The crimson carpet, woven with gold and silver thunder patterns and swastikas, stretched directly from the great hall outward. This opulent path, its end still unseen, was swallowed by the cold white daylight beyond the doors.
Fang Zhu stood behind the crowd, watching her step by step across the red carpet. Her black ceremonial robe, layered with subtle patterns and intricate gold-red embroidery, was both resplendent and austere, accentuating the silver-red touch of rouge on her lips. Her long, dark lashes hung heavily like a pair of locks, sealing away eyes that once sparkled with vivacity. The spirited young woman who once drank and debated swords in men’s attire seemed to have been expelled from this body, replaced by this ethereal, serene beauty—a stranger to him, as if a wandering soul had borrowed a lifeless form.
As she stepped out of the Zichen Hall, the sharp sunlight momentarily blinded her, yet she continued forward, unwavering. There had been no wind since morning, and fine snowflakes, like grains of rice, fell steadily and unhurriedly from the sky. Below, a sea of dark-clad figures knelt silently.
To escort the Dragon-Tail God back to its dwelling, Prince Chang and envoys from three kingdoms set out from Tianqi on the first day of the second month. Accompanying them were Lady Huzhu, Emperor Xu’s favored consort, leading sixty court ladies, with an escort of eight thousand imperial guards. Among them was a grand, gilded palanquin with upturned eaves, serving as the conveyance for both the Dragon-Tail God and Lady Huzhu.
As she stepped into the palanquin, she turned her head slightly, casting a fleeting, butterfly-like glance toward the vermilion steps. He was still there—barely visible beyond the dense crowd, exactly where he always stood.
Prince Chang’s rebellion seemed imminent, poised to erupt any day—if not in the capital, then along the coast. Now, venturing to the ends of the earth, the fragile bond between him and her might well have reached its end on this very day.
The distance between them was too vast; even if their gazes had met, neither would have known. A vast curtain of snow slowly and inexorably separated them.
The procession wound its way out of the city through the Jihan Gate, stretching for miles in a magnificent display. Yet, what the citizens of the capital remembered most vividly from that early spring of the fifteenth year of Tianxiang was not this lavish parade, but the tidal wave of rebellion that shook Tianqi days later. As for the new emperor’s ascension to the throne, that would not come until the end of autumn, as winter approached.
During the seven days away from the capital, Langhuan lay listless on Haishi’s lap, occasionally waking to sip a little seawater. There was little anyone could do as they watched Langhuan’s cool, moist skin gradually lose its luster, her ankle-length hair crystallizing with salt. Her frail body, light as a butterfly, seemed ready to drift away with the wind, yet she refused to let anyone but Haishi and Yu Ran near. They took turns tirelessly applying seawater-soaked cloths to her. That night, at the encampment, Haishi finally succumbed to exhaustion, falling into a deep sleep before Yu Ran returned.
In the night, Haishi was gently shaken awake. She sat up abruptly, scanning her surroundings, and only relaxed when she saw Langhuan sleeping peacefully beside her.
“What is it?” Haishi turned to ask Yu Ran, who had woken her, and noticed the faint tears in Yu Ran’s eyes, her heart tightening with dread.
Yu Ran took a step back, knelt formally by the bed, and presented a stack of clothing with both hands. “My lady, you must leave,” she said. Haishi sifted through the garments—all men’s attire—and her expression sharpened. “Leave? Where would you have me go?”
“My lady, this noon, Deputy General Fu Yi of the Jingji Battalion confined General He Yao and is now rallying troops. By dawn tomorrow, he will lead twenty thousand soldiers to assault the imperial city and install Prince Chang as emperor.”
“What?” Haishi gasped aloud. Startled, Langhuan drowsily opened her eyes.Yu Ran handed the clothing to Haishi and bowed her head, saying, "Things have happened suddenly. General Zhang Chengqian is currently trying to rescue General He Yao of the Jinji Camp and obtain the military tally. Tomorrow, we will arrive at the coast. Only you, madam, Prince Chang, the envoys from the three kingdoms, and their personal attendants will board the treasure ship to send off the gods. They will surely take this opportunity to harm you. If you don’t leave now, madam, there will be no other chance." Haishi gazed intently at Yu Ran for a moment before breaking into a smile. "Aunt Yu, so you are also one of my adoptive father’s people?" Yu Ran smiled kindly at this, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "This humble servant is merely an old palace maid who watched the emperor and the young master grow up." Haishi shook her head with a light laugh. That man—even when trapped in dire straits, he still thought of setting her free. But by now, it was far too late. He had carved wounds into her with his own hands, only to futilely offer pearls and jewels to soothe them. What she needed was the simplest, most ordinary medicine for her wounds, yet he could never give it to her.
