The completely black crow turned its head, looking deeply at the great tree.

At the very top of the tree, another crow had somehow appeared.

That crow was slightly smaller, tilting its head, gazing back affectionately.

Is that you, Liang Sunyi?

Standing proudly on high—you look so beautiful, the mother of the nation!

The corners of Yan Sanhe’s mouth lifted slightly upward. Then her gaze slowly swept through the tree full of crows.

Among them, which one was Chu Yanling?

“In the letter Chu Yanling left for Tang Jianxi, at the end were three sentences:

First sentence: I followed Rongyu all my life—no regrets;

Second sentence: I died for him—no regrets;

Third sentence: Three sticks of clear incense, I pray the Bodhisattva bless and protect my master Rongyu with a hundred years of life.”

Thousands of crows’ heads moved in unison, turning to look at one among them.

That crow sat quietly, its sharp beak facing Yan Sanhe, as if in life he had always been like this, quietly standing behind his Rongyu.

“What kind of willingness could make someone say the two words ‘no regrets’ at the moment of death?”

Yan Sanhe smiled through tears.

“Everyone hangs the word ‘loyalty’ on their lips ordinarily, but at critical moments, truly achieving it—precious few.

Chu Yanling achieved it. Left Guard Commander of the Feathered Forest Guard, Zhang Yuanbing, achieved it. Left Functionary Han Ming achieved it. Crown Prince Guard Xiao Ze also achieved it.

And you, and you, and you, and you—all of you…

In this world, where there’s baseness, there’s also the upright integrity that would rather be shattered jade than whole tile;

Where there’s calculation, there’s also the tragic heroic spirit of ‘a man’s heart like iron unto death, testing his hand at mending heaven’s crack’;

Where there’s hypocrisy, there’s also the resolute determination of ‘knowing it cannot be done, yet doing it’;

Where there’s treachery, there’s also the brave integrity of ‘though thousands and millions oppose me, still I go forward.’

Chu Yanling had no regrets. Zhang Yuanbing had no regrets. Han Ming had no regrets. Xiao Ze had no regrets. Each and every one of you—no regrets!”

Yan Sanhe’s gaze slowly swept in a circle before returning to rest on the crow before her eyes.

“Look—so many people willing to die for you, firmly declaring the two words ‘no regrets.’ Ask yourself, in this world, how many people can achieve such a thing?

Zhao Lin, you couldn’t become a good emperor, but you were a good person. Humans should have conscience, benevolence, warmth, hearts harboring compassion.

Those who write the historical records are always those sitting in high positions. Under their brushes, you’re a rebellious traitor and subject. Your resentment also arose from this—this is your true heart demon.

But don’t forget—even if all the world thinks so, there will always be some people who, in their most insignificant ways, argue on your behalf.

Like Lu Shi;

Like Dong Chengfeng;

And some people who would rather remain in this cold Yin Realm, refusing to reincarnate, just to accompany you, to follow you.

Don’t they have more warmth than that cold chair, more ability to warm your heart?

Once fallen into the rivers and lakes, all become people of thin fate. Not everyone can look down upon heaven and earth with pride—among this, there’s fate, there’s fortune, there’s cause and effect.”

Yan Sanhe sighed deeply.

“Zhao Lin, since your cause and effect was determined from the moment of your birth, then reaching the position you’re at today—besides sighing ‘fate,’ what else is there to hate, to resent, to feel unwilling about?

You should be content. You must accept fate. You need to let go!”

The light of dawn seemed to brighten further. The color of the firmament became warm and lovely.

A warm wind blew past, blowing across the crow’s beak, its neck, its small feet… It stubbornly and proudly raised its head, its dark pupils brimming with watery light.

Yes.

Those cold characters in the history books were his true heart demon.

His forty-some years of life, countless experiences, countless difficulties, countless details…

His integrity, his persistence, his filial piety, his kindness…

All of being human—why in the end did it amount to just those shocking few characters?

Why!

Just then, Yan Sanhe’s tone suddenly changed.

“Zhao Ji wasn’t a good person, yet he became a good emperor.”

Fleeting images flashed rapidly through the crow’s pupils.

“Externally, he waged war against the Tatars, recovered Great Qi territory, was decisive in killing—the four seas were pacified. Even at over sixty years of age, he personally led expeditions to the North.

Internally, he practiced frugality, knew how to employ capable people. When floods or droughts occurred, relief came promptly, letting common people have food to eat, clothes to wear, houses to live in.

In that position, you might not have done as well as him.

But he also has his cause and effect. His cause and effect—when he first conceived the thought of seizing that dragon throne—was actually also determined.”

