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“Mother,” he seemed to have waited for her for a long time. When he turned to look at her, his expression carried an air of calm certainty. “...You’ve returned.”
The word “returned” was both sarcastic and an arrogant declaration of victory, as if telling her that he was the one in control and that she could never escape the grasp of his hand.
Yet, she still didn’t care. It was as if his words were no different from the passing grass, wood, or stones to her. Her heart always held only one person, and even now, she kept looking around, searching, and even asked him: “...Where is Third Brother?”
“Third Brother...”
It was a title he had never heard before. Not once during their long years of dependency within the deep palace had she ever called that man anything but “Lord Fang.” How could it be such an intimate term as “Third Brother”?
It felt like a sudden stab through his heart. The pain even dulled the pleasure of having lured her back into his grasp. For the first time, he found her terrifying. Beneath those once affectionate smiles, she had hidden such a cold heart.
“Song Shuyan...”
He too changed how he addressed her, calling her by the name he had secretly fantasized about countless times.
“...Do you not have a heart?”
His voice trembled with anguish.
“Even now, you insist on seeking him... Do you feel no guilt towards me?”
“You know what I hate most, that I would give you the best of everything in the world... But you? What have you done?”
“You had so many choices...”
“Why... did you choose to betray me?”
His breathing grew erratic. His simple questions came out fragmented and jumbled. Yet, his pain meant nothing to her. She wouldn’t even look at him properly, continuing to ask: “...Is it true that he has been killed by you all?”
...How cruel.
He could go mad for her, die for her, disregard morality for her, and carve away all the bad parts of himself to leave behind only a seemingly innocent face. But she didn’t care, didn’t pity him, and wouldn’t even bother asking why he so desperately desired her.
“Fine, fine...”
He laughed, both self-deprecating and self-righteous. The anger he had suppressed for a month finally erupted from deep within, and for a moment, he feared he might strangle the woman before him right there.
“...You ask if he’s dead?”
“He’s certainly dead!”
“The whole world knows he’s dead! A traitor who rebelled against the nation—slain by his own brother on the battlefield!”
“He deserved his fate—”
“He died a death too lenient for his crimes—”
What he said was true.
But... not entirely.
Rumors spread that Fourth Young Master Fang had executed his brother to prove his loyalty after uncovering his plot. However, according to Prince Wei Bi’s report, when they broke through the city walls, Fang Xianting was already dead—a single strike through the heart with a sword, right in the old Fang family residence. At that time, Fang Zixing sat beside his brother’s corpse, tears streaming down his face, making it hard to believe he was the one who struck the blow.
“That Fang Zixing has always led troops outside the capital—he was thought to be just a brave but unthinking warrior,” Grand Tutor Chen Meng had stroked his beard and remarked upon hearing the news. “Who would have thought he’d show some cleverness, at least knowing how to go with the flow and not waste his brother’s painstaking efforts.”
Yes—”going with the flow.”
Fang Xianting’s death truly put the court in a difficult position. They originally planned to pin a charge of treason on the Fang family after capturing Chang’an. With several times more troops surrounding them and cutting off their supply lines, even if they couldn’t defeat the seemingly invincible Marquis of Yingchuan on the battlefield, they could starve his twenty thousand troops to death. Once the Fang family was leaderless, the emperor could issue an edict to cut off their wings—exterminating four generations of the paternal side, three of the maternal side, and two of the wife’s side. It would be clean and justified.
But he had died, and to outsiders, it appeared he was killed by his own kinsman. This made the Fang family appear as righteous heroes who rooted out treachery and restored order. Now, any attempt to exterminate their entire clan would lack justification.
“Damn it—”
When Emperor Wei Xi heard the news, he was furious.
“Am I powerless against him?”
“A mere traitor, unworthy of life! Even now, how can he obstruct anyone?”
“I will exterminate the nine kin of the Fang family! I will make them all apologize to the late emperor!”