Haishi covered her face with her sleeve and sat quietly for a while. When she rose again, it seemed she had made up her mind. She helped Yu Ran to her feet and asked, "Aunt Yu, can you send a message swiftly back to the capital?" Yu Ran’s eyes lit up as she replied, "Yes. If the message is sent now, it will reach the capital by tomorrow morning." "Good. Have them spread a rumor among the people—" Haishi blinked, "—that Prince Chang and his party encountered a typhoon at sea, their ship destroyed and all lives lost. This way, if Emperor Xu is killed, the imperial bloodline will be severed. The rebels, in their struggle for power, will inevitably turn on each other first. Go quickly." Yu Ran nodded deeply and immediately left to deliver the message. A short while later, she returned, her face bright with relief. "The message has been sent." Haishi also breathed a slight sigh of relief. "At this point, this is the only way. Whether we make it in time will depend on fate." Yu Ran picked up the men’s clothing and said, "Madam, allow me to help you change." But Haishi gently waved her hand. "No rush. There are soldiers guarding the encampment. We’ll wait until the third watch, when they change shifts, to leave." "Understood. Please rest, madam. I will wake you at the third watch." With that, Yu Ran prepared to withdraw.
"Aunt Yu," Haishi called out.
"Yes." Haishi tidied Lang?‘s hair and applied a cloth soaked in seawater to her forehead. "What was my adoptive father like when he was young?" Yu Ran was taken aback for a moment, then her face softened into a warm smile.
"The young master and the emperor were the cleverest and most adorable children in the palace back then. The young master was sent to the Eastern Palace to be raised alongside the crown prince when he was only five. He often rode his little pony on outings with the princes. Among them, the emperor was the most skilled rider, so naturally, the young master and the emperor grew especially close. The emperor was mature beyond his years; though he surpassed the crown prince in every way, his mother’s humble origins held him back at every turn. With few peers in the palace, he cherished the young master dearly. The crown prince, on the other hand, was domineering toward the servants but timid around horses. He disliked seeing others ride or shoot arrows and often threw tantrums to prevent the young master and the emperor from going out together." As she spoke, Yu Ran sighed softly with a smile, as if lost in distant memories."Thus, during every festival when all the princes gathered before the emperor, it was the happiest time for His Majesty. While the other princes vied for the favor of the late emperor and the empress dowager, only His Majesty would pull the young marquis aside to play. On the Lantern Festival night when His Majesty was fifteen, he and the young marquis slipped away from the palace attendants, disguised as noble sons out for an excursion, intending to admire the lanterns among the common folk. But before they even left the palace, they were spotted by the crown prince, who was persuaded to change his clothes as well. The three of them each mounted a horse and set off together. Unexpectedly, on Yong'an Avenue, the crown prince’s horse was startled by firecrackers. Not only did it kick and injure commoners, but the crown prince himself was thrown from the saddle, with one foot caught in the stirrup, unable to free himself, and was dragged for several yards. At that time, His Majesty was already remarkably agile. He spurred his horse after the crown prince’s mount, leaped lightly onto it, and tried to rein in the horse while pulling the crown prince back into the saddle. But the frightened horse reared up, threatening to throw him off. Just then, the young marquis, chasing close behind, swiftly fired five arrows in succession, all of which struck the horse’s hind legs at the knees. The horse finally knelt, and His Majesty drew his dagger and killed it. Five thousand imperial guards, hearing the news, rushed into the lantern market and escorted them back to the palace. His Majesty and the young marquis were merely pale and speechless, recovering by the next day, but the crown prince needed a full month to recuperate. That was the biggest commotion in the capital that year. At the time, the young marquis was only eleven. The late emperor had intended to punish them severely but, moved by their deep bond, ultimately decreed that each child receive three strokes of the cane. After that, the two grew even closer, like two poplar trees standing side by side, riding and practicing martial arts together, studying military texts, and using chess pieces to simulate battle formations on the board. If not for that war, they would not have..." Yu Ran suddenly fell silent, turning her face away quietly.
