After several days, the rain finally lessened, but the imperial road had turned into a stretch of deep mud.
Qudu was plunged into a bleak pallor. The young Emperor Tianchen had suddenly died, and rumors spread like wildfire: Dingdu Marquis Xiao Chiye had joined with the Vice Commander of the Imperial Guards and Commander of the Northern Surveillance Office, Shen Zechuan, to assassinate the emperor and attempt a rebellion. The whispers traveled from house to house behind tightly shut doors.
Because Emperor Tianchen had left no heir, the officials petitioned the Empress Dowager to step forward and stabilize the court. She refused repeatedly, claiming that the inner palace must not interfere in state affairs. Only after the Commander of the Imperial Guards, Han Cheng, kowtowed three times in earnest remonstration was she finally persuaded to appear.
The Eight Great Camps reassumed patrol duties in Qudu. Day and night, patrol units marched through the streets. Ordinary families dared not step outside; taverns and pleasure houses were all shut. The former prosperity felt like something from yesterday’s distant past. Even the vermilion palace walls and glazed tiles of Qudu seemed washed pale by the drifting rain.
During the mourning rites, Hai Liangyi had fainted several times. Now he lay in bed, unable to swallow even a mouthful of medicine. It seemed as if his hair had turned completely white overnight. The eyes that once shone with intelligence had grown dull, and after shedding all their tears, they now appeared clouded and turbid.
“Teacher,” Kong Qiu said, sitting below with his head lowered, “you must take the medicine. The realm is in chaos now. Everyone is still waiting for you to steady the world again… You must take care of your health.”
The tear tracks at the corners of Hai Liangyi’s eyes had not yet dried. His gaze wandered, and after a long while he said, “Steady the world again? Boran, I no longer have the strength to reverse heaven’s will.”
In the courtyard, the bamboo water tube knocked lightly against the stream stones, its surface cracked and split. The rain fell soundlessly, yet those scars could not be hidden. Hai Liangyi was simply too old. His spirit had long been worn away by the tides of official life, and now he showed signs of a sickness that might never let him rise again.
Kong Qiu was suddenly overcome with grief. Sitting there, he covered his face and wept. “How… how did it come to this!”
“Han Cheng speaks like a Buddha but hides a serpent’s heart. Narrow-minded and vindictive—now that he has seized power, every official in the court will live in fear. He has driven Xiao Chiye away. Once Libei is gone, there will be no more restraints… and from then on—”
Hai Liangyi suddenly began to cough violently. Supporting himself against the bed, he spat out blood. His emotions surged beyond control, and clutching the bedframe he cried hoarsely:
“From then on the borders will shatter, chaos will rise, and the Li family’s century of rule will end here! I am guilty—I am guilty! All my life, Hai Renshi schemed and struggled in the official world, yet in the end I only made wedding garments for these people! I… I…”
With his pale white hair, Hai Liangyi bent over and wept. His voice was hoarse with despair—an utterly tragic sound.
“Teacher! Teacher!” Kong Qiu rushed forward to support him, then shouted in panic, “Someone come!”
The curtain was lifted—but the person who entered was Yao Wenyu.
Seeing the scene, he immediately knelt by the footstool without caring about the filth. While wiping away Hai Liangyi’s tears and blood, he directed the servants to bring water and soak cloths. After settling Hai Liangyi back onto the bed and soothing him for a while, he softly said to Kong Qiu, “Minister, please step outside.”
Kong Qiu dared not disturb further and quickly withdrew, waiting in the outer room.
After a long time, Hai Liangyi’s sobbing gradually subsided. Yao Wenyu personally fed his teacher the medicine. Only after Hai Liangyi fell asleep did he lift the curtain and step out.
Kong Qiu wanted to speak, but Yao Wenyu signaled for him to follow a servant to the main hall. He himself passed through the corridor to change into clean clothes before returning.
“Apologies for the wait, Minister,” Yao Wenyu said, having tea served as he took a seat below Kong Qiu.
