Time flew like an arrow, with sunrise and sunset continuing as they always had.

Flowers bloomed and withered through several cycles. Even the moon has its phases of brightness and darkness—how much more so with human affairs?

Take, for example, the increasingly declining Shen family and the increasingly neglected Empress. Like an elderly woman struggling in her final years.

Princess Wanyu had died of illness on her way to her political marriage. Empress Shen never recovered from the blow. Though she still maintained her dignity and grace, a closer look revealed a faint deathly aura in her eyes. That faint aura only flickered with a hint of light when she looked at the Crown Prince, like embers in ashes, seemingly about to extinguish.

A beautiful woman in palace attire smiled at the man in blue robes before her and said, “Imperial Advisor, obtaining a drop of blood from the Empress’s fingertip shouldn’t be difficult for you, right?”

Pei Lang looked at the woman before him. She was as alluring as a cat in the night, clever and beautiful. Otherwise, that high and mighty Emperor, who always prioritized his interests, wouldn’t have cherished her in his palm.

As a woman, she was undoubtedly seductive, holding a man’s heart in her palm. As someone wielding power, she also excelled.

She advanced by retreating, never actively mentioning status or demanding gold and silver, yet making people willingly offer things to her. Not only that, but she also seized what belonged to others. She manipulated others to fight her battles, relying on the Emperor’s heart and her brother’s support, quietly and gradually obtaining what she desired.

Seemingly charming like a flower, yet with a heart of venomous poison. That young princess, barely in her teens, wasn’t she driven to her end by this very woman?

In comparison, the mistress of the six palaces was no match for this woman’s viciousness. Perhaps coming from the Shen family of loyal generals, no matter how her personality changed, there remained a trace of kindness in her bones.

But it was this kindness that destined her to always fall short in tactics compared to the other.

Seeing him lost in thought, Madam Mei spoke again, “Imperial Advisor?”

Pei Lang came back to his senses and, after some thought, asked, “What does Noble Consort want with the Empress’s fingertip blood?”

“You need not know what it’s for,” Madam Mei smiled like a flower. Even though she was now a Noble Consort, she was still often referred to by her initial title. Madam Mei—just hearing it evoked an image of overwhelming charm and allure, making one forget that in the deep palace, even the most beautiful flowers carried thorns.

She said, “Imperial Advisor can see very clearly what the Empress’s situation is now.” She pointed to a vine growing between two trees outside the window and smiled, “When this vine first sprouted, it was between two trees. It didn’t need to choose anything and could live quite well casually. But as it grew taller, the winds and rains became stronger, and it needed to find a place to climb. One tree on the left, one tree on the right, but it can only choose one tree to climb.”

“These two trees occupy the same patch of land, competing for the same soil. There’s only so much land, and one tree will be cut down.”

“This vine must choose carefully. If it climbs the tree that’s going to be cut down, it will be uprooted along with it.” Madam Mei looked at Pei Lang with a smile, “Imperial Advisor, which tree do you think the vine should choose?”

Pei Lang stared at the two trees outside for a while, then turned his head after a moment and said, “I understand.”

Madam Mei smiled with satisfaction.

After Pei Lang left, a palace maid came from behind to pour her tea, softly saying, “Your Highness, will the Imperial Advisor go get the Empress’s fingertip blood? The Imperial Advisor and the Empress seem to have a decent relationship.”

In terms of friendship, Pei Lang had known Shen Miao for much longer than he had known Madam Mei.

“The Imperial Advisor is a smart man,” Madam Mei took a sip of tea and smiled, “Otherwise, he wouldn’t have stood by and watched when the Princess was sent for the political marriage. Moreover… he has unspeakable thoughts in his heart. Being such a principled and rational person who doesn’t allow himself the slightest deviation, he would naturally want to cut off the roots completely. I’m helping him, and he should be grateful to accept.”

The palace maid nodded as if understanding but not really, then said, “But is it true what that monk said, that he could borrow the Empress’s fate for Your Highness?”

