Tie Ci shouted loudly: “Pingzong! A’Xing!”
A flash of red and white figures appeared as Pingzong rushed out in a mad dash. With one step, she leaped into the air, flicked her sleeves, and an ice step appeared beneath her feet. From afar, it looked like a deity wielding a giant white brush across the sky, writing strokes and dots.
She stepped onto the ice step and flicked again, creating another stroke beneath her feet.
She continued stepping up the stairs, turning in mid-air, the ice steps spinning and circling beneath her feet, winding up toward the heavens.
His brocade robes flying, You Weixing followed up the ice steps with light, swift steps, treading on the suspended ice stairs without breaking them.
In just a moment, Pingzong and You Weixing had borrowed the ice steps to reach the high sky.
Below, tens of thousands of soldiers looked up, their hearts stirred and spirits shaken.
Until both became small black dots, Pingzong had exhausted her strength, still three zhang away from the general.
You Weixing needed to touch the person in question to activate his ability.
Silver light flashed like lightning, breaking through the clouds and descending.
With the previous Duanmu Sangtang still unresolved, and now another one coming, no one could handle it.
Pingzong let out a great shout, with one hand sending out a flame toward the general, while with the other she grabbed You Weixing and threw him upward with all her might.
The ice steps couldn’t withstand such force and suddenly shattered, causing Pingzong to fall rapidly from the great height.
With a “whoosh” sound, You Weixing passed through the high sky, rising another three zhang, striking out with his palm with all his might, but was still one chi short of reaching the general.
The general didn’t dodge either, coldly laughing as he looked down at him from mid-air.
Behind him was still the flight wing, securing him so he wouldn’t be blown about by the high-altitude winds.
You Weixing’s form was about to fall.
Silver light descended like lightning.
A gust of wind arose, and a rope swept past You Weixing’s eyes.
It was a parachute cord.
His eyes lit up as he grabbed it fiercely, using the momentum to flip in mid-air and climb up the general’s leg.
His palm slapped down with a “pa” sound as he shouted: “Go back!”
The wind suddenly grew fierce, swirling wildly in the firmament above.
Before the general’s eyes, lights and shadows swirled chaotically, everything rapidly retreating. You Weixing released his grip from the general’s leg and fell, You Weixing moved horizontally through mid-air, You Weixing stepped onto the top of the ice steps, You Weixing stepped back down the ice steps level by level… The scenes flashed by like lightning, too fast for the eye to follow, until finally a silver flash appeared and the general’s body shuddered.
He looked down in astonishment at the silver briefcase – three buttons, one red and two green, indicating two shots remained unfired.
What about the one that was just fired?
Had it returned?
What kind of ability was this?
……
Pingzong and You Weixing fell from the great height one after another.
A gust of wind passed, carrying fine sand and broken snow, spiraling upward and catching both of them in turn.
You Weixing landed with a regretful expression.
This time’s reversal had been very brief, unable to reverse even the first cannonball.
His reversal ability required consuming the opponent’s energy, and clearly the opponent’s energy was too great, causing his reversal time to be too short. He could barely reverse the second shot, let alone the first one.
Moreover, he couldn’t perform a second reversal today.
Tie Ci also sighed.
She had always kept A’Xing with her for this moment, but seeing Duanmu Sangtang act first, and after seeing the size of the case, she decided to have A’Xing delay his action.
She was waiting for this possible second cannonball, hoping they might be able to send both back together.
However, things didn’t go as wished.
High above, the general paused slightly, then coldly laughed and pressed his finger toward the button again.
Time reversal, was it?
But he was still here.
If once didn’t work, then twice. They had exhausted their strength blocking once – could they keep blocking again and again?
The silver light in the black mass was still falling, and Sangtang was still struggling to support it.
The general’s hand fell again.
Suddenly a wind arose.
The sandstorm was extremely fierce, forming whirls on the ground that grew larger and more violent, sweeping up sand and residual snow along with scattered flying vehicle parts, spinning higher and higher in the wind column until finally condensing into a massive golden needle that rotated as it pierced into the black mass, heading directly toward the silver light and the general above it.
The moment the golden needle contacted the silver light, it exploded thunderously, scattering like chaotic rain within the black mass, but also managing to block the silver light’s descent once more.
The wind dispersed but didn’t cease entirely, transforming into a giant horizontal palm that swept past the black mass and struck the general’s parachute with a “bang.”
With a crash, that wind wrapped around the general’s parachute and blew horizontally, causing the parachute lines behind the general to tangle together as they headed toward a rocky mountain.
The general wasn’t anxious, but he had to release the button, grasping the briefcase with one hand while pressing the parachute release with the other, preparing to jettison the chute and use his backup flight device.
The moment he raised his hand.
From the ninety-degree cliff face of that rocky mountain, a shadow suddenly drifted out.
The shadow had originally been pressed against the rocky mountain, motionless, like a natural shadow cast by sunlight. Who would have thought that at such a height, at such an angle, there was actually someone there.
When that shadow drifted out, it was as natural as stone peeling from the mountain.
Her sword light was also like the light of sun and moon turning around a mountain corner, lightly and delicately illuminating the general’s body.
Only someone like Tie Ci could see that in this instant, the shadow along with her sword, her entire being, passed through the general’s body.
In mid-air, red and white splattered chaotically, and something struck the cliff face with a “pa” sound.
That slender figure hung in mid-air, body leaning forward, still maintaining the posture of charging forward with sword horizontal due to the excessive speed.
She seemed lost in thought.
The blood-stained silver case fell.
Tie Ci’s figure flashed as she rushed forward, but due to the great distance, she couldn’t make it in time.
Xiao Ying suddenly turned around, reached out and caught the silver case in her hand.
Murmuring: “Finally got my revenge…”
She looked up, and ten zhang away, Sangtang suddenly swayed and spat out a mouthful of blood.
Duanmu’s hand was already pressed against his back, and a bronze-colored figure flashed – Chen Tuntian, who had just controlled the wind to sweep away the general, appeared and also placed his hand on Sangtang’s back.
Tie Ci rushed over and also extended her hand.
She couldn’t spare time to check on Murong Yi at the bottom of Wo Li Hai, only knowing that this light absolutely could not be allowed to fall.
Duanmu looked disdainfully at the blood at the corner of her lips, thinking that though her internal energy was chaotic, it was better than nothing, so he said nothing.
However, the black mass was still falling bit by bit, and that point of silver light was also approaching the bottom of the black mass bit by bit, appearing from afar like scornful eyes flickering.
Cold sweat poured down Sangtang’s forehead.
Duanmu suddenly withdrew his hand and said: “Forget it, let it fall!”
Tie Ci: “No! If it falls, everyone will die. Have you forgotten how you were originally injured!”
“But Sangtang will die first!”
“Death is death – what difference does order make! If we block it, at least some people can survive!”
Duanmu struck Tie Ci with a palm, sending her flying three zhang away. “Get lost! I won’t allow Sangtang to die even a moment before me!”
The moment he struck, Sangtang suddenly let out a low shout, his whole body shaking as he spat out another mouthful of blood.
This blood was truly like rain, a muddy purple color. As soon as it sprayed onto the black mass, the black mass immediately became several degrees more solid. Sangtang didn’t pause, leaping up with his whole body into his dark barrier.
Duanmu’s shout was almost piercing: “No—A’tang—”
Sangtang’s voice, heard through the black mist, seemed distant and ethereal: “Sanlang, I want you not to die.”
After a pause, he said: “I want Sang Ruo not to die, preferably for everyone not to die.”
Duanmu let out a great cry and flew up, about to plunge headfirst into the black mist.
The black mist suddenly shuddered, bouncing Duanmu away, contracting before suddenly expanding.
It swelled to become a black cloud mass that almost covered Wo Li Hai.
In the black mist, Sangtang could be faintly seen continuously spitting blood. With each mouthful, the black mist expanded and solidified by one degree, forcibly supporting the silver light to stop its descent and slowly retreat toward the horizon.
People below were cheering, but Tie Ci, already at the end of her strength and badly injured by Duanmu’s palm, couldn’t get up for a while. She looked up at the retreating silver light, but her heart grew colder and colder.
Retreat where? No matter how long it flew in the sky, it would eventually have to fall.
When it fell, it would be doomsday.
Moreover, even if this thing didn’t hit the ground, couldn’t it explode by itself in the sky?
The black mist suddenly contracted violently, like a woman in labor pains, trembling and bouncing with violent shaking.
Tie Ci vaguely saw the human figure in the black mist suddenly fall, but at the last moment spread his sleeves and extended his body, countless air currents bursting from around him.
