WNST - 130

The journey south remained fraught with danger. Midway, Xu Zhou and Xu Kouyue switched to traveling overland, traveling lightly with only four hidden guards to avoid drawing attention. Xie Sui’an took most of the attendants and continued ostentatiously by water, pretending to escort Xu Zhou. 

Three days later, the royal siblings safely arrived in Jinling. 

The people welcomed them, officials bowed in reverence, and Xu Zhou entered the Taiji Palace. A propitious date was chosen for the coronation ceremony, during which he would pay homage at the ancestral temple, declare his ascension to heaven and earth, and establish the new dynasty. 

However, as the coronation approached, Xie Sui’an had yet to arrive in Jinling. 

Xu Zhou asked about her whereabouts eight hundred times a day, but the answers were always the same: Miss Xie Six was still en route. 

After splitting up, the ship carrying the decoy continued south as planned. While docked at Longyou Wharf to resupply, they were ambushed by a group of assassins. To prevent the pursuers from realizing that Prince Ling’an had already slipped away, Xie Sui’an led the hidden guards into the mountains, engaging the enemy in guerrilla warfare to buy time. 

Though Xie Sui’an handled the situation with ease, maintaining constant communication with Jinling, she only broke away from the pursuers and headed back after confirming Xu Zhou’s safe arrival in the city, thus delaying her return by several days. 

Xu Zhou hoped Xie Sui’an would make it in time for the coronation, and every detail of the ceremony was planned with her in mind. 

The palace guards of the Hall Front Division were supposed to accompany the emperor throughout the ceremony, providing protection. But now, the only person Xu Zhou trusted completely was Xie Sui’an—he naturally wanted her by his side. Xu Zhou thought this request would be simple, but to his surprise, it was rejected by the Ministry of Rites. Historically, there had never been a precedent for a woman serving in the Hall Front Division. Moreover, though Xie Sui’an had earned merit by aiding the prince, and though the emperor himself had appointed her as his protector, she held no official rank or title. What court robes should she wear? What weapons should she carry? Would her conduct and demeanor be appropriate? These questions had no clear answers. Without rules, there could be no order. The Ministry of Rites deemed her presence beside the new emperor during such a grand and solemn occasion inappropriate. 

Xu Zhou had always been cautious and deferential toward his ministers’ advice, fearing accusations of being unworthy of his position. But on this matter, he was resolute. 

No one could truly understand the significance of Xie Sui’an to him. He disliked her, even feared her somewhat, yet he relied on her deeply. 

She was like a blade without a hilt—grasping it brought pain, but it also helped him slay enemies and eliminate dangers, leaving him scarred in the process. Yet he needed those wounds to constantly remind him of the cost of kingship. 

He had once been a sheltered shell, until Pang Yu’s death tore open a cruel rift, revealing to him the dark web of flesh and blood woven beneath the rivers and mountains. And she was at the heart of that web—her family, her lover, her friends—all sacrificing themselves for his southern journey. Her very existence reminded him daily of how many bones lay beneath his feet. 

He had tried to escape, but she slapped him awake. 

The impenetrable layers of protection ensured his safety, but she gave him something far more important—a way to break apart and rebuild, to emerge from the haze stronger than before. 

Perhaps it was courage. 

Thus, with a touch of stubbornness, he insisted that Xie Xiao Liu appear at the coronation as a general of the Hall Front Division. It was Pang Yu’s place, and it was hers too. 

She had come to fulfill Pang Yu’s mission, and he intended to honor that. 

But most people misinterpreted his favoritism, speculating endlessly about their relationship. They assumed that prolonged intimacy between a man and a woman inevitably led to romantic entanglements—or worse, that they had already consummated their bond during the journey. 

Xu Zhou found it laughable. Could relationships between men and women only ever be about private affections? 

Yet he couldn’t stop the whispers. 

