CT - 76

Ye Tingyan held her back, remaining silent for a long time before he finally managed to clear his head.

Luo Wei lay slumped on his shoulder, completely drained of strength, too tired to say another word.

Her hair, so beautifully kept, lay unbound by any adornments, tangled with his, inextricably intertwined.

In that moment of profound disorientation, she had called out “Brother” in his ear.

Who was she calling?

It couldn’t be Song Lan.

He thought, Song Lan constantly suspected whether she sought out others due to ambition, and he too was often tormented by vague conjectures—when she used him, she showed no regard for herself; when she used others, naturally, she would show no regard either.

So that “Brother,” to her, was merely a playful remark born of deep emotion.

But for him, those two words were different.

They resonated in the cold winter corridor, a girl’s tender cry of alarm as she held her skirt; they echoed beneath the interweaving blossoms of begonia and crape myrtle in the garden, her smiling “Ah Tang”; and in the small boat returning from the horizon on Huiling Lake, she held lotus leaves and pods, waving to him from afar, a call full of love.

The mere thought that one day those two words, uttered from her lips, might not be meant for him, made him want to kill.

Yet, the next moment, he heard words he had never anticipated.

“You are his person.”

—Whose person?

—Mine, Your Highness.

He thought of these two sentences in a daze, and his hands, holding her, trembled violently.

He didn’t even have time to consider whether these words were true or false. His eyelashes fluttered, and tears streamed down his face.

Luo Wei felt his tears and softly asked, “You were just talking about me, but why are you crying?” ◎

She reached out to wipe his tears, feeling his lips and eyelids trembling incessantly.

A thousand words choked in his heart and throat, but not a single one could escape. Ye Tingyan held her as he sat up, feeling as if he were on the boundary between dream and reality.

That sentence was so beautiful, he dared not consider its truth or falsehood.

Like a dying person’s thirst, he was truly too thirsty; even poison would be sweet.

After a long silence, Ye Tingyan, as if in a dream, slowly asked, “What did you... just say?”

Luo Wei’s tears broke into a smile, and she clearly repeated for him.

“Let’s work together to avenge His Highness.”

She extended her hand and intertwined her fingers with his: “Did I guess your intentions correctly—you burn the incense he loved most, and you suffered for his relatives on Mount Xiuhqing. I’ve guessed for so long, and finally forced the truth out of you, so you...”

Tears flowed over recently dried tear tracks. In that instant, Ye Tingyan felt her tone also tinged with a hint of pleading.

As if it wasn’t just him who needed her as an accomplice; she needed his answer even more, to find some meager support on her lonely path ahead.

“So don’t pretend anymore. Tell me the truth.”

“Why, why...”

His mind was in turmoil. Ye Tingyan repeated the question several times, rambling, before finally asking, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Sensing his silent acknowledgment, Luo Wei breathed a sigh of relief and let out a soft laugh: “You are so clever. You couldn’t bring yourself to say ‘rebel traitor.’ Even though I suspected for a long time, how could I dare to speak? It was truly difficult to feign ignorance in front of you.”

He asked in a trembling voice, “Aren’t you afraid that I’m still trying to trick you now?”

Luo Wei said, “Is that so? If I’m wrong and die by your hand, it’ll be a release. I’m truly too tired, too tired...”

It wasn’t a lie; she was indeed utterly exhausted now. The taste of finally finding a fellow traveler was too good. She truly wanted to cast everything aside and fall into a deep sleep amidst the scent of sandalwood and jasmine.

But it was not yet time. Luo Wei rallied her spirits and placed a flattering kiss on his cheek.

She tasted the salty bitterness of tears: “After the third watch tonight, my people will feign an attack on the hunting grounds. You go down the mountain to Song Lan’s side; you’ll surely be able to separate yourself... Furthermore, you’re right. If I were to go north with Young Yan now, I’d certainly be pursued all the way. I cannot leave Bianjing for now. You must find an absolutely, absolutely safe place for me.”

