The Wutong Waterside Pavilion was hastily cleaned up before nightfall, welcoming a new master it had never anticipated.
Because the preparations were rushed, only the bedding and seat cushions were replaced; the rest of the furnishings and decorations remained as they originally were.
Holding a bundle of Yu Wang’s clothes gathered from the wardrobe, Chu Yuan bowed slightly to the short-haired man who had just entered. “Your Majesty will have to endure this for one night. Tomorrow, this subject will bring people to clean thoroughly and replace all the interior and exterior furnishings with those Your Majesty is accustomed to.”
Emperor Jinglong lightly tapped a foreign glass sand timer on the table with his fingertip and shook his head.
Observing his expression, Chu Yuan understood that no replacement was needed, and said, “Then Your Majesty should rest well. This subject will take his leave.”
As he passed by, Emperor Jinglong suddenly reached out and drew a light blue long robe from the bundle in his arms.
Yu Wang, retaining habits from the military, disliked wearing light-colored clothing, finding it easily soiled. He usually wore dark black or deep purple, the brightest being sapphire blue. But this robe, pale to the point of almost sky-blue, and in the scholar’s lan-style cut commonly worn by literati, did not match Yu Wang’s style at all.
His fourth brother valued the secrecy of this pavilion so highly, yet had he also brought those fleeting “confidants” here? Emperor Jinglong showed a mocking look and tossed the robe back to Chu Yuan, only then noticing that the garment was torn completely from the back collar downward, the rip extending below the waist, with all the ties at the front ripped off. It showed how fierce the force had been. There were also faint dark-brown stains of old blood on the fabric, making one suspect the robe had not been removed, but violently torn off.
Emperor Jinglong suddenly thought of something and froze in place.
Chu Yuan hastily gathered the robe into his arms and withdrew from the inner chamber.
Behind him, Emperor Jinglong opened his mouth abruptly, as if to call “Wait,” but no sound came out.
Chu Yuan’s figure quickly disappeared beyond the door. Emperor Jinglong frowned deeply, his hand gripping the edge of the table tightening into a fist.
Chen Shiyu knocked on the inner chamber door and entered holding a steaming bowl of medicinal decoction. After bowing, he said, “Your Majesty, it is time to take your medicine.”
Emperor Jinglong slowly loosened his hand, his expression already restored to normal. He took the bowl and drank it in one gulp, then set it down, picked up a bamboo pen, dipped it in ink, and quickly wrote a line on paper: “I have taken the medicine for many days, when will it take effect?”
Chen Shiyu leaned in to read and stroked his beard with a sigh. “This old man has examined several times, there are indeed no lesions in Your Majesty’s throat and tongue. If it were a sequela of the cranial surgery, these medicines to unblock the meridians should have some effect. Why Your Majesty still cannot produce sound, this old man truly cannot understand.”
Emperor Jinglong pondered for a moment, then wrote again: “A physician is not a god. It is enough that you do your best.”
Chen Shiyu felt both moved and admiring, terminal illness, cranial surgery, feigned death, coma, loss of voice… to endure such a chain of events and still remain calm, even able to consider others, none but Emperor Jinglong could do so. The strength of mind and firmness of will of the emperor before him were unmatched in the world.
He cupped his hands and bowed deeply. “This old man will exhaust all his life’s learning to restore Your Majesty’s health!”
Emperor Jinglong nodded slightly and wrote a third line: “Have Chu Yuan burn that light-blue robe from earlier.”
Chen Shiyu, not understanding why, accepted the order and left with the empty bowl.
Before writing the character “burn,” the brush tip had paused slightly in hesitation, the ink spreading a little, Emperor Jinglong looked at the writing and fell into a brief daze.
That had been a robe he once wore; bringing it to his nose, one could still catch a faint, long-remembered fragrance. Perhaps the blood on it was his, if held in the hand deep into the night, could that person’s spirit enter one’s dreams…
But this robe could not be kept.
To the perpetrator, it might be a prized trophy and keepsake, but to the victim, it was a mark of humiliation. If it truly was Qinghe’s old clothing, he would surely wish it destroyed, so no one could glimpse that unbearable past.
So even if it meant losing something to which he could attach his feelings, he must still do this.
Emperor Jinglong set down the brush, held the paper with the inked words to the candle flame and burned it, silently calling: Qinghe.
A knock suddenly sounded. Chu Yuan’s voice came from outside: “This subject deserves death for disturbing Your Majesty’s rest, but Your Majesty once gave an oral order, if it concerns urgent matters regarding Lord Su, it must be reported immediately.”
