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Luo Wei stood there, and they both fell into an awkward silence. After an unknown period, she felt someone tentatively take her hand.
Ye Tingyan’s grip was careful, no longer possessing the unyielding stubbornness of the past.
Luo Wei sat down beside him, and Ye Tingyan, holding her hand, pulled her into his embrace.
It was still the scent of sandalwood and jasmine. He buried his head in her shoulder, leaning on her with complete dependence, even rubbing his face against her neck.
She suddenly asked, “When did you start to love me?”
Ye Tingyan was caught off guard and blurted out, “When I was young.”
Luo Wei then recalled, “Many years ago, you and Imperial Brother escorted the coffin into Bianjing, staying in Qingxi Courtyard. I... I must have seen you then.”
Ye Tingyan also remembered what she said when they first met on Gaoyang Terrace and murmured, “You said back then—”
“That was a lie,” Luo Wei interrupted softly. “Actually, I don’t even remember what you looked like.”
Ye Tingyan’s arms around her stiffened for a moment, his heart a mixture of joy and bitterness.
“But I’m not a fool; I could see your feelings,” Luo Wei continued. “You are the most astute politician. If not for those... uncontrollable feelings of yours, I would not be your match. I wouldn’t dare to test you with the words ‘rebel traitor’ even in ten thousand years.”
“Thank you for those feelings. Without them, I don’t know when I would have been able to leave the palace gates of this imperial city.”
Before he could speak, Luo Wei turned her head, her eyes faintly glistening with tears: “These past few days, living in this garden has felt like a dream. I know how you used to view me. If you hadn’t been soft-hearted all this time, after Yu Qiushi died, the next one you would have killed would have been me... I don’t blame you. Even if he were alive, he would probably think the same. I have changed too much, so much that I don’t even recognize myself anymore.”
“He wouldn’t,” Ye Tingyan gripped her shoulders, saying each word carefully. He spoke very seriously, as if the slightest relaxation would reveal his current emotions. “He...”
He suddenly couldn’t continue. The words circled on his tongue, then abruptly dissipated.
In the warm, quiet room in autumn, he looked at her, yet what he thought of was the unfamiliar face reflected in the bronze mirror on that desolate night.
How was he to tell her that the flawless moon in her heart, the eternally brilliant sun in the high heavens, had become so timid, malicious, and unable to bear the light?
He couldn’t escape his own inner demons; he had exposed his ugliest self to her.
Could all those unintentional hurts be treated as if they never happened?
And could they truly vanish instantly after the mask was removed?
He dared not speak. Even if he saw a flicker of surprise in her expression, asking how he had changed so much, he would wish he had never lived again.
Then, in her heart, he would forever remain the pure and perfect image she had loved from the very beginning.
But now, Luo Wei was in his arms. He always had a strange illusion, as if if he held her a little tighter, she would shatter.
Silence or speaking, it seemed, would both be a form of hurt.
“Have you set up a tomb for his clothes and cap?” Before he could regain his composure, Luo Wei looked up at him, asking with a hint of pleading, “Will you take me to see it?”
There was one, yes. He had personally carved a memorial tablet for it, a tribute to his past self.
Why should she grieve before a false deity? But to say “no” would not eliminate the lingering distrust she still held—his identity was different from Zhou and Bo’s. He could discern the testing between truth and falsehood. Luo Wei, after all, held a degree of suspicion towards him.
________________________________________
After much hesitation, he draped a cloak over her and led her to the garden between the study and the small pavilion.
Leaves filled the garden, the begonia trees were almost bare, but the bamboo grove behind them remained verdant. The two walked for a long time, one behind the other, before Luo Wei saw a small stone tablet on a platform.
—Spiritual Tablet of Crown Prince Leng of Chen Ming of Dayin.
Luo Wei reached out to touch the small, cold memorial tablet. The back of the tablet was empty, without even an epitaph.
Perhaps seeing her sorrow, Ye Tingyan put a hand on her shoulder, about to say something, but Luo Wei reacted strongly, pushing him away.
“Don’t touch me!”
A moment later, she suddenly came to her senses, her lips trembling, and she said in a confused manner, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Can you... can you leave me alone for a while?”
Ye Tingyan looked at her and softly called out, “Weiwei...”