Yan Sanhe sneered lightly, that laugh full of disdain.

“Do you think he sleeps soundly every day? Do you think he truly has no fear? No—he sleeps less soundly than anyone, fears more than anyone.

High buildings face dangerous winds.

He knows his dragon throne was obtained through conspiracy and calculation, so he constantly guards against others using conspiracy and calculation to snatch that throne away.”

“Look—he never trusted the Crown Prince, suppressing him at every turn;

Look—he dotes on the Imperial Grand Grandson, elevating him high and higher;

Look—his most beloved son took up sword and spear and rebelled against him.”

Yan Sanhe’s expression was subtle.

“Zhao Lin, in these words of mine, what have you discerned?”

The crow’s chest rose and fell. After a long while, it slowly blinked once.

Yan Sanhe knew he had understood.

“Yes, this is cause and effect, and moreover, this cause and effect has only just begun.”

The sorrow vanished from her face, tears wiped clean. Taking their place was a trace of coldness.

“Will he, this father, personally kill the Prince of Han, this son? Or will he let the Crown Prince personally kill his own brother?

Does he plan to pass the throne to the Crown Prince he most looks down upon? Or directly transmit it to the Grand Grandson?

If transmitted to the Grand Grandson, what will be the Crown Prince’s fate?

If the Crown Prince succeeds, what kind of father and son will he and the Grand Grandson be?

Between them, will there be estrangement, suspicion, resentment? Will they mutually slaughter each other?”

Yan Sanhe laughed lightly.

“I stand at your endpoint, looking back at your life’s trajectory. I see your destined path and tell you heaven arranged it all long ago.

Then how will heaven arrange for him and his descendants?”

She shook her head.

“My grandfather Yan Xing said that all things in the world have their fixed numbers. What’s gained isn’t necessarily fortune; what’s lost isn’t necessarily misfortune.

Since cause and effect are all determined, then whether grievances are cleared or not, whether vindication comes or not, what do those few shocking characters in the history books matter?”

The crow’s wings suddenly spread wide, like an eagle on the grasslands, spreading wings to soar.

It flew to the blood moon, then suddenly dove down, landing steadily before Yan Sanhe.

Yan Sanhe saw in those pitch-black pupils ten thousand zhang of radiance.

She smiled again. “So what if it’s fate? So what if it’s unjust? What if, treading on thin ice, you couldn’t cross to the far shore—so what?

Some ask: What in this world is most fair? I thought about it—it should be time.

You don’t want to grow up, but you’ll grow up. Don’t want to age, but you’ll age. Whether peddler or porter, emperor or general—all will die.

We extend time infinitely—is there anything eternally unchanging?

Even if you had become emperor, become an enlightened sovereign of a generation—so what?

Where there’s prosperity, there’s decline. Whose dynasty can last generation after generation?

The Great Tang Li Family was so prosperous, yet it was only three or four hundred years before the kingdom changed hands. Who can last a thousand autumns and ten thousand generations? Who can be immortal forever?

Since no one can, view these forty-some years of life as a drama.

In this drama, some people loved but couldn’t have; some people held firm to their hearts; some people separated like swallows; some people stopped at nothing…

In the drama there were good people and bad people;

There was loyalty and treachery;

Sorrow and joy;

Bitterness and sweetness;

Gain and loss;

Now the drama has finished, the curtain should fall.”

Yan Sanhe extended her hand, gently stroking the crow’s feathers.

The crow’s entire body shuddered, eyes widening, looking at Yan Sanhe incredulously.

“Zhao Lin, everything should end.”

She said softly.

The crow’s eyes reddened.

It opened its beak, gazing at Yan Sanhe for a long while. Finally, it slowly lowered its proud head.

Yes, it should end.

He had remained in this cold Yin Realm for a full eighteen years, without joy, without knowing sweetness, never feeling spring breezes, hearing cicadas’ songs, being drenched by autumn rain, viewing winter snow.

Accompanying him—only this blood moon and these crows behind him.

That day, he slit his own throat, slowly falling to the ground, hearing countless cries of grief in his ears.

He felt no pain, only exhaustion to the extreme.

Yet in his heart remained so much hatred, so much resentment, so much grievance and bitterness.

At that moment, a round moon rose overhead.

That moon was so round.

Hanging in the sky, coldly watching this world of inverted black and white.

Just then, from the distance came a great shout: “Come, seize all these rebellious traitor subjects!”

Rebellious traitor subjects?

His entire life reduced to these four characters?

Why?

He closed his eyes. The final tears of this life slowly slid from the corners of his eyes.