The next instant, with a “pu” sound, the silver light was squeezed out from the black mass, shooting upward like a flowing arrow toward the sky.
Before people could cheer, the black mist exploded violently, clouds pushing and shoving, fierce winds arising, yellow sand and residual snow flying up to mid-air before falling down. The entire Wo Li Hai was trembling, countless people were bounced up from the ground, and the cavalry that had just arrived fell from their horses and rolled into a heap.
No one noticed that a considerable portion of the scattering air currents struck Tie Ci, hitting her just as she was about to rise and causing her to spit out a mouthful of blood and completely collapse, unable to move.
“Sangtang—” A fierce cry echoed across the Han Li Han Desert as Duanmu rushed over and caught Sangtang, who was drifting down like willow catkins.
His hands were trembling, his whole body was trembling, but for a moment he didn’t dare look at Sangtang. Suddenly he heard people crying out in alarm.
“Look quickly!”
Duanmu looked up and saw the silver light overhead also trembling violently, emitting a light so dazzling it couldn’t be directly viewed, like a new sun burning blazingly above everyone’s heads, continuously expanding—
Very hot, everyone felt that enormous heat, followed by intense burning and suffocating sensations. It was as if heaven and earth were being compressed, boiled, and about to explode in the next moment.
Only Duanmu didn’t feel hot.
He felt completely cold throughout his body, from the moment he touched Sangtang.
He lowered his head in silence, his hair clasp broken at some unknown time, long hair cascading over his shoulders. He had beautiful hair, like blue clouds or black satin. In the past at Yannan, he liked to let his long hair hang down while combing it in the bamboo tower. Later, in the snowfields and desert, Sangtang most enjoyed helping him comb his hair.
His hair was very long and troublesome to manage, but Sangtang could always arrange it neatly and smoothly, not a strand out of place.
Now his hair was disheveled, but Sangtang no longer cared for it.
Duanmu suddenly looked up toward the blazing light overhead that shone like a new sun.
Facing that light, his pupils were dark and lusterless, like a well that had buried all vitality and hope.
The next moment he was in mid-air, facing that light, that continuously expanding brilliance that seemed to wash the sky white.
He extended his hand, five fingers spread like halberds, making a horizontal and vertical gesture, a motion that literally tore everything apart.
Though facing empty space, this tearing motion seemed to rip open a gap in the sky. Through the gap, profound darkness was revealed, and in the depths of that vast darkness, countless star lights sparkled like scattered diamonds.
The gap grew larger and larger, like tearing open a curtain to reveal a new universe and new space-time behind it.
The silver light continued trembling, its brilliance falling on Duanmu’s back and extending upward along his robe’s hem and hair tips. Wherever it passed, a silvery white glow appeared.
At first glance, it seemed the light was dyeing his black hair white, but looking more carefully, Duanmu’s hair scattered in the wind, turning white inch by inch from the tips.
In an instant, time rapidly receded, frost and snow covering his head.
Tie Ci lay on the ground, watching that dancing, swaying white hair, coughing up fresh blood with each breath.
The silver light trembled violently.
Tie Ci closed her eyes.
In mid-air, a thin hand suddenly reached over and grabbed that beam of silver light.
Instantly that hand lost its flesh, becoming white bone.
Thick ice quickly formed over the white bone. Duanmu, feeling no pain, tightly grasped that demon-like round cannonball and turned toward the black hole he had torn open, swinging his arm in a wide arc.
The silver light’s tail generated blinding white fire, flashing past everyone’s eyes before disappearing into that deep, faintly glowing black hole.
Trailing a white rainbow, it vanished in a blink.
Then came tremors from an extremely distant place, transmitted from within that black hole, shaking the fleecy clouds apart and burying the broken snow. People felt trembling beneath their feet, faintly seeming to hear extremely muffled explosion sounds.
The black hole in the sky disappeared instantly, like a wound rapidly healing, and two human figures fell like kites with broken strings.
A gust of wind passed, lifting the two figures and gently delivering them to the ground.
Tie Ci stumbled over.
On the ground lay several corpses. The general’s body had been scraped from the stone wall and thrown on the ground. Something on his wrist was flashing. Tie Ci’s gaze swept over it and she paused.
Then she turned her head.
Duanmu held Sangtang, lying on the other side in a patch of messy snow, robes and long hair scattered, white bone visible beneath his wide sleeves.
His black hair had originally had some silver threads, but these past years of good care had turned it all black. Now it had become completely white again, like a handful of snow fallen among sand and earth.
His expression was very calm, showing no signs of weakness. On his still smooth face, his brows were greener and lips redder, deeply gorgeous and beautiful, not seeming like a real person.
Beside him, Sangtang was pale as snow, his features also peaceful, as if sleeping, with a smile at the corners of his lips.
Duanmu looked at no one, only studying Sangtang’s face as he said: “You didn’t want me to die. I know.”
After a pause, he said: “But you don’t know – I’m unwilling to live alone.”
He stroked Sangtang’s face, helping to straighten his slightly disheveled hair, then tousled his own scattered white hair, smiling: “Now there’s no one to comb my hair.”
After thinking, he added: “White hair is quite ugly. It’s good you didn’t see it.”
Tie Ci gestured for people to come forward and help him up. He lazily said: “Get lost.”
Then added: “You stay.”
Pingzong and the others looked worriedly at Tie Ci, all fearing this great lord might kill Tie Ci in his dying moments of bad temper.
Tie Ci waved her hand, indicating everyone should withdraw.
Her gaze swept through the crowd, suppressing the anxiety and unease in her heart, then turned to look at Duanmu.
“We’ll be buried here,” Duanmu said. “Together, you understand. No tombstone needed, no mound needed, no burial goods needed. I don’t want random people trampling over our heads later, and I don’t want our tomb robbed because we’re too wealthy.”
“Yes.”
“Mark off a hundred li around here, including the courtyard where we lived. Except for Sang Ruo’s clan, from now on no one is permitted to enter.”
“Good.”
“Sangtang was very fond of Sang Ruo. You must take care of her and her clanspeople.”
“I will entrust this matter to Dan Ye.”
Only then did Duanmu open his eyes to look at Tie Ci, then immediately turned his gaze away, saying: “Don’t incur debts. Once you owe debts, you must eventually repay them – if not with money, then with life.”
Tie Ci was speechless.
Duanmu looked her up and down again, then looked at Duanmu again, his eyes revealing a somewhat strange meaning. Then he snorted lightly and said: “Murong Yi has caused us such suffering.”
By this point, it was clear that whether it was providing those with gifted abilities for him to replicate, or Sangtang and Sang Ruo’s acquaintance, all were the handiwork of that deeply scheming and malicious Murong Yi.
He had never been wrong – how could Murong Yi have good intentions?
Tie Ci lowered her eyes, thinking that Murong Yi had faced hardships since childhood, making his nature cold toward worldly affairs. With anyone, he first regarded them as enemies, taking defense to the extreme.
He might not necessarily have known Master’s origins and what she intended to do, but he had long begun preparing defenses.
Whether Broken Mirror City or Duanmu Sangtang, all were contingency plans he had left.
He fed Duanmu the world’s various abilities, left Sangtang with emotional bonds – not necessarily to oppose Master, but rather his imagined preparations for how to struggle for a thread of hope when facing irresistible force in nightmares.
In the end, he won.
From impossibility, he wrested out the brightness of heaven and earth.
Only this required Duanmu and Sangtang’s lives as the price, even using innocent children as bait.
He knew she couldn’t do it, so he didn’t say anything and did it himself.
Tie Ci’s emotions were complex. This usually eloquent person didn’t know how to respond.
But Duanmu laughed mockingly.
“We three madmen and five emperors – what are we in his eyes?”
“Tools to be used? Clowns to be toyed with? Stepping stones for escape?”
Tie Ci was silent for a while, then said: “Senior, I know you’re indignant. In the end, Murong did everything for me. Whatever he did should be considered as done by me. If you want to beat or kill me, want any compensation, I will accept it all.”
“Quite deeply affectionate,” Duanmu sneered. “Yes, he did it all for you, to keep you alive, so he made my Sangtang die.”
Tie Ci’s heart sank as she turned to look toward the bottom of Wo Li Hai.
“He would use any means to keep you alive. Why should I fulfill his wishes?”
Before his words finished, Tie Ci felt a pain in her heart.
As if something had suddenly and fiercely stabbed into her body, then rampaged wildly, opening and closing forcefully, charging left and right. Wherever it went, meridians exploded—
In an instant, Tie Ci was soaked in sweat.
