No matter how Bao Zhu jumped and cursed, the mysterious assassin who had eliminated the attackers never showed himself.

Huo Qi Lang secretly thought how dangerous it had been. After using her internal energy to sustain Li Yuanying’s life, her martial skills had declined considerably, and her vigilance had dropped along with it. If not for Wei Da secretly keeping watch, those five skilled fighters would have finished off both siblings in one sweep. At the same time, she secretly felt grateful she hadn’t actually tried to seduce the princess—otherwise she would have been dealt with by Wei Da before the assassins, which was quite frightening to think about.

The assassin attack made Madam Li suspect there was a traitor in the palace.

However, neither sibling thought so. Although Huo Qi Lang couldn’t decapitate enemies and vanish without trace like the Blue Shirt Guest, killing five people at once was still easy work for her.

The siblings’ drinking session was a last-minute decision deep in the night. If there were a traitor, the assassination should have been arranged during Huo Qi Lang’s regular ten-day rest period, executed when she left the palace for recreation—that would have been more secure.

But regardless, having assassins meant enemies could no longer restrain themselves. Without inside traitors, there were certainly informants stationed within Youzhou city.

“If it were the emperor, he would first attempt to directly send eunuchs to grant death. When the sovereign demands a subject’s death, when a father demands a son’s death, as a son and subject, I have no reason to refuse. Or more prudently, summon me back to Chang’an before granting death. Deposed Crown Prince Li Chengyuan and Prince Wei Li Yuanchai are the likely masterminds. The emperor’s grave illness being difficult to recover from seems to be common knowledge.”

Li Yuanying told his trusted followers: “We should also depart.”

Because Wei Xun had faked death and made a surprise appearance yet refused to come out and acknowledge her, Bao Zhu was upset and confused. But with great undertakings ahead involving many people, she couldn’t afford these romantic concerns. She had to forcibly suppress her tangled thoughts and return to prepare her most reliable bow, arrows, and travel pack.

On the night before departure, Li Yuanying didn’t hurry to change clothes but dressed properly and solemnly informed Huo Qi Lang that he and his sister were returning to Chang’an to stage their uprising, explaining various affairs after his departure.

“After I set out, you’ll disguise yourself as me and continue presiding over Youzhou’s government affairs. You only need to let palace personnel and staff advisors see that I remain in position. No need to act or speak—Madam Li will arrange everything.”

Huo Qi Lang rested her face on one hand and blinked. “So this is the final mission?”

“Yes. The journey takes about a month, and a messenger’s return trip is also a month. At most two and a half months later, the results will reach Youzhou.”

Li Yuanying’s tone was grave. “If you hear I failed, immediately mount Jade Bridle Dun and flee north. Don’t carry any money or possessions—external things will only slow you down. Cross the border into Khitan or Xi territory, and there won’t be any pursuers. Once in barbarian lands, sell the horse—as long as you don’t indulge in gambling, it’s enough for a lifetime.”

Huo Qi Lang was startled and said in surprise: “Jade Bridle Dun? You’re giving me your heir?”

“It’s just a horse whose purpose is riding and traveling. I can’t ride anymore, so keeping it is useless.”

Li Yuanying continued: “If you hear of success, your mission ends there. You can remove your disguise and leave—I’ll send a new military governor to control Youzhou.” He paused, his Adam’s apple moving as if gathering strength to say what came next. “When that time comes… when that time comes…”

When that time comes, ride Jade Bridle Dun and come find me in Chang’an.

Come to Chang’an and find me.

This phrase lingered in his mouth, brewing for a long time, like a wild plum both sour and astringent—couldn’t be swallowed, didn’t want to spit out.

In that magnificent cage, there was no place for someone unrestrained and free. Moreover, his time was limited—haggard and withered, he would probably soon lose what attracted her. Separating when disgust arose wouldn’t be dignified. He had already gambled everything and shouldn’t be greedy enough to want to control the wind’s direction. When it was time to let go, he must let go.

After a long silence, Li Yuanying lowered his eyes and said slowly: “When that time comes, ride Jade Bridle Dun and go wherever you wish.”

Huo Qi Lang held her face while gazing at him, equally silent for a long time.

“Have you never parted with anyone before?”

From his awkward expression, she easily got her answer. Huo Qi Lang couldn’t help but laugh: “I’ll teach you how.”