“Whether it’s true or not, I will secure the position of mistress of the six palaces,” Madam Mei’s eyes flashed with cruelty. “It’s just fingertip blood, taking her luck for me. When my son secures the throne of Ming Qi, I will be merciful enough to burn paper money for the three of them.”

The palace maid murmured in assent, not daring to speak further.

Shen Miao’s illness had worsened.

Fu Ming had just visited her and spent some time talking with her. Shen Miao wanted to find someone to ask about the recent situation in the Shen household. Just as she was leaving the courtyard, she saw Pei Lang.

Pei Lang greeted her, but Shen Miao was very cold.

Pei Lang’s indifference during Princess Wanyu’s political marriage was heartbreaking. Despite their years of friendship, despite Wanyu having once called him “teacher,” her hatred for Fu Xiuyi had naturally transferred to a loathing for Pei Lang. She didn’t even want to look at Pei Lang one more time.

“I heard the Empress has fallen ill,” Pei Lang presented a box, “This… might help with Your Majesty’s cough.”

Shen Miao glanced at him, opened the box, and found a medicinal herb that seemed strangely familiar. As she took it out for a closer look, her fingertip suddenly hurt. Looking again, she realized she had been pricked by a thorn on the herb. Blood dripped from her fingertip.

Bailu gasped and was about to bandage it for her. Pei Lang, however, stared fixedly at her fingertip, almost woodenly saying, “This is Red Sleeve grass, useful for coughs.”

Shen Miao laughed instead. She tossed the herb back into the box, closed it, and returned it to Pei Lang, coldly saying, “No need. I once had a plant like this, but it withered. And the plant I kept didn’t have thorns.” Her words carried hidden meaning, “If you don’t want to give a gift, then don’t. Giving a gift with thorns only invites disgust. I cannot accept the Imperial Advisor’s things. Please take it back.” With that, she turned and left without another glance at Pei Lang.

Pei Lang tightly gripped the box in his hand, his gaze complex as he stared at Shen Miao’s retreating figure. Her health was getting worse; she had to stop and rest after just a few steps.

But… Pei Lang looked at the box. People always have to make choices. Even though he entered the court with clean hands and an upright character, how many people in the court remain clean and pure? The higher one sits, the more one is bound by circumstances. He was helpless; he had no choice.

The pros and cons were laid out. Which tree would be cut down, which tree would dominate the entire land—the outcome was obvious.

He still had his own family to protect, so friendship or hidden feelings could be set aside. Whatever Madam Mei wanted the fingertip blood for, it certainly wasn’t anything good. He was aiding a villain, adding frost to snow.

He turned and walked in the other direction.

When paths differ, people cannot work together. He could do nothing; he could only… stand by and watch as this tree, which had grown alongside him in the deep palace, fell into the mud.

…

That great fire burned for three days and three nights.

Within the entire palace, only the Cold Palace was burned to ashes. The mournful emotions, the bloody accusations, the curses before death, the profound despair—all dissipated with the fire. What remained were only the shocking remnants of ashes and rumors for people to discuss.

Ming Qi’s Empress Shen had perished.

After the Shen family was executed for treason, after the Crown Prince was deposed and committed suicide, after Madam Mei was made the new Empress and Fu Sheng became the new Crown Prince, a fire suddenly erupted in the lonely Cold Palace at night, burning the deposed Empress Shen to ashes.

It was truly a lamentable incident. The Emperor of Ming Qi was merciful, remembering the past kindness between husband and wife. Despite the Shen family’s disloyalty, he did not make the Empress share their fate, sparing her life and merely sending her to the Cold Palace. Yet, unfortunately, this woman was not blessed with good fortune and still died in a fire.

History is written by the victors, and the inner palace is no different.

Once the dynasty changed, all traces of Empress Shen’s existence were thoroughly erased. She left no possessions; everything was destroyed in that fire. There was no one left from the main branch of the Shen family—truly a conclusion of lost children and perished clan.