Her vision repeatedly darkened as she said with difficulty: “Give me… give me… one day…”
The howling, raging force within her body didn’t stop. In her daze, Tie Ci heard Duanmu coldly laugh: “Don’t worry, you won’t die that quickly – otherwise I’m afraid no one will bury us and they’ll desecrate our corpses instead.”
He seemed to say something more, but Tie Ci couldn’t hear the rest clearly. She only felt hot blood roaring within her, true qi flowing backward, as if countless small knives had suddenly grown in all her meridians, the knives slowly digging and slashing forward. Wherever they passed was bloody flesh, like lingchi torture.
And at this time there was also another strange, sticky, cold airflow rampaging at those injured meridian locations, bringing burning pain that passed inch by inch, bit by bit, over her entire body.
No, this wasn’t lingchi – this was thousands, tens of thousands of times more painful than lingchi, so painful she would rather die immediately than taste half a moment more of this agony.
But no matter how painful it was inside her body, her exterior remained rigid, unable to even produce the slightest tremor.
People in the distance walked back and forth, occasionally glancing over with concern, but no one discovered their emperor was in the most dangerous moment of her life.
After a long while, Tie Ci finally slightly escaped from that intense pain and rigidity. The roaring continued, but gradually she could see things clearly and hear sounds, like having taken a trip through hell and temporarily returned.
The moment she regained consciousness, she realized it had somehow grown dark.
Duanmu still lay there, calmly watching her. Seeing her open her eyes, that strange expression flashed through his eyes again as he said: “Don’t be happy too early. I’m giving you one more day to live.”
Tie Ci hummed in acknowledgment and said: “Don’t worry, even if I die, no one will desecrate your corpse. Much less Sangtang’s.”
Duanmu smiled then, reaching out to hold Sangtang tighter in his arms, pressing his face against Sangtang’s shoulder and sighing.
He said: “This is quite good.”
These were his last words.
Snow began falling again, howling from the depths of the desert before gently landing in the white hair, disappearing without a trace.
The two people sleeping peacefully had lost their usual fierceness and melancholy, like a pair of finely carved jade statues in deep snow.
Tie Ci knelt beside the two, slightly raising her head. Flying snow spiraled down onto her brows and lashes, melting in moments, scattered light flickering like tears.
……
Another space-time.
Still the chaotic Management Bureau building, demonstrating crowds, angry slogans, electronic banners of various colors flashing above people’s heads.
Security personnel were pushed step by step up the stairs by the human tide, wishing they could use force but receiving no orders.
When the crowd’s clamor reached its peak, suddenly many people instinctively closed their mouths and turned to look toward the sky.
Above the Alliance’s perpetually gray, hazy firmament, a white dot suddenly appeared.
The white dot grew larger and brighter, piercing through the sky’s haze and floating ash, roaring as it approached.
The crowd fell silent for a moment.
This scene wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to Alliance citizens – in the last war with neighboring stars, several cities had been destroyed in just such white light.
Later, to preserve each other, the Cosmic Covenant was brought up again, neighboring stars ceased fire, and both sides agreed to destroy all nuclear weapons.
Alliance citizens hadn’t seen this terrible demon for many years.
No one expected that when they saw it again, it would be raging overhead.
“We’re finished! Help! Someone help!”
Someone let out a shriek, their voice piercing. People instantly awakened and scattered in all directions.
In the Management Bureau’s main control center, people stiffly watched the screens before them.
Various terminals throughout the control room rang incessantly, all kinds of warning sounds sharp and ear-piercing, growing more urgent.
These warning sounds had only started ten seconds ago, immediately entering the highest red alert status after beginning.
This meant enemy attack was discovered only when it was right at hand.
Someone murmured: “…Impossible.”
With the Alliance’s current Celestial Palace detection system, any attack of this level would be discovered tens of thousands of kilometers outside the atmosphere, giving the Alliance sufficient preparation time.
There was no reason for it to suddenly appear overhead the moment it appeared.
Unless…
A researcher turned his gaze toward another screen.
That was the general system monitoring Daqian’s movements, now showing a completely gray-black screen.
The disappearance of all light points representing life was shocking enough, but before this dire news could be digested, an attack had immediately followed.
Currently the Alliance’s detection system was stable, space was stable – the only unstable place that might form a black hole was the space passage leading to Daqian.
That passage, to ensure rapid travel and signal transmission stability, was connected to the Alliance’s current political and economic center of Immortal City, using newly researched high-end bridge technology. The scientists who developed it had warned from the beginning that opening this passage and overly frequent spatial transfers would cause spatial instability around the Alliance planet, forming a two-way passage.
In other words, Alliance people could tear through space to instantly reach Daqian, but theoretically Daqian people could also immediately counterattack through this shortened passage.
But the scientific personnel had no time to think about this.
The military officers and council members on site were already screaming, shouting: “Immediately activate the city protective shield! Activate the protective shield!”
“No good! Activating a protective shield covering the entire Alliance requires signatures from the General and Speaker, and both of them…”
The speaker stopped abruptly, everyone’s eyes clouded with a layer of desperate gloom.
Someone looked up through the all-glass dome at the increasingly close brilliant light.
Once they had shot that light toward another territory, never thinking what it meant.
Now this light returned to strike above their own heads, and they finally understood that the taste of being slaughtered was called despair.
The sun poured down from the sky, carrying infinite anger and resolute revenge.
The light was so bright that everyone’s outlines became blurred, as if they would melt in that blazing white.
Someone murmured: “It’s over…”
The next instant.
“BOOM——”
……
By the shores of Wo Li Hai, people stood about in bewilderment.
The months of fleeing, the tense living, the life-and-death moments just before, had suddenly dispersed like smoke, leaving people feeling at a complete loss.
After a good while, Di Yiwei and Xiao Xueya, who had arrived later, finally reacted. Di Yiwei ordered the troops to regroup and clean up the battlefield.
Xiao Xueya rushed toward where Duanmu Sangtang lay.
He saw the Emperor crouching there.
Before he arrived, he saw Tie Ci raise her head, point at Duanmu Sangtang, then at him, indicating he should handle the arrangements.
Then she turned back to look at the bottom of Wo Li Hai.
There countless flying vehicles lay scattered, various broken parts littered the ground, and traces of blood and severed limbs could still be faintly seen.
Tie Ci’s glance was swift, then she quickly turned her head. Xiao Xueya clearly saw a flash of desolation and despair pass through her eyes.
However, she still didn’t approach Wo Li Hai. She only whispered something to Xiao Xueya, then her figure flashed.
Xiao Xueya reached out his hand, then realized his right hand was gone.
His empty wrist touched empty air.
Tie Ci’s figure was no longer there.
……
One day later.
North of Han Li Han, on the vast snowfields at the foot of Tulan Mountain.
The snowfields eternally received snow, year after year, never melting. As far as the eye could see was boundless white, and looking long enough, one could see a small black dot.
That small black dot was Tie Ci.
Tie Ci had been walking on the snowfields for a long time. Fearing snow blindness, she had simply tied black cloth over her eyes and moved forward by feel.
She seemed to have no particular direction, nor did she care where she was going, wandering aimlessly. Once she saw a deep ravine, surrounded by thick ice accumulated over years, looking jagged and cold. She removed the black cloth and stared for a long time, wondering if this was the ice abyss where Murong Yi had once fallen.
Once passing a snowy peak, she heard faint, continuous beast roars from within the mountain. She stopped and looked up at that high peak stabbing straight toward heaven like a sword, wondering if that was the beast valley where Murong Yi had stayed.
Another time she lingered on an ice plain where there had apparently once been many trees, leaving many broken branches. Those branches were covered layer by layer with ice and snow, frozen hard as swords – cold, frost-white, standing toward heaven. From afar, they looked like countless white bones, stretching desperate fingers toward heaven, demanding fate start over.
She broke off a section of branch, bone-chillingly cold, and thought: Is this the White Bone Plain where you were thrown?
Years ago at Yueli Academy, she had pursued Murong Yi to the back mountain at midnight, witnessing him killing his brother, and learned some of his childhood experiences through their conversation.
Later she always wondered what those beast valleys, ice abysses, and White Bone Plains were like. If she had the chance to see them, she would definitely level the beast valleys, fill the ice abysses, and properly bury the white bones of White Bone Plain, making the vast snowfields completely flat with no places left to harm people.
She couldn’t participate in his painful childhood, couldn’t smooth over his old wounds, but she had wanted to accompany him well for half a lifetime.
But now, everything was too late.
Tie Ci reached out and gently touched her abdomen, sighing silently in her heart.
