Dozens of people present gradually rose and left, leaving only Su standing in place.
"He Cai is gone. I want to find a reason to keep living," Su said.
Su was an orphan. Recruited into the Crane Control Institute at the age of twelve, he underwent countless life-and-death trials before finally joining the Crane Control Army. He entered the assassin profession relatively late. In the monotonous days and nights of killing that followed, all his memories before twelve became increasingly vivid and clear—even the times he nearly died fighting beggars for scraps of food became precious recollections. He could never truly harden his heart like ice.
In midnight dreams, his mind was filled with the people he had killed. He began seeking companions in the Crane Control Army, using desire and their body warmth to drive away the cold nights.
He liked He Cai. At first, it was because of her fiery figure—just another attempt to borrow her warmth for a night, as was common. In the Crane Control Army, everyone lived day by day, uncertain if tomorrow would come. Female assassins didn't place much importance on chastity, yet He Cai acted like a chaste martyr, not only refusing but even fighting him.
From then on, his desire to conquer her was ignited.
As for when he fell into the snare of love, he couldn't say. He only knew he was ecstatic when He Cai agreed to retire with him, and he only felt thunderstruck when she died.
Su murmured, "I thought after so many years as an assassin, I'd grown indifferent to life and death. But when He Cai died before my eyes, I realized I'd never truly understood."
What he couldn't comprehend wasn't life and death—it was love.
Chu Dingjiang looked at him and felt as though he were looking at himself.
Until this moment, he had believed he'd attained enlightenment in this life. Who would have thought that after letting go of grand ambitions, he'd fallen into another obsession?
To live in this world, one must have some madness to make life vivid. So Chu Dingjiang thought.
"I've lost," Chu Dingjiang sighed.
Su was slightly surprised. How could setting up the Net of Heaven and Earth to effortlessly destroy the Crown Prince's faction be considered a failure? What, then, would count as victory? Suddenly angry, he said, "We risked our lives for this outcome. And you call it a loss?"
Compared to most historical power struggles, this battle had indeed been relatively easy—largely due to Chu Dingjiang.
"You won. I lost," Chu Dingjiang said calmly. "Even if I overturned the empire, I couldn't protect one person. That's why I lost."
Chu Dingjiang felt he had lived two lifetimes, giving him an advantage from the start. Yet in the end, though he schemed for the empire, he couldn't protect his woman. It was fate's naked mockery of him.
Amid the raging flames of war, Chu Dingjiang once believed that given the chance, he might not be inferior to figures like Zhang Yi, Song Chuyi, or Xishou. Now, he realized how far short he fell.
"No wonder He Cai liked you," Su said, somewhat reconciled. Though still grieving her death, he felt that dying for someone she loved had fulfilled her wishes—a kind of perfection in its own way.
Some people rarely indulge in romance, yet always attract those who do.
Chu Dingjiang removed a jade pendant from his person and tossed it to Su. "This token was given to me by the Second Prince. Take it to him, and you may receive generous rewards and important posts. But great benefits come with great risks—weigh them yourself."
Su clutched the pendant as if grasping a scalding handle of power.Chu Dingjiang watched as Su slowly clenched the jade pendant in his hand. He said slowly, "It might fill the emptiness in your heart, or perhaps, you'll feel increasingly hollow."
Without waiting for Su to respond, Chu Dingjiang turned and left. He didn't know He Cai's feelings, nor did he feel the need to repay anyone for He Cai's death. He simply felt suddenly weary. Tired, perhaps it was truly the burden of psychological age—he could no longer summon the stubborn determination of his twenties, that relentless drive to charge ahead even when faced with insurmountable walls.
He thought, even if An Jiu never woke again, he would willingly sit by her bedside until the end of time.
Bianjing.
The palace, freshly drenched in blood, still reeked of carnage. The area near Baohua Gate was soaked in blood, the crimson seeping into the stone bricks, leaving stains that refused to wash away. In the end, they had no choice but to pry them up and lay new ones.
In ten days, Zhao Huo's coronation ceremony would take place. The massive preparations had the entire palace in a frenzy.
Zhao Huo was currently occupied with three main tasks: dealing with the remnants of the Crown Prince's faction; proclaiming to the world that he was the legitimate heir; and rewarding his meritorious officials, as well as posthumously honoring the loyalists who had sacrificed themselves for his cause during the Baohua Gate Incident.
Zhao Huo kept his ministers busy in the Zichen Hall until late at night. During a brief respite of two ke, he stood outside the hall, gazing into the distance. Baohua Gate was ablaze with light, illuminating the ink-black sky, the clamor of voices lending an air of liveliness and joy—though perhaps it was just his state of mind that made it seem so.
