In the blink of an eye, three days had already passed in the years within the mirror.
Mo Xi sat in a private room at a small inn on the outskirts of the city, silently watching the water clock by the window.
According to His Majesty’s orders, he should have already been on his way to the Northern Frontier today. But he had not left. He raised his hand and looked at his palm. His hand had taken on a translucent hue. In fact, it was not only his palm—even the colors of every blade of grass and every tree in this world had begun to slowly fade over the past few days.
This was a sign that the power of the Temporal Mirror was weakening.
Time flowed extremely quickly in the real world where Murong Chuyi and the others were. It was possible that while Murong Chuyi or Jiang Yexue was merely casting a spell or reciting a curse-breaking incantation outside, several days had already passed inside the mirror.
Judging by the situation, Mo Xi estimated that in another two or three days, he and Gu Mang would completely leave this world. Thus, he did not care whether His Majesty would discover that he had not gone north. He only wanted to uncover a few more secrets before then.
Another drop of water fell.
The mark on the water clock was getting closer and closer to noon. Mo Xi rose and walked over to the bronze mirror. He raised his hand and cast a simple disguise spell on himself, then pushed open the door and walked out.
“Come on, come on! Hurry to the Eastern Market to watch the execution!”
“Deputy Marshal Lu is going to be beheaded. Who would’ve thought? Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west of the river. Sigh…”
“He killed so many people because of a moment of recklessness. I say he deserves to die!”
The streets were packed with people, all surging toward the Eastern Execution Market. Some faces were filled with anticipation, some with satisfaction, some with regret, and others with fear. But regardless of what they were feeling, the Eastern Market was like a steaming bun of freshly made human blood, tempting one vulture after another to crane its neck and squeeze toward the execution platform.
Mo Xi followed the crowd forward without saying a word.
Before long, he arrived at the Eastern Vegetable Market. It was already packed with executioners and spectators. They were like the thin, resilient skin of a dumpling, tightly encircling the platform layer upon layer.
Lu Zhanxing wore a spotless white prison uniform and was barefoot, sitting cross-legged atop the execution platform. His expression was tranquil, without the slightest trace of panic one would expect from a condemned man. The execution officer brought him wine and meat. Lu Zhanxing grinned and laughed as he thanked him, then tore a chicken leg from the plate and began ripping into it with his canine teeth, chewing and swallowing in huge bites.
He polished off the meat in no time, then began drinking. He downed the farewell wine with the vigor of someone swallowing mountains and rivers.
Finally, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
“Officer, this little wine pot of yours is way too fancy. It’s all dainty and girlish. Can’t you just bring me a whole jar?”
The execution officer stared at him strangely.
“You’re about to die, and you’re still eating so happily?”
“Of course.” Lu Zhanxing bared his teeth in a grin like a wolfhound that had attained enlightenment. “It’s my last meal in life. Do you expect me to cry while I eat it?”
The execution officer glared at him, seemingly wondering just how shameless a person had to be to still laugh and joke after causing such a huge disaster.
“We don’t have a whole jar of wine for you.” At last, the execution officer said stiffly, “This is the prescribed last meal. This is all you get. No refills.”
Lu Zhanxing sighed.
“What a pity. I could’ve gone on my way drunk.”
The execution officer sneered.
“So you’re not carefree after all. You just want alcohol to give you courage so you won’t be afraid of the pain when your head is chopped off.”
“Not at all.” Lu Zhanxing laughed, clapping his hands. “Getting your head chopped off is nothing more than a scar as big as a bowl. I, your military officer, simply want to go to the Yellow Springs drunk. With the strength of the wine, I’ll be able to admire the beautiful scenery along both banks of the River of Forgetfulness. Maybe I’ll even be able to write one or two poems famous enough to shake the Netherworld.”
“……”
The execution officer was rendered utterly speechless by him. Just then, a clear voice suddenly came from below the noisy platform.
“What poem are you going to write this time? ‘Two orioles sing among the emerald willows, one uglier than the other’? Or ‘Heaven has given me talent, so I must have a use for it; singing and drinking every night is no dream’?”
Everyone turned their heads.
Gu Mang appeared beyond the crowd. He was dressed in a perfectly pressed Chonghua military dress uniform. He had removed his military insignia and tassels, but it still accentuated his long legs and slender waist, while his features remained dignified and solemn. Two of his long, slender fingers hooked around a hemp rope, from which hung a sealed wine jar covered in sealing clay. Facing the blazing midday sun, he walked toward the execution platform from afar.
“Ah, it’s Marshal Gu…”
“Bah, bah, bah. I misspoke. Not Marshal Gu. It’s Gu Mang. Gu Mang.”
The spectators slowly parted to make way. Pair after pair of eyes stared curiously at the two of them.
Everyone knew that Lu Zhanxing and Gu Mang had a friendship forged through life and death. Everyone also knew that because of Lu Zhanxing’s mistake, Gu Mang had fallen from his position above ten thousand people to the bottom of the valley, becoming a useless man who spent his days idling around brothels.