Despite all calculations and schemes, in the end one could not overcome fate’s ruthlessness.
Behind her the wind was fierce, heaven and earth vast and empty, as if only she remained alone.
But Tie Ci suddenly turned around and said calmly to the empty wind and cold snow: “Come out, Master.”
The wind seemed to howl even more fiercely, scattering countless snowflakes that danced leisurely in mid-air before quietly falling.
No one answered; even voice was blown away.
“You left a message for me on the general’s wrist device – why hide any longer?”
Still complete silence.
Tie Ci was quiet for a while, looked at the sky, and said: “Master, are you waiting for my midnight episode?”
After a moment of silence, someone laughed from afar: “Yes.”
Directly in front of Tie Ci, ten zhang away, two large “rocks” covered in snow suddenly moved.
Yun Buci wore white monk robes, holding a white gun, arms steady, eyes calm, aiming at Tie Ci from afar.
Beside her was Senior Brother with his honest face and shrewd eyes. He carried no weapon, and seeing Tie Ci, still greeted her warmly: “Junior Sister, have you been well?”
Tie Ci’s wide sleeves fluttered in the wind as she gazed at the two people she had once trusted and been closest to, nodding in greeting: “Senior Brother has been well.”
Then she looked at Yun Buci’s gun and said: “Does Master look down on me?”
Yun Buci raised an eyebrow questioningly.
“In these three months of being hunted, I’ve seen this thing countless times. What Master holds today should be the most old-fashioned type.” Tie Ci smiled. “Master is truly confident.”
“Three months of pursuit, fleeing all the way, meridians damaged, pain episodes – you’re already at the end of your strength,” Yun Buci said flatly. “If I carried high-end weapons, that would show I lack confidence.”
“Why must Master kill me?” Tie Ci asked curiously. “Now you’ve already lost.”
Yun Buci looked down at the personal terminal on her wrist. Since morning, the terminal had received no signals.
She knew full well what this meant.
She seemed lost in thought, not knowing what she was thinking. After a long while she nodded and smiled.
“Because we lost, I must kill you. Otherwise how can I face the Alliance people’s anger and the Alliance leadership’s questioning?”
“True, wasting resources and people with nothing to show – you have no way to explain.” Tie Ci nodded. “But sorry, even if I’m at the end of my strength, I absolutely won’t offer up my head to fulfill Master’s needs.”
“Understandable.” Yun Buci also nodded. “Between you and me, there’s no need for false pleasantries, is there?”
“Indeed.” Tie Ci said.
Then she reached into her robes and drew out something.
Yun Buci’s pupils contracted, then she smiled: “You actually still kept that.”
It was a small, delicate silver pistol with beautiful, clean lines and a subtle luster.
Tie Ci gazed at the gun in her hand and said with feeling: “Yes, I kept it all this time because I never knew it was actually a gun.”
She couldn’t help but smile.
Remembering the first time she left the capital for the small building, receiving this parting gift, through a series of misunderstandings she had thought it was contraceptive pills, planning to take one if she accidentally got pregnant.
In the end, the contraceptive pills weren’t contraceptive pills, and when she wanted children, there was no opportunity.
In the end, it turned out to be a defensive weapon Master had given her.
At that time, Master still had some genuine feelings for her.
After all, she had taught her for twelve years, teaching everything, yet always remaining mysteriously silent about weapons and technology from her own era.
The night of the master-disciple negotiations in Chongming Palace, after the gunshot, she went underground and took her belongings as she walked, including this gun in its box.
Placed in a corner of the cabinet, covered in dust, long forgotten.
Years later when she opened it, she was struck speechless with shock.
Perhaps it was deep affection and devotion, yet at that moment it seemed so ironic. She stared at the gleaming gun body, thinking of fate’s coldness and helplessness.
A path of blood and fire, a path of struggle. By this time, she would no longer believe in warmth.
She slowly raised her hand.
With a turn of her wrist, the gun barrel pointed at Yun Buci.
On the snowfield, master and disciple faced each other, one shouldering a gun, one holding a gun, mutually aimed.
“I once heard Master speak of the aristocratic duels popular in medieval Europe,” Tie Ci said. “I’ve always yearned for that. I also deeply agree that most disputes in this world ultimately come down to armed conflict. Since that’s the case, let this conflict occur between you and me. Please fire – until death.”
Yun Buci didn’t answer, her gun barrel steady as before.
In the distance there were faint tremors, snowflakes on the ground jumping slightly.
Tie Ci was completely unaware.
In her vision was only that white-clad figure.
Her elder, her master, her savior, her other mother.
Her mortal enemy.
Arms raised level, correcting the sights.
The delicate little pistol probably couldn’t compare to the long gun opposite whose barrel was three times larger than the pistol.
But what did that matter?
“Bang.”
Two gunshots, because they were perfectly simultaneous, merged into one sound.
Someone’s figure swayed, someone stood motionless.
On the snowfield, snowflakes scattered, the falling snow above stopped for a moment, like a white curtain suddenly pulled by invisible hands, creating a brief vacuum.
Ten zhang apart, blood flowers bloomed on both sides.
Falling on the snowy ground like gorgeous plum blossoms.
Wind rushed from the snowfield’s edge, carrying broken snow that clung to Tie Ci’s face.
Tie Ci still stood, a patch of deep red on her shoulder continuously expanding, then dripping down her side to the snowy ground, leaving small dark red holes.
Ground tremors grew stronger, distant snow rolling like waves.
Tie Ci looked toward Yun Buci, a trace of confusion passing through her eyes.
She also still stood, her face seeming somewhat paler, a pool of blood in front of her, but her clothes weren’t torn, so that Tie Ci couldn’t tell where she was wounded.
The amount of blood didn’t look like much either.
She let out a slight breath.
Not knowing if it was regret or relief.
Opposite her, Yun Buci smiled.
She said: “You don’t seem to have lost your ability to move.”
Tie Ci didn’t answer.
Ever since Duanmu had infused internal energy into her body, her meridians, barely maintained by medicinal force, had completely collapsed. She no longer suffered during that one hour at midnight, but also no longer had the opportunity to suffer.
“So, accept defeat gracefully.” Yun Buci threw her gun onto the snow and pulled out a case from behind her, placing it in front of her.
Tie Ci’s pupils contracted.
This case was too similar to the general’s case, making it immediately clear that it contained another world-destroying weapon.
She stared at Yun Buci.
But Yun Buci smiled lightly.
She pointed at the case and said: “Inside are two items, one called ‘Drum,’ one called ‘Sweet Rain’ – the Alliance’s last remaining world-destroying weapons, ultimate weapons with greater destructive power than ‘Naughty Boy.'”
Tie Ci said nothing, staring tightly at her, blood flowing from her shoulder. She didn’t dare even raise her hand to cover it.
Yun Buci placed her hand on the case and said: “All of this can be yours.”
Tie Ci remained unmoved, waiting for her next words.
“I want you to promise me to accept the Alliance’s remaining people – if there are any left.”
Tie Ci was startled.
“The general threw a nuclear weapon, then had it thrown back – that’s just deserts. But most Alliance people are still innocent.”
“They probably don’t have many people left either. The Management Bureau’s military force is almost completely exhausted. With martial law in the late war period, civilians have almost no weapons. Alliance people are now truly refugees who pose no threat to Daqian, while the modern technology and industrial knowledge they possess could be considered treasures for Daqian.”
“Tie Ci, you’re the most far-sighted ruler – you should know what to do.”
Long silence, only the sound of wind dancing.
After a long time, Tie Ci slowly said: “Sorry, Master, I won’t believe anything you say anymore.”
Yun Buci smiled and said: “If you don’t believe me, I’ll use ‘Drum’ and ‘Sweet Rain’ right now.”
Tie Ci pressed her lips together.
Yun Buci spread her arms wide, encompassing the vast snowfield: “Since Alliance people have no way to live anyway, and have never minded dragging Daqian down with them, in the end it will be like this snowfield – a vast white earth, truly clean.”
Senior Brother suddenly said: “A’ci, before migration we’ll provide a batch of industrial and agricultural technologies most suitable for Daqian, improved seeds, rare species embryos, etc., and first transfer scientific research personnel from various fields, while also transferring weapons detection systems. Before Alliance people pass through the passage, they’ll be scanned by detection systems – anyone hiding weapons will not be allowed into Daqian. How about that?”
Tie Ci remained silent.
Yun Buci waited for a long while, then murmured: “Such hatred…”
She sighed and reached to press the button on the case.
Suddenly a cold light flew over, striking directly at Yun Buci’s hand.
Accompanied by a great shout: “I agree!”