Holding his teacup, Kong Qiu was silent for a moment before saying, “Teacher has no sons. With you caring for him, I feel relieved. I should not have brought up these matters today… It only made him grieve.”
“Although Teacher returned home because of illness, his heart still worries about state affairs. Even if you had not mentioned it, he would still struggle to let it go. It may be better that he cried today rather than letting it remain bottled up inside.” Yao Wenyu stirred his tea lightly. “But with the current unstable situation, Teacher will not be able to rest for many days.”
Kong Qiu knew Hai Liangyi treated him like a son, so he did not hide the truth. Sighing, he said, “The emperor died so suddenly that we have already fallen behind. The Han faction now controls the military power of Qudu. With the Empress Dowager ruling the court, the situation can no longer be reversed. And after what has happened to Libei… what should we do from here?”
Yao Wenyu’s complexion was pale; holding the teacup, he seemed almost as white as porcelain. He said, “Since matters have reached this point, the urgent thing is to discuss countermeasures. Han Cheng’s official post is Commander of the Imperial Guards. If he wants to overstep and enter the cabinet to handle state affairs, he must request an imperial decree from the Empress Dowager. Therefore he is not without weaknesses. Wei Huaigu committed suicide by poison because of the military grain case, leaving a vacancy in the cabinet. That seat must be filled temporarily by you, Minister. In that case, the major affairs of the court will still require the signatures of you officials, with Teacher at the head.”
Kong Qiu set down his cup and asked humbly, “But with the Empress Dowager in power, the cabinet could be reshuffled at her whim. If she uses an excuse to replace us, what then?”
Yao Wenyu smiled faintly. “The Empress Dowager’s rule is only an emergency measure. She is not surnamed Li; exercising imperial authority in the emperor’s stead cannot truly convince the court. What matters most is the Qi family. Qi Zhuyin may be lazy and uninterested in governance, but she bears the loyal reputation of the Qi clan. She will never allow the Empress Dowager and Han Cheng to run wild in Qudu. Since the Empress Dowager wants to win her over, she will not overstep at this time. Instead of worrying about her replacing people, Minister, you should worry about Han Cheng’s next move.”
Kong Qiu said, “Han Cheng is determined to attach himself to the Empress Dowager. He has already succeeded.”
“In my humble opinion,” Yao Wenyu replied, lifting his gaze toward the rain outside the doorway, “it is the opposite. Right now it looks as if Han Cheng is clinging to the Empress Dowager, but in the long run, it is the Empress Dowager who must rely on Han Cheng. She rose to power only because the emperor left no heir. The court cannot be without a ruler, so everyone reluctantly conceded. But the Great Zhou will certainly have a new emperor eventually. The military power in Han Cheng’s hands is the real substance. Since he dared to surround Xiao Chiye and attack the Hall of Clear Principles, it shows that he acts without fear.”
“You mean…” Kong Qiu said in shock. “Could it be that Han Cheng already has an imperial heir in his grasp?”
Yao Wenyu sipped his tea. “During Emperor Guangcheng’s reign, he often left the palace to stay outside. Whether he left behind an heir is hard to say. But the situation has reached this point. Even if Han Cheng does not have one, he will find a way to produce someone.”
Half of Kong Qiu’s heart turned cold.
“Han Cheng has troops and the Imperial Guards. Most officials have families. If conflict truly breaks out, they may not dare oppose him. If he forcibly installs someone on the Dragon Throne, then we…”
Yao Wenyu suddenly changed the subject and asked, “Have the Imperial Guards already passed through Dancheng?”
The Imperial Guards had already passed through Dancheng, though they had not yet reached Zhongbo territory. Xiao Chiye had been traveling at great speed, but both soldiers and horses needed rest. They halted midway.
Shen Zechuan was gravely ill. His emotional wounds and old ailments had flared together. Half-awake and half-asleep, he seemed to lie within a dream, swallowed again by rainwater and dirty blood.