“Please,” Luo Wei covered her ears, her legs giving way, and she knelt before the memorial tablet. “I don’t want to hear anything right now.”
As he was driven away by her, leaving the bamboo grove in a daze, he suddenly realized that in Luo Wei’s eyes now, he was both a familiar stranger who had loved her since childhood, and a loyal subordinate who had returned to seek revenge for Song Leng. This relationship was intricate and tangled, a complete mess.
He used to often be annoyed by Luo Wei’s docility and attempts to win him over, but her actions just now clearly told him—that apart from the person on the memorial tablet, she had never cared for anyone else.
Love and desire were clearly separated, by a chasm.
The wind blew through the bamboo grove, rustling.
Ye Tingyan leaned against a bare tree, raised his sleeve, and sniffed the scent on his collar. He used to love burning incense, and he hadn’t changed that habit; his study always had the old, beloved incense burning in it.
That strand of long hair she had caught, so that was the reason.
He felt somewhat dizzy with happiness, yet also an unspeakable timidity and wistfulness.
________________________________________
Before he could think further, Luo Wei emerged from the bamboo grove.
She hadn’t stayed for long, and when she came out, her earlier distress had completely vanished. Her face was slightly pale, but she was much calmer.
Ye Tingyan didn’t see her. It was only when Luo Wei walked behind him and took his sleeve that he hesitantly followed.
Luo Wei said, “Let’s find a place to talk.”
A “place to talk” meant a place not easily overheard by others. Ye Tingyan thought for a moment and took her to Zhou Chuyin’s room, which was filled with maps and sand tables.
Luo Wei and he sat opposite each other at the table. She first raised her hand and poured herself a cup of tea.
“Has the Censorate made any moves these past few days?”
Ye Tingyan suppressed his chaotic thoughts and replied, “Of course. Yu Qiushi’s death news is not far off, and the Empress then suddenly fell gravely ill. The Imperial Censorate hadn’t said anything yet, but someone from the Censorate already submitted a memorial.”
He cleared his slightly hoarse throat: “Song Lan has been feigning illness and not holding court these past few days, but he can’t drag it on for much longer. When he next attends morning court, the Censorate will surely launch a joint attack.”
Luo Wei suddenly said, “Not only that, I’ve prepared something else.”
Ye Tingyan was startled: “I’ve also prepared something else.”
Luo Wei was slightly surprised, then quickly said, “Since that’s the case, let’s each write it down and see if we’ve thought of the same thing, how about that?”
Ye Tingyan readily agreed. A moment later, the two exchanged the Xuan paper in their hands, laughed, and then placed them together.
The exact same character.
—輿 (yú, meaning chariot, or public opinion).
“The character ‘yu’ represents a unique chariot created by heaven among all tools,” Luo Wei pointed at the character and said with a smile. “Those in factions, they manipulate this character with ease. We shall attack with this very art.”
She smiled faintly: “Yesterday Chu Yin said that if a ruler is without virtue, his officials will face the disaster of being either elevated or cast into the abyss. This is indeed true. Song Lan has been on the throne for three years and has only just taken personal control. Without Yu Qiushi, he will surely find it extremely difficult to suppress his murderous nature. This scheme is merely to tear off his mask and let the world see it.”
Ye Tingyan interjected, “After the Censorate, there’s the Imperial Academy. The Six Ministries are already weak, and then with widespread panic, all officials will surely fear for themselves. You have the Yan family’s soldiers and pure-minded scholars behind you. I have half of the Imperial Guards and capable border generals behind me. Public opinion is here, and thus fate is here; success or failure hangs in the balance. The main thing we need to strategize is how to contain the palace coup within the crimson walls as much as possible, to avoid harming innocent people.”
Luo Wei hadn’t expected him to think of this and nodded approvingly.
Their conversation was somewhat perfunctory, not mentioning many other inherent dangers, such as Song Lan’s unwillingness to sit idly by, and his likely determination to drag everyone down with him if things reached an extreme.
There were also the restless border tribes. If they saw internal strife in the court, would they seize the opportunity to cause trouble?
At that point, they would just have to adapt to the situation.
Ye Tingyan sighed and asked, “After this is done, what do you plan to do?”
Luo Wei, however, suddenly asked, “In your original plan, who were you prepared to put in his place?”
