When I awoke, the sky outside the window was dim, and I couldn’t tell if it was morning or evening. The street below was noisy with the mixed calls of various vendors and peddlers.
I found myself in a room decorated in gaudy opulence, my nostrils filled with an overwhelming perfumed scent. This decor, this fragrance—I must be in a brothel somewhere in the bustling market district.
Supporting my heavy head as I sat up, I saw Xiao Qianqing sleeping face-down on a table nearby. After flexing my limbs and finding no discomfort, I walked over and tapped his shoulder. “Haven’t you slept enough?”
Xiao Qianqing raised his head with difficulty. To my surprise, his face was frighteningly pale, his thin lips completely bloodless, as if he’d suffered serious injuries.
He clutched his chest as he stood, his white clothes spotted with blood and wrinkles. He seemed beyond caring about such details now, muttering, “You’ve had enough sleep? Then let me rest for a while…” He stumbled toward the bed.
I quickly moved to support him. “What happened to you? Are you injured?”
He turned back with a slight smile. “My lady, look around—we’re no longer in the Forbidden Palace. Did you think the Empress Dowager and that old dog Gui would let us leave quietly? I carried you out alone while fighting our way through. That we survived at all is already a blessing from the gods.”
“Thank you,” I hurriedly expressed my gratitude, then asked, “What about Hong Qing and Ying?”
Xiao Qianqing stopped and gave me an amused look. “You don’t even ask about my injuries, but instead ask about Hong Qing and Ying? How heartless.” After his complaint, he still answered, “They couldn’t escape. They were captured, but they shouldn’t be in immediate danger of execution.”
Seeing him barely able to stand, I quickly said, “Go lie down on the bed. Do you need me to get you medicine?” As I spoke, I moved to open the window to look outside.
Seeing me reach for the window, Xiao Qianqing took an anxious step forward and said, “Don’t—”
Before he could finish, I had already opened the window and saw the scene outside.
On the street below, white cloth hung from the door frames of every establishment—taverns, inns, shops, and homes alike. People still bustled about as usual, but the men wore white cloth bands around their heads, and the women had white paper flowers pinned in their hair.
I understood why he had feared me opening the window. This was national mourning—the Emperor had passed away.
As the clean, crisp wind touched my face, I turned back to smile at Xiao Qianqing. “What’s wrong? Are there ghosts outside waiting to eat people? Or can’t you stand the wind?”
Xiao Qianqing smiled too as he lay down on the bed. “Just pretend I didn’t say anything.”
I sat down at the table and smiled. “Xiao Qianqing, what day of the twelfth month is it?”
He paused. “The twenty-third.”
“So it’s only been one day,” I smiled. “Xiao Qianqing, it wasn’t until yesterday that I remembered we had met before when we were children.”
I didn’t specify who I meant, and he didn’t ask. I continued, “I was only five or six then, just brought to the capital by Father from rural Henan. I still had my countryside accent, and the other noble young ladies looked down on me and wouldn’t play with me. I could only follow my brother around, rough-housing like a tomboy. Once, when the Late Emperor was hunting at the Hailuo hunting grounds in the secondary capital of Daiyu, my brother disguised me as a servant boy so I could go along.”
“While my brother went hunting with the older children, I mixed in with the young lords. Somehow, we children got into an argument. They said many insulting things about me, and in my anger, I lunged at them and started fighting. How could I, alone, fight so many children? They had me pinned to the ground, beating me. That’s when a delicate-looking youth, who looked even more feminine than me, walked by. Someone called out ‘Your Highness the Crown Prince,’ and they all ran away.”
“It was rather cold that day, and that youth’s face was very pale. He came over and offered me a handkerchief, smiling as he said, ‘Girls shouldn’t get their faces so dirty, wipe it clean.’ I snatched the handkerchief ungraciously and asked him, ‘How did you know I was a girl?’ He just smiled and said, ‘I just knew.’ I thought he was being glib, so I turned away, not wanting to talk to him.”
“That youth seemed physically weak and couldn’t go riding and hunting like the other boys, so we sat on the grass and talked. We spoke of many things that day—which pastry shop had the best sweets, which tutor’s lessons we disliked, and so on. As we talked, he said that girls should be more graceful and quiet, or they might get bullied if they cause trouble. I said I wasn’t afraid, that there would be a boy to protect me. My father always told me that girls were born to be protected by boys, and I’d heard it so often I believed it.”
