The 200 men who remained had all volunteered. Far more than 200 had signed up, but Prefect Yu insisted on accepting no more than that.
He returned to his room in the city gate tower.
He sat on the couch, calmly closed his eyes, and tried to take a short nap. But strangely enough, though he felt dizzy and lightheaded, his mind was crystal clear, and he couldn’t fall asleep at all.
He raised his hand, wanting to touch the warm, hard jade ring at his waist, but his hand met only emptiness.
Shu Changyu sighed inwardly—if only that jade ring were there right now.
Or rather… if only the person who had given him the jade ring were here.
He wondered what Jing Mu’s reaction would be when he heard the news of his death. But since he had already died once in his previous life, Jing Mu should be able to handle it a little better this time.
Just then, the door burst open.
Shu Changyu opened his eyes to see Shen Ziyu standing in the doorway. His armor was drenched in blood, and with the light behind him, Shu Changyu couldn’t make out his expression.
“Lord Shu!” He took two steps inside, knelt on one knee, his voice slightly choked with emotion. “You… you can’t do this!”
Shu Changyu opened his eyes and looked at him, shaking his head with a wry smile: “There’s no other way now.”
Shen Ziyu clenched his teeth. “You… have already done so much for Huzhou, Minister Shu. You shouldn’t die.”
Though Shu Changyu was in excruciating pain at that moment, he felt a sense of relief and satisfaction. His nerves had been on edge for four days, and now, finally… there was a resolution.
Shu Changyu shook his head with a smile: “No one should die. But if my death can save the majority of Huzhou’s people, then it will be worth it.” As he spoke, he felt a searing pain in the wound on his chest. He reached down to his side, picked up two □□ leaves, and began chewing them.
These past few days, he had relied on these medicinal leaves to sustain his battered body. By now, it had almost become a habit.
Shen Ziyu, however, shook his head. “Minister Shu, you shouldn’t die for anyone’s sake.” He looked up and fixed his gaze on Shu Changyu, his tone leaving no room for argument. “There are two more hours left, Minister Shu. You must evacuate with the people.”
Shu Changyu didn’t want to argue with him about this any further. He swallowed the leaf, and a tingling sensation gradually replaced the pain in his chest. He took two shallow breaths to steady himself and asked, “Have your parents and younger sister been taken care of?”
Shen Ziyu clenched his teeth. “The Prefect wouldn’t let me stay.”
Shu Changyu’s lips curled into a smile. “Then that’s just as well. I have a favor to ask of you now, and I hope you’ll agree.”
Shen Ziyu looked at him with reddened eyes.
Shu Changyu continued, “Go to my residence and help me escort two people out of the city. One is named Kongqing, a boy of about ten who’s been with me since childhood. The other is Shu Xunzhi, just four years old—my daughter. These two are the only people I care about now. Please take good care of them and see them safely out of the city; ideally, they should return to the capital.”
“Lord Shu…” Shen Ziyu’s eyes widened in fury.
At this point, Shu Changyu coughed twice and felt his dizziness intensify. He picked up the paper and brush from the table and continued, “There’s still plenty of time. In a moment, take a letter to Kong Qing for me and tell him to deliver it to my mother once he returns home.”
With that, Shu Changyu picked up the brush and began writing the letter.
But after writing the opening lines, he didn’t know how to continue. He paused for a moment, then simply crumpled the paper into a ball.
“Never mind,” Shu Changyu said. “You go ahead. I’ll rest for a while.”
To Shen Ziyu, Shu Changyu’s demeanor—so detached from life and death, as if he were ready to face death head-on—felt as though it were tearing his heart apart.
In the past, Shu Changyu had diligently managed the Yellow River; when faced with a formidable enemy, he had turned the tide and even saved Shen Ziyu’s life. Shu Changyu had always been a figure Shen Ziyu looked up to as an idol, and now he was also his savior. Such a noble and upright man was like a guiding star that Shen Ziyu had always pursued in his life.
But now, that star was about to fall.
Gritting his teeth, he said, “Minister Shu, today, I will definitely take you away. I cannot stand by and watch you die in vain.”
Shu Changyu shook his head. “Shen Ziyu,” he said. “You can force someone who wants to live to die, but you cannot force someone who is determined to die to live on.”
At this, he curved his lips into a smile. “I’m afraid young men of your age are all so impulsive and hotheaded. I once had a… disciple whose temperament was somewhat like yours.”
As he spoke, Shu Changyu’s lips curved into a smile.
Shen Ziyu looked up at him, sensing that the smile on his face was unlike any he had seen before. That smile was gentle yet tinged with sweetness—warm and soft, like peach blossoms bathed in spring sunlight. Shu Changyu’s face was naturally clear and dignified, but when he smiled like this, it was a breathtaking, almost miraculous sight.
The moment passed in an instant, and Shu Changyu turned his gaze back to Shen Ziyu.
“But in the face of the greater good, what does the life or death of a single person matter?” He smiled faintly. “If we were to concern ourselves only with our own lives, even more people would be scattered and separated. In my position, I must take responsibility for all the people of Huzhou.”
At this, he lowered his eyes and said, “Go now. Take good care of those two for me. Thank you.”
The rain hadn’t stopped; in fact, it was falling harder and harder.
