Fu Gang withdrew.
Just as the assembled nobles were turning their attention back to Hua Zhi, a cry of alarm suddenly rose from beyond the hall.
Instinctively, everyone looked toward the source of the sound. When they saw who it was walking slowly in from outside the hall, some leapt to their feet in shock. The Emperor, displeased, raised his head to reprimand them — then saw the new arrival and sent the goblet nearest to him toppling over.
He was not the only one who lost his composure. Many others did as well.
The uniform of the head of the Seven Lodges was like nothing else — no one would mistake it. And the mask he now held in his hand spoke just as plainly: this was indeed that figure who had never shown his true face to the world.
Yet every member of the imperial family recognized him at once. This was Gu Yanxi, Shizi of the Prince of Ling.
As if seized by the throat, the great hall fell utterly silent. That the head of the Seven Lodges was the Shizi might have been one thing — but why reveal himself now?
“Let us end for today. You are all dismissed.” Before things could reach their very worst, the Empress Dowager rose decisively to her feet and sent those with no part in this matter away.
The assembled nobles looked at one another, their hearts itching with curiosity, yet none dared defy the order. They shuffled reluctantly toward the exit, and the consorts of the various palaces were the last to leave. Even Hao Yue, who would have wished to stay, dared not show any irregularity now — certain things could not be openly known; it could cost a life.
The Empress Dowager descended from her elevated seat. Her ceremonial crown, her pearl pendants, her jade ornaments — all of incomparable splendor — and yet none of it could conceal the desolation that had settled over her.
She helped Hua Zhi rise to her feet; it was unclear whether she was steadying Hua Zhi, or whether Hua Zhi was steadying her, or whether the two were simply steadying one another as they made their way toward the door. Passing beside her grandson, she sighed: “You are uncle and nephew. For now, that is the only thing you can be. Before you do anything in haste — think of Daqing’s rivers and mountains. Think of the Chaoli tribe pressing in from all sides.”
They stepped across the threshold. The door fell shut behind them with a heavy sound. The sky had gone completely dark — a deep, suffocating black, like the stone pressing down upon her heart.
“Would you care to come with me to Fushou Palace?”
“I will wait for him here.” Hua Zhi looked toward the one elder who truly cared for Yan Xi with her whole heart. “Be it fortune or disaster — I will be at his side to face it.”
In the dim light one could not see clearly, but it seemed the Empress Dowager smiled faintly. “I did not think it would come to this.”
Yet now that it had, she found she was not surprised. Every person had their dragon scale — the one place that could not be touched, the one vulnerability they could not surrender. Yan Xi had not had any of these before. Now he did. And the Emperor had reached out to tear away his most vital rib, to press a finger against that one inviolable place. He could not be expected to yield that which he held most dear with both hands outstretched, the way those with no backbone would — power meant nothing to her grandson, neither did gain. She had always believed the Emperor understood this. She had also believed the Emperor bore Yan Xi some genuine feeling. And yet it seemed she had overestimated him. There was feeling, perhaps — but only in circumstances where none of the Emperor’s own interests were at stake. Yet he had expected Yan Xi to offer up his true feeling in return. How could that ever be?
After what had happened tonight, she no longer knew how she could ask Yan Xi, in good conscience, to consider the greater good.
She lightly brushed her sleeve, then turned and left. Hua Zhi observed the proper courtesies in seeing her off, then looked back once at the great doors. She walked to the steps and sat down to wait.
Inside the hall, under the gaze of his imperial uncle, Gu Yanxi stepped forward again — one step at a time, as though walking on the edge of a blade. The pain was such that his eyes had gone red, yet the rest of his body had gone so numb that he felt nothing at all. There was a ringing in his ears, and the figures before him seemed like shadows without substance.
His mind held only a single question: why?
He had wanted only one thing — Hua Zhi. He had asked for only one thing — Hua Zhi. His imperial uncle had known, clearly and completely. So why did he still intend to take her away?
But he did not ask. He bent down and placed the mask gently on the ground before him, then removed his official’s robe, rolled it together, and placed it atop the mask. He withdrew the seal of the Seven Lodges’ head, along with his Shizi seal, and set both upon the pile. Then he knelt and performed the full ceremonial bow.