"Lady Yu." Haishi wiped the moisture from the corner of her eye like a child and smiled faintly. "Thank you." "Madam, do you know?" Yu Ran turned back, her fingertips lifting the gold thumb ring inlaid with aqua-green glass hanging from Haishi’s neck. "This was given to the young marquis by the old Duke of Qinghai. His Majesty asked for it several times back then, but the young marquis never agreed to give it to him." Haishi was silent for a moment before looking up at Yu Ran with sorrow. "I’m sorry, Lady Yu, I cannot leave. If there is still something I can do for him, I cannot go." Before Yu Ran could withdraw her hand from the thumb ring, a stinging slap landed on her cheek, leaving her ears ringing.
"How dare you, old servant!" Haishi sprang to her feet, pointing sharply at Yu Ran’s forehead and rebuking her harshly. "Such audacity! Do not think that just because you have served His Majesty for so many years, you can disrespect your mistress!" She raised her voice and shouted, "Guards! Guards! Come and drag this wretched old woman out!" Yu Ran stared in stunned silence, clutching her cheek.
The guards, hearing the commotion from afar, hurried over just as Lady Pearl Seal was in a rage, with the merman clinging tightly to her arm, shaking his head and weeping incessantly.“We set sail tomorrow to send off the gods. We must not recklessly break the precept against killing—what a lucky break for you!” The young imperial consort, in a fit of rage, smashed the teacup on the table and spat out bitterly, “Drag her out and keep a close watch on her. Do not let her board the ship tomorrow. Once I return from sending off the gods, I will deal with this old hide slowly!” Yu Ran stared blankly at that resolute, beautiful, childlike face, then abruptly shut her eyes, tears streaming down her aged cheeks. She allowed the guards to escort her out without resistance. The last guard respectfully closed the door for Haishi.
Lang? remained kneeling by the bed, clutching Haishi’s arm, shaking her pleadingly. But Haishi kept her eyes closed and did not respond for a long time.
The first hints of dawn were beginning to show on the horizon. Yet, would that person in the capital still have the chance to see tomorrow’s sunrise? At the highest point of the Forbidden City.
On the double-eaved hip-and-gable roof of the Zichen Hall, the wind howled fiercely. The two figures standing side by side had their robes fluttering as if ready to take flight. The streets stretched out like a chessboard below, the houses as small as beans, the vast imperial capital visible in its entirety until the view was blocked by the dark ridges of the Anlan Mountains.
“Jianming, release the life-extending pact. At this point, if you still refuse, you’ll only grant me half a day more of life at the cost of your own. It’s meaningless.” Emperor Di Xu looked down upon the scene outside the Kaiping Gate, where twenty thousand rebel troops swarmed like ants, pushing over a dozen iron-cornered siege chariots as they clamored and charged toward the gate.
Fang Zhu remained silent for a moment before suddenly speaking: “Brother Xu, I understand now. What you said back then.” “What?” Di Xu did not turn his head, his gaze still fixed ahead.
“That day, we sat right here, hiding behind the ridge beasts and chiwen, secretly watching Ji Chang depart for Zhuni. You said, ‘If only we hadn’t been born here.’” Fang Zhu’s eyes held a warm smile.
“If only we hadn’t been born here…” Di Xu lifted his head proudly to the sky, where vultures, sensing the scent of blood, were already circling in the distance, waiting for their chance. He gave a faint smile and said nothing more.
Fang Zhu laughed. “Brother Xu, there’s still time for one last game of chess.” Di Xu glanced around at the imperial capital beneath his feet and, after a moment, said, “Let’s go.” Inside the Golden City Palace, the palace attendants had all fled. Chests and cabinets lay overturned, with bolts of gold and emerald silk piled everywhere. Over a hundred white oxhide lamps, left unextinguished, glowed dimly in the daylight.
Black and white chess pieces lay scattered across the jadeite board, their influence waxing and waning, encroaching and clashing, forever confined within the gridlines—like mayflies living and dying under the giant hand of fate. Amid the half-finished game, decades of life loomed faintly yet sharply.
“If only you hadn’t saved me in the battle beneath Tongping City that year. After your father passed, there was no one else in the world who knew the secret of the Fang bloodline. You wouldn’t have had to become anyone’s sacrificial shield. I could have achieved the death I sought, and even Ji Chang would have gotten the throne he desired. Everyone would have gotten what they wanted. But you refused.” Di Xu placed a piece without hesitation.
“We’ve known each other for thirty years, exchanging our lives for one another countless times. What does it matter who is emperor?” Fang Zhu pondered for a moment, about to place a white piece.
