“Then let me stay in East Qi. I’ll accomplish opening the sea ban for you, earning gold, jade, pearls, and treasures to fund your great army’s northern expedition.”
“You know I want to launch a northern expedition?” Chu Li frowned and said: “Who told you?”
“Where’s the need for others to tell me?” Qing Xia smiled faintly as she stood up, walked to the doorway, and gazed at the spring scenery outside with its warm earth and flying orioles, slowly saying: “Yan Hui is about to occupy the capital of Mingchuang, and Young General Zhaonan is fighting Great Qin’s Crown Prince Yuan in the east to clear his rear path. Once he succeeds, Xichuan will no longer be underestimated. When the realm is divided into three parts in a tripod formation, if you want to unify the world again, it will become much more difficult. This is a heaven-sent opportunity of a thousand years—would you let it pass? You just pacified East Qi and are eager to return to Chu without waiting for East Qi’s political situation to stabilize, isn’t it precisely to take the opportunity to attack Xichuan from both sides?”
Chu Li was slightly stunned and slowly said: “Qing Xia…”
“Chu Li,” Qing Xia suddenly turned around and said: “What I owe you can never be fully repaid. Just let me do something for you. I cannot lead troops to attack North Qin for you, but I can prepare abundant financial resources for you to take Xichuan. Let that evil nation on the Eastern Sea serve as South Chu’s granary, use their weapons as our weapons, use their warships as our warships. This is all I can do for you.”
Chu Li’s expression froze. He slowly nodded, wanted to say something, but ultimately didn’t speak.
Not knowing how long had passed, the sun gradually set westward. It was already dinnertime, and seeing Chu Li showed no intention of leaving, Qing Xia invited him to dine in the hall. Chu Li agreed, instructing servants to bring the documents he needed to handle that evening, and began conducting official business in the great hall.
Qing Xia went down to the kitchen and personally cooked several delicious dishes. The two dined facing each other in the great hall, just like they once had in the Lanting Hall of South Chu.
“By the way,” Chu Li suddenly looked up and asked: “Are your injuries better?”
“Much better.” Qing Xia nodded in reply.
While eating, Chu Li suddenly handed over a scroll of documents, saying: “I’ve already prepared the decree. From now on, you’ll be the Military and Administrative Governor of the Southeast Province.”
Qing Xia was stunned. She slowly raised her head, looking directly at the man across from her in his ink-green long robe with handsome features. Her shell-white teeth bit her lower lip. After thinking for a long time, she said hoarsely: “Chu Li, do you truly trust me?”
Chu Li smiled bitterly: “I only regret that I didn’t trust early enough.”
Qing Xia’s eyes suddenly reddened. She hurriedly lowered her head. After a long while, she said in a low voice: “Chu Li, thank you.”
This trust was truly too precious.
As the sun set in the west with red light filling the sky, the two smiled at each other. Years of resentment vanished in an instant—time was peaceful, and the past was like wind.
That evening, Chu Li returned to Weiyang Hall. Qing Xia dismissed all her maids, put on a snow-white brocade cloak, and went out. The Imperial Academy hall in the west remained as cold and desolate as before. Night birds occasionally swept across the sky above, their wings flapping as they flew collectively southward. Qing Xia carried a lantern, her snow-white cloak trimmed with a circle of white fur that wrapped around her entire figure, making her appear especially ethereal.
The blue corridor pillars were very sturdy. Qing Xia sat down beneath the railing of the corridor where she had previously encountered Chu Li, extinguished the lantern, and placed it on the ground. Clear, cold moonlight scattered over her body, making her face appear so pale in its reflection. Holding the Southeast Provincial Governor’s token and appointment documents, her heart felt as if an early spring March rain had fallen—ice-cold and pattering, carrying ineffable sorrow.
Suddenly, sharp pain shot through her lower abdomen. She frowned, her face immediately turning white. With brows tightly locked and shell-white teeth biting her lower lip, she endured silently without a word.
After about half an hour, the pain gradually subsided. Qing Xia’s forehead was already covered with large drops of cold sweat. She leaned wearily against the corridor pillar, as exhausted as if she had fought a great battle. Qing Xia’s lips curved in a bitter smile, carrying undisguisable loneliness and desolation. Her face ghastly pale, she slowly sighed.
Today marked her eighth year since arriving here. Life was like a dream—often she couldn’t distinguish whether her former life as a secret agent was a dream, or whether this chaotic journey was like the moon reflected in water or flowers in a mirror. Too many matters weighed upon her layer by layer, making her increasingly unlike her original self. Too many entanglements, too many concerns, too many complications had completely changed her into a different person. She had lost much, yet also gained much.
Zhiyan, if possible, I truly want to see you again. If you’re truly no longer in this world, would you come to take me away someday, taking me to leave together? Zhiyan, I miss you so much, so much I want to find you, but I don’t know where to look. The world is terrifyingly vast while I am pitifully small. Only now do I truly understand how small one person’s strength is—being powerless is truly such agony.
The pale woman slowly raised her head. Dimly, she seemed to see again that man in his upright blue shirt, but before she could reach out her hand, his figure immediately vanished like smoke, transforming into that proud emperor in black robes, his eyes like a pitch-black sea—deep and dim, making it impossible for anyone to glimpse what lay within.
