Those bygone years, those scenes treasured in the depths of her heart, those dreams she had yearned for—all had finally transformed into such a sorrowful ending. Her tears suddenly flowed unstoppably, her body gradually turning ice-cold. The footsteps behind her grew closer, and time seemed so slow, slow enough for her to recall her simple yet rich life. She leaned against that massive gate and gradually closed her eyes.
She had traveled too far and too long—finally, she was tired.
Several personal guards ran forward, wanting to push her aside and open the temple gate, but for a moment they didn’t know where to begin. The woman had been shot like a hedgehog, her entire body covered with arrow shafts. Liu Changyong flew into a rage, yanking out those sharp arrows and forcibly moving her body, trying to open the gate. Who would have thought the palace gate wouldn’t budge in the slightest.
“Sir!” A Qin soldier suddenly called out: “Look at this!”
Everyone turned to look and saw the woman’s two slender arms crossed and inserted into the door bolt, tightly wedged there like a stubborn piece of wood. In the final moment of her life, this frail, thin woman had actually used her bones to create a door lock, delaying their steps to win escape time for that man who had abandoned her.
Even someone like Liu Changyong couldn’t help but be moved. Chaotic sounds came from outside as Yu Yong stepped forward, saying to Qin Zhiyan who still knelt before the Qin King: “Your Highness, we cannot let the murderer of His Majesty escape!”
Qin Zhiyan seemed to come to his senses only then, looking at him with vacant eyes as he asked: “What did you say?”
All the veteran ministers looked sorrowful as they urged: “Your Highness is unwell—don’t grieve too deeply. The most urgent matter now is to capture the Fourth Prince and stabilize the situation in Xianyang.”
Qin Zhiyan seemed to react slightly then, nodding blankly as he said: “Yes, I must avenge Father.” Having said this, he suddenly stood up, drew his sharp sword, and with one stroke severed Bizhu’s arms. The Qin soldiers on both sides exerted force simultaneously, and with a thunderous sound, the great gate opened.
Qin Zhiyan led a crowd of court veterans, striding thunderously out of the great hall into the brilliant noon sunlight, so blindingly white that people couldn’t open their eyes.
Qing Xia stood in place as the surroundings gradually quieted, without the slightest sound. Her eyes stared blankly, as if looking at something, yet seeming to see nothing at all. Cold wind roared through the wide-open palace gate. All the Qin soldiers had gone to pursue Qin Zhiye, but hundreds of troops still guarded the entrance, protecting her from leaving.
The long wind penetrated her frail body. Her steps faltered and she swayed, nearly falling to the ground. The Qin King’s corpse lay there on the ground, ice-cold and covered in blood. She slowly crouched down, extending her finger to gently wipe at his temples. Fine powder was softly brushed away, revealing skin underneath that was smooth and healthy, without the slightest trace of age.
Grand Tutor Zhong slowly emerged from behind the spirit platform, looking at Qing Xia with sorrowful eyes, saying nothing.
Qing Xia’s breathing gradually grew heavy. She slowly stood up and staggered toward the exit. Accidentally stumbling, she fell to the ground with a bang, her forehead striking hard against the threshold.
“Miss!” “Princess!”
The Qin soldiers all called out, seemingly wanting to reach out and help her up. One of them was even the chief strategist at Qin Zhiye’s side—this morning before meeting Chu Li, he had led a large force following Qin Zhiye to kill her.
Their hands were covered in blood, that intense bloody smell making her nearly want to vomit. She shook her head and retreated, as if facing a pack of savage beasts. Her palm suddenly touched a cold, hard object. She turned back and was shocked to see a pale, severed arm, blood vessels grotesque and flesh torn—this was the hand of that woman called Bizhu that Qin Zhiyan had just severed. At this moment it still maintained a clenched fist posture, as if still swearing to guard that life-saving palace gate to the death.
Her eyes suddenly stung, yet she could no longer shed tears.
Her nerves had grown numb from pain. She slowly stood up, staggered out, climbed onto her horse’s back, and rode aimlessly. Who would have thought that after just a few steps, she was back at Zhengyang Square. The empty square was filled with the thick stench of blood, with no one present except Xu Changling’s long-cooled corpse still sitting in his chair, eyes wide with terror, watching two vultures that had landed on his knees, pecking voraciously at his chest and abdomen.
Qing Xia slowly raised her head. The sky seemed to have darkened, and even the wind had become more bitter and cold.
Her chest had a gaping hole through which cold wind whistled—even her heart was cold.
At the end of the long street was the Military Department’s martial training ground, which at this moment echoed with earth-shaking clamor and noise. Qin Zhiye, driven to desperation, stood before the Great Qin army and the people of Xianyang like a cornered wild beast. All his personal guards had perished, leaving only him alone. The escape route Bizhu had opened for him with her life had ultimately been forced to abort under Qin Zhiyan’s precise calculations.
Qin Zhiyan held a long spear, his gaze deep as he looked at Qin Zhiye across from him, saying in a low voice: “Fourth Brother, do you still not repent?”