Now that they had finally met, how would they react to each other?
Would Lu Zhanxing show shame toward Gu Mang?
Would Gu Mang angrily curse his former closest friend?
There was nothing more entertaining than a wealthy man’s wife being jealous and fighting over favors, or brothers turning against each other. The first two were impossible to see here, but everyone could certainly look forward to the brothers turning against each other. Thus, the execution platform, which had been noisy moments ago, gradually fell silent.
It was so quiet that even Mo Xi, concealed within the crowd, could hear his own pounding heartbeat.
His eyes followed Gu Mang’s figure—that tall, handsome figure dressed in Chonghua’s old military uniform.
Gu Mang did not look dejected today. He looked like a graceful green bamboo in a gentle breeze, as though the debauched life of the past six months had not eroded even the slightest bit of his bearing.
Amid this silence, Gu Mang walked alone onto the execution platform.
He had once been surrounded wherever he went, with everyone answering his call and soldiers preceding and following him. But now, of the hundred thousand comrades-in-arms, only he remained. The rest had either died or been detained. He had no way to bring more people with him. There was only one man, one jar of wine, and one military uniform stripped of its insignia.
The glory they had once possessed had been like a dream of golden millet. Now, only this pitiful remnant remained.
Lu Zhanxing craned his neck and looked up at him. After a moment, he bared his teeth in a grin.
“Mang’er, you still remember those poems I wrote?”
Gu Mang lowered his eyelashes, their dense feathers casting a shadow over his eyelids. He sat down with the wine jar in his arms.
“Your dog-tail continuation was so terrible that even if I wanted to forget it, I couldn’t.”
Lu Zhanxing chuckled. He laughed while picking at his feet, then said, “I knew you’d still come to see me off today.”
Gu Mang snorted. He knocked open the sealing clay on the wine jar, took a drink himself, then pushed it toward Lu Zhanxing.
“Drink.”
“Oh, fifteen-year-old Pear Blossom White from Honghu Pavilion.”
“You know your stuff.”
Seeing that the two had neither gotten into the expected fight nor started beating each other, the spectators below were dumbfounded. Even the execution officer standing nearby stared in disbelief.
Lu Zhanxing was already a condemned prisoner, but Gu Mang had not yet committed treason. Although he had lost his military rank, his former prestige remained. Thus, the execution officer neither wanted nor dared to openly make things difficult for Gu Mang.
He hesitated.
“Gu… ahem, you see, the regulations for the condemned man’s last meal…”
“At least we’re brothers who shared life and death.” Gu Mang looked up. “Please, Officer, make an exception.”
No matter what, Gu Mang had been the fearsome beast atop Chonghua’s altar, the undefeated God of War. And no matter what, when Gu Mang had been at the height of his glory, he had never committed the offense of acting arrogantly or bullying others. He had no personal grudges with the execution officer.
The officer gradually lost his resolve beneath those black-jade eyes.
Finally, he sighed and stepped aside.
As the sun climbed higher and higher, the sundial cast an increasingly deep shadow, darker than ink.
Lu Zhanxing drank his wine and chatted with Gu Mang with a smile. Perhaps because a person’s death was approaching, there was no use speaking of hatred anymore. Neither of them mentioned the defeat at Fengming Mountain.
The time of execution drew closer and closer. Even beneath the blazing, scorching sun, an air associated with death began to permeate the surroundings. The spectators looked at the sundial, swallowing nervously as tension slowly gripped them.
The least nervous of all were, ironically, the man about to die and the friend who had come to see him off.
At last, the wine was completely gone.
Gu Mang asked, “Do you have any last wishes?”
Lu Zhanxing smiled.
“Too many.”
“Which one can I help you with?”
Lu Zhanxing said, “Drink more Pear Blossom White for me.”
“All right.”
“Look at more beautiful women and beautiful scenery for me.”
“Sure.”
Lu Zhanxing thought for a moment. Finally, he raised his hand and stroked Gu Mang’s military uniform.
“…Mang’er, don’t wear this uniform anymore after today.”
The charcoal in the brazier at the execution ground cracked with a sharp pop.
Gu Mang lowered his eyes. His expression seemed somewhat gloomy, yet also seemed to carry a deeper meaning. Almost no one present could understand why he had made such an expression.
Except Mo Xi.
Mo Xi knew clearly that Gu Mang had already made up his mind to commit treason. Lu Zhanxing’s final wish had originally been a hope that Gu Mang could lay down his arms and return to a life of retirement, never again becoming entangled in bloodshed and turmoil.
But Lu Zhanxing did not know that Gu Mang indeed would never wear Chonghua’s military uniform again.
Instead, Gu Mang would put on the black battle armor of Liao and embark upon a blood-soaked road of no return.
Gu Mang did not answer immediately. He lowered his head, his eyelashes moving faintly like the soft stamens of a flower.
At last, he smiled faintly.
“All right. I won’t wear it ever again.”
Lu Zhanxing’s eyes brightened, and then his face broke into a smile.
“You mean that?”
“When have I ever lied to you?”
