Behind the pile of broken stones was shockingly a dried corpse. The corpse appeared to be an elderly man, well-preserved, even his expression at death lifelike.
But this wasn’t what startled Feng Zhiwei.
At the corpse’s feet lay another tiny body, already shriveled to the size of a man’s palm—it was an infant.
Here the earth’s qi was cold, ice and snow everywhere. Both large and small corpses hadn’t decayed. One could still vaguely see the guilty, regretful expression on the man’s face, and the child’s small mouth open, as if still crying loudly even unto death.
Feng Zhiwei stared directly at these two eerie corpses. A chill suddenly surged in her heart. On this rarely-visited absolute peak, if some skilled hunter had accidentally intruded and died here, that wouldn’t be unusual. But such an old man and infant together was absolutely no coincidence.
Even more shocking was that the bundle wrapping the child hadn’t decayed either. Through the ice and snow showed a corner of bright yellow. Feng Zhiwei crouched down and turned it over—on the bright yellow brocade was embroidered a five-clawed golden dragon.
Her fingers froze there. She only felt coldness reaching straight to her heart.
Gu Nanyi was also looking at those two corpses. Suddenly he used his foot to push aside the scattered stones on the ground.
Beneath the scattered stones emerged writing, clearly inscribed by the old man’s finger. Obviously when the old man wrote these characters he was already at lamp’s end and oil exhausted. The earlier characters were still strong and forceful, cutting three-tenths into stone. Toward the end, they were blurred and illegible, almost unrecognizable.
“Thirteenth year of the Late Emperor, on a stormy night, an old acquaintance came carrying a vermilion document, entrusted this child, whereupon I accepted and departed the valley, heading toward the Imperial Couple’s Cave at the snow mountain. Midway through the journey, this child’s breathing gradually weakened. Despite my day and night gallop, ultimately I could not save him—such regret! Yet suddenly I felt my internal breath unsmooth, unknowingly severe poison had already entered my body…”
This section of writing was still fairly clear. Beyond it the brush strokes were blurred, vaguely appearing to describe events of that stormy night.
“…Originally intended to raise this child, inherit the mantle, unexpectedly met this calamity. The Sacred Spirit lineage, unexpectedly cut off at this old man, ashamed to face the master’s sect in the underworld… After the old acquaintance sent this child, heard he also met pursuit and death. Pity this iron-blooded loyal righteous lineage, cut off at the dynasty’s collapse, perishing with the nation…”
Feng Zhiwei read this passage back and forth three times. She already understood what this described.
Over twenty years ago on a stormy night, Xue Futu traveled a thousand li carrying the imperial heir seeking a savior. Ultimately due to betrayal by a traitor, he foundered in the secret valley. Thus came herself bearing heavy burdens afterward, came Gu Nanyi who lost father and uncle drifting through jianghu. She’d heard this old story from Zong Chen. But in this story, two key figures—no one knew their whereabouts: that valley master who lived in the deep valley for generations, constantly waiting to rescue the last generation’s imperial heir, and that child who was disguised as the imperial heir, tricking the valley master into leaving before the real imperial heir arrived, leading to the subsequent series of changes.
So the answer was here.
The valley master had taken away the child. That child had illness (or poison?) in his body. Before long he died. At this time the valley master discovered he too was poisoned. Climbing the snow mountain, his lamp ran dry and oil exhausted. Even before death he still regretted not completing the task entrusted through generations.
Right until death, he never realized he’d fallen into another’s trap.
Feng Zhiwei crouched before that section of writing, examining that passage carefully again and again. In her heart gradually surfaced some doubts.
“Old acquaintance came carrying vermilion document.” The “old acquaintance” here—understanding it as the old acquaintance from Xue Futu of Great Cheng in the generations-old promise made sense. But couldn’t there be another explanation—the “old acquaintance” here truly was an old acquaintance, someone the valley master had previously met?
If not a reliable, trusted person, how could the valley master so easily receive the bundle and immediately depart? Unquestioningly believe in the imperial heir’s identity?
If not a previously-met trusted person, how could he, after the imperial heir inexplicably died and he himself was severely poisoned, still not suspect that person who sent the child?
