The New Year arrived amidst the bustling festivities and red decorations throughout the Capital.
Due to the snow disaster this year, to save on National Treasury expenses, the palace did not hold a banquet. Officials and ladies of ranks were rely asked to enter the palace on New Year’s Eve to pay their respects and could then leave.
To Song Ci, this news was t with great joy. After all, palace banquets were not particularly comfortable; even if you liked a dish right in front of you, wanting to eat a bit more would require self-restraint to avoid being laughed at for lacking manners.
Thus, on New Year’s Eve, Song Ci spent the night with the entire family at the Pri Minister’s Mansion, enjoying a joyful reunion dinner. Yet, listening to the lively laughter outside, she felt a profound sense of loneliness and solitude, a feeling of indescribable sorrow.
Song Ci thought of the future generations.
Song Ci had few relatives. She was an orphan from a young age, and her adoptive parents passed away in an accident when she was eighteen, leaving her truly alone, living off the compensation from her parents.
Quickly approaching eighteen, she was discovered by a talent scout and entered the entertainnt industry, where she struggled for years, still ending up as a pitiable third or fourth-tier artist. She hardly had any true friends, though she did have so superficial sisterly bonds.
The person she was closest to and could confide in was probably Cai Jie, who had been her manager since she entered the industry and had never let her go. She wondered what had beco of her, whether she had realized Song Ci hadn’t made it to the audition and guessed she was gone?
Sigh, miserable.
Nanny saw her resting her chin and sighing, and said, "If the Elder Lady is tired, perhaps she could rest for a while? Others still have to stay up."
Song Ci shook her head, pulled out a silver hairpin from her hair, and fiddled with the oil lamp wick on the table, asking, "Nanny, do you still rember your own parents?"
Nanny was taken aback and replied with a smile, "It’s been so many years, how could I rember?"
"Then, do you miss them? Especially during festivals like this?"
So, does taking such a stance an she misses her parents?
Nanny dropped her gaze and said, "When I first entered the palace, I did. But gradually, I stopped."
"Why?"
"Because after so long, you gradually forget, and then you don’t think about it anymore."
Song Ci was stunned.
So with ti, you can’t rember, and therefore you don’t think about it anymore.
If she stayed away for too long, would it be the sa, with no one rembering her, or knowing her?
Song Ci felt sowhat distressed and flustered.
It’s not the forgetting that is scary; it’s being forgotten that is the most terrifying.
Imagine if everyone forgot about you, didn’t rember you, even thought you never existed, how sad would that be?
Nanny saw Song Ci’s mood becoming increasingly depressed and asked, "Is the Elder Lady thinking of her parents?"
Song Ci ca back to her senses, forced a smile, and said obliquely, "Probably. I don’t even know who my real parents are."
In the past life and even in this current body, she did not know who her biological parents were.
So, it didn’t matter if she missed them or not.
Nanny glanced at her, montarily unsure how to console her, wondering whether to call Lin Qing over, since Lin Qing read widely and might be better at comforting?
Suddenly, Song Ci said, "Nanny, fetch scissors and paper. I want to make a Kongming Lantern."
Nanny was sowhat surprised, but thinking it was better for her to do sothing than to brood, quickly brought the materials.
An hour later, Song Ci had crafted a Kongming Lantern, personally writing on it.
Nanny glimpsed at it, feeling sowhat blurry.
Song Ci personally released the Kongming Lantern into the sky, standing under the porch, watching it slowly ascend, higher and farther away.
As years pass by, I am still here — Song Ci.
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