Jingping, Year Ten.

Early winter.

Second watch, second quarter. Xie Erlide had just walked out of the study door when Zhu Qing hurried into the courtyard and whispered a few words in his ear. Xie Erlide’s expression changed drastically.

Master and servant went straight toward the back gate.

Outside, a black carriage stopped at the door. Xie Erlide straightened his clothing and official cap, grasped Zhu Qing’s hand for support, and mounted the carriage.

The driver with deep-set eyes glanced at Zhu Qing, then raised his whip and departed.

Zhu Qing sighed in his heart.

How many times had this been?

It seemed to have started after Master entered the cabinet—once every six months.

That person always came late at night, and no one knew where he took Master. If Third Master and Young Master Pei were still in the capital, he’d most likely be taken to the boat on the Yongding River.

Zhu Qing shook his head.

Third Master and Young Master Pei had been gone eleven years—why did he keep thinking of these old almanac matters?

…

Inside the carriage.

After Xie Erlide completed his ritual greeting, he said: “Does Your Majesty wish to play chess with this subject today, or have this subject read to you?”

The middle-aged emperor said indifferently: “Neither is necessary. I’m taking you somewhere.”

Hearing this voice, Xie Erlide asked with concern: “Your Majesty’s voice is a bit hoarse. Have you caught a cold?”

“Recently I sleep lightly—asleep at the third watch, awake at the fourth.”

Emperor Jingping, Zhao Yishi: “Young Imperial Physician Pei has examined my pulse and says there’s nothing wrong. You need not worry.”

Xie Erlide: “State affairs cannot do without Your Majesty. Please take care of your dragon body.”

Zhao Yishi waved his hand: “If the King of Hell wants you at the third watch, he won’t keep you till the fifth. Everything has its destined fate.”

Xie Erlide looked at the haggard emperor before him, words catching in his throat.

He had personally experienced three generations of emperors and read about countless enlightened rulers in history books. Not one emperor could compare to this one before him—he didn’t lust after women, wasn’t greedy for wealth, and devoted his heart wholeheartedly to state affairs.

This truly was the most peaceful and prosperous ten years since the nation’s founding. Even the little beggars in the capital had decreased significantly.

Only, excess was as bad as deficiency.

The painstaking effort in state affairs greatly consumed His Majesty’s spirit and energy. In the past year, his health had worsened day by day.

…

The carriage stopped before a residence.

Xie Erlide got off and looked up. His heart skipped a beat—it was actually the estate where Yan Sanhe used to live.

This estate originally belonged to Pei Mingting. After they left, the estate became the Crown Prince’s private residence, often with guards watching over it.

Sometimes when the Pei couple missed their son too much, they would come look from afar.

The vermilion gate creaked open.

“Minister Xie, follow me inside for a walk!”

“Yes!”

The familiar residence, the familiar paths—the bluestone road on both sides was kept clean and tidy, not a single weed, as if it still looked like when they had lived here.

“I haven’t allowed outsiders to come here. You’re the first.”

“It is this subject’s honor.”

Xie Erlide followed anxiously behind the emperor, stepping into the study.

The study’s furnishings were completely different from before—just like a small imperial study, even the charcoal basin in the corner was carved with dragon patterns, very exquisite.

Zhao Yishi sat down at the desk.

Shen Chong poured tea.

In the tea’s fragrance, Zhao Yishi suddenly gazed toward a white wall and said indifferently:

“Once a month, I spend a day here working and resting—sleeping in the courtyard where your Third Brother and Mingting used to live.”

Xie Erlide was greatly shocked.

“Minister Xie, do you know what I often think about here?”

“Your Majesty, this subject cannot guess.”

Zhao Yishi stroked the beard by his lips. “I often think about how to be a good emperor, to bring peace to the people and peace to the realm.”

Xie Erlide quickly said: “Your Majesty, the seas are calm and the rivers clear, the seasons harmonious and the years abundant. You have achieved this.”

Zhao Yishi smiled lightly, withdrawing his gaze from the white wall. “Chengyu and the others—has there been any news?”

Xie Erlide’s heartbeat suddenly quickened.

He had entered the Ministry of Rites as Vice Minister, then Minister, and finally became the youngest cabinet minister in the nation. The opportunities for lord and subject to meet were countless, yet they had never spoken of his Third Brother.

Third Brother, Xie Zhifei, Xie Chengyu, Xie Fifty—these words were taboo between lord and subject by tacit agreement.

Xie Erlide had originally thought that once he became emperor, Third Brother and Mingting could return.

Who knew it would be exactly the opposite? Originally there had been bits and pieces of messages sent back, but after he ascended the throne, only things arrived.

First it was mushrooms from Mount Wutai;

Then porcelain from Jingdezhen;

After that…

The one constant was that these things always contained a sheet or two of Buddhist sutras.

Six years ago, the handwriting on the sutras clearly changed. Xie Erlide could tell at a glance it was a child’s writing.

The characters in their family were well-written from the start. Over these six years, they showed quite a bit of the style of calligraphy masters;

The Pei family’s side wrote like dog scratches—six years ago it was so, six years later it was still so, not a bit of improvement.

