This rebellion that had lasted several months finally settled down with the rain that followed.

The rain washed over Jiankang, cleansing away the scorched ruins and traces of blood from the streets. The great pit was filled in, and order slowly returned to the city. However, that newly repaired section of wall with its stark dividing line from the old bricks on either side remained like a glaring scar, constantly reminding every passerby of the baptism of blood and fire this magnificent imperial capital had recently endured.

For the people living here, it was from the day Rong Kang entered the city that their long-held suffering and fear of chaotic times truly left an unbearable mark on their lives.

Before this fall, for those who naturally relied on the imperial city’s protection, it seemed that even if the sky fell, the emperor and court officials would hold it up. No matter how war-torn Jiangbei became, all the refugees’ blood and tears and desperate suffering, when news reached this city, were merely topics for casual conversation over tea—whether indignant, sorrowful, helpless, or even numb.

Though the court was weak, since Jiankang became the capital, it had repeatedly faced threats from rebels and northerners. But the closest experience to common suffering in their memories was Xu Mi’s rebellion that year. Looking back later, it had only involved moving households temporarily, soon returning safely with nothing changed—just some toil. It was like a not-too-deep scar that, once healed, was forgotten without leaving much lasting pain.

This time was completely different from the past. In just a few short months, they personally suffered wave after wave of plunder, living day and night on the edge of death’s threat and trembling fear. On that day, when they learned the army had entered the city and rebels scattered like birds and beasts, the people’s emotions could no longer be contained. They poured from their homes onto the streets, joining the army in besieging the fleeing rebels everywhere, their venting sobs filling the entire city.

Order in the city was quickly restored, but the surging emotions among the people did not settle accordingly.

The once lofty imperial house and court fell overnight from the clouds into the mud. When the noble and magnificent outer robes were ruthlessly stripped away, revealing a rotting corpse covered in sores and crawling with maggots, the destroyed authority could never again be restored to its altar or maintain its former sanctimonious appearance.

Disappointment in the imperial house and the intense dissatisfaction that followed spread like an invisible plague throughout the neighborhoods. In stark contrast, news of the Yingtian Army stationed at Jingkou Ferry and Caishi Ferry was wildly spread among the people.

As if catching a whiff of something extraordinary, the people were ecstatic with joy and celebration. Within days, everywhere in the neighborhoods there was heated discussion of the previously court-banned rumor “When the nation is about to prosper, the white tiger plays at court” and the cryptic prophecy that had appeared on the “auspicious sign”: “When wood and grain flourish, the nation prospers.”

A dynastic change was imminent, and everyone was eagerly awaiting that day’s arrival.

Gao Yin naturally soon received news from the garrison troops at these two locations.

Jingkou and Caishi Ferry, located upstream from Jiankang, were the two great military fortresses connecting north and south downstream. Positioned left and right, they led directly to Jiangdong and were strategic points that military strategists must seize.

What the Yingtian Army’s occupation without notice signified was self-evident.

He saw off Feng Wei, who had just recovered for a few days but, despite his physical weakness, had come to see him with deep worry. Combined with the public opinion that had been boiling these past days, his thoughts were heavy.

After much consideration, he finally rode out of the city to the military camp at Shizi Hill to request an audience with Li Mu.

Li Mu would depart north tomorrow. When Gao Yin entered his tent, he saw him in casual clothes, sitting behind a desk with a scroll beside his hand that seemed just set down. The inner pages were old and frayed, but the cover was newly mounted, showing the owner’s care for it.

Gao Yin’s sharp eyes caught a glimpse and recognized it as a Book of Songs scroll. He couldn’t help feeling slightly surprised, unable to imagine how someone like Li Mu, constantly campaigning north and south in military urgency, would carry such a book with him—but he had no intention of investigating, as this wasn’t his purpose for coming.

Li Mu rose to welcome him, invited him to sit, exchanged a few pleasantries, then asked his purpose for coming.

When he asked, his face bore a smile with a naturally magnanimous bearing.

On the way here, Gao Yin’s thoughts had been turbulent.

Countless words he wanted to say swirled and lingered in his heart.

However, when this moment arrived and he truly faced Li Mu, he couldn’t speak a single one of those words.

He remained silent. Li Mu didn’t urge him either. After waiting a moment and seeing he didn’t speak, Li Mu picked up the scroll beside him again and slowly turned a page.

“May I ask the Grand Marshal, have you set a date for ascending the throne?”

As if a long time had passed, finally Gao Yin heard such a question ring in his ears.

After the words left his mouth, suddenly realizing he had spoken them, he couldn’t help feeling dazed.

He didn’t know why he had suddenly said such a thing.

He didn’t know whether this came from his innermost thoughts, slipping out spontaneously, or was merely a test of the person before him.

Regardless of which reason, it was clearly abrupt and inappropriate.