The dark red blood that had already congealed on the city walls was being washed away bit by bit by the rain. As the rain fell on the bloodstains, it mingled with them to form a dark red hue, pooling into small, blood-red puddles on the city gate tower.
The tattered banners on the city gate tower clung limply to their poles, while the scattered weapons and armor grew increasingly gleaming under the rain’s wash.
There was still half a shi of time left until their appointed hour. By now, the people of Huzhou had been gathered at the back gate, and not a single person remained by Shu Changyu’s side. The city walls of Huzhou, which had once echoed with the ceaseless clangor of battle all day long, were now so silent that only the sound of the wind and rain could be heard.
He rested his heavy head and closed his eyes for a moment, hearing only the faint clang of weapons. The sounds of battle mingled with the ringing in his ears, creating an illusion-like sensation.
A moment later, he forced his eyes open, grabbed an oil-paper umbrella from nearby, pushed open the door, and held it over his head.
The moment the door opened, the sounds of battle—which had seemed like an illusion—suddenly grew louder. Shu Changyu froze, and through his slightly blurred vision, he saw the scene unfolding before him—
A sea of silver armor and red plumes surged from behind the rebel forces, throwing their ranks into utter disarray. Among them was a figure clad in black armor, a dark red cloak fluttering behind him, and a red plume adorning his helmet, mounted on a black horse. Leading a contingent of men and horses, he hacked a bloody path with his mo dao, charging straight toward Huzhou City.
Shu Changyu could not believe his eyes. He focused his gaze, and even through the thick curtain of rain, he vaguely recognized the man on horseback wielding the mo dao.
…It was Jing Mu.
Even though they hadn’t seen each other in three years, and even though the man’s heavy armor obscured his face, Shu Changyu recognized him at a glance: it was Jing Mu.
He unconsciously let go of his grip, not even noticing that his oil-paper umbrella had fallen to the ground. He stared intently at the base of the city wall, then, as if he’d lost all reason, turned and rushed down the city tower.
Rainwater and bloodstains mingled on the stairs. Shu Changyu felt lightheaded and weak in the legs; he nearly slipped several times and could only barely steady himself by clinging to the railing on one side. He came to a halt at the base of the rampart. Though his voice was hoarse, it had long since lost the detachment and calm of moments before.
“All soldiers, heed my command! Reinforcements have arrived—open the city gates!”
——
Shu Changyu had already changed into dry clothes and took a towel from one of the guards standing nearby to dry his hair.
He did not look at Jing Mu, but he could vaguely sense that unmistakable gaze fixed upon him.
After three years apart, Jing Mu had grown like a towering pine tree, looking vastly different from before. Three years ago, though he was taller than his peers, he still had the build of a teenager. But now, he was actually more than a head taller than Shu Changyu, with broad shoulders and long legs; even clad in such heavy armor, he did not look cramped.
Jing Mu’s features had also matured, already taking on the dignified and profound appearance he had possessed in his previous life. His browbones and nasal bridge were particularly prominent, making his eye sockets appear extremely deep, and his narrow, elongated eyes seemed even more piercing. Shu Changyu was accustomed to this appearance from his previous life, but the Jing Mu before him now felt somewhat unfamiliar.
It was his expression and gaze.
Jing Mu now appeared stern and taciturn, his eyes particularly deep—like a dark pool—making it impossible to discern his emotions. As he looked at Shu Changyu, Shu Changyu could no longer sense the warmth and reliance of the past; instead, he felt a heavy sense of oppression weighing heavily on his heart.
Shu Changyu sighed quietly to himself—he’d truly grown up.
He’d missed Jing Mu terribly during the three years they’d been apart. But now that they’d met again, he’d miraculously calmed down. He didn’t know if this sense of calm stemmed from finally finding a sense of belonging or something else. In any case, even though he now felt as if he had a fever—the effects of the medicine from the leaves were gradually wearing off, and his chest ached terribly—he was still able to sit there calmly, lift a cup of hot tea, and take a sip.
Just moments ago, all the turmoil and emotion within him had erupted the instant the city gates opened and he saw Jing Mu.
…How could he not miss him? He thought of him every single moment.
Yet, when he saw Jing Mu, he was left speechless. Through the curtain of rain, he looked up and stared at the figure riding toward him—a figure both familiar and陌生—and for a moment, he couldn’t utter a single word.
At that moment, the other man reined in his warhorse and came to a halt; through his armor, he seemed to be looking down at him.
Separated by the curtain of rain—one standing within the city, the other mounted at the city gate—they stood facing each other in silence.
Shu Changyu had imagined many scenarios for their reunion, and up until today, he had assumed it would inevitably be a parting of life and death. Yet he never imagined that the two of them would meet again at his lowest ebb, under such circumstances.
After a moment, Shu Changyu paused and bowed deeply.
“This servant, Shu Changyu, humbly welcomes the imperial reinforcements. Long live the Emperor! Long live the Emperor! Long, long live the Emperor!”
Before he could straighten up, he heard a loud crack of a whip through the rain. Jing Mu had actually raised his hand to crack his riding crop, yanked the reins, and, riding at a trot, circled around him and rode straight into the city.
As he passed Shu Changyu, a warm, dark red cloak—smelling of blood, iron armor, and dust—fell from above, covering Shu Changyu’s head completely.
Author’s Note: Jing Mu has arrived!!
Jing Mu: “Since I haven’t appeared in a while, I’m being really fierce.”