But even so, Uncle Pei treated them as treasures, pressing them under his pillow when he slept.

Gradually, he and Uncle Pei understood something: Third Brother and Mingting were avoiding this person before them.

Xie Erlide shook his head. “No news at all. Don’t even know if they’re alive or dead.”

Zhao Yishi’s deep eyes looked at Xie Erlide. “Last night I dreamed of them—one was angry, one was coaxing.”

Xie Erlide responded carefully: “When those two are together, they always quarrel and make noise—very lively.”

Zhao Yishi sighed: “Liveliness is good—at least it’s not too cold and quiet.”

Xie Erlide didn’t know how to respond. He lowered his head slightly, remaining silent.

Zhao Yishi looked at him and asked: “Minister Xie, do you know why emperors throughout history all live in deep palaces, and you must pass through so many palace gates to see me?”

“The deep palace can protect Your Majesty.”

“That’s rather shallow. A martial artist can only practice peerless martial arts by staying in deep mountains where his heart can settle. Taoist priests and monks can only cultivate themselves by hiding in deserted places.”

Zhao Yishi’s gaze sharpened, looking toward the window.

“And emperors live in deep palaces because only by living as a solitary person can they sit firmly on this throne.”

He looked at Xie Erlide’s somewhat pale face and suddenly smiled.

“Minister Xie, with such a prosperous age, I am also worthy.”

“Your Majesty is an emperor for the ages, a sage through the gen…”

Just as Xie Erlide was about to continue praising, from the corner of his eye he saw the Emperor close his eyes and say indifferently: “You may go!”

“This subject takes his leave.”

Xie Erlide stood up, completed his ritual farewell, and respectfully withdrew.

When closing the door, he couldn’t help but lift his eyelids—

He saw the emperor wearing a black robe, sitting in a grand master’s chair. Though the lamplight was bright, though the study was warm as spring, Xie Erlide felt as if he sat in darkness, sat in cold wind.

Utterly alone.

…

On the road home, Xie Erlide repeatedly pondered the Emperor’s words, always feeling uneasy.

Returning to his room and lying beside Lady Zhu, holding her in his arms, his heart still wasn’t at peace.

For three days in a row, it was the same every day.

On the fourth day, heavy snow fell. Xie Erlide drank a bowl of calming soup and went to bed early to rest.

But sleeping until midnight, he suddenly heard a thunderclap and was so frightened he sat straight up in bed.

Lady Zhu was also awakened, murmuring: “Thunder during snowfall—not an auspicious sign!”

Xie Erlide thought for a moment. “Tomorrow I’ll write a letter to Elder Brother, asking him to help…”

Before finishing his words, a bell toll drilled into both their ears.

Lady Zhu was so shocked she grabbed the man’s arm. “Master, this, what is this sound?”

Xie Erlide didn’t speak. Two streams of hot tears slid from the corners of his eyes.

After a long while, he forced out three words with difficulty.

“The mountain! Mausoleum! Has collapsed!”

…

Jingping, Year Ten.

Eleventh month, twenty-fourth day, second watch, second quarter.

The mourning bell belonging to Emperor Jingping rang. He died in the imperial study, still holding a memorial in his hand when he fell.

He was thirty-five years old.

No one dared believe the emperor in his prime would depart so suddenly, but Zhao Yishi himself seemed to have foreseen this day.

Three days earlier, he had selected four regent ministers for the young Crown Prince.

Minister Xie of the Cabinet was one of them.

The terrible news spread. Inside and outside the palace, crying filled the air.

The entire capital was under martial law.

At dawn, a coffin of golden nanmu wood was carried into the palace.

Head Eunuch Wang Yin, leading a group of old eunuchs, bathed and dressed the emperor’s body, then placed it in the coffin.

The young Crown Prince wore mourning and kept vigil.

As both a cabinet minister and Minister of Rites, also serving as a regent minister, Xie Erlide was urgently summoned to the palace to preside over the funeral arrangements.

The other three regent ministers also arrived one after another.

Matters were arranged one by one, orderly. They worked straight through until the second watch the next day before the four regent ministers ate their first hot meal.

Xie Erlide had no appetite. He only drank a bowl of hot soup before going to the mourning hall to see the Crown Prince.

The Crown Prince had just turned nine. At this moment, he was curled up in a eunuch’s arms, his head bobbing like a pecking chicken as he dozed, completely unaware of the thousand-catty burden about to fall on his shoulders.

Xie Erlide lit incense, kowtowed, took the white paper a eunuch handed him, and threw it into the fire basin.

In the leaping firelight, he heard a small “crack.”

What was that sound?

Before he could react, another “crack.”

This time he heard clearly—like something splitting open.

Xie Erlide was so frightened his hair stood on end.

At this moment, the Crown Prince, awakened by the cracking sound, suddenly stretched out his hand, pointing at the black coffin before him, saying in a thin voice:

“Look quickly—Father Emperor’s coffin… has cracked open!”

Xie Erlide was so scared he fell to the ground on his bottom.

His soul flew away!

(The End)