Xiaoye had read it silently and handed it to Liu Jue without a word.
Liu Jue read it and was so furious his fingers crushed the silk handkerchief into a ball. This Wang Yanhui! Even she could think of something like this — the Imperial Mausoleum was guarded by generations of hereditary tomb keepers. No one but the reigning monarch could enter, and the only thing that could currently dissolve the Lost Soul Jade Luring Incense was the ice spring within the Imperial Mausoleum.
The ice spring was clear and cold, welling up from a glacier that had never melted in ten thousand years. Generations of Prince Ning had been buried in the Ice Spring Mausoleum, their faces preserved unchanging for a thousand years. Only the Prince Ning could enter the mausoleum’s ice spring — aside from being sent there to rest eternally upon death, the only other occasion was once a year, to pay respects to the ancestors’ immortal visages. At that time he could bring A’Luo to soak in the ice spring to dissolve the Lost Soul Jade Luring Incense. A’Luo’s identity would then undoubtedly have to be his consort. They wanted Liu Fei to carry A’Luo to soak in the ice spring. Give A’Luo to him as a consort? Wasn’t this deliberately provoking conflict between himself and Liu Fei? Trying to make the two of them fight?
Xiaoye saw that steam was practically rising from the top of his head with rage, and couldn’t help but sigh: “My lord, is there still a diagram on the silk?”
Liu Jue was stunned with anger for a long moment, then sighed: “Let’s follow the diagram out first, and talk after!”
The two of them activated the mechanism according to the position shown on the diagram. A pillar shifted aside, revealing a set of stairs. Xiaoye slipped ahead first to scout the way, with Liu Jue following close behind. After walking for two hours, they reached the end, where there was yet another heavy stone door. They pushed it open and stepped outside — the moon outside was bright as water, the rocky crags jagged, with a stream babbling nearby. After they emerged, the stone door closed behind them; pushing against it did not budge it at all — it could only be opened from the inside. Once shut, it merged seamlessly with the surrounding rock, the design truly ingenious.
Liu Jue looked back and could faintly make out the East City Gate — they were already in the eastern outskirts. Gazing at the stream, he suddenly recalled the time he had brought A’Luo out riding and they had been ambushed by the stream. He had made arrangements in advance and was confident he could repel the attackers; he had told A’Luo to trust him, that unless he died, he would protect her for his entire life. A’Luo had stared at him wide-eyed, her gaze seeming both dazed and moved — in that moment… Liu Jue recalled the words on the silk handkerchief, and his heart twisted like a knife. His A’Luo! Would those eyes never open again? Would she be given to Zili?
He could bear it no longer and leapt straight into the stream, sinking beneath the water. The spring water, still cold, raised gooseflesh over his whole body. He thought of meeting her by the stream in the peach blossom grove, the wind blowing back her bangs to reveal those glistening eyes; he thought of her unreasonable stubbornness; he thought of how, when she had fled their betrothal, he had also lain down in a stream out of grief just like this. But now, no matter how cold this early spring water was, it could not compare to the cold in his heart — no matter how the chill pierced his bones, it could not compare to the ache within.
Zili could never forget A’Luo — how could he possibly give up this chance? He would surely save A’Luo. But that meant A’Luo had to become his consort! This answer was too cruel! What was A’Luo to do? What was he himself to do? Liu Jue lay in the stream, his hands clenched into fists. He opened his eyes; through the water’s surface, the moonlight overhead seemed to ripple like A’Luo’s heart shattering into pieces. Never before had he felt so torn, so utterly powerless.
Liu Jue could not help but leap up from beneath the water, recklessly shattering the moonlight on the surface. His fists stirred up gusts that struck down the gentleness of the spring night’s moonlight; Liu Jue beat at the water’s surface like a madman, all his once-vibrant spirit transformed into uncontrollable grief. Slowly his strength drained away, and he sat helplessly in the water.
Xiaoye turned his head away, unable to bear watching any longer; his sharp, bright eyes had clouded over with tears. He stood silently with his back to the stream, waiting for Liu Jue to calm down.
After some unknown span of time, Liu Jue’s calm voice finally came from behind: “Let’s go back, Xiaoye. Don’t make Father worry.”
“The city gates haven’t opened yet — this subordinate suggests we find somewhere to dry your clothes first!” Xiaoye replied respectfully, acting as though nothing had happened. Inwardly he deeply admired how quickly Liu Jue had composed himself.
“Good!”
Xiaoye flicked his hand and released a firework: “Someone will go report to the old prince that all is well.”
The sky grew faintly light. The city gates opened, and Liu Jue and Xiaoye returned to the Prince of Pingnan’s residence in Wind City.
Prince Anqing had been waiting for a long while; upon hearing the situation, he too was stunned.
“Father, is there truly no other way?”
“There is, only…” Prince Anqing hesitated. There was only one method — Zili would have to draw water from the ice spring himself and let A’Luo soak in it amid the ten-thousand-year snow atop Jade Elephant Mountain. The worry was whether Zili would be willing. Prince Anqing looked at his son and sighed.
Liu Jue’s eyes were resolute: “Father, please speak freely — no matter how difficult, your son can accomplish it!”
Prince Anqing turned his back: “If Zili doesn’t take A’Luo to soak in the ice spring, he wouldn’t need to take her as consort at all. Long ago, our founding ancestor drew water from the ice spring to save someone, but by ancestral law, he had to endure the Punishment of the Dragon Whip. You know that story.”
