Love Beyond the Grave

No matter how turbulent the undercurrents in the Southern Capital might be, the common people still went about their daily lives. The streets remained bustling and lively as ever, and Yù Zǎo Tower continued to be packed with guests as usual.

Fang Xianye, who had barely slept all night, stepped out of Yù Zǎo Tower with his servant He Zhi. He Zhi carried a double-layered food box containing freshly baked pastries from the tower, its warm exterior covered in a fine layer of condensation. They had barely taken a few steps outside when a ragged child suddenly rushed out, snatched the food box from He Zhi’s hands, and ran off with it.

He Zhi was momentarily stunned before shouting angrily, "You little brat!"

He chased after the child in fury, but the boy slipped after just a few steps, dropping the box. It slid open, spilling the pastries onto the muddy roadside. Yet the child grabbed the dirt-covered pastries and stuffed them into his mouth, swallowing without even chewing.

By then, He Zhi and Fang Xianye had caught up to him. The moment the boy saw them approaching, he dropped to his knees, kowtowing repeatedly as he pleaded, "Noble sirs... I was so hungry... Please don’t hit me... Have mercy on me..."

Just as He Zhi rolled up his sleeves, Fang Xianye stopped him. He crouched down to look at the child. The boy appeared to be around six or seven years old, wearing only a tattered thin robe in the biting cold of the first lunar month. His face was purple from the cold, his hands and legs covered in festering chilblains. His trembling eyes were filled with fear.

Fang Xianye was silent for a moment before asking, "Where are your parents?"

The child shrank back and whispered, "Dead..."

"How did they die?"

"My family was from Shenzhou... There was a drought, so we fled as refugees... But then the imperial capital was caught in war... One day, my father went out... and somehow died on the roadside. A few days ago, my mother also died of illness... I... My lord, I was just... so hungry..."

As he spoke, the child began to cry. Tears streamed down his chapped face, and he wiped them with his frostbitten hands—until the nobleman before him gently grasped his wrist. The boy, his face streaked with tears, looked up at him in confusion.

Fang Xianye stared into the child’s innocent, vulnerable eyes. In that instant, he thought of Lin Jun, basking in success, and of the young Emperor in Níng Lè Hall, clad in luxurious robes, his expression inscrutable. A shudder ran through him, and a deep fear welled up from within.

What had he been thinking all this time? What had blinded him?

At this moment, the vortex of power suddenly felt distant. He remembered the mutilated, agonized corpses lining the streets during the Southern Capital’s civil strife. He recalled the smoke of battlefields and the common folk toiling in mines and pastures during his time in Yun and Luo provinces.

It was as if he had jolted awake from a dream, suddenly unrecognizable to himself. That Imperial Decree had felt like a curse—ever since receiving it, he had plunged into an abyss of contradiction, forgetting something crucial.

Something of utmost importance. He had forgotten why he had entered official service in the first place.

The Emperor and Lin Jun spoke of "eventual recovery" after Duan Xu’s fall—but even a delay of one or two years meant mountains of gold and countless bleached bones, an unbearable burden on the people. Those seated in power might not feel the pain, but the world was far larger than the imperial palace, far larger than the Southern Capital. Across the thirty-six provinces, how many among the millions of commoners could afford such a price?

Could Great Liang truly afford it?During his time at the Ministry of Revenue, he had witnessed how quickly war burned through money. If the fighting continued and drained Great Liang dry, what prosperity could there be to speak of? How could he openly use the excuse of "saving lives" to commit murder? Because this court was a quagmire of power struggles, where everyone sought to preserve their own wealth and status amidst the turmoil, had he unknowingly become tainted as well?

Fang Xianye closed his eyes, let out a long sigh after a moment, and said to He Zhi, "Go to Yù Zǎo Tower and buy two portions of the same snacks. Give him one, then bring this child back to the residence."

He Zhi was taken aback, scratched his head, and agreed before turning to run into Yù Zǎo Tower.

Fang Xianye stood up. In the faintly chilly sunlight of early spring, he gazed at the distant, towering palace, its golden radiance magnificent and grand. His expression gradually cooled, as frigid as ice in the depths of winter, before finally settling into a sorrowful smile.