“Hearing this, that youth laughed heartily and asked, ‘Have you found someone to protect you yet?’ I shook my head and said, ‘Not yet, but someday I will.’ I looked at him and added, ‘You’re quite handsome, why don’t you be the one to protect me?’ He agreed quite readily: ‘Little girl, it’s settled then. I’ll protect you for life.'”
“Just that one phrase—he remembered it all these years.” I smiled. “I had long forgotten. If he hadn’t repeated those words today, I might never have remembered that there was once a youth who told me… he would protect me for life.”
I smiled again, my eyes dry and tearless. “It was only thirteen days since he returned from Shanhai Pass. Thirteen days… why is the time given to us always so short?”
Xiao Qianqing was silent for a moment before suddenly saying, “Don’t think about it anymore.”
I smiled. “Afraid I’ll go mad? Don’t worry, I’m just talking. After all, there’s still so much to be done.” I looked at him with a smile. “Xiao Qianqing, you want to be Emperor, don’t you? I’ll help you.”
He looked into my eyes, then smiled after a while and began explaining the court situation: “Your father Ling Xuefeng has been placed under house arrest by the Empress Dowager after the funeral. The Empress Dowager supports Prince Yu’s ascension, but most court officials oppose this.” He smiled. “They support me instead.”
“Prince Yu Xiao Qianhong, who’s only eleven?” I gave a cold laugh. “The Empress Dowager has calculated well. I suppose she wants to rule from behind the curtain.” I glanced at Xiao Qianqing. “The officials all support you—you’ve placed quite a few people in court, haven’t you?”
“Not at all.” Xiao Qianqing smiled casually. “Don’t always think me so cunning. My reputation is quite good, you know.”
“Right, seeing is believing.” I shook my head and asked, “Do you still have his imperial edict?”
Xiao Qianqing nodded. “Of course.”
“Then it’s simple.” I smiled. “I’m confident I can convince my father. If we work together, dealing with the Empress Dowager will be almost certain.”
Xiao Qianqing raised an eyebrow. “Fine, what are your conditions?”
It’s convenient talking to clever people. I spoke frankly: “First, after your ascension, my father remains as Prime Minister.”
Xiao Qianqing nodded readily. “There’s no one more suitable than Ling Xuefeng to be Prime Minister. I agree.”
“Second,” I paused, “I want you to serve as Regent Prince for a year first… I will announce to the world that I’m carrying the bloodline of the Vermilion Bird branch of the Xiao family, and you’ll act as regent until the prince is born. The Deyou era name will remain unchanged.”
“That’s a bit far-fetched,” Xiao Qianqing pondered. “Are you saying if you bear a son, I should yield the throne to him?”
“It’s a lie…” I rested my chin on my hand and smiled. “I’m not pregnant. The regency is just a pretense. After a year, the throne will still be yours… By then your power will be consolidated—are you afraid I’ll break my word?”
Xiao Qianqing nodded somewhat helplessly. “I humbly obey Her Majesty the Empress’s command.” After speaking, he suddenly smiled. “You must hate me deeply. Why help me?”
“Who knows?” I smiled and walked back to the window. “Perhaps I just don’t want the Empress Dowager to be too comfortable.”
Outside, the flow of people continued endlessly, the white flowers and mourning bands swaying with their movement. By law, all trade should cease during national mourning, but with the New Year approaching, common people busy all year want to celebrate properly—perhaps such restrictions can’t be enforced?
This is for the best. Let everyone remain busy and cheerful. Whether it’s national mourning or not, the living must continue living.
I reached my hand outside the window, catching a snowflake that had fallen from the eaves. Without my noticing, it had begun snowing again.
Today is the twenty-third of the twelfth month. Seven days remain until New Year’s Day of the ninth year of Deyou.
On this day known in folk custom as the Little New Year, the empire’s situation took an unexpected turn following a massive palace upheaval.
On the twenty-sixth of the twelfth month of the eighth year of Deyou, the third day of mourning, court officials submitted a memorial to the Empress Dowager, urging her to select a new emperor, arguing that the throne should not remain vacant.
On the twenty-seventh, Prince Yu Xiao Qianhong was hurriedly summoned from his fief to the capital. This eleven-year-old prince was suddenly thrust into the empire’s power center.
That same day, five branches of the Xiao family’s royal princes led loyalty armies to the capital, camping outside the city walls and demanding to pay respects to the Late Emperor’s spirit at Fengxian Hall where his coffin lay.
