Yin Qing nodded slightly. "I never intended to stir such waves at court. Until Your Excellency arrives in Shu Province, this matter cannot be revealed to the court. Should the Emperor learn of it, with his thunderous methods, he would surely not permit Your Excellency to remain alive."
A flicker of light passed through her eyes, then vanished as she murmured softly, "Indeed."
Outside, the sky began to pale, dawn's light gently brushing the window frames, accompanied by occasional birdsong.
Meng Tinghui rose and extinguished the candle flame. "It's growing late. I fear the Privy Council may be searching for me, so I shall take my leave first."
Yin Qing watched her for a long moment before picking up her brush again and spreading a fresh sheet of paper.
The morning wind outside was bitterly cold, the distant sky a chaotic blend of blue and white mist. A sliver of silver moon still hung stubbornly near the palace eaves.
As she walked, an uncontrollable chill seeped through her entire body.
Her footsteps felt like treading on soft clouds—each step empty, as if she might plummet at any moment.
She wasn't unafraid, nor was she free of doubt, but fear and suspicion were useless now.
Since childhood, she had wondered about her parents' identity, never imagining that one day she would inherit such a bloody legacy of vengeance.
She couldn't be certain if this was truly her origin, but her certainty no longer mattered.
The hatred for a fallen nation and shattered family, the forest of silver spears and clusters of sharp arrows—they wove together into an inescapable net descending upon her with terrifying precision.
The gathering of tens of thousands of former dynasty loyalists in the northern territories hinged entirely on her identity as the last imperial descendant.
Whether it was true or not wasn't hers to decide anymore.
Yet in this world, what right or wrong, love or hatred, could ever be resolved with mere words?
Orphaned since youth, in the deep silence of night she had always yearned to nestle close to parents like other children, to absorb that small measure of warmth.
But the most profound warmth she'd ever known came from that one night years ago, in the embrace of a youth whose arms were both broad and strong.
...If my body can bring relief to the people, I would not regret its loss.
How many families had been torn apart by the northern border conflicts and roaming bandits? How many children, like her younger self, had permanently lost their parents, left with no one to rely on? Was avenging this fallen nation and broken family truly worth sacrificing the joys and sorrows of millions of common people?
His father had executed her parents and kin, yet because of that single warm embrace in her youth, she had fallen irrevocably in love with him.
Willingly she knelt at his feet, giving without expectation, never regretting any action or method she employed.
Even if one day he demanded her death, she would not repent.
How ironic it all was.
His words from that night in the snowy hot springs pierced her bones, now swirling endlessly in her ears amid the early summer breeze.
...If I were to love, heaven and earth would bear witness, with these rivers and mountains as my testament.
Faintly, she recalled Shen Zhili's words from earlier that night: "The Emperor is cold-hearted indeed; personal sentiments never sway state affairs."
She wondered, in this time of great turmoil, if he learned of her origins—would he choose his empire, or would he choose her?
Her heart grew numb.
He was her enlightened ruler, but more importantly, he was the enlightened ruler for all the people. She refused to compete with this vast empire for his affection.
In the past, she had been willing to do anything for him and his realm.
But this realm belonged to the people as well. Now, if acting for the people's benefit required it, how could she not willingly sacrifice for him one more time?...If her body could bring relief to the people, she would not hesitate to sacrifice it.
As golden sunlight pierced through the clouds, she had just arrived at the steps before the Hall of Profound Thought.
The palace attendants waiting outside hurried to greet her upon seeing her approach.
She asked them, "Has His Majesty risen?"
An attendant bowed their head and replied, "His Majesty did not sleep all night, and no one dared to disturb him."
She nodded and, without waiting for anyone to announce her, ascended the steps and knocked on the palace door, calling out from outside, "Your subject, Meng Tinghui, seeks an audience with Your Majesty."
After a long silence from within, she pushed the door open and entered on her own.
He was reclining on a low couch beside the imperial desk, a memorial in his hand, but his eyes were slightly closed, and his brow was etched with weariness.
The sound of her closing the door was somewhat loud, startling him awake.
His gaze fell upon her smiling face bathed in the morning light, and the deep furrows on his brow softened slightly. He said in a low voice, "Who gave you the audacity to enter without permission?"
