Chapter 94

The winding Linyang River that flows through the city carried fallen blossoms as it surged forward. A fine spring drizzle cloaked every passerby rushing about their day. The rain was so delicate it seemed impossible to feel on the skin, yet it left behind a damp mist that clung to everything.

Standing by the bridge, Xie Suian racked her brains, trying to recall every detail of the past few days concerning Xu Zhou.

She hadn’t paid much attention to anything out of the ordinary these days because they had all passed in a blur of monotony. She had even lost her sense of time. Xu Zhou, in his leisure, had taken up painting. She vaguely remembered him painting plum blossoms and wasting quite a bit of xuan paper on failed attempts.

Then something clicked in her mind—he had been painting plum blossoms. While not unusual—scholars often admired the resilient plum that bloomed in the harsh cold—she recalled he had once casually mentioned something. During their time evading the Qi people’s search in Huguishan, they had passed through a grove of plum trees. They’d only caught a fleeting glimpse before moving on, but he had said, if given the chance, he’d like to return and see them again.

It had been a passing remark, something she’d taken as idle chatter and had not thought much about. But now, the memory surfaced, and she recalled the wistfulness in his eyes when he spoke.

Coincidentally, Tongji Ward had a ferry that led directly to Huguishan… A vague suspicion began to form in Xie Suian’s mind. Could he have gone to the mountains?

Xie Suian decided at once to head for Huguishan, leaving Nan Yi behind in the city to monitor the situation. If she found Xu Zhou, she would send a signal to notify Nan Yi.

Luckily, her guess was right.

Xu Zhou had just set foot in Huguishan when Xie Suian caught up to him near the pavilion by the ferry and stopped him.

Beside the pavilion, a peach tree had blossomed, its branches arching gracefully into the structure. The faint floral fragrance filled the air, mingling with the light rain to create an even sweeter aroma.

Spring in the mountains was stunning, but the beauty was left unappreciated.

The two stood face to face, sharing a moment of silent understanding.

After all, he was her sovereign. Even though anger burned within her, Xie Suian couldn’t let it show.

“Your Highness, please return with me.”

Xu Zhou looked slightly uneasy, like a child caught doing something wrong. Yet he stubbornly held his ground and insisted, “I don’t want to go back yet.”

Xie Suian inhaled deeply, forcing down the fury rising in her chest and attempting to speak calmly. “Does Your Highness intend never to return? To live in the wilderness like a hermit?”

“Just for today.”

“And what does Your Highness plan to do today?”

“Do I not even have the freedom to decide what I want to do?”

“Do you realize how many people in the city are worrying themselves sick over Your Highness’ disappearance?!” Xie Suian’s voice rose despite her efforts to keep calm.

“Well, I haven’t been discovered, have I? Can’t you just pretend you didn’t see me and give me this one day?”

“One day? Do you have any idea how much can happen in a single day? To bring you back into the city, Pang Yu died. My elder brother died. And countless others—brave souls whose names neither you nor I will ever know—died. And now you, of all people, want to run back to Huguishan? What are you trying to do, offer yourself up to the Qi people and make sure they don’t miss you this time?”

These were people dearest to her, yet she had never mentioned them before. These losses were her deepest wounds, too painful to speak of. But now, her anger had reached its breaking point. Even for the sake of their shared cause, she couldn’t hold back.

Xu Zhou knew he was in the wrong. Hearing her scolding, his head drooped lower and lower.

At first, he’d harbored naïve fantasies—imagining himself suddenly endowed with divine power, able to crush all enemies and lead his people to victory, aweing the world and restoring the might of his dynasty. But these illusions had shattered one by one as those who protected him died, their blood soaking the earth, while he, powerless, could do nothing but watch.

He began to question why the heavens had chosen someone like him to be a ruler.

He wasn’t strong enough. He couldn’t protect his people. This was the original sin of being a king.

He felt unworthy of his position, constantly plagued by fear and self-doubt. Torn between wanting to act and being utterly powerless, he was close to breaking apart.

