Grand Tutor Zhang was nowhere to be seen outside the Imperial Prison; only the carriage that had brought Lu Lingcong to the palace and Yi Yun, who had followed all the way from the east of the city, remained.
When she saw her two closest masters appear within the gates, she trotted excitedly, only to be caught off guard when Lu Lingcong suddenly let go, leaving Xie Jing to collapse down the steps without support. Yi Yun immediately let out a snort while circling between the two in shock and suspicion.
The Yulin Guards merely gripped their weapons on either side with their eyes fixed straight ahead as if Xie Jing did not exist. Lu Lingcong did not spare him another glance either before boarding the carriage and departing immediately.
Xie Jing lay motionless, prone on the soaked ground. He had slept for barely an hour the previous night, followed by overwhelming grief, agony, and the finality of life and death; both his body and soul were exhausted beyond measure.
Yi Yun approached and lowered her head before tucking Xie Jing’s head beneath her neck as if shielding him from the rain.
“One last trouble for you, take me into the palace,” Xie Jing said hoarsely after an unknown amount of time. “Then you go back to the Prince’s Mansion, eat your fill, and have a good sleep.”
Yi Yun understood only half of it. Once Xie Jing settled on her back, she bolted, carrying him all the way to Taichu Palace. The guards outside the palace gates blocked him, but Xie Jing merely said calmly, “His Majesty has pardoned my crimes. Are you all not aware? Even if I am no longer Princess Consort Zhao, I still hold a position in the Department of State Affair and remain a court official. Do you truly intend to bar my way?”
The guards had no choice but to follow the protocol for court officials entering the forbidden grounds by searching his body before allowing him through. Xie Jing’s steps were unsteady like a wandering soul with nowhere to belong. He followed the palace path to the Gongche Gate, looked up at the plaque with its gold-lacquered seal script, and then knelt straight down, bowing his head until it struck the ground.
When Lu Lingcong returned to the Prince’s Mansion, news of the upheaval at Wuyi Lane had already spread across both banks of the Qinhuai River. The residence, which was normally alive with ceaseless laughter and lively conversation, was now reduced to an unsettling silence and heavy stillness.
Lu Shuqing was standing right under the main gate. Seeing his father return, he hurried out and threw himself in front of him. Lu Lingcong pulled the boy close and walked inside with brisk steps. “Be good; let’s talk inside.”
He turned back to instruct the servants, “Bolt the main gates. From this day forth, the Prince’s Mansion will decline all guests. No matter who comes, do not see them.”
Lu Shuqing was full of worry, and having never seen his father look so solemn, his eyes instantly reddened with fear. Seeing this below him, Lu Lingcong was struck by a surge of mixed, turbulent emotions. He bent down, gathered the boy into his arms, and pulled him tightly against his chest. “…Qing’er.”
“Where did Mother go? What happened at Grandfather’s house? Why did a fire break out in Ning’ning’s room last night?”
Lu Lingcong faced this string of questions numbly, having no idea where to begin. He had sent people to gather information on his way back only to learn that Xie Yan’s accusations had not been groundless. Madam Xie, along with the mother and son of the Yao family, had indeed died last night at Wuyi Lane, falling under the blades of the Wang family and the Yulin Guards.
Xie Jing had clearly not told his father and brother about their plan to feign a fallout. Xie Yan was straightforward and candid; it was only natural that in his emotional turbulence, he could think only of hating him. However, he could not help but wonder whether Xie Yi, with his sharp, experienced and meticulous mind, had already seen through the deception.
Lu Lingcong did not care about bearing an ill reputation with Xie Jing’s father and brother—what left him helpless was his inability to explain this to the children. How was he to tell Lu Shuqing: I have deposed my first wife and abandoned your mother; in a strict legal sense, he is no longer considered your mother at this moment?
How was he to tell Lu Shuqing: Your mother and your maternal grandfather’s family have been framed for treason and face total destruction. Your closest grandmother, maternal aunt, and cousin are already vengeful spirits in the underworld, and the one manipulating all of this is very likely the very grandfather who granted you such special favor?
How was he to explain all of the fallout and betrayal, slaughter and death to his young son, who knew nothing of the world’s ways and had been the center of everyone’s devotion?
