For three consecutive days, the Emperor did not make an appearance.
During these three days, there were no court sessions, no discussions of affairs, and no official saw the Emperor’s face. The memorials that had been submitted also remained without response for a long time.
Court officials only remembered that the Emperor was diligent and never took a break, even when ill. Such a situation was unprecedented since his ascension to the throne. When asking Li Yuangui, he only said that His Majesty had unfortunately fallen ill the night before, felt unwell, and was therefore resting his body. The first day was tolerable, but by the second day, officials began discussing privately. By the third day, rumors abounded, and someone of high rank who frequently entered the imperial study was elected to inquire about the Emperor’s health. After waiting outside for a long time, Li Yuangui finally emerged and addressed the concerned officials, ultimately conveying the Emperor’s verbal edict that morning court would resume the next day. Only then did everyone feel relieved.
Li Yuangui watched the officials’ departing figures, then turned and entered the sleeping palace.
The sleeping palace was empty, all attendants having been cleared out. The layered curtains hung low, and even in broad daylight, the interior was very dim.
Li Yuangui walked lightly to the depths of the sleeping palace, approaching the dragon bed with its hanging curtains. He bowed and, through the curtains, carefully said: “Your Majesty, they have all left!”
There was no sound from behind the curtains.
Li Yuangui waited for a moment, then finally reached out and gently lifted the curtain.
Though it was only early October, at midday, wearing a lined robe and walking a few steps in the sun could sometimes make one feel hot enough to sweat. But at this moment, the Emperor was wrapped from head to body in a large quilt, sitting on the bed with only his face exposed. His eyes stared ahead, motionless, as if in a trance.
In the dim light inside the curtains, his eyes appeared as dark holes, his expression somewhat frightening.
Li Yuangui spoke again: “Your Majesty, the officials have all left. Your Majesty must attend morning court tomorrow. Let me call for an imperial physician to prescribe something to regulate your qi…”
“I am not ill. I’ve survived several decades, and this small matter won’t kill me—tell me, what has he been doing in prison these past few days?”
“Lord Pei hasn’t done anything—” Li Yuangui said quietly.
The Emperor snorted twice: “I understand! He remains unmoved, and all my heartfelt efforts that night were completely wasted!”
He slowly turned his head, his voice muffled: “I bared my heart and soul, hoping he would be loyal to me, that father and son would be of one mind, yet he treats me this way, showing no regard for my face! I am the Emperor, and I have my dignity! Li Yuangui, tell me, how should I punish him for his crimes?”
Tears suddenly fell from Li Yuangui’s eyes. He quickly wiped them with his sleeve and knelt: “Your Majesty, your health is paramount. Please don’t think yourself ill. As for Lord Pei, give him some more time. The nature of father and son, the call of blood—gradually he will understand Your Majesty’s earnest intentions.”
The Emperor seemed not to hear. After a while, he laughed coldly: “My earnest intentions, he probably sees as worthless. Fine, for her sake, I will give him one more chance. If he remains obstinate, even at the risk of being blamed by her, I will no longer recognize this son!”
Li Yuangui was startled: “Your Majesty wishes to…”
“I will go review the memorials first!”
The Emperor suddenly threw off the large quilt he had been wrapped in all day, turned, and descended from the couch. With disheveled hair, wearing only a white inner garment, and without shoes, his bare feet treading on the cold, smooth palace floor, he strode forward with billowing sleeves.
In his youth, he had been spirited, with a handsome appearance. Now aged, though his temperament had greatly changed, becoming gloomy, at this moment without dragon robes and unkempt, his shoulders still stood as if supporting mountains. From behind, he appeared to have gained a carefree, unrestrained quality, like someone from beyond the civilized world.
Li Yuangui was startled, then exclaimed, picking up the shoes from the ground and hurriedly following: “Your Majesty, mind the cold on your feet. Let me help you with your shoes…”
…
At midnight, with a dark moon and high winds, the lamp burned low in the Western Garden’s secret chamber where Pei You’an was detained. Pei You’an lay on his side in a corner on a straw mat spread on the ground.
Gradually, footsteps approached from outside the chamber, growing closer and finally stopping at the prison door. Accompanied by the sound of unlocking, someone crossed the threshold and stood on the ground.
Pei You’an opened his eyes, slowly turned his head, glanced once, then rose, smoothed his clothes, and knelt, paying respects to the figure before him.
Half of Xiao Lie’s face was illuminated by the dim candlelight, seemingly coated with a thin layer of light, while the other half was hidden in the shadowy side where the candlelight couldn’t reach. One eye bright, one eye dark, his gaze profound.
“You’an, from when you were sixteen until now, you have been by my side for nearly ten years. During these ten years, you have shared my worries and solved my problems, you have been with me day and night. Now that you know I am your father, do you truly not have the slightest filial affection for me?”
Xiao Lie asked, his voice deep.
Pei You’an replied: “In response to Your Majesty, this guilty subject’s life was saved by Your Majesty back then. These years, everything this guilty subject has done for Your Majesty has been both to repay that kindness and out of a subject’s duty. Your Majesty is the Emperor of all people under heaven, and also the parent of all people under heaven. To inspire filial affection in all people is the way of a sovereign, and does not dishonor the twenty years of hardship and preparation during your time in Wuding.”