She walked toward him, her lips pressed together slightly, and knelt directly before him, bowing her head. "Your Majesty, I wish to be sent as an envoy to the northern border to negotiate peace."
He studied her intently, then let out a low, sharp rebuke: "Get out!"
She remained motionless, her voice soft. "If Your Majesty does not grant my request, I will not rise from my knees."
He abruptly sat up, his entire body radiating anger, and said coldly, "Meng Tinghui, do not push me."
"I am not pushing Your Majesty," she said, lifting her eyes to meet his, her gaze clear and unwavering. "To restore peace in the north, we must temporarily halt northern affairs and focus on eradicating the bandits. For the sake of the country and its people, a civil official must be sent as an envoy to the northern border. As a member of the two councils, how can I rest in my position without fulfilling my duties? Chancellor Gu and General Fang are right—there is no civil official in the court more suited for this mission to the Northern Chaoan Border than I. Your Majesty’s refusal is solely out of fear for my safety. But with Golden Gorge Pass now under our control, if I go to the front lines, General Di will surely ensure my safety inside and out. It is merely a matter of negotiating peace with the Northern Frontier envoys—what could possibly go wrong? Please allow me to go to the northern border for two or three months. Once the bandit threat subsides, I will return to the capital immediately."
His words were sharp as a blade: "Absolutely not."
She knelt upright and said, "Your Majesty, if I wish to remain by your side for a lifetime, I must achieve something of merit. If I succeed in this mission to the northern border, no one in the court will dare speak ill of me again. Moreover, I will have the qualifications to enter the Hall of State Affairs in the future, sparing Your Majesty further difficulties."
His rigid expression softened slightly at the words "a lifetime," but he pressed his lips together and remained silent.
She gazed at him tenderly, thought for a moment, and added, "I once told Your Majesty that I hoped no child would ever have to lose their parents and be left alone and helpless. Does Your Majesty remember? The northern war has already claimed too many innocent lives. If the people suffer, Your Majesty’s heart will ache as well. If my mission to the northern border succeeds, it will bring the war to an end sooner. Why must Your Majesty cling to concerns for my safety and refuse to let me go?"
His expression gradually shifted. Knowing how deeply he cared for the people, she fell silent and waited for his response.
After a long while, he closed his eyes slightly and said in a low voice, "Meng Tinghui, have I not been good enough to you?"
Her nose tingled with emotion, but she held back her tears. "It is I who do not know what is good for me."
He leaned forward, pulled her up, and embraced her tightly, his thin lips pressing against her forehead. "Since you wish to go so badly, I grant you permission."This embrace was as warm as ever, so warm that it made her tremble to the very marrow of her bones.
She clung tightly to him, her voice slightly choked with emotion. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
He lifted her in his arms and carried her toward the inner chamber, disregarding the objects knocked over along the way. With a firm arm, he laid her upon the bed, drew down the imperial curtains, and turned to encircle her in his embrace with such force that she could scarcely breathe.
She felt as though her bones might be crushed by his strength, yet she pressed even closer against him, wishing she could meld herself into his very being.
Suddenly, he spoke hoarsely by her ear, "Meng Tinghui, you still owe me one thing."
She recalled the promise made on the night of his birthday and smiled faintly. "Has Your Majesty now decided what you wish to claim from your servant?"
He gave a slight nod, his large hand pressing firmly against her back as if fearing she might retreat or flee. His low voice penetrated deep into her heart. "Give me a child."
Her entire body shuddered, and her breath caught.
It felt like an eternity before she processed his words. A bittersweet tide gradually rose in her heart, overwhelming her with its bitterness. Finally, she spoke, "Very well. Once your servant returns from the northern frontier, I shall fulfill Your Majesty's wish."
He lowered his head, gently brushing his lips against hers, and said in a husky voice, "You must not deceive your sovereign."
A tear slipped from the corner of her eye, yet the corners of her mouth lifted in a smile as she replied, "Even if I had the audacity of the heavens, I would not dare deceive Your Majesty by so much as a single word."
She drifted into a hazy sleep and awoke just as dazedly.
Outside, the day was already bright. The thin gauze curtains could not block the sunlight streaming through the seams, casting a soft glow upon the smooth brocade bedding, creating a faint, resplendent halo.