When Lu Shuqing received no answer for a long time, he called out anxiously, “Father!”
“Qing’er,” Lu Lingcong said blankly, “what if your mother never comes back?”
Lu Shuqing visibly stiffened for a moment, then wrapped his arms tightly around his father’s neck, falling silent.
The two walked back into the main hall, where they found Lu Lingcong’s maternal uncle Wu Qin, as well as Li Qi and Xiao Yao; Uncle Zhou and Yin Chou were also keeping watch nearby. The adults had no choice but to understand the grim details of the massacre, yet they tacitly considered the innocent Lu Shuqing and did not speak of it directly.
“Where is Ningning?” Lu Lingcong asked.
“The Commandery Princess was frightened last night and was restless for half the night,” Uncle Zhou said. “She is still sleeping at the moment.”
Xiao Yao added, “Rest assured, men from the Xuanshi are guarding the back courtyard; the Prince’s Mansion is absolutely safe.”
Lu Lingcong breathed a sigh of relief and rubbed the space between his brows. “I have just returned from the Imperial Prison. Zhiwu should not be in any mortal danger, but once this case is settled, I fear it will be difficult for him to remain in the capital.”
Wu Qin offered words of comfort: “The family has estates in various counties in the suburbs of the capital. Settling the Princess Consort nearby won’t be a problem. If he stays out of the public eye for half a year or so until the storm passes, won’t it be easy to see each other often?”
Li Qi also said, “Besides, isn’t His Majesty nearly… Since the Iron Certificate has cleared the Princess Consort of guilt, the Prime Minister’s Mansion can no longer pursue the matter. Once the one in Shenlong Hall draws his last breath, who could stop us from bringing the Princess Consort back?”
Xiao Yao shook her head. “It is not that simple. His Majesty is using the Prime Minister’s Mansion to sweep away the Xie family not just because he is a dying man who doesn’t want to stain his own sleeves. His wariness of the Wang family is even greater than his wariness of the Xie family. Why would he so easily and generously hand over such a perfect opportunity for eliminating rivals and establishing sole dominance to the Prime Minister? He must have a hidden move in reserve.”
She pursed her lips while observing Lu Lingcong’s expression before intentionally glancing at Lu Shuqing. She asked tentatively, “For now, Your Highness, what is your plan?”
Li Qi reminded him at the opportune moment, “The three thousand men of the Tiger Division are already waiting outside the city.”
Upon hearing this, Wu Qin’s brows furrowed. He turned to Lu Lingcong, his words carrying a hidden meaning: “Your Highness, do not forget that the Noble Consort and the Eldest Princess are still within the palace. Once the Prime Minister’s Mansion and the Empress launch an attack together, I fear they will be the first to suffer.”
Lu Lingcong remained silent for a long while before speaking: “The Yulin Guards are currently held in the hands of the Prime Minister’s Mansion, and the Metropolitan Army is numerous, with its leaders acting independently. The various prefectures near the capital follow the Son of Heaven’s commands; if Emperor Father were to light the beacon towers, it would be impossible for them not to send reinforcements. Being surrounded and attacked from both sides, and to try and contending with the forces that can be mobilized inside and outside the capital using the current scale of the Tiger Division would be no different from striking a stone with an egg.
“There have been riots by displaced people in Huaibei for several consecutive days. Because Emperor Father is gravely ill, the Department of State Affairs has been procrastinating, failing to issue policies or send troops to quell the unrest. If we can carve out another path, first using the pretext of suppressing the rebellion to legitimately expand the Tiger Division and firmly establish its banner, then gradually resolve the issues of manpower, military funding, and grain supplies, given enough time, I am confident we can make the capital wary enough that they would not dare act recklessly.”
His tone shifted as he hesitated, “But…”
Wu Qin had considered this layer of complexity, which was why he had spoken up to offer his reminder just now long ago. Xiao Yao and Li Qi also stopped interjecting; they were both acutely aware of what the consequences of this “rational” move might be.
Lu Lingcong let out a long sigh while gazing at Lu Shuqing intently. “If it were your mother, what choice would he make?”
He looked through those eyes to see another person, asking in the depths of his heart: Zhiwu, what choice would you make?