“Yes, it’s all my fault… I’ve let everyone down,” Xu Zhou murmured, his voice low and tinged with despair. There was even a note of giving up, as if he had resigned himself to his fate. “If the Qi people capture me, then everyone else can be free.”

Xie Suian was momentarily at a loss for words. Her emotions were a whirlwind of sorrow, fury, and helplessness—like someone rowing desperately in the middle of a vast expanse of water, only to find her companion unwilling to row with her, leaving their boat to spin aimlessly in place.

She couldn’t accept it. Her stubborn nature flared up, and she glared at Xu Zhou, her expression cold as ice. “Say that again.”

Xu Zhou avoided her gaze, staring instead at the peach blossoms behind her. “I said, even if I get caught, even if I die, you can find someone who looks like me, claim he’s Xu Zhou, and make him emperor. Isn’t it all the same in the end?”

What a reckless, shocking statement. How could he say such a thing?

Smack! The sound of a slap echoed as Xie Suian, enraged beyond measure, struck Xu Zhou across the face.

“Then why not destroy the old court altogether and build a new dynasty? It’s all the same land and people, isn’t it? Why does it matter who rules? If we’re going to give up and compromise, softening our bones now, then how will we ever stand tall again?!”

Xie Suian hadn’t held back in the slightest, and Xu Zhou was momentarily stunned by the force of her slap. His head buzzed, but her words rang loud and clear in his ears, each syllable like a thunderclap that shook his very soul.

The world around them fell silent. His cheek throbbed painfully, and blood rushed to his head. Yet the sting cleared his mind, sharpening his senses. For the first time, he noticed the crisp scent of the air, the dampness of the soil, and the tender new growth on the branches—all the small, unyielding details of this land.

He felt deeply ashamed.

As a mortal man, he had allowed himself to collapse first, knowing full well that the cage wasn’t his alone but one they all shared.

They were all chess pieces trapped on the same board. The pawns, knights, bishops, and rooks would advance, one after another, sacrificing themselves in pursuit of the ultimate victory. The king, though confined to a single square, bore the weight of life and death for the entire game.

Unless the battle claimed its final piece, he had no choice but to stand firm in his place.

The world rises and falls, dynasties will one day perish, and human life is but a few decades. No matter how hard one pursues something, it will eventually turn to dust, to ashes. But this does not mean that everything done in the present is meaningless. Posterity will emulate, will evaluate, and will live their lives against the backbone of their predecessors.

People live day by day, moment by moment.

What they are willing to lay down their lives to protect is a kind of order, a kind of spirit. Most importantly, ministers uphold their duties, and monarchs walk the path of kingship. His subjects do not see him as merely a symbol but hope for him to become a good ruler, to reclaim every inch of the lost land.

These things may seem intangible, but they are enough to rally the hearts of the common people.

He didn’t know how long he had stood there in silence. He suddenly remembered when, as a child, he had snuck to the outer hall of the morning court and peeked through the doors to see the ministers standing in orderly rows, the monarch sitting solemnly in the high hall. One day… such a scene would reappear. He was no longer the child outside the door. He had to climb step by step to the peak of the mountains, even if the path beneath his feet was paved with the bones of his ministers. He had to keep moving forward and tell the world what had happened in the darkness.

However, seeing that Xu Zhou remained silent for a long time, Xie Sui’an stood stiffly, her neck strained, her anger gradually dissipating. Her heart began to drum nervously. She really shouldn’t have struck the monarch... She started to regret—how could this possibly end well?

Just then, Xu Zhou suddenly raised his eyes. Xie Sui’an, startled, felt her knees weaken and moved to kneel to plead for forgiveness. She still had to give the monarch a way out.

“It was my fault.”

“It was my fault.”

They both spoke in unison and then stared at each other, stunned.

Xu Zhou leaned down and helped Xie Sui’an to her feet, speaking earnestly, “If you kneel to me again, I’ll truly be utterly ashamed.”