Ye Tingyan didn’t say anything. She then deliberated, “His Imperial Brother, King Cheng, is a brave general. After being enfeoffed, he loyally guarded the southwest and vowed never to return to court for the sake of brotherhood; he is truly a noble gentleman. The Three Princes shunned the world, and the Fifth Prince is dead. Prince Linyang is a fop who only seeks self-preservation, but he might be useful when needed. Although Prince Xiaoxiang is young and escaped Song Lan’s slaughter, he is exceptionally intelligent and could also be an heir. And there’s Shukang...”
He listened closely. Luo Wei’s tone suddenly shifted: “But...”
“I’ve sent people to Xinan to look for Ling Cheng for so long. Since he’s here, there’s no need to hide it from you anymore.”
He suddenly had a strong premonition, an invisible premonition that suddenly enveloped him.
Luo Wei said, “After this is done, I want to find someone to disguise as His Highness.”
“That ‘False Dragon’s Roar’ from before, did you listen carefully? The lotus has left the country for a long time, but if the iron town is lost, the immortal true dragon will return—I wrote this poem to set the stage for the future.”
Ye Tingyan followed her words and suddenly understood the strangeness he had felt the first time he heard “False Dragon’s Roar.”
Yu Qiushi and Song Lan were accomplices. If they wanted to frame someone, wouldn’t bringing up this matter be too risky? They could just write that the current emperor was immoral. Why insist that the “true dragon” was wronged?
And Luo Wei continued, her voice unhurried, utterly unlike her almost frantic ideas: “Song Lan was certain he was dead, which is why he dared to create such a towering posthumous reputation for him, the statue on Tinghua Terrace, and that poem ‘Elegy for Jintian’—he used him, elevating a soul to a pedestal, so I will simply bring this soul back from hell.”
“As long as he reappears before the world, everything Song Lan has done in the past will become his own grave—public opinion will be overwhelming, and every person he killed will become a sharp weapon to crush him.”
“I must leave him a lasting legacy,” she said. “After restoring Great Yin to a prosperous era, when we meet again, he will not blame me.”
She had probably never spoken these words to anyone else. Now, having poured them out, she felt a sense of relief.
________________________________________
Luo Wei turned her head and saw Ye Tingyan standing rooted, his face as white as paper. When she turned back, he stumbled forward, almost falling on the flat ground.
She stepped forward, reaching out to help him, but then she saw his bloodshot eyes clearly.
The moment their eyes met, Ye Tingyan suddenly clutched his chest and fell backward, likely due to a relapse of his heart condition. She quickly knelt beside him, half-embraced his shoulder, and called out twice towards the door.
“I...” Ye Tingyan said with difficulty, “I have something to tell you...”
But just those few words exhausted his strength. Luo Wei gently patted his back and found blood oozing from his mouth, staining the back of her hand.
Bo Senseng rushed in, kicked open the door, and seeing the situation, reached out to take him.
Ye Tingyan clutched Luo Wei’s sleeve, refusing to let go, one hand coughing blood and persistently repeating: “I have something... to tell you... to tell you...”
Bo Senseng cursed, “You can save it for the underworld!”
Ye Tingyan struggled not to faint, just tightly clutching her sleeve: “...Don’t leave.”
Luo Wei looked at him, her heart trembling, and couldn’t help but soothe him, “I won’t leave.”
She held his hand, and repeated, “I won’t leave.”
________________________________________
Only then did Ye Tingyan relax his grip and suddenly fall unconscious. Bo Senseng opened a box to find needles. Seeing her pale face, he said helplessly, “You go back and rest first.”
Luo Wei gently nodded, somewhat dazed. Not until she returned to her room and saw the remaining bloodstains on the back of her hand did she still feel an emptiness in her heart.
It felt as if the closer she got, the more she would learn something unknowable.
This premonition persisted until two hours later, when Pei Xi knocked on her door, saying that Ye Tingyan was already fine and had intended to come find her, but there was a sudden imperial edict, forcing him to leave. He might not return for a few days.
Pei Xi said, “The young master said he remembers your last words.”
Her last words were, “I won’t leave.”
Luo Wei “hmm”ed. Pei Xi, observing her expression, bit his lip, and asked again, “Em... would you like to go to the young master’s study and take a look?”
Luo Wei was somewhat out of it. Just as Pei Xi thought she wouldn’t answer, she suddenly said, “Okay.”