These were the impulsive words of a young man venting his frustration. Old ministers like Chen Meng and Wei Bi listened indifferently, their thoughts still focused on the dynasty’s future. Fang Xianting’s final act had cut off their backup plans. Now, the Fang family couldn’t be killed, Fang Yunhui had escaped south with troops while Wei Bi wasn’t paying attention, and even the eighty thousand Divine Strategy Army handed over to Jiang Chao had slipped out of the court’s control. Everything seemed to have returned to the original deadlock, even worse than before…
Fang Xianting…
If only it weren’t for him—
Hatred and anger churned violently in his heart. Suddenly, a soft laugh from a woman rang in Wei Xi’s ears. He snapped out of his thoughts and saw her. The plum blossoms in the garden fell like snow, her laughter resembling a broken tomb—so desolate and shattered... yet breathtakingly beautiful.
“‘Traitor’…”
She murmured the words, finding them increasingly amusing. Sadness and mockery flickered in her eyes—the former reserved for the person she couldn’t let go of, the latter for him.
“To punish rebels, uphold the court, stabilize borders, and win the hearts of the people... Since Taiqing, year after year of war—yet in Your Majesty’s eyes, this is deserving of death, with no punishment too harsh?”
“So who doesn’t count as a rebel?”
“Are they the amusing eunuchs who flatter the king?”
“Or the grand tutor who has never left the imperial city and contributed nothing to the world?”
Her voice wasn’t loud, but the sharpness of her words gradually intensified. He couldn’t bear her counter-questions, much less her reproach and resentment toward another man.
“To punish rebels and uphold the court—he punishes which rebels? Upholds what order?”
He shouted back at her!
“Killing Shi Hong and Du Zexun without even seeking my permission! Beating the son of the Prince of Yinping in the great hall—such arrogance aimed only at suppressing the Five Regents and seizing power! His ‘punishment’ is eliminating rivals! His ‘upholding’ is factionalism!”
“To stabilize borders and win the hearts of the people... Don’t you find these words laughable yourself?”
“Since Taiqing, we’ve been retreating step by step. After losing Chang’an, we lost Luoyang. Zhou has been forced to retreat to the south, holding onto a corner of the land. In Yangzhou, he put on a show, promising the people to reclaim the north and restore the capital—but what was the result?”
“He failed to reclaim the Central Plains! He failed to win the hearts of the people! Now, everywhere you hear people cursing and despising him. He clearly lost—he lost!”
At the word “lost,” he seemed to grow even more agitated. His twisted face flushed redder, his eyes glowing with a terrifying red light. At that moment, he deeply believed he was the ultimate winner, able to mock others from above.
“Yes—he lost!”
“He lost to Father Emperor, and he lost to me!”
“The Fang family of Yingchuan thought themselves omnipotent, but in the end, they were nothing but our dogs! If they dared to turn on their master, we would rip out their fangs and claws, tearing them apart! All their power was bestowed by me! Without it, they are nothing!”
At this point, he laughed wildly again, swelling with pride. The weak monarch had never had any achievements worth boasting about in his life. Only in killing his most loyal minister did he feel such authority and arrogance.
“Haha... Hahahaha...”
Song Shuyan laughed until she bent over, her heartbeat growing faster and stronger. She clearly felt that sharp, unruly, defiant part of herself, buried deep within, struggling uncontrollably to break free.
“Do you think you’ve won?”
Looking up at the child she had personally raised, the last traces of warmth disappeared completely. All that remained in her eyes was endless disappointment, hatred, and... deep disdain.
“Zhou has long been doomed. It was he who struggled to keep you alive until now... You’ve broken the last sword willing to protect you, yet you think this rotting nation can continue to survive?”
Her sneer was so sharp, like a merciless steel nail driven deep into his flesh.
“You say he lost?”
Her counter-question was pressing, her voice growing louder.
“Yes, he did lose!—He lost to the late emperor’s baseness and your shamelessness!”
“He lived his life protecting you! Never seeing you as his enemy!”
“But you?”
“Relying on his protection yet fearing his strength! Hoping he’d fight valiantly to secure victory, yet scheming behind his back, two-faced and treacherous!”
“Do you think he didn’t see through your so-called plots and those of your foolish ministers?”
“He knew you wanted to kill him before leaving Jinling! You conspired with the Tujue to kill Zhou’s loyal minister! Because you couldn’t admit that reclaiming the capital was hopeless, you used his death to shift the world’s anger over appeasing the barbarians!”