The new Crown Prince’s mother, Empress Li, changed from her former gentle and charming nature to become somewhat harsh. She single-mindedly supported her brother, keeping Fu Xiuyi firmly in line. The court gradually showed signs of being controlled by her.

It seemed like the in-laws were seizing power.

Some court officials vaguely sensed something was wrong and wanted to secretly warn the Emperor, but before they could act, they were either demoted or exiled for inexplicable reasons.

Pei Lang coldly observed everything, feeling quite weary in his heart.

In less than half a year after Shen Miao’s death, Ming Qi had almost turned upside down. He hadn’t been wrong; Madam Mei and her brother were indeed skillful. It was hard to say whether the throne of Ming Qi would eventually fall into Madam Mei’s hands. He was loyal to Fu Xiuyi and should have warned him, but after several fruitless attempts, he stopped trying, even secretly thinking that Fu Xiuyi deserved it.

People’s hearts are most susceptible to change. A wise ruler can become a foolish one, and a loyal minister can develop different intentions.

Every night when Pei Lang went to sleep, he was startled awake by a pair of eyes in his dreams. Those clear black and white eyes had no tears, yet they made his heart heavier than if they had been crying.

Those were Shen Miao’s eyes.

Pei Lang had once thought that what he did was right. He had followed the trend, avoiding harm and seeking benefit. This was instinct, and also the best choice. But as time passed, he could no longer deceive himself.

How was it simply following the trend? He didn’t want Shen Miao to die like that.

When did he start developing different feelings for Shen Miao? Pei Lang himself didn’t know. He was her teacher at Guangwen Hall, watching Shen Miao transform from an arrogant, naive young lady determined to marry Fu Xiuyi, to entering the Prince’s mansion, learning things she didn’t like for Fu Xiuyi’s sake, becoming the Prince’s consort, then Empress, and finally a deposed Empress.

She was somewhat foolish, not particularly clever, slow to learn, but possessed a frightening stubbornness and an excess of kindness in the inner palace. Her willingness to sacrifice for someone made Pei Lang sometimes find Shen Miao ridiculous, but other times envy Fu Xiuyi.

Later on, he would unconsciously pay more attention to her. Without realizing it himself, when facing Shen Miao’s questions, he taught with extra patience.

But Pei Lang was a smart man, and smart people don’t allow themselves to make mistakes.

So when he noticed his increasingly strange feelings, he decided to stop this mistake. That’s why he suggested Shen Miao go to Qin State as a hostage. But five years later, when Shen Miao returned, his feelings still hadn’t changed.

He coldly watched as Shen Miao fought with Madam Mei in the inner palace, covered in wounds, her gaze growing dimmer, her appearance more haggard.

Finally, when Fu Xiuyi asked him how to deal with the remaining members of the Shen family, he unhesitatingly said four words:

“Cut off the roots.”

He was cutting the grass in his heart, removing the roots in his heart.

But he didn’t expect that when Fu Xiuyi “cut off the roots,” he would even remove Fu Ming. Even tigers don’t eat their cubs, yet Fu Xiuyi could lay his hands on his flesh and blood. Princess Wanyu could still be excused as an accident on the journey, but Fu Ming’s death could only have been on Fu Xiuyi’s orders.

Pei Lang remembered Shen Miao’s eyes when she learned of Fu Ming’s death—those clear black and white eyes opened wide, without tears, yet so miserable that one couldn’t bear to look.

That fire burned for three days and three nights, igniting Pei Lang’s growing remorse.

He went to find the abbot of Putuo Temple, asking how to remove the karmic obstacles in his heart.

The abbot was an old monk who shook his head at him: “A heart ailment needs heart medicine.”

Is there such a thing as a medicine for regret in this world?

Pei Lang sought guidance from the high monk, who said: “The reason you frequently dream of the deceased is because you owe them. She lingers in your dreams, unable to dissipate, because her resentment remains unresolved. She cannot move on to the next life, nor can she find release.”

