The Quling River, winding through the city, carried fallen flowers as it rolled forward turbulently. Fine silk-like spring rain enveloped every hurried passerby. The rain was dense—reaching out, one seemed unable to touch the water, yet became covered in mist.
Xie Sui’an stood by the bridge, racking her brain to recall every detail about Xu Zhou over the past few days.
She hadn’t paid special attention to anything unusual these past days because each day was much the same. She too had been somewhat muddled, even losing her sense of time. In his spare time, he enjoyed painting, and she vaguely remembered he had been painting plum blossoms these past few days. He had wasted quite a lot of paper.
She seemed to remember something else… he was painting plums. This wasn’t particularly strange—scholars all favored plum blossoms that bloomed in bitter cold. He had casually mentioned that when hiding from Qi People searches in Hugui Mountain, they had passed through a plum grove. At that time, they had only glanced at it hurriedly before leaving, but if there was a chance in the future, he wanted to see it again.
He had only mentioned it casually, and she had just listened, thinking it was casual after-meal conversation, not even taking it to heart. Some details became clearer in her memory—she recalled that when speaking, Xu Zhou’s eyes held some melancholy.
There happened to be a ferry in Tongji Ward that could reach Hugui Mountain… A vague suspicion arose in Xie Sui’an’s heart. He wouldn’t have gone to the mountains, would he?
Xie Sui’an immediately decided to go to Hugui Mountain, leaving Nanyi to continue observing the situation in the city. If she found him, she would signal to notify Nanyi.
Fortunately, Xie Sui’an guessed correctly.
Xu Zhou had just set foot on Hugui Mountain when Xie Sui’an followed, intercepting him at a pavilion near the ferry.
Peach trees by the pavilion had bloomed, several branches extending diagonally into the pavilion. The faint floral fragrance lingered around them, becoming even more aromatic mixed with the fine rain.
The mountain’s spring scenery was pleasant, but there was no one to appreciate the beautiful view.
The two stood facing each other, tacitly falling silent for a moment.
After all, this was the monarch. Even though Xie Sui’an was angry inside, she couldn’t show it on her face.
“Your Highness, please return with me.”
Xu Zhou looked somewhat uncomfortable, like a child who had done something wrong, but still stubbornly insisted: “I don’t want to go back yet.”
Xie Sui’an took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the anger that had risen to her lips, trying to speak reasonably: “Does Your Highness plan never to return, to become a wild man in the mountains?”
“Just today.”
“What does Your Highness want to do?”
“Don’t I even have the freedom to do what I want to do?”
“Do you know how many people in the city are worried sick about you because of your willful departure?!” Xie Sui’an finally couldn’t hold back, her voice rising several degrees.
“I wasn’t discovered, was I? Can’t you pretend not to know and give me this one day?”
“One day? Do you know what variables could occur in a single day? To get you into the city, Pang Yu died, my elder brother died, and those brave men neither you nor I knew—yet here you are, running back to Hugui Mountain yourself. Are you afraid the Qi People’s eyes are too blind, so you’re eagerly delivering yourself to them?”
These were all people closest to her, but she had never mentioned them to him because they were also her deepest wounds. But at this moment, in her fury, even to defend their righteous cause, she had to scold him thoroughly.
Xu Zhou knew he was in the wrong. Hearing the scolding, he hung his head lower and lower.
Initially, Xu Zhou’s mind was always filled with unrealistic fantasies. He fantasized about suddenly gaining divine power overnight, killing gods and Buddhas alike. He would wear kingly armor, lead his people to fight their way out in blood, intimidate all directions, and restore heavenly might… Then these fantasies gradually shattered as the people protecting him died one by one while he remained powerless. He began to wonder why heaven had chosen someone like him to be monarch.
He wasn’t strong enough; he couldn’t protect his subjects. This was a monarch’s original sin.
He felt unworthy of his position, living in constant fear. Between wanting to do something and being unable to do anything, he was about to be torn apart.
“Yes, it’s all my fault… I’m sorry to these people,” Xu Zhou said with lowered eyes, his voice quiet, even carrying a tone of disheartened resignation, “If I were caught by the Qi People, everyone could be freed.”
For a moment, Xie Sui’an couldn’t respond. She felt sad, angry, and somewhat powerless—like desperately rowing with all her might in the middle of water, only to discover the person beside her wasn’t working in harmony, leaving the small boat spinning in place.
She couldn’t accept this. Her stubborn temper flared as she stared at Xu Zhou, her expression cold as frost: “Say that again.”
Xu Zhou didn’t look at Xie Sui’an, his gaze fixed only on the flower branches behind her: “I said, even if I were caught and died, you could find someone similar to me, claim he was Xu Zhou, and support him as emperor. Wouldn’t that be the same?”
What shocking and scandalous words were these? How dare he, how could he say such things?
Slap—Xie Sui’an, in extreme anger, struck Xu Zhou across the face.
“Then why not just eliminate the old dynasty’s ministers and establish a new dynasty? After all, it’s the same land, the same people—what difference does it make who rules? What are we still fighting for?—If we keep yielding and compromising, our backbone goes soft first. How can we stand up later!”
Xie Sui’an hadn’t controlled the force of her hand at all. Xu Zhou was somewhat stunned by the blow. His head buzzed, but her words echoed in his mind without missing a word, deafeningly clear.
The surroundings were extremely quiet. He felt his cheek burning with pain as blood rushed to his head, but this pain also cleared his mind. His muddled senses became sharp again. He suddenly smelled the crisp air mixed with earth and new shoots. Every blade of grass and tree under these mountains seemed to silently mock him at this moment.
He was overwhelmed with shame.
He had allowed his mortal part to collapse first, knowing full well this wasn’t his cage alone, but everyone’s cage.
