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The guards close to Crown Prince Chengming were personally named by the late emperor.
It was said that on the evening of the Lantern Festival when the crown prince was born, colorful clouds swirled, and even after sunset, golden light illuminated the ground. No one could explain it until a minister cited the “Southern History,” mentioning that a similar phenomenon occurred in the eighth year of Yongming. People at that time wrote the “Ode to Golden Heaven,” saying, “This is not Golden Heaven, but so-called glory.” Today, coinciding with the first great festival of the year and reappearing this scene, it was an auspicious sign of a heavenly sovereign descending.
The emperor was delighted and named the palace where the prince resided “Golden Heavenly Palace” and bestowed the name Golden Heaven Guard upon his close guards, meaning the team guarding the Golden Heaven.
At the age of three, Song Ling received the title “Chengming.” The monk Jiyun from Xiuzi Temple and the Taoist Ziwēi from Xuanwei Temple, invited by the late emperor, attended the prince’s birthday banquet. Monk Jiyun drew a divination stick, and Taoist Ziwēi cast a hexagram; both declared unanimously that the “Golden Heavenly Palace” was somewhat presumptuous.
Only then did the late emperor take down the palace plaque and change the name of the imperial guards beside Song Ling.
At ten years old, during the flood in Jiangnan, refugees crossed westward. Song Ling saw many orphans who had lost their parents at Fang Hezhi’s place and helped them settle.
Later, he selected volunteers from this group to bring into Changfeng Hall, training with him for many years and reorganizing the Golden Heaven Guard.
At twelve, he was crowned Crown Prince, and his reputation grew increasingly prominent. Every time he passed through the streets of Bianhe, he was often welcomed by the people lining the streets. The Golden Heaven Guard followed behind the Crown Prince, wearing narrow-sleeved robes embroidered with gold and qilin, carrying coiled snake daggers, majestic and spirited.
At that time in Biandu, from noble to common sons, all young men aspiring for military service considered being included in the Golden Heaven Guard as the highest honor.
Thus, within the Great Yin territory, everyone knew that “Golden Heaven” was the alias for that favored son of heaven.
Song Zhiyu loved literary arts and had several poems widely circulated among the literati of Biandu. However, Luo Wei never expected that while she was embroiled in a life-and-death struggle with Yu Qiushi over collective punishment inside the palace, Song Zhiyu suddenly wrote an “Elegy for Golden Heaven.” This “Elegy for Golden Heaven” spread like wildfire across the literary world of Great Yin.
“Elegy for Golden Heaven,” as the name implies, was a mourning poem written for Crown Prince Chengming.
Song Ling had harmonious relations with the royal family, and Song Zhiyu being a princess of the royal house writing a poem in mourning was naturally within reason.
In the poem, she wrote about her older brother’s friendship, ambitions, and elegance, lamenting his untimely death. Li Bai’s poetry mentions, “To the west of Golden Heaven, where the sun sets” [2] — this splendid, dazzling life, like the sun and lightning implied in his name, burned brightly for an instant and then vanished into nothingness.
After reading this poem, no one failed to feel sorrow and indignation for the deceased Crown Prince and hatred for the gloom and evil spirits that killed the sun. Some, after getting drunk, hung a white cloth on Fengle Tower, rewriting the “Elegy for Golden Heaven” in red ink, drawing continuous applause from surrounding scholars.
Even now, Luo Wei still didn’t understand whether those actions were genuinely to mourn the dead Crown Prince or to seek fame and the opportunity to rally support.
On the first day after the poem was published, the literary circles of Biandu picked up their pens, competing to write articles mourning the Crown Prince. Sentences flowed like water, freely written and sung at various banquets.
On the fifth day, some imitated those at Fengle Tower, writing grievances in blood on the Bian River; others hung red silk on the city walls, demanding severe punishment for the perpetrators of the Citang Case.
Some even distributed poetry leaflets in bustling markets, passionately debating and inciting crowds to storm the Censorate.
Like igniting sparks, it spiraled out of control.
Luo Wei stood before the vermilion railing of the Censorate, gazing at the clamorous crowd below, finding the world absurdly ironic.
These people loudly proclaiming injustice might not have read Song Ling’s poetry, appreciated his political achievements, understood his ideals and aspirations, or known his character and conduct.
None of his truly good scholar friends participated, remaining silent.
