BXG - 119

◎Epilogue◎

Song Shixuan did not stay long. The affairs of the court were pressing, and it was already a feat for him to leave the capital for two days during the festival.

Su Chaoci was even busier; even on the night he stayed, he had piles of documents brought over, solemnly discussing matters with Zhou Tan late into the evening.

Ai Di Sheng went up the mountain to inquire about the wine trade in Lin’an at a tavern familiar to Qu You. Seizing the opportunity, she invited Song Shixuan alone to the Tianying Pavilion.

The guards followed from a distance, knowing the emperor had something private to discuss and refraining from approaching.

Qu You was unhurried, warming a pot of wine for him. Song Shixuan accepted it with both hands and took a sip, his lips curling slightly. “Madam used to forbid me from drinking.”

“You’ve grown up,” Qu You rested her chin on her hand, speaking gently. “I no longer see you as a child.”

Song Shixuan drained his cup. “Rong’er recently adopted a white cat—it looks quite similar to the one we had before.”

“Rong’er” was the empress’s maiden name. When Song Shixuan and Zhou Tan had pretended to be close to Luo Jiangting, the empress had been fully aware of their plans.

Now that he spoke of her so fondly, it seemed their relationship was strong.

Historically, Emperor Ming was remembered as a wise ruler, with no rumors of debauchery or favoritism.

Qu You smiled. “That’s good.”

Song Shixuan asked, “Is there something Madam wishes to say to me?”

She didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Ziqian, since entering this courtyard, I haven’t addressed you as ‘Your Majesty.’ What I’m about to say now is simply what I, as your teacher’s wife, wish to convey.”

Seeing her seriousness, Song Shixuan’s expression grew more solemn. “Please, speak freely, Madam.”

“There’s something I’d like to entrust to you.” Qu You retrieved a thick stack of manuscripts from a bamboo basket beside her and handed it to him. “Take a look at this.”

Song Shixuan flipped through it briefly, his expression faltering. “This is…”

Qu You didn’t answer but instead asked, “Ziqian, I heard that when your teacher was imprisoned, you secretly summoned several historians. What did you discuss?”

Song Shixuan pursed his lips and replied softly, “I… intended to ask them to restore Teacher’s reputation. But historically, imperial authority doesn’t interfere with historiography. Moreover… our situation might not involve writers from this dynasty. I couldn’t reveal Teacher’s plans without evidence. They knelt in protest, refusing outright.”

Qu You nodded. “Yes, public opinion was too strong…”

Song Shixuan continued, “In the end, they only agreed to obscure Teacher’s records as much as possible. If those rumors entered the official histories—even if false—they would grow darker with each retelling by future generations.”

Qu You looked at him in surprise.

No wonder… No wonder Zhou Tan was listed first in the Yin History: Biography of Flatterers , yet his historical record was so sparse.

She had once wondered why, despite Zhou Tan’s involvement in pivotal events like the Hua Reforms and the Jing Party Struggles, references were so scarce.

Emperor Ming had done everything possible to protect his reputation, but…

“This matter… need not be handled this way,” Qu You shook her head and sighed. “Ziqian, do you know the cruelest thing that can happen to a person?”

Song Shixuan opened his mouth to respond, but Qu You cut him off. “It’s not being slandered—it’s being forgotten.”

Song Shixuan paused, following her words. “Madam means…”

“‘His Majesty’ need not intervene, nor does Zhou Tan require biased chroniclers,” Qu You refilled his cup earnestly. “In the Xiugwen Pavilion, my father served—he was incorruptible and wouldn’t allow malicious defamation. All they need to do is record his life impartially and thoroughly. As for unproven matters, let posterity speculate.”

“But…”

“As long as he isn’t forgotten, one day…”

Qu You sipped her wine, leaving the rest unsaid.

Because… she was taking a gamble.

She wasn’t certain of the consequences, but after countless reflections, she believed that being forgotten in the margins of history, reduced to just the label “flatterer,” would be the cruelest fate for Zhou Tan.

A verdict sealed forever, with no chance of redemption.

What she wanted to do was leave as many “mysteries” about him in the historical record as possible.

No one understood the mindset of future historians better than she did. With mysteries to unravel, they would tirelessly seek the truth buried in the vast sea of books.

The truth was here.

Silence, born of omission, was the cruelest malice.

After much thought, Song Shixuan gave a soft “Mm” in agreement and returned to the stack of manuscripts.

On the first page, written in her elegant script, were four words:

—Bai Xue Chang Ge (Eternal Song of White Snow).

“Madam, this is…”

“Have you ever heard a saying?” Qu You gazed absently at her wine cup, recalling the snowy night in the prison when Zhou Tan had asked if she had read his poetry. She smiled faintly.

“What saying?”

“Poetry… is truer than history.”

Song Shixuan didn’t understand.

What she had written was merely a story.

A tale based on Zhou Tan.

The protagonist had no real name, only referred to as “Mr. Bai Xue” (White Snow). In this tale, she laid bare all truths without restraint.

The sound of the zither in Fanlou, the bloodshed on Jinghua Mountain, the tears in the secret chamber, the eternal flame atop the candlelit tower… and the sun of the borderlands, the moon over the desert, the smoke rising from the city walls—all mingled with emotions that transcended lifetimes.

They swayed with the wishes tied to ancient trees, drifting like twilight mist in the wind.

That red ribbon fluttered on the apricot tree before them.

All wishes would come true—this was the gods’ favor to them.