“Even if I took the woman you cherished?” Di Xu said lightly.
Fang Zhu’s hand hesitated slightly but still made a precise move. “That child was never meant to be mine.” Di Xu lifted his gaze to the man across the board, his expression teasing like a youth’s, yet his eyes held a hidden pain. “Do you think I no longer recognize that thumb ring?” The only response was a long silence.Emperor Xiu rested his cheek on his hand, idly toying with a chess piece between his fingers, his demeanor relaxed and elegant. Lost in thought, he suddenly glanced toward the door and remarked, "Who said there was still time for another game? Someone is already at our doorstep." With that, he swept his hand across the board, scattering the pieces into disarray.
Fang Zhu chuckled softly. "Same old trick—just when you’re about to lose, you always find an excuse to ruin the game." As he collected the white pieces one by one into a jade vessel, he asked casually, "Xiao Zi, is that you?" The black-clad soldier standing outside the door replied, "It’s me, Commander."
"Is he one of yours?" Emperor Xiu inquired, gathering the black pieces.
Fang Zhu placed the gold-inlaid jade lid on the vessel. "Not exactly."
"One of Ji Chang’s men?" Emperor Xiu finished tidying the pieces and set the two vessels neatly atop the board.
Xiao Zi stepped inside, his expression stern. "Not exactly, either. I came alone." Emperor Xiu laughed lightly. "This one is interesting."
"Tyrant!" Xiao Zi’s sword hissed from its scabbard, pointing directly at Emperor Xiu. "At first, I refused to believe you could sink to such depths of folly. I deceived myself, risking my life to infiltrate the Imperial Guard for ten years, secretly thwarting Prince Chang’s rebellion. But ten years is far too long—long enough to force me to see you clearly. Killing you today is no injustice; it is an act of divine retribution."
Emperor Xiu rose abruptly, his wide sleeves billowing. "The heavens toy with me, and I, in turn, toy with the heavens. If the heavens were just, why would they not strike me down with lightning instead of relying on mortal hands? For over a decade, I have ruled with violence—why has retribution only come now?" He turned his gaze to Xiao Zi, his expression growing increasingly arrogant and untamed. "It is I who have brought about my own downfall. What does heaven have to do with it?"
The thunderous beat of war drums, like the pounding of ten thousand horses, shook the ground. The nine outer halls—Qianxuan, Kunrong, Jiujing, Dinghe, Wencheng, Wude, Xiangyun, Junlei, and Zichen—had all fallen. The Ningtai Gate was breached, and rebel forces surged into the inner palace. The drumming, like the footsteps of a colossal beast, mingled with the roar of countless voices, causing the deep purple wine in the luminous cup beside Emperor Xiu’s hand to ripple violently.
From the direction of Renzhe Palace, crimson banners fluttered in the wind as a tide of rebels, dark and ominous like storm-laden clouds, swept toward the Golden City Palace.
How reminiscent of the past—south of the Lilan River, beneath the mournful cries of migrating geese. Back then, they were all young, galloping freely across the land. The black imperial banner, emblazoned with golden coiling dragons, and the blood-red standard of the Liushang Army shimmered together in the pouring rain.
Emperor Xiu turned back to Xiao Zi with a scornful smile. "Only one name will be remembered in history, and the opportunity is fleeting. If you intend to act, do it now." Before Xiao Zi could react, another voice sounded from behind.
"Chen Xiao Zi, betraying your master at this late stage is far too delayed." A man standing in the doorway drew his long blade, pointing it vaguely in Xiao Zi’s direction. Silhouetted against the light, his face was shrouded in shadow, indistinct and obscure.Xiaozi laughed, revealing a row of white teeth. "And how has your master treated you? He didn't trust you, so he sent me to infiltrate the Black-Clad Imperial Guard and assassinate you when the time came. Did you even know someone like me existed? I was the one who leaked the information from the estate, yet he never suspected me. Instead, he executed over twenty servants in a fit of rage. You obey your master, but my master is only myself." Fuyi's dark face remained impassive, but the golden blade in his hand hummed faintly, stirred by his killing intent.
Suddenly, the silent wall of soldiers behind Fuyi was broken by a panicked shout. The round-faced, stout supervisor of the Weaving Bureau, Shi Lin, squeezed through, standing on tiptoe to whisper into Fuyi's ear. For the first time, Fuyi's typically iron-like expression showed clear shock. With a swift motion, he reversed his golden blade and pressed it against Shi Lin's neck, mere inches away. "Swear to me that what you say is true?!"