The few remaining supporters of Luo Wei who opposed “indiscriminate killing” finally succumbed to such public opinion and fell silent.
Yu Qiushi stood beside her, holding the railing, revealing a slightly mocking yet utterly indifferent smile: “Your Highness, look, these people have no connection with the prince, yet they can cry out for him. You, who have known him for ten years, why are you standing here, opposing this old minister?”
Luo Wei struggled to suppress the trembling between her lips and looked back.
The officials of the Censorate were right behind them, but the surroundings were too noisy for anyone to hear Yu Qiushi’s words.
After hearing his statement, neither spoke again. They merely stared at each other intensely atop the emotionally charged railing, in the summer-breeze sunset of Biandu.
Luo Wei felt a chill run down her spine, and Yu Qiushi saw her bloodshot eyes—precisely from that moment, he began to suspect that the person before him already knew the truth beneath the surface.
However, he only had suspicions, no evidence.
Just as Luo Wei initially only had suspicions, no evidence.
As the sun set in the west, the distant sky was grand and glorious, filled with afterglow. At someone’s urging, the crowd below the Censorate began reciting in unison the “Elegy for Golden Heaven” —
I think of the immortal who has already ridden the yellow crane westward, to the west lies the mountain of ten thousand years.
Recalling the guest under the begonia flowers, once seen in the Golden Bright Pavilion.
The sword leads to the east corner, its brilliance shining over six states, calling for peace.
Suddenly, wind quenches the sorrowful haze, and the ghosts in the box sacrifice with the sword of life.
People gone, flowers fallen, the blue sky ends, wet red tears cover the cold of the day.
Mourn Golden Heaven!
From the depths of the netherworld emerges the azure rhinoceros, summoning souls straight to the azure heavens.
On the road to Xianyang, I bid you farewell, a journey of a thousand years into the void.
Those who share affection should grow old together, why hasten the decay of orchids and fall of white silk!
...
Below the platform, everyone chanted in unison, “Why hasten the decay of orchids and fall of white silk.” Someone suddenly burst into uncontrollable sobs, and someone waved the white clothes privately cherished by the Crown Prince, as if to call back his soul.
Amidst the cacophony of sounds, Yu Qiushi glanced downward, a faint smile playing on his lips.
Following his gaze, Luo Wei suddenly spoke: “Do you think this means you’ve won?”
Her voice was so soft that Yu Qiushi momentarily thought it was just his hallucination.
Luo Wei gazed at the dense crowd before her, unable to suppress laughter, laughing so hard she leaned forward and backward. The wind lifted her slightly disheveled hair, and she waved her sleeves and left, leaving only a fleeting remark.
“We’ll see.”
Yu Qiushi watched her retreating figure, suddenly realizing he might have made a mistake.
After using Luo Wei’s imperial sword to help Song Lan ascend to the throne, he hadn’t given much regard to this girl who was not yet twenty. Later, when Song Lan requested, saying directly establishing a Yu daughter might harm his reputation, considering Luo Wei’s favor towards him and his own fixation,
Yu Qiushi took a step back and didn’t interfere with Song Lan making her Empress.
Only under today’s setting sun did he realize Song Lan made her Empress to cultivate a chess piece to oppose him.
Even Song Lan himself didn’t know whether this chess piece was black or white, whether it would align with him or not.
But to suppress the Yu family’s power, this piece was indispensable.
Even now, Luo Wei could recall the sensation of traversing through the verses of “Elegy for Golden Heaven.”
In her eighteen years of life, she had never experienced such a sinister and terrifying moment.
Her lifelong lover had departed, the younger brother she protected had unclear intentions. She was overwhelmed by public opinion, walking alone, and couldn’t find anyone to rely on.
Zhang Pingjing met her a few days ago, abruptly asking her a question.
He asked, does Your Majesty believe that one person’s strength can withstand the public opinion of the court and the world?
Without hesitation, Luo Wei answered, let’s try first.
So Zhang Pingjing revealed a bitter yet relieved smile, saying he had asked others the same question and received the same answer. He advised against excessive rigidity, and today he imparted the same words to her.
She was young and impulsive, unwilling to heed such advice. Reflecting now, if not for the sudden war report from the northern frontier that day, she might have done something irreparable.