“From this day forward — there is no longer a head of the Seven Lodges.”
The Emperor shook — whether from fury or something else could not be said. The hand he pointed at his nephew trembled. “You — you —”
“The existence of the Seven Lodges has become an obstacle to Daqing. Perhaps there will come a time to establish it anew — but for now, it is no longer needed. The members of the Seven Lodges may serve as shadow guards placed at Your Majesty’s disposal, acting upon orders as required. A roster will be presented in due course, and all matters currently under their management will be compiled and recorded in full.”
Gu Yanxi’s expression was utterly serene. He took no notice of the Emperor’s fury. His gaze did not even fall upon the Emperor — his eyes rested on some point in the empty air. “Your subject will, before long, formalize a betrothal with Hua Zhi. There is no need to separately report this to Your Majesty.”
Having said all he wished to say, Gu Yanxi rose and took his leave.
“Gu — Yan — Xi!”
Gu Yanxi paid no heed and walked straight toward the door.
A thunderous crash — then another, and another. The Emperor overturned the tables nearest to him. Seeing that Gu Yanxi still did not respond, he seized the nearest object and hurled it at him. The bronze goblet struck him squarely in the back with perfect aim. Gu Yanxi made no move to dodge it, simply took the blow, and kept walking.
“You treacherous wretch — do you mean to rebel?!”
At last, Gu Yanxi stopped walking.
A strange flash of satisfaction crossed the Emperor’s mind. Still can’t hold you, can I?
“You no longer command the Seven Lodges. If We then strip you of your Shizi title, you will be nothing but an ordinary member of the imperial household. Gu Yanxi — have you thought this through?”
“It is exactly what I seek.” Gu Yanxi turned around. He repeated the words with emphasis. “Your subject seeks it earnestly.”
“You—!” The Emperor’s breathing grew more ragged. “Walk out that door today and We will cast you out from the imperial clan!”
“This subject thanks Your Majesty for the kindness.” Gu Yanxi smiled — an expression so light, so unguarded, as though he had received precisely what he had long desired. “This subject has wanted very much to live the life of an ordinary person. Each day — the simplest things, food and firewood, the small affairs of a household. Concern without calculation behind it. Sweetness without poison wrapped inside. No more lying awake through the nights. No more blood on the blade’s edge… I have wanted that life for many years now. If Your Majesty is willing to grant it, it would not be unworthy of the years I spent sharing Your Majesty’s burdens — not unworthy of having once…”
…regarded you as a father.
It was as though every sense rushed back at once. Grief came crashing down, vast and all-encompassing, and each breath tore at him as though it would split him apart.
He had been seventeen years old when everything fell apart. His imperial uncle had appeared before him like a god, shielding him from every blow, summoning the finest teachers to his side, deciding on his behalf what he believed to be the best path forward — everything that his own father had never given him, his imperial uncle had given. All of it.
Who in the entire court did not know that the Shizi was favored beyond measure — there had even been whispers that he was in truth an imperial son, and even the princes themselves had suspected it, treating him as a potential rival. And back then, he had thought to himself: he will be the uncle to whom I am as a son, fighting for his realm and guarding it for him, holding the Seven Lodges for him, being the sword in his hand — he points, and I strike, without question.
Then why had it come to this? He had never once harbored a disloyal or negligent thought. So why — knowing full well that he loved Hua Zhi as he loved his own life — did he still choose to press upon the bloodiest part of him and take her away?
Ten years of something that felt like father and son. Ten years of something that felt like family. How could it crumble so swiftly, so completely?
Gu Yanxi raised his head. His expression hovered somewhere between a smile and grief. “Imperial Uncle — what have I ever been to you? Were you not the one who said you treated me better than your own sons? Were you not the one who said I had special standing in your eyes that no one else had? Then why can you not let Hua Zhi be? You know full well she is my life. Do you want my life? Take it — I give it to you.”
In that instant, a dagger appeared in Gu Yanxi’s hand — dark reddish in color, its edge mercilessly sharp.
“Yan Xi!”
The Emperor moved at a speed that should have been impossible for him — yet he was still too late. He could only watch as Yan Xi, steadily, unhurriedly, drove that dagger inch by inch into his own chest.