Pei Lang was anxious and asked if there was a solution.

The monk asked in return: “If righting past wrongs and seeking a chance to start over required your life, would you be willing?”

Pei Lang said: “I am willing.”

The monk said: “Then return.”

“Why should I return?” Pei Lang didn’t understand.

“You are willing to sacrifice your life, but that opportunity requires waiting.”

“What opportunity are you referring to?” Pei Lang asked.

“The person you owe has unfulfilled wishes. When those wishes are fulfilled, if you offer your life, perhaps there will be hope.” The monk said “Amitabha” and added: “That’s all I can say; I cannot say more.”

Pei Lang thanked the monk and returned to the palace.

What was Shen Miao’s unfulfilled wish?

Shen Miao’s life had been miserable and lonely, with lost children and a perished clan. What she wanted to see was probably her enemies in hell and the Shen family restored to glory.

There was a chance to start over, but you had to wait. Would you wait?

Wait. Pei Lang made his decision.

This life was so long that he was willing to use his life to remedy a mistake.

…

Winter passed and spring came; wild geese came and went.

When a dynasty approaches its end, an aura of decline envelops it.

Ming Qi was no longer the Ming Qi of before. Excessive taxes and levies, corvée labor—the people could barely survive. Corrupt officials collaborated, the court was in chaos, and the Emperor was foolish.

The Crown Prince was busy forming factions every day, eager to ascend the throne as soon as possible.

With military power consolidated but no capable generals to command, Ming Qi was a piece of fat meat that everyone wanted a bite of.

The distant Da Liang, after conquering and annexing the Qin State, finally launched an attack on the Ming Qi. Like sweeping away decayed wood, victory came all too easily as they marched right up to the city gate of the capital.

They set up camp, and inside the capital, everyone feared for their lives. Citizens kept their doors tightly shut as an atmosphere of a fallen nation pervaded.

In the large military tent, someone was sitting and polishing a long sword.

“Ming Qi’s fate has reached its end,” said a white-robed man as he entered, fanning himself. His voice revealed no particular emotion as he continued, “I heard they’re cleaning up in the palace tonight.”

They were cleaning up the palace women—concubines, palace maids, even princesses of the royal family—all were to be cleaned up. Rather than falling into enemy hands and suffering humiliation, it was better to die cleanly, considered as preserving one’s honor.

Was it preserving honor? Among those people, how many didn’t want to die?

The sword-polishing motion paused, and the man raised his head, revealing an extremely handsome face. He had a pair of gentle almond-shaped eyes, but his gaze was cold. He asked, “Oh, has Empress Shen’s body been found?”

Ji Yushu lifted the tent flap and walked in, just in time to hear the question, and replied, “I’ve inquired. No, the fire in the Cold Palace burned everything to ashes, not even a piece of clothing was left.”

Gao Yang mocked, “Fu Xiuyi was truly afraid of gossip, handling it cleanly and decisively.”

“The Shen family is truly a pity,” Ji Yushu sighed. “If the Shen family were still here, how could he have fallen to such a state?”

Xie Jinghang said indifferently, “He brought destruction upon himself.” He glanced at the red string in his hand.

The color of the string had faded somewhat, but it was still secure. Later, he had been on the battlefield many times, and this red string had never fallen off.

Remembering the woman’s clear, spirited congratulations that night, Xie Jinghang shook his head. That promise would ultimately be broken. Who could have known that in just a few short years, the Ming Qi dynasty would collapse so quickly? Even without Da Liang, it wouldn’t have lasted long.

He had indeed returned victorious and had planned to fulfill her wish and watch fireworks with her, considering the farewell wine she had given him. But the person was gone; there would be no chance in this life.

He said, “Tomorrow morning, we attack the city.”

…

Da Liang’s flags flew high. The sky in June changed rapidly, with dark clouds pressing down on the city and fierce winds blowing, as if a downpour was imminent.