...Yes.
She understood it all.
Stripping away the self-deceiving facade, she realized she had long grasped his true intentions. On the shores of Yangzhou, when he brushed the falling snow from her temple in front of thousands, he knew it was farewell and fulfilled her wish to stand openly before the world. His last words to her were, “Yingying, I’m leaving.” Did she not know that was his goodbye?
She knew, she knew everything... Ever since taking office, she had seen the truth of the world clearly—From “advocating war” to “seeking peace,” the tide of change required a sacrifice. As the leader of the pro-war faction, his name had to be tarnished to crush the people’s faith in those advocating war. Only then could the emperor negotiate peace.
He sacrificed himself not out of fear of the court’s encirclement... but because he knew the nation’s strength was waning and the shift towards peace was irreversible. Rather than giving the emperor an excuse to exterminate the Fang family, he chose to die alone to preserve everything. The nation could no longer afford further conflict; otherwise, even if peace negotiations succeeded, chaos would remain unstoppable.
In such circumstances, whether the ruler of Zhou was wise or mediocre no longer mattered... What mattered was stopping the war. Even a few years of peace and new policies could stabilize the nation. Continuing internal strife would not only destroy Zhou but also lead the Han people to mutual slaughter and disintegration... becoming prey under the barbarians’ knives.
“Nonsense—”
Upon hearing her words, Wei Xi grew even angrier. The shame of his appeasement plans being exposed and his jealousy as a man tore at his heart, nearly driving him out of control.
“He lived for us?”
“If he harbored no disloyal intentions, how dare he touch you!—Song Shuyan! Do you dare deny it!”
“How dare you say you had no affair with him!”
What a cruel question—both for her and for himself. Nearly all the plum blossoms in the garden had fallen, yet Wei Xi’s mind flashed back to that snowy night. From the corner of the city wall, he had looked down and seen her so intimately leaning into another man’s arms, even closing her eyes to seek a kiss from him...
He was almost possessed, his gaze fixated on her lips, unable to move. That night, she hadn’t been like this—not as thin, not as pale and sickly as now. He wanted her to forever remain a beautiful, serene woman, to love him as wholly as she had loved that man, to...
His crazed stare grew hotter. Song Shuyan finally noticed the abnormality. She couldn’t believe it, and the next moment, the tall youth forcefully grabbed her shoulders—he had completely lost his mind. His fingers dug deeply into her flesh like iron clamps. She struggled desperately but couldn’t escape. His resistance only fueled his excitement, and finally, he abruptly lowered his head to kiss her—
She instinctively turned her head quickly, and his lips landed on her cheek. Even so, she felt as if she had fallen into an icy abyss, trembling with revulsion, her whole body feeling as if it were being gnawed by insects. Summoning unknown strength, she finally pushed him away, then without hesitation slapped him hard across the face. The sharp “slap” echoed through the plum grove, and for a moment, the entire world seemed to fall silent.
“Wei Xi...”
Her hand trembled violently, whether from fear or extreme disgust.
“You...”
Her merciless slap left him stunned, and her unmistakable revulsion plunged him into despair, humiliation, and rage. Amidst the whirlwind of emotions, what ultimately consumed him was an overwhelming fury. He stepped forward once more, seizing her wrist tightly, his eyes fixed on her like a predator’s. Then, with even greater vehemence, he shouted, “Why could he do it!”
“Why did you let him hold you, kiss you! Even willingly bear his child!”
“You belong to me!”
“You will always, forever, belong to me!”
His frenzied cries were sickening, and the almost greedy way he stared at her made Song Shuyan’s skin crawl. In that moment, she suddenly understood why his reaction had been so strange when she’d attempted to withdraw the curtain years ago. So... this was how he felt about her…
“So it was like this…”
She laughed bitterly, feeling both grandiose and absurd.
“You hate him so much…”
“Yet it’s all because… of this…”
Her dismissiveness left him powerless. That word—”just”—made his anger seem misplaced and inappropriate. Little did he know that what he saw as an earth-shattering matter was, in her eyes, worth no more than a careless “just.”