On the twenty-eighth, after failed negotiations, the royal princes and Empress Dowager had a falling out. The loyal armies faced off against the capital’s ten divisions of Imperial Guards outside the city, with battle imminent.
On the twenty-ninth, the Chengjin nation, having surrendered to Great Wu less than a month ago, once again mobilized their cavalry to threaten Shanhai Pass, renewing the crisis looming over the empire.
On this same day, Prince Yu Xiao Qianhong’s coronation was hastily held in the Forbidden Palace. The child, wrapped in imperial robes altered in haste to fit him, received the court officials’ homage in Zhongji Hall.
However, before the ceremonial cannons could fire or music could play, a squad of unidentified guards stormed the palace. As the court officials cowered in corners before gleaming weapons, they finally understood the true nature of power—nothing more than these cold blades.
Leaving Xiao Qianqing behind, I approached the Empress Dowager step by step, sword in hand. My armor clinked with each movement, my leather boots making dull thuds against the imperial path.
I placed my sword against the Empress Dowager’s fair, plump neck. “You’ve lost.”
My voice was hoarse from days of hard riding. I had just returned from Shanhai Pass, where I not only secured the support of Ku Mo’er’s hundred thousand cavalry but also gained General Qi Chengliang’s backing using Xiao Huan’s imperial edict. At my command, Qi Chengliang would open the gates and lead a hundred thousand Jurchen cavalry straight to the capital.
I knew I had gone mad, but at this moment, I truly could direct everything without fear, even if it meant destroying the empire.
The Empress Dowager’s face was pale. She stared intently at my face without saying a word.
I withdrew my sword, ignored her, passed by the trembling Xiao Qianhong, and walked straight out.
Scattered sounds of fighting still echoed in the inner palace—my brother and his men still engaging with the two divisions of palace guards.
Snow had just fallen, and some still lay piled on the square before Qianqing Gate. The vast square was empty as I crossed it, heading toward Fengxian Hall.
In the majestic Fengxian Hall hung enormous funeral banners. Behind them rested a tall, black coffin. The hundreds of eternal lamps beside the coffin wavered slightly in the barely perceptible cold wind.
The hall was quiet, as most people had gone to the outer court to attend the joyous enthronement ceremony. Only a few palace maids remained to keep vigil by the imperial coffin.
I walked a few steps further in and faintly heard someone crying softly in a corner of the great hall. I walked around the coffin to find a palace maid huddled there, crying quietly. Her sobs were restrained, echoing hoarsely in the empty hall.
Hearing footsteps approach, the palace maid hurriedly wiped her tears and stood up in panic. Seeing it was me, she froze.
She was Wu Lingming, the same Wu Lingming I had once toyed with. After that incident when Xing Yiyong framed her, she had been stripped of her title and relegated to serving as a palace maid in a remote palace.
She finally came to her senses and hastily curtsied: “This servant greets Her Majesty the Empress.”
I smiled and gestured for her to rise, touching the cold coffin beside me. “Everyone else has left. Why are you still crying?”
Wu Lingming shook her head as bright tears slid down her face. She choked out, “These past days everyone’s been busy with other matters. They’re short-handed here, so this servant has been tending the lamps and keeping His Majesty company…”
“Thank you for your hard work,” I smiled at her.
Wu Lingming wiped her tears and shook her head. “This servant does it willingly. His Majesty has so few companions now, he must be very lonely. This servant is foolish—while His Majesty was alive, I couldn’t serve him properly. Now I can only do what little I can, hoping His Majesty’s spirit in heaven won’t be lonely.”
“Silly girl,” I smiled. “Once someone dies, there’s nothing left. All this talk of spirits in heaven is meaningless. Just keeping His Majesty in your heart is enough.”
Wu Lingming nodded while sobbing. I paused, then asked her, “Would you like to leave the palace?”
Wu Lingming started, looking up at me in confusion.
“By custom, all childless consorts must be sent to the Cold Palace, but I can let you leave instead. Would you like that?” I asked.
Wu Lingming stared at me blankly, her tear-filled eyes slowly beginning to shine. She asked carefully, “Your Majesty… can we really… leave?”
“I keep my word,” I smiled. “Go out into the wider world, meet more people, see more places. Perhaps you’ll even find someone else to love? What do you say?”