Xie Sui’an was a little surprised. She hadn’t expected Xu Zhou to take the initiative to apologize even in such an awkward situation. She was someone who softened when treated with kindness, and her face showed a hint of guilt.

She also understood that being confined to one place for three months was like being imprisoned. Anyone would go mad. For Xu Zhou to hold out until today before breaking down was already remarkable.

Once she was upright, Xie Sui’an’s tone noticeably softened. “If Your Highness wants to do something, I will accompany you. But before night falls, we must return to Wangxue Wu.”

Xu Zhou’s gaze slowly returned to Xie Sui’an, his eyes filled with a mix of emotions, as though hesitating over whether to speak. After a long pause, he finally revealed the reason for today in a low voice: “Today is the Hanshi Festival. I wanted to find a grove of plum trees to erect a cenotaph for Pang Zixu… He died on the barren plains, and no one has burned paper offerings for him. I don’t know if he can find the road to the underworld.”

Xie Sui’an opened her mouth but seemed to lose her voice. She couldn’t utter a single word.

A few days ago, Song Muchuan had secretly sent her a letter, saying that at the time, Xie Queshan had buried Pang Yu’s remains in a plum grove on Huguai Mountain. He was planning to pay his respects and would make arrangements if she wished to join him.

But Xie Sui’an pretended she hadn’t seen the letter and didn’t respond. She didn’t want to mourn Pang Yu. Such rituals forced her to admit that Pang Yu was truly gone, and she just wasn’t willing to face it.

Yet Xu Zhou’s words jolted her awake. Could it be that… the departed soul had been lingering, waiting for them?

Pang Yu, can you see this? The monarch’s heartfelt sincerity.

…

On Huguai Mountain, there was only one plum grove. Now the plum blossoms had all fallen, their petals scattered across the ground, a layer already decaying beneath, while the freshly fallen ones remained vibrant.

New tears pressed upon old tears; the sorrowful remember the sorrowful.

In that small mound of earth stood a newly erected tombstone. It bore only the words “Grave of a True Friend” but no name. Someone had recently come to pay their respects, clearing the weeds before the grave and leaving behind a jar of fresh wine.

Xu Zhou placed a painting of plum branches he had brought into the brazier and burned it.

Pang Yu was the best person in the world. He was sent on a mission to escort him, and they had only known each other since last year. Initially, Pang Yu had brought a team of a hundred men. As they fled, the Qi people decimated them—some were captured, others killed. By the end, only a handful of his subordinates remained. At a time when Xu Zhou had thought all hope was lost, Pang Yu had led him through an impossible escape.

Privately, Pang Yu had been a gentle man who understood and comforted his fears, often chatting with him.

Pang Yu had once confessed candidly that he liked plum blossoms, though it was more out of a desire to seem refined. Long ago, he had two friends whose casual poems about plum blossoms were sung throughout Bianjing City. He was slightly less talented in this regard. At night, he would light a lamp and compose a hundred or so poems about plum blossoms, selecting the best one, which still could not match theirs.

He hadn’t felt resentment over it, though. Because, in truth, he didn’t love plum blossoms as much as he loved that one woman.

He was a true gentleman, a glimmer of hope amid hardship. A gentleman loves one person and cherishes all things. A gentleman is like a plum blossom.

Neither of them spoke. The silence was so profound that the sound of the flames consuming the paper was distinctly audible. After a long time, Xu Zhou glanced sideways to find Xie Sui’an’s face silently streaked with tears.

His heart ached, and at last, the tears he had held back for so long fell.

“Xiao Liu, I somewhat dislike you,” Xu Zhou said.

Xie Sui’an returned to her senses, slightly startled.

“You insisted on stepping in to fill the void Pang Yu left… Every time I see you, I think of him.”

Xie Sui’an wiped away her tears and stubbornly replied, “Then I must stay by your side every moment, forcing you to remember him and those who died for you. They are the souls you must bear, and you cannot let them rest until you become a worthy monarch.”