Some ministers even suggested making Xie Sui’an an imperial concubine, reasoning that this would legitimize her presence at the coronation. 

People often believed that becoming a phoenix perched on high branches was every woman’s ultimate aspiration. But Xu Zhou knew better—Xie Xiao Liu could never be confined to the inner palace. To even entertain such thoughts would be a true insult to her. 

He understood this clearly and firmly rejected the suggestion. Still, an inexplicable sense of loss lingered around him, faint but persistent. 

The emperor’s persistence eventually swayed his ministers. In the end, Princess Xu Kouyue intervened, leading the Imperial Wardrobe Bureau in crafting a custom military-style court robe for Xie Sui’an—an unprecedented move. 

Buoyed by this development, Xu Zhou became animated again. From frequently asking whether Xie Sui’an had returned, he began visiting Xu Kouyue four or five times a day to check on the progress of the robe. He even personally sketched designs for its embroidery. 

Princess Xu Kouyue felt her younger brother was acting rather childish for someone about to inherit the throne. Subtly, she reminded him that excessive enthusiasm on the emperor’s part might cast doubt on Xie Six’s virtue. 

Xu Zhou, taking the hint, immediately quieted down, obediently allowing others to guide him through the preparations for the coronation. 

After days of relentless work, Xu Kouyue watched as the embroiderers snipped the final thread. The one-of-a-kind court robe was completed on the eve of the coronation. Yet as dawn broke, its owner had yet to return.

Princess Xu Kouyue felt a pang of regret. 

In a daze, she found herself ushered to the square before the Imperial Ancestral Temple. 

Under the glaring sunlight stretched endless banners, and rows of people with heads neatly aligned filled the view—black hats adorned with long wings and colorful court robes as far as the eye could see. 

All officials advanced and knelt. 

Xu Kouyue looked up to see Xu Zhou seated atop the high platform, layers of ceremonial robes weighing heavily upon him. For a moment, it was hard to tell whether it was a dragon robe or a person sitting there. Upon closer inspection, Xu Zhou’s youthful face now bore an air of solemn authority befitting the imperial court. 

He seemed utterly focused. 

The tension in Xu Kouyue’s heart eased slightly. 

The Grand Master of Ceremonies stepped forward with a tablet, kneeling to the north and reciting the proclamation: “…The late emperor reigned for twenty-eight years, enduring the upheaval of the world. By the grace of our ancestors, we survived peril and rose again. Yet gazing at the heavens above and observing the hearts of the people below, the flame of destiny has reached its end, and the mandate now rests with the House of Xu. Today, we honor our ancestors and ascend to the throne, continuing the legacy of clarity and trust. Upholding the will of heaven and virtue, we are entrusted to shepherd the common people; as rulers inherit the ancestral line, they must carry forth the great tradition…” 

The lengthy proclamation left Xu Zhou feeling detached, his thoughts drifting back to that new robe hanging forgotten in the Imperial Wardrobe Bureau. Xie Xiao Liu should have been here to see this—the path to the temple was paved with her efforts too. 

He only remembered the day as being extraordinarily intricate and long. Contrary to his expectations, he felt neither excitement nor fear, but simply followed the ritual step by step without error. Everything felt surreal, the faces of the people blurring into indistinct shapes. 

From this day forward, he and power would become inseparable. 

Just like that, an ordinary person like him became a bold stroke in the annals of history. And behind that stroke lay countless tragedies concealed from view. 

When the ceremony ended, a suppressed message finally came before Xu Zhou. 

No one dared deliver it, so Princess Xu Kouyue stepped forward. But before she could speak, the emperor on the dragon throne quietly uttered: 

“I already know.” 

Xu Kouyue froze, suddenly understanding many things. His earlier enthusiasm over the robe had perhaps been an attempt to mask the foreboding of loss. His near-obsessive preparations for her arrival were as if trying to ensure her return. And his sudden silence as the coronation approached, his unprecedented decision to stop asking where she was—it was all about forcing himself to accept her death as a ruler should. 