There was no one beside her.
Wrapped in the thin quilt, she knew he had left for the morning court session and was unsurprised he had not roused her to attend.
After last night, the morning court would undoubtedly be discussing matters of the northern frontier. Her mission to the north would likely be officially revoked during the session, but she had no mind to concern herself with anything else.
She would simply feign illness for the day. Since he doted on her so, she would indulge in this willful sense of justification and enjoy his imperial favor for once.
She lay back down and dozed off again, slipping into a shallow dream where she stood drenched in a torrential downpour in the wilderness, chilled to the bone, before shivering awake.
Pushing aside the bed curtains, she rose and went to the window, pressing her hand against the sun-warmed window frame. It took a long while for her to catch her breath.
In his absence, the palace attendants naturally dared not disturb her.
This was the place where he usually handled state affairs and spent his nights. That he would so trustingly leave her here alone, entirely unafraid she might do something improper.
She decided to follow her own whims and roam freely through the empty hall of governance.
The memorials on the imperial desk were neatly arranged, with vermilion ink, purple brushes, paperweights, and porcelain brush washers all in perfect order.
She casually flipped through a few, and upon seeing the vigorous, cursive strokes of the vermilion endorsements, she sighed softly in her heart. Turning, she looked toward the black lacquered wooden stand nearby.
In the innermost compartment, a thick stack of memorials was set apart, arranged in meticulous order.
Curious about what important matters these might be, she boldly pulled one out to examine.
As soon as she opened it, she froze. She then pulled out several more, and her eyes grew moist after reading them.
These were all the memorials she had submitted over the years.
Most were those he had neither endorsed nor returned, along with some draft edicts and decrees concerning her—all preserved with such impeccable care.From her initial entry into the Imperial Academy to her current position in the two highest ministries, and from his days as Crown Prince to his present status as the Ninefold Sovereign, every shared moment between them in the court remained vividly etched in her memory.
She sat quietly, leafing through memorials one by one from the past. Occasionally, she noticed vermilion endorsements he had added to some petitions, though for unknown reasons, they had never been returned to her. These endorsements revealed rare glimpses of his private sentiments.
There were expressions of joy and anger, praise and reprimands, yet none had ever reached her awareness.
As she read on, tears welled up uncontrollably. Fearing they might dampen the documents, she hastily arranged the memorials back in their original order, wiped her eyes, and returned to the inner chamber.
The inner chamber was impeccably tidy, his robes and Imperial Regalia stored together in one place. At a glance, they presented a palette of somber, muted hues—black, gray, indigo, and brown—crafted from luxurious silks, brocades, and satins, exuding understated elegance without ostentation.
She reached out, tracing each garment with her fingers, then buried her face in them, inhaling the faint scent unique to him.
Nearby rested his imperial bow and longsword. The bow gleamed with gilded brilliance, while the sword emitted a cold, piercing light. Heavy armor, imposing and severe, lay piled to the side. Some of the quivers and leather straps had faded from wear but were still polished to a radiant shine.
Gripping the bow’s curve, she recalled the time he had personally taught her archery on horseback. His words, "My woman," echoed in her ears as clearly as if spoken yesterday, stirring her heart.
The longsword beside it was dark and intimidating, its plain sheath exceptionally heavy. Though devoid of any decorative patterns, it was unmistakably a masterpiece among blades.
Though she had seldom seen him wear it, the sword showed no trace of dust, suggesting he regularly polished and practiced with it.
Carefully, she grasped the hilt and drew the sword. The blade was uniformly black, seamless and flawless, with a subtle, rhinoceros-like sheen reflecting from its edges.
Upon closer inspection, she noticed two lines of extremely small characters engraved on the blade.
Frowning slightly, she lifted the sword for a better look. When she deciphered the words, she froze.
"Above the Nine Heavens, I yield to you; beneath the Nine Springs, I await you."
These fourteen words were brief and simple, yet profoundly powerful and soul-stirring, sending a shiver down her spine and erasing all other thoughts from her mind.
Suddenly, the chamber door was thrust open from outside. Turning at the sound, she saw him stride in with vigorous steps.
"Your Majesty," she said, holding the sword as he approached. A radiant smile curved her lips as she set the weapon aside and threw herself into his arms, looping her hands around his neck. "With Your Majesty absent, I have been presumptuous."
