Layer upon layer of palace halls, nine-curved magnificent chambers.
The long dress hem dragged across carved railings and jade steps adorned with dancing dragons and phoenixes, turning in the sunlight’s shadows into those dim palace chamber depths.
In the dark shadows, someone stood up with slight urgency.
Lady Feng stopped, slightly raising her face, revealing a calm yet sorrowful smile.
Such a smile, in Emperor Tiansheng’s eyes, was like seeing a flower quietly blooming on a cliff face, opening tender softness against a harsh background.
“Mingying…” He extended his hand somewhat forgetfully, calling softly.
Lady Feng looked at him steadily without bowing, only smiling as she approached.
Emperor Tiansheng took her hand, carefully stroking those somewhat pale hands all over. The hands weren’t delicate or soft, bearing some calluses. He knew these calluses came partly from wielding swords and practicing martial arts twenty years ago, partly from ten years of hard labor.
With some complex pity, he gripped her hand tightly, murmuring, “Mingying, ultimately you were also deceived by others, and you rendered great service to the nation. I truly cannot bear to kill you. But such a grave treason crime requires some accounting… In the rear palace, there’s an unused palace hall, very close to the Haoyun Pavilion office, and very secluded… You stay there properly. Just don’t come out in the future.”
Lady Feng lowered her eyes, obediently listening to his concerned arrangements. Her slightly bowed countenance concealed the mocking smile at her lips’ corners.
This was an unknown imperial secret case—whom to spare, whom to kill, to whom did he need to account?
The overwhelming merit from saving the sovereign and nation back then earned her such lenient grace?
An abandoned palace, a remnant life—requiring her to be confined henceforth within a few feet of palace chambers, unable to step out, reduced to his sole forbidden treasure?
He… was still forever this cold and selfish.
She smiled faintly, somewhat dazed yet determined. Raising her lashes, she said softly, “I respectfully obey Your Majesty’s instructions.”
“Mingying.” A trace of joy flashed in Emperor Tiansheng’s eyes. Holding her hand, he turned through layers of curtains. “Come… let me look at you properly…”
Bright yellow brocade silk heavy curtains hung in layers, stretching across the deep hall. Turning through them layer by layer was like turning through this obstruction-filled, heart-aching life. The heavy, oppressive atmosphere rushing forward was suffocating. Those swaying gauze blown by wind, like spider silk one couldn’t grasp—one touch and “rip,” it would tear.
He embraced her shoulders. Ahead—pearl curtains, jade couch, a room of heavy incense.
At this moment, who held whose hand, wanting to rush toward the gentle land hoped for many years.
At this moment, who leaned in whose arms, waiting for a lifetime of suffering and struggle to end decisively.
Emperor Tiansheng held Lady Feng as they sat. By the swaying red candlelight, he carefully examined her bright, beautiful features, his eyes intoxicated. After a long while, his fingers gently fell on Lady Feng’s collar.
“Your Majesty…” But Lady Feng gently drew back.
Emperor Tiansheng paused, dark clouds gathering between his brows.
“This brightness… is rather embarrassing…” Lady Feng’s face flushed faintly as she pointed to the lady-shaped candleholder.
Emperor Tiansheng smiled and released his hand. Lady Feng stood, extinguishing the candlelight.
Darkness descended. Behind the curtains penetrated a bit of pale white skylight. Emperor Tiansheng reclined lazily on the couch, waiting for that woman to approach sinuously in the darkness, delicate fingers threading through flowers, sharing pleasures together.
“Thud.”
The sound was muffled. The entire bed shook slightly.
Emperor Tiansheng, who had been half-closing his eyes immersed in beautiful dreams, in his daze felt as if the ceiling beams were shaken down. He leaped up in alarm.
“What happened?”
No one answered him. Palace servants had all been driven far away to outside the hall. In the darkness lurked a heavy scent like iron rust—familiar enough to be alarming.
“Mingying!”
When Emperor Tiansheng’s foot stepped into the bedside slipper, he felt the shoe was damp. Turning, he vaguely saw Lady Feng collapsed on the ground, a pool of spreading dark liquid quietly blooming on the golden brick floor.
He rushed over, with a swish pulling open the curtains. Skylight instantly flooded in, illuminating the hall floor’s dazzlingly brilliant red.
“Your Majesty…” Lady Feng breathed feebly, extending her hand toward him from the pool of blood. Her blood-stained fingers were like jade, like carving. “I…”
Emperor Tiansheng froze there. He saw beside her head the gold-wrapped bed leg, dyed an alarming vivid red. Just now… she had rammed into it like this, with her own temple, precisely and ruthlessly, decisively without reserving any strength, shattering herself.
In an instant, both anger and sorrow, plus some disappointment and incomprehension. He avoided the blood spreading toward his feet, asking her as if in a dream, “Why… why… do you hate me so much…”
“No…” Lady Feng still persisted in extending her hand toward him, expression desolate. Fresh blood flowed steadily from her temple, soaking her hair completely wet—not terrifying, only tragic.