The reason for not suspecting was because “After the old acquaintance sent this child, heard he also met pursuit and death.” This sentence was rather strange. That night of Xue Futu, before the leader sent the imperial heir, everyone had either already died or was trapped in enemy formations about to die. Logically, the death news the valley master could hear should be the death of the Xue Futu leader who later sent the real imperial heir but was surrounded and killed. Then did “old acquaintance” refer to the Xue Futu leader? Her adoptive father and Nanyi’s uncle? If it was him, the valley master’s unquestioning belief could be explained. But in fact, adoptive father couldn’t possibly have had the art of being in two places that night, sending two children one after another.
Feng Zhiwei pondered that passage. She herself felt confused and unclear. Back then the sequence of Xue Futu turning back to intercept pursuers was Old Shi, San Hu, Gu Yan, Zhan Xuyao. Finally only the leader Gu Heng remained alone. He carried the imperial heir alone, rushing through mountain forests for less than one hour, found the mountain valley—then discovered it empty, encountered ambush.
If the traitor was among the first four, then necessarily only during the time Gu Heng traveled alone could they have used a shortcut to send ahead the already-poisoned child.
Who was it?
Unfortunately, the old man’s description of that night’s key events was blurred and unclear. Feng Zhiwei sighed, saying, “Let them rest in peace.”
Right there in the hard ice and snow they dug a pit, buried the two. Holding the child to bury in the grave pit, Feng Zhiwei closed her eyes, silently saying “I’m sorry.”
Unknown whose child this was, seized to become a sacrificial victim in this imperial conspiracy. He too had once been born through difficulty by a hardworking mother. He too had once been held in arms by joyful parents, teased and coaxed. Yet such young life so brief—he died in her place.
Ice and snow silently fell, thus concluding two missing figures from an unsolved case.
Feng Zhiwei bowed three times before the grave. Turning back, she silently looked at the door behind that stone heart. Here should be the Imperial Couple’s Cave the valley master mentioned. This person was of the Sacred Spirit lineage—that is, the second of the Ten Greats who moved heaven and earth six hundred years ago, the Sacred Spirit. Legendary master’s sect of Great Cheng’s Divine Eagle Empress. As long as she found the method to open this door, the peerless Sacred Spirit martial arts would be within easy reach.
Yet after gazing long, she only laughed lightly.
“Nanyi.” She turned to ask the thoughtful Gu Nanyi. “Do you want to learn more profound martial arts?”
Gu Nanyi resolutely shook his head, telling her, “I’m number one in the world.”
Feng Zhiwei made an affirmative sound, hands behind back in the wind. After a long while she said lightly, “What does it matter to practice peerless martial arts? In this world, the most powerful thing, forever is only fate.”
Then she resolutely turned around, pulling Gu Nanyi, back toward that door, passing through the stone heart returning to the lakeside.
The two didn’t speak again, leaning against the lakeside mountain stones, quietly watching this moment’s heavenly light reflected in lake waters and mountain colors. Watching the snow mountain ice lake under sunlight brilliantly crystalline. Come evening, the moon leisurely floated up. At water’s edge spread an icy-clear glazed color. In deep blue and plain white, dark blue sky pressed down heavily.
In the silence, Gu Nanyi suddenly said, “…Hua Qiong sent a letter…”
“Shh, don’t speak, don’t speak.” Feng Zhiwei raised a hand, gently pressing his lips. “…Don’t let those turbid world’s bloody matters pollute this world’s last pure land…”
The surroundings sank into silence again. They heard each other’s high and low breathing. At this moment the mortal world was far, heaven and earth broad, while blood and fire were beyond the mountain ranges.
Much, much later, beneath ice and snow and beneath ten thousand zhang of sky, they heard from deep in cloudy heavens at the world’s edge, whose voice vast and ethereal sang eternal, undying long notes.
After descending from the snow mountain, Feng Zhiwei’s life temporarily returned to normal. Secret guards sent to investigate Luojiao Mountain already had reports. In the cave where Xin Ziyan had stayed that day, they discovered some ash piles buried with earth. In the ash piles were a woman’s scented handkerchief not completely burned.