At this moment, he had no choice but to admit—Duan Xu's life was more important than his own.

This was a disaster he had caused. He couldn’t let Duan Xu die because of it.

As Duan Jingyuan passed by her father’s study, she noticed the dark sandalwood door tightly shut—something that usually only happened when her father had guests. She hadn’t heard of any visitors today, so curiosity led her toward the door. Before she could take more than a couple of steps, the study door opened, and a figure wearing a veiled hat stepped out.

Her father’s expression was grave, and his face darkened when he saw Duan Jingyuan. Just as he was about to reprimand her, the veiled figure raised a hand to stop him and said, "I was just looking for Miss Duan."

Duan Jingyuan was startled—she had become all too familiar with this voice recently. It was Fang Xianye.

Fang Xianye approached her and handed her a food box. "Thank you for the New Year’s dumplings, Miss Duan. I’ve come to return the container."

Observing her father’s expression, Duan Jingyuan took the box from Fang Xianye and opened it. Her eyes widened in surprise. "Wow! This… this is my favorite… How did you know I love this?"

Fang Xianye seemed to chuckle softly. "Take me to see your brother."

Peeking at her father and seeing no objection, Duan Jingyuan agreed and led Fang Xianye to Duan Xu’s Bright Moon Residence. The room was warm from the lit stove, and Duan Xu was still asleep, buried under thick brocade quilts. In the dim daylight, his face was pale and gaunt, like a paper cutout.

Standing by Duan Xu’s bedside, Duan Jingyuan sighed. "Third Brother drifts in and out of sleep, his fever won’t break, and he’s always disoriented. The former State Preceptor recommended a renowned physician who says there’s a way to help him recover, but it will take some time."

"How much time?"

"The physician didn’t specify."

Fang Xianye nodded. "As long as he doesn’t die."

The bluntness of his words annoyed Duan Jingyuan, but she suppressed her temper. "Third Brother was already in poor health when he returned. Chen Ying’s death in battle hit him hard—he cared deeply for Chen Ying."

Fang Xianye gave a noncommittal smile. "That’s just how he is."

Never expecting anything for himself, yet always shouldering the burdens of others’ fates—or misfortunes.

Studying Fang Xianye’s expression, Duan Jingyuan asked curiously, "You and my third brother… you’re close, aren’t you?"Fang Xianye looked up at Duan Jingyuan, thought for a moment, and said, "You could say that. In this world, your third brother is only owed by others—he owes no one. But soon, he will owe me."

The bright skies of the future would be left for him to see.

Duan Jingyuan wore a puzzled expression, unable to understand what Fang Xianye meant. After a moment of hesitation, she decided to voice the suspicion buried in her heart: "Fang Xianye... are you my father's illegitimate child?"

A crack finally appeared in Fang Xianye's calm demeanor. He widened his eyes at Duan Jingyuan, musing, "So, Miss Duan gave me dumplings because you thought I was your half-brother?"

Jing Yuan choked slightly and hurriedly said, "It doesn’t have to be half-brother! Maybe... maybe you’re my father’s adopted son or something like that."

"Would you prefer me to be your blood brother or just an adopted one?" Fang Xianye asked.

"...What do you mean, what I prefer? What exactly is your relationship with my father?" Jing Yuan glared at him, though the tips of her ears were red, betraying her bluster.

Fang Xianye studied her expression for a long moment before pressing his lips together in a bittersweet, tender smile. "I suppose you could say I’m an adopted son."

Hearing this, Jing Yuan let out a sigh of relief, inexplicably happy for some reason.

But then Fang Xianye seemed to think of something. His throat moved as he gazed at her and said, "In that case... could you call me 'brother' once?"

Jing Yuan met his eyes, but after a moment, she suddenly grew flustered. Fidgeting with the bed curtains, she muttered, "You haven’t been formally recognized by my family. You’re just taking advantage of me."

Fang Xianye’s gaze burned. He clenched his fists but remained silent, staring at her intently. Under the weight of his piercing stare, Jing Yuan averted her eyes before looking back at him. Softly, she whispered, "Brother."