“Your Majesty…” Gradually her long lashes became covered with a layer of tears. “…Mingying had massive hemorrhaging during childbirth years ago. Later with insufficient food and clothing, many years of poverty… I contracted a woman’s foul disease… With such a body… how could I… how could I serve Your Majesty… Mingying reveres Your Majesty as a god… how could I with a polluted body… desecrate…”
Emperor Tiansheng froze there. Hot tide instantly surged in his heart, pressing to his eye sockets, finally falling as tears.
“Mingying!” He finally approached her, grasping her extended hand, no longer avoiding that sticky fresh blood. Tears fell drop by drop. “Why didn’t you say so earlier… Just have the imperial physicians examine you. Even if… even if it can’t be cured… it wouldn’t harm my loving care for you in the slightest…”
Then he turned, shouting loudly, “Summon the imperial physicians! Have the imperial physicians get over here immediately!”
Palace servants outside tumbled away. Emperor Tiansheng held the woman in his arms, feeling only emptiness in his heart.
“A woman like me… unclean and disloyal…” Lady Feng gently placed her hand in his, looking up mournfully at Emperor Tiansheng. “Keeping me alive… will ultimately bring Your Majesty trouble… The princes watch like wolves and hawks… Your Majesty treads a difficult path step by step… These years I’ve watched… my heart also alarmed for you… uneasy… Mingying cannot… for my own worthless life… calmly seek survival… bringing Your Majesty… hidden dangers…”
Emperor Tiansheng trembled, thinking of his own tiger-eyeing sons, thinking of the Fifth Prince who had just been defeated and committed suicide. His thoughts turned like lightning—he had already understood Lady Feng’s concerns were correct. His heart was even more moved, choking as he said, “You’ve worked so hard… thinking of me like this… But it’s such a pity for you…”
“Twenty years ago… Mingying could die for Your Majesty…” Lady Feng’s lips curved with a smile gentle as white lotus, blooming distantly in the lonely palace chamber. “Though… I walked a wrong path for a while… ultimately Mingying can still… die for Your Majesty… Truly joyful… truly… joyful…”
Emperor Tiansheng held her tighter, feeling that hot blood flowing ceaselessly, feeling her life flowing away drop by drop in such affectionate gentle telling. In his heartache and daze, he actually felt she truly was dying for him. So wronged yet so understanding of the greater good—just like twenty years ago.
“Twenty years ago…” Lady Feng murmured, smiling, her countenance showing some bright joy.
“Twenty years ago…” Emperor Tiansheng murmured in repetition, tears blurring his eyes.
Time seemed to rapidly recede at this moment. White hair turned black, countenance returned to youth, revealing the black-haired, bright-eyed maiden of twenty years ago, amid blood-stained yellow sand, one sword like lightning splitting, severing a hand holding a spear stabbing toward his chest.
“Master! I’ve come to save you!”
He opened his eyes and saw her smiling face, and that blood-stained crimson armor. A long arrow was shockingly embedded in her shoulder. She showed no change of expression, supporting him with one hand, charging toward the enemy encirclement dozens of times their number.
Such a brutal battle…
He was severely wounded and couldn’t fight anymore. She single-handedly killed her way through. The slender maiden used her waist sash to bind the heavy him tightly to her back, boldly charging into the enemy群. He weakly watched her blade rise and fall, splattering others’ blood and her own blood. Watching her unable to carry him, half-kneeling on the ground inching forward bit by bit, knees rubbed bloody on the rough ground… Those scalding blood beads splashed into his eyes, hotter than tears. In such burning emotions he swore to himself… if he could survive… definitely… definitely treat her well…
Such vows rang resolutely in his heart at the time, feeling they could never be forgotten for life. Yet the long passage of time ultimately would faintly thin memory. Moreover, an emperor’s vows were always just wind passing the ears, lightly forgotten… gradually forgotten… until today, that woman was desolate in his arms, with some nostalgic smile, gently bringing up twenty years ago.
He gripped her hand tightly. Fresh blood like fire also seemed to scorch his heart. He said softly by her ear, “I’ve always thought of you… That year in the golden hall when you threw down your cup and composed poetry, my heart…”
This was his heart’s knot. Even at her death, he didn’t forget to ask clearly—that year when she threw down her cup and composed poetry in the golden hall, his heart stirred. He immediately prepared to issue an edict making her an imperial consort. Who knew not long after, she eloped with someone. That was the first time in his life he faced rejection—from her.