He didn’t know what to say, so he just replied, “Alright.”

“I’m counting on you,” Luo Wei grasped his disheveled lapels, her weariness growing heavy, “I...”

After speaking that one word, she suddenly sobered up. She forced her eyes open and looked at him again, then corrected herself, “No, it’s we... I’m counting on you. We cannot lose.”

He stroked her face, and suddenly felt as if he had traveled in an instant from a place very far away to right beside her.

“I—”

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but what? Was it a question, asking if she truly loved a dead spirit in hell so deeply, even unto death, without regret? Was it a yearning, a desire for her to repeat this utterly beautiful vow again and again, to make him absolutely certain?

Or was it impatient joy? Did she know that he hadn’t died, that he had suffered from her betrayal, and that this betrayal was a clumsy lie, that he had been unintentionally hurt by her, and had unintentionally hurt her, and that this old debt was now impossible to settle?

Ye Tingyan hesitated for a long time, not knowing how to say those words.

Perhaps, more so, not knowing how to face her.

And she had already fallen into a drowsy sleep amidst his silence, her fingers tightly clutching his clothes, murmuring “Your Highness,” tears slipping down her cheek, where traces of earlier tears mingled.

His heart trembled as he thought, I missed you so much.

—Were you the same?

He gripped her shoulders tightly, just about to speak, when he suddenly heard a gust of wind. Looking up, he saw the ancient bronze mirror placed at the head of the bed.

Reflected in the bronze mirror was an utterly unfamiliar face.

It wasn’t his own appearance as he remembered it.

He stared blankly at the bronze mirror for a long time, examining it again and again under the candlelight—thin cheeks, eyes filled with emotion, tainted with a hint of alluring blush from passion. Those clear eyes, that moon-like tenderness, had vanished without a trace at some unknown point, as if they had never existed.

This was really his appearance?

In her eyes, was he truly this image—that lofty moon in the clouds, the one she loved, which had suddenly plunged into a bottomless muddy swamp? Could it truly remain unstained?

Ye Tingyan was startled by himself, almost fleeing the room. Before leaving, he forced his mind to go blank as he fastened her clothes, wiped away the bloodstains from her face, and then draped the black cloak he had worn over her.

She probably hadn’t slept so well in a long time, he thought.

As he did these things, he forced himself to forget the face in the bronze mirror earlier, immersing himself in a tranquility he hadn’t experienced in a very long time.

Even the frequent pain in his heart vanished completely, leaving only a heart full of love and tenderness.

A delusion flashed by, asking what if she was still deceiving him, what if she had seen through his thoughts and used this feigned weakness to exploit him?

This thought instantly vanished without a trace.

The day Song Lan feigned a reprimand, Pei Xi was anxious for him the whole way, and even Zhou Chuyin showed a hint or two of panic. Only when he realized it was a pre-planned scheme did he relax. Since the Lantana assassination case that year, despite receiving everyone’s selfless help, he still dared not confide in anyone, fearing that another betrayal might suddenly emerge from behind.

After all, he had nothing left now, and he wasn’t even sure when he could avenge the bloody vendetta against him. If even the closest people had harbored ill intentions before, what should he do now?

He leaned against the door, hearing Zhou Chuyin say to Pei Xi with a touch of pity, “This is your master’s heart ailment; don’t blame him.”

Just like that day under the moon when he personally handed over his saber—if she had murderous intent then, if it were still her trick now, what meaning would there be in his struggling to survive in a sea of hatred until today?

Ye Tingyan closed the door and walked away, dazed and stumbling through the multiple gates in front of the temple.

As he walked, memories in his mind swiftly receded, as fast as a revolving lantern in the Lantern Festival flower market.