Wu Lingming nodded vigorously, tears falling faster from her eyes, dropping one by one onto her collar.
She wiped the tears from her face and suddenly said, “Your Majesty… His Majesty never touched me.”
I paused, stopping to look at her.
Her face was covered in tears, but she continued, “I know that among the palace consorts, besides Your Majesty and Noble Consort Du, His Majesty only summoned me. But when I went to the Hall of Mental Cultivation, His Majesty did nothing, just let me rest for a while before having me sent back.”
“I’ve never told anyone… His Majesty first summoned me because that day in the Imperial Garden, I got into an argument with some other attendants. They tried to bully me because their families were more prominent than mine, so of course I fought back. While we were arguing, His Majesty happened upon us. He didn’t say anything, just stared at me for a long time, then summoned me that night.”
“That night His Majesty did nothing, only said to me before I left, ‘Be gentler in the future, don’t let people bully you.'”
As she spoke, tears began falling again: “I was so foolish then, I didn’t listen to His Majesty’s words. Instead, I became even more arrogant because I had been summoned… Only now do I understand that His Majesty didn’t take me then to leave me a way out? His Majesty… did he already foresee this day?”
I smiled and looked up at the vast hall. This was truly Xiao Huan’s nature—always thinking far ahead, always leaving people a way out.
Perhaps it wasn’t just Wu Lingming, but even Du Tingxin… Thinking of how she spoke to me, Xiao Huan may have never touched her either.
I bent down to hug her briefly, then turned and walked out of the hall, never looking back at that enormous coffin.
Outside, the Empress Dowager stood waiting, with guards escorting her and Xiao Qianqing behind her.
The Empress Dowager looked at me with a cold smile: “Your Majesty the Empress is truly composed, able to laugh and joke before your husband’s coffin.”
Xiao Qianqing smiled lightly from the side and said to me, “I think you must have more to say to Her Majesty the Empress Dowager.”
I let out a breath and gestured to him. He smiled and led the two guards to step aside.
After they left, the Empress Dowager gave a cold laugh: “Before Huan’er’s coffin, what face do you have to speak to me?”
I smiled and looked up at the gloomy sky beneath the multiple eaves: “You must be thinking that although I didn’t do it directly, I’m responsible for his death, aren’t you?”
The Empress Dowager gave a cold snort but didn’t answer.
“When you learned we had been captured by Xiao Qianqing and he only had days to live, you simply stopped caring whether he lived or died, only sending people to kill me and Xiao Qianqing for revenge.” I lowered my gaze from the sky to look at her. “You only thought that I had caused his death, that you hated me and wanted to kill me. But you didn’t think that even though he was dying, he was still alive—alive to feel joy and sorrow, anger and grief. How do you think he felt seeing his mother point at him and tell others their emperor was already dead, being forced to turn against his most trusted subordinate?”
“You once told me his thoughts were always hidden too deep—is it because his thoughts were always so hidden that you took it for granted that he was a person without blood or tears, existing only for your empire and your realm? When something happened to him, your first thought wasn’t about what would happen to him, but what would happen to your empire… Can you tell me honestly, when he died, did you grieve more for losing a son, or for losing an emperor?”
The Empress Dowager looked past my shoulder, slowly moving her gaze to the coffin in the hall, remaining silent for a long time.
“Let me tell you, your empire and realm aren’t worth a copper coin to me,” I looked at her with a cold smile. “I dragged you from that enthronement ceremony to stand here just to make you understand that some things, no matter how insignificant you think they are to your grand imperial righteousness, should never be taken lightly.”
The Empress Dowager remained silent, gently closing her eyes without speaking further.
I walked to the door and beckoned to Xiao Qianqing: “Confine the Empress Dowager to Cining Palace.”
Xiao Qianqing signaled the two guards to take the Empress Dowager away, then smiled: “You can stay here longer if you wish. I’ll handle the other matters.”
I shook my head: “No need.”
Xiao Qianqing paused, looking at the dark hall, and smiled: “That day when he fell from the railing, he was already lifeless. I wanted to take him with us, but Gui Wuchang seized his body. The Empress Dowager probably searched for it too, but it hasn’t been found to this day.”
So this was just an empty coffin?
I lowered my head and smiled. This was better—this way I wouldn’t have to see a cold corpse and search that temperature-less body for traces of that young man.
These days my eyes would often sting with pain, but no tears would come.
I said nothing more and walked straight down the steps and out.