“…Mingying never dared love Your Majesty…” Lady Feng extended her hand, delicately stroking Emperor Tiansheng’s stubble, revealing a desolate smile. “…Those three palaces, six courtyards… seventy-two consorts… Mingying foolishly wished for… with Your Majesty… one lifetime, one world, one pair… but that’s impossible… unattainable… staying in the Imperial Capital was also desolate… Mingying didn’t… elope with someone… I left on my own… The second year… only because of hardship in the martial world… I married someone…”
Emperor Tiansheng stared at her blankly, tears falling blankly, voice mournful, “Mingying! I misunderstood you all these years!”
“Yes… my own… temperament… not good… too… greedy…” Lady Feng’s smile was thin, ready to be pierced by death’s sharp sword at any moment. “Unto death… unworthy…”
“Don’t speak anymore…” Emperor Tiansheng held her sobbing. “Tell me… what unfulfilled wish do you have?”
“Only wish… Your Majesty health and happiness…” Lady Feng answered ethereally, her eyes gazing distantly into emptiness, like a wisp of cloud floating in distant time and space. “That year… throwing down the cup in the golden hall and composing poetry… truly exhilarating…”
“You can go in peace.” Through rolling hot tears, Emperor Tiansheng remembered half a year ago, that woman who again composed poetry in the golden hall—Feng Zhiwei, her daughter. A trace of tenderness surged in his heart. He said softly, “You want me healthy and happy. I also want you to depart without worries. Your daughter, I will treat well. She’s very much like you… I’ll enfeoff her… enfeoff her as a Princess… bestow marriage to… Helian Zheng!”
“Zhiwei… very much like me…” Mentioning Feng Zhiwei, Lady Feng finally revealed a trace of bright, proud smile, tightly gripping Emperor Tiansheng’s hand. “Princess title and such… doesn’t matter… Only hope you for Mingying’s sake… if she has any ignorant mistakes… be forgiving… As for the marriage bestowal… do as you see fit… The grasslands are too far away… my heart aches…”
“Young Master Helian will treat her well. But as you say, we’ll see.” Emperor Tiansheng held the woman light as a feather, watching her hanging by a thread, struggling and unwilling to depart. He knew she was waiting for her only relative. He gently wiped away tears, laid her flat on the couch, saying coldly to the arriving imperial physicians:
“No matter what, sustain her life for me until she sees Feng Zhiwei before departing!”
“Yes!”
Within the imperial city, dark undercurrents rolled. A woman in a pool of blood completed all her life’s missions.
Outside the city gates, Feng Zhiwei leaned against a tree, listening to the account of these seven days’ changing winds and clouds.
Her dust-covered face had long lost all color, yet also had no tears, as if from the moment she heard the words “too late,” all tears had been dried by that thunderbolt news.
She pressed tightly against the tree—without this she seemingly couldn’t support her own body.
Zong Chen spoke very simply, partly fearing too much shock for Feng Zhiwei, partly because some things he himself didn’t know clearly. Yet Feng Zhiwei’s heart had long sunk into deep water.
Mother and brother were imprisoned in the Heavenly Prison for involvement in the Great Cheng imperial succession case. Then her brother died. Mother was taken to Ning’an Palace. Someone saw not long after, imperial physicians hurriedly rushing to Ning’an Palace.
Zong Chen comforted her, “Perhaps your honorable mother is only injured…”
Feng Zhiwei shook her head. Zong Chen fell silent. Even he himself didn’t believe these words—with Lady Feng’s fierce nature, having endured in hiding for over ten years until now, how could she possibly endure further? From the moment she wielded an axe breaking out of prison, this woman had already staked everything, burning bridges, never planning to leave herself a retreat.
“I’m going to Ning’an Palace.” After a long while, Feng Zhiwei said flatly.
“Miss Feng,” Zong Chen tried to dissuade her, “This is too danger…”
“She’s waiting for me.” Feng Zhiwei’s tone was resolute as she personally removed Wei Zhi’s mask.
Zong Chen spoke no more, clapping his hands. Someone emerged from behind the tree, holding clean water, clothing, and grooming implements.
“You can’t go see her like this. The Emperor is very suspicious.” Zong Chen said. “Wash away the dust. I’ll disguise you.”
Feng Zhiwei washed her face and changed clothes, reapplying makeup as Feng Zhiwei. Zong Chen used sheep oil to carefully smooth away the peeling cracks on her lips, then took out a box, creating on her face some shallow pockmarks left after smallpox recovery.
Feng Zhiwei looked in the mirror—nearly indistinguishable from real. She knew this Chief Commander was skilled at disguise. Even her own mask was likely his handiwork.
Her heart full of painful matters, she had no mind for more talk. Hastily mounting her horse, she headed straight for the imperial city.
Mother, wait for me!
The imperial city had nine layers—without summons, none could enter.
The inner court’s decree hadn’t yet reached the outer city. Before the palace gates, Forbidden Guards shuttled ceaselessly, guarding strictly.
Suddenly hoofbeats sounded like rain, galloping near. The Forbidden Guards all turned their heads, seeing on the vast plaza broad as a lake surface, someone riding alone, wearing sunlight like gold, a line of startling lightning, thunderbolt piercing the sky approaching.