He swept her up and seated her on the long table, bracing his hands on the surface behind her, and leaned down to kiss her cheek. "Be as presumptuous as you like."
She turned her face away, laughing softly.
Noticing the sword on the table, he arched a brow, swiftly sheathed it, and chided, "A novice with a blade—aren’t you afraid of cutting yourself?"
Her eyes sparkled as she replied, "This sword is truly beautiful."
His sharp features softened almost imperceptibly, a slight smile tugging at his lips. "This sword was gifted by my father to my mother, and later passed down to me."
A flicker of understanding crossed her mind, hinting at why those words were engraved on the blade. She murmured, "Above the Nine Heavens, beneath the Nine Springs..." then glanced up at him. "Those words ache with poignant meaning."His grip on the sword tightened briefly before loosening again. "After Zhongwan was destroyed, my father knew his injuries were beyond healing. Fearing that the realm would plunge into chaos and drag millions into war after his passing, he devised this plan." A sudden warmth flickered in his eyes. "Yet for all his calculations, he never foresaw that he would survive."
Few today could fully comprehend the events of those years. Most believed his father had relinquished the throne for love, not understanding what the kingdom truly meant, what the world represented, or the nature of life, death, love, and hatred.
His father had been a warrior all his life—how could he have surrendered an empire for a woman? Had it not been for his precarious health, his concern for the people, and the fact that the recipient was his mother, the Empress, his father would never have made such a choice, even in death.
She reached out to touch the sword again, her expression softening with compassion. Nodding gently, she said, "Prince Ping was truly a noble man. Had I been in his position, I would have done the same." Withdrawing her hand, she met his gaze. "Struggles over territory and throne only bring suffering to the people. Knowing his death was imminent, entrusting his legacy to his beloved to spare the world from war—how could that be wrong?"
Seeing the moisture in her eyes, he frowned and caressed her cheek. "But he survived after all. To this day, he remains with my mother, revered by all, his legacy enduring through the ages."
She swallowed her tears and smiled, clasping his hand. "Yes, I was being foolish for a moment." Composing herself, she slid off the long table and grinned. "I'm so hungry—it must be hunger clouding my judgment."
Knowing she hadn't eaten since yesterday, he ordered a meal brought to the chamber and led her to sit with him.
She leaned in, resting her hands on his knees, and gazed at his handsome face. "It seems I've never dined with Your Majesty before."
He responded with a noncommittal "Hmm," lifting a silver spoon of soup to her lips while calmly watching her.
She obediently drank it, then licked her lips, her dark eyes crinkling with laughter. "Your Majesty is so kind to me."
Rarely did he see her cast aside formalities between ruler and subject. Amused by her docility, he chuckled softly. "Where has your sharp-tongued counsel gone today?"
She looked at him quietly before whispering after a long pause, "Because I wish to be willful just this once."
...Because she didn't know if she would ever have another chance to be so willful.
He fed her another spoonful, his expression suddenly turning serious. "During morning court, I announced your diplomatic mission to the northern frontier. Fang Kai proposed Vice Chief of the Privy Council Tang Cheng as your deputy. What are your thoughts?"
"Very well," she replied softly.
He continued in a low voice, "Once decided, this matter cannot be delayed. The Secretariat will prepare the diplomatic documents and supplies today and tomorrow. The day after, Palace Guard escorts will accompany you and Tang Cheng north to Chao'an. From there, proceed through Chongzhou to Tingzhou, where Di Nian will send troops to meet you. The Imperial Army will then escort you both to Golden Gorge Pass."
After a moment's thought, she suggested, "Could we detour through Qing Province after reaching Chao'an? I'd like to visit Lord Shen and some old friends from the women's academy."
"Acceptable," he agreed, "but do not linger. I'll have Shen Zhishu assign additional guards to join the Palace Guard in escorting you to Tingzhou."
She nodded with a faint smile. "I'll only pay a brief visit and depart immediately."His expression also cooled. "Why do you wish to see them this time?"
She lowered her gaze, remaining silent for a long moment before saying, "Because this subject has only this one old friend in Chaoan, and since entering the court, there has been no opportunity to meet."