Emperor Jinglong went over and opened the door. Chu Yuan leaned close to his ear and spoke in a low voice. At the end, he added, “The Tengxiang Guard has searched the capital all day and is still questioning the gate guards. It is said that His Highness lost his temper in the palace and frightened everyone, does Your Majesty wish to…”
Emperor Jinglong raised a hand to stop him. After closing his eyes and thinking for a moment, his unsettled breath gradually calmed. He went to the table, took up the brush, and wrote: “With the current turbulent situation, it is good for Su Yan to avoid it for a time.”
Chu Yuan said, “But His Young Highness is at the very center of this storm, does Your Majesty not worry?”
“As a ruler, he is destined to face the storm. He cannot avoid it; he can only meet it head-on.”
“Will Your Majesty truly not step in to help His Young Highness? He is, after all, still young and has only recently ascended the throne…”
Emperor Jinglong turned his face to look at Chu Yuan. His gaze was as calm as the sea, yet upon that sea faintly flickered a glimmer of expectation.
***
Dongchang Prefecture, Shandong.
“…Is the information accurate?”
“Absolutely true! The one on the throne said it himself, that the greatest beneficiaries of the demon-book case are the various princes. He also said that rather than waiting for those disloyal princes to rise in rebellion, it would be better to strike first.” The Chief Secretary urged anxiously, “Wangye, we must think of a countermeasure!”
Gu Wang’s face turned pale with alarm. “A countermeasure… what countermeasure could this prince possibly have?”
Xiangyang Prefecture, Huguang.
Liao Wang flew into a rage, slamming the table as he stood. “‘Raising troops in rebellion’? With what troops? If I still had the soldiers of Guangning Guard in Liaodong from back then, I would have already smashed through the gates of the capital and dragged that brat Zhu Helin off the dragon throne! Would I let him sit over my head and…”
“Mind your words! Mind your words, Your Highness!” The commander of the prince’s guards wished he could cover his mouth. “Those are only rumors, they may not be true!”
Liao Wang shouted angrily, “Whether it’s true or not, does it matter? Things have already come to this! Back then his father moved my fief and stripped my troops; now as soon as he takes the throne, he wants to give me a show of strength. Will he still leave me a way to live? Fine, if he wants to force me to rebel, then I’ll rebel and show him!”
Hanzhong Prefecture, Shaanxi.
Wei Wang sat cross-legged on an incense couch, one arm bare, wearing a bright red lama robe, chanting scriptures. Yet his long, glossy hair was loose, making him seem far from pure of the six senses.
Wei Wang Shizi, who had come to report, spoke indignantly for a long time, yet he showed no reaction at all, as if an old monk in meditation.
“Wangye is meditating. Shizi, please go back and rest first. We’ll talk about this later, later.”
After finally persuading the shizi to leave, the trusted advisor helped smooth things over. Wei Wang lifted his eyelids and snorted softly. “This child is still so unable to keep his composure.”
The advisor said, “It’s not surprising the shizi is nervous. From the rumors coming out of the capital, the new emperor fears his own legitimacy is unstable and that he cannot firmly sit the throne, so he wants to strike first and eliminate threats. Wangye, we cannot sit and wait for death.”
Wei Wang murmured a line of scripture no one could understand and asked, “Where is the envoy sent by the cult leader?”
“In the east wing. Without a definite answer from Wangye, he does not dare to leave.”
“Go send him away and have him pass a message to Mr. He, since we share a common enemy, then we are friends. Ask Mr. He to spare some time to come to the residence for a meeting.”
Kaifeng Prefecture, Henan.
Ning Wang coughed as he said to his personal maid, “Help me change. I will personally go to receive him.”
The maid urged, “The wind is strong today. Wangye’s illness cannot bear the wind. It would be better to have the servants invite that young gentleman in and speak with him in the inner chamber.”
“That is no ordinary young gentleman, it is my own nephew!” Ning Wang spoke too urgently and covered his mouth with a handkerchief as he coughed violently, soon staining the cloth with faint traces of blood.
The maids could not bear to see him strain himself while ill, so, relying on their master’s gentle temperament, they worked together to press him back onto the couch and even removed his shoes.
Unable to resist them, Ning Wang leaned against soft cushions and had the chief steward personally go to the gate to receive the nephew he had never met.