Having hurriedly taken over so many affairs, especially with the complex funeral rites that had to be conducted according to protocol, there were truly countless matters to attend to. Fortunately, Xiao Qianqing had already called Father out from home, and with Father’s years of prestige in court, everything was somehow manageable.
The defense of the inner palace by the imperial guards had cost my brother quite an effort, losing many good men. However, with the two commanders of the escort battalion absent, their strength was greatly diminished. Moreover, many still held loyalty and love for Xiao Huan and didn’t truly want to fight for the Empress Dowager, so it wasn’t too difficult in the end.
After breaking through to the inner palace, my brother found Ying and Hong Qing in a side hall. Hong Qing had been wounded by Gui Wuchang, and Ying was tending to him. They also found Shi Yan—Xiao Huan’s sword had only cut his blood vessels without truly hitting vital points. Though he had lost a lot of blood, his life wasn’t in danger.
Most unexpected was that my brother found Xiaoshan and Jiaoyan in Chuxiu Palace. That day, Hong Qing didn’t kill them, only knocked them unconscious.
I summoned all the consorts and told them they could leave the palace if they wished. Those who wanted to stay would have to move to the Cold Palace but could retain their original ranks and salaries. Many consorts were still young and unwilling to spend their lives confined in the Cold Palace, so they eagerly requested to leave. Only a few who had nowhere else to go remained.
As for Du Tingxin… I hadn’t seen her since my return, but for a woman like her, perhaps she didn’t need my concern.
After finishing these matters, I went to visit Hong Qing and Shi Yan. Shi Yan was in poor spirits, sitting on his bed like a stone statue, completely motionless.
Hong Qing was somewhat better. When he saw me, he managed a smile. Ying sat by his bedside like a little cat, occasionally helping him with things or adjusting his pillow.
After such a long day, I was quite tired. That evening I returned to Chuxiu Palace to rest and slept until broad daylight. It was now the thirtieth of the twelfth month, the last day of the eighth year of Deyou.
With the national mourning, there would be no New Year celebrations in the palace this year. I had Xiao Qianqing issue an edict allowing private celebrations in the city, though they couldn’t be too boisterous.
On this final day, Father, who had been helping Xiao Qianqing manage state affairs in the outer court, came to the inner palace. He stood beside me, paused for a moment, then slowly said, “It’s going to snow again.”
The sky was gloomy, with heavy leaden clouds pressing down overhead. The first day of the new year would inevitably bring another heavy snow.
I nodded. “There’s been quite a lot of snow this winter.”
“The winter your mother left… there was this much snow too,” Father suddenly said. “The year I met your mother, I was barely over twenty, an arrogant but poor scholar, while she was already a famous swordswoman in the martial world. When she married me and retired from the martial world, many people said she was foolish—why would she want to spend her life with a useless scholar? But your mother said she was happy, and I was happy too. We were married for five years, had your brother, and then she was pregnant with you. Our family was always content.”
“But in the fifth year, it was snowing on the thirtieth too. You weren’t full term yet when your mother suddenly said she was leaving and would never return. I asked her why, and she told me I was too useless—she couldn’t spend her life with such a pathetic man.”
“I nearly went mad that day. Your brother was crying from hunger around the cold stove. I used all my strength to grab your mother’s sleeve, asking what it would take for her to stay. Her eyes were so cold then, and she said harshly that she would only come back to see me if I could reach the highest position in court.”
“She had calculated that I could never achieve it. At that time, I didn’t even have the smallest official position and knew nothing about court politics. Wanting to reach the highest position was simply a fool’s dream. That’s how your mother left, and as she said, she never came back.”
Father’s gaze toward the distance became misty. “That was the year I took your brother to the capital for the imperial examinations. I hated your mother so much then—when I wasn’t cursing her day and night, I was using every means to climb higher. I swore that even if I did reach the highest position one day, I would never acknowledge this fickle woman again.”
“When I was finally appointed as Chief Minister of the Grand Secretariat, on the day the imperial edict arrived, I set up a feast in my mansion’s courtyard with two sets of bowls and chopsticks and sat down alone. I thought this news would be known throughout the empire, that your mother would hear of it wherever she was, and that she would surely come to see me as promised. I had prepared countless words to shame and curse her, and set out the wine she loved best… That night, I waited until dawn, until it was time for the morning court session before I finally understood that all these years of waiting, with blood-stained hands and ignoble scheming, were just because I wanted to see her again, even if once would have been enough.” Father’s voice suddenly trembled, and he stopped speaking, his arms hanging at his sides also shaking slightly.