They were all pieces within the boundaries of the Chu River, with soldiers, ministers, chariots, horses, cannons, and pawns taking turns to advance, wave after wave. Though the general might be trapped within inches, he determined life and death in the game. Unless they fought to the last person, he had to firmly hold his position.
The world divided and united; dynasties would eventually perish. People lived only decades, and even the most ardently pursued things would ultimately turn to dust and ash. But this didn’t mean everything done now was meaningless. Future generations would emulate, comment, and live by comparing themselves to their predecessors’ backbone.
People lived day by day, but also for each single day.
What they were willing to defend with their lives was an order, a spirit. Most importantly, ministers should keep ministerial integrity, and monarchs should follow the kingly way. His subjects didn’t merely regard him as a symbol but hoped he would become a good monarch, reclaiming the lost mountains and rivers inch by inch.
These things seemed ethereal, yet they were enough to support the loyalty of all people under heaven.
He didn’t know how long he stood there in silence. For some reason, he remembered sneaking to outside the morning court hall in childhood, glimpsing the ministers standing in formation inside while the monarch sat in the high hall, solemn and stern. Someday… such a scene would appear again. He was no longer the child outside the door. He had to walk step by step to the peak of the mountains. Even if he stepped on the white bones of his ministers, he had to move forward, then tell the world what had happened in the darkness.
However, seeing Xu Zhou remain silent for so long, though Xie Sui’an maintained her stubborn defiant posture, her anger gradually subsided and her heart began to pound. She shouldn’t have struck the king… She began to regret—how could this situation be resolved?
Just then, Xu Zhou suddenly looked up. Xie Sui’an was startled and her knees weakened as she prepared to kneel and beg forgiveness. She still needed to give the monarch a way to save face.
“I was wrong.”
“I was wrong.”
Both spoke in unison, then both looked stunned.
Xu Zhou bent down to help Xie Sui’an up, saying seriously: “If you kneel to me again, I really won’t be able to face myself.”
Xie Sui’an was somewhat surprised. She hadn’t expected Xu Zhou to apologize proactively in such an awkward situation. She responded better to soft approaches than hard ones, showing some guilt on her face.
She also knew that being confined to one place for three months was like imprisonment—anyone would go mad. That Xu Zhou had suppressed himself until today before exploding was already quite remarkable.
After rising, Xie Sui’an’s tone was noticeably gentler: “Whatever Your Highness wants to do, I’ll accompany you. But before dark, we must return to Wangxue Cottage.”
Xu Zhou’s gaze slowly moved back to Xie Sui’an, his eyes filled with mixed emotions, as if hesitating whether to speak. After a long while, he finally spoke quietly about today’s purpose: “Today is the Cold Food Festival. I wanted to find a plum grove to establish a cenotaph for Pang Zixu… He died in the wilderness with no one to burn paper money for him. I don’t know if he can find his way on the road to the underworld.”
Xie Sui’an opened her mouth but seemed to have lost her voice, unable to produce even a syllable.
A few days ago, Song Muchuan had secretly passed her a confidential letter saying that Xie Queshan had buried Pang Yu’s remains in a plum grove on Hugui Mountain. He was preparing to go pay respects, and if she was willing to join, he would arrange it.
But Xie Sui’an had pretended not to see the letter and sent no response. She didn’t want to pay respects to Pang Yu. These rituals forced her to acknowledge that Pang Yu was truly dead, but she just wasn’t willing to face it.
But Xu Zhou’s words made Xie Sui’an realize—what if… the departed soul had been wandering, waiting for them?
Pang Yu, did you see it? The monarch’s sincere heart.
……
In Hugui Mountain, there was only one plum grove. Now the plum blossoms had all fallen, petals covering the ground—the bottom layer already rotted while the newly fallen ones remained delicate.
New tear stains pressed over old tear stains; the heartbroken remembered the heartbroken.
That small mound of earth had a new tombstone with only “Beloved Friend’s Grave” carved on it, but no one’s name. Someone had come to pay respects not long ago—the weeds before the tomb had been cleared and a jar of fresh wine was placed there.
Xu Zhou placed the plum branch painting he had brought into a fire basin to burn.
Pang Yu was the best person in the world. He had come under orders to escort him—they had only met the previous year. Originally he had brought a hundred-man team, but during their escape, some were annihilated by the Qi People, others captured, until only a few remaining officers were left. When he felt hopeless, it was Pang Yu who led him through to find a thread of survival.
Privately, he was a gentle person who understood his fears and always chatted with him.
Pang Yu had honestly told him that his fondness for plum blossoms was just pretentious elegance. Long ago, he had two good friends whose casual plum-praising poems could be sung throughout Bianjing. Being slightly inferior in literary talent, he would study by lamplight at night, composing a hundred plum poems and selecting the best one, yet it still couldn’t compare to theirs.
He hadn’t felt unconvinced because, compared to plum blossoms, what he loved most was still that young lady.
He was a gentleman who bloomed hope amid bitter cold. A gentleman loves one person and also loves all things. A gentleman is like plum blossoms.
Neither spoke; it was so quiet they could hear the sound of flames licking paper. After a long while, Xu Zhou glanced sideways to see tears silently streaming down Xie Sui’an’s face.
His heart ached, and the tears he had held back for so long also fell.
“Xie Xiaoliu, I kind of hate you.”
Xie Sui’an came back to her senses, slightly puzzled.
“You insisted on taking Pang Yu’s place… Every time I see you, I think of him.”
Xie Sui’an wiped away her tears and said stubbornly: “Then I must stick to you like a shadow, making you remember him at all times, remember these people who died for you. They are the wronged souls you must carry until you become a good monarch.”