Chapter 154

 

The golden curtain fell, isolating the inner and outer worlds. The emperor slowly leaned on the sedan chair, and his eyes, which had once been as bright as lightning, suddenly dimmed and no longer had any light in them.

He slightly closed his eyelids, as if taking a nap, and let the palace eunuchs carry the sedan chair and move it along the palace road in the early morning.

The sound of swords clashing at dawn had faded away, and the bloodthirst in the palace was gradually dissipating.

The morning sky was misty white, and in the tranquil depths of deserted palace road, the crisp chirping of spring pigeons could be heard. In the cool morning breeze that passed through the palace garden, dew rolled on the lush green branches of the osmanthus trees planted beside the palace road. As the sedan chair passed under the branches, a drop of dew fell on the emperor’s forehead.

Zhao Zhongfang, who was following beside him, immediately took out a plain towel, reached over, and wiped away the water stains gently. The person in the sedan chair remained unmoved, as if he had fallen asleep in the morning breeze. After wiping, Zhao Zhongfang looked at the people carrying the sedan chair, and the two of them understood and quickened their pace.

“Where’s Ye Zhongli?”

Suddenly, the emperor’s eyelids twitched and he asked in a low voice.

After that night, at dawn, Ye Zhongli took the remains of Ding Baiya away.

“This old servant tried to keep him here but to no avail. Together with Prince Consort, we escorted him out of the palace. Your Majesty had not yet woken up, therefore this old servant did not inform you…”

Zhao Zhongfang responded carefully.

The emperor concentrated, as if listening to a distant sound coming from some direction.

After he developed cataracts in his eyes and the imperial physician’s treatment was useless, the emperor’s ears became more sensitive than before. When he had nothing to do, he often sat alone facing the small window. On windless afternoons, he could often count the number of fallen leaves from the branches in front of the window.

“Zhen want to go over there and sit for a while,” said the emperor.

The sedan chair turned and passed by the ruins of Yong’an Hall, winding all the way to the depths of the Taiye pond and stopped in front of the old apricot tree.

Morning breeze blew across the branches, and the flowers on the tree fluttered down and fell, like a late spring snow.

The emperor sat in front of the tree for a long time, then he took out an object wrapped in a silk cloth from deep inside his robe. He held it in his palm for a long time, before slowly handed it over.

“Give it to him,” the emperor said softly.

Zhao Zhongfang was taken aback, with a hint of surprise in his eyes. Hesitantly, he raised his hand, but did not take it immediately.

“Your Majesty…” His voice trembled slightly.

“Why are you crying?” The emperor turned around and his eyes accurately stopped at the old palace eunuch’s face.

“This old servant… this old servant didn’t cry.”

The emperor was silent for a moment.

“Do as Zhen say.” He said in a low voice.

“Yes, this old servant will send someone to catch up with him right away!”

The old palace eunuch quickly wiped the corners of his eyes with his sleeve, carefully took the object, turned around, and limped away quickly.

Another gust of wind passed, and the delicate flowers could not withstand the force, fluttering down from the branches.

Spring was coming to an end.

A light fallen petal, like snow, floated slowly and silently, and landed on the emperor’s sleeve.

His other hand moved slightly, and then, feeling around, he finally touched the fallen flower.

He picked it up. Whitin the fresh, juicy pistil, he seemed to smell a familiar lingering fragrance from the past.

“A Jing. A Jing.”

Facing the falling flowers on his fingertips, the emperor gently called out a name.

“Almost done, almost done. There is one last thing, wait for me to tell you…”

The emperor drooped his eyes and murmured.

…

A ray of pale morning light broke through the gloom, revealing Li Yan’s extremely stiff figure.

Sharp whistles echoed through the forest. This was the signal sent out from Li Yan’s men to call for the hidden troops. Startled by the noise, countless mountain birds, still asleep in their nests, took flight into the sky. They circled the mountaintop in alarm, filling the air with frantic, hoarse cries. His trusted followers formed a protective ring around him, escorting him as they retreated along the Qinglong River, heading out of the mountains.

Pei Xiaoyuan did not give chase. He halted atop his horse, watching as Li Yan, shielded by his men, charged toward an arched bridge ahead. Soon after, the group stopped on the bridge.

On the opposite side, a group of soldiers were already lined up under the bridge, with their bows and crossbows drawn, poised to strike.