The person wore a black dress, seamlessly one with the black horse beneath. Racing urgently, the dress flew and fluttered, like a dark cloud from the firmament between thunder suddenly descending, abruptly overhead.
That horse was extremely magnificent. The Forbidden Guards still stood dazzled and entranced, lost in the newcomer’s bearing and elegance. That single rider had already reached their eyes—startling wind passing through, gone in an instant.
As if wild goose feathers flew through heaven and earth, impossible to grasp.
By the time the Forbidden Guards reacted, that single rider had already leaped past two layers of palace gates!
The sun’s golden light was drawn into a line by that figure, like a golden whistling arrow, piercing straight through this Imperial Capital’s heart, through the nine palaces’ center.
Only then did the guards at the third layer of palace gates vaguely hear commotion. Looking up, their vision was blocked by that dark cloud. Just about to cross their spears to block, the rider suddenly leaned down slantwise, spreading open her palm toward them in a flourish.
That palm was lustrous white as jade. The Forbidden Guards thought she was showing an entry waist token, lowering their spears. They heard a long neigh—vigorous wind swept past their ears. That horse and rider had already passed the third gate. Then a guard felt his waist lighten. Touching it, he discovered somehow his waist-worn golden mace had been stolen.
Each layer of palace gates kept to their duties—under any circumstances they couldn’t leave their posts without permission. The first three gates’ guards, in their shock, could only remain in place and sound the alarm.
The long alarm sound pierced through layered clouds, penetrating the vast, high, distant nine-layered palace gates. Since Tiansheng’s founding, the first person to boldly ride alone in broad daylight to storm the palace caused the gate-guarding Forbidden Guards to blow the long-sealed golden horn.
That one person, one horse, never once looked back.
Feng Zhiwei didn’t care about these things.
What situation Mother faced within the palace, she didn’t know. The only thing she knew was that time was certainly urgent now. Without a waist token and the Emperor’s summons, she couldn’t waste time being questioned repeatedly at layer after layer of palace gates. Moreover, even if the inner palace issued permission for her to have an audience, with the eunuchs’ dawdling speed, by the time they arrived it would be too late.
Life was too long—so long many people couldn’t endure and ended it themselves.
Life was too short—sometimes too short to give people even one second to wait.
The fourth layer of palace gates!
Two giant long spears clanged together in formation, golden light splashing forth, majestic as mountains.
One rider came pouring through the wind. Bowl-sized horse hooves shattered flowing sunlight like water.
The spear tips were sharp and keen, like a pair of cold eyes, unwavering in their stare at the knight who had stormed three gates.
The horse approached!
Golden light suddenly flashed!
“Clang—”
A golden mace carrying sun color suddenly appeared in the rider’s hand, meeting the spear tips boldly with a swing. In the sharp, long echo of metal collision, the two hundred-pound heavy spears were fiercely split apart.
The golden spear tips traced an arc of colorful dazzling light rippling like oars. The two strongmen wielding heavy spears staggered backward.
In that retreat, the horse had already leaped up, sweeping past the three-zhang palace gate in one bound!
The fifth layer!
Long spears like a forest, formed into battle array, had long been waiting before the palace gate.
That forest was the world’s densest forest, not allowing even a bird to fly lightly through.
The Forbidden Guards pressed their lips tight, grimly waiting in strict formation. Since Tiansheng imperial dynasty’s founding, never had anyone stormed four layers of palace gates like this. The newcomer was too formidably overwhelming, so much so that everyone’s hearts pounded nervously.
Then they saw that magnificent black horse, mane flying as it galloped near. Across the horse’s body lay a golden spear, but no person.
Everyone paused.
Where was the person?
Already intercepted up ahead?
In that pause, everyone’s hearts relaxed.
The horse had already reached them. Facing the spear forest, it actually didn’t slow at all, charging viciously straight through.
Anyone who practiced martial arts loved horses. Such a worldwide rare supreme horse—the Forbidden Guards couldn’t help feeling cherishing sentiment. Moreover, they hadn’t seen the enemy trace that made them nervous. Thus involuntarily, they withdrew their spears slightly.
In that withdrawal.
From beneath the horse’s belly suddenly extended a pair of snow-white hands, lightning-fast scooping up—with a clatter gathering all the golden spears from the Forbidden Guards beside into hand!
Then from beneath the horse’s belly, a black feather flipped up, floating out a person. In midair she traced a beautiful arc, landing on the horse. That bundle of golden spears in hand like a bundle of firewood she thrust horizontally forward, rumbling straight into the rear formation.
The Forbidden Guards who had lost their spears retreated in panic. The Forbidden Guards behind feared injuring their comrades and hastily withdrew their spears and retreated. For a moment they were in chaos. Before they could collect themselves, by their ears they only heard hoofbeats thundering—that single rider had already leaped past once more!