When Su Xiaojing entered, he saw Ning Wang on the couch at a glance. He wore an elegant moon-white robe, not very old, refined and gentle, just as one would imagine a cultivated gentleman. Only his complexion was poor, his cheeks overly pale, making the tiny mole beneath his right eye seem to have lost its color.
He stared blankly at Ning Wang, his eyes moist, and performed a great salute. “Zhu Xian pays respects to Ning Wang. May Your Highness be well.”
“Is he my elder brother’s posthumous son? Come here quickly…” Ning Wang beckoned, coughed a few times, then changed his words. “No, better not come close. I have tuberculosis; it is easily contagious. Stand where you are and let me have a good look.”
He looked him over with undisguised excitement, full of relief. “He truly is my elder brother’s bloodline! Poor child, you have suffered.”
With a heart full of grievance, Su Xiaojing choked back tears. “Uncle…”
Ning Wang said tearfully, “Heaven has shown mercy, leaving one lone seed of the Xin Wang line, so that my elder brother is not without descendants… Xian’er, from now on, you are not only my nephew, but also my son. If you cannot be Xin Wang Shizi, then come be Ning Wang Shizi instead!”
After kowtowing to show his gratitude, Su Xiaojing wiped his tears and said, “But nephew did not come this time to become the shizi.”
Ning Wang was startled. “Then why have you come…”
Su Xiaojing said loudly, “To prevent Uncle from repeating Royal Father’s fate!”
Ning Wang’s expression changed slightly. Lowering his eyes, he said, “You need not say more.”
Su Xiaojing pressed, “Uncle already knows, does he not? Then what does Uncle think?”
Ning Wang closed his eyes, his dark lashes casting shadows over the mole beneath them, and sighed. “I am already a candle in the wind, and I have no heirs. What is there to worry about? If the heavens change, I will simply do my utmost to preserve your line.”
Su Xiaojing felt somewhat moved, yet also somewhat disappointed and disdainful. Bowing his head, he cupped his hands. “Then nephew will rely entirely on Uncle.”
***
Northern Steppe, Golden Royal Court.
At the end of May, the summer grass on the steppe was lush and thick, endless green meeting the sky, while cattle and sheep scattered across it drifted like clouds.
In half a month would be the Heaven Worship Ceremony. The entire Oirat people were especially busy, all preparing for the grand event.
Among the Northern Steppe tribes, from the large Tatars to the smaller ones such as Wangliu and Woye and more than a dozen others, all had now been brought under the command of the Sacred Khan, Aletan, and their leaders were appointed by him. At the June ceremony, these tribal leaders would certainly come with large amounts of tribute.
In fact, many leaders had already arrived near the royal court ahead of time to show their importance and loyalty, setting up tents and waiting.
At the same time, rumors flowed like the wind across the steppe among the tribes: the Sacred Khan intended to found a state, and thus would ask Heaven’s will at the ceremony and be crowned “Heavenly Sacred Khan.”
Aletan did not stop such talk from spreading.
Because of the heat, he had casually coiled his long, thick braid atop his head, barefoot, sitting on the round colorful carpet in the center of the royal tent, lazily studying a border map, a thought flashing through his mind: why had the Ming envoy group not yet arrived? According to the departure time stated in the diplomatic letter, they should have arrived in these past few days.
“Aletan!” a young voice called from outside the tent.
“Come in,” Aletan said.
Seventeen-year-old Wodan lifted the tent flap and strode in, looking toward their leading goose with undisguised fervor and admiration in his eyes.
His father, Shalidan, had died on the ice field at the foot of Mount Wulan while taking the poisoned Aletan to seek the sacred tree. Because of this, Aletan could tolerate any behavior from him except rebellion, including calling him by name.
Striking his chest with his fist in salute, Wodan sat cross-legged before Aletan and said with a smile, “Just now I was leading a patrol and saw the Ming envoy convoy from afar. Remembering what you had instructed, I came at once to report.”
Aletan reached out and patted the side of his neck. “Well done.”
Wodan asked, “You seem to be looking forward to it, why?”
Aletan rolled up the map, a faint smile curling at the corners of his lips. “Because the person I’ve been searching for all this time will arrive with the delegation.”
His trusted followers all knew that the Sacred Khan was searching for a man from the Central Plains. Though they knew neither the man’s name, appearance, nor identity, they knew he had to be found.
Wodan asked eagerly, “And after you find him, Aletan? Will you kill him as a sacrifice to Heaven, or keep him in the tribe as a slave?”
Aletan looked somewhat surprised. “Why would you assume I want to kill or enslave him?”