That day when Imperial Consort Qing hurriedly returned to the palace, her female subordinates handled all traces. Women’s miscellaneous belongings were many, particular too. The one who used her own handkerchief to wipe Xin Ziyan’s face—naturally the soiled handkerchief she wouldn’t use again, casually tossed in the fire pile to burn. Yet it wasn’t completely burned. The remnant bit of fabric was found by the meticulous Xue Futu secret guards. Comparing the fabric, they recognized it as the Jianghuai green silk most popular among pleasure quarter women during that period. When the news came, Feng Zhiwei immediately thought of Lanxiang Pavilion, thought of Yin’er who placed Imperial Consort Qing’s child into her arms, thought of Imperial Consort Qing.
This Emperor Tiansheng’s favored consort born from dancers—her underground power was pleasure quarter women?
Feng Zhiwei had to admire Imperial Consort Qing. No one would imagine the imperially precious and favored consort secretly led a group of seductively-gazing prostitutes. But under heaven, what was more complex than pleasure quarters, received more officials, could contact more various useful information?
Which official didn’t visit brothels? Which official didn’t conduct business in pleasure quarters? Which high official’s mansion didn’t have concubines born from pleasure quarters?
Feng Zhiwei toyed with that bit of silk handkerchief ash, lips revealing a trace of cold smile.
She’d already read Hua Qiong’s letter. Hua Qiong, who had extremely good relations with Helian Zheng, wrote a letter simple yet brimming with killing intent.
“All matters prepared. Can strike!”
Short six characters spoke all determination.
Tiansheng’s hierarchical system was strict, taxes extremely heavy. The common people already couldn’t bear the burden. These years they’d been constantly trapped in warfare. Exhausting military force, to support army provisions, provinces near war zones were exploited and oppressed extremely heavily. On one hand, Hua Qiong in the Ten Thousand Great Mountains together with Qi Shaojun’s former Huofeng troops, Hang Ming’s Hang Family Army, Xue Futu subordinates gathered from various lands of the meeting nation, intensified military training. On the other hand, following Hang Ming’s suggestion, established the ‘Qingyang Sect,’ worshipping Qingyang Patriarch, claiming “Under Qingyang, all living beings can be nurtured.” Also quietly spread rumors in several southern circuits: “Qingyang Patriarch said Tiansheng’s nation-founding timing was inauspicious, illuminated by the Army-Breaking star, perishing in one generation. The true dragon Son of Heaven rises in the southern lands, will ultimately bring grace throughout the world.” In just a few months, sect followers reached one hundred thousand.
The more unstable the era, the more people’s hearts stirred, most needing divine authority for comfort, to seek a bit of redemption and hope in unbearably burdensome lives.
As for those proselytizing methods, no need to worry. Xue Futu had plenty of talent. Jianghu swindlers—such promising professions naturally weren’t lacking either. Xue Futu, reflecting on back when Great Cheng collapsed, the organization had always operated at upper levels, ultimately when fleeing everywhere things didn’t go smoothly—since Tiansheng’s nation-founding, they dispersed into parts, scattered among the people, pursuing various trades merging into the lowest-level common folk. It could be said after these many years, that batch responsible for folk information transmission had touched nearly every kind of trade. Not to mention fraudulent ghost-playing Daoists—even eminent monks could be mustered.
What Feng Zhiwei now did was train the Shunyi Iron Cavalry together with Gu Nanyi. After the court envoy returned to the capital, regarding King Shunyi’s cause of death, Grand Consort Mudan had intentionally or unintentionally leaked part of it. The grassland now burned with a wave of angry emotion. If not for Feng Zhiwei holding them down, the brave war-loving royal army would have long ago ridden south trampling through Yuzhou’s city gates.
Every morning Gu Nanyi led a horse waiting at Feng Zhiwei’s courtyard entrance. The two rode straight to the valley training the iron cavalry, eating and resting together with soldiers. Only at night did they ride back. Under starlight and moonlight riding side by side, horse hooves stained with night dew from early spring grassland alfalfa flowers, fragrant all the way.
At night Gu Nanyi as before slept next door to her. But Feng Zhiwei never knew Young Master Gu had moved his floor bedding, close against hers. Between them only separated a thin board wall. Every night he would gently press his palm against the board wall’s lower end, thinking if she faced this direction, he’d be pressing her shoulder. If she faced sideways this direction, he’d be pressing her back. Thinking this way, he felt the cold board wall was actually very warm. That warmth penetrated straight through his palm, transmitting to his heart. In such warmth, he carefully listened to her breathing. Only after confirming that breathing was even, rising and falling steadily, would he consent to sleep.
