Chapter 13: Hastening Spring’s End (I)

After leaving the Empress’s palace, Ye Tingyan returned to Qianfang Hall. Song Lan had not yet finished discussing matters, so he waited in the side hall for a while, vaguely hearing intense arguing from behind the screen—sometimes “How can the people of Jiangnan wait?”, sometimes “The war on the borders is still unsettled.”

Standing in the shadow of the palace, he suddenly recalled words he had heard before, saying that the Crown Prince harbored ambitions for the world, always striving for perfection in everything. But with worldly affairs being so complex and varied, how could one grasp both ends without losing balance?

The wound below his collarbone layered over the pain of an old dagger piercing through, making him momentarily unable to bear it. He stepped back, clutching his chest.

A beam of sunlight shot through the gaps in the flower-patterned window in front of him, bright places filled with floating dust.

Song Lan happened to come out at this moment, seeing his condition, asked, “Tingyan, are you feeling better?”

Ye Tingyan quickly pulled himself out of such emotions, cupped his hands respectfully, and said, “Thank you for Your Majesty’s concern. This humble servant is fine now. The case is also concluded, and I may leave the palace today.”

Several elderly officials from the Political Affairs Hall and the Three Departments passed by their sides. Recognizing the low-ranking official favored by the young emperor as rumored, they all cast curious glances.

Yu Qiushi gave him a deep look.

He didn’t mind these gazes, standing calmly in place. After everyone had left, Song Lan spoke again, ambiguously praising, “Good.”

Then he asked, “Does the Empress suspect anything?”

Ye Tingyan replied, “Her Majesty was initially angry, scolded Commander Lu a few times, and said she would give Lady Siyi’s family a proper burial. Later, she only lamented, saying several times what a pity it was.”

Song Lan was somewhat disbelieving at first, but sighed when he heard about her sorrow, “Lady Siyi has been Her Majesty’s close friend since youth. Mourning for her is understandable.”

He patted Ye Tingyan’s shoulder, “You’ve done very well in this matter. After leaving the palace, go to the Ministry of Justice and conclude this affair. The Zhuque Office has just been established; using it too much will naturally cause dissatisfaction among senior ministers.”

His implication was for Ye Tingyan to handle Lu Heng for him. He originally thought that Ye Tingyan, being a scholar, might resist such a task, but unexpectedly, he deeply bowed and said, “Your Majesty can rest assured.”

Song Lan suddenly realized, “I almost forgot, you are also from a military family.”

After Ye Tingyan took his leave, exiting through the eastern gate, a carriage was already waiting. Upon boarding, Pei Xi wordlessly tied a brand-new silk blindfold over his eyes.

Seeing his pale face, Pei Xi asked, “Master, what happened?”

When not in the palace, Pei Xi insisted on not calling him “Lord,” nor could he continue calling him “Prince.” With difficulty changing his address, he now simply called him “Master.”

Ye Tingyan said gravely, “I guessed correctly.”

Pei Xi’s hand trembled slightly, “Why did the Empress scheme to kill Lu Heng?”

Ye Tingyan raised his hand, touching the silk blindfold over his eyes, rarely revealing a trace of fatigue and confusion, “I don’t know. She… is completely different from before.”

Pei Xi said, “Wasn’t Lady Siyi the Empress’s intimate acquaintance from her days in the mansion? Using her life to set a trap to kill Lu Heng, while keeping herself clean, the Empress is truly cunning.”

Ye Tingyan remained silent, so Pei Xi continued, “Perhaps it’s due to personal grudges. The Empress’s heart has turned wicked; doing anything isn’t surprising. However, this move accidentally spared Master from having to act. We originally planned that the first target would be that ungrateful wretch Lu Fengying…”

The silk blindfold was extremely light-blocking. In the complete darkness, what Ye Tingyan could recall was Luo Wei’s unrestrained laughter under the corridor earlier—she never laughed like that, nor ever had such an expression.

Madness concealed, unfathomably deep.

In that instant, his heart even stung for her.

Moments later, it solidified into a sense of revenge. He coldly thought, marrying Song Lan hadn’t made her any happier. Ultimately, the carefree maiden of the inner chambers had transformed into someone full of schemes and countless masks, ugly.

Just like himself.

Could it be that growth meant ruining beauty and shaping into something unworthy?

Ye Tingyan’s thoughts were tangled, unable to think further. Thus, he gave instructions, “Let’s detour to the Ministry of Justice.”

Before getting off the carriage, he squinted, reached out to tear off the silk blindfold, and shoved it back into Pei Xi’s hands.

Pei Xi wanted to follow, but Ye Tingyan stopped him. He leaned closer, hesitated to speak, and Pei Xi thought he had some orders. Unexpectedly, Ye Tingyan turned, lifted the curtain, and walked away, leaving behind the words, “From now on, do not discuss the Empress.”

•

Lu Heng lay half-dead in the damp straw of the prison in the Ministry of Justice. Ever since Song Lan came to see him the first time, saying nothing and ordering his tongue to be cut out after finding old belongings of Crown Prince Chengming in his residence, he knew he was finished.

Song Lan was the most suspicious person. Caught in the middle, he was exhausted. Asking Zhang Bu Jun to resign and leave the palace was also with the intention of using marriage to escape.

However, he should have known long ago that Song Lan wouldn’t let someone who knew so much leave.

Thinking of this, Lu Heng tightened his grip on the green jade ring he received during interrogation.

Zhang Bu Jun was far more ruthless than he imagined. He didn’t know whether this plan was prearranged by her or handled by the Empress.