“Don’t panic, Your Highness! We still have thousands of people! They will be here soon to support you! At worst, either the fish dies or the net splitsit means they will have a life and death struggle! We are all people who have received the Crown Prince’s favor. We will protect Your Highness, and you will definitely be able to fight your way out!”

His trusted followers swore solemn oaths in his ears, and then helped him stepped back from the bridge and waded into the stream beside them.

The waters of the Wei River flowed eastward around Chang’an, with its tributaries running into Cangshan. There, joined by the spring tide, they converged into the Qinglong River—the very river now blocking Li Yan’s path.

The current struck against Li Yan’s legs, soaking his robes. Surrounded by his men, he moved upstream into the middle of the creek. The water rose past his waist and chest. He stumbled and was swept into a whirlpool. The suddenly swift current tossed his body about like a drunken man, swaying and staggering.

Another surge of water came crashing in, engulfing his neck and face, flooding into his mouth and nose. He seemed to taste the faint, fishy tang unique to the Wei River, and in that moment, memories of his youth stirred in him. It was on a spring day like this that he had led a group of imperial guards along the grassy banks of the Wei River, drinking wine and galloping horses. The horses had raced in high spirits, the guards had drawn their bows and cracked their whips, singing loudly and without restraint.

He suddenly burst into tears and stopped walking abruptly. No matter how much people around him called out to him or pushed him, he just didn’t move.

“Go on! Go by yourselves! Don’t worry about me!” he said hoarsely.

“Your Highness!”

He turned around amidst the pleading voices of the people behind him.

The person in the water came ashore.

Along with the sound of surging water, there were the sounds of swords clashing and arrows flying behind. People died one after another, their bodies floating in the water, and blood gushed out, dyeing the river red.

He seemed oblivious and unaware, wading step by step through the water to the shore, returning all wet, walking continuously until he stopped in front of Pei Xiaoyuan.

“Is that my sister?” His eyes fell behind Pei Xiaoyuan.

There was a green-painted carriage parked there, with the curtains hanging quietly and the door of the carriage closed.

“Sister!” He raised his voice and shouted hoarsely towards the carriage.

“Leave Chang’an now and don’t come back!

“I said this for your own good.”

“I once promised Yinniang that I would not hurt you. Although you and I are enemies today, although you treat me like this, I cannot break the promise I made to her.”

His face was damp and pale, and after he said this, a trace of twisted and sorrowful smile emerged on his face.

“Sister… your brother asks only one thing of you: when I’m gone, throw my bones into the same marsh where she was buried. And there, light a stick of incense for her in my name. In this life… she’s the one I wronged the most. While alive, I couldn’t protect her, couldn’t be with her. When I died, at least I can lie beside her.”

The carriage curtain remained utterly still; no reply came from within.

At this time, Yuan Zhi hurried over and said to Pei Xiaoyuan: “Just now, our men reported that all of Li Yan’s force have been captured, but Li Meng is missing. His whereabouts are unknown. According to those people, they have not seen Li Meng either. It seems he haven’t accompanied Li Yan on this trip. Also… the item that Prince Consort is looking for—no one knows about it.”

When Liu Ceye plotted his rebellion, the Taoist priest Chen Xuhe—the one who had crafted the fire bombs—managed to flee quickly and wasn’t immediately apprehended. At the time, it was believed he had only made about a dozen of those devices, all of which were seized by Pei Xiaoyuan. But the priest remained a hidden threat, and naturally, they couldn’t let him go. Yuan Zhi continued to send men in pursuit. Early this year, they finally caught a break and captured the old priest hiding deep in the Zhongnan Mountains. In order to save his life, the old man confessed something: he had actually produced more than thirty fire bombs. The first batch—eighteen of them—had mysteriously gone missing. Fearing the consequences, he had concealed the truth and never reported the loss to Liu Ceye or the others.

Upon hearing this, and recalling the events on the night of Dache City’s breakout, the connection became clear. Thus, locating the missing fire bombs had now become a matter of utmost urgency.

Pei Xiaoyuan looked solemn and turned to Li Yan: “Where’s Li Meng? Did he steal the fire bombs? What else are you going to do?”

Li Yan raised his hand and brushed the sword scar on his face. Looking at him with a faint, ambiguous smile, he said, “Pei Er, if you want to kill me, just do it. The victor becomes king, the defeated a traitor—what more is there to say?”

Suddenly, a soft rustling sound of clothes came from the carriage. A slender, delicate hand reached out from the gap in the curtain. Then, a woman emerged from behind it, bending slightly as she stepped out.