Taking over the mess left by his father, Zhao Huo truly felt the weight of responsibility pressing on his shoulders. The Great Song was rotting from within, surrounded by powerful enemies. A single misstep could lead to the dynasty's collapse under his rule.
Redundant officials and soldiers, the emphasis on civil over military affairs—from the court to the common folk, every aspect was rife with factors detrimental to the Song's current development. Where should he even begin?
In the past, Zhao Huo would have eagerly tackled every issue at once. But after this ordeal and the days spent immersed in the heavy burdens of governance, he had swiftly gained a measure of maturity and steadiness. Recalling the mysterious Mr. Chu's assessment of him, Zhao Huo felt a renewed sense of caution.
Chu Dingjiang had once bluntly told Zhao Huo that while he excelled in many areas, his fervor, though commendable, was insufficient for an emperor. What he lacked most was composure and calm.
At the time, Zhao Huo hadn't fully grasped the meaning. He believed that all his efforts and the tremendous risks he'd taken to seize the throne were for the immense power that came with the position—the ability to reshape this crumbling nation according to his will. But now, seated upon the throne, he realized that even with the empire at his command, not everything could be done as he pleased.
To achieve his goals, he would have to suppress his temperament and his burning zeal.
"Your Majesty," Prime Minister Hua bowed respectfully.
Zhao Huo snapped out of his thoughts and sighed. "Prime Minister, why is everything so contrary to what I initially imagined?"
Prime Minister Hua paused, quickly analyzing the implications behind the emperor's words. Though he had a fair grasp of Zhao Huo's thoughts, he replied, "This old minister is dull-witted. Please enlighten me, Your Majesty."
In such an atmosphere, where the emperor clearly sought a heart-to-heart, a competent minister must never appear to understand the ruler's innermost thoughts. In this matter, only by feigning ignorance could one remain safe."I once believed that sitting on this throne above all others would allow me to boldly eradicate the deep-rooted ills of the Great Song, that I could do better than anyone else. But..." Zhao Huo turned to look at Prime Minister Hua, "Now I find myself constrained at every turn. As my father's right-hand man, Prime Minister, I beg your guidance."
Prime Minister Hua bowed again. "Your Majesty flatters this old servant."
Zhao Huo gestured for him to rise. "No need for modesty. I have always believed in your loyalty to the state and sovereign."
His words were tactful, conveying: My father didn't trust you, but I do—so set your mind at ease.
"With Your Majesty's words, this servant would gladly die ten thousand deaths." After this polite response, Prime Minister Hua didn't linger on the topic. Even before supporting the Second Prince, he had studied his temperament—a straightforward man who disliked evasive words or actions. So abandoning his usual diplomatic approach, he spoke directly: "Your Majesty's perspective is a blessing for the Great Song. This old servant shares your zeal for reform, but our foundations already show signs of instability. We cannot act too forcefully—if we wish reforging, we must proceed with patience and gradual steps."
"Where does my minister suggest we begin?" Overwhelmed by the massive responsibilities suddenly thrust upon him, Zhao Huo urgently needed to hear his veteran officials' views.
Prime Minister Hua paused, then stated succinctly: "This servant believes our most pressing task lies with the military."
The Prime Minister, a man of vision himself, wasn't merely pandering to Zhao Huo's preferences—the situation was truly urgent. With the Liao Kingdom watching like a tiger ready to pounce, they might invade while the Song remained internally unstable. If Liao forces stormed Bianjing, what use would other reforms be?
Zhao Huo's eyes brightened as he clapped his hands. "The Prime Minister speaks my very thoughts."
Noticing the dark circles beneath the young emperor's eyes, Prime Minister Hua quickly averted his gaze, reaffirming his choice. Whatever Zhao Huo's future treatment of old ministers might be, at least his focus remained on saving the nation from disaster.
"Prime Minister, are you acquainted with Chu Dingjiang?" Zhao Huo suddenly asked.
The Prime Minister's heart skipped a beat—had Chu Dingjiang's relation to him been exposed? The thought brought shock and overwhelming resentment. That bastard had been abnormal since childhood, truly terrifying. Whether finding a concubine's son as a substitute or joining the Crane Control Army—all were his own decisions, utterly unrelated to his so-called father. He'd long ceased considering that man his son. Yet if this scoundrel's origins were uncovered, the Hua Clan would still be the first to suffer. (To be continued...)
OpenNovel