Would you choose to lead a private army that has not yet come into its own and charge into the capital, completely cutting off all paths of retreat for your children, mother, sister, and all your relatives and associates? Would you pay a price that offers almost zero chance of success just to exchange it for the two remaining kin of your spouse’s clan? Your spouse’s path to life was bought by his father and brother at the cost of their own lives; would you take that single thread of survival and enter a reckless gamble where you lose everything by risking the chance of losing him forever for the rest of your days?
The original intention of Prince Zhao’s Mansion in raising the Tiger Division was to prevent a situation where they would have no power to strike back if disaster struck from the heavens. Yet today, the bloody reality came crashing down like a heavy blow, teaching them a cruel lesson they would regret for a lifetime—they did not have enough time, and they lacked sufficient foresight. They were foolishly loyal and kind, treating the maneuvering of imperial power as if it were mere child play!
If they had started building the Tiger Division a little earlier, if they had indulged in fewer illusions of peace and spent fewer years immersed in drunken dreams of romance and leisure, perhaps they would not be the ones caught in this dilemma today.
Lu Shuqing did not understand Lu Lingcong’s sudden question, nor could he deduce from the elders’ conversation exactly what kind of crisis the Xie Clan of Chen Commandery was facing. But he could read Lu Lingcong’s expression; his father, who had always been steady, sharp, and composed, truly could not see the path ahead right now.
He could only answer, “I don’t know, Father.”
“I do not know either. But I simply cannot bear to sit here in withered silence any longer.” Lu Lingcong gave Lu Shuqing’s back a gentle pat, and the latter obediently slid down from his lap.
“By tonight at the latest, I must find a way to enter Wuyi Lane…” He stood up, turned to the others, and forced out the final word: “…to collect the bodies.”
The winter rain was at its most bone-chilling, a torrential downpour rarely seen in Jinling for many years, which everyone regarded as an omen of calamity. Xie Jing feared the cold rains of winter even more than the sweltering heat of summer, yet the stiffness of his body could hardly compete with the chill in his heart.
He only knew that the sky grew dark and then bright, bright and then dark again. In the forbidden courts outside the Gongche Gate, shift-changing eunuchs, palace maids, and patrolling Imperial Guards marched by in formation, casting him only a single, fearful glance. Even the occasional officials summoned to the palace would keep a respectful distance, not daring to stop and say a single word to him.
During this time, he even caught sight of Lu Shuning once.
Lady Wu was carrying her out from Shenlong Hall; since the rain was heavy, they were forced to take temporary shelter under the eaves. Lu Shuning clearly recognized immediately that the person kneeling not far away was her mother. She had not seen her mother for over a day and a night, nor had she received her mother’s kisses or embraces.
But why did Mother look different from usual? Why was his smooth, snow-white forehead covered in blood and filth?
Lu Shuning wanted to look closer in her confusion while squirming restlessly in her grandmother’s arms, but Lady Wu suddenly raised her hand and gently shielded the girl’s eyes.
Thus, Xie Jing never even had the chance to meet her gaze. He caught sight of her scallion-green cloak, froze for a split second, and then lowered his head to kowtow again without changing his expression. He had completely lost all concepts of time; blood dripped down along his eyelashes and congealed, leaving a smeared trail upon the masonry before him.
It was not until the evening of the third day, when the mournful sounding of the funeral clouds struck four times, that the end of everything was finally proclaimed.
In the twelfth lunar month of the seventeenth year of the Zhenyou era, the emperor passed away due to illness. At his deathbed, only the head eunuch Zhong Zhao and Grand Tutor Zhang Yan were present.
When Grand Tutor Zhang stepped out of Shenlong Hall, he brought with him the late emperor’s testamentary edict, passing the throne to the legitimate son, Lu Lingzhang. As for the Xie Clan of Chen Commandery, who had been convicted for the crime of privately concealing the Imperial Seal—the deposed Princess Consort Zhao, Xie Jing, was granted an exemption from death by the protection of the Iron Certificate due to his merit in bearing the heir for the princ; the rest were to be sentenced according to the proximity of their lineage.
