The sun descended slowly in the west, as though it were reluctant to bid farewell to this world — it must love this world dearly, for every day it lingers in parting.

Some say that the moon does not love this world at all — it is always perfunctory.

Every clear day, you can see the sun appear on time; but on an equally clear night, you may not necessarily see the moon rise.

Sometimes you see it, and think it has only just risen, yet by the second half of the night it has already vanished.

And yet poets lavish their finest words upon the moon — why is that?

Because you can look directly at the moon, but you cannot look directly at the sun.

Han Feibao retreated with the scattered remnants of a defeated army — no more than ten thousand men left. Tang Pidi led his troops in pursuit, and Li Chi wanted to go as well, but Tang Pidi said: you should go to Daxing City.

And so, the radiance of Ning Wang’s arrival at Daxing City was something many could not bear to look at directly.

That radiance — was the edge of his blades.

One by one, companies of Ning soldiers that looked ferociously powerful marched into Daxing City, and the watching citizens did not dare approach, only lurking in the distance to steal glances.

Once the vanguard had entered the city, Li Chi arrived before the gates of Daxing City — and as the former master of this great city, Chu Emperor Yang Jing stood outside the gates to receive him.

The moment Yang Jing saw Li Chi, he felt no surprise at all, for he had long since guessed it: the Xiahou Zhuo who had come earlier was Ning Wang himself.

Yang Jing held the imperial jade seal of Great Chu in his hands, and when he saw Ning Wang arrive on horseback, he led the handful of remaining civil and military officials in lifting their robes and kneeling.

Li Chi leapt down from his horse and helped Yang Jing to his feet: “There is no need for this.”

Yang Jing said: “There is every need.”

Li Chi said: “There are many things that should have been done — and you never did any of them. To do what should be done only at this moment seems rather unnecessary.”

The words were slightly sharp, and Yang Jing smiled inwardly with bitterness, for he knew that Li Chi had been waiting to say these things to his face for a long time.

But at the time Li Chi was still Xiahou Zhuo, and so even though both sides clearly knew each other’s identities, certain things could not be said openly.

Li Chi had wanted to say this to Yang Jing long, long ago — because if Yang Jing had done what he should have done, Great Chu would likely not have come to this.

Yang Jing had always thought of himself as a tragic figure, and many others also saw him that way — not that he was incapable, only that he lacked the power to reverse the tide.

In truth, he had that power.

He simply never did what he should have done.

“Ning Wang will come to understand in time — that sitting in that seat, many things that should be done will become things that cannot be done.”

Yang Jing pushed back, though his voice lacked conviction.

Li Chi said: “Then I’ll try.”

In that moment, those three words were Li Chi’s final declaration of war against everything that stood in the way of his heart’s dream.

“Does Ning Wang wish to go to Shiyuan Palace?”

Yang Jing asked, and Li Chi shook his head: “I’d like to go up on the city wall and look.”

And so a great crowd of people followed behind Li Chi, rushing up onto the city wall — and those who followed Li Chi likely each carried a different feeling in their hearts.

Xiahou Zhuo was also among those behind Li Chi. He deliberately looked at Yang Jing a few extra times, then decided there was nothing worth concerning himself with.

He looked at Yang Jing a few extra times not because of the blood tie between them, but because he wanted to see whether this man’s remaining presence would pose any threat to Li Chi.

Yang Jing was not his brother. Li Chi was.

Standing on the city wall, Li Chi looked out into the distance, where his great general was leading the Ning army in pursuit of the remaining Yongzhou forces.

Han Feibao’s Geling Army was indeed formidable — they had apparently torn open a gap on the flank and broken through.

But this only meant that Han Feibao would not die today; it did not mean he would ever find another such reprieve.

Think about it carefully — why do the moments of miraculous escape in storytellers’ tales always astonish the listeners?

Because they are so rare.

“Tantai.”

Li Chi called out softly.

Tantai Yajing bowed: “Your servant is here.”

Li Chi said: “Dispatch troops to properly settle all the fallen and wounded soldiers. The rest of the troops, once they enter Daxing City, are to make camp and maintain strict military discipline. They may move freely within the city, but they must not bully anyone — the Ning army must carry itself like the Ning army.”

“Yes!”

Li Chi continued: “All Chu army soldiers who participated in this battle — issue them new uniforms as quickly as possible, and distribute the promised pay without delay.”

“Yes!”

Tantai Yajing saluted and turned to go make the arrangements.

Li Chi looked back at Yu Jiuling: “Ninth Sister, bring it to me.”

Yu Jiuling stepped forward, arms outstretched, holding a neatly folded, pristine Ning army battle banner.

Yang Jing’s heart tightened. He knew this was all something that was bound to happen — yet seeing it occur before his own eyes, his heart was overwhelmed with sorrow.

He had thought he had made peace with it. After all, when he had just handed over the imperial jade seal with his own hands, he had not felt much grief at all.

Yet now, watching the Ning banner about to replace the Chu banner, his heart ached so terribly it felt like suffocation.

Li Chi took that blazing crimson battle banner and strode toward the tall flagpole on the city wall.

His attendants went forward to lower the Chu banner — they did not simply cast it aside, but folded it neatly and handed it to Jin Jieyin, the Chu general standing not far away.

Li Chi raised the Ning army’s battle banner with his own hands above Daxing City, and moments later, a thunderous roar of cheers erupted through the entire city.

After the cheers came the sound of thunder.

Whether the Ning soldiers already standing guard on the walls or the Ning troops marching through the streets below, all of them stood at attention, ramrod straight.