“Now that the court is at peace, there’s no need to stir trouble. What I entrust to you, Ziqian, is to ensure this tale is passed down.”

Qu You spoke softly, “I remain hidden in the mountains of Lin’an, unable to step into the world. But you are different—you are in the court, and your influence will span generations. When we are no longer young, or even no longer alive… I hope this story will endure, reaching centuries into the future. Even if people endlessly debate its truth, those figures… will live on in memory.”

The pavilion fell silent, save for the rustling of pages being turned.

“As long as they argue, the people within will never truly die.”

“Very well,” Song Shixuan promised solemnly. “Madam, rest assured. Before my hundredth year, I will spare no effort—organizing plays, seeking storytellers, printing and disseminating.”

“Throughout the Yin Empire, all shall sing of Bai Xue.”

Qu You gazed deeply at him. “Do you realize that if this book becomes popular, you won’t remain an untainted paragon of virtue? You’ll be dragged into the mortal realm, mired in speculation, even slander. Are you… truly prepared for this?”

Song Shixuan refilled his cup and laughed heartily. “I rose from the dust; why fear returning to the tongues of men? Untainted… no one but gods remain untainted. To sit high on the golden throne, immortalized as a wax figure in history and rumor—what meaning is there in that?”

He raised his cup to clink against hers, tears glimmering in his eyes. “Madam, it is I who should thank you.”

The common folk around them were unaware of their identities. Not wishing to draw attention, Song Shixuan and his entourage departed quietly as the sun dipped below the horizon.

Zhou Tan and Qu You stood on Apricot Hill, watching them disappear into the gathering dusk until they vanished entirely.

By the time they returned to the Tianying Pavilion, the moon hung high in the sky.

The red ribbon tied to the apricot tree had been washed anew, now fluttering gracefully in the wind, lively and unrestrained amidst the bare branches.

Qu You set up a fire pit in the pavilion and brewed tea with Zhou Tan.

She inhaled the fragrant steam, squinting mischievously. “What did you and Brother Su talk about?”

Zhou Tan glanced at her, smiling serenely. “Guess.”

“If you won’t tell, fine,” Qu You pouted. “It must have been about state affairs. Some people, even in seclusion, can’t stop worrying about the world. How could I guess?”

“State affairs?” Zhou Tan seemed amused, brushing the fur-lined collar of his cloak across her head. “Ziqian was right there. If we’d discussed state affairs, why avoid him?”

Qu You leaned closer, coaxing. “Then what were you talking about?”

Zhou Tan wrapped her snugly in his cloak, clearing his throat leisurely. “Let me think… Ah, no more teasing. He only told me that your parents are well, your siblings safe. They miss you and plan to visit soon. And Xiang Wen—Xiang Wen has made great strides, earning a good reputation in the court.”

“That boy is clever indeed,” Qu You smiled.

Perhaps in a few years, if destitute, she could write to him for help.

Zhou Tan continued, “Lady Gao misses you dearly, as do Zhi Ling and the others. Xiao Yan and A Yang win battles daily—everyone is doing well. Changling… has been rebuilt.”

Qu You fell silent for a moment, the tea bubbling fervently before her.

She sniffed, then smiled again. “If everyone is well, that’s all that matters… By the way, you’re much improved. What do you plan to do next?”

Zhou Tan pondered carefully. “Perhaps open a school? Just teach the children around Apricot Hill… When they grow up and we tire of it, we’ll pack up and vanish, leaving Ziqian and Chaoci unable to find us. Doesn’t that sound amusing?”

Qu You was astonished, pinching his cheek. “Not bad—I like this idea. You’ve become mischievous.”

Zhou Tan held her hand, gazing outward with her.

In the hazy night, the mournful wail of the cold wind reached them, blowing past the imperial palace, over green hills and mighty rivers, rushing to their side.

Qu You pointed to the sky, her sleeves flapping in the icy breeze. “The rivers and mountains flow eternally…”

She turned back, her eyes gleaming. “You must carve your mark upon them.”

Zhou Tan squeezed her hand tighter. She felt something cold press against her palm and looked up to see it was the white jade thumb ring.

“This was left to me by my teacher,” Zhou Tan slipped the ring onto her finger. “It must go to the one most cherished.”

“When the Way fails, drift upon the vast seas… Now, we are adrift together in the boundless ocean.”

Qu You clenched her fist tightly, suddenly recalling a line of poetry he had written.

Zhou Tan frowned slightly. “Which line?”

Qu You teased, reciting, “A life of scorn sees only daylight…”

He remembered—it was the line he had inscribed on a blank screen during an assassination attempt in the Ministry of Justice.

At that time, he had clung to life, utterly despondent, never imagining he would meet a kindred spirit who sang the same song of white snow.

He immediately completed the verse: “Return early to till the southern fields.”

Qu You was satisfied. “Perfect. Come spring, we’ll till the soil. What shall we plant?”

“Whatever you decide.”

The night wind grew colder, and they couldn’t linger long. After brewing the tea, they returned to the house. Qu You carried a lantern, skipping playfully ahead of him.

He trailed behind, softly asking, “History is vast as the sea—have you seen the truth?”

“Yes.” Qu You paused, turning back with a radiant smile. “And you? Have you seen me?”

“Of course.”

He opened his eyes in the crevices of history, meeting a “great sage,” understanding their intent, and finding kinship.

Thus, morning and night, they faced each other, gaining a soulmate.

Overjoyed beyond measure.