Every night starlight passed through window lattices, shining on the peacefully sleeping Gu Nanyi’s lips, illuminating his reassured and joyful smile.
Because she was there, close at hand, a distance he could feel with his palm.
He didn’t want to hear her tossing and turning. He liked seeing her expression as bright as daylight when rising in the morning.
He knew she would quiet down beside him. When together hugging knees quietly watching cloud seas and grassland, her gaze was peaceful and composed. He wouldn’t speak, wouldn’t let any unnecessary sound disturb her rare tranquility.
He always felt he could do too little, far too little for her. Then, giving her a bit more quiet and companionship was also good.
Neither he nor she returned again to Gedamu Snow Mountain’s peak. Both felt such a place—going more was a kind of desecration. Having one beauty remaining in the heart had more lingering aftertaste than daily meetings.
Quickly spring passed into summer. On the vegetation-lush grassland, grass fragrance daily submerged horse hooves. This day, Feng Zhiwei and Gu Nanyi as usual patrolled the grassland and Great Yue border. Just stopping, they suddenly saw Great Yue’s heavily-guarded checkpoint—the city gate opened wide in the distance, pouring out a group of variously-colored horses.
The horses were all good horses, not many, also no riders. They looked like some horse herd startled somewhere, unintentionally charging over. The grassland border garrison immediately tensed, each holding weapons in hand, carefully observing horse backs and horse bellies, fearing enemy troops might emerge from somewhere.
Yet the horse herd charged right up close, stopping before a moat between the two nations, milling about in place snorting. That side showed no movement from afar. The city gate had already closed.
The grassland garrison looked at each other. Among the horse herd they could clearly see there truly were no people. Logically they should shoot them dead without question in a rain of arrows. But grassland sons all loved horses. Seeing such a group of fine horses, how could they bear to act? Watching the horse herd cross the border marker, all looked helplessly at Feng Zhiwei.
Feng Zhiwei silently gazed at the Great Yue border city separated by a long fence topped with iron caltrops. That city gate was tightly closed. Even garrison troops didn’t come out to move about—clearly showing no hostile intent. Her gaze fell outside the long fence moat. After a long while she said, “Lower the drawbridge. Lead the horses over.”
The grassland garrison showed delight. Immediately they sent people down to lead horses. Originally they wanted to send more people to guard against tricks. Feng Zhiwei said lightly, “No need.”
The horses were led over—indeed mostly fine horses. Yet everyone’s gazes all fell on one among them.
That was a pure white horse, not one mixed color, not exactly tall, yet its form was flowing and divinely handsome beyond compare. Though the surrounding horses were all fine steeds, compared to that horse, they all immediately seemed dim. Those horses also seemed to feel inferior, all pulling back some distance from the white horse, leaving that white horse in the center with proud bearing, disdaining to stand shoulder to shoulder with other horses.
“Is this… a li horse?” A squad leader nervously grabbed the shoulder of a subordinate beside him. “Hey, look if it’s a li horse?”
“Bah, how’s that possible!” That man impatiently twisted his shoulder. “A li horse worth ten thousand gold yet hard to exchange—how could it suddenly appear here…” After he carefully looked twice, he also started stuttering. “But… but…”
Feng Zhiwei had already walked over.
Her eyes were sharp—she saw on the white horse’s back a small bundle.
Opening the bundle, inside was a small bottle and a letter. The envelope read: Letter to Huozhuo Yinjierji Clan Royal Court.
That handwriting she recognized—it belonged to Jin Siyu.
Feng Zhiwei held the letter, frozen for a long while, slowly tore open the letter.
Inside the letter was another letter. The header surprisingly read “Shaoyao personally open.” This letter was actually written to her.
“After two years’ separation, are you well?”
“News of King Shunyi’s death has already reached the capital. I think, with your relationship with him, you’ll certainly return to the grassland. Regardless of which identity you return as, you’ll definitely come inspect Yue border. Whenever you come inspect Yue border, you’ll most likely do what’s in your heart. Thus I gift you Xiao Bai. If you can tame it, when fleeing for life in the future, it’ll always be useful.”