Xiao Lie’s eye twitched, and he took a deep breath: “Very well, since you speak of ruler and subject, I will, in my capacity as ruler, give you one last chance.”
“I ask you, regarding the matter of the young emperor, do you still have nothing to say?”
Pei You’an was silent for a moment, then said: “In response to Your Majesty, this guilty subject has nothing to say.”
Xiao Lie’s breathing became coarse again, his hands clenched, the blue veins on the back of his hands slowly swelling, like blue worms writhing beneath the skin.
“Do you truly not fear death?”
“Your subject fears it. But thunder, rain, and dew are all the grace of Heaven.”
Xiao Lie’s eyes bulged as he pointed straight at Pei You’an kneeling on the ground, his voice elongated and distorted: “Without ruler, without father, neither loyal nor filial! I cannot tolerate such a treasonous person here! I brought you from Suyab City back then, and now you will return there! From this point on, we are even, owing each other nothing!”
Having said this, he turned abruptly, his robe swinging as he strode rapidly out. Amid the sound of his footsteps, his figure gradually disappeared at the end of the corridor.
Pei You’an remained kneeling upright, his face turning pale, his back slowly curving downward until his forehead touched the cold earth, his body motionless.
He suddenly felt a sweetness in his throat, then slowly straightened up, swallowing back that surge of dark red-clotted blood that had been stagnating in his chest for days. He then sat back on the straw mat and closed his eyes.
…
Several days later, the entire Great Wei court was completely overturned by a sudden rumor that had been spreading wildly in private. Everyone was distracted from state affairs, and even during court sessions, they secretly observed the Emperor’s countenance, trying to find some clues.
After those three perplexing days of court suspension, the Emperor had now returned to his usual self—diligent in court, questioning officials after dismissal, familiar with every detail great and small. If any official’s response was inappropriate, he would criticize and demand correction, true to his style. Officials were treading on thin ice, responding with utmost caution.
No one dared believe that the secretly circulating rumor was true.
Several days earlier, at dawn, someone had seen a man being escorted by two old soldiers, leaving the north gate of the imperial city.
Many people in the capital recognized Pei You’an. It was said that the man’s appearance closely resembled Pei You’an’s, but that day he was no longer dressed in official robes, instead wearing plain blue clothes. After leaving the city gate, he headed north.
Then, someone confirmed that indeed, Pei You’an had not yet assumed his duties in Jingxiang. And so, the rumor spread.
It was said that when Pei You’an was on his way to take up his post in the southwest, for some unknown reason, he abandoned his duties, defied orders, and angered the Emperor. The Emperor, furious, had stripped him of his official position and sent him to the north as punishment.
As for the inside story and why the Emperor hadn’t made it public, opinions varied. That day, Liu Jiushao and the Marquis of An’yuan jointly sought an imperial audience, arguing that as Pei You’an was an important court official if he truly had committed a crime, there should be a joint investigation by the Three Judicial Offices. They asked the Emperor to verify the rumor. Unexpectedly, the Emperor flew into a rage, rebuked the two on the spot, and fined them three months’ salary. From then on, the entire court fell silent, and no one dared discuss it further. The three words “Pei You’an” became unspeakable.
On this autumn morning, as the east had just begun to show a streak of dawn’s whiteness, remnant willows drooped their threads along the road, and cold reeds drifted their catkins. Pei You’an, in the company of old soldiers, continued on his journey.
If luck was good, after walking like this for a few more days, they might encounter the military supply convoy heading north.
As they gradually approached the bridge pavilion ahead, the rumbling sound of an approaching carriage suddenly came from behind. It drew near—a small cart covered with blue felt. After stopping, a woman climbed out, dressed simply, carrying a bundle on her arm, calling for him to wait.
“Sir, a young miss is chasing after you!” one of the old soldiers said.
Pei You’an stopped, slowly turning his head.
Chi Hanzhen caught up, stopped, gripping the bundle in her hands tightly, her eyes fixed on him, breathing slightly heavily.
The old soldiers glanced at each other and then stepped aside.
“Are you well?” Pei You’an nodded slightly to her, as gentle and courteous as ever.
Chi Hanzhen’s breathing gradually steadied. Looking at his emaciated face, tears gradually welled up in her eyes.
“Lord Pei, I heard your news and have settled my younger brother. The frontier is harsh and cold. Please allow me to accompany you. I have no other thoughts, only wishing to stay by Lord Pei’s side to serve, even as a slave or servant. Then this life would be without regret.”
Pei You’an’s brows relaxed, and he smiled slightly: “Your kindness, I appreciate. But I am a criminal, this is banishment, and His Majesty has ordered that even family members are not allowed to accompany me. If you were to come along privately, the punishment would be even more severe. Please go back.”
He turned around.
“Lord Pei—”
Chi Hanzhen took a few more steps forward.
“The Buddhist scriptures say, ‘Of the three thousand weak waters, one only needs to take a dipper to drink.’ In this life of mine, I had my wife accompany me for two years, which was my fortune, and I have no regrets. Please go back!”
Pei You’an did not look back, striding forward.
Chi Hanzhen remained where she was, steadily gazing at the blue figure ahead.
That figure was straight as bamboo, as pine. The morning breeze brushed his clothes as he strode forward, gradually disappearing at the end of the road.