There was no one left in the palace; corpses lay scattered everywhere. There were palace women who had “hanged themselves,” and servants who had been beheaded by Da Liang’s troops.

Blood flowed across the land, with countless corpses strewn about.

Pei Lang sat in the tea hall, pouring tea for himself. He poured slowly, and the incense smoke in the corner of the table rose gently, emitting a fragrance like a beauty’s whisper, intoxicating the heart.

He glanced outside the window.

The day Shen Miao died, the weather had been just like this—gloomy skies, suddenly followed by a torrential downpour.

He had waited for a long time, finally reaching this day.

Da Liang’s army had arrived; Ming Qi’s fate was coming to an end. Fu Xiuyi and Madam Mei were about to reach the end of their lives. Shen Miao’s wish could probably be fulfilled.

The mistake he had made finally had a chance for redemption.

He poured the contents of a small bottle into the wine pot on the other side, then filled a cup to the brim for himself.

Your wish is about to be fulfilled. Unfortunately… the one fulfilling your last wish isn’t me.

On the city tower, with armies pressing in, the Emperor and Empress were bound with their hands tied behind their backs, fastened to flagpoles.

Everyone has selfish desires; for the sake of their survival, they can cut off others’ paths to life. This was something Fu Xiuyi and Madam Mei often did, and now it was their turn to taste this flavor.

The officials of Ming Qi’s palace had bound their own country’s Emperor and Empress, surrendering to Da Liang to curry favor. They were willing to use the heads of the Emperor and Empress to beg for mercy and save their own lives.

When a tree falls, the monkeys scatter; when a wall collapses, everyone pushes. No matter how favored Madam Mei had been, at this moment, she couldn’t command anyone.

Oh, and there was also the new Crown Prince, Fu Sheng. His head had already been cut off by the most sycophantic officials at his side, Xie Changwu and Xie Changchao, and presented to Da Liang’s general to curry favor.

Below the city tower, the man sitting on his tall horse lazily narrowed his eyes. The dark clouds had somehow dispersed, and golden sunlight gradually spread across the entire city.

He wore magnificent robes and military attire stained with blood, yet remained noble and immaculate, with an innate authority. This formed a stark contrast with the Emperor tied up on the tower, at the mercy of others.

“Xie Jinghang,” Fu Xiuyi gritted his teeth.

The son of Lin’an Marquis, Xie Ding’s son, the brother of Xie Changwu and Xie Changchao—no one had expected that the youth who had supposedly died on the battlefield, the youth who had declined along with the Lin’an Marquis Estate, would reappear before the world in such a manner years later.

He was the brother of Da Liang’s Yongle Emperor, the precious Rui Prince, and also Da Liang’s young marshal, commanding the fearsome Mo Yu Army.

“Long time no see, Fu family brat,” Xie Jinghang greeted him.

Everyone knew that Da Liang’s Yongle Emperor’s brother was most glorious, conquering the world for him, and most upright and generous. Such a heroic figure was originally the son of the Lin’an Marquis Estate.

Madam Mei stared intently at that man.

She was extremely afraid. No matter how certain of victory one might be, when faced with matters of life and death, one would lose composure. She had always relied on men to step by step obtain what she wanted, but at this juncture, all her tricks were useless. She blamed Fu Xiuyi for his incompetence, for allowing a good dynasty to fall. Looking at the extraordinarily handsome man below the city, naturally noble, she couldn’t help but stare at him, her gaze full of allure.

Xie Jinghang frowned and asked Ji Yushu, “Shen Miao lost to this woman?”

Ji Yushu said, “That’s right.” He added, “She appears to be of ordinary beauty. I don’t know if this Ming Qi Emperor’s eyes were misplaced.”

Their voices were not concealed, and Da Liang’s army burst into laughter. Madam Mei’s face turned red with hatred. Fu Xiuyi was also inwardly furious. He looked at Xie Jinghang and said in a deep voice, “If you want to kill, then kill. Why waste words?”