“Enclosed with the letter is the Twin Life Gu antidote. I suppose since you didn’t come to Great Yue last year, you shouldn’t need it. Consider it my unnecessary meddling. Originally wanted to keep this thing to trick you into coming to Great Yue once, to take you to see Great Yue’s summer maple forest reflected in snow. Yet ultimately knew it was just wishful thinking. This life, this world—you and I likely cannot meet again. Keeping this thing is also useless. Each time seeing it only blocks my heart. Give it all to you. Throw it away, play with it—up to you.”
“I’m well. That year after parting, everything went smoothly. I know you may not worry about me, but still must say this sentence. Consider that you indeed do worry about me. Anyway even if you truly don’t worry about me, you certainly wouldn’t have the face to admit it.”
“Don’t know what will happen in the future. Your thoughts, never let people grasp them. But I only say one sentence to you—Great Yue’s summer maple forest reflected in snow is truly beautiful.”
“End brush. Hope for peace.”
The letter was written briefly. Yet Feng Zhiwei read it many times. After a long while she sighed, putting away the letter, looking up at that peerless steed, speechless in a daze.
He vaguely guessed what she was about to do. Using this method he sent Xiao Bai—a peerless li horse. At critical moments fully capable of saving a life.
From back when she fell into Puyuan Garden, Helian Zheng personally came to rescue, plus the subsequent series of deductions, he probably also vaguely determined Wei Zhi’s true identity, guessed she would necessarily return to the grassland. Thus he commanded people in this border city to wait for that day she inspected the border. A thousand li gift of horse, commemorating old affections.
Of course this method was somewhat risky. Though loyal grassland men seeing the letter’s header would certainly send it to the royal court, what if she wasn’t the one who came? What if this letter fell into court spy hands? Together with that horse, it would bring great trouble. But she estimated Jin Siyu also didn’t care—originally between them the relationship was subtle, half-enemy half-friend. Adding a bit of trouble for her, he wouldn’t mind. If because of this she couldn’t remain in Tiansheng and was forced to flee to Great Yue, even better.
At the letter’s end he said thus—Great Yue’s maple forest reflected in snow is truly beautiful.
As long as you come, Great Yue will forever shelter you.
Feng Zhiwei held the letter paper, gazing distantly toward that pass. She knew these two years Jin Siyu had strictly executed the strategy she presented on the ship back then—steadily advancing, step by step approaching the capital. She also knew just recently, Great Yue’s Ninth Princess conspired to usurp power, was killed by Jin Siyu before the palace gates. That was Great Yue’s last imperial clan child of this generation. She also knew the capital had already been controlled by Jin Siyu. A group of old ministers were busy drafting the new emperor’s enthronement edict.
Jin Siyu amid myriad affairs must be somewhat vexed, unable to maintain his false gentle demeanor. Or rather, before her, he didn’t want to maintain it.
Feng Zhiwei revealed a faint smile. Turning to look at that li horse—this kind of horse was legendary descendants of Great Cheng’s founding emperor and empress’s mounts, inheriting the excellent steed bloodline from Great Yue’s Changqing Mountain Range. Noble and proud, extremely difficult to tame. Even allegedly, those not of imperial bloodline with innate nobility found it hard to control this kind of famous horse that called itself “Imperial Steed.”
This Xiao Bai in appearance didn’t resemble a li horse much, somewhat smaller than ordinary li horses. But the spirit in its eyes surpassed even Jin Siyu’s mount back then. Feng Zhiwei believed this was the best li horse. Precisely because it didn’t too much resemble a li horse did Jin Siyu gift it to her, to avoid being too shocking to the world.
She gently walked over. Xiao Bai looked at her with exploratory eyes, showing no violent appearance. She hugged the horse’s neck, rubbing its ears, speaking a few sentences low. Xiao Bai turned its head, gently touching her face.
If Jin Siyu saw this scene, he’d probably be shocked out of his eyeballs. Back when he tamed this exceptionally proud horse, he used a full three months.
“This isn’t a li horse, just a good horse—no reason not to accept.” Feng Zhiwei didn’t know her own fortune, casually patting the horse’s head, simply explaining to the grassland men. Putting away the antidote, taking out a bottle from her bosom, also wanting paper and brush—but this grassland border city, a group of completely illiterate rough men, where would there be paper and brush? She could only burn charcoal sticks, carelessly writing several scrawled characters for the future Great Yue emperor. Together with that bottle placed in the bundle, tied to another horse’s back. “Keep the best few. Send the rest back as they were.”