The sixth layer of palace gates!
On the palace city walls, someone held a telescope, distantly watching the front palace gates’ movements. Seeing that lightning-fast scoop—an expansive gesture like scooping sun and moon, like embracing blue sky—seeing that feather-light rising, the wind-like woman’s fire-like spirit. Seeing on the vast white stone long road, that black-dressed woman storming five gates, shattering sun and startling wind all the way in heroic approach—his heart stirred, spirit swayed, in a daze.
As if seeing many years ago on the battlefield against Yue, there had also been such a woman—crimson armor, black clothing, golden spear, dark steed. Long hair and dress flying fiercely in blood and fire, one spear picking down the incomparably brave Yue general.
Back then he was still a common soldier, looking up under the First Female Marshal’s command at Tiansheng’s heroine’s bearing.
Many years later he was the Palace Gate Commander. Just now hearing news that peerless woman was about to depart, then mournful on the city tower, wanting to intercept another her twenty years later.
“That’s Feng Zhiwei, right?” He said to his subordinate beside him. “I’ve heard about the Ning’an Palace matter. His Majesty will sooner or later issue a decree letting her enter. No need to block.”
One rider like a black line flashed like lightning past beneath his city tower.
He stood on the city tower, thinking of that resolute yet enduring woman, his eyes slightly moistening.
“May she have successors.”
The seventh layer of palace gates!
The black horse that had alarmed the imperial city came forward unstoppably.
Before the city gates, however, a musket squad had already been boldly deployed. This Palace Gate Commander didn’t know about the Ning’an Palace incident, nor was he like the previous one harboring eternal admiration for the Female Marshal. He only knew the rear three layers of palace gates were already pressing close to the palace center—absolutely no one could be allowed through.
Feng Zhiwei rode forward, seeing the formation before the gates. Her brows furrowed. The golden spear in hand flourished.
“Let me through!”
“Why don’t you quickly dismount and submit to binding!” From the city tower someone thundered loudly. “Trespassing palace gates, reaching the sixth layer—you’re seeking death!”
“His Majesty permits me to enter the palace!”
“Present your waist token!”
“The decree will arrive momentarily!”
“Momentarily there will be a decree to exterminate your nine generations!” The Palace Gate Commander laughed loudly.
“Swish!”
Golden light flashed, cleaving through wind. After a resounding clang, the Palace Gate Commander’s laughter abruptly stopped.
A golden spear, shot from bottom to top, pierced through the green brick parapet before him, pressing directly toward his face, leaving only an inch from his chin!
“The next spear.” Feng Zhiwei hefted her bundle of golden spears like firewood, sneering coldly. “Will be your mouth!”
“You—”
“Move aside!”
“His Majesty has decreed—” The shrill eunuch’s announcement voice finally arrived, breaking this moment’s tense standoff. “Summon Feng Zhiwei to enter the palace—”
The man on the city tower’s gaze shifted. He waved his hand hatefully.
Feng Zhiwei clutched that bundle of spears like firewood, seemingly wanting to smile, yet ultimately, tears fell.
Ning’an Palace was shrouded in a suffocating deathly silence.
The air carried a heavy scent like iron rust. Imperial physicians shuttled in and out behind the curtains, occasionally whispering lowly. Palace maids carried golden basins—entering with clear water, exiting with blood water.
Emperor Tiansheng’s face was dark as water. He sat in the outer hall, holding a book in hand but not reading a single word.
Lady Feng was beyond saving. Such a heavy blow—she had left herself no way back. The imperial physicians said she should have long since died, yet clung faintly to life persisting. He understood she was waiting for Feng Zhiwei, also ordering eunuchs to immediately summon her. Yet his heart held no hope—Tiansheng Palace’s entry and exit procedures were complex. Each layer of palace gates would carefully examine. This coming and going extremely consumed time. They still had to find Feng Zhiwei. Even if Feng Zhiwei had already rushed to outside the palace gates waiting, it would likely already be too late.
Her suffering like this—what was the point?
“Your Majesty…” An imperial physician hurriedly stepped out from the curtains. “I fear… it won’t work…”
Emperor Tiansheng’s heart sank.
She ultimately didn’t wait!
“Your Majesty!” A eunuch flashed in, not daring to speak loudly, calling in a low voice. Emperor Tiansheng impatiently raised his eyes, about to get angry, but heard the eunuch say a few words lowly.
Emperor Tiansheng’s eyebrows moved. He set down the book.
“Already arrived? So fast?”
Then he exclaimed in surprise, “Stormed six palace gates!”
“Mingying has a worthy successor…” Emperor Tiansheng thought of that day in the golden hall, that woman who threw down her cup and contested with poetry. A trace of delight flashed in his eyes. He called loudly, “Quickly summon her!”
A figure flashed. Before the hall doors appeared a woman with long hair and black dress.
