In the early summer of the thirty-third year of Zhaoming, while the Jingbei Prince used the seasoned commander Yang Zexing of the Cangdao Army and the inspector Qing Yan to lead the Southwest Army in suppressing Xiyan to the point of suffocation, he also raised troops under the banner of safeguarding the nation, personally leading fifty thousand Jingbei soldiers in a grand march toward the capital. However, upon reaching Anyang, they suddenly vanished, avoiding all interception, only to reappear silently outside the gates of Zhao Jing, as if aided by divine intervention.
What unfolded in Zhao Jing was one of the most peculiar events in its history: the Commander of the Capital Guard feigned illness and shut his doors, the Nine Gates Commandant refused to leave his quarters, the Imperial Guard commander found his troops unresponsive, the common folk were jubilant, civilian officials were in a state of panic, military officers watched coldly, and rumors of the Jingbei Prince being aided by a divine general spread like wildfire...
The Jingbei Prince sat firmly in his central military tent, neither launching an assault on the capital nor accepting any visitors or invitations, even turning away the still-recovering Luo Mei. He remained steadfast until the imperial edict of abdication was issued.
In the summer of the thirty-third year of Zhaoming, on the ninth day of the sixth month, the new emperor ascended the throne, swiftly and ruthlessly restoring order to the court. He changed the era name to Jingping and granted amnesty throughout the land, later known in history as Emperor Yanwu.
In the autumn of the first year of Jingping, the new emperor refused Xiyan’s offer of peace and personally led a campaign against them. By the following spring, Xiyan was subdued, and together with Nan Yue, it was incorporated into the territory of Da Yan. From that point on, there was no more conflict on the southwestern frontiers of the Yan Empire.
＊＊＊
One breath of spring, one breath of autumn frost.
Mei Lin felt as though she had slept for a long time. When she opened her eyes, she saw the warm afternoon sun filtering through the window, filling the room with the fragrance of blooming spring flowers. She took a deep breath, savoring the delicate scent, and felt an indescribable comfort spreading through her body, making her feel languid and relaxed.
As she reveled in the softness of the bed, she suddenly caught sight of the smiling face of the shaman, and the memories of what had happened before came rushing back.
It turned out that on the day Murong Jing He hurried to Nan Yue, the shaman had casually mentioned Mei Lin’s intimate relationship with Murong Jing He in front of Luo Mei. Yet throughout, Luo Mei never questioned Murong Jing He about it, nor did she show any sign of displeasure. That was when Mei Lin realized that Luo Mei must have developed the intent to kill her. Otherwise, with her strong-willed nature, how could she have tolerated such a situation? Furthermore, as Mei Lin’s vitality began to drain from her body, she felt, for the first time, the unmistakable presence of death—a feeling she had never experienced, even when the old herbalist had repeatedly told her she didn’t have long to live. With Murong Jing He and Qing Yan both absent, who would stop Luo Mei from killing her, now that she was too weak to resist? It was then that Mei Lin truly believed she was going to die.
Since she was going to die, why not do a good deed before she went? She had never done anything particularly good in her life, and wasn’t even sure what defined a good deed. But perhaps a moment of clarity came over her, allowing her to understand his feelings toward her—those feelings that had been clouded by worldly concerns, those feelings that made him reluctant to let her go, even though he had ostensibly abandoned her. She thought, if she were to die just like this, he would surely be heartbroken. Perhaps it would even create a rift between him and the one who was supposed to support him in the future.
If she was going to die, what was there left to worry about? Why should she allow those who were still alive to continue suffering? So she did what she considered to be a good deed—she attacked his future empress, ensuring that he would hate her for it. Hate her, that would be better than him living in constant heartache.
Even as her consciousness faded, Mei Lin couldn’t quite understand why she was still so concerned about that bastard Murong Jing He—afraid he would hurt, afraid he would suffer, afraid he would be lonely, afraid he would be sad...
Now, having woken up, she still didn’t understand. What she understood even less was how she had come to wake up at all.
“Shaman?” She propped herself up, finding it difficult, her body stiff as if her bones had rusted, as though she hadn’t moved in a long time.
The shaman leaned over and placed a soft pillow behind her, helping her to sit up.
“You’ve slept for a year,” the shaman said. Over the past year, he had become quite proficient in the Yan language. In just a few words, he explained the situation to Mei Lin.
He had pushed her body’s vitality to the limit in order to completely remove the Gentleman Gu and give her a chance at rebirth, allowing her ravaged body to recover. Otherwise, even if the Gu were removed and the poison cured, her severely damaged body wouldn’t have survived for long. He explained that she had to “die” once, thoroughly and cleanly, so that she could be reborn, with the Gentleman Gu transforming into a thread of vitality within her heart and meridians. That was why he hadn’t stopped her when he saw her resolve to die, instead instructing Yue Qin to quickly take her body away from the palace.
Yue Qin, of course, knew nothing of this. He only knew that Mei Lin had tried to assassinate Luo Mei and, fearing Murong Jing He’s wrath, had stolen the body of a recently deceased girl, dressed it in Mei Lin’s clothes, and created a fake grave. But his work was sloppy, and the family of the deceased soon discovered what had happened. When Murong Jing He passed through the town carrying a body, the family recognized their lost daughter, revealing the truth of the matter.
Upon realizing that Mei Lin might not be dead, Murong Jing He, who had been through the depths of despair and joy, quickly regained his composure. He returned to Jingbei’s palace without showing any sign of his intentions and did not immediately confront Yue Qin about Mei Lin’s whereabouts. Instead, he calmly proceeded with his plans to seize the throne, all while secretly monitoring Yue Qin’s movements.
Yue Qin, blissfully unaware that his secret had been discovered, eventually assumed that Murong Jing He had forgotten about the matter and secretly went to visit Mei Lin. Naturally, this led to her location being exposed.
Murong Jing He did not act hastily. It was only after he had secured the throne that he had Mei Lin and the shaman moved to this garden, where spring flowers bloomed all year round. Mei Lin remained asleep while he continued to wage his wars. Now that peace had finally been achieved, Mei Lin had awoken, her body fully restored.
Of course, the shaman didn’t mention any of this to Mei Lin. He thought those were matters that didn’t need to be explained by him. However, he did tell Mei Lin that in this garden, the flowers of spring would bloom all year round.
To Mei Lin’s surprise, she had indeed come back to life. Although she still couldn’t move much, she felt much better than before. No, it wasn’t just that—it was as if her entire body was filled with a newfound vitality.
“Is the Gentleman Gu still there?” Mei Lin asked. After all the suffering it had caused her, she couldn’t quite put her feelings about it into words.
The shaman smiled. “Of course not. The moment you woke up, it transformed into a thread of vitality within your meridians.”
Mei Lin let out a sigh of relief, feeling lighter than ever before. She turned to look at the intricately carved window, where the warm breeze of spring blew in, carrying the unique warmth and softness of the season. A smile slowly spread across her lips.
So, he had become the emperor… It turned out he had always wanted to be emperor. Now it made sense why he had to marry Luo Mei, why he couldn’t take her as his wife. After all, no emperor would marry a woman of such lowly birth and status as herself. But why had he kept her here?
Suddenly, Mei Lin felt a bit troubled. Now that the world was his, wouldn’t that mean he could be even more domineering and unreasonable?
0 Comments