She leaned over, opened her arms to embrace him, foreheads touching, gently caressing his beautiful lips with her fingertips.

“At times like this, there’s no need to say anything.” She whispered tenderly, then kissed him deeply.

“People rarely meet in life, moving like distant stars. What evening is this evening, sharing this lamplight.” That night, many couldn’t sleep.

At dawn departure, Li Yuanying shared a simple carriage with Madam Yu, while Bao Zhu rode a fine horse from Chengde.

Li Yuanying glanced at Bao Zhu’s mount and asked: “Not planning to ride your precious donkey?”

“This is different from when I came. We’ll be making forced marches day and night, changing horses many times along the way. I can’t bear to work Mount Lu to death.” Bao Zhu asked in return: “Didn’t brother also not bring Jade Bridle Dun?”

Li Yuanying smiled, his gaze falling on the distance: “Yes, I also can’t bear for her to die.”

With Madam Yu’s support, he boarded the carriage and quietly departed the Youzhou stronghold with his sister’s group. An hour later, the spirited Youzhou Governor, “Prince Shao,” began a new day of government affairs.

In succession struggles, the person must first return to the center of power. Since the Tang’s founding, no prince residing elsewhere had ever successfully inherited the throne.

The journey was long—even for someone in perfect health, the continuous travel would be quite arduous. To ensure the sickly Li Yuanying could safely reach Chang’an, the two wet nurses devised ways to cushion the carriage. They wrapped the wheels in thick felt and laid multiple layers of silk quilts inside the carriage, so even during rapid galloping, he could rest inside.

On Bao Zhu’s journey to Youzhou, she had been protected by others. Returning by the same route, she had to personally plan the route and lead guards to protect her brother. “The cold dreams trace the path we came, gradually seeing clouds part to reveal distant mountains.” In a blink, a month hurried past.

The harsh winter that thin-clothed poor people detested had finally passed. Another year brought spring’s return to earth—scholar trees throughout Chang’an began sprouting emerald tender buds, all things renewed, thriving vigorously.

Inside Daming Palace, however, was an atmosphere of desolation.

The emperor’s end was near—this was an open secret. Every emperor claimed to be a true dragon son of heaven, with the imperial seal engraved “Mandated by Heaven, long life and lasting prosperity,” yet in the end their lifespan differed little from ordinary mortals.

No matter how court officials advised, the emperor remained reluctant to enthrone a new crown prince. In recent days, he had even retrieved the seals from the Secretariat’s Seal Bearer and kept them with him at all times. Those who had tasted power’s flavor wouldn’t willingly relinquish their authority even at death’s door. The closer to death, the tighter they grasped.

Inside the sleeping chamber, smoke and mist swirled while lamp shadows flickered bright and dim like a Penglai fairyland illusion. Taoist masters used sandalwood to arrange complex, incomprehensible magical spell formations on the floor to prevent ghostly interference. Years of anxiety and fear, plus erosion from elixirs, had finally broken down his constitution.

The emperor, gravely ill and bedridden, lay on the imperial couch gasping and thinking.

He had once established his eldest son as crown prince, but Li Chengyuan acted recklessly and perversely, earning universal contempt from court and country. He had also placed high hopes on his intelligent and capable second son Li Yuanying, but the prophecy “spreading throughout the palace and transmitted across the realm” had eliminated his intention to pass the throne. Third son Li Yuanchai was stupid and rash, unfit for great responsibility. The remaining sons were still young.

He had once had other children—boys and girls—all died in that military coup that unexpectedly brought him the throne. Now he couldn’t even remember their names or faces.

Ultimately, it would probably be the military eunuchs selecting someone satisfactory to them—the weak, docile type easy to control, just like himself. But that would all happen after his death, irrelevant once his eyes closed.

“Someone…” the emperor unconsciously mumbled.

He wasn’t thirsty or hungry, just uncomfortable all over, needing to exercise that omnipotent magical power, using meaningless charges to punish some people and make others tremble, thereby gaining some fleeting spiritual comfort like a final radiance.

This past month, he had beaten to death over ten personal attendant eunuchs. Unpredictable moods and unfathomable authority were imperial prerogatives. This power was more addictive than elixirs, impossible to quit.

His turbid, parched voice echoed in the empty sleeping chamber, but no one answered.