Lu Zhanxing burst out laughing.
“You’ve loved coaxing people since you were little. You coaxed me all the way into adulthood.”
As he laughed, the smile lines at the corners of his eyes, spreading like spring leaves, gradually faded.
Gu Mang asked, “Anything else you want to say?”
“……”
There was a trace of warmth in Lu Zhanxing’s eyes. It was a gentleness Mo Xi had never seen on that fierce, wolf-like face.
Lu Zhanxing said, “Mang’er, start a family soon.”
Gu Mang: “……”
“You always make such a racket in your daily life, but after all these years as brothers, I know you’ve always wanted a true home of your own.” Lu Zhanxing spoke meaningfully. “You’re not getting any younger. Once you’ve had enough fun, settle down early… Then I can also…”
Before he could finish, Gu Mang interrupted him.
“How old is Uncle Lu this year?”
Lu Zhanxing’s eyes widened. He curled his lips.
“I’m concerned about you. How can you be so ungrateful?”
Just as he was about to say more, a sharp whistle suddenly rang out. A cultivator in the corner tower of the high platform raised his head and blew into a yak-horn trumpet, its mournful sound shaking the heavens.
The herald raised his voice and shouted:
“The appointed hour is near!”
The appointed—hour—is near—
The blinding sun had risen to the center of the sky, its pale light scorching the bewildered masses, illuminating those who were about to depart and those who were about to part, illuminating the densely packed spectators.
This was the end of these two childhood brothers.
Gu Mang looked calmly at Lu Zhanxing, so calmly that it was as though the two were merely about to split up again because of strategic circumstances, taking different routes to the battlefield, certain that they would meet again eventually.
“I’m going.” Gu Mang said.
Lu Zhanxing smiled.
“Think about what I said.”
Gu Mang gazed deeply at him. Finally, he said,
“…All right. I will.”
With that, his long robe trailing across the ground, he descended the narrow steps of the execution platform.
The execution officer stepped forward, raised the bronze mallet wrapped in red cloth, and struck it as the bell rang. The clash of metal produced a clear, distant sound.
The execution officer drew a deep breath and called out:
“The appointed hour has arrived—prepare!”
There was no Imperial Guard cavalryman in some legendary tale, holding up an arrow token and shouting, “Stay the blade!” as he galloped over.
Nor did Lu Zhanxing suddenly rise up in resistance, and no one came to rescue the prisoner.
There were not that many instances in this world of being driven into a desperate situation only to survive. Only a very small number of people received the favor of Heaven’s mandate.
Lu Zhanxing and Gu Mang, one atop the platform and one below it, looked at each other.
Both of them could not help recalling something Lu Zhanxing had said many years ago, when he first joined the military.
“I don’t want to die at all. I just want to be a thousand-year-old tortoise, a ten-thousand-year-old turtle. Marry two or three wives, have a bunch of children. Now that’s what I call a carefree and happy life.”
Gu Mang had laughed.
“Now you’ve gone to war. With your head tied to your belt, what can you possibly do to become your thousand-year-old tortoise or ten-thousand-year-old turtle?”
Lu Zhanxing had been utterly unabashed. Stroking his chin, he had said half-jokingly and half-seriously, “True enough. Then maybe I should think about how to die a death worthy of dying.”
“What counts as dying a worthy death?”
“The best would be for me to fall victim to some Liao illusion technique. The illusion would be full of peerless beauties chasing after me and wanting to, ahem, have their way with me. I’d be unable to refuse their kindness, and in the end I’d die from exhaustion.” Lu Zhanxing grinned lecherously, swinging his legs. “Ah, what a wonderful ending.”
The two of them truly had no fear or restraint. Matters of life and death were treated like jokes whenever they spoke of them.
“Or I could be killed by an absolutely gorgeous female demon from Liao. Preferably she’d fall for me, but I’d refuse to yield even unto death. She’d ravish me first and kill me afterward. Wow, how exciting—”
Gu Mang laughed and cursed, “Can’t you come up with something normal?”
“What’s the fun in something normal?” Lu Zhanxing licked his lips with a grin. “At most, I’d die wrapped in my battle robes, with a bunch of drinking buddies surrounding me, weeping mournfully with tears streaming down their faces. Just imagining it is terrifying.”
But who could have known that the worst ending Lu Zhanxing had been able to imagine for himself back then would actually have been far, far better than his true future?
As it turned out, as a soldier, his final end was not to be wrapped in his battle robes.
Instead, he would die on Chonghua’s execution platform, burdened with guilt and disgrace, dying a useless death.
No one cried.
No one mourned him with sorrow and tears.
The so-called drinking buddies ultimately numbered only one.
Gu Mang.
The executioner carrying a broad-bladed saber stepped forward. The snow-bright blade rose high into the air.
The wind lifted Lu Zhanxing’s disheveled hair. He looked down at Gu Mang below the platform, and the corners of his lips curved into a relieved smile.
“Execute!”
As that single word fell, they were parted forever—one in the realm of the living, one in the realm of the dead, strangers from this day onward.