Yun Buci raised her eyebrows and smiled.
Her Senior Brother waved his sleeve, the cold light disappeared, turning into a stream of ice water in mid-air that happened to fall on Yun Buci’s face.
Tie Ci turned around.
She saw a black line faintly appearing on the white horizon. Looking carefully, she discovered it was a great army arrayed like iron, pressing close.
Before the army, where sunlight was about to set, a rider came galloping through snow like wind.
The horse’s hooves threw up chaotic snow like mist. She couldn’t see that person’s face clearly, but couldn’t help raising her face and curving her lips.
In an instant her eyes blazed bright as gold.
The snow mist grew thicker and thicker, and someone burst through the hazy white, wearing sunset’s golden light and flying broken snow, suddenly tackling her down into the snow.
Tie Ci was caught off guard but laughed as she let herself fall. The two embraced and rolled several times in the snow, each getting the other covered in snow and blood.
In their rolling, his lips had already urgently found hers, pressing down heavily without ceremony, so urgently that neither knew whose lips were cut, filling the air with a faint bloody scent.
Four years of separation, three months of pursuit – whether it was revisiting old places two years ago or the wild night atop Cangsheng Tower the night before, even their reunions were like dew or lightning, eyes hiding the desperate resolution to stake everything on one throw, hearts harboring the melancholy of being ready to part at any moment. With life and death so close at hand, even joy felt like final farewell.
Until this moment.
Finally struggling from hardship and impossibility to secure Daqian’s survival, the people’s long peace, dust settled, achieving true reunion at last.
Murong Yi pressed Tie Ci down desperately, not caring that the army was right behind them, cupping Tie Ci’s face and kissing frantically, making Tie Ci think involuntarily of a certain type of dog.
She couldn’t help laughing and reached to push him: “Don’t touch my wound.”
“You don’t touch my wound either,” Murong Yi yielded not an inch. “Do you know I broke my leg?”
Tie Ci reached to feel his leg: “Where? Here? Or that one?”
“What are you touching?”
“So it wasn’t the middle one that broke?” Tie Ci asked in surprise, reaching to squeeze.
“Ouch!”
……
The army was arrayed behind them.
On the left was Daqian’s army, on the right was Dafeng’s army, separated by barely one zhang.
You look at me, I look at you, then look at each other’s emperor.
Then each turned their heads away.
Couldn’t watch.
……
At the unnoticed end of the snowfield.
Senior Brother silently carried Yun Buci on his back and turned away.
The silver-white case was left behind.
Long, winding footprints were left in the snow.
……
Behind them, Tie Ci and Murong Yi were still kissing passionately.
……
Yun Buci lay on Senior Brother’s back, eyes slightly closed, smiling.
When she lay down, fresh blood gushed out from inside her snow-white garments, continuously dripping onto the snow like it would never stop flowing.
The outer robe remained snow-white because there was a layer of waterproof fabric inside.
Through gaps in the outer robe, one could see a huge wound blown open in her chest and abdomen.
Senior Brother felt the stickiness on his back and wanted to turn around, but Yun Buci patted his head like patting a dog.
“Look, the scenery is so beautiful. Don’t turn back.”
Senior Brother walked slowly through knee-deep snow into a verdant coniferous forest ahead.
“Master.”
“Mm.”
“Why don’t you want A’ci to know.”
“There’s no why… many things have no why.”
Sunlight gradually sank into the snowfield’s edge. Between heaven and earth was all hazy, only the nearby snow-laden pine needles glimmered with faint light.
Wind carried snowflakes from deep in the firmament, fine and flickering like distant stars.
Yun Buci raised her head and breathed in the clear, pure air.
As if across space-time, looking at the distant homeland on the other side of the world.
Seeing the huge manor, ancient creaking stairs that turned continuously, spiraling upward layer by layer, climbing toward walls full of dusty old paper books. Wall lamps flickered with dim yellow light.
As a child she disliked this place – this so-called Alliance’s last library, old, ancient, constantly dusty. She disliked those last paper books of the Alliance – yellowed, brittle, endlessly producing insects.
Grandmother always sat in an equally ancient rocking chair, telling her over and over that these walls full of books, this weathered old building, were the Yun family’s and the entire Alliance’s most precious heritage and wealth.
She said no, the Alliance had forgotten these things. They could store an entire library on one small chip, they could read all the world’s books by opening light screens, their future was the sea of stars, every young person yearned to leave the planet and make their voice heard in the universe.
Grandmother stroked her head and smiled, saying that the end of expansion was destruction, and if that day came, remember to preserve the spark for the Alliance.
Later, the Alliance indeed reached the end of destruction.
So she came here.
She came for the Alliance. Years ago at Grandmother’s knee, she had vowed to dedicate her life to Alliance survival and human heritage.
At any cost.
Many years later, someone questioned her: “You speak constantly of democracy and equality, but in your heart, do you truly see Daqian’s people as equals?”
“Do you remember saying that human life knows no distinction of noble and base, that freedom weighs equally throughout the world?”
“Do you truly feel your goals and actions are noble and just?”
And she couldn’t answer.
As a child, Grandmother pointed to the walls full of ancient books and told her all answers were there.
Years later, in the vast snowfields of another space-time in the far north, seeing this vast land and long sky, the myriad universe, sun rising and moon setting, starlight forever bright.
She thought the answer was actually only found along the way.
One couldn’t understand without walking to the very last moment.
This endless wind and snow, this ungatherable moonlight, this unkeepable time, this unreachable homeland.
This life of unknown right and wrong, seeking no answers.
She smiled slightly, facing that distant space-time, spreading her arms wide on her disciple’s back.
Gathering them slightly, like embracing a final, complete dream.
Some unknown faint light fell on her cold, pale cheek, a point of radiance faintly glowing.
That was the ice water Senior Brother had brushed onto her face earlier.
Frozen into ice, never melting.
……
When dawn was about to break.
In the coniferous forest of the snowfield, there was now a small grave mound.
Before the grave were planted a cigarette and a tiny storage device, like two incense sticks, silent in the quiet forest.
A line of footprints passed through the coniferous forest and disappeared into the snowfield’s depths.
……
When dawn was about to break, Tie Ci suddenly grasped Murong Yi’s hand.
Then she leaned against Murong Yi and sat up.
Only then did people light torches on all sides, illuminating this corner of heaven and earth.
Murong Yi reluctantly rose, wrapping her in his cloak, wanting to lift her up.
But his hands suddenly stopped.
The skin beneath his fingers was cold as ice, not like a living person.
Murong Yi’s whole body trembled as he looked up at Tie Ci in horror.
Under the deep red firelight, Tie Ci’s face showed no pallor, even faintly flushed.
She was gazing at him intently, her eyes full of cherishing and reluctance.
This gaze made Murong Yi’s heart race wildly as he gripped her hand tightly.
Like suddenly falling from heaven’s wild joy into the abyss, he found himself choked up and unable to speak.
Tie Ci only looked deeply at him.
She wanted to see this final look into her heart, engrave it in the depths of her dreams, unforgettable even in the next life.
In the vast sea of people, suddenly turning back, she must find him first.
This was also the first time in four years they had faced each other so clearly.
He had grown thin, slightly haggard, but his eyes remained dark and brilliant, flowing light like flying water, with slightly upturned eye corners and exceptionally thick lashes.
Time had favored him, leaving no traces of age. Years of nobility had made him even more like a jade tree in a jade forest, like Guanyin reflected in water and moon.
He was always the one she treasured most deeply in her heart, the best version of him.
She smiled, touching his face, one hand pressing his hand.
But her face turned toward Di Yiwei, Xiao Xueya and the others.
“Officials, listen to my command.”
Di Yiwei was startled, then stepped forward, lifting her robes and kneeling in the snow.
Behind her, Xiao Xueya with his empty sleeve and pale face stared at her, then slowly also knelt.
Pingzong stood to one side, looking at this scene in bewilderment. After a long while she suddenly understood, cried out “Ah!” and rushed forward with tears streaming, then stopped and turned to pull Jingxu.
“Go look! Go look!”
Jingxu glanced at Tie Ci and said: “Don’t make noise. Let her speak properly.”
Pingzong was thunderstruck.
Tie Ci smiled and said softly: “I have been unfilial, unable to leave heirs for the Tie imperial dynasty. After my death, the dynasty will have no succession, the realm will be difficult to continue. Father Emperor entrusted the realm to me, but I couldn’t fulfill his wishes to preserve the Tie imperial legacy for ten thousand years.”
“Your Majesty!”