Shi Lin trembled, his plump, ruddy lips and flabby body quivering like a woman's. "H-how could I know if it's true or not... But in just one morning, the entire capital is already buzzing with the news!"
"Go and issue the order: anyone spreading rumors, regardless of military merit, rank, or background, will be treated as disrupting morale on the battlefield and executed on sight!" Fuyi withdrew his blade, grabbed Shi Lin, and shoved him back into the crowd. The rotund figure sank like a stone thrown into the sea, the ripples spreading wider and wider.
A sharp gust of sword wind suddenly brushed past Fuyi's ear. Startled, he turned to see Xiaozi, taking advantage of the distraction, thrust his sword like lightning toward Emperor Xu's heart. Emperor Xu neither dodged nor flinched, standing tall with an arrogant smile. The blade plunged deep into his chest, piercing straight through his back.
The crowd erupted into chaos. Xiaozi's eyes widened in disbelief, as if witnessing the most unimaginable nightmare of his life.
By the time he thought to withdraw his sword, Emperor Xu had already seized his wrist. Xiaozi heard the distinct sound of his ulna and radius bones cracking, one after another.
Emperor Xu's expression remained unchanged, but the person beside him suddenly hunched over.
In the void, something cold and sharp burst through his chest. At first, he felt no pain. Leaning against the jade chessboard, he looked down and saw blood slowly seeping from his chest. So, it has finally come to this. I am far too weary. He let out a comfortable sigh and finally looked up at Emperor Xu with a smile, the old scar at the corner of his lips curling gently. Across the hazy, flowing years, it was the same carefree, fearless smile he had worn at thirteen, when he and Zhongxu raised their banners and fought their way out of the capital. The slender, handsome figure of the young man in the portrait of the Six-Winged Generals was still recognizable even now.
The wall of soldiers at the palace door instantly retreated several feet. These were all veterans from the Yellow Springs Pass who had followed Fuyi into the Capital Garrison, each of whom had once reverently offered incense before the portrait of the Six-Winged Generals in the Temple of the War God.
"Could it be...?" "No mistake, it's Prince Jingyi!" "The eunuch...?" "No, Lord Qinghai..." "But Lord Qinghai has been dead for years, hasn't he?" The chaotic whispers wound around his fading consciousness like ropes. "Gentle virtue brings peace—that is Jing; firm resolve conquers—that is Yi." He had long been a dead man, a lacquered spirit tablet occupying a sunless corner of the temple, his posthumous title—Prince Jingyi—inscribed in gold."Jianming." A clear, lucid voice pierced through the darkness, briefly pulling him back to awareness. He wanted to say something, but blood choked his windpipe, each breath escaping as a broken, failing gasp, carrying the metallic tang of iron.
Emperor Xu supported him by the shoulder and said with a faint smile, "You’ve always been particular about cleanliness, so I won’t pull the sword out—no need to drench you in blood from head to toe." Fang Jianming also smiled slightly, saying nothing, only giving a gentle nod.
Emperor Xu turned his head, scanning the trembling soldiers closing in. With three fingers, he snapped the hilt of the sword embedded in his chest, allowing the blade within to no longer hinder his movements. He then drew his own sword with a sharp ring, arrogantly pointing it at the crowd before him.
At that moment, a roar like a tidal wave surged from all directions. That one rumor, even under the order to kill without exception, could not be suppressed. Countless hushed whispers converged into one immense, panicked voice, blotting out the sky as it swept over them.
—"The ship has capsized! Prince Chang is dead!" A sudden light ignited in Emperor Xu’s eyes, and he murmured to himself, "Ah, I find myself growing fonder of this dramatic finale. 'Slaying over a hundred before falling from exhaustion'—that’s how the history books should record me." With a fierce shout, his sword erupted with lightning-sharp killing intent, sweeping through the army like a scythe. A mist of blood blurred his vision.
Fang Zhu seemed to see dark, cold vines rapidly sprouting and climbing up from the underworld toward him. Memories transformed into a vast, boundless sea of clouds, surging with overwhelming force.
A sharp pain pierced through his chest, like an arrow shot into the depths of time, carrying him upstream against the current. On thousands of bloodied, shattered faces, wounds healed, wrinkles smoothed, and the frost-white hair at their temples gradually melted away—time flowed backward.
The lamp flame flickered.
