In the fourth month, all under heaven was unified. A new dynasty was established. Huang Chao ascended the throne as Emperor, with the reign title “Xize,” and conferred upon Hua Chunran the position of Empress.
On the very same day he ascended the throne, Huang Chao issued an iron-and-cinnabar edict restoring the name and status of the Jiuluo clan, and decreed that the people of the Jiuluo clan were to return to their homeland.
On the tenth day of the fourth month, Huang Chao issued a proclamation to all under heaven, publishing the “Inaugural Code of the Huang Dynasty,” and melted down the Xuanzun token together with the seven Xuanmo tokens to forge the treasured sword — Long Yuan.
In the middle of the fourth month, Huang Chao commissioned master craftsmen to carve a chess board from a piece of phoenix blood jade of a rarity scarcely seen in the world, using white jade from Cang Shan and ink-black jade from Jiulun for the pieces, and personally arranged a game upon it, which was then preserved in the Yulong Pavilion.
All the officials who were fortunate enough to witness that game of chess later said the same thing: it was an utterly transcendent game. Its transcendence did not lie in the brilliance of any individual move, nor in the perilous complexity of its arrangement — but in the fact that among all its black and white pieces, not a single one had captured another. Both sides had penetrated deep into each other’s territory. And in the end, black and white had merged together, coexisting upon the board in harmony. It was a game of transcendent and unparalleled benevolence.
The new dynasty began to take its first steps forward. The common people looked on with hopeful eyes — watching the new Emperor on the throne of the imperial city, watching the scholars and generals from every nation gathered together in his golden hall, watching to see how they would build a peaceful and flourishing age.
And at this moment, at the summit of Changmang Shan, two old men were standing before a great stone.
“You wretched brat — I, this old Daoist, kept from women my entire life, and who could have guessed I’d end up raising a disciple who chose his beloved over the realm? A complete disgrace to my name! And you, you old pedant — as a young man you fancied yourself quite the romantic, stirred up no shortage of sentimental debts yourself, and yet look at the iron-hearted disciple you managed to produce!”
The old man in black robes muttered and grumbled as he looked at the game of chess on the summit, which remained precisely as it had been left.
“Haha — old Daoist, this game still hasn’t been finished. Shall you and I continue?” The old man in white robes laughed freely and asked.
“What a ridiculous question! What meaning would it have to continue now?” The old man in black raised his wide sleeve with a sweep of his arm, about to send the board and all its pieces flying off the ten-thousand-zhang cliff below.
“Wait!” The old man in white raised his own wide sleeve in an equal sweep, dissolving the other man’s force. “‘Regard the realm as nothing more than dust and chaff — take each other’s hand and laugh at the heavens from the ends of the earth.’ To be willing to give up the realm itself for the one you love — what depth of feeling must that require? Huang Chao would rather bear the mockery of posterity for having received the realm than see it destroyed. Why should you? Leave it. It is also a testament to a love that shakes the ages — one that no hundred generations could produce again.”
“I suppose you are right.” The old man in black said this with his own trace of feeling.
“Now that the realm is settled, you and I can wander freely together without a care in the world.”
“Hmph — you’ll come with me first to find that wretched brat. If I don’t give him a few good knocks over the head, I won’t be able to put this grievance to rest!” The old man in black gnashed his teeth and stamped his foot.
“Hahaha!”
From the summit of the mountain, the sound of bright and merry laughter rang out.
(End)