Luo Wei tightly closed her eyes, and a vision appeared out of nowhere. She looked up and saw the golden dome of Jinhua Temple in Xuchou.
Then she smelled the fragrance of sandalwood.
Someone whispered in her ear, “Your Majesty, you’re distracted.”
She opened her eyes and saw Ye Tingyan’s face close by in the dark, silent hall.
He had pitch-black eyes like Song Ling, and when focused on her, he always made her easily forget all pretenses around her.
Thus, Luo Wei reached out to hug him, burying her head in his shoulder.
It seemed she was increasingly indulging in these moments between reality and illusion, she thought.
Ye Tingyan was somewhat surprised but didn’t resist. His fingers ran through her hair, reaching her back, and lightly patted—an assuring gesture: “Why do you always drift off?”
After a long while, Luo Wei muttered in response, “Who told you to always come at night? I’m so tired.”
Ye Tingyan pulled her up to sit, placing her on his lap, gently rocking her.
Luo Wei gradually calmed her emotions, recalling previous words, stiffened slightly, then asked in a light tone, “What grudge did you refer to earlier?”
Reflecting on it, her confrontation with Yu Qiushi back then mostly happened within the palace. Those who recited poems below the Censorate, including Song Zhiyu, might not know how much effort she put in to protect these people.
Those who knew had died on the rack years ago.
Later, Luo Wei investigated repeatedly and confirmed that Song Zhiyu writing the “Elegy for Golden Heaven” that year was indeed colluding with Yu Qiushi.
But... why did Ye Tingyan know she harbored hidden resentment?
Upon hearing this, Ye Tingyan paused briefly, then slowly said, “Everyone knows that Master Gan only accepted three disciples in his lifetime. One was an unknown scholar from Jiangnan, whose name remains unknown except for his surname Zhou; one was the former Crown Prince, and the other… is you.”
Hearing this, Luo Wei exclaimed softly, finally recalling some more distant past events.
Ye Tingyan’s tone was somewhat strange: “Princess Ning Le visited Master Gan’s residence three times, hoping to become his disciple, but Master Gan ended up accepting you. She was extremely resentful and openly mocked at a banquet, saying Master Gan accepted you because your father and the Crown Prince vouched for you, causing you to be discussed by many for a long time.”
Back then, she disliked associating with Song Zhiyu because she knew of her self-importance and intolerance. She wasn’t sure if it was good or bad, so she kept a respectful distance.
A mere jest, she forgot it completely. It turned out that in others’ eyes, her discord with Song Zhiyu stemmed from this reason?
Luo Wei didn’t know whether to laugh or cry but felt relieved.
She let go, wanting to say something, but suddenly heard distant footsteps in the previously silent garden. Through the closed flower window, she glimpsed a dim yellow light reflected on the window paper in the darkness.
Someone was approaching with a lantern!
Ye Tingyan obviously heard the sound too and became solemn. He intended to open the flower window but was caught by Luo Wei grabbing his wrist without explanation.
She pulled him up and hurried deeper into the inner hall.
The guards patrolling the garden saw the approaching person, and their voices gradually drew nearer.
Ye Tingyan originally intended to hide under her bed, but Luo Wei, without a word, dragged him into her cramped and narrow inner room. Then she forcefully pushed on the Buddha’s portrait.
She pushed precisely on the Buddha’s head. At this moment, Ye Tingyan even idly thought, this was quite disrespectful; he wondered if the gods would forgive her?
But looking at this place where three faiths coexisted, it seemed she didn’t care about such matters.
Before he realized it, he saw the wall in her inner room emit a subtle sound, then the bookshelf moved, revealing a dark secret chamber—he grew up in Qionghua Palace and didn’t know this remote small hall had a secret chamber!
Luo Wei pushed him in, nearly toppling him, but she didn’t care, immediately closing the door, running back to the bed and lying down. She inadvertently touched her unhealed wound, wincing in pain.
The moment she lay down, the door to the inner hall was pushed open by a palace maid. That maid called out to Li Neiren at the entrance, seeing her asleep deeply, disregarded everything else and rushed in, urgently whispering, “Your Majesty, the Emperor is here.”
Luo Wei rubbed her eyes, and the incoming Song Lan had already drawn back the gauze curtain in front of her bed. Before she could ask, “What happened?” Song Lan gravely said, “Sister, urgent military report from Youzhou—”
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