They drew their long blades, and struck the flat of their blades against their chest armor.

That sound was more awe-inspiring than the thunder of heaven itself, and it rang and echoed through Daxing City for a long, long time.

On this day, at this moment, many of the citizens within Daxing City would perhaps never forget it for years to come.

They looked at those soldiers striking their chest armor, and what they seemed to see was a range of mountains, a line of ridgelines, a host of giants.

Xiahou Zhuo looked up at that battle banner, and suddenly recalled something from long, long ago — when he had been in Jizhou City, teaching Li Chi to recognize the emblems of the great clans.

He had told Li Chi: every great clan has its own emblem, and many clans place their family name within the emblem, so that it is easy for others to remember.

He had asked Li Chi if he envied them, and Li Chi had shaken his head and said: one day I will write my wife’s name on my banner.

Now not only was the name upon the banner — that banner would fly across all thirteen provinces.

Many people in the city had gathered spontaneously before the gates of Shiyuan Palace to wait. They knew that as the new master of this central plain capital, he would surely enter the imperial palace.

Yet they were wrong — even when night fell, they had not seen Li Chi.

Li Chi did not like that palace. Not just the palace — he did not like this Daxing City at all.

Even though after Yang Jing’s enthronement, in hopes of a good omen, the city had been renamed Ziyu City.

But the name Ziyu City had not been accepted by the common people, nor had it brought any meaningful change.

Li Chi still moved into Yibin Garden, and Yang Jing could no longer live in the palace — Li Chi’s even without entering, Yang Jing’s even without leaving.

Having packed his belongings, Yang Jing temporarily moved into Yu Wenli’s home, and shut himself inside the study for a long time without coming out.

No one knew that he had tied a sash to a roof beam, and three times stood on a stool to hang himself — and three times lacked the courage to kick the stool away.

At this same moment, in another place, the civil officials under Ning Wang were deliberating together.

As the leader of the civil officials, the Mister Yan of absolute importance — and the High Dean of equally absolute influence — were both present.

“Mister Yan.”

One among them said: “We should quickly begin arranging for my lord to ascend the throne and proclaim himself Emperor — this matter is already the most pressing priority, and cannot be delayed further.”

Another said: “Of course this is the foremost matter — this is the capital city! The capital has already been taken.”

Mister Yan glanced at the man. The one who had spoken was trembling with excitement even at the lips.

Mister Yan reminded them gently: “It is Chu’s capital city.”

At this time, few yet knew that Li Chi did not wish to make the capital at Daxing City.

Mister Yan also naturally understood what these officials were thinking in their hearts. They had all worked and sacrificed for so long, and were now just one step away — they too would all be legitimate and proper. And at this moment, whoever argued most vigorously for Ning Wang to ascend the throne would naturally be seen as having rendered the greater merit.

“My lord’s intention is to wait until all the southern provinces are fully pacified before discussing enthronement and the establishment of the capital.”

Mister Yan explained: “My lord actually told me this quite some time ago, but I forgot — that was my oversight.”

At these words, everyone looked at one another.

“Mister Yan, the Chu Emperor’s abdication follows the will of Heaven and the will of the people; making the capital at Daxing City also follows the will of Heaven and the will of the people.”

One official was puzzled: “Daxing City is an ancient capital of hundreds of years — it must not be lightly abandoned.”

Mister Yan said: “We must still follow my lord’s wishes. I will convey everyone’s sentiments to my lord shortly.”

At this point someone raised another matter entirely.

“And what is to be done with Yang Jing?”

At that one sentence, everyone fell silent.

Mister Yan said: “My lord’s intention is to grant Yang Jing a noble title and an estate.”

The one who had spoken shook his head: “On the surface, yes — and that should be loudly proclaimed. But if Yang Jing does not die… there will surely be trouble to come.”

This was not the thought of one or two people — more than half of those present felt that Yang Jing could not be allowed to live.

“Gentlemen.”

Mister Yan rose to his feet: “Let us speak no more of this matter. Let me remind you all once again — there are still several provinces in the south yet to be pacified. At this time, do not let yourselves disturb the greater situation.”

Having said that, he clasped his hands in salute: “The High Dean and I still need to go to Yibin Garden to see my lord. Everyone, please return and rest.”

The two of them took their leave and departed. Once outside and in their carriage, the High Dean could not help but let out a long breath.

“I had thought it would be the military generals who would be in the most of a rush — I did not expect you to have predicted it correctly.”

Mister Yan smiled: “Human nature.”

The High Dean felt a pang of regret.

He looked out the window at the streets — there were no lantern lights, this was not the Daxing City he had once known, and it made him feel a stranger to it, made him feel displeased.

“I was actually going to argue strongly for Li Chi to make the capital here at Daxing.”

The High Dean shook his head: “Looking at things now, the saying ‘nothing new can be built without first breaking the old down’ — those words are truly right.”

He drew the carriage window shut, as though the night view only made the unease in his heart grow heavier.

After a long silence, the High Dean suddenly murmured to himself: “Why is it that they cannot tolerate Yang Jing living?”

Mister Yan sat in thought for a moment, then shook his head: “I cannot work that out either.”

The High Dean said: “You too are a man of letters.”

Mister Yan: “And I was taught by you, Dean.”

The two men looked at each other, and both smiled.

“Shall we go to Yibin Garden?”

Mister Yan asked.

The High Dean said: “Why go there and add to his vexation with all these trivial matters? Let us find a place to have a drink — it is rare to be without those two old fellows.”

Mister Yan nodded: “Then let’s have a drink.”

—