When Yuan Zhi saw this, he subconsciously walked up and extended his hand to help.

She did not take it, but stepped down from the stool placed at the bottom of the carriage by herself.

Her face was like the moon, with brows like distant hills and eyes veiled in misty sorrow, wearing robes as white as snow. She looked much more slender than before—but how could Li Yan possibly not recognize her?

“Yinniang?!”

Li Yan blurted out the name, his eyes widening in shock.

His face showed an expression of extreme surprise and disbelief.

“You are still alive? You didn’t die on that swamp?”

The wind blew Wei Yinniang’s skirt. She slowly walked towards the stunned Li Yan.

“Yes, I am not dead. After you left that day, when I was about to die, it was Master Pei who pulled me out and saved my life.”

Li Yan stared at the woman in front of him blankly.

“You hate me, don’t you?” he murmured after a while.

“That’s why, since then, you have never sent me any news. I thought you had already…”

Suddenly, he seemed to think of something, and his whole body was as if pricked by a needle. The sadness on his face disappeared, and he stared at the woman opposite him.

“I know! It’s you! It must be you! You once saw me meeting with my great-grandmother’s people. You told them, didn’t you? You betrayed me—this was your doing, wasn’t it?!”

“Your Highness, please stop it!”

“I heard everything you said just now. What kind of virtue do I have to deserve such treatment from you? I beg you—stop this now. Tell the truth about your plot with General Li Meng. Don’t go any further down this path. You’re only hurting others—and yourself!”

Wei Yinniang burst into tears and knelt down in front of him.

Li Yan looked at her, tears slowly flowing from his eyes.

“Yinniang, from the day I was forced to leave Chang’an and there was no place for me in this vast world, I have never stopped. Either reclaim everything that originally belonged to me, or die—

“Yinniang, I know you still have me in your heart, otherwise, you wouldn’t have come here. I don’t blame you. Everything is Heaven’s will. Get up. Come over here, stay with me. When we were children in the East Palace, we made a promise—to share the same pillow in life, and the same grave in death, never to be parted. I haven’t forgotten. I know you haven’t, either.”

He reached out a hand toward her, gazing intently at the woman before him, his eyes full of deep, boundless feeling.

“Come now! Come to me. I’m right here—come keep me company. From this moment on, we’ll never be apart again.” He said softly in the gentlest tone.

Wei Yinniang raised her head. As if she had been summoned, she rose from the ground. Under his gaze, filled with longing and hope, she slowly, step by step, walked toward the man she once loved.

“Madam Wei!” Yuan Zhi shouted behind her. Wei Yinniang seemed not to hear. She took another step forward with tears in her eyes.

“Sister! Come back! He doesn’t deserve you!”

Xuyu quickly got out of the carriage, chased after her, and shouted anxiously.

Pei Xiaoyuan rushed forward and tried to stop her, but Wei Yinniang had already rushed in front of Li Yan. She had a dagger in her hand and pointed it at her own throat in front of Li Yan’s astonished eyes.

“Your Highness! Say it—tell the truth, and I’ll do as you wish. We’ll die together today and be husband and wife in the next life. But if you won’t speak, then I’ll die alone. Even if you take my dagger, it won’t matter. I’ll swear a blood oath: in every lifetime to come, I will never see you again!”

“Sister!” Xuyu cried out through tears, her voice choked with emotion as she called out again.

Li Yan looked at her steadily, his face twitching slightly. Slowly, he turned his gaze to Xuyu.

“Sister!” he called.

“Your father stole the throne from mine all those years ago. He suffered retribution and lost his sons, his heirs. Now he scrambles to make you the female emperor, disregarding of the turmoil in the world, just to pass down what he stole. That would be fine. But now, you’ve even taken Yinniang away from me.”

His eyes were bloodshot, his gaze was wild, and his expression was extremely bleak.

“She’s not Yinniang! My Yinniang, she died in that swamp that day!”

He gritted his teeth, looked at Wei Yinniang with disgust, as if she were a stranger, and forcefully pushing her away.

Wei Yinniang fell to the ground, the dagger slipping from her hand.

“Your Highness!” She fell to the ground, tears streaming down her face, clutching one of Li Yan’s boots, and begged.

He didn’t even look at her.

“Sister!”

He turned around and called Xuyu again, his eyes fixed on her face with an indescribable and extremely strange smile.