Tie Ci waved her hand: “But actually, when has there ever been a ten-thousand-year dynasty? Throughout history, national fortunes last at most five hundred years, at least change in an instant. Since they’re all destined to fail in the hands of unworthy descendants anyway, there’s no need to be too obsessed.”
Di Yiwei and the others listened, feeling this was unheard of – they had never seen any emperor so broad-minded.
“Daqian’s future doesn’t necessarily need rule by one family name. Daqian has agreed to accept the Alliance. With the influx of large amounts of advanced technology and thought, sooner or later we’ll welcome a more enlightened and free era. Whether rulers will still be needed then is unknown.” Tie Ci took a breath and said: “But ultimately a transitional ruler is still needed… Murong, I’m entrusting my realm to you.”
She turned her head to look at Murong Yi and smiled: “You’re not allowed to refuse. This is my dowry.”
“I refuse,” Murong Yi said hoarsely. “I absolutely won’t allow you to abandon me. Do you remember what I said years ago? If one day you and I are separated, no matter what hardships and dangers, I will always pursue you, follow you, until you turn back.”
“You also said you would fulfill all my wishes,” Tie Ci gently stroked his face, her fingertips lingering on his features. “I’m sorry. From beginning to end, I put the realm and people first. A’yi… for me, for my realm, live on, all right?”
“No. Your people, your subjects – what do they have to do with me? Tie Ci, you know I’ve only ever wanted you… I’ve been harsh with officials to make it convenient for you to win them over later, ensuring smooth political transition; I’ve treated the people well to make them support me so they could better accept you and Daqian. I even kept the Three Dukes imprisoned, waiting for you to conquer Dafeng so they could serve you… I did all this, even enduring three accusations of treason and dozens of assassination attempts, and now you say you don’t want it?”
Tie Ci turned to Di Yiwei: “Did you hear? In the future, if court officials oppose Murong Yi as emperor, tell them that Dafeng never had rebellious intentions, that Dafeng actively wanted to return to Daqian, that Murong Yi would never mistreat Daqian. Tell them I was already Murong Yi’s person long ago – husband and wife are one body, my realm is his.”
Di Yiwei silently kowtowed.
Murong Yi knelt in the snow, holding her, murmuring in a daze: “I shouldn’t have seen you… I shouldn’t have seen you.”
Tie Ci embraced his shoulders and pressed her face against his cheek.
Her breath was almost nothing, not even stirring his temple hair, yet she was still struggling to find his lips. Murong Yi tilted his head slightly.
Tie Ci could no longer see, but following instinct, she found his lips and slowly pressed against them.
Attached to his lips, her voice was barely a whisper.
She said: “Don’t cry, A’yi.”
“This isn’t the curse of the oath… From beginning to end, you didn’t leave the country, you didn’t offer up Dafeng, you didn’t actively seek me out. It was I who came to see you, I who gave Daqian to you. Your father’s curse can’t reach me – this is just fate, just fate.”
“In this life, I’ve had many disappointments, yet in the end I’m deeply satisfied… because I loved you.”
“Always loved you.”
Finally she said: “From now on, I entrust everything to you, A’yi.”
Lips touching, their gentlest and most tender kiss.
Like snowflakes falling on winter’s last plum blossom, unafraid of disappearing, waiting for the next cycle of seasons.
She let out a satisfied sigh.
The tone long and light, reminiscent of frost flowers silently coating window frames on autumn nights.
When dawn breaks, they vanish without trace.
And dawn was breaking.
A ray of bright light, sword-like, pierced through the morning glow at heaven’s edge, reaching the center of the vast snowfield.
There were distant snow-covered coniferous forests.
Armies and common people who had rushed over upon hearing the news, kneeling across the ground.
Snow-covered, whitened rows of green armor.
Red flags quietly lowered.
Giant eagles crying mournfully in the vast sky, their spread wings blocking the shadows of snowy mountains.
Someone on the eagle’s back, facing the heavenly wind, looking up with tears streaming.
Silver-armored generals kneeling long in the snow, the heavenly wind blowing through empty sleeves, their expressions blank yet somehow filled with lifelong inexpressible regret.
People kneeling and embracing in the snow – one sleeping peacefully, one with ice-frosted lashes.
Blood-stained garments scattered across the pristine white, like blazing red lotuses blooming across the ground.
……
In the warm spring of March, when flowers bloomed beautifully.
Before Ruixiang Hall, vast expanses of white magnolias bloomed nobly and luxuriantly, clusters of snow-white petals peeking through the deep red palace gates inlaid with black gold studs, their thick, pure petals greeting visitors with subtle fragrance.
Sunlight passed over the palace gates inlaid with eighteen black gold studs, extending across courtyards and front halls, winding through bright wooden corridors, turning into small gardens, finally falling upon the innermost corner of the garden – a small shrine set apart.
The shrine housed ancestral tablets, their inscriptions hard to discern in the dim light.
Murong Yi stood before the ancestral tablet, gazing at it, suddenly saying: “A’zhao, come out. I can see your butt.”
Behind the ancestral tablet, a chubby little bottom shifted, reluctantly wiggling out.
Murong Yi snorted: “Hiding your head but not your rear – who do you take after?”
The child climbed up, patted the dust off his bottom, and said with a dirty face and pouting lips: “His father, obviously.”
His father laughed in exasperation, extending his arm. The child ran over and sat on Murong Yi’s arm. Father and son together looked at the ancestral tablet.
Murong Yi said: “Did you finish today’s lessons?”
“The term ‘lessons’ – unknown why Your Majesty would cruelly speak of such things,” the child said in a scholarly manner. “I have never heard of lessons for a two-year-old.”
“I was killing people at two,” Murong Yi said coldly. “What’s wrong with writing a few characters? If you don’t learn quickly to take the throne, who will liberate me?”
“There’s also science class! Philosophy class! Lego class! Martial arts class! Piano class! Drum class! Art class!” the child raged helplessly. “A few characters – how dare you say that!”
“How dare I? If you have the ability, call your mother to stop me!” Murong Yi seemed even more helplessly enraged.
A’zhao immediately shut up, tears welling in his eyes.
Murong Yi ignored him, carrying him like a hawk as they walked out. They met someone coming toward them. Upon seeing that person, A’zhao immediately beamed, stretching out his chubby little hands eagerly: “Master! Master! Come quickly, come save me!”
Rong Pu smiled and approached, bowing respectfully: “Your Majesty, Your Highness.”
A’zhao stretched hard to reach him: “Master, master, let’s go to Lego class.”
Rong Pu went to receive him, saying gently: “There’s no Lego class today, Your Highness.”
Before A’zhao’s face could fall, he continued: “But there’s art class today. We won’t paint in the palace – I’ll take you out for outdoor sketching, all right?”
“Good, good, good!” A’zhao cheered. “Let’s sketch at that building where Mother once broke someone’s leg!”
Murong Yi: “…Grand Scholar Rong seems quite free today. Have you finished reviewing all the memorials? Written all the summaries? Yuzhou hasn’t had rain for three months – there may be flooding this summer. Has the Grand Scholar made arrangements? Or perhaps Han Li Han Desert’s drinking water project has been officially completed – the court needs to send high officials for the ribbon-cutting ceremony. How about troubling you to make the trip?”
Rong Pu said calmly: “If Your Majesty deems it appropriate, I have no objections.”
Before Murong Yi could speak, A’zhao was already rolling on the ground: “Not appropriate! Not appropriate!”
Rong Pu smiled.
Send the Chief Minister of the Cabinet to cut ribbons in the desert?
Fine, as long as you don’t mind handling the mountain of accumulated memorials yourself after I leave.
And as long as you don’t fear your son constantly arguing with you with no one to intervene.
Murong Yi glanced at him, scooped A’zhao up from the ground, and perched him on his arm again: “What sketching? Father will take you shopping.”
A’zhao cheered and once again climbed up to dust himself off. He immediately forgot about Rong Pu, happily sitting on his father’s arm.
Rong Pu habitually turned to go work – this father and son pair both had the character trait of discarding people after using them. He was long accustomed to it.
Thus, he missed the honest Emperor even more.
The father and son walked out together. Officials they encountered along the way all respectfully greeted them, including several with different eye colors, features, and mannerisms who seemed particularly reserved.
These were Alliance people.
Last year, under Senior Brother’s supervision, the remaining scientists opened a relatively stable passage from the Alliance, signed peace agreements with Daqian, and after presenting Daqian with batches of important secret materials and the last of their stored precious metals, Murong Yi finally agreed to let Alliance people come over.
The Alliance had already been on the brink of collapse. The shot Duanmu threw back directly destroyed half the planet. There really weren’t many people left. Scientists were the relatively best-protected population and most had been deep underground at the time, managing to survive.