The nineteen-year-old youth cupped his hands around the lamp, and the leaping flame slowly stilled. He watched the vibrant red seeping through his fingers—the lamplight illuminating the fresh blood coursing through his body.
He turned to look at the young man lying on the sickbed. Once the proud and unruly king who had commanded tens of thousands of troops in the restoration, he now resembled a breathless stone statue—except for the arrow wound on his chest, which still stubbornly oozed blood.
The youth took out a delicate, thin blade and unhurriedly held its edge over the flame to sterilize it. Beside him, on a red clay stove, medicine had finished brewing, bubbling with fish-eye-sized bubbles over a low flame. Setting the blade aside, the youth stood and poured the decoction into a bowl. He swirled it gently, his gaze fixed intently on the murky, black liquid as it steamed and swirled with white vapor. His focused expression was like a newly sharpened sword, its cold gleam piercingly clear.
After setting the bowl down, the youth picked up the thin blade again. With a slight pressure against his wrist, he made a cut. Raising his arm, he watched, mesmerized, as the crimson elixir dripped—under the dim lamplight, his blood looked like pearls and jade.
The rich red slowly merged into the thick, murky black until it vanished without a trace. Suddenly, the dense liquid in the bowl began to shimmer with an amber-like radiance, growing brighter and more dazzling until it was almost blinding.
From the day he completed the secret art, his life and Zhong Xu’s had become inextricably intertwined, bound together by flesh and blood, never to be separated again.
Like two specks of dust-like seeds, they stubbornly sprouted together, unfurling their cotyledons, growing into towering giants through every brush with death, every life-or-death struggle. And then, watching helplessly as the rot began from the roots. Perhaps it was a mistake, but he refused to turn back. From beginning to end, it was not Zhong Xu who was unwilling to let go—it was himself. He was the one who had bound the two of them together with the chains of fate, walking until the end of life, until there was no path forward. This long and arduous journey had finally reached its end, with nothing left to hold them together.
The young tribesman who galloped freely across the grasslands was an eagle released from his embrace, destined to become the ruler of Hanzhou. And Haishi—the thought tore another sharp pain through his chest. That spirited young woman would return to the dusty mortal world, marry, have children, and in the quiet moments of an ordinary life, perhaps occasionally remember him—or perhaps forget him entirely. For the rest of her life, she would never know how deeply he cherished her. Like an archer cherishing his own eyes, like a pearl oyster cherishing the single pearl within its shell—he never needed her to know. He was willing to lay himself flat as a road, sending her to a place of peace and tranquility.
If only we had not been born here.
Emperor Xu’s voice rumbled like distant thunder in his ears.
How true it was. If they had merely been brothers born into an ordinary family, perhaps their ill-fated bond would not have been so heavy. If they had been ordinary men and women in a chaotic era, their betrayals and failures might not have cut so deep, so bloodily.
The ghostly hands of death wrapped around him, layer by layer, obscuring his vision and constricting his breath. His clear gaze gradually scattered, and the weight of his unsupported body pushed the jade chessboard to the floor, black and white pieces scattering noisily across the ground.By now, she should have escaped safely, right? As his vision gradually dimmed, the sword in Emperor Xu's hand, once fluid as a dancing dragon, could no longer pierce through the encroaching darkness. In the final moment before everything crumbled, he mustered a pale, ashen smile.
The color of the sea deepened, as if congealing into a dark blue mirror. The treasure ship, like a small shuttle, sailed steadily northeast, cleaving through the snow-white waves upon the mirror-like surface.
A cool, moist sea breeze poured through the window into the lavishly decorated cabin, causing the translucent blue-green gauze skirt to flutter, light as a breeze tinged with ethereal colors. Amidst the azure strands of hair, scattered teardrops shimmered like stardust, covering her knees. A pair of delicate, pointed ears twitched slightly. Amidst the sound of the tides, Langhuan gradually awakened, offering a faint smile to Haishi. Though her expression remained weak, her eyes seemed to have come back to life.
Slender fingers brushed through Langhuan's hair, and she suddenly furrowed her brows, gently grasping Haishi's hand.