“Yes… exactly like this…”
He decided not to play games with her anymore. Stripping away all pretenses, he abandoned any semblance of dignity, revealing his vicious nature.
“I hate him… I hate how he took you from me…”
“I hate how he shamed me… and my father…”
“I will kill him—I’ll burn his bones to ash, feed his flesh to dogs, and flay his skin—”
At this point, he gave her a sinister smile, his eyes alight with excitement and malice, momentarily shocking her.
“Don’t you want to see him?”
“Aren’t you willing to die just to see him one last time?”
“Fine, I’ll grant your wish…”
“He’s right there—”
He pointed into the distance, toward the end of the plum grove, where—
…Wangshan Pavilion stood.
She turned her head stiffly, only to see soldiers already dousing the base of the pavilion with oil. The flickering torches seemed small, like insects fluttering in the wind, yet to her, they burned fiercely and blindingly.
“No… no…”
Her head shook mechanically, her tongue too stiff to form complete words. Beside her, the emperor laughed maniacally, raising his hand slightly. At his signal, the soldiers threw their torches, and cruel flames immediately began climbing upward, licking and consuming the delicate structure that had once sheltered her and him—a fleeting illusion of spring now devoured by the raging fire.
“Hahahaha…”
Wei Xi’s laughter was sharp and twisted, his face illuminated by the hellish glow of the flames, ghastly and terrifying like a specter.
“You want to see him? Dream on!”
“I won’t grant him the dignity of burial! Nor will I allow him even a shred of reverence after death!”
“That’s where you two secretly met and schemed, isn’t it?”
“I’ll burn it down—burn it to ashes—”
“You’ll never find a trace of him left in this world to mourn or remember—”
“I’ll destroy everything—”
“Everything—”
…That distant spring mountain.
“The high tower should not be leaned on; travelers are far beyond the spring mountains...” He had written those lines once, but the part she loved most—”At the edge of the flat plains lies the spring mountain”—had been deliberately omitted. Only now, after so many years, did she realize he was right.
Her spring mountain was burning, the ferocious flames threatening to scorch a gaping hole in the gloomy sky. Though the winds of the season should have grown warm, they instead felt chilling and desolate. She couldn’t think of anything, only knowing someone had said he was there. She should save him, bring him out, take him with her—to go home…
Home…?
What was that place?
Had she ever truly had one?
It didn’t seem important anymore… All she wanted was… just…
She ran toward the ancient pavilion now engulfed in flames, watching as the lower joints of the structure were gradually consumed, the intricate carved windows shattered, and the door that had once welcomed her dreams now swaying precariously—
But—
“Where is Her Majesty rushing off to in such haste?”
An aged, steady voice suddenly rang out from behind the flowering trees. In the next moment, countless soldiers wielding swords and spears surrounded them from all directions. Grand Tutor Chen Meng and Prince Wei Bi of Yinping emerged slowly from behind the shadows of men, hands clasped behind their backs, their expressions exuding arrogance and disdain.
They…
Song Shuyan looked at them numbly, but the fire within her burned as fiercely as the collapsing Wangshan Pavilion. Once the empress dowager who ruled behind the curtain, she now stood weaponless, yet her piercing gaze still unsettled the imperial guards who had once served under her command, making them hesitate to act rashly.
“This lowly minister understands Your Majesty’s concern for Lord Fang’s safety, but there is another pressing matter we must discuss with Your Majesty. We dare to obstruct your path today, and we humbly ask for your forgiveness.”
Chen Meng spoke smoothly, addressing her in the way she despised most, his feigned humility nauseating. For the first time, she realized how repulsive this seemingly calm and mild-mannered minister truly was.
She didn’t respond, and he didn’t seem to care. With a wave of his hand, an unfamiliar official stepped forward, holding paper and brush, his gaze sharp and scrutinizing.
“This matter is of great importance and affects many. It must be clearly recorded in writing,” Chen Meng continued, speaking condescendingly. “This is Deng Xin, the Chief Historian of the Imperial Records Office. Today, he will document every word exchanged between us. Does that suit Your Majesty?”
A historian?