Her voice was like jade beads falling into a porcelain bowl.

Brother.

Fang Xianye seemed to see the little girl from many, many years ago.

She had always loved pretty things since childhood, her hair tied into little buns, bells jingling from her clothes. The moment she spotted him from afar, she would run toward him with arms outstretched, the crisp sound of bells trailing behind her, and call out brightly—Brother! Carry me!

—Brother, you’re amazing! You write the best essays in the world. You’ll definitely become the top scholar one day!

That little girl had sat on his lap as he braided her hair, and she played with folded paper while declaring—When Jing Yuan grows up, she’ll marry Brother!

Years later, when he first arrived in the Southern Capital and stayed at Jin’an Temple, he once heard a girl calling for her mother. Turning, he saw the grown-up Duan Jingyuan. She didn’t recognize him, only smiling as she lifted her skirts and ran up the wide, moss-covered stone steps, brushing past him. Her eyes sparkled with joy, just as they had in childhood, as she dashed into the radiant spring sunlight.

He stood there watching her for a long time, even after her figure had completely disappeared.

She was always talking to Duan Xu about her "brother" from Dài Province. She was probably the only person in this world who still remembered him.

Except she hadn’t recognized him. He had thought he would never hear her call him "brother" again in this lifetime.

Jing Yuan’s eyes widened. She tugged at Fang Xianye’s sleeve, panicked. "You... why are you about to cry?"Fang Xianye smiled faintly, lowering his gaze as he said, "I suddenly miss my younger sister very much. You resemble her."

Duan Jingyuan nodded hesitantly, carefully observing Fang Xianye's expression. To her surprise, he reached out with reddened eyes and gently grasped her hand, saying, "Jing Yuan, may you find a good husband, have children filling your home, and live a happy life."

His palm was so warm that she momentarily forgot to pull away.

Only much later, when recalling Fang Xianye from this day, did she realize he had been bidding her farewell. Regrettably, she hadn't understood the meaning behind his words at the time.

Her realizations always came too late.

As night deepened, Jing Yan was greatly surprised by Fang Xianye's unexpected visit, as they weren't particularly close. Leading him to the study and dismissing the servants, Jing Yan asked, "What brings Minister Fang here?"

Seated across the pearwood table from him, Fang Xianye raised his eyes to meet Jing Yan's gaze. "I heard you hold Marshal Duan in high esteem."

Jing Yan looked startled. "Where did you hear that?"

"Duan Shunxi," Fang Xianye replied after a brief pause. "We were close friends. The horse administration corruption case years ago—we exposed it together. Thank you for never exposing his falsified accounts."

Jing Yan's teacup froze mid-air, forgotten between lifting and setting down.

Fang Xianye seemed to relax slightly, speaking almost playfully, "I never thought my first confession of this would be to you, Minister Jing. I came to entrust you with something important."

"And what I tell you tonight will be my last words."

At dawn's first light the next day, Fang Xianye gazed long at the rising sun before straightening his official robes and adjusting his hat to enter the grand hall. As usual, he blended into the crowd of ministers. After some trivial court discussions, the young Emperor produced a recently received Imperial Decree bearing his personal endorsement, passing it among the officials.

When its contents became known, all eyes turned to Fang Xianye, sending shockwaves through the assembly. Yet he stood motionless, his ceremonial tablet held steady.

"The late Emperor's decree states: 'Fang Xianye rendered meritorious service in protecting the throne, hereby appointed Vice Military Commissioner and Participating in Governance. As for Duan Shunxi, failing to rescue the throne in time reveals treacherous intent—he must be executed,'" the Emperor recited slowly with apparent reluctance. "Marshal Duan is a pillar of the state with glorious military achievements. We've always valued him highly. Now that he's recuperating, We are loath to execute a loyal servant. Yet how can We disregard Our father's final wishes when his remains are scarcely cold?"

Fang Xianye remained silent as courtiers attuned to the Emperor's inclinations spoke up: "Your Majesty's mercy does you honor, but the late Emperor's wisdom is evident. When the Southern Capital was in chaos for over two months, General Duan at the front surely knew yet didn't mobilize troops to protect the throne—clear proof of disloyalty. Not eliminating him now would be nurturing a tiger to invite calamity!"