Ever since the plague, Xiao Chiye had suspected that Shen Zechuan’s body had never truly recovered. The medicines he had taken in his youth had left hidden dangers. Xiao Chiye dared not take risks; as soon as they stopped, he immediately sought out a physician.
Shen Zechuan’s mind was muddled, a ringing echo filling his ears. He heard Xiao Chiye’s voice, yet it seemed mixed with the voice of his teacher calling to him.
Lying on the pillow, he woke several times, thinking he was still in Duanzhou. He smelled the fragrance of cooking and imagined his teacher’s wife, Hua Pingting, standing outside the door.
But he did not dare move, nor dare to look.
It seemed he possessed everything now—yet he still had nothing.
He had thought he had killed himself, that this body would no longer shed tears. But he had been too arrogant. That was only because he had not yet reached the deepest pain. Now that he had come this far, he felt as if he were simply being slowly cut apart.
Xiao Chiye held Shen Zechuan in his arms.
The once alluring nape of Shen Zechuan’s neck had turned deathly pale. He lay like a cloud stretched across the night. Xiao Chiye pressed close, gripping him so tightly it hurt.
“Are you cold?” Xiao Chiye asked softly.
Shen Zechuan nodded slowly. Turning his head, his cheek brushed Xiao Chiye’s cheek. The warmth there gave him a faint trace of life. In the darkness he reached out, weakly and slowly feeling along Xiao Chiye’s arm.
Xiao Chiye clasped his hand in return, their fingers interlocking tightly. He gave all his warmth to Shen Zechuan, his chest burning hot against Shen Zechuan’s back, as if he could melt him into his own body. It was as though he had taken Shen Zechuan into his mouth and would allow no one else near. Clumsily, he tried to lick away Shen Zechuan’s wounds—this was his way of healing. He did not want this person to suffer again.
“Qiao Tianya has gone to find my teacher,” Shen Zechuan said, his eyes dim. “When will he return?”
“Very soon,” Xiao Chiye said, gripping Shen Zechuan’s hand and repeating, “very soon.”
Shen Zechuan said quietly, “I can’t wipe the blood clean.”
“We walk the path of Asura together,” Xiao Chiye replied. “Stay close to me. We do not need to be clean.”
Shen Zechuan pressed his thin lips together. “I—”
He seemed to forget what he had wanted to say. He paused blankly, listening to the rain, then closed his mouth again.
Xiao Chiye pried open his clenched teeth and asked, “What were you going to tell me?”
Shen Zechuan turned his head in haste, refusing to let Xiao Chiye see his face. But Xiao Chiye held him firmly, not allowing him to hide, and asked again in a low voice:
“What were you going to tell me?”
Shen Zechuan’s face grew pale under that gaze. He tried to speak several times, yet no sound came out.
At last, after a long moment, Xiao Chiye heard him choke out in a broken voice:
“It hurts so much.”
Xiao Chiye cupped Shen Zechuan’s face.
Like a child again, Shen Zechuan’s lips trembled. Repeating “It hurts so much” over and over, he burst into tears.
Xiao Chiye stroked his hair, wiping away his tears with his thumb. “Where does it hurt? Tell me everything.”
Shen Zechuan sobbed uncontrollably, his shoulders shaking. He cried as if his heart and intestines were breaking apart, as if pouring out all the pain he had carried for years into this single night.
But he was so clumsy. He did not know where the pain came from. He only knew he could no longer endure it.
He let Xiao Chiye wipe his face helplessly, his eyes filled with tears. All the overripe cunning and calculation he once possessed had vanished, leaving only naked pain.
Xiao Chiye turned and wrapped him fully in his arms, giving Shen Zechuan a place where he could finally shed his disguise. They clung to each other tightly.
Xiao Chiye listened as Shen Zechuan cried until his voice turned hoarse—like an abandoned animal, like a child who had smashed his head bloody against the world.
Xiao Chiye’s chest gradually grew wet with tears. Stroking Shen Zechuan’s hair, he answered again and again:
“You will never hurt again. I promise—Lanzhou will never hurt again.”