However, the main culprit Xie Yi and his immediate family were to be taken immediately to the base of Zhuque Bridge, where Prince Zhao himself would serve as the supervising official for their “summary execution.”
The hundred officials, clad in plain white mourning robes, gathered beneath the Gongche Gate. They respectfully left a hollow space in the center for the “deposed Princess Consort Zhao,” who had narrowly escaped death and now cut a wretched figure.
Zhong Zhao read the testamentary edict in a long, drawn-out drawl. Lu Lingcong, who was standing at the very front of the crowd, accepted the decree. He turned and strode toward the palace gates, passing by Xie Jing at that exact moment.
Holding the imperial decree in his left hand and pressing his right down on the hilt of his sword, he had spent only a fleeting moment at Xie Jing’s side. Yet in that instant, Xie Jing suddenly shot upright before lunging to seize the tip of the scabbard and dragging it toward himself with desperate force.
In that moment, Lu Lingcong almost thought he intended to seize the sword to commit suicide. He instinctively held the scabbard firm, refusing to let him succeed.
Xie Jing’s eyes and brows were hidden behind a mess of blood and rain. He was but a hand’s breadth away from Lu Lingcong, within arm’s reach; yet the dense curtain of rain had become a barrier more formidable than any fortress, leaving them like people separated by a vast horizon even while standing face-to-face.
“Let go,” Lu Lingcong said as his eyes fixed ahead. “Or do you intend to use this sword to seek death?”
In the next moment, he heard Xie Jing whisper, “Your Highness.”
The voice, which was mingled with the sound of the rain, nearly failed to reach Lu Lingcong’s ears. His heart suddenly spasmed as if a hand had reached into his chest and stirred it violently. Unable to control himself, he turned his face to look at Xie Jing.
That was a face he could sketch even in his dreams; he had never been able to bear seeing it touched by a speck of dust or a wisp of grime. Yet that familiarity, that cherished love, now only granted him the ability to distinguish which tracks were rainwater and which were tears.
Lu Lingcong suddenly realized he had never seen Xie Jing “cry.”
All of his haughty and elegant bearing had vanished. Xie Jing merely shook Lu Lingcong’s sword with all his might as if gripping a life-saving straw while sobbing incoherently, “I beg Your Highness, for the sake of our ten years of marriage, for the sake of the children I bore and my diligent service, save the Xie family! Save my father and brother! I am willing to be ground to dust and repay you with my death; I only beg Your Highness to spare the lives of my father and brother!”
Lu Lingcong leaned in slightly and raised his right hand to cup Xie Jing’s face.
Xie Jing looked at him through a blur of tears, murmuring, “…Zifeng, I beg of you. Zifeng Gege…”
Lu Lingcong used his thumb to wipe away the marks on his cheek with extreme care and tenderness. When he spoke, however, there was not a trace of warmth in his voice at all:
“I am heading to Zhuque Bridge now. Shall I give you a lift?”
His voice was neither high nor low, just enough to carry into the ears of the surrounding officials. Lu Lingcong watched with his own eyes as Xie Jing began to tremble violently upon hearing those words. Tears surged forth like an opening levee; it was as if a simpleton had suddenly come to understand grief, and thus, a lifetime’s worth of sorrow transformed into tears and poured out.
Lu Lingcong could hardly have imagined that an expression of being “choked with sobs” would ever appear on Xie Jing’s face. Yet at this very moment, the person was weeping so bitterly that he could not utter a single coherent sentence, until he gradually lost control and spiraled into a loud wail, was indeed and without a doubt, his wedded wife.
Lu Lingcong even caught sight of the scented locket pendant containing locks of their hair tucked within the folds of Xie Jing’s robes.
And yet, the owner of that scented locket pendant had nearly cried his heart out because of a single sentence from him while sharply accusing him of his cruelty, “Before we were wed, my father tried his utmost to stop me. That day, I insisted on having my own way, and now I have truly met my retribution!”
Xie Jing had never shrieked so heartrendingly, “Lu Zifeng, how fine you are! You are too fine indeed! Go now and slaughter every last member of my Xie family, then go home and kill Lu Shuqing and Lu Shuning as well, and then you and I can die together and be husband and wife once more on the road to the Yellow Springs!”