“Still pretending to be a great man at this point,” Ji Yushu scoffed. “Third Brother, this Ming Qi Emperor is eager to die.”

Xie Jinghang smiled lazily and said, “This prince didn’t want to kill you; I’m too lazy to do it personally. But this prince owes your little Empress a wish, and coincidentally, this outcome is also what you prepared for this prince many years ago. So, both officially and personally, I must return it in kind.”

He opened his hand, and Gao Yang presented a long bow and silver arrows. Xie Jinghang nocked an arrow, and with a “whoosh,” Madam Mei on the city tower was hit.

The arrow didn’t strike her chest but deliberately avoided vital spots. Blood flowed continuously, a horrifying sight. Madam Mei was in such pain that she nearly fainted. Fu Xiuyi’s face, which had been relatively composed, also changed.

The most terrifying thing in the world is not death but waiting for death.

Xie Jinghang smiled slightly, then held out his hand again. Gao Yang presented two more silver arrows.

He nocked both arrows on the long bow, then whistled.

Suddenly, tens of thousands of Da Liang troops all drew their bows and aimed their arrows at the two people on the city tower.

The wind blew the flags atop the tower, making them flap noisily like wailing ghosts. As the last bit of dark clouds dispersed, golden sunlight covered the land, scorching the earth.

The man’s purple robes fluttered slightly in the wind. His smile was cold, but between his brows, there seemed to be a youthful mischief. Standing below the city tower, looking at the two fearful people, he laughed aloud.

“Sorry, Emperor brat, entrusted by a lady to take your dog life.”

“Fire!”

Tens of thousands of arrows fiercely shot toward the two on the tower, like ferocious beasts released from their cages, almost blocking out the sky and earth. Not even the golden sunlight could penetrate as they engulfed the two.

Nothing could be seen.

In the imperial palace, the blue-robed man had already fallen onto the table, as if asleep.

At his feet, a lantern tilted, and the candle inside fell. In just half a moment, it ignited the curtains, and the flames gradually spread, burning through the Chonghua Palace, burning through the Imperial Hall, until the entire palace was surrounded by fierce flames, a sea of red.

“Oh, Third Brother, the palace is on fire,” Ji Yushu looked into the distance and exclaimed. “Should we send people to put it out?”

“No need,” Xie Jinghang stopped him.

“This Ming Qi palace is unclean; it’s satisfying to burn it.” he raised an eyebrow. “Daylight fireworks—at least I didn’t break my promise.”

“What does that mean?” Ji Yushu didn’t understand.

Xie Jinghang gazed at the corner of the sky dyed red by the flames, but in his eyes appeared the image of a lonely figure drinking under the clear moonlight.

“This dynasty failed you, so this prince overthrew it for you,” he said softly. “This must be your wish.”

He didn’t notice that the red string that had been firmly tied around his wrist for years without falling off suddenly broke and fell into the remaining fire on the ground, turning to ashes.

Nor did anyone hear the woman’s long sigh from within the ashes.

So this was the calamity, this was the connection.

What your eyes see may not be real. What your ears hear may also not be real. In the previous and current lives, he stood at a distant peak with a casual smile, but only by being close could one understand what kind of person he was. He appeared cynical yet was most sincere, full of schemes yet honorable. He could mobilize an army with a cup of warm wine, and for a stranger he met by chance, he could ride to the tower and say, “Sorry, Emperor brat, entrusted by a lady to take your dog life.” He lived with the greatest burden yet the most carefree manner, in the darkest yet most authentic way. From baseness emerged infinite sincerity. Looking down on the world, coldly contending, finally unhurriedly moving his chess pieces, holding that bit of light in his palm.

This was her question, her question, but only he could answer it.

“It’s raining,” Gao Yang put away his fan. “Summer weather is so strange.”

Xie Jinghang smiled. “Enter the city.”

“For what?”

“To overthrow imperial power.”

…