…Hmph.
How laughable they were… Did they really think she still cared about her reputation or how history would judge her?
Chen Meng noticed the mockery in her eyes. Like a dying bird whose song turns sorrowful, he didn’t want to waste time arguing with a woman at this final juncture. Cutting straight to the chase, he asked, “Though Lord Fang has been condemned and executed, his followers remain at large. The Qianji Office commands eighty thousand elite soldiers of the Divine Strategy Army, currently under the control of General Jiang Chao and not yet returned to the court. We’ve heard he is guarding Your Majesty in Yingchuan. Is this true or false?”
The Divine Strategy Army…
So this was why they had gone to such lengths, even using his corpse to lure her back after his death—to seize control of those eighty thousand troops.
She laughed, her heart breaking, tears of blood streaming from the corners of her eyes. The historian’s pen moved swiftly, and thousands of eyes watched her every move. Her words would become evidence for posterity, each syllable potentially damning her in the annals of history.
But… did she care anymore?
“Do you never feel shame?”
In that moment, she was purely curious.
“Using every means at your disposal, exhausting yourselves… just to kill a man who never once treated you as enemies.”
“He was protecting you… protecting you! Protecting everyone here who still stands alive today!”
She pointed at them—not just Chen Meng and Wei Bi, but also the soldiers brandishing weapons against her. Her trembling fingertip was like a sharp instrument, striking fear into the hearts of those towering men.
“Why did he protect you…”
“You, who are so filthy, so despicable, so vile, so insatiable…”
“…Do you even deserve it?”
The historian’s pen flew across the page, recording every word. Yet, strangely, her courage grew stronger. Everything she had dared not say aloud in her life could now be spoken freely—
“Yes… the rumors are true.”
“I was with him.”
She spoke the words, and immediately, gasps of shock and murmurs erupted around her. Chen Meng and Wei Bi’s expressions shifted subtly, while Wei Xi’s face turned ashen. But she only felt liberated, as if the shackles binding her had finally shattered, her heart light and weightless, like snowflakes falling from the branches of plum blossoms.
“I was with him—”
Her voice grew louder!
“I love him! I’ve always loved him!”
“I ruled behind the curtain for years, but I never belonged here—if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have entered the palace as empress during the third year of Taiqing—”
“But you don’t deserve it!”
“You don’t deserve the ten wasted years of my life—or his utter devotion and selflessness—”
Unrestrained and fearless, her frail body seemed to possess endless strength!
“This rotting dynasty on its last legs—is it really worth all your scheming and infighting?”
“Do you think you can survive long without him?”
“Even if you grovel for peace and cling to survival in a corner, you will inevitably collapse and disintegrate!”
“He would never be the one to personally destroy the empire… but you—you will pay the price for your foolish arrogance.”
…Was it a curse?
No… it wasn’t.
Everyone present knew deep down that talk of revival was nothing more than an illusion, a bait to keep hope alive. Now, with the Fang family of Yingchuan gone, no one knew how they would survive. Amidst the storm, perhaps…
“He was pure…”
And with that, the miraculous strength that had sustained the woman seemed to finally wane. Her voice softened, and her blood-streaked tears quietly fell into the soil, vanishing without a trace.
“Even if all of you twist the truth and slander him with fabricated crimes…”
“He… remains pure.”
…Everyone would remember that scene.
In the distance, the ancient pavilion was consumed by towering flames, and the plum blossoms in the garden withered completely in a single day. The sight of ruin was both broken and magnificent, mourning the departure of someone unknown.
Chen Meng’s face remained as expressionless as water, finally unwilling to listen further. Beside him, Wei Bi averted his gaze slightly, perhaps occasionally wondering why he had fought so bitterly against a colleague who had died for the nation…
“Seize her.”
Chen Meng issued the order coldly, his eyes dark and sharp with malice.
“The eighty thousand Divine Strategy soldiers do not belong solely to the Fang family—they must be returned to the court. If Jiang Chao refuses to surrender the troops, don’t blame this old minister for being harsh with Her Majesty!”