“Repent?” Qin Zhiye was covered in wounds, blood trickling down, his eyes bloodshot as he said coldly: “I only regret not killing you sooner!”
Qin Zhiyan shook his head and said solemnly: “Fourth Brother, you killed Eldest Brother, killed Ninth Brother, and now even Father has been murdered by you. Isn’t that enough?”
“Not enough!” Qin Zhiye said harshly: “They all deserved to die—this is all what they owed me! And you too—if you don’t kill me today, sooner or later I’ll slice you up piece by piece and swallow you whole!”
“Beast worse than pigs and dogs!” Liu Changyong shouted angrily: “Prince Xuan! Don’t waste words with him. Such a heartless creature should be torn apart by five horses to honor His Majesty’s spirit in heaven!”
“Right! Kill him! Kill him!” Tens of thousands of people and soldiers shouted in unison. Qin Zhiye stood on the high platform, his blood-filled eyes laughing wildly, his voice shrill like the wailing of ghosts.
Qin Zhiyan frowned as he looked at Qin Zhiye, saying: “Fourth Brother, your crimes are monstrous and unforgivable. Considering we were once brothers, take your own life.”
“Take my own life?” Qin Zhiye snorted coldly and suddenly shouted: “If I die, you’re coming with me!” Having said this, he raised his war blade and charged toward Qin Zhiyan.
“Protect Prince Xuan!” “Loose arrows!”
Countless sharp arrows immediately flashed with cold light as they shot forth. Qin Zhiye’s figure raising the war blade suddenly froze. Thudding sounds filled the air as countless streams of blood spurted out, splashing across the high platform of the martial ground. The scene seemed frozen as Qin Zhiye’s body trembled, the long blade instantly dropping from his hand with a clanging crash. Those mountain-like resilient knees struck the ground with a bang as he spat out mouthfuls of fresh blood onto his magnificent robes. The coiled dragon on his chest, stained with blood, looked ferocious as if about to soar into the sky.
His gaze immediately became cloudy as he stared blankly ahead, his fists tightly clenched supporting him on the ground, eyes looking west—toward the direction of the Ancestral Temple.
In the final moment of his life, some scenes hazily flashed through his mind. Walking alone as a child through the empty, desolate imperial palace, those sharp cold glances, those harsh cruel words, those humiliations from brothers and servants, those days worse than those of pigs and dogs. Then came the endless grasslands, with northern barbarians’ mocking abuse, as well as calculating flattery and fawning. How many times, in lonely darkness, had he clenched his fists and told himself that someday he would stand at the very top of the world, that he would ascend that golden, glittering throne and make all those who had looked down on him prostrate at his feet.
But success—in the end there was still a hairsbreadth difference, just one step short, just one step.
The entire world had abandoned him, and darkness was once again about to permanently engulf his life. He knelt on the high platform with disgusted spittle and angry curses below, his heart feeling so empty and desolate. He suddenly remembered many years ago on the endless grasslands, when he was about to embark on the journey back to court, that girl in the bright red riding dress had stood before him with a tender face, saying crisply: “Take me with you. I want to follow you.”
“Following me could cost you your life. Aren’t you afraid?”
“I’m not afraid!”
That clear voice echoed once again in his ears. He seemed to smell again the scent of northern grass, to see the girl’s beautiful face.
I’m not afraid, I’m not afraid—as long as you’re there, I’m not afraid of anything…
With a bang, the man’s body crashed thunderously to the ground, sharp arrows piercing through from his back, flashing with keen cold light. Everyone present cheered in unison. The victor becomes king, the defeated become bandits—in yet another twist of fate, a new leader was rising.
“Your Highness! How should we dispose of his body?” Yu Yong stepped forward and asked respectfully.
Qin Zhiyan sighed heavily and said: “He did render meritorious service to Great Qin after all. Don’t damage his remains—bury him properly. As for the people of Prince Xiang’s mansion, don’t make things difficult for them either. Those rebels who followed Prince Xiang in this rebellion were also forced by his authority. Civil officials will be demoted, military officials will have their salaries docked. Let the matter end here—don’t mention it again in the future.”
Hearing this, Yu Yong knelt on the ground and said loudly: “Your Highness is merciful!”
“Your Highness is merciful!” Tens of thousands of people shouted in unison, their momentum astonishing and earth-shaking. Qin Zhiyan stood among the crowd, his robes fluttering in the wind, his features refined and handsome, ethereal as an exiled immortal, still maintaining that gentle, water-like demeanor. But as Qing Xia looked at him, it was as if her eyes were veiled with gauze—she could no longer see clearly.
Qing Xia sat on her horse, slowly turning the horse’s head and walking step by step toward the distance. The sky gradually darkened as the sun set in the west, the entire sky filled with fire-red flowing clouds. Those intense reds were like desperate, startled souls singing lonely dirges in midair, bleeding tears of heartache from the heart.