Haishi smiled faintly. "Langhuan, now only these ten fingers of mine still obey me. Fortunately, we are at sea now. If you wish to leave, it will be very easy." Unnoticed, a young man in crimson robes stood at the cabin door, gazing at her with a smile and said leisurely, "How is it? Your limbs are numb and weak, no longer feeling any pain or itch, right? In another half-hour, your vision will gradually fade, followed by deafness and muteness, until even thought becomes impossible. This mandala pollen, a specialty of Tuhulu, is fragrant and sweet. Just a little mixed into rouge is enough to induce a death-like state for three days before its effects wear off. But you won't need those three days. By now, those two are probably already dead. There's no point in you living alone." Haishi lifted her head and sneered coldly at Solan and Bonanaje, who had approached. "You swear never to send troops into the Eastern Continent, yet in secret, you support rebellions. Even your reverence for the Dragon-Tail God is nothing but empty pretense." Solan seized Langhuan's wrists and pulled her behind him, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Madam, though Emperor Xu defiled the gods and is despised by us, it was your own Eastern Continent's Jingji Battalion that attacked the imperial city." Haishi glanced at the sky outside the window and murmured, "It's already noon. With the uproar of slaughter in the imperial city and rumors that Prince Chang perished at sea in a typhoon, the capital's populace must be in turmoil by now." "What?" Prince Chang's heart tightened involuntarily.
"Rumors spread faster than plague. Your subordinates are either tearing each other apart over the imperial seal or have already lost their morale, being devoured piece by piece by Zhang Chengqian." Haishi extended a trembling hand, supporting her weakened body as she slowly stood up. The luxurious black ceremonial robe adorned with pheasant feathers, worn for the ritual, fluttered fiercely in the sea breeze.
"Zhang Chengqian? That son of a butcher who could be bought for a mere two hundred thousand taels of silver?" Prince Chang laughed."Indeed, the son of a butcher's family was also one of the dozens of soldiers Fang Jianming saved on the battlefield." Haishi struggled step by step toward Prince Chang, then suddenly laughed. That faint smile on Ji Chang's face bore such a striking resemblance to Emperor Xu—something he probably never realized himself. Prince Chang sneered, "Even if he can hold the imperial city, he won't last long. Tang Qianzi won't sit idly by while the capital falls into chaos—even if not for my sake, there are people in the capital he must protect." "Tang Qianzi will never leave Huangquan Pass. The left and right Pudu tribes of the Huku outside the pass have formed an alliance and ceased their internal strife. The moment there's any unusual movement at Huangquan Pass, the Huku will swarm in. As long as Tang Qianzi still has a conscience, that is my advantage. Zhang Chengqian will keep Tilan safe, and she will be a valuable bargaining chip to hold Tang Qianzi back." The woman before him laughed so joyfully that it stirred an uneasy premonition in Prince Chang's heart.
"If anything happens to my royal sister, my father will never let you off!" Suolan cried out in shock and fury.
Before his words faded, a flash of sword light sliced through the air, shearing off a lock of Prince Chang's black hair.
The woman, who should have been frail and weak, moved with lightning speed, drawing the sword from Prince Chang's waist and thrusting it diagonally toward his chest—her agility was startling. However, the mandrake poison had indeed numbed her limbs. This concentrated, full-force strike lost its accuracy mid-thrust. Blocked by Ji Chang's powerful palm strike to her waist, she could no longer hold on and tumbled out of the third-floor cabin window, rolling onto the deck. By the time Ji Chang slowly descended to the deck, Haishi had just managed to struggle to her feet, leaning against the ship's railing, her hair disheveled, her movements sluggish and strained.
Ji Chang tossed aside the sword in his hand and took a step toward Haishi. She lacked the strength to evade, forced to watch as his hand reached out, gradually tightening its grip on her collar.
"With that wolf-like, unyielding glare, if you were a man, you'd likely become a formidable figure in these turbulent times." The air grew thin, and she lost her last resistance, while Ji Chang's whisper lingered in her ears, "But a woman, after all, is just a woman. It was Fang Jianming who pushed you to the brink. Why sacrifice your life for someone like him?" He cruelly and slowly increased the pressure of his grip. Haishi's waist arched backward until her upper body hung upside down over the sea, her lavish, heavy robes billowing like a dance.
Haishi opened her eyes. The world spun violently, the boundless blue sea suspended above her like the sky, so turbulent it seemed it might collapse at any moment. A defiant, faint smile curled at her pale lips as she murmured, "You wouldn't understand." She bit her lower lip.