If Song Lan had trusted him even a little, he could certainly have dragged the Empress down with him. But Song Lan decided to abandon this chess piece, so if the Empress already knew about past events, it was retribution for him.

He forced a smile, recalling the sight of his lover’s corpse through the well water. Whether because of the wounds on his body or the hidden pain in his heart, he felt as if knives were cutting through him until he heard rustling sounds. Lu Heng struggled to turn his head.

He saw a pair of pitch-black eyes in the dim firelight.

Green robes were worn by the lowest-ranking officials in the Great Yin Dynasty. Occasionally wearing regular clothes, they were dark red.

A few days ago, this green-robed official knelt before the screen, narrowly escaping death, seizing his sword to find a way out of desperation.

Now circumstances had changed, and the one falling into desperation was himself.

Seeing the imperial gold token in Ye Tingyan’s hand, the people from the Ministry of Justice hurriedly unlocked the cell for him, brought over a wooden chair used during interrogations, and sent everyone far away, fearing they might interfere with this important imperial matter.

Ye Tingyan didn’t sit on that chair. After ensuring everyone had left, he slowly approached, crouched down in front of Lu Heng, who was powerless to rise, and brushed the marks on his neck and shoulders, staining his hand with blood.

“Fengying.”

Lu Heng originally didn’t want to listen to his words, but upon hearing this, he abruptly raised his head, looking at the young civil official before him as if seeing a ghost.

“Do you know what your name means?” Ye Tingyan didn’t look at him, lowering his eyes as he spoke, “Feng means ‘to meet,’ and Ying refers to the chest, metaphorically meaning the heart—meeting the heart, achieving longevity. How much of this do you remember?”

Lu Heng was startled, shuddered, then flushed with anger. Reaching out his blood-stained hand to tug at Ye Tingyan’s robe hem, he made indistinct “ah ah” noises.

But Ye Tingyan knew what he wanted to say: “Are you asking why I am still alive?”

He had never liked referring to himself as “Gu,” often using “Ben Gong” instead.

His robe stained with blood, he no longer cared—Crown Prince Chengming used to be the most cleanliness-loving person, now utterly changed, overturned.

Lu Heng stared at him intently, trying to discern some traces of the past, but that handsome face was entirely unfamiliar, blank.

He dared to say that even if Empress Xiancheng were to rise from the dead, she wouldn’t recognize her own child.

Ye Tingyan looked up at him, a hint of sorrow in his gaze, and slowly said, “I didn’t need to come here personally, but considering how many years I cultivated you, I felt I should come to bid you farewell, Fengying…”

He pulled out the double-edged short sword of the Golden Sky Guard from his waist, removed its sheath, gently placed it in Lu Heng’s hand, and guided his hand to his own neck.

Since hearing his first words, Lu Heng had fallen into a kind of fervent collapse. Now with the blade nearing, although he knew he wouldn’t live much longer, he still trembled uncontrollably at the impending death, his hand holding the sword shaking severely, emitting some ghastly screams.

“I know, you’re still thinking that if you inform Song Lan of my identity, he will spare your life,” Ye Tingyan said regretfully, “but you won’t have such an opportunity. Actually, from the moment you decided to betray and seek another master, you were bound to end up like this. Greed, evil thoughts—everyone has them. That’s why they hang swords to remind themselves constantly, never slackening. But you… selecting you from the southern refugees was my mistake.”

Lu Heng abruptly fell silent, gripping the sword, trembling speechlessly, tears streaming down his face, pitiful and wretched.

Ye Tingyan carefully scrutinized him, continuing, “Do you remember where your sword pierced on the night of the Lantern Festival in the third year of Tianshou?”

Lu Heng followed his hand to look.

Ye Tingyan pressed his hand against the wound from which the slave mark had recently been excised, smiling faintly, “In midnight dreams, I often think of you, of your Emperor, of the Empress, wondering why you betrayed me.”

Lu Heng was stunned, realizing the implication of his words, and emitted a series of strange laughter.

Zhang Bu Jun abandoned him for her sense of “justice,” but it turned out that in the heart of the former prince living incognito, lovers were also betrayers.

Ye Tingyan continued, “Even if the Golden Sky Guard dies, Longfeng Hall will always keep a close weapon for sacrifice. This sword, stained with my blood and yours, can no longer ascend the wall of heroes. That year, when your master died in battle, I retrieved his longsword and wrote a line beside the wall—

‘Deep azure river water, with maple trees above, gazing a thousand miles, grieving in spring…’

“Ah!!”

Lu Heng rolled out a string of laughter from his throat, followed by a sharp scream. No one knew where he found the strength, suddenly gripping the sword hilt tightly, viciously slashing it across his neck.

Blood immediately gushed out, splashing the front of his former master’s robe.

Unmoved, he finished reciting the incomplete poem.

You will never again have the chance to die as a hero in this life.

“—Soul return, mourn the South of the Yangtze River.”[1]

When the people from the Ministry of Justice heard the commotion and rushed over, they only saw a green-robed civil official walking out of the cell, splattered with blood, but his expression unchanged: “His Majesty entrusted me today to bring Commander Lu’s old blade for him to see. Who would have thought he couldn’t bear the pain, seized it, and slit his own throat.”

The coroner walked into the cell, took a quick look, and nodded to the awaiting vice minister, “Indeed, it was suicide.”

Thus, the vice minister breathed a sigh of relief and politely said to Ye Tingyan, “Apologies for startling the censor. I will clearly document the records, stating the prisoner committed suicide. Even if the Censorate and the Court of Judicial Review doubt, they surely won’t find other flaws.”

Ye Tingyan said graciously, “Thank you for your hard work, Lord Vice Minister.”