The Punishment of the Dragon Whip — Liu Jue shuddered. When members of the Liu imperial clan committed grave sins, the harshest punishment in the Ancestral Hall was the Dragon Whip. The whip was made from dragon-sinew, buried year-round beneath ten-thousand-year black ice, absorbing the coldest energies of heaven and earth. After three lashes, a person without internal cultivation would have their internal organs freeze at the very first strike; their corpse would lie for days before blood finally appeared at the seven orifices. Those with internal cultivation would not die, but the cold energy would seep into their meridians — whenever the weather turned cold or rainy, they would suffer unbearable pain that no medicine or treasure could cure.
The tomb keepers’ Dragon Whip had soaked in the ice spring for years on end; ordinary people couldn’t even grip the whip, let alone withstand its chill. If Zili went to draw the ice spring water and endured three lashes, no matter how excellent his internal cultivation, he would likely be left with a lasting ailment. The imperial clan possessed miraculous medicines to treat whip wounds, preventing the ruler from suffering every time it rained or snowed, but it was said that every year on the day of heavy snow, the founding ancestor’s screams of agony had echoed throughout the palace, and all who heard it could not bear to watch. The sensation of ice and fire clashing, cold and heat assailing each other — it was chilling even to imagine.
Prince Anqing’s voice carried a note of regret: “It’s Father’s fault for not thinking things through. Had I known the two of them had long ago pledged themselves to each other, I would never have sent A’Luo into the palace no matter what was said. Even once she was in the palace, if we had rescued her earlier, none of this would have happened. It was I who told Xiaoye to wait for the right moment before acting, not to rush. This is Father’s fault.”
Liu Jue was silent for a long while. Then he said quietly: “Son will go see A’Luo.”
After Liu Jue left, Prince Anqing summoned Chi Feng: “The Lost Soul Jade Luring Incense is a secret medicine of the Xia royal family in the southwest. How could Wang Yanhui have obtained it? Go investigate at once.”
Chancellor Li and all the madams of the household had gathered together at Tang Garden. This third daughter was now the family’s hope, yet she lay there half-dead. A maidservant reported cautiously: “We can only moisten her lips — we cannot get any medicine down her throat at all.”
Sighs and sobs rose once more.
Liu Jue, hearing this, felt his agitation rise, and said with a grim face: “Chancellor and all the madams, please return to your rooms and rest. This prince has a plan.”
Hearing this, Chancellor Li’s heart skipped a beat — the Prince of Pingnan’s expression today was extremely grim! He forced a smile: “Then A’Luo is entrusted to Your Highness.”
Entering the room, A’Luo was still deep in slumber, her complexion even paler than before. If she continued like this — neither eating nor drinking — she would die in her sleep from hunger and thirst without even knowing it.
Liu Ying handed over a bowl of clear water. Liu Jue took it, took a mouthful of water, gently pried open A’Luo’s mouth, and let it trickle in, secretly channeling his internal energy to help the water slide down her throat. A small bowl of water took half an hour to finish. He carefully wiped away the water dribbling from the corner of A’Luo’s mouth. Feeding her this way could not sustain her for many more days.
Liu Ying silently took away the empty bowl and closed the door behind him as he left. Seeing Liu Jue in this state, his own distress was beyond words.
Liu Jue sat at the bedside, gently stroking A’Luo’s face. He lightly took up her hand. This face had once bloomed with coquettish pouts directed at him; these hands had once — she had embraced him tightly with these very hands, the one time she had taken the initiative to hug him. Liu Jue felt as though a sharp thorn were twisting again and again in his heart. He was jealous of Zili, yet A’Luo had said she liked him — though he had only heard it that once. But how, how could he watch her die?
Liu Jue murmured: “A’Luo, if you wake up one day and see Zili instead, would you be disappointed? If you wake up and you’re already his consort, would you hate me? I cannot not save you. I cannot let you keep sleeping like this, growing weaker and weaker, until you wither away. A’Luo, forgive me — when you wake, you must forgive me!”
He buried his face in her hand, his lips touching her warm palm — what a warm hand it was! He couldn’t let go, couldn’t put it down: “A’Luo, as long as you’re alive, I don’t care about anything else. No matter what happens, as long as you’re unwilling, I will never let you suffer! Worst case, we’ll run — I’ll take you and flee. Father will understand me, the Black Guard will understand me — I’ll take you away!”
By the time he finished speaking, his voice was already choked with tears. What helplessness, and what reluctance to part! And yet the world was always so full of such helplessness, tormenting those in love. May all lovers finally be united — precisely because it is so hard for lovers to be united. Liu Jue slowly stood up, carefully tucking the blanket around A’Luo. He gazed at her, unable to look his fill no matter how long he stared. This beautiful face always held some magic that drew him in, fixing his gaze upon it: “A’Luo, you’re reluctant to part with me too, aren’t you? And yet, I cannot bear to give you up. I will never abandon you forever. I said I would do it, and I will — even if it means defying the world, even if I’m caught and beheaded for it, I will take you away!”
One more glance — no, he mustn’t look again! Liu Jue resolutely stood, and without looking back, pushed open the door and strode out.
“Guard her well!”
“My lord!” Liu Ying looked worried.
“I’ve told you before — you have only one master, and that is her.” Liu Jue said in a low voice, and strode away from Tang Garden with firm steps. He walked directly into the royal palace.
In the side hall of Jade Dragon Palace, Zili rubbed his temples — so many memorials to read! Being a king was no easy thing! He’d only been in the palace two days and already felt the weight of state affairs pressing on him. Still, it was for the best — this way he had less time to dwell on other matters. A faint bitter smile rose at the corner of his mouth.
A palace attendant entered quietly and knelt on the floor: “Your Majesty, the Prince of Pingnan requests an audience!”