A vivid trail of blood trickled from the corner of her mouth down her cheek. With an almost tender expression, she closed her eyes, letting the thin stream of blood trace across her sealed lashes, seep into her hair, gather into droplets at the tips, hang, fall, and vanish like a small crimson wisp of smoke. Amid the sound of the tides, it seemed to stir a clear, echoing resonance."What lies within the Mermaid Sea is something you nobles of celestial lineage could never comprehend." Haishi opened her eyes once more, trails on her face like crimson tear stains, eerie and captivating. "The rumors spreading in the imperial capital are not mere gossip—they are coming." Beneath the vast azure ocean, something was being roused by bloodshed.
A rustling sound swept across the deck as the ship rose and fell, scattered pearls clattering against the hull. Those were Lang Huan’s tears. The mermaid’s deep blue pupils, like oceans held within, silently reflected the war-torn world.
And she heard the sound of the undercurrents, gradually approaching from beneath the calm, emerald waves.
Human tides ebbed and flowed, seasons shifted. Across the eight directions and four poles, time cycled endlessly. Only in this moment before the violent arrival of death did the salty wind brush against wounds, stirring a faint, tingling pain—as if piercing through a rigid cocoon, allowing Haishi to perceive with unprecedented clarity that she was alive.
For an instant, she smiled like a carefree, fearless child. Perhaps it was already too late to salvage this collapsing empire, or perhaps he had already descended into the underworld before her.
But at the very least, she had done the last thing she could for him. Then she would close her eyes, relinquish all stubbornness and struggle, and sink into an eternal slumber beneath the deep sea—she was utterly exhausted. He was a wound in her heart that had never healed, one that only death could cure.
A thunderous roar erupted from the horizon, boiling waves closing in from all sides. From amidst the snow-capped mountain-like swells, colossal steel-blue bodies breached the surface.
The eighteen-zhang-long keel of the treasure ship cracked and split into two halves, masts snapping like weeds under the waves. Countless dorsal fins, vast enough to blot out the sky, tore through the water, churning dark crimson currents beneath the white foam. The faint cries of humans were finally swallowed by the raging torrent.
She was tossed high into the air like a leaf, then plummeted into the ocean at a dizzying speed.
The murky green sea surface resembled the sky of another world, shattered planks and human limbs spinning wildly in the currents. Enormous shadows darted back and forth, and she felt as though she would be torn apart by the water flow.
Necklaces of jewels.
Jade pendants.
Silken brocades spread like frost.
Golden cups adorned with coiling dragon motifs, blades forged by the river folk.
All the splendors and luxuries sank into the boundless depths of the emerald waters. Haishi smiled faintly, coughing out a string of tiny bubbles. Was she not, after all, a clumsy actor in this grand spectacle of opulence? Let it all sink, then. To sleep forever at the bottom of the sea, never to see the light of day again, encrusted with oysters and shells, entwined by seaweed and coral.
She closed her eyes and sank toward the silent graveyard.
Amid the chaos, a pair of slender arms wrapped firmly around her. Haishi opened her eyes and, in her fading vision, saw Lang Huan’s anxious face.
Lang Huan, let me go. Haishi parted her pale lips, silently conveying the words to the mermaid through the chaotic currents. Lang Huan shook her head urgently and placed a hand over Haishi’s abdomen. A white light swelled from her palm, enveloping Haishi’s body. Within the gentle core of the light, a tiny, curled embryo floated, as delicate as a transparent fry.
Warm tears escaped her eyes, dissipating into the frigid seawater. That murky green sky—she could no longer see it.That day, the eight thousand imperial guards waiting on the shore all swore they had seen the Dragon-Tailed Goddess. She had enchanting, beautiful azure curls, crystalline blue webbed membranes like gossamer, and eyes shimmering with iridescent pearls, like the unfathomable whirlpools of the deepest seas. Riding atop a giant shark, she broke through the waves and returned Lady Pearl-Measure to the mortal world.
More than ten days later, the waves washed a few fragments of the treasure ship ashore.
In October of that year, Emperor Xu’s posthumous son, Chu Weiyun, was born. In November, he ascended the throne as Emperor Yun, changing the era name to Jingheng. Consort Chunrong of the Fang clan was elevated to Empress Dowager and served as regent for twenty-two years.
In the first year of Jingheng, the Left and Right Pudun tribes of the Hokku annexed the Poduona and Qiduoli tribes, unifying the four tribes under one rule. Erji assumed the throne as the Hokku King. That same year, Erji died suddenly, and Duohan succeeded him.
In the third year of Jingheng, a rebellion broke out in Lilan County but was quelled within half a month.
In the fourth year of Jingheng, the Hokku annexed Jiaman.
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