On the last day of the tenth month of Longxing’s sixth year, the Great Zhou army advanced straight toward Shuangluan City—the capital of Great Liang.
Shuangluan City. Legend had it that when Great Yong’s founding emperor, Emperor Chen Shengzu, personally came to this land, two seven-colored luan birds appeared in the sky, their dance graceful, their feathers dazzling beyond compare. His strategist Zhang Heyan, seizing the moment, congratulated him, proclaiming that the sight of twin luans dancing was a divine omen—proof that this was a land destined for a flourishing empire. If they built the capital here, he said, the nation’s fortune would be secure and its blessings long-lasting.
Chen Shengzu was convinced. He made this city his capital, and named it Shuangluan City.
Of course, all of that was nothing more than legend dreamed up by later generations. When Fu Ye studied the map of Shuangluan City, what he saw was that Chen Shengzu had likely chosen the site because of its natural defenses—treacherous terrain that made it easy to defend and hard to attack.
The city sat high, surrounded on three sides by mountains, the fourth bordered by a river, with two great bridges and three narrow mountain passes serving as its only access points.
Now Huang Tianyi had already withdrawn into the city for some days. He hadn’t fled elsewhere. Instead, he had gathered all his remaining troops and supplies inside Shuangluan, clearly preparing to make his last stand.
And the Great Zhou army, according to the last report, was already within a hundred li of the city.
Fu Ye thought of the Battle of the Twin Dragons in the original story. He hadn’t expected it, but somehow it was playing out after all.
Only this time, it was happening in the other emperor’s palace.
It felt as if Fu Huang and Huang Tianyi had swapped fates.
Now, with Huang Tianyi down to just a handful of trusted generals and less than twenty thousand battered troops defending the capital, defeat was surely only a matter of time.
But that made it all the more nerve-wracking.
The whole world must have its eyes on this battle.
In the past few days, the Empress Dowager even took Fu Ye to the imperial ancestral temple to pray for the blessing of heaven and the ancestors.
Now that they stood at the brink of witnessing history, it was as if the Empress Dowager had forgotten all of Fu Huang’s past misdeeds.
And why not? When a man was poised to achieve a feat for the ages, everything else became trivial.
Fu Ye thought, when Fu Huang returned in triumph, he would be welcoming the brightest, most glorious days of his life.
The ministers would revere him. The people would worship him. His emperor would no longer be a man loved by him alone.
Oh, right. There was still Eunuch Qin.
At last, it wouldn’t just be the two of them who loved him!
Fu Ye could see Eunuch Qin was even more anxious than he was. The man had barely touched his food the past two days.
Over these months, Eunuch Qin’s hair had turned completely white.
By now, the army should have been camped outside Shuangluan City. The final assault on the capital would likely come today or tomorrow.
It was nerve-wracking.
Fu Ye himself could hardly sit still, his spirit stretched so taut he thought he might snap at any moment—let alone Eunuch Qin.
Really, more than worry, it was anticipation—a feeling like watching a great match, waiting for the moment history would be made.
But whether it was worry or anticipation, his heart pounded so hard it hurt, and not knowing exactly when the outcome would come made the waiting all the harder.
Fu Ye, worried that Eunuch Qin might collapse under the strain, decided to take him out for a walk, to help take his mind off things.
According to Zhao Ziying, with the army winning one victory after another, the spirit of the capital was soaring. People were so inspired that someone had even composed a ballad praising Fu Huang’s valor and might.
These days, whether it was in taverns, tea houses, or street stalls, it seemed like everyone had something to say about the state of the nation. And whenever Fu Huang’s name came up, they’d heap praise on him as if he were a god.
Fu Ye thought—he couldn’t miss out on hearing this for himself.
And of course, Eunuch Qin had to come along too.
He dressed both himself and Eunuch Qin in their finest autumn robes and said, “Today I’m going to steal a little time for myself and take a break.”
First, he took Eunuch Qin to Lotus Pavilion for a meal.
But as soon as they arrived, they found that on the first floor stage, a storyteller was already performing The Song of Ten Thousand Victories.
“Our Emperor’s never lost a fight,
East, west, north, south—they all bow in his sight.
Ten thousand miles of land submit,
And for all time, his glory’s writ!”