From childhood to adulthood, I had never heard Father mention my mother. He only required my brother and me to return home on the thirtieth of every twelfth month to pay respects to her.
“Then what?” I paused before asking, “Mother never went to see you?”
“Your mother was already dead.” Father had calmed himself and continued slowly, “Shortly after leaving home, she gave birth to you in the countryside. Then she went alone to her death. Your mother had been found by old enemies, and knowing she couldn’t defeat them, she left alone to avoid bringing trouble to us.”
“After they captured her, she begged them not to seek revenge against her husband and children. They agreed to her request but nailed her to their sect’s entrance with bone-eating nails. Her body hung on that gate for half a year before being thrown into a deep valley for vultures to feed on. Now not even her bones can be found. This story spread widely in the martial arts world at the time, bringing many faces to her enemies.”
My fists were clenched tight, nails digging into my palms: “Where are those bastards now?”
“They were the Four Talents of the Tang Clan, but they died eight years ago. The Tang Clan of Shu no longer exists,” Father said flatly as if speaking of something entirely ordinary. “I exterminated the entire Tang Clan. Sometimes power can be quite useful.”
So that was it. Eight years ago, the powerful Tang Clan of Shu was massacred, wiped from existence. So that was why.
Father continued: “After learning the truth, I often wondered why your mother had to say such cruel words, why she would rather have me hate her than tell me the truth. Later I understood—after five years of marriage, she knew me best. She knew my proud nature and knew that if she hadn’t spoken that way, I would never have let her go. She also feared that after she was gone… I would follow her.”
Father paused: “Hatred is the most enduring emotion. Your mother would rather have me hate her, hoping that hatred would keep me going.”
Father slowly turned his head and smiled at me: “Cangcang, whether it’s separation in life or death, the one left behind needs more strength than the one who leaves. Since you were small, I’ve always seen you as very brave—sleeping alone in empty rooms without crying, daring to walk long distances at night to meet me home. You’ll certainly manage this time too. No matter how difficult or long the road, you can walk it alone.”
I wiped the tears from my face and nodded with a smile: “I will.”
Father smiled too, patting my shoulder reassuringly: “From now on, do whatever makes you happy.”
I smiled, then after thinking, still said: “Father, since you knew Mother was gone, why did you still hold onto the position of Chief Minister? Was it because you still felt that as long as you remained Chief Minister, you could still wait for Mother?”
Father’s hand on my shoulder suddenly stiffened, and he said half-angrily: “What nonsense are you talking…”
“Ah… Father is still a hopeless romantic.” I laughed heartily, pulling his hand as I dodged behind him.
Unable to catch me, Father could only sigh and smile: “You… you wild girl…”
There was nothing left to look forward to that day. In the evening, I took off the empress’s ceremonial robes and changed into a light half-sleeve dress and quilted skirt, then walked out of Chuxiu Palace.
On the covered walkway outside the Imperial Garden, I ran into Xiao Qianqing. His smile was faint: “Leaving the palace?”
I nodded and kept walking straight ahead without stopping: “This young lady is off to roam the martial world…”
He laughed softly, and just as I was about to brush past his shoulder, he suddenly spoke: “Is it merely to roam the martial world?”
I smiled and walked straight ahead without looking back.
Passing through the desolate Imperial Garden in winter, through the long, dark gateway, I could already see the gloomy sky outside Xuanwu Gate, dark and cold like the all-seeing eye of a deity.
This wasn’t over yet, I knew.
The winter wind of the twelfth month cut like a knife against my face. Behind me, Xiao Qianqing held a cloak he hadn’t managed to give me, standing sideways in his light fur coat as white as snow, not saying another word.
On the streets at dusk on New Year’s Eve, pedestrians gradually grew fewer. Occasional shops that hadn’t closed yet hung white gauze watermelon lanterns with the character for “mourning” written on them, the lanterns swaying in the cold wind.
I wandered to the Fenyang Teahouse in the West Market. This small teahouse was quite famous among those who roamed the martial world, where information from all walks of life gathered, though tonight no one was here to collect intelligence.
Those gathered here at this time were people who couldn’t go home for New Year’s—performing artists, medicine merchants, and wanderers of the martial world.