Wodan replied, “Haven’t we become enemies of Ming now? He’s from an enemy nation. And he’s not a woman, so he can’t bear children. What use is he?”
Aletan laughed. “Wodan, if we wish to build an empire as powerful as Great Ming, or even more powerful, we cannot think that way. We need to absorb the cultures of other nations to strengthen ourselves. At times like this, talented people are more precious than gold.”
Wodan did not understand, nor did he want to. In any case, whatever the Sacred Khan said was correct. To him, it was Heaven itself speaking through the mouth of the Son of the Sacred Tree.
Changing his approach, he asked, “How do you plan to keep him here? What if he refuses?”
Aletan answered, “Then I’ll find a way to make him willing.”
Wodan jumped to his feet and slapped the dust from his backside. “This rug is too hot. I’m going back out on patrol. What about you?”
Aletan thought for a moment and said, “I think I should bathe in the river first.”
The Ming delegation arrived at the Golden Court at dusk.
Because the border situation between the two nations remained unstable, the atmosphere of the reception was somewhat delicate.
Excluding the escort guards, the delegation consisted of nine people. Its leader was a fourth-rank Court of State Ceremonial Affairs official surnamed Zheng. He was fluent in the Northern Steppe language, knew how to read the room, and thoroughly understood that even a powerful dragon could not suppress the local snake. His diplomatic pleasantries were delivered with dazzling eloquence.
After Zheng finished paying his respects, Aletan asked directly: “Which one is the person who meets the requirements?”
Caught off guard, Minister Zheng remembered that Oirat had requested in its diplomatic letter that Ming send an official to attend the ceremony, specifically one who had served at Qingshui Camp two years ago, had been involved in horse trading, and was a young official around twenty years of age.
An arrangement had already been made for that.
He cupped his hands and replied: “Reporting to the Sacred Khan, there is indeed an official who meets those conditions. It is the deputy envoy, Xiao Shou.”
What he dared not mention was that Xiao Shou had only been appointed deputy envoy at the last minute.
The man was merely a Vice Administrator of the Shaanxi Regional Imperial Stud Office. Back then, he had been responsible for requisitioning horses at Qingshui Camp. Though only a minor official of little importance, he was young, just twenty-two years old, and thus the closest match to the specified requirements.
“Which one is he?”
“He is not here at the moment. Deputy Envoy Xiao is feeling somewhat unwell. Earlier, your country’s guards arranged a tent for him to rest in.”
Aletan absentmindedly concluded the meeting and instructed the guards to arrange accommodations for the delegation.
After the long journey, every member of the delegation was utterly exhausted. The maidservants therefore delivered dinner and daily necessities directly to their tents.
While serving his master’s meal, Minister Zheng’s personal attendant chattered away:
“This servant was worried that Sacred Khan Aletan might be some kind of three-headed, six-armed monster! But after seeing him today, he’s actually not so bad. His dark skin and golden eyes are a little unsettling, and he’s frighteningly tall, but his attitude seemed quite amiable.”
“You little fool, what do you know?” Minister Zheng scolded lightly. “A tiger resting after a full meal also appears amiable. Other beasts may groom its fur, and it might even yawn lazily. It’s only when the tiger grows hungry and wants to eat people that its true nature reveals itself. As for that Aletan, his eyes are the eyes of a tiger.”
The attendant shivered. “Then this servant will pray to every god and Buddha that I never approach him when he’s hungry.”
Minister Zheng’s irritation turned to amusement. “Praying to gods is less useful than praying for your master to protect you. Go on, wash yourself clean and lie on the bed. I’ve eaten too much mutton tonight.”
The attendant regarded sleeping with his master as part of his duties and went off cheerfully.
“…This is the one?”
“Yes, this is the tent.”
Aletan had changed into a brand-new white silk robe. His long hair hung loose, newly braided and adorned with freshly crafted gold rings and strings of green jade beads. Standing outside the tent, his shadow stretched by the fire basins on either side into something resembling a giant beast. Yet his expression showed a trace of hesitation.
Wodan laughed at him. “Are you nervous? Aletan, who cuts down enemies on the battlefield like mowing grass, is actually nervous?!”
Aletan shot him a glare with his molten-gold eyes and muttered, “Give me the alcohol.”
Wodan handed over a leather wineskin.
Aletan drained the strong mare’s milk liquor inside, exhaled, and said, “The clothes. Put them on him.”
Two maidservants carrying neatly folded garments entered the tent.