She seemed somewhat out of breath, slightly panting, fine sweat on her forehead, glinting in the half-shadow at the threshold.
She walked quickly forward. With each step, her face paled one degree more.
“You’ve come.” Emperor Tiansheng sat on the couch, face mournful. “Go see her.”
Hearing this sentence, Feng Zhiwei’s heart relaxed. She nearly instantly went limp to the ground. Her mad rush back to the capital had long exhausted her strength. Then storming six layers of palace gates—already at her limit.
But now was not yet the time to collapse. She struggled, without a word kowtowing to Emperor Tiansheng, then turned toward the inner hall.
Emperor Tiansheng watched her back with some comfort. The more Feng Zhiwei now resembled Qiu Mingying, the more at ease he felt.
Feng Zhiwei rushed straight to the inner hall. All other people had already withdrawn.
Lady Feng’s head was covered with a white cloth concealing the wound. She stared straight at the hall ceiling, her eyes already scattered.
“Mother!”
Feng Zhiwei lunged forward on her knees, throwing herself before the couch.
Lady Feng’s about-to-drift eyes, hearing that call, instantly brightened. She struggled to turn her eyes, groping for Feng Zhiwei’s hand.
“You… as expected came…” Her voice like gossamer, lips’ corners slightly sweeping out a trace of smile. “…I almost… couldn’t wait…”
Feng Zhiwei closed her eyes, tightly grasping her hand, saying softly as if sleepwalking, “I won’t let you wait in vain… I’ve come…”
She extended her hand, gently lifting the white cloth on Lady Feng’s head. Lady Feng lacked strength to stop her, revealing a tragic, mournful smile.
Feng Zhiwei didn’t blink, gazing at that bloody, gruesome wound, taking that misty blood color bit by bit into her eyes, into her heart, into memories destined never to fade for all eternity.
She wanted to remember Mother’s wound at this moment, just as she remembered everything this cold imperial dynasty had given them mother and children. Remember these sixteen years of hardship, humiliation, pain, and struggle. Remember at the moment when she thought everything would improve, when she could finally let Mother enjoy the rest of her life in leisure, someone ruthlessly pushed her and her loved ones from the cloud summit of dreams.
She wanted to remember this world’s endless bitterness, like this wound’s torn flesh. This severed flesh would henceforth grow in her heart, deepening with time’s passage, never healing.
Pearl curtains lifted. Emperor Tiansheng followed in. He ultimately still wasn’t at ease.
Lady Feng said nothing. Feng Zhiwei also said nothing. She closed her eyes, feeling Mother’s finger tracing characters in her palm.
That finger was weak and faint, so soft as barely to form characters. Yet what was carved was the heaviest brand of her life—not in flesh, not on skin, but in her soul, within nightmares.
“Zhiwei.” Emperor Tiansheng’s gaze turned away, avoiding that alarming wound, expression gentle and compassionate. “You must restrain your grief…”
Feng Zhiwei listened to this kind tone, her lips curving with a trace of cold smile. She looked at Lady Feng’s suddenly somewhat urgent eyes, soothingly squeezing her fingers.
Mother, rest assured. I understand.
She turned her head, already wearing a face of grateful sorrow. “Your Majesty…”
Lady Feng’s finger moved, clutching her hand, struggling to lean toward Emperor Tiansheng’s direction. Feng Zhiwei hesitated, pressing her lips, looking somewhat timidly at Emperor Tiansheng.
These mother and daughter’s expressions and actions made Emperor Tiansheng’s heart warm. He hurriedly stepped forward, receiving Lady Feng’s extended hand holding Feng Zhiwei.
He took Feng Zhiwei’s hand in his palm, releasing it immediately upon touch. Then he said in a deep voice, “Zhiwei, your mother rendered merit to the nation. All those years I failed her. Now I compensate you. From now on, I enfeoff you as Princess Changying, and will also regard you as a daughter… You… rest assured…”
Feng Zhiwei’s tears silently flowed down her face.
“This subject daughter thanks Your Majesty for grace!” She prostrated heavily at Emperor Tiansheng’s feet.
Her fingers dug into the golden brick cracks, silently exerting force, then silently tearing open. Fresh blood slowly seeped out, flowing into the cracks where there was a dark trace—blood Lady Feng had shed not long ago.
In such heart-rending pain, she looked up at Emperor Tiansheng with infinite adoration, exactly as if looking at her own father.
Emperor Tiansheng thought of this child’s pitiful background. Henceforth she would be a thorough orphan. His heart ached. Tears burst from his eyes.
But Feng Zhiwei had already turned around on her knees, turning toward Lady Feng who was watching all this, lips slightly curved upward.
Lady Feng was smiling.
Zhiwei… her Zhiwei.
Always the daughter for whom she had exhausted her heart protecting and cherishing.