The teahouse owner had set up a brazier in the center of the room, brewing a pot of steaming millet wine. Customers used wooden ladles to scoop the wine into large celadon cups, bringing them to their tables with a few small dishes. Whether they knew each other or not, they sat together, chatting about everything under the sun.
I ordered a few dishes and sat in a corner by the window with a large cup of hot wine.
I couldn’t hold my liquor well. After two cups, the tables, chairs, and customers before me became blurry. I vaguely heard people at the next table talking about recent events. One person said the emperor’s death was too sudden and strange, while another said the emperor had been ill for a long time, so his death wasn’t surprising, though the timing was suspicious.
As they talked, the conversation turned to the empress. One said the empress and the regent prince showed compassion for the people by allowing them to celebrate the New Year, proving their wisdom and benevolence. Another said the empress was remarkable for joining forces with the regent prince to overthrow the empress dowager, showing considerable skill. The others agreed.
I gave a cold laugh from the side: “What’s so remarkable? Her husband died and she’s still happily doing this and that—if you ask me, she’s a heartless woman!”
They all turned to look at me. I was dressed as a man and bleary-eyed with a drink. A large man with a full beard smiled: “Young brother, we’re just talking. Has the empress wronged you somehow?”
I raised an eyebrow and stood up: “The empress hasn’t wronged me, but you lot are bothering me.”
The bearded man rolled up his sleeves: “Looking for trouble, are you?”
I kicked the stool out from under him, watching him fall unexpectedly to the ground, and laughed loudly: “Yes, I’m looking for trouble. What of it?”
As you might expect, I got into a proper fight with those three big men, until the teahouse owner had to step in and throw all four of us out.
The three men didn’t know much about martial arts. Though they were strong, they couldn’t gain the upper hand. I had the advantage in martial arts, but two fists couldn’t match four hands. I landed two punches on their faces, but I looked quite disheveled with my bruised face.
After leaving the teahouse, we fought for two more streets before I finally leaned against a willow tree, unable to hold back my laughter.
The three men, some standing and some sitting, also started laughing. The bearded one patted my shoulder: “Young brother, if you’ve got troubles weighing on your mind, a good fight will help.”
Another laughed: “Come to think of it, fighting together on New Year’s Eve means we’ve got some destiny together.”
Having laughed enough, I raised my head and pointed at my nose: “Is my trouble written all over my face?”
Though drunk, they spoke sensibly, laughing: “With such a gloomy face, of course you’ve got troubles!”
I burst out laughing too, and they joined in.
After laughing, we chatted idly for a while until snow began to fall.
The big men said they needed to get back to their inn before they froze to death in the street by morning. Before leaving, they asked if I had somewhere to go. I said I was from the capital and my home was nearby. They joked that having a home in the capital but still coming out to drink and fight on New Year’s Eve showed I had troubles.
After they finished speaking, they walked away arm in arm, singing hometown tunes and swaying as they went.
I ran to a corner and threw up everything I’d eaten, sobering up about seventy percent.
At that moment, someone lit firecrackers at the street corner, and amid the popping sounds, a group of children laughed and clapped.
It was past midnight now… Now it was the first day of the first month of the ninth year of Deyou—not some new era, but the ninth year of Deyou.
Having Xiao Qianqing serve as regent prince for a year, issuing an edict claiming I was pregnant… all of this was just because I wanted the new year to be the ninth year of Deyou.
Not someone else’s era, still the Deyou period… like a fool.
As if this way, nothing had changed, as if this way, if I turned around sometime, I could still find that young man, as if I had never lost him.
I laughed inexplicably, sat down against the wall, and in my dazed state, something suddenly appeared beside my hand. I reached for it and brought it before my eyes—it was the Willow Wind sword, which had disappeared after Gui Wuchang took it.
I looked up. Heavy snow still fell silently, people’s celebrations echoed from far away, and the space before me was empty, with no one passing by.
I lowered my head and slowly drew the Willow Wind sword—a brilliant white blade that had weathered the years, witnessing rises and falls, unions and partings.
I gently ran my fingertip over the inscription on the blade: “What hatred lies in yearly partings.”
On this first heavy snow of the ninth year of Deyou, snowflakes fell scattered on this legendary ill-omened sword, gradually covering the inscription. Gripping the hilt, I smiled.
On New Year’s Day of the ninth year of Deyou, this day was no longer the Emperor’s birthday celebration, but it would still mark the beginning of a new year.