The Huozhuo men drove the remaining horses back across. That horse carrying Feng Zhiwei’s return gift was among them.
Watching the horse herd again cross the moat, Feng Zhiwei laughed lightly, turned over mounting the horse, extending a hand. Gu Nanyi floated onto the horse, behind her simply and happily saying, “Good!”
Feng Zhiwei turned back from horseback, seeing distant Great Yue border city standing quietly in the thin twilight, imposing bearing in the evening glow—like that year in Puyuan Garden, that person holding her slowly walking through long corridors.
That year’s corridor was endless yet also had no endpoint. Many years later the nine-dragon crown and cap separated worldly entanglements. He was on the other side of mountains and seas.
Feng Zhiwei gently turned her head, raised the whip. The crisp bright whip crack illuminated the grassland’s gorgeous brilliant twilight.
One rider in rolling dust galloped away, hoofbeats answering—writing her response to him.
“Wind rises over four seas—each cherish yourself!”
As if only a wind rose, the season passed from summer through autumn into winter. Roadside trees’ yellow leaves tumbled several times—heaven and earth left only ground-covering bleakness.
This was the road toward the Imperial Capital. A long procession was slowly advancing.
The procession was King Shunyi’s Grand Consort’s retinue. After King Shunyi died earlier that year, the aged Emperor worried about this adopted daughter. He said he wanted the Grand Consort to return early to the Imperial Capital, wanting to comfort this bitter-fated woman, give her some family joy. Yet the Grand Consort due to excessive grief had been unable to travel. Not until October the following year, under frequent urging by local officials under orders, did she depart from the grassland returning to the capital.
“It gets dark early. Still ten li from the post station.” The guard captain rode to a carriage carved with grassland royal clan symbols, loudly requesting instructions. “Grand Consort, should we proceed or seek lodging? Please instruct.”
The carriage curtain lifted slightly. Feng Zhiwei’s calm, waveless voice came through. “Camp on the spot. Hurrying at night isn’t safe.”
The guard captain took orders and left. Feng Zhiwei sat quietly in the carriage, listening to the orderly arrangements outside.
Recently she responded to orders returning to the Imperial Capital. Gu Nanyi changed disguise accompanying her. Walking to Longbei, they parted ways. On one hand he had to return to look after Zhixiao, maintain position in Xi Liang, transmit information from that side, responding when necessary. On the other hand, Gu Nanyi was Wei Zhi’s representative. When she returned to the capital as Feng Zhiwei’s identity, he was no longer suitable to appear beside her.
This place was at the Longbei border near Jianghuai. In another three or four days’ journey they could reach the Imperial Capital. Feng Zhiwei wasn’t impatient. The court situation now was treacherous and unpredictable. Early was inferior to late.
Since Ning Yi was severely harmed by her once when she requested establishing a crown prince, he was greatly suspected by the Emperor. His right to enter the palace for audience anytime was stripped. For most of half a year father and son hadn’t met privately. The Seventh Prince’s faction thus rose in power. The Seventh Prince’s faction, already suppressed unable to move, after his loss of power immediately jumped out. “Worthy Prince” talk again filled court and countryside. By comparison, Ning Yi kept low profile, saying nothing, doing nothing—thus appearing Prince Chu’s situation was precarious, appearing very weak. The Seventh Prince’s camp thus became proud, instigating the Seventh Prince who was supervising troops at the front to simply request leading troops, using real solid military merit to add flowers to brocade. The Seventh Prince was steady, still hesitating. His faction in the court already continuously submitted memorials drumming him up. Emperor Tiansheng immediately issued an edict for the Seventh Prince to lead the southern expedition army, crossing swords with the Changning feudal lord who had already occupied the Jiang and established himself as emperor. The Seventh Prince’s initial battle was victorious. He reported great victory, beheading three thousand enemies. In the court, jubilation everywhere, songs of meritorious virtue unceasing. Yet at this time it exploded that the Seventh Prince condoned subordinates, using ordinary people’s heads posing as enemy bandit heads, consecutively slaughtering three villages, causing within a hundred li not a wisp of human habitation. After the news spread, Longbei common people in extreme anger stormed military camps and government offices. The ‘Qingyang Sect’ took the opportunity to proselytize, directly pointing to the court’s perverse actions, heaven’s mandate not eternal. In just a few days gathered tens of thousands of people. When news reached the court, His Majesty was furious. He immediately ordered thorough investigation. This matter’s follow-up kept being confidential. Even Feng Zhiwei couldn’t obtain news of who went to Longbei to handle this case. But quite obviously, this matter most likely had Ning Yi’s handwriting. From this matter’s twists and turns she saw Ning Yi’s style—first show weakness letting the opponent get dizzy, let you climb higher and still higher, then pull away your ladder, waiting for you to fall heavier and still heavier. So after the Seventh Prince’s great victory, that many desperately drumming him up, drumming until the Emperor was delighted endlessly bestowing rewards, drumming until the Emperor praised the Seventh Prince as the nation’s model with commendation orders transmitted throughout the nation, drumming until the Seventh Prince was dizzy losing vigilance. Then at the lively red-hot peak, when everyone knew it couldn’t be taken back, pouring down ice and snow plummeting a thousand zhang.