Then he raised his arm and pointed in the direction of Chang’an.

“Sister, just wait and see!

“Your father deluded himself into thinking that by restoring the former glory of Emperor Ming, he could prove his own legitimacy and merit. But I am no loser. My spirit will bear witness to what comes next. All his schemes—they will become a joke. The greatest joke under heaven!”

With a burst of maniacal laughter, he drew his sword and, with a violent motion, slashed the sharp, three-foot blade straight across his own throat.

“Your Highness—”

With Wei Yinniang’s heart-wrenching cry, Li Yan severed his own head. It tumbled from his neck and landed at his feet. Blood gushed into the air like rain, fell in a crimson storm around him. His body followed, collapsing backward, rigid and lifeless beneath the sky.

Xuyu rushed forward and, with trembling hands, tightly hugged Wei Yinniang, who was crawling in a pool of blood to grab the dagger.

Pei Xiaoyuan kicked the dagger away. Wei Yinniang then fell unconscious. He turned around and ordered people to send Wei Yinniang to the palace. Then, he picked up Xuyu, who was also covered in blood and shivering coldly, and brought her into the palace and put her on the couch. He pulled a quilt to wrap her up for warmth, and then wiped the blood off her face.

Xuyu’s face was deathly pale. Her eyes were tightly shut, her head resting against his chest, motionless. A moment later, hurried footsteps came from outside the door—Yuan Zhi had come looking, asking about Li Meng’s matter.

“I’m fine.” Xuyu opened her eyes. “Go and arrange things. The most important thing now is to capture Li Meng.”

He paused, placed her gently on the pillow, instructed the palace maid to take care of her, and then walked out.

Xuyu closed her eyes again. Wei Yinniang’s despair and sorrowful face appeared in front of her. Her eyes grew moist. She forced herself to stay composed, to push those thoughts aside for now. There was still a hidden danger before her.

As a once-formidable general in the previous emperor’s reign, Li Meng was known for his ruthlessness and cruelty—qualities few could rival. He was by no means an easy man to deal with.

“According to this servant’s speculation, he’s very likely to take action on the day of the Captive Offering Ceremony.”

“You have a point. On the day of the Captive Offering Ceremony, in addition to the officials of the whole court, there will also be many feudal lords and envoys present. We must be on guard against him using fire bombs to create chaos or even plot to assassinate His Majesty. I have dealt with this man several times. He is extremely loyal to Crown Prince Jingsheng and his son, has extraordinary skills, and is extremely cunning. This possibility is not impossible.”

“What Prince Consort fears is not without reason. There’s just over half a month left until the day of the Captive Offering Ceremony, and envoys from many vassal states have already begun arriving in Chang’an. Time is short—how to proceed specifically, we must leave it to your direction, Prince Consort…”

Outside the hall, the voices of Pei Xiaoyuan and Yuan Zhi drifted in intermittently, reaching her ears in fragments. Suddenly, a spark of light seemed to pass through her mind.

Her intuition told her that this spark was crucial and had some kind of connection with the huge danger they were facing at the moment, and she had to figure it out. However, that glimmer of insight was like a running rabbit, disappearing in an instant without a trace.

Xuyu frowned, racking her brain, trying hard to think about the fleeting idea that just flashed through her mind. Hot sweat broke out and covered her forehead.

“…Yes. Then this servant will transfer the affairs here and return to Chang’an first.”

“Alright, you go first. I will return with the Princess a little later…”

The voices outside drifted in again. Xuyu still had no clue. Restless, she turned her head—and just as her gaze swept past the draped curtain hanging before the couch, a scene suddenly flashed through her mind.

It was of a grand, majestic hall. The setting sun slanted through the half-open palace doors, casting its golden light across the space. Inside, from the high beams down to the floor, hung an enormous curtain, concealing everything behind it—dense, heavy, impenetrable.

Her heart suddenly started beating violently and she could hardly breathe. Throwing back the covers, she rolled off the bed in one motion and rushed out—only to collide headlong with Pei Xiaoyuan just as he was stepping back into the room.

“What’s wrong?”

Pei Xiaoyuan was shocked to see that her face was pale, her eyes were wide open, and she looked as if she had seen a ghost.

“Zhou He!”

She screamed in horror and grabbed Pei Xiaoyuan’s arm with her cold fingers.

“Chongtian Hall! The danger may be in Chongtian Hall!”

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