...Because, this subject doesn’t know if there will be another chance to see her again.
Meng Tinghui and Tang Cheng’s departure from the capital was carried out with minimal fanfare.
Before dawn, a thousand Imperial Guards from the Palace Guard silently escorted two carriages out of the northern gate of the capital, heading straight onto the official road leading to the northern circuits.
By the Emperor’s strict decree, no officials from the inner or outer court were permitted to bid them farewell. Only ten days later would it be announced to the world that the court had dispatched civil officials to the northern border for peace negotiations.
To avoid drawing attention, the guards carried no command banners. All matters regarding the journey north were coordinated by Huang Bo, following the Emperor’s edict that all military orders were to come solely from Meng Tinghui.
She had not informed Yin Qing of her departure.
It was not for lack of time or opportunity, but rather out of fear that any misstep might cause further complications. Moreover, once news of her mission to the northern border reached the north, it was likely that those there would also make preparations.
Tang Cheng was not particularly familiar with her; in the Privy Council, they had merely been colleagues. She knew he was a dutiful man, which was why Fang Kai had chosen him as deputy envoy to accompany her to Northern Frontier. Yet, precisely because of this, she was even more reluctant to drag innocent others into trouble.
The journey proceeded without incident until they reached the border between Chaoan North Circuit and Chengfu Circuit, where it became clear that the northern regions were truly different from before.
To avoid encountering bandits along the way, Huang Bo had specifically ordered the guards to detour through the northwestern Chengfu Circuit to enter the Chaoan area. Although this place was far from Jiankang Circuit, panicked refugees could still be seen from time to time on both sides of the official road.
Before setting out from the capital, Meng Tinghui had known that the bandit scourge had spread from Jiankang Circuit to the southern prefectures of Chaoan and Linhuai Circuits. Yet, she had not expected to see people displaced by banditry and war even here, in the eastern part of Chengfu Circuit near the border with Chaoan North Circuit.
As the carriage traveled onward, her heart sank with each passing mile, yet it only strengthened her conviction that her prior decision had been correct.
By the time they crossed Jingqiao County and officially entered Chaoan territory, the sky was already half-dark.
Huang Bo swiftly dispatched men to notify the official courier station ahead, then personally escorted the carriages of Meng Tinghui and Tang Cheng onward.
The border regions near small counties were desolate. Having rained during the day, the road at night was even more difficult to traverse. The carriage jolted slowly along the muddy path, the faint lights in the distance resembling scattered stars.
Meng Tinghui was dozing lightly in the carriage when she suddenly heard the urgent shouts of Imperial Guards outside, followed by the sharp, piercing wail of a child.
She lifted the curtain to look outside. By the light of the pine resin torch at the front of the carriage, she saw a little girl of about five or six being lifted from the mud by a soldier, and she frowned slightly.
It seemed that due to the darkness on the road, the Imperial Guards had not been careful enough while riding and had accidentally injured the child. But there was no one else around—how could such a young child be alone in a place like this?
She ordered the little girl to be brought into the carriage. Examining her by the light, she saw that the child’s arm appeared to have been kicked by a horse, and her heart ached. She instructed her attendants, "Take this child with us. Once we reach the courier station, have the station soldiers find a physician from the city."
Huang Bo also stepped forward to sternly command the rest of the troops to proceed with greater caution, ensuring no one else was harmed.The little girl was still crying, her face smeared with tears and dirt, looking utterly disheveled. She kept screaming "Mother" at the top of her lungs, her voice hoarse with desperation.
Meng Tinghui took out a handkerchief to wipe her face, then held her in his arms, asking gently, "Where is your mother?"
The little girl was crying so hard she could barely catch her breath, her small hands clutching tightly at the hem of her clothes. "Mama... Mama said she was going to find food for A'Qiao, told A'Qiao not... not to run around. A'Qiao stayed alone in the field for so long, but Mama never came back... A'Qiao is scared of the dark, A'Qiao is so hungry..."
Meng Tinghui quickly fetched water and food for her, but the child was too frightened to touch it, only whimpering for her mother, her dark eyes brimming with tears.
A soldier rode over on horseback and reported, "Lord Meng, there are many refugees here. This child was likely abandoned by her parents."