By then, even the most radical Alliance people no longer dared speak of plundering Daqian as a colony. They all anxiously waited to pass through the portal to barely survive in Daqian.
They did indeed bring the most advanced technology and civilization. Much of it couldn’t yet be implemented in Daqian – after all, one must eat one bite at a time – but their arrival made the Industrial Revolution inevitable. Commerce entered a period of rapid circulation, and agriculture improved even more dramatically. Improved seeds of various types, advanced farming tools, and series of improvements in agricultural fertilization and irrigation led to dramatic increases in yield per mu. When the first year’s yield came out, countless ministers wept with joy, exclaiming: “From now on, there will be no hunger in the world!”
Because of this, Alliance people finally gained a tiny bit of goodwill from Daqian’s people. They could leave the strictly managed special residential areas designated for them and participate in Daqian people’s lives, though each Alliance person was still under strict control and wore monitoring devices. But some Alliance people had already chosen to intermarry with Daqian people, so removing the monitoring devices didn’t seem far off.
Of course, having experienced severe trauma, Daqian wouldn’t easily lower its guard. Deep beneath the small shrine in Ruixiang Hall lay two silver-white cases – one was Yun Buci’s final bequest containing “Drum” and “Sweet Rain,” and one was the general’s case that Murong Yi had immediately seized from Xiao Ying, containing the remaining two “Naughty Boys.”
But everyone hoped Daqian would never need to use them.
Alliance people gradually integrated into Daqian. Some particularly outstanding ones with special contributions in scientific research even entered various government departments as practical officials – these were the ones Murong Yi was encountering now.
These excellent future people were very popular with Daqian women. After all, having been refined through layers of modern technology, they had natural genetic advantages. Those who could survive from the apocalyptic Alliance were inherently excellent. The Daqian court was happy to see this happen. The integration of ancient and modern bloodlines was itself a complex subject. Prince Yannan You Weixing was very interested in this and after entering the reformed Daqian Academy, specifically chose genetics as his major.
With the Alliance people’s arrival, medicine also advanced rapidly. Xiao Xueya’s lost hand was replaced with a prosthetic. The Marshal, being unconventional, didn’t want a prosthetic identical to a real hand – instead, he requested a steel one.
That hand gleamed brilliantly with its steel framework. Not only was it not terrifying, but it was extremely harmonious with Xiao Xueya’s lofty, snow-deep temperament and more advantageous in combat. It was said that since changing to this hand, even more young ladies admired the Marshal, so much so that many women joined the recruitment queues.
As early as the second year of Zhiming, Daqian had established women’s academies, allowing women to take imperial examinations and enter court. Now they even allowed women to enlist in the military. From Tie Ci to Murong Yi, they were step by step achieving gender equality.
Murong Yi had no fondness for those Alliance people, but since taking the throne, he had consistently tried to inherit Tie Ci’s governing style – Dafeng’s people could do as they pleased, but Daqian’s people were A’ci’s children and must be protected. So his style was trying hard to become benevolent, only occasionally unable to help showing some fierce expressions before his own son, but even that couldn’t last long because his son had too many pseudo-godparents: Rong Pu had entered the cabinet and was constantly under his nose, Qi Yuansi became Vice Minister of Works, Gu Xiaoxiao took over as Minister of Revenue, You Weixing requested to come to the capital for retirement, Di Yiwei had already returned for retirement, Chi Xue was now a first-rank grand female official, and Xiao Xueya constantly sent people to the capital bearing various intimidating gifts for the Prince. Dan Ye was forever tempting A’zhao to ride camels in the desert.
If A’zhao so much as cried out, the entire capital and even the whole realm could hear.
The constrained father Murong Yi carried his son out in civilian clothes, skipping the child’s classes and his own court sessions. By the time evening came and the palace gates were about to close, they finally returned leisurely under the little bug’s eager anticipation.
They returned carrying large and small packages, with even A’zhao struggling to drag a bundle.
The father and son were covered in sweat. They first went to the bathhouse to bathe, fighting in the pool and splashing water everywhere.
The palace servants were used to this and would clean up after they emerged.
Murong Yi skillfully pulled his reluctant son from the water, dried him off in two moves, tossed him a pull-up diaper. A’zhao put it on himself while Murong Yi quickly dressed him in a small bathrobe and put on only a white loose robe himself, bare chest and collarbones exposed. Beside him, A’zhao stuck out his round little belly, walking with exactly the same shuffling steps as his father.
The father and son swayed as they entered the sleeping chamber, completely ignoring the imperial feast laid out on three tables in the outer hall, grabbing the random snacks bought on the street and heading to the inner hall.
The inner hall was lit only with a few pearl lamps, light maintained at a warm but non-glaring level. No sleep-inducing sandalwood was burned – only several plates of fresh seasonal fruit with clear, enticing aromas were placed on tables. Gauze curtains hung before the canopy bed, with a figure sleeping dimly visible within.
As soon as A’zhao entered the hall, he instinctively moved carefully like a thief, earning a pat on his little bottom from Murong Yi.
“You’re a dignified Crown Prince – don’t act so furtively!”
A’zhao felt wronged: “I was afraid of waking her up…”
“I’m afraid she won’t wake up!” Murong Yi said irritably, shuffling in his slippers to sit by the bed and began fiddling with his pile of paper packages.
He opened a greasy paper package containing candied pig’s trotters that had long lost their candy coating, cold grease congealed on the skin, with a few pig hairs still visible.
A’zhao covered his nose and backed away.
Murong Yi shook the paper package and said to the person behind the curtains: “Look, I bought Sun the Pockmarked’s candied pig’s trotters. I heard children shouldn’t eat such fatty things as pig’s trotters – they might get stomach aches… Are you dissatisfied? Afraid A’zhao will get sick? Then hurry up and get up to hit me!”
No movement from behind the curtains.
Murong Yi didn’t mind.
Back then on the snowfield, her breath had faded as she willfully left him the realm.
He absolutely didn’t want to live alone, but Di Yiwei and others watched him constantly, guarding against all possibilities.
He couldn’t die, but Di Yiwei and others couldn’t collect Tie Ci’s body either.
He held Tie Ci in his arms, never leaving her side for a moment, always feeling she still had a thread of breath. He tried again and again, day and night without rest, until everyone thought he’d gone mad.
He said Tie Ci wasn’t decomposing; others said it was because the snowfield was too cold.
He said there was still breathing; others looked at him silently with pitying, tolerant eyes.
He didn’t care – if you won’t let me die, you can’t control my madness.
He repeatedly forced Jingxu to check Tie Ci’s pulse. At first Jingxu said nothing, later saying vital signs seemed not entirely gone, but all meridians in her body were completely shattered – there was really no possibility of survival.
But saying this too often became embarrassing, and everyone was embarrassed – he had held Tie Ci for over a month, and not only had she not decomposed, her complexion had improved.
Jingxu was so shocked after checking her pulse that his false teeth fell out – Tie Ci was pregnant.
Whether due to pregnancy or something else, the meridians in her body were slowly healing.
So he stopped trying to die and waited.
She slept too long – sleeping until her belly silently swelled, then unconsciously giving birth. During childbirth she nearly had a difficult labor, and they had to summon Alliance famous doctors to successfully assist the delivery. Now the child was two years old and she still wouldn’t wake up.
No one knew when she would awaken. Before dying, Sangtang had given Tie Ci his remaining internal energy, which could have helped her slowly digest it and protect her vital essence for a few more years. Who knew that in the end, Duanmu, whether from revenge or pity, would pour all his remaining life’s power into her.
As they say, when water is full it overflows, when the moon is full it wanes. Duanmu’s true force was extremely domineering – this infusion immediately shattered her already damaged meridians.
If she survived this trial, her chronic illness would be cured. If not, it would cost her life.
There was no precedent for this; the latter possibility was greater.
This was Duanmu’s revenge and also his compensation – it all depended on Tie Ci’s luck.
Tie Ci’s luck wasn’t bad.
Because in the final battle, the bullet Master shot into her body had pushed a precious medical injection into her.
It was the Alliance’s final supreme medical wisdom, theoretically capable of reconstructing meridians and repairing all internal injuries, but having just been successfully developed, its effects and side effects hadn’t been verified.
This was also Master’s revenge, or rather, compensation.
It still depended on fate.
Fate could be good or bad. Until now, Daqian still hadn’t waited for their true master to return. A’zhao had never seen his mother open her eyes. Murong Yi was still waiting for that call of “A’yi.”
