The excuse Xie Jing used to send Lu Shuqing and Lu Shuning away was that his body was still weak and not fit for travel, yet his heart remained concerned with the relocation of Cui Shushi and Ah Huang’s spirit tablets back to the Cui clan; thus, he entreated them to leave the palace and offer sacrifices on his behalf.
Cui Jishi led the two siblings all the way to the ancestral hall, and said in a formal tone, “His Majesty has issued a strict decree to reinvestigate the case of the Prime Minister’s Mansion theft case in the sixteenth year of Zhenyou. The entire Cui clan of Qinghe is deeply grateful. It is only that family affairs have been in disarray recently, and we have not yet had the chance to offer our thanks. We are indebted to the concern of the master in the palace. If my elder sister and Ah Huang were aware in the netherworld, their grievances would likely now be cleared.”
Compared to the eunuchs of Shenlong Hall, he was more cautious, choosing more careful wording by ambiguously referring to Xie Jing as the “master in the palace”—a term that neither offended the emperor nor embarrassed the crown prince and princess.
After exchanging a few pleasantries and conveying the condolences of his parents, Lu Shuqing saw Cui Jishi withdraw from the hall, leaving them inside to pay their respects.
The spirit tablets of Cui Shushi and Ah Huang had been wiped spotlessly and placed on the tier below the late Grand Commandant Cui and his wife. In the future, when Cui Jishi and his brothers passed away, they would occupy a similar position; this was already the highest and most formal treatment the clan could grant members of that generation.
Having offered incense, Lu Shuqing burned the eulogy handwritten by his mother and said in a low voice, “The Cui clan of Qinghe is sensible after all. They know that without Madam Cui, they could not have achieved today’s merits; they also know that as long as they properly enshrine the tablets of Madam Cui and Ah Huang, Father and Mother will grant the Cui descendants some preferential treatment, if only out of sympathy and gratitude.”
Lu Shuning asked softly, “I remember Gege was friends with Ah Huang. What kind of person was she?”
“I don’t know how to say it… I don’t remember clearly anymore,” Lu Shuqing murmured in reply. This old friend of his had not been dazzled. Had she not received his mother’s special care, she likely would have remained obscured among the masses; like a patch of secluded bamboo in a deep forest, unknown to men, illuminated only by the bright moon.
“She once painted paper lanterns with you… likely during the Lantern Festival. You were so small then, do you still have any impression of it?”
Lu Shuning shook her head with regret. “I’ve forgotten most things that happened before we went to Yongzhou.”
Cui Shushi’s final act in life had been too shocking, occurring in broad daylight before the gates of the Court of Judicial Review; it had long since set Jinling abuzz with rumors. Lu Shuqing had learned the full story without much effort; unlike the way he’d had to exhaust every means to seek news of Ah Huang before her passing.
They could not even be considered very close. She had never replied to a single letter, and the two had never spoken a word in private. Ah Huang was not the first “departed soul” he had encountered in his life; long before her, he had already lost his maternal grandparents’ entire family and Lu Ai.
Lu Shuqing gazed at Ah Huang’s name on the spirit tablet. He could taste no distinct sorrow, only a sense of loss; a boundless, endless void.
“Let’s go,” Lu Shuning said at last. “Mother will be returning to the Prince’s Mansion soon, and I want to spend more time with him.”
The two returned to the palace only to hear a chaotic clamor of voices inside and outside the Gongche Gate. There were more Yulin Guards on night duty than usual, and from a distance, the silhouettes of many palace servants could be seen running about. Lu Shuqing drew back the carriage curtain, his brows suddenly knitting together. The northwestern sky blazed as bright as daylight; in his field of vision, there was nothing but roaring, raging fire.
A eunuch hurried forward to meet them, but before he could report, he heard Lu Shuqing demand, “Is there a fire?”
To the northwest, tucked diagonally behind Shenlong Hall but not too far from the palace gates—that was the Linhai Hall.
The eunuch nodded: “The former Empress Dowager Wang, fearing punishment for her crimes, set fire to the palace and committed suicide.”
He was well-versed in the ways of the world, naturally framing Lady Wang’s actions as “fearing punishment,” but Lu Shuqing froze, asking subconsciously, “Are you certain it was suicide?”
The eunuch hesitated for a moment as if surprised by the question, “It is absolutely true; this humble one would not dare deceive Your Highness in the slightest. The palace doors were locked from the inside. By the time the servants were startled awake and rushed over, all paths of escape had already been severed by the flames.”
Lu Shuqing let out a breath. He did not know why a flicker of doubt had crossed his mind in that instant, leading him to involuntarily wonder if his parents had ordered Lady Wang’s death under the guise of “suicide”…
“Did she hear some news? Why choose this day of all days to take her own life?”
The eunuch stepped forward two paces and whispered, “The proceedings for the Prime Minister’s Mansion case have been completed in both the Ministry of Justice and the Court of Judicial Review. The sentencing has been decided, and the petition was submitted to Shenlong Hall tonight. His Majesty has already made his judgment; it only awaits the dawn to be announced to the civil and military officials.”
Although Lady Wang had been imprisoned in the Linhai Hall during these days, Lu Lingcong had not issued an imperial decree to deliberately block information. Since the palace servants were allowed in but not out, even if Lady Wang had wanted to send word out, she would have been powerless to do so as well.
That she chose this way to end her remaining days was perhaps because she had heard of the fate awaiting Wang Chu and his sons and knowing that her maternal clan’s great edifice had collapsed, she no longer had any lingering attachments. The splendor of the Wang clan of Langya would, along with her and the Linhai Hall amidst the roaring fire, turn completely to ash.
Lu Shuqing pondered for a long while. Lu Shuning leaned forward across from him, “Now that the fire has started, were any innocent people caught in it?”
The eunuch shook his head: “Reporting to the Princess, Lady Wang likely used candlelight to ignite the doors and windows. There weren’t many palace servants