Meng Tinghui nodded, ordered the carriage to continue moving, and lowered the curtain, plunging the interior into dimness.
The little girl trembled in her arms, utterly terrified.
Meng Tinghui gently stroked her head and whispered, "Don't be afraid. I'm not a bad person. Once the carriage stops, I'll find a physician to tend to your arm, and the pain will go away soon."
Biting her fingers, the girl shed tears, her wide, tear-filled eyes fixed on the carriage curtain as she murmured, "They... they kill people... so many people. A'Qiao's father was killed by them..."
Meng Tinghui’s heart clenched. She knew the child was too young to distinguish between soldiers and rebels, mistaking anyone on horseback with weapons for the rampaging bandits. She held the girl tightly and said softly, "Don’t worry, there won’t be any more bad people killing others."
The little girl stared at her with wide, fearful eyes.
Meng Tinghui offered her water and spoke slowly, "Do you know? Our Great Ping Emperor is a good ruler. As soon as he heard that bad people were causing trouble here, he sent me to warn them not to harm our citizens, or they would face severe consequences. When those bad people heard the Emperor’s words, they immediately stopped killing indiscriminately."
The little girl continued to gaze at her and whispered, "Really?"
Meng Tinghui nodded with absolute certainty. "Really." After a moment’s thought, she added, "As long as the Emperor reigns, he will never allow the people to suffer like this."
The little girl buried her face in Meng Tinghui’s chest and began to sob softly again. "Mama... did Mama abandon A'Qiao? A'Qiao won’t ask for food anymore... please come back, Mama..."
Meng Tinghui’s official robes grew warm and damp, the moisture seeping into her heart. Looking down at the small girl, she saw her own younger self—helpless, alone, and vulnerable. If she hadn’t been found back then, would she have perished in this desolate wilderness?
The night wind rose, causing the horses to whinny and the wild grass to rustle desolately.
If conditions were this dire here, how much worse were they in the counties and towns pillaged by the Rebel Army?
If she could bring relief to the people, she would spare no effort.
…
That night at the official post in Jingqiao Town, she was tormented by nightmares all night long.
Her dreams were filled with bloodshed and fighting, palaces and ruined temples, some laughing while others wept, some screaming and others clamoring—a horrifying chaos.
When she woke early the next morning, her bedclothes were soaked with cold sweat.
At daybreak, Huang Bo came to escort her to the carriage, deeply concerned that the western borders of Chongan might be attacked by bandits and fearing for her safety. He urged her and Tang Cheng to depart quickly for Qing Province.
Though Meng Tinghui understood the necessity of leaving promptly, she instructed her attendants to ensure the little girl was properly cared for and, if possible, to help find her mother. The post officials dared not refuse and hurried to make the arrangements.The morning breeze was quite cool, with the first rays of the sun just emerging. The horses trotted briskly as the entire cavalry hastened their pace toward Qing Province.
During a brief rest along the way, even Tang Cheng, who was usually not one for many words, wore a grim expression and sighed repeatedly to her. It was clear he too had not anticipated the northern region would deteriorate to its current state.
After traveling several dozen li north past Jingqiao Town, the road gradually became easier to traverse. Riding at full speed for over a day, they finally reached the outskirts of Qing Province just before nightfall.
Upon hearing the report, Shen Zhishu personally rode out ten li from the city to greet them.
The spirited horse raised its hooves, and the figure atop it appeared lean. The Transport Commissioner’s command banner was held high against the encroaching darkness, like a sudden streak of light sweeping through the gloom. From afar, the sight lifted a weight from her heart, dispelling much of the gloom she had carried.
Only after entering Qing Province did Huang Bo begin to relax slightly. Sitting upright on his horse, he bowed respectfully to Shen Zhishu, saying, “Lord Shen.”
Meng Tinghui had already ordered the carriage to stop, dismounting to switch to horseback. She urged her horse forward toward Shen Zhishu and said, “I have only one night to spare in Qing Province. Take me directly to the Yan residence.”
Shen Zhishu’s back, as he sat on his horse, stiffened almost imperceptibly. He neither turned around nor uttered a word, merely tugging the reins deftly and steering his horse to proceed in another direction.
In the moment he turned his head to the side, she caught sight of a fine scar that had, unbeknownst to her, marred his handsome face.
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