No matter how grief-stricken and mad with rage, no matter how heartbroken and desperate, no matter how crushed by such pain wanting to rise up and destroy everything—she remained clear-headed and wise, forever making the most correct choices. Even if these choices required her to use all her body’s strength. Even if she struggled to restrain that hatred, restraining until her whole body’s joints creaked audibly.
She saw her burning hatred transformed into that thick, undissolvable blood color in her eyes. Saw her endless guilt and remorse surging and churning ceaselessly in her heart. Saw her in black dress, riding a black horse, galloping across Tiansheng’s ten thousand li territory, the long blade in hand like snow, cleaving an era’s prosperous glory.
She smiled faintly, satisfied to let herself drift up. This human world was too heavy. She could no longer bear even a bit of dust’s oppression.
This life’s painstaking planning, this life’s forced endurance, all for waiting for this final decisive end, to achieve the bold beginning, waiting for that sunset horizon to sink whose imperial dynasty’s banner.
She was tired. Future matters—leave them to those who continue walking.
Finally could smile and return, calmly go to see him.
Oh no… still lacking a bit… still lacking a bit…
She pressed herself down a few degrees more, struggling to open her eyes, signaling her daughter to come close.
Feng Zhiwei brought her tear-stained face close to her lips.
Her face and her lips, equally cold, equally cold, like the forever-frozen snow on extreme northern snow mountains. Henceforth never again seeing human world’s sunlight. Henceforth nevermore having warmth to warm them.
“Don’t blame Mother… don’t blame… your brother…” Lady Feng revealed a trace of apologetic smile, murmuring by Feng Zhiwei’s ear. “…He lived… just to… die in your place…”
A bit of fading sound scattered in the wind. Breath like frost flowers on windows, thinly cool, faded.
The last sentence of a lifetime, yet still lightly as wind yet heavily as hammer, smashing onto that woman’s currently riddled heart.
“Ah—”
A mouthful of fresh blood, shockingly brilliant, sprayed on the golden brick floor!
The palace’s sky was always confined within the four-cornered sky, a square block not letting you cross the rulebook’s fence.
Just like a coffin, letting the flesh eternally sleep within.
Feng Zhiwei sat cross-legged in Ning’an Palace’s side hall, facing two coffins, reading the letter Lady Feng had hidden in her waist sash for her.
She read each character carefully, looking at each word with great effort. Very long, very long afterward, she brought the letter close to the eternal lamp, slowly burning it.
The letter paper slightly curled at the flame’s tip, falling as ash.
The firelight reflected in her gaze—infinitely cold, like a boundless abyss, bottomlessly black.
Holding the eternal lamp in her palm, white curtains slightly swaying in midnight wind, she held the lamp, walking like a wandering soul between the two coffins.
One was Feng Hao’s.
After verifying identity according to regulations, he should be thrown to the cremation ground. She begged Emperor Tiansheng to give her brother a complete corpse. Emperor Tiansheng looked at the bloodshot veins filling her eyes, pondered briefly, and agreed.
“This is His Majesty’s benevolence.” The eunuch who returned the corpse to her said in a shrill voice. “Historically, those entering the cremation ground never have complete corpses.”
His Majesty’s benevolence.
She smiled faintly before the weak eternal lamp.
Giving you a corpse is also called benevolence.
But no matter. Compared to me, you truly are benevolent—you’ll know in the future.
Again adding oil to the eternal lamp, she leaned forward, carefully looking at Feng Hao.
That child slept quietly, eyes wide open. In his pupils before death still remained colors of panic and pain—he departed very reluctantly, very unwillingly.
Feng Zhiwei gazed at him for a long time, slowly extending her hand to stroke his icy face. When had she last touched him? Couldn’t remember. She so detested him, never willing to touch him. She hated iron for not becoming steel. In childhood she felt he was a debt collector. Growing up she felt this brother was her greatest burden.
In the half year before he would die in her place, she had even secretly schemed, keeping him imprisoned in the Ministry of Justice’s dungeon all along.
The last time of his life was spent in prison.
Turns out she was the greatest burden. Turns out she was the one who truly owed someone something that could never be repaid.
Mother said she owed him. At least Mother still doted on him for sixteen years, giving him her utmost compensation. But she who truly owed him—treated him coldly for sixteen years.
Her fingers slowly brushed across his face… Hao’er… let me this lifetime, the first time, also the last time, caress you once.
Your lifetime lived for your sister, died for your sister, yet never received your sister’s warmth. At this moment let me give it to you, though it’s destined forever too late.
Her fingers also didn’t close Feng Hao’s wide-open eyes.
Hao’er.
I let you watch me. Watch me clearly.
This is the world’s most heartless sister, most indifferent relative, most foolish woman. She used sixteen years’ time to fail you.
The oil lamp’s light slowly wandered. In the dark night like flickering ghost fire.
She stopped before Lady Feng’s coffin.
Mother.
