time, slightly prominent cheekbones, a straight nose, and lips that were habitually pursed into a straight line.
What is most unforgettable about him are his eyes. They are not big, but they are exceptionally deep, like a deep pool that can absorb all light. When he looks at people, he always has an innate, almost divine sense of detachment.
That wasn't indifference, but a barrier that had naturally formed after being passed down through generations and worshipped and gazed upon by millions, separating him from the mortal world by an invisible yet undeniable chasm.
Two steps in front of him were two low rosewood cushions, made of expensive Hakata brocade, in a color called "Sufang," which was reserved for officials of five rank or higher.
In front of each seat is a small black lacquered table, on which tea sets are prepared, including thin-walled porcelain bowls made of Arita ware, with the "sixteen-petaled eight-layered chrysanthemum pattern" used exclusively by the imperial family painted on the body. The lids of the bowls are lightly closed, and very faint white mist rises from the gaps, carrying the unique "underground fragrance" of Gyokuro tea.
The air was filled with the scent of burning incense.
Inside the bronze "fire-catching vessel," a piece of expensive fragrant wood slowly turns into blue smoke. The smoke rises straight up, gradually dissipating only when it reaches a height of more than a foot, as if even the smoke understands the rules of this place.
The paper door was silently pulled open.
First came a very slight hissing sound, the sound of fine washi paper rubbing against the door frame, as light as an autumn leaf falling to the ground.
Two men, led by attendants, bowed as they entered.
The attendant leading the way kept his head bowed very low, his gaze only reaching three feet in front of his toes. When he stepped back, it was as if water was flowing naturally from a container, without any hesitation.
The leader was the Prime Minister, Duke Chikao Fumio, who was tall and thin like a crane, with a refined face that exuded the composure of someone who had long held a high position. He had a meticulously trimmed short mustache, and the length and curvature of each hair seemed to have been measured.
He wore a traditional "montsuke haori hakama" with an outer haori in a near-pure black "ink-dyed" color and an inner lining in a slightly lighter "dull" color. The family crest "kikuo peony" was embroidered in extremely fine silver thread on the back, sleeves, and chest. It was understated, yet could be faintly revealed under certain lighting, showcasing the heritage of a thousand-year-old noble family.
As the head of the Kino family, every step he took conformed to the highest standards of public etiquette. His stride was moderate, his toes touched the ground first and then his heels, and his body leaned forward at exactly fifteen degrees, showing both respect and dignity.
Following closely behind was a man with a completely different temperament, Takasaki Motonori.
He was the emperor's childhood playmate and confidant, and also the biological father of the body Zhou Zhengqing had transmigrated into.
Compared to Kin'o's refined and reserved demeanor, Takasaki Motonori appears... more "wild."
He was also wearing a crested garment, but it looked less rigid and more casual on him. The collar of his haori was slightly open, and the hem of his hakama seemed to have been slightly modified for ease of movement. Although the modification was extremely subtle, it was still quite noticeable in the court dress code that emphasized "not a single detail could be off".
He was about the same age as the Emperor, but his facial features were more rugged, with a square jaw and prominent cheekbones, as if he had been carved out of granite with a knife and axe.
Long-term sleep deprivation and excessive thinking etched fine lines at the corners of his eyes. These were not signs of aging, but rather lines that naturally formed like those of a sword after repeated sharpening.
There always seemed to be a faint, nonchalant smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
What is most striking about him are his eyes, which are not as unfathomably calm as those of his eldest son, Takasaki Takumi, but rather sharp like those of a hawk.
The eyes were a rare light brown, almost amber in certain lighting conditions. When the pupils contracted, they were as small as pinpoints, and the occasional flash of light could send chills down one's spine.
At this moment, those eyes were scanning every corner of "between the sycamore trees" in a seemingly casual but actually meticulous manner. The shadows on the ceiling, the thickness of the paper doors, the speed at which the incense wood burned in the brazier—every detail was captured, analyzed, and archived in an instant.