Apricots turn yellow, wheat comes to the field.
As the saying goes, if you don't plant during Grain in Ear, further planting is useless. At present, except for drills, most military households in Datong are busy farming. Within the prince's mansion, as all flowers wither, it is time to send off the Flower God again. Colorful ribbons fluttered above and below the trees. Bamboo-woven and flower-made sedan chairs, horses, and canopies were everywhere—a bustling sight as far as the eye could see.
Early in the morning, the kitchen was already bustling. They set up altars, offered sacrifices, burned incense, and prayed, so offerings were indispensable. Wu, the Food Administrator, gave orders to her subordinates as usual. The cakes were all made from fresh flowers, and the wine was infused with seasonal green plums. Compared to the various ancestral temple rituals in the prince's mansion before, the ceremony to send off the Flower God was as small as could be. He Ping'an, as the Deputy Food Administrator, still had leisure time to stroll in the garden.
The weather was fine today, filled with laughter and joy all around. Leaves drifted faintly in the wind, tangled in the silk ribbons fluttering everywhere. In the blink of an eye, it was midday.
In a corner where no one paid attention, He Ping'an took off her black gauze hat. She wiped the light sweat from her head, then took out the green plum wine she had brought from the kitchen and drank half of it in one go before feeling refreshed. The laughter around her grew distant. She had wanted to close her eyes and lie down for a while longer, but when she heard someone say 'Princess,' her ears perked up instantly. The young woman with neatly combed sideburns looked up at the wall, the voices drifting from the other side. She tiptoed over, straining to discern the voices in the wind.
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