He instinctively wanted to retract the words, slightly moving his lips, but fell silent again, only holding his breath.

Li Mu slowly raised his eyes, his gaze moving from the scroll in his hands to settle on Gao Yin’s face.

The two men’s eyes met.

The faint shouts of soldiers from outside the tent reached their ears, making the silence within seem even more profound—so quiet that Gao Yin felt he could hear the rhythmic rushing sounds of blood flowing repeatedly through his chest.

The brief eye contact was short, like cold snowflakes falling on burning skin, quickly melting away. But to Gao Yin, it felt endlessly long. He even felt a tension he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

Just as his heartbeat quickened accordingly, he saw Li Mu smile at him.

“After breaking Datong, destroying Xi Liang, and completing the Northern Expedition, it should be near.”

He spoke thus, his tone ordinary and expression calm, as if discussing the most common matter with him, showing no aggressive pressure. Yet invisibly, Gao Yin felt the overwhelming force of Mount Tai pressing down.

It was a power and presence that crushed everything with the confidence of “who else but me.”

Before his eyes flashed the several Dayu court ministers who had come to see him during the day, asking: “If there are those who refuse to submit when the time comes, what does the Grand Marshal intend to do?”

“Those who refuse to submit shall all be executed.”

Li Mu said this. Just these five words, nothing more.

Gao Yin was silent for a moment, slowly rose, and took his leave.

Li Mu didn’t detain him further, escorting him outside the tent. Returning, he picked up that scroll, lost in thought for a moment, then slowly reclined on a couch, covering his face with the scroll and lying motionless as if asleep.

Several officers who had come with him were waiting outside, finally seeing Gao Yin’s figure appear and hurrying to meet him.

“General Gao, must we really fight the Yingtian Army again to retake the ferries?”

A deputy general asked quietly.

Gao Yin remained silent.

Several men looked at him with anxious expressions.

Gao Yin’s gaze slowly swept around those beside him, asking: “What are your thoughts?”

The men initially said nothing. After a long while, one deputy general, observing his grave expression, finally stammered: “The soldiers below all think of laying down their arms and returning to peaceful life… they don’t want to fight anymore…”

“It’s not that we’re cowardly, but it’s inappropriate to fight the Yingtian Army,” another said.

“The people strongly support the Yingtian Army. Many soldiers in our ranks have received instructions from their families these past days, telling them not to oppose the Grand Marshal, fearing the townspeople would point at their backs and curse their ancestors…”

“To be honest, military morale is already unstable… Of course, if the general commands it, even at the cost of life, we will follow the general’s orders…”

After speaking, several men held their breath and watched Gao Yin.

Gao Yin was silent for a moment, then said: “Withdraw everyone back to Guangling.”

The deputy generals looked at each other, showing expressions of incredulous joy, and quickly accepted the order.

Gao Yin said no more, passed by the men, left the camp, and rode aimlessly until finally reaching the riverside, where he stopped.

He dismounted and stood alone by the river, gazing at the endless eastward flow below. Before his eyes seemed to appear the delighted expressions of those subordinates loyal to the Gao clan after hearing his order.

Yes, as today’s head of the Gao family, he had made his decision.

Though difficult and filled with many regrets, he knew his decision was correct.

This was not only the decline of the aristocratic glory he was born with and had once been proud of, the end of the old dynasty, but perhaps also the farewell and departure of an entire era.

Like this river flow beneath his feet—once flowing east, it would never return.

When everything that should come finally arrived, no force could stop it.

Gao Yin faced the fierce river wind and took a long, deep breath.

He thought he was ready to wait and welcome the arrival of a new dynasty.

…

As the last winter snow melted and green life returned to the wilderness outside Chang’an, Luoshen received news.

Her cousin Gao Yongrong had fallen gravely ill and was now in serious condition. Day and night, whenever she was conscious, she would murmur Luoshen’s name.

Gao Yin sent someone with a personal letter asking if she would be willing to come to Jiankang to visit Gao Yongrong.

Li Mu had returned to Chang’an from Jiankang at the beginning of last month. After a brief reunion, he had led troops north again, continuing the Northern Expedition that had been interrupted.

Once Yongzhou was taken, Datong captured, and the Xiongnu driven back to where they belonged, the great enterprise of the Northern Expedition would finally be achieved as he wished.

Luoshen looked forward to the end of this chaotic world and endless warfare.

After receiving the letter, she thought for a long time and finally decided to return south.

Gao Huan did not accompany Li Mu on this northern campaign. He brought a force to personally escort his sister on the southward journey.

In the second month of mid-spring, on this day, Luoshen once again set foot on Jiankang’s territory.

Gao Yin traveled a hundred li out to Xuanwu City, under Jiankang’s jurisdiction, to welcome her arrival.