Murong Yi sat by the bed, first checking that Tie Ci’s condition was good, then chatted with her: “We ran into Miaoci Society’s activities again – this time competing in poetry with Alliance poets. I don’t understand – one writes classical poetry, one writes foreign poetry – how do they compete?”
“The third edition of ‘Biography of the Great Emperor’ about you came out, supposedly written by an Alliance person. It’s selling so well paper is expensive in the capital. This guy writes romance exceptionally well, but some details are obviously ridiculous – like me offering myself as a pillow companion, when clearly it was you who offered yourself as a pillow companion that last time, right?”
“In the taverns they’re still talking about the grand scene when you returned from Han Li Han to the capital with people greeting you for a hundred li. They say the people’s tears that day could have saved Daqian from all future droughts. Really, they’ve been telling it for three years and still aren’t tired of it – neither the tellers nor the listeners are bored. You single-handedly supported all the storytellers in the capital. Remember to take a cut from them later. But speaking of which, there really were so many people that day. The carriage stopped at every step, every step, and the roadside earth was worn into pits by people kowtowing. Too bad you didn’t see it…”
“Portraits of you in the West Market are selling for higher and higher prices. It’s one thing for every family in the capital to enshrine them, but why are Alliance people joining in? You’re not even dead yet…”
He opened another paper package: “This is fried quail. A’zhao said he wanted to eat it. By the way, I remember he’s allergic to bird meat? Which bird meat? I can’t remember. I suppose one bite won’t hurt? Right?”
He shook the paper package. Seeing no movement from Tie Ci, he put it down.
He opened another package: “Fried beef patties, one wen each. Ha! Beef costs nearly a hundred wen per jin now. Such thick beef patties would need at least one liang of beef – one wen? You guess if it’s cat meat or dog meat inside? Here, A’zhao, why don’t you try it for your mother?”
As he spoke, he pushed the beef patty toward A’zhao’s mouth. A’zhao bit it and complained tearfully to his mother: “Mother, bad father is abusing me again…”
Mother ignored him.
A’zhao thought for a moment, then pulled out a richly fragrant handkerchief from his chest and pressed it against his mother’s nose: “Mother, Father wants to take a new empress. She came to show off in front of me today. I picked up her handkerchief – smell it, isn’t this our palace’s incense? Hurry up and wake up! You gave the realm to a heartless dog of a man, the dog man marries a new wife, lives in your palace, beats your son – can you really endure this?”
Murong Yi’s eyes lit up.
This little dog son’s scheme wasn’t bad.
Father and son stared eagerly at the sleeping figure on the bed.
As always, no movement whatsoever.
Apparently she didn’t mind husband-stealing or son-beating.
A’zhao wouldn’t give up, pulling out a purse: “Today on the street, another man composed poetry for Father. Women steal husbands, now men join in too. Mother, I ask you – are you afraid or not? Afraid or not!”
“…”
Murong Yi: …Your mother really isn’t afraid.
Getting no response, father and son were used to it. They sighed in unison but weren’t too disappointed, climbing onto the bed to sleep on either side.
Fine, if you won’t open your eyes, then don’t.
We’ll allow you to be proud.
The day was still bright, long days like water, as long as the person remained beside them.
Especially for Murong Yi, having experienced heart-rending, earth-shattering pain, he only wished to open his eyes and find her at his side – then he could endure for a long, long time.
With her there, there would be spring flowers and autumn moons, mountains and rivers continuing forever.
Murong Yi slept deeply, despite experiencing various disturbances from his son: blanket-stealing, kicking, leg-draping, and other tribulations.
After all, daytime brought endless political affairs, personally caring for his son, and personally tending to Tie Ci. Tie Ci had slept for years without even a bedsore.
To say he wasn’t tired would be false.
Moreover, he loved sleeping.
Only in dreams could he see again that vivid, bright Tie Ci who would fight, deceive, scold, but also embrace the world with a heart encompassing all four seas.
Only then could they reunite on the great sea, stroll by the academy lake, roast geese in the library tower, trek through Xi Rong’s desert, look toward tomorrow, turn to see rivers and mountains.
Only then could he place past events in settings, accompanying her through each one, enduring nights of lonely lamp-lit waiting, forgetting the disappointment of long waiting without arrival. When dawn broke bright, he could open his eyes with courage to face tomorrow.
He smiled in his dreams, murmuring: “…Mm, two men aren’t necessarily not intimate.”
He dreamed of beside Liuxiang Lake in Hehuan Forest, helping the male-disguised Tie Ci wash her hair.
Wind swept across the lake surface, lotus leaves spread like fields on the opposite shore, flowers sleeping beneath green plates, vines standing gracefully in blue water, mandarin ducks intertwining necks beneath the water’s surface and vines, swans with heads buried, deep red beaks emerging between snow feathers, clear sounds of rippling water, long hair black as satin spreading between fingers.
The atmosphere was so intimate, as if hidden everywhere were tender glances and inexpressible feelings.
But that time had already passed with bewilderment.
…Suddenly a familiar voice unheard for years pressed against his ear, saying sinisterly: “Speak! Which man?”
Murong Yi instantly returned from the boundary between confusion and wakefulness. Before he could speak or open his eyes, tears were already streaming down onto the hand at his neck.
He didn’t move, smiling through tears and whispering softly:
“You.”
……
Dawn broke again, turning among vermillion pillars and red eaves.
Climbing over bright corridors, crossing small gardens, passing through half-open shrine doors, touching the ancestral tablet on the altar.
Illuminating that row of gold characters on black background: “Spirit Tablet of My Master Yun Buci.”
The dawn light slowly passed over the ancestral tablet, through doors and rooms, over layers of rooftops and the morning’s straight, intersecting city roads, through deep, lengthy city gates. Wherever it passed, green grass flourished and flowers bloomed fragrantly.
Among the verdant grass and abundant flowers, embraced by mountains, was the capital’s newly built cemetery. White marble tombstones gleamed with warm luster in the sunlight, and spring breezes were gentle here.
Near Qingming Festival, people gradually came up the mountain to tend graves. Sunlight continued climbing, illuminating a tombstone atop the mountain. This tombstone was different from others – made entirely of white jade, like its owner who in life was pure as frost and snow, untainted by worldly dust.
Someone with early-graying temples played a flute before the stone, the melody cheerful – the dance tune he and she had danced to on Ghost Island.
Once in a lifetime.
Beside this tombstone stood another, carved in the shape of cherry blossoms, quite playful and lovely. Fresh flowers with dewy pearls now lay before it, rustling in the spring breeze.
Like a woman’s lively laughter.
Sunlight illuminated the capital and also Xi Rong. Han Li Han Desert was no longer desert – a thousand qing of fertile soil sowed with countless people’s laughter and hope.
Yet a hundred li in radius was bordered by hedges, within which grass swayed, dimly revealing a small courtyard.
Shepherds said this was a mysterious place where a pair of powerful demons were buried. So mortals were not permitted to approach.
This gave rise to many beautiful myths on the grassland.
Others said they weren’t demons but a pair of heroes who saved all of Daqian.
At the moment of heaven’s collapse, they supported the sky, tore through the firmament, and threw an extra blazing sun back to the stars.
People would argue briefly, look through the man-high grass at that courtyard empty for many years, then stop debating.
Heroes or demons, all would eventually return to dust.
Outside the hedge, in the crowd, a shepherd girl waved her whip to drive the flock, turning to look at that small courtyard.
She remembered that courtyard, remembered those two beautiful people. Later they suddenly disappeared, leaving only the small courtyard to age in flowing sunlight and years.
They must have gone to a very, very distant place.
But it didn’t matter – she would always remember.
The flock ran joyfully under sunlight, gradually disappearing into the distance.
The small courtyard gradually decayed in time. On the weathered steps, a bunch of wildflowers had appeared at some unknown time.
Sunlight gently covered them, bright present and ancient past coexisting.
(The End)
Author’s Postscript:
The complete book is finished. I don’t plan to write an afterword currently, nor do I have any schedule for a new book, because my contract with Xiaoxiang has expired, and my two books contracted with the group are both completed. All affairs are settled with no remaining concerns. Now I have gained precious freedom and plan to extend these free days as long as possible. What comes after – I won’t discuss plans or the future, leaving everything to time and opportunity.
Xiaoxiang is also about to undergo renovation, and everything seems to be drawing a period to over ten years of writing. Before the bustling crowds disperse, let me first bid farewell with no fixed return date. Thank you for accompanying me along this journey. May memories age but people remain young in future days, may old friends be gone but green mountains remain, may spring colors always be good, and waters broad with skies long.