Zhuang Qing Xia, if you were still alive, you would surely forgive him. He lives too difficultly, never having a single truly happy day. Perhaps the most carefree period of his life was when he played with you. You were both small then, not understanding the world’s hardships. You resented him for ignoring you, were angry that he handed you over to others, yet didn’t know that with his abilities then, that was already the greatest protection he could give you.
If one cannot do it oneself, find someone capable to do it. That’s how he thought then, and how Qin Zhiyan thought later.
Although neither of them ever asked the person involved what she wanted. When they were powerless, they stubbornly decided what was best, not knowing that sometimes that person might not want to be excluded. Sharing wealth and honor is one kind of happiness—but isn’t sharing hardships also a kind of experience?
The night wind blew, lifting Qing Xia’s full head of black hair. Her snow-white long robe appeared so graceful and elegant, like a snow-white bird about to take flight.
This mortal world was truly too hard. If there were a next life, even as flowers and grass, she wouldn’t want to be human again. Let her be an orchid growing in a secluded valley, swaying with the wind, without worries or cares.
“May my beauty be like red flowers, daily appreciated by my lord.”
And at that time, whoever came to appreciate it would be none of her concern, nor would she need to make blood-dripping choices anymore.
Chu Li, don’t blame Zhuang Qing Xia for being heartless. She had long since lost the chance to choose, long since become unworthy of you, long since lost the qualification to accept your favor, and long since lost such fortune.
Let me do one more thing for you, and then I can seek him without any lingering attachments.
Those words—throughout my entire life, there will never come a day when I speak them aloud. I will always remember that man in Penglai Valley who stood among the hundred herbs and draped a coat over me, thus warming my entire lifetime.
The moonlight was desolate and misty, light clouds like fog. The woman smiled faintly with gentle features, lightly parting her lips to say slowly: “Chu Li, I hope everything goes well for you, that you achieve what’s in your heart, be happy and joyful, with no more sorrows…”
In the Imperial Academy hall, the man in ink-green robes stood quietly like a lifeless stone.
The next day, Qian’an Hall was packed with people. The Chu Emperor held morning court with all officials paying homage. Ministers from both South Chu and East Qi stood in left and right columns, clearly distinct with undercurrents surging.
Chu Li wore a black dragon-embroidered brocade robe with gold thread. His face was like polished jade, his eyes like bright stars, exuding incomparable imperial aura. With composed spirit and concentrated energy, he slowly sat upon the throne. Two rows of ministers knelt and shouted “Long live our king!” The momentum reached throughout Qian’an Hall, making the entire Ronghua Palace tremble.
All matters large and small were reported: southern rebellions and disturbances, eastern typhoons and floods, central droughts and locust disasters, coastal Japanese pirate raids—affairs were incredibly complex. East Qi had been at war for five years, devastated everywhere with everything needing rebuilding. Chu Li sat steadily on the throne, discussing various countermeasures with his ministers. His handling was prudent, already showing the demeanor of a wise ruler.
However, regardless of what urgent state affairs were reported, the various ministers in court were somewhat absent-minded. Because the day after tomorrow was when the Chu Emperor would return to the capital. Tomorrow would be military inspection with no court session. Therefore, the appointment of the Southeast Provincial Governor would be announced in today’s court session.
Whether they were South Chu ministers who had followed Chu Li all the way to victory with great merit, or former East Qi officials who knew East Qi inside and out, all eyed this lucrative position greedily. Various factions had held secret meetings all night, all saving their energy for today’s court session.
After half a day of discussion, most matters were finally handled. Because this was the last court session, Chu Li extended the time, granted seats to elderly ministers, and even bestowed porridge.
When the emperor grants food, who dares refuse? Even if it was just plain porridge and simple dishes, they ate as if it were the finest delicacies, finishing every drop.
After eating, East Qi elder Grand Marshal Dongfang Li coughed lightly. The white-haired old man’s eyes narrowed slightly, showing no emotion. Behind him, former East Qi officials—Ministry of Rites Vice Director Yu Xian, Ministry of Works Supervisor Peng Yunkun, and Ministry of Personnel Vice Minister Lu Xiao—exchanged glances and stepped forward together, saying: “Ministers Yu Xian, Peng Yunkun, and Lu Xiao have memorials to present.”
Chu Li’s voice was low and emotionless as he said: “Speak.”
Yu Xian was about forty years old, tall and upright with clear-cut features and a thin beard. His family had been officials for three generations, deeply understanding court politics, which enabled him to accurately read the situation when South Chu’s great army pressed at the borders, following the surrendering Dongfang Li and leaping from a fourth-rank censorate official to a third-rank Ministry of Rites Vice Director. He wore blue bird official robes and a Chu crown—completely in South Chu attire. His voice clear and resonant, he said loudly: “Reporting to Your Majesty, a nation cannot go a day without a ruler, a family cannot go a day without a master. Your Majesty will soon depart to return to the capital. The position of Southeast Governor truly should not remain vacant. This minister boldly recommends Lord Dongfang.”