Fu Ye clapped his hands at once. “Bravo! Well sung!”
At his shout, the people nearby turned to look—and when they saw who he was, they froze in surprise. Then, one after another, they dropped to their knees in salute. The commotion spread, and soon everyone in Lotus Pavilion had noticed, and the whole place became so packed with people that it was impossible to move.
This startled Li Dun so much that he stuck close to Fu Ye’s side, guarding him step by step. The owner of Lotus Pavilion, the richest man in the capital, rushed over with his household guards as soon as he got word.
Xiao Ai said, “You’re the biggest star in Great Zhou!”
Fu Ye grinned. “I’m the biggest star’s wife, that’s what I am.”
Xiao Ai let out a squeal. “Ahhhh!”
Fu Ye had gotten quite fond of teasing him lately.
Since everyone already knew he was there, Fu Ye stepped forward generously and rewarded the storyteller. “You sang that ballad wonderfully. I hope you’ll come up with even more fine songs.”
The storyteller dropped to his knees with a thud. “Thank you, Your Highness! I will do my utmost!”
Eunuch Qin chuckled beside him.
By now, Fu Ye handled this kind of scene with ease—gracious, dignified, yet approachable. He asked the storyteller how the tune went and even learned a few lines himself. “When my brother comes home,” he said, “I’ll sing it for him.”
Word of this spread through Jiantai City in no time. Some praised the prince’s kindness and connection to the people. Others spoke admiringly of the deep bond between him and the emperor: “Imagine, His Highness can sing little ditties for His Majesty in private. How many brothers are that close these days?”
Before long, people were heaping praise on the emperor, too. “His Majesty isn’t just invincible on the battlefield—he’s loving toward his brother as well. Makes you think: maybe during that rebellion at Qingtai Palace, he really had no choice but to do what he did!”
“Back then, wasn’t everyone hoping he’d be a wise and virtuous ruler? Then he was deposed out of nowhere, poisoned, lost his mind—if that wasn’t some conspiracy, I’d eat my hat!”
“Well, no matter the past, everything’s good now.”
“That’s right, that’s right. His Majesty should be returning to the capital soon, don’t you think? Heaven above! When the emperor comes home, we’ll need a month just to prepare—offerings, prayers, a general amnesty, celebrations everywhere! They’ll probably hold multiple grand banquets!”
Indeed, once the army returned victorious, the whole city would surely pour into the streets to welcome them. There’d be work to do to maintain order, settle the troops, plan the banquets, decide who to invite, organize rewards for the deserving generals… Not to mention all the contingency plans that needed to be in place. The Ministry of Rites and other officials had already asked Fu Ye about it twice.
But Fu Ye hadn’t made any final decisions yet. He was still waiting for confirmation of Fu Huang’s return date.
By his estimates, it would still be at least a month.
Right now, what mattered most was news from Shuangluan City.
He and Eunuch Qin spent the whole day out and about, and by dusk, they returned home, content.
Eunuch Qin gazed at the setting sun, its golden light gleaming on his snow-white hair.
Fu Ye, weary, leaned against the soft goose-down cushions. “No need to worry, Eunuch Qin,” he said softly. “The most dangerous part is behind us.”
Eunuch Qin kept his eyes on the sun. “Yes. Perhaps at this very moment, His Majesty has already entered Qingluan Palace.”
Qingluan Palace—the mirror image of Qingtai Palace.
Fate had reversed. And as the sun sank and night fell, perhaps that famous twin-dragon battle from the old story would still play out—just in a different way.
They both gazed at the sunset together.
The blood-red sun filled the sky, an eerie and breathtaking sight. Many common folk came out of their homes to stare at the scarlet clouds and murmur to one another.
It was a sunset so beautiful it was almost terrifying, casting its glow over their carriage as it rolled down the imperial avenue. When they entered the palace, the vermilion walls shone even deeper and brighter in the crimson light. Palace maids and eunuchs came out of their chambers, gathering to look up at the strange sky.
No sooner had they returned to their quarters than a lady-in-waiting from the Cien Palace arrived to summon Fu Ye.