The imperial guards hesitated, unwilling to lay hands on the former empress dowager who had once ruled behind the curtain. However, within Taicheng, Grand Tutor Chen Meng now held supreme authority, and no one dared defy his commands. After a moment of hesitation, they finally raised their blades toward the frail woman. Amidst the chaos, the emperor shouted from the side: “Do not harm her—none of you are allowed to harm her!”
But Song Shuyan was already oblivious to the events around her. Her eyes were fixed only on the burning pavilion and the figure inside whose face she could no longer see—he was so close, so very close. If she just tried a little harder, she could…
Whoosh!
An arrow sliced through the air, piercing the neck of a soldier attempting to approach her with his blade. Warm blood spurted out, splattering onto her pristine white robe like plum blossoms blooming out of season. The next moment, she heard the neigh of a horse and turned to look—it was none other than Zhaoying, his steed.
“Miss Song, hurry and leave—”
The shout rang in her ears. Upon closer inspection, she saw that the archer in the distance was Lou Feng. In the end, he hadn’t heeded her earlier plea and had entered the palace gates. Even knowing the inevitable outcome, he had come to help her break through the dead end she faced.
She gazed at him in a daze, noticing the hundreds of imperial guards behind him clad in armor bearing the insignia of the Southern Guard Headquarters—the same guards who had once tried to dissuade them outside Jinling’s walls. Before Lou Wei took command of the various guards, it was him who led them. And even now, after his departure, they were still willing to risk their lives to carve a path for her.
“Miss Song—”
“Go—”
… “Go”?
Where did they expect her to go?
Through the palace gates, to wander alone as a lost soul?
Or toward the burning spring mountain—to meet him one last time, regardless of life or death?
She already knew the answer and didn’t need to hesitate any longer. Selfishly, her steps moved forward, knowing she would never look back. Behind her, Lou Feng watched her depart with nothing but satisfaction in his heart. Countless sharp blades were eager to pierce his heart and tear his throat, yet he felt this was the most serene and composed moment of his life.
He understood… everything that had led to this day bore traces of the sins sown by the Lou family long ago.
The desire to win and prove oneself was universal. Initially, his father, Lou Xiao, harbored no malicious intent—only an unwillingness to remain subservient to others for generations, yearning for a chance to rise above. But the defeat at Shangxiaogu was irreversible, and a decade of war brought untold suffering. They carried burdens too heavy to bear, and even centuries of atonement wouldn’t suffice.
And the person he owed the most… was Lord Fang.
The world joked about the phrase “with Fang, without Lou,” assuming the Lou family endured humiliation while secretly harboring resentment. Yet, after Taiqing, he felt only endless shame and reverence for the Fang family. Lord Fang had treated him with such generosity, even maintaining the same camaraderie as when they were young. He forgave him, promoted him, entrusted the Southern Guard Headquarters to his younger brother, Lou Wei, and handed over the coveted Qianji Office to Jiang Chao and him. He tasked him with capturing traitors and implementing new policies, bit by bit restoring the Lu family’s lost prestige… All the while, he never said more than necessary, as if unaware of how precious such kindness was to him.
“There’s no need for such formalities outside the court,” he had said more than once. “Call me Yi Zhi, just as before.”
… “Yi Zhi”?
How could he dare.
A sinner burdened with unforgivable crimes, a petty man who envied even his closest friends…
How could he shamelessly pretend all was well and call him “Yi Zhi”?
—But today was different.
Though he hadn’t accompanied him to Chang’an to die, he could at least fulfill the final wish of the woman he loved most. She was right—there were countless people who thought they understood, yet only they truly did. He couldn’t fathom his intentions, but he deeply understood how lonely and impoverished his seemingly perfect life had been. If there was one person who could bring him joy at the end of life… perhaps it was also a kind of fulfillment for both of them.
Relentless blades cut into his flesh at his throat. Barely a hundred Southern Guards stood no chance against thousands. He saw many familiar brothers gravely wounded or captured, others falling and never rising again. The surging bloodshed was cruel and ruthless, while the ancient pavilion in the distance continued to emit thick smoke.
The woman was already very close.
With his last strength, he hurled his sword, knocking down another soldier attempting to harm her.