The court erupted in debate. Though some spoke in Duan Xu's defense, the discussion steadily shifted toward the Emperor's desired conclusion.

When the circulating decree reached Fang Xianye amidst the clamor, he smiled bitterly. The ruler's naked suspicion and cruelty always came wrapped in sentimental theatrics—the simple truth being the Emperor feared Duan Xu and thus sought his death.However, the Emperor also sought legitimacy. Without proper justification, the executioner's blade would remain suspended in the air a while longer. If things escalated too far and the farce became too absurd, cleaning up the aftermath would take time, delaying the blade's fall even more.

But it would be enough for Duan Xu to escape.

Fang Xianye's grip on the Imperial Decree tightened, his knuckles whitening from the force. Suddenly, he stepped forward, knelt in the center of the hall, and declared loudly, "Your Majesty, this subject Fang Xianye dares to confess a crime and begs for punishment. This decree... is a forgery by my hand."

The court erupted in uproar. Lin Jun and the Emperor were stunned, their expressions darkening. The Emperor's gaze swept over the assembled officials as he began, "Minister Fang—"

But Fang Xianye gave him no chance to speak. Prostrating himself, he cried out, "This subject has long-held grievances with Duan Shunxi—we are sworn enemies. At Jin'an Temple, fearing future instability might endanger my life, and resentful that Duan Shunxi would be richly rewarded for his military achievements upon his return, I forged the late Emperor's handwriting and stole the imperial seal to produce this decree."

"Yet ever since the late Emperor's ascension to heaven, he has haunted my dreams, rebuking me for my disloyalty and treachery—for scheming against a loyal subject for personal gain. He declared that anyone who dares frame a loyal general like Marshal Duan shall be ruined and die wretchedly. Tormented day and night, I could not bring myself to deceive Your Majesty with this false decree."

Fang Xianye's voice echoed through the hall. The Emperor and Lin Jun, unprepared for this turn, turned livid. Before they could react, Fang Xianye pointed at Lin Jun and accused, "Days ago, Minister Lin discovered my forgery and coerced me into presenting it to Your Majesty for his own advancement. I had no choice but to comply. But standing here now, with the late Emperor's furious condemnations ringing in my ears—his spirit surely lingers in this hall—I can no longer bear this guilt. I must speak the truth!"

Lin Jun's face flushed crimson with rage. "Lies! Absolute lies!" he shouted, pointing at Fang Xianye. "Have you lost your mind?"

Fang Xianye suddenly rose to his feet, his eyes red-rimmed. "This subject has committed treason, conspired against loyalty, and deserves no pardon. With the late Emperor's spirit bearing witness, I am ashamed beyond measure. Death is my only atonement!"

Before his words faded, he lunged toward the nearest pillar with unexpected speed. His crimson sleeves fluttered like a vermilion bird taking flight before he collided with the thick, red-lacquered column.

A sharp crack. Blood sprayed. The hall fell silent.

His body crumpled to the ground, blood spreading rapidly beneath him, staining the Imperial Decree in his hand and blurring its words.

From a distance, Jing Yan watched, gripping his ceremonial tablet tightly before turning away in anguish.

—I must cement this decree as a forgery and cast all blame outward. But there are too many flaws—it won't withstand scrutiny.

—Since I've confessed to the forgery, death is my only path. But if I die here in the throne room, with no living witness, there will be no flaws left to expose.

—After my death, Minister Jing will take over the case. With my life, I beg him: do not reopen it.

Blood streaked Fang Xianye's face. His eyes remained open as the light slowly faded from them. At last, a faint, triumphant smile touched his lips—so slight it vanished with his last warmth into silence. A lantern visible only to ghosts rose slowly from his body, ascending into the endless azure sky.

?

The top scholar of the Tianyuan Ninth Year, elegant and refined, master of exquisite prose, died striking a pillar in the throne room.He lived a lonely life, orphaned at a young age, with only one confidant and a girl he had loved for years but never let her know.

Fang Xianye, Xianye.

The pioneer, who ultimately fell dead in the wilderness.