I asked you countless times—who ground away the lifetime’s fierce energy and radiance of that once sky-arching, stunning Fire Phoenix Female Marshal.
You could completely not give me an answer. Why must you use death to tell me the only conclusion to this question?
We once agreed to leave the Imperial Capital together. Yet humans calculate but heaven determines. Heaven never willing to grant even my most humble dream. You never waited for me. I was never able to be with you, freely roaming mountains and seas, living a life of worldly paradise.
Is this fate?
To this day I dare not think how you endured those sixteen years.
To this day I dare not think—that time I returned to the Qiu Mansion, you brought newly made clothes to give me. Yet because you refused to send my brother to Shouyang Mountain, I shut you outside the door. That day it was drizzling. I waited through the door to hear your departing sound. How long did I wait? Until I nearly fell asleep… That day your clothes must have been soaked inside and out.
Not until today did I understand.
You couldn’t let him be sent to Shouyang Mountain because it was too far away—if matters were exposed, no one could die in my place.
You couldn’t let him be expelled from the mansion because outside the mansion he couldn’t protect himself—once something happened, no one could die in my place.
Mother.
You want to use these two corpses of my only relatives to tell me—time cannot flow backward. No amount of guilt and remorse can make up for past wrongs.
Even if today I sleep into this coffin, placing myself at the coffin’s bottom, I can never exchange for you smiling and sharing a steamed bun with me, can never exchange for my brother at that end of the table, solely enjoying that bowl of cabbage soup.
This year I’ve worn brocade and eaten jade, enjoying all human world’s glory. Yet not until today do I understand—what I truly wanted was still three people around the table, heads together, drinking that one bowl of cabbage soup.
Cannot catch up, cannot retrieve. This human world—infinitely desolate.
The lamplight gradually extinguished.
At midnight, snow began falling.
The snow was heavy—tearing floss, throwing cotton. Soon it was a thick layer.
Feng Zhiwei soundlessly, in thin clothing, walked in the snow. Icy snow passed her ankles. The bone-chilling cold, yet she didn’t feel cold—from today onward, nothing could make her feel cold anymore.
From today onward, she had already slept in eternally frozen deep snow, with nothing at all, alone.
“Zhiwei, wait for me.”
“By then I want to personally hear the sound of that reed marsh in the wind like ocean tides. Perhaps a bird will also drop a feather on my collar. Mm… would you be willing to listen together once more?”
We won’t listen together to the reed marsh’s sound anymore.
When the Golden Plume Guards controlled by Xin Ziyan broke through Cuifang Studio’s courtyard gates, that reed marsh was destined to wither forever on Nanhai’s road.
Ning Yi.
The Golden Plume Guards are yours, aren’t they?
Investigation of the Feng family began from our first meeting, didn’t it?
Attention to Feng Hao came from your suspicion of his and my backgrounds, didn’t it?
Turns out I was always your target—not love, but imperial power life and death.
Turns out I always stood on your opposite shore—not fate, but bloodline arrangement.
Ha… how foolish, how foolish.
Turns out my lifetime was destined to have no period of abandon. When I wanted to let my heart race like a horse, fate would fiercely rein in my bridle, then give me the heaviest, most bone-chilling whip.
Turns out all my hopes were dreams floating in clouds. Seemingly beautiful, actually could be split by lightning or scattered by gale at any moment.
Turns out what I thought was within reach was actually as far as the Chu River-Han Boundary’s horizon’s end.
The snow fell heartlessly and righteously, howling mournfully, not caring whether at this moment someone was thinly clothed and cold, standing long in the snowy night.
Feng Zhiwei slowly crouched down, beneath a low tree, with her finger slowly writing a name.
She stared entranced at that name in the night color and snow light. Then pressed down her frozen-red hand, soundlessly.
That patch of snow was warmed by her temperature-less hand. Thousand thoughts, ten thousand lonelinesses, gradually all melted to flowing water, trickling—like in life, some irretrievable things, like life, like familial love.
When dawn broke, she supported the two coffins, stepping through snow out of Ning’an Palace. In the falling heavy snow, her back was straight, never looking back again.
That name beneath the low tree warmed by her palm—she quietly cast it behind. Heavy snow ceaselessly falling, covering there layer upon layer, forever impossible to clear snow and search.
The Imperial Capital in the thirteenth year of Changxi had homeless orphan girls expelled from doors, brothel errand girls living under others’ roofs, unparalleled national scholars rising through ranks, young Imperial Commissioners thriving with wind and water.
The Imperial Capital in the thirteenth year of Changxi had romantic princes parading through the capital on horses, emotionally cold founding dynasty emperors, a generation’s Female Marshal enduring humiliation seeking survival, an ignorant youth waiting for death unknowingly.
The Imperial Capital in the thirteenth year of Changxi held one person’s lifetime’s most romantic, most brilliant memories. Yet on that snowy night, silently turned that page, buried in prosperity.
(End of Volume One)