Inside, Xiao Shou was pacing restlessly. He truly was suffering from the unfamiliar climate and environment. Feeling ill, he could not sleep at all in this barbarian nest. As he prayed inwardly that nothing would go wrong, he kept nervously surveying his surroundings, jumping at every little sound.
In the midst of his anxiety, two broad-shouldered barbarian women suddenly entered. After rattling off a few incomprehensible words, they stepped forward and began stripping off his official robes.
“What are you doing? Let go of me, ” Xiao Shou cried out and struggled in terror, but he could not escape. He was practically pinned down and forcibly changed into a blue scholar’s robe commonly worn by men of learning in the Central Plains. His topknot was undone, his long hair left flowing over his shoulders and back, with only the locks at his temples twisted behind his head and tied with a ribbon matching the color of his robe.
After changing his clothes, the barbarian women laughed and exchanged a few more words. Then they gathered up his official robes and hat and simply left with them.
Looking down at the long robe he now wore, Xiao Shou thought it looked quite elegant.
But it wasn’t sleepwear.
Why would they make him change into this right before bed?
While puzzling over the matter, the tent flap was lifted once more.
A Northern Steppe man, so powerfully built he scarcely seemed human, strode directly toward him.
White hair. Dark skin. Golden eyes.
At the very first glance, Xiao Shou was so frightened that his soul nearly left his body. He stumbled backward again and again. “A m-monster! M-monster!”
Aletan frowned and carefully examined the young Ming man before him in the candlelight.
Very young. Tall and slender. His features were rather handsome as well. Unfortunately, his complexion was sallow from poor health, made even darker by the blue robe he wore. What displeased Aletan most was the expression on his face, as if he had seen a ghost. This was the figure that had lingered endlessly in his dreams and fleeting memories? This was the person he had been searching for?
“What is your name?” Aletan asked as gently as he could.
Hearing that the man spoke the language of Ming, Xiao Shou’s terror eased slightly. Stammering, he said, “Xi-Xiao…”
“Very well, Xiao Xiao. There’s no need to be afraid. I’ve come into your tent only to verify something.”
“V-verify what?”
Aletan reached up and untied his belt. Then he pulled open the front of his robe, revealing a pair of bare, powerfully built arms. His dark skin gleamed like satin from the sacred oil that had been applied to it. A massive blood-red tree-shaped tattoo sprawled aggressively across his sharply defined torso and abdomen. A gold necklace and nipple rings caught the candlelight, scattering star-like glints.
Xiao Shou nearly fainted on the spot.
Back when he had been requisitioning horses in Lingzhou, he had never liked dealing with Northern Steppe merchants. They always seemed like barbarians who would start shouting and drawing knives at the slightest disagreement.
Then, for reasons he still did not understand, he had received an imperial order and been thrust into the position of deputy envoy. Along the journey to Oirat, he had heard countless stories about the local men being as savage as beasts and the women having no sense of propriety.
Now this monster-like Northern Steppe man was stripping off his clothes the moment they met.
Could it be that he intended to violate him first, then kill him, drink his blood, and eat his flesh?
Suppressing his impatience, Aletan said to the trembling man from his dreams, whose legs were shaking so badly he could barely stand: “Touch the Sacred Tree on my body.”
How could Xiao Shou dare? Yet he feared that disobeying would lead to an even worse fate. Left with no choice, he slowly extended a trembling hand toward the terrifying tattoo on the man’s chest.
Just as his quivering fingertips were about to touch the skin, Aletan could no longer endure the intense revulsion and rejection surging within him. He abruptly knocked the young Ming man’s hand aside.
Smack!
The blow itself was not particularly painful. But it was the final straw. Xiao Shou’s eyes rolled back, and he fainted completely.
Looking at the scholar in blue robes collapsed on the ground, fury swept through Aletan’s entire body.
This fury came not only from the anger of being deceived, but also from the immense disappointment that followed years of expectation, and from his unwillingness to accept the end of his own life.
“You dare deceive me and send such a pathetic counterfeit to mock me!” Aletan let out a low roar like a lion that had lost its mate. “Little Emperor of Ming, you will pay a terrible price for this!”
He rubbed hard at the dark-green ribbon wound around his left arm. It felt as though the ribbon were constricting his heart, squeezing it so tightly that it hurt and suffocated him, threatening to tear him apart.
“Who exactly is that person…? When my cavalry tramples the frontier flat, when my army marches south and batters open the gates of the Ming capital, I will find the answer.”
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