Seeing him unarmed, enemies swarmed around him. They thrust their blades into his chest and stomped his face into the flower-laden soil.
He felt his strength rapidly fading, even opening his eyes to see the world one last time becoming unbearably difficult.
But—
“Yi Zhi—”
His hoarse voice still rang out clearly across the plum grove.
“I—”
“Repaid you—”
… Song Shuyan heard that heart-wrenching cry but still didn’t turn back. She ran forward with all her might, pushing her exhausted body beyond its limits. Every obstacle seemed powerless to stop her. No matter the mountains or rivers, no matter the filth covering her body, she was determined to reach her destination.
She had to see him—
She absolutely had to see him—
“Stop her!”
Behind her, Wei Xi’s enraged scream echoed. Perhaps at that moment, he wanted to tear her apart.
“To whoever captures her, I grant the title of Marquis of Ten Thousand Households—quickly, quickly stop her for me—”
Throughout history, those granted the title of “Marquis of Ten Thousand Households” achieved immortal feats. Yet in this absurd and decaying era, simply capturing an empty-handed woman sufficed. Everyone went mad, risking everything to seize that boundless wealth. Amidst the chaos, someone even aimed a bow at her, shooting an arrow toward her slender back—
Whoosh!
A clear neigh suddenly sounded in her ear. She knew only one horse in the world could make her feel so familiar and at ease.
She remembered the snowy night on the mountain roads of Shangzhou, where through a window she caught a fleeting glimpse of him—a stranger whose image stirred her heartstrings. Then came acquaintance, understanding, love, and separation… In truth, compared to him, it was on paper that she spent the most time with it.
…Finally, she turned back.
It was indeed behind her. Its once long and strong limbs were now emaciated, and an arrow had pierced its front knee, forcing it to kneel in agony.
“Zhaoying—”
She called its name for the first time. In the past, during quarrels, she’d simply called it “you,” but it had a beautiful name—”The clear waters of the Canglang can wash my tassels”—a name that suited him perfectly.
Now, however, it collapsed. Its proud and unruly nature forced it to kneel before everyone in the most humiliating way. The indignity infuriated it, and though it struggled to rise, it failed. She thought she wouldn’t cry anymore, but seeing it amidst the sea of bodies and blood made her grieve deeply. For a moment, she regretted not leaving it behind in Yingchuan.
—And this scene triggered memories in Wei Xi.
She loved painting horses so much… stroke by stroke, month by month, year by year… immersing herself in a frenzy that sometimes frightened him as a child. He thought she was merely obsessed with painting, but today, seeing her with Zhaoying, he finally understood everything.
…She was thinking of him.
Every stroke she painted over the past ten years… was for him.
The merciless humiliation brought excruciating pain. He didn’t know how much more this woman could wound him. Yet, what hurt him most was that despite her shattering his trust and heart, he still… deeply, deeply… loved her.
“Kill it—”
He finally screamed hysterically.
“Kill that beast—”
“Kill it—”
It was a ridiculous order, but in this absurd day, it seemed entirely normal. Archers from all directions, skilled at hitting targets from a hundred paces, aimed their bows with emotionless faces, carefully avoiding the woman who spread her arms to shield the suffering animal.
“Neigh…”
This time, its voice grew faint, even as cruel arrows buried deep into its flesh, two of them blinding its eyes.
“No—”
Her anguished scream erupted from the depths of her soul, echoing faintly in the plum grove like snowflakes swirling in the wind. Everything she cherished was shattered beyond repair. Helplessly, she touched Zhaoying’s body, her hands covered in blood that seemed white to her eyes.
“Neigh…”
It softly called out once more, as if using its last ounce of strength. The peerless steed truly understood human joys and sorrows. It knew where she wanted to go and realized that despite traveling thousands of miles in its life, it could no longer take her there.
You must go see him.
See with your own eyes… whether my master will truly never return.
It seemed to speak, even as its weak breath could no longer sustain lively calls, and its bloodied eyes could no longer display its cunning expressions. She watched it lose its life in her arms, its head still straining toward the burning pavilion in its final moments.
And she… was already so close.