Ye Tingyan remembered the first time he heard “False Dragon’s Roar” in the marketplace. The storyteller recited the lyrics Luo Wei had written herself, repeatedly sighing, “The lotus has left the country for a thousand years,” “The lotus has left the country for a thousand years.” He walked through the melancholy lotus corridor on Huiling Lake, his sleeves filled with fragrance.

She saved Qiu Fang’s daughter, who was implicated in the Golden Heaven case, plotted to kill Lu Heng, and hesitated for a long time in front of Zhang Pingjing’s mansion.

He took the Vermilion Birds and found a broken character “见” (jian, meaning ‘see’ or ‘meet’) in Lu Heng’s room.

“Jian,” as in meeting someone face-to-face.

Before Song Zhiyu died, she clutched his sleeve and explained for Luo Wei, with whom she had always been at odds, “She didn’t.”

He stood outside Xiuhqing Temple in the torrential summer rain, hearing her low voice, which seemed to carry both joy and sorrow: “Speaking of which, it was the late emperor who helped me...”

The saber he had personally offered fell between them, striking the quiet night with a dull thud.

The secret room was pitch black. Light flashed as the door slowly closed, allowing him a glimpse of the Great Yan’s military defense map.

—Did he just become so sure that what was illuminated in that instant was necessarily ambition?

And more, much more.

He remembered the story of the female general she had told. Her voice was gentle yet firm, saying that if it were she, she would surely not let the fire burn only in her own palace.

Then that fire coalesced into a long sword, appearing in her painting that day.

After bringing the painting back to his residence, he dared not examine it closely. Now, thinking back, who was the melancholic woman on the pavilion waiting for to return? Why was she wiping a long sword, and inscribing “The white crane has gone, the railing clapped all over” to one side?

Ye Tingyan looked up blankly at the dark sky.

In the void, he seemed to see the dome of the Golden Hall of Juhua Temple in Xuzhou.

They were so young then, untouched by harm, betrayal, or the world’s hardships and pain. They simply followed their hearts, making simple heroic dreams.

“I wish to be with Brother Ah Tang, to bring clarity to the world, to enlighten the people, to make the land rich and peaceful, to unify the four borders overseas, to free the people from hunger, disease, and war, and to protect officials from displacement, distant exile, and ill-timed misfortunes.”

He interjected from the side, “One day, the Great Way will be like a clear sky, with wise ministers within and brave generals without, restoring the prosperous era of our ancestors.”

“I am willing to sacrifice everything for this, to burn myself, without regret.”

The two solemnly bowed. As they rose, Luo Wei whispered to him, “I am also willing to sacrifice everything for you...”

He felt it was ominous and covered her mouth with his hand, saying helplessly, “Enough, enough. If that day comes, there’s no need for sacrifice. I’d rather you be selfish and just live happily.”

Luo Wei smiled back, “But if it were you, it would be the same. We are alike; let’s not defer to each other anymore.”

Did he still remember the vows they made that year?

Since returning to Bianjing, with the Xiyuan murder case, the “False Dragon’s Roar,” and the deaths of Ning Le and Yu Qiushi, Luo Wei had drawn him in as a close official. Her actions in front of him were not as cautious as they were in front of Song Lan, and her flaws were undeniable.

Yet he had closed his eyes and ears, unwilling to admit it himself. The sunless months beneath the Candle-Burning Tower had become an intractable obsession for him. If Luo Wei hadn’t forced him to speak and then admitted the truth herself today, with his stubbornness, he would never, ever have dared to think otherwise.

—It was Song Lan who had broken his spirit, and he had condemned her before their reunion.

Ye Tingyan closed his eyes.

He thought of her face, and suddenly, a chilling realization washed over him: that face had never become unfamiliar.

The one who had truly changed was himself.

It was he who had stained himself with the grime of hatred, becoming suspicious, sickly, a madman unable to bear light, daring not to trust even those closest to him. Wandering amidst so many flaws, he had failed to see a heart as bright as the moon, a heart of an old friend.