“Be husband and wife?” Lu Lingcong let out a cold laugh, using his scabbard to tilt up Xie Jing’s chin. “Who would want to be husband and wife with you again?”
He said no more. With a sharp pull, he retracted his sword and strode away. The civil and military officials of the entire court watched this scene in stunned silence. Over a hundred oil-paper umbrellas covered in white mourning paper were held over their heads; only these two people in the very center; one standing, one kneeling, grew further apart, sharing only the vast, desolate sky.
The execution ground was set up at Zhuque Bridge. It was the first time the common people had seen a scene where, amidst a national mourning, the killing of people preceded the funeral rites. Furthermore, seeing those who were once the most dignified elite of Jinling tied up there, the people could not help but feel a sense of shared sorrow. For a time, they gathered by the bridge in unison, and even the heavy rain could not hold them back.
The so-called “extermination of the entire clan” was, in truth, no longer an entire clan—Madam Xie, Lady Yao, and Xie Jun, along with the hundred-plus servants and laborers of the Xie residence, had already been reduced to ashes by the great fire at Wuyi Lane. Those truly escorted to the execution ground were only the father and son, Xie Yi and Xie Yan.
The supervising official, Prince Zhao, sat high upon the platform with his gaze resting thinly upon some unknown void in the air.
The murmurs of private discussion drifted from afar, enveloping one of the “protagonists” of tonight’s bloody affair—Xie Jing, as he walked step by step from the Gongche Gate to the base of Zhuque Bridge.
The onlookers moved aside to clear a path for him in unison. Xie Jing walked slowly forward, seemingly devoid of all sensation. His father and brother were disheveled and grime-streaked; Lu Lingcong showed neither joy nor anger; the executioners stood solemnly with their blades, yet none of it could stir even a ripple of movement or emotion upon his face.
He stood below the platform like a wooden puppet while meeting the familiar, composed gazes of Xie Yi and Xie Yan.
He remained unmoved.
The commoners looked askance; they wanted to see the estrangement of husband and wife or the tragic parting of father and son, not a survivor so calm he bordered on the grotesque.
They slowly backed away from Xie Jing as though fleeing from some monster. What kind of person could still remain so calm, so unmoved, so detached, when faced with his family’s downfall and the imminent deaths of his father and brother?
A guest who survives on a stolen life, a rat that trembles before death; the one who lived on was the heartless Xie Zhiwu.
The execution must not be delayed beyond sunset at the latest—though for several days now, the sun has not been seen at all. An attendant official, timing by the water clock, stepped forward and reported, “Your Highness, Shenshi[mfn]3-5pm.[/mfn] has passed. We can delay no longer.”
The bamboo tally that governed life and death was held in Lu Lingcong’s hand. He knew all too well that with this single command, everything from his past ten years would utterly collapse.
The laughter, the music of strings and songs, the wisteria, the mellow wine, the half-drawn window of the study in the afternoon; it all receded from his mind like a surging tide, eventually returning to the winter of the eleventh year of the Jianning era. Amidst a world blanketed in pure white, he bent down, scooped up a handful of snow, and flicked it toward the jade-carved child standing before him.
It had been a very, very light toss, yet its landing was heavy beyond measure, concluding in nothing but love and death; just as it was now when he relaxed his fingertips and the tally struck the ground.
Ten thousand people held their breath; the world fell into profound silence.
However, at that exact moment, a servant from the Prince’s Mansion stumbled to the front of the platform and presented a scribbled note in his uncle’s handwriting:
Xie Jun is not dead.
Lu Lingcong jolted violently before surging up from his chair. He completely forgot where he was, when it was, or that he was the focal point of countless gazes. He did not even have the time to confirm the details or the origin of this news; he simply sprinted down from the high platform, desperate to reach Xie Yi and Xie Yan before their fates were sealed, just to let them know those four words: “Xie Jun is not dead.”
But he was, in the end, one step too late.
Only one step.
In that instant, a sudden clap of thunder erupted. The blades fell amidst the roar of the bolt that seemed to split the celestial river. The cold light tore through the curtain of rain, reflecting the magnificent, final curtain call of the Zhenyou era.
Xie Jing did not even blink while standing amidst the crowd.