The aged wood and stone could not withstand the impact; its survival from the previous dynasty to now was already a rare feat. Now, consumed by raging flames, it disintegrated into sparks that fell continuously from above. Though the sight was perilous and terrifying, at that moment, it bore an air of solitary grandeur and beauty.
Tiny flames landed on the barren trees, igniting a wildfire that spread across the ground in an instant. She was firmly encircled at the heart of the inferno, while the swirling plum blossoms falling from the sky served only as bland, commonplace embellishments. The surrounding soldiers were blocked by the fire, unable to approach. Chen Meng and Wei Bi’s faces changed as they stood far away, sternly ordering others to retrieve her from the flames—perhaps fearing that if she died, they would lose their leverage over Jiang Chao to surrender the troops.
The emperor’s expression also changed, but it turned to one of panic and sorrow. He saw the flames nearly reaching the hem of her skirt, and his suddenly pale face looked almost comical. He seemed to go mad, rushing toward her recklessly, as if he no longer cared about endangering his “precious body” or even dying alongside her. But she didn’t want him to disturb her peace at such a moment. Fortunately, the loyal soldiers held him back. Tears streamed down his face, making him look utterly wretched. Perhaps, in that moment, he finally understood something—
…She would never love him.
No matter how stubbornly and repeatedly he tried, she would never love him.
“Mother—”
He finally relented, retreating to the position he should have stayed in all along—a meaningless retreat. His helpless demeanor no longer resembled that of a domineering, greedy man full of desire, but rather that of a child who had made a mistake and didn’t know what to do.
Through the flames, she gazed at him, memories of the past flashing before her eyes. Time had been long in the eastern capital, and she had indeed relied on him for warmth and survival. Yet, fate’s capriciousness had brought them to this point. Her good intentions had borne bitter fruit, and she could no longer trace the source of everything today—when, where, who, or what.
“Xi’er…”
She called him like this once more. It was unclear whether the haze before her eyes came from the scorching heat of the flames or the coldness of her tears. Her faint sigh carried both relief and attachment. No one knew how much love and hate she felt for him at that moment—not even herself could say.
“Mother—come back—”
He shouted loudly to her from beyond the flames, as if willing to sacrifice everything to ensure her safety.
“Xi’er was wrong—it was all my fault—”
“Mother, come back—you must come back—”
…A grown man cried like that.
It was as if he were a child again, wronged by the gossip of palace servants behind his back or terrified by dreams of his mother leaving him in the dead of night. Though they shared no blood ties, the ten long years they had spent together… did they truly count for nothing?
“No…”
She smiled through her tears, her eyes finally devoid of sorrow, joy, rain, or sunshine.
“I’m leaving…”
“Xi’er has grown up…I must go see the person I want to see.”
“He will be so lonely alone…”
“I…must go find him.”
She softly told him this as the edges of her sleeves were finally consumed by the flames. Her face grew blurrier, as if she were retreating further and further, deeper into the fiercest part of the fire, toward the only place in this world that still faintly connected to him.
“Mother—”
“Mother…Mother…don’t…”
“Don’t—”
He shook his head desperately, stretching out his hand with all his might, but the soldiers behind him restrained him, preventing him from moving even an inch. In the end, he could only watch helplessly as she moved farther and farther away.
“The world is filthy, unworthy of a glance…”
“Now that I regret this so deeply, I naturally feel it unjust for Third Brother too…”
She murmured to herself, her entire being now bathed in flames. The remnants of the ancient pavilion continued to collapse, yet she retreated deeper, seemingly oblivious to it all.
“But he devoted his entire life to it…”
“…How could I bear to let it end in ruin, worthless and forgotten?”
She seemed to smile, her beautiful face now completely hidden from him. Only a faint whisper emerged from the wildly burning flames.
“I wish Your Majesty eternal longevity…”
“I wish for the revival of our great cause to succeed soon.”
“I wish for the people of the land to live in peace and prosperity.”
“I wish for Great Zhou…”
“…to endure for ten thousand generations, never to perish.”
Boom!
Just as the last syllable of her voice vanished entirely into the heavens and earth—
The ancient pavilion, long engulfed by flames, finally—
…Collapsed with a thunderous roar.
[The End]
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