He walked faster and faster, finally unable to help but laugh, laughing louder and louder, gasping for breath. He leaned on a nearby pillar and wiped the tears from his face with his sleeve.

For four years, he felt he had never been as joyful as he was today.

But this was not the time to relax. He dried his tears and tidied his clothes in front of the small pond in the temple. Before leaving the temple, he turned around and saw the somewhat dilapidated statue of Emperor Gaozu.

He wanted to go forward and bow, but in the end, he didn’t move.

Ye Tingyan walked to the front of the temple and softly whistled. Yuan Ming returned from the forest with his men and respectfully bowed to him.

“Your Highness.”

In the darkness of the night, he looked down. Although these Vermilion Bird Guards were personally selected by Song Lan, many, like Yuan Ming, had old ties with him. The former refugees in the Golden Heaven Guard whom he had promoted, the sons of convicted officials in the Ministry of Justice whom he had granted amnesty... If Yuan Ming hadn’t carefully arranged people within the Vermilion Bird and introduced them to him, he would have almost forgotten that he had done these things years ago.

For him, it was an inadvertent glance, but for the others, it was entirely different.

Before Ye He sacrificed himself to save him, he dared not believe that anyone would die for a vague past kindness.

The statue gazed down with compassion, like a comfort bestowed by deities and ancestors.

________________________________________

Luo Wei slept as if the world had turned upside down. When she awoke again, she found herself in a bumpy carriage.

Before she could think about who was driving, she lifted the curtain and saw that it was already broad daylight, and she was back in Bianjing city!

The carriage sped past the Bian River. Luo Wei steadied herself and had just opened her mouth to say “Excuse me,” when the person sitting beside the coachman on the outside of the carriage lifted the curtain and burst in, teasingly remarking, “Her Majesty the Empress is well.”

She glanced at him, realizing it was a face she didn’t recognize at all, and cautiously replied, “May I ask who you are...”

The person, however, very familiarly leaned closer and clucked at her, then changed his tone and said, “Luo Wei, it’s been so many years, how did you become so proper? You’re no longer the bold girl who dared to secretly snip my master’s white beard!”

Although the voice hadn’t been heard for a long time, she immediately recognized it and called out, both surprised and delighted, “Ling Cheng! Why are you here?”

Bo Senseng covered his ears, saying with a headache, “Alright, alright, stop calling ‘Ling Cheng.’ Those two words are so awkward...”

Luo Wei ignored him: “Ling Cheng, I sent people to Jinguancheng three times, but couldn’t find you. Were you in Bianjing city all this time?” Ψ

Bo Senseng asked strangely, “Why were you looking for me? There are many imperial doctors in the imperial city. Did someone contract a serious illness that’s hard to cure?”

Luo Wei replied, “It’s a long story...”

She hadn’t finished speaking when she suddenly heard a horse neigh. The driver outside said, “Doctor, please get off the carriage.”

Luo Wei asked, “Where is this?”

Bo Senseng said, “Lord Ye’s residence in the capital. He found a courtyard for you earlier; it’s perfect for use now.”

Luo Wei was startled, then relieved: “He really... very good, very good. So you were with him. No wonder I couldn’t find you.”

After speaking, she hesitated a little: “I wonder how things are at Guyou Mountain, are they still going smoothly? How did you bring me into Bianjing city? Will I not be discovered here?”

“You have so many questions,” Bo Senseng said painfully, “Never mind. Come and see what you look like now.”

He took a bronze mirror from the carriage. Luo Wei took it and looked, realizing that Bo Senseng had already given her a simple disguise when he brought her away. Time was short, and to prevent her from being recognized, he had added many swollen areas to her face, making her look as if she had been stung by bees.

Luo Wei reached out to touch her face and couldn’t help but feel annoyed: “You—”

Bo Senseng jumped out of the carriage and fled: “A temporary measure, a temporary measure!”