For a long time, Xu Zhou showed no expression. 

They had parted ways only days ago, and the shimmering reflections of water seen through the ship’s railings still lingered vividly in his mind. 

Xie Xiao Liu had cursed the accursed spy in Jinling who had caused Lord Shen Zhizhong’s death and forced them to remain cautious during the final stretch of their journey. But fearing Xu Zhou might grow too anxious, she reassured him: “Jinling is no longer under Qi control. They only have remnants of their forces left—they can’t stir up much trouble.” 

Xu Zhou had believed the same. 

The Qi forces in the south were no longer a significant threat. 

It was merely a precaution that they split into two groups. 

Xie Xiao Liu had donned his clothes, the overly long sleeves and hem fluttering comically. She couldn’t help giggling as she swung her arms. To complete the disguise, she wore a tall bamboo hat and stuffed cotton into the clothes to mimic a man’s figure. But up close, the ruse was easily exposed, so she abandoned the act and chose a guard similar in build to Xu Zhou instead. 

For some reason, Xu Zhou had always thought of Xie Xiao Liu as towering and imposing. It wasn’t until that moment that he realized she was merely of average height for a woman. 

How much effort must it have taken for her to achieve martial prowess equal to that of a man? 

This fleeting thought crossed his mind. 

At the time, it seemed unremarkable. 

---

Not long after parting from Xu Zhou, Xie Sui’an’s group was ambushed at the dock. Fortunately, they had prepared in advance, so the initial response wasn’t too chaotic. 

Xie Sui’an lured the enemy into the forest to buy time. If they discovered that Prince Ling’an wasn’t among them, they would immediately turn to block the land route. 

But she belatedly realized that the enemy had set an ambush within the woods. 

She had underestimated their determination. This was their last chance—the Qi forces had mobilized all their remaining assassins in Jiangnan for this final strike. Each one was a top-tier fighter, every move lethal. 

Still, Xie Sui’an felt a flicker of relief. They had prepared well, and thankfully, Xu Zhou wasn’t traveling with her. 

Looking at the faint glimmers of silver blades flashing in the shadows, she felt a strange sense of exhilaration. Among these enemies, might there be those who had once crossed swords with Pang Yu? Finally, she could fight without restraint. 

Every enemy she killed, every moment she fought, bought Xu Zhou more safety and avenged Pang Yu further. 

A fair trade. 

Xie Sui’an fled through the mountains for two days, battling the enemy until her last breath. Her body was like a torn piece of cloth, blood flowing freely from countless wounds. She shouldn’t have been able to stand, let alone run—but still, she ran far, far away. 

In the end, her vision was tinged red. 

Whether it was blood clouding her eyes or the world itself bleeding crimson, she couldn’t tell. 

She and Xu Zhou’s decoy were cornered at the edge of a cliff. Only when they stopped did her body register the pain coursing through it. 

She no longer had the strength to hold her sword. How tired she was. She wanted to give up, to throw in the towel, hoping someone would come to comfort her as they once did, willingly conceding defeat to her. 

An arrow tore off the man’s veil, revealing that the person they had pursued all along was not Prince Ling’an. 

The wind swept majestically through the forest, lifting the girl’s hair. Xie Sui’an tilted her head back and laughed freely. 

“It’s too late for you.” 

Enraged, the enemy ordered a volley of arrows. 

The arrows fell like exploding fireworks upon her. In the final second of consciousness, she recalled the summer of Yongkang Year 20. Disguised as a young man, she roamed Dongjing City, following Xie Chaoyun, eating and drinking recklessly, stealing chickens and causing mischief, living like a mischievous little tyrant. 

Back then, Pang Yu had still been troubled over whether he was a “broken sleeve.” Together, they strolled beneath the fireworks of the Qixi Festival, unaware of where the sparks came from that landed on her robe, burning half her clothes.