“Cough cough… someone!” the emperor called again. Anger suddenly rose—he planned to execute one or two more people to punish their slowness and stupidity.

A red shadow entered the sleeping chamber.

She walked with elegant steps, easily stepping over the exorcism incense medicine formation, her crimson silk dress swaying in the wind.

A pomegranate skirt.

The emperor’s turbid, yellowed pupils contracted. He had clearly strictly forbidden this…

The beautiful woman in the pomegranate skirt had approached closely—cloud-like hair in a high coiffure, celestial beauty. Under heaven, no woman could match even half her radiance.

“Bianzhen?” the emperor murmured her name.

She didn’t answer but gracefully sat beside the imperial couch, silently gazing at him.

Eight years had passed. The emperor had used every means to eliminate the shadow this woman left, yet at this moment, she still came to his side with such disregard for others.

Strangely, he felt no fear. Perhaps because she wasn’t the blood-bathed vengeful spirit of his imagination but maintained her living appearance of brilliant beauty.

“Bianzhen, you’ve grown thin.” The emperor could no longer distinguish whether this was dream or deathbed hallucination.

This had been his most beloved woman, his wife who depended on him during their escape, the mother who bore him three children, the only consort to enjoy empress honors. She brought supreme love and beauty, as well as the deepest terror and regret.

“I’ve also grown old. Have you come to take me to heaven?” the emperor asked.

The woman remained silent. She observed him expressionlessly for a long time, then took out two scrolls of documents, unrolling one. Next, she searched the emperor for the jade seal and directly placed it in his hand.

The emperor’s vision was blurred—he could barely make out the first few large characters: “Edict Establishing the Crown Prince.”

He understood: she wanted him to use the jade seal to stamp this scroll.

“You came for Yuanying… Little Fox, my son, you want him to be crown prince.” The emperor grew somewhat excited, recalling the most important omen of his life—that white fox glowing in the night, followed by the beauty’s return, the birth of his heir, his attainment of the supreme throne. Everything was heavenly mandate.

“That’s right, he’s your and my child. I shouldn’t have doubted… it’s all the fault of treacherous advisors’ provocations!”

The red-clothed woman pressed his hand, dipped it in vermillion, and stamped the seal at the document’s end.

“I’m making Yuanying crown prince. You forgive me, don’t you? I was just temporarily confused… you’re still my greatest love. After Yuanyi, not a single newborn was born in Daming Palace.” The emperor tremblingly explained.

Only the weak need to justify themselves. The emperor instinctively realized that when entering the other world, this red-clothed woman’s power would far exceed his—worldly authority couldn’t match the netherworld’s impermanence. In an instant, his mindset fell from dominance to a weak position.

The woman paid no attention. She rolled up the “Crown Prince Establishment Edict” and unrolled another document, clearly inscribed with the two characters “Final Edict.”

The emperor suddenly panicked. He detested these two words—this was a dead man’s document. He didn’t want to die, didn’t want to hand over the jade seal to someone else.

But the woman’s strength far exceeded his. She forcibly pressed the emperor’s aging hand to stamp the final edict. Under the flickering candlelight of the five-clawed golden dragon lamp, the vermillion seal on the edict gleamed with dark red blood-light.

“I cannot forgive you on mother’s behalf. However, there is one person—you can ask her directly whether she forgives you.” She finally spoke, yet her voice was a man’s.

Stepping through the night, a second woman entered the sleeping chamber.

The newcomer wore burial garments used for the deceased’s funeral, with a twelve-strand flower tree headdress. Her face and makeup couldn’t be seen clearly because she wore a sinister, terrifying demon mask.

The emperor’s scalp suddenly tingled, body hair standing on end as bone-chilling extreme fear once again invaded his heart.

From behind the fierce four-eyed mask came his beloved daughter’s familiar greeting: “Father, I’m still alive. Why were you so eager to bury me?”

The emperor couldn’t answer this question. A thick phlegm surged up his throat. He wheezed and gasped, the nightmare before his eyes gradually fading into darkness.

Author’s Note: “People rarely meet in life, moving like distant stars”—from Du Fu’s “Gift to Wei Ba the Recluse.” Still, the Poetry Saint’s original is classic.

“Tracing the path we came” uses Su Shi’s allusion in five characters. I’m at a loss for words—really couldn’t think of poetry that fits the era.