That night, Luoshen temporarily lodged in the city, preparing to enter Jiankang the next day.

Returning to Jiankang again and recalling the scene when she first left, everything had changed. Her heart was filled with many emotions. As she was contemplating, someone came to report that Feng Wei requested an audience.

Luoshen had him brought in.

Though that life-and-death ordeal had passed several months ago, traces could still be seen on Feng Wei’s body.

His health seemed never to have fully recovered. His steps were unsteady, wearing Dayu court robes, his attitude toward Luoshen extremely respectful.

Luoshen still treated him with the courtesy due an elder, smiling as she inquired after his health and invited him to sit.

But Feng Wei insisted on not sitting, saying: “Madam, to be honest, Feng Wei comes here with a matter, hoping for madam’s assistance.”

Luoshen didn’t force him. After taking her own seat, she smiled: “What matter? Speak freely.”

Feng Wei stepped forward and suddenly knelt before her, performing a bow of gratitude.

Luoshen quickly moved aside to avoid it, saying: “Minister Feng is my elder, respected and virtuous. I should call you Uncle. What matter makes you perform such ceremony to me? Please rise quickly!”

Feng Wei didn’t rise, only straightened his body, saying: “Does madam know how the court now discusses the Grand Marshal?”

“How do they discuss him? Tell me.”

Luoshen’s face still bore a smile.

“Everyone says the Grand Marshal now has ambitions to replace Dayu. Stationing troops at the northern double ferries is clear proof. If this is truly so, wouldn’t this be using kindness to control and taking advantage of crisis to enter?”

Feng Wei paused.

“Previously when people criticized the Grand Marshal, I publicly refuted them, saying the Grand Marshal was absolutely not someone with rebellious intentions. Now, not knowing whose slander he’s heard, he has such improper actions. Madam, born noble and always understanding righteousness, must know such actions are extremely inappropriate. If madam would speak to persuade him, the Grand Marshal would surely listen.”

“Though the young emperor has died, the imperial clan still exists. Why not choose worthily from the clan to establish, with the Grand Marshal as regent?”

“As for the Empress Dowager, please let the Grand Marshal and madam rest assured. With the previous warning, the Empress Dowager will surely put the Grand Marshal first in everything hereafter and never repeat past mistakes or listen to slander. If this could be so, the Grand Marshal would not only preserve his extraordinary achievement of restoring the realm and his beautiful reputation for loyalty and righteousness, but would be recorded in history books and remembered for ten thousand generations…”

“Whose realm? And who established the rule that this land’s ruler can only be chosen from the Xiao family?”

The smile gradually disappeared from Luoshen’s face. She suddenly rose abruptly from her seat, interrupting Feng Wei’s words.

Feng Wei hesitated, murmuring: “The Grand Marshal, as a subject, taking over thus might have the flaw of name not being legitimate, words not being smooth…”

Luoshen laughed coldly: “Minister Feng, I see you’ve forgotten about being buried in that pit! Who should be emperor to benefit the people—you know perfectly clearly in your heart, yet you still come here. I suppose it’s merely from some selfish motives!”

She walked to the door, flung it open, and pointed outside: “Why don’t you repeat what you just told me to those officers and soldiers, and see if they agree!”

Feng Wei was momentarily speechless, slowly turning red-faced.

Indeed, his reason for coming here wasn’t entirely from loyalty to the Xiao house.

His true loyalty to this dynasty was actually far less than he had imagined.

He simply had a premonition. Once Li Mu ascended the throne as emperor, this familiar Southern Dynasty and many things he had grown accustomed to in the first half of his life would probably all be overturned and cease to exist.

Even if wealth and status could still be preserved, he instinctively feared such change and hoped to maintain the current situation. Driven by this fear, knowing hope was slim, he still came here.

At this moment, he suddenly remembered the auspicious stone that Rong Kang had once presented.

Regarding that thing’s truth, far more than just himself in the court knew the reality.

What auspicious signs existed in the world? They only appeared when needed to achieve certain unspoken purposes.

But now, looking back at that thing, it had prophetically come true, as if arranged by fate from the beginning.

He knew everything was destined and could no longer be shaken in the slightest.

“Madam, you were born into the Gao clan. The Gao clan shares weal and woe with Dayu. Today’s court has declined to this state—are you truly completely unmoved?”

Feng Wei murmured, only able to say this.

Luoshen stared at him, suddenly smiled, and said: “Minister Feng, didn’t you just say the Grand Marshal listened to someone’s slander and developed rebellious intentions? Let me tell you—that person was me. What I’ve always desired is to be this world’s empress.”

“My husband is now about to fulfill my wish. Tell me, how should my mood be at this moment?”

Feng Wei was stunned, unable to say another word. He rose from the ground, quietly took his leave, turned, and slowly walked away in dejection.