Empress Dowager Zhang and her attendants, including Sun Gongzheng, were in the courtyard watching the sunset. As twilight deepened, the red clouds gave way to purple, and the world seemed like a vast ink painting.
The imperial astrologers claimed this was a good omen. Still, the empress dowager wasn’t reassured. She led Fu Ye to the Buddha hall, with Eunuch Qin and Sun Gongzheng following.
They all prayed devoutly in the temple until night fully fell.
Fu Ye helped the empress dowager to her feet. As they walked out, she said, “By now… they must be storming the city walls, don’t you think?”
Fu Ye nodded. “I expect so.”
After all, Fu Huang had written to him—it was supposed to begin tonight.
The only question was… would they succeed?
He accompanied the Empress Dowager back to Cien Palace, then returned with Eunuch Qin and the others to Qingyuan Palace.
The palace was utterly silent. Fu Ye didn’t bathe, nor did he eat dinner—he simply lay down quietly by himself.
But as the night wore on, he couldn’t stay in bed. In the dead of night, he finally got up.
His hair loose around his shoulders, he stepped outside. Eunuch Qin and Shuang Fu hadn’t slept either.
“I can’t lie still. I want to go out for a walk,” Fu Ye said.
So they accompanied him.
The deep autumn night air was cold. Eunuch Qin draped Fu Huang’s great cloak over him, and together they left Qingyuan Palace.
The vast palace complex lay in deathly stillness. Only the occasional caw of a crow broke the silence. The wind whistled down the stone corridors, chilling his face. As they passed by Qingtai Palace, he thought of the novel—the story where, on a night like this, Fu Huang had died within those walls.
The novel had described it in vivid detail: how Fu Huang fought to his last breath, surrounded and attacked by Huang Tianyi and the great generals of the realm. First his arm was severed, then his head. By then he’d gone mad, never speaking a word, leaving behind not a single utterance.
That tale had haunted Fu Ye for so long. It had tormented him, left him weeping into his pillow on countless nights.
And so he climbed the steps, entering Qingtai Palace.
Built high above the others, he stood upon its terrace, gazing at the full moon overhead.
Far away, flames devoured the palace halls.
Zhang Gui panted for breath as he stared at the burning Qingluan Palace.
They’d just broken into Shuangluan City, only to see the great palace ablaze in the distance.
Riding at his emperor’s side, he had galloped into the palace grounds. Fires raged, stacked firewood burned beneath the grand halls, and panicked palace folk fled in all directions. Screams and cries filled the night.
Inside Qingluan Hall, Huang Tianyi stood clad in his yellow dragon robes, the blood staining them like hideous red dragon patterns. Around him, trembling servants huddled in terror. A pile of slaughtered attendants lay at his feet. Gripping his sword, he roared, “You follow me not to die, but to ascend! What is there to fear?”
But even as the words left his mouth, from the blaze sprang an arrow, adorned with sun, moon, and star patterns—it shattered his golden crown.
His hair tumbled down in disarray. He turned in panic and saw, through the curtain of hair, a man climbing the stairs, drawing his bow and loosing another arrow that struck him straight in the chest. The terrified servants scattered. Some took the chance to flee the burning palace. Enraged, he lifted his sword—but with a thunk, yet another arrow pierced his arm, sending the bloodied blade clattering to the ground.
Great Zhou’s soldiers surged forward.
In that moment, Fu Huang strode to the palace gates, firelight reflecting off his blood-slicked armor. “Someone sent me,” he said, voice low and steady, “to carry out Heaven’s justice and destroy you.”
He raised his bow one last time, his fingers raw and bloody on the string.
Faced with death, Huang Tianyi fell to his knees, scrabbling for his sword. “I am the Heaven’s chosen! How can I die by your hand?!”
He tried to lift the blade to his neck, but before he could, an arrow flashed through the air—crack—and sent him sprawling, lifeless on the stone floor. The arrow smashed through the flagstones.
The golden crow bow snapped in Fu Huang’s hands with a sharp twang.
Cheers erupted, shaking the burning palace to its foundations.
Bathed in firelight, Fu Huang lifted his gaze to the full moon above. His eyes were bloodshot, his body steeped in the stench of death and blood. At the peak of his glory, with thousands cheering his name, he looked upon that round moon, and his mind slowly cleared.