At that time, how could the Emperor who lost great face not be furious?
Feng Zhiwei sighed lightly, thinking the Qingyang Sect’s proselytizing had always been very low-key, very secret, never alarming officials. Except in the war-engulfed, information-blocked southern circuits, proselytizing in other regions was always very careful. But quite obviously, it was still discovered by Ning Yi. Utilizing this Longbei village slaughter case, he’d lifted out the Qingyang Sect matter.
She believed the Qingyang Sect’s proselytizing outside the southern lands couldn’t possibly be that brazen. But if Ning Yi said brazen then it was brazen. In the short term, the Qingyang Sect shouldn’t think of rapidly developing outside the southern lands.
Feng Zhiwei’s fingers tapped fingers, thinking of future matters. Now she was no longer a single person alone. She connected the lives, deaths, fortune, and calamity of too many people throughout the world, yet tied all her secrets in Ning Yi’s hands. Life and death decided by his intentions—this was too terrifying.
Although he’d always kept it hidden without revealing, although he’d always indicated unwillingness to be her enemy, but things reached this point—already become enemy and us. Hoping to maintain survival on someone’s reluctance was too naive, too laughable. He too was a heroic figure. How could he sit watching someone try to pry loose his family’s realm? Moreover that realm, in his eyes, was as good as his.
Even if he was unwilling, what of it? There were naturally people worrying for him, daily drumming him up. Xin Ziyan was a precedent!
Feng Zhiwei sighed, thinking of secret letters received these days from Hang Ming, Qi Shaojun and others. Intentionally or unintentionally, all saying Prince Chu was sinister, hinting she should take the opportunity returning to the capital to eliminate him extremely early. Otherwise great matters would be hard to accomplish.
Feng Zhiwei closed her eyes, heart churning. Suddenly felt her face cool. Her fingers pinched—it was a snowflake that passed through the carriage curtain gap not properly closed earlier, falling on her face.
It was snowing.
She gently pinched down the snowflake, placing it in her palm. The sharp-angled snowflake crystallinely sparkled in her palm. She slowly counted the snowflake’s petals.
“Kill, don’t kill, kill, don’t kill, kill…”
Before finishing counting, the snowflake had already melted in her palm, coolness spreading into her skin.
To the end, also didn’t know whether it was kill or don’t kill.
Feng Zhiwei curled her palm, tightly gripping that palmful of coolness.
She counted so slowly—was it that she herself also didn’t want to face the finished count’s result?
She closed her eyes. The sky on all sides pressed down heavily. Overhead cold wind howled, swirling endlessly, gloomy and fierce. Listening, it sounded like countless wronged souls’ wailing cries.
The night of Changxi Year Nineteen’s first snow, in Longbei.
One li from Feng Zhiwei’s carriage procession was precisely the legendary three small villages slaughtered by the Seventh Prince’s subordinates posing as enemy bandits.
One li from the small villages, there was also a carriage procession, plain and low-key, rumbling along the road toward the dead villages.
One li from the carriage, in the dense forest countless masked people crouched in the flying snow. Eyes bright, watching the not-far death village, waiting for that carriage’s arrival. Swords in palms all painted with black lacquer—in the night no reflection.
These were three points on Tiansheng Year Nineteen’s late Longbei map, forming a triangle each occupying one point, extremely near, extremely slowly mutually approaching.
And at the three points’ center, Feng Zhiwei’s carriage procession stood silently in wind and snow.