All under Heaven shared that same moon. It was full now—a signal sent across a thousand miles for people to reunite. It was time to come home.
Sitting beside Fu Ye, Eunuch Qin whispered, “The moon is full tonight.”
Fu Ye murmured, leaning against his shoulder, “It is. Time for people to come together again.”
But tonight, there would be no word from the front. The earliest news might come the day after tomorrow.
Even so, somewhere in the darkness, history was being rewritten. His beloved was fulfilling a destiny that would win him a place beside the great emperors of the ages.
Fu Ye didn’t know what Fu Huang looked like in that moment. He had dreamed of him countless times, but he was sure: the man Fu Huang had become now, was unlike any he’d seen in those dreams.
They stayed at Qingtai Palace until deep into the night before finally returning.
Great Zhou’s newly claimed lands brought endless matters of state—new officials to appoint, a new administrative system to establish, relief and aid for the local people, household registration to set up, and so much more. Fu Ye, still a novice in government affairs, was learning as he went, reviewing and approving documents as best he could. By afternoon, the strain caught up with him—Fu Ye finally collapsed from exhaustion.
He had truly pushed himself to the limit, worn thin by worry and sleepless nights.
In that fog of fever and fatigue, he had no idea how many days he drifted in and out of consciousness. Then, one early morning, still half-asleep, he suddenly heard a distant, rhythmic pounding.
Eunuch Qin burst into the room first. “Your Highness! Your Highness, listen!”
Fu Ye forced his aching body up, pushing aside the bed curtains. Eunuch Qin, hair loose and disheveled, had already flung open the window.
And now Fu Ye could hear it clearly—the deep thump, thump, thump of drums echoing from far beyond the palace. And then, the clang, clang, clang of great bells answered, three chimes in all.
Shaking, he struggled from his bed. Shuang Fu rushed to help him, and together they made it outside Spring Dawn Hall, standing right beneath those two characters carved in stone: Spring Dawn.
There the sounds grew louder—the steady pounding of drums, the solemn peal of bells—filling the air like a great dragon bringing joyous news, reverberating above the palace rooftops. And then the drums of the palace’s own bell tower joined in, their mighty, resonant voice shaking the very walls of the imperial city.
It made the heart tremble.
Xie Chancellor and the others came rushing in, Xie’s hat askew as he flung himself to the ground. “Your Highness! The drums and bells sound together—our great enterprise is complete!”
And then it was as if the entire palace collapsed to its knees, wave upon wave of officials and servants bowing low, their voices lost in the rising tide of bells and drums.
Fu Ye stood there, bathed in the light of the rising sun, dazed. Another round of bells and drums thundered across the city, and he thought—he must be imagining things—but it felt as if he could hear the cheers of the entire capital.
Then came the clop-clop of galloping hooves. The palace messenger leapt from his horse, ran into the courtyard, and slid to his knees before Fu Ye. “Your Highness! A personal letter from His Majesty!”
Fu Ye’s hands trembled as he reached for the letter. A sudden breeze whipped through the courtyard, sending the dark robe with its golden dragon embroidery billowing behind him like a banner.
He opened the letter, his vision already blurred with tears, and through them he saw Fu Huang’s familiar handwriting:
“Our great cause is accomplished. My dearest, beloved wife, you need no longer worry or fear for me. I will ride hard—before snow falls on Jiantai, I will hold you in my arms at Spring Dawn Hall. Though my body is not yet there, my soul has kissed you a thousand, ten thousand times already.”
His tears fell, drop after drop, onto the letter.
Under the vast, pale sky, with autumn leaves falling in mournful showers, a great cavalry thundered along the official road.
Zhang Gui and the others followed close behind Fu Huang, their horses galloping at full speed. “Hyah!”
“When I came, the thorny road was slow; when I go home, my heart flies like an arrow!” Fu Huang laughed aloud as he recited the verse.
Gripping the reins, the cloak with sun, moon, and stars embroidered on it snapped and billowed behind him in the wind. Sunlight fell across his determined, striking face—filled with pride and spirit—as he rode through the lands he had conquered, racing toward the one he loved.
Author’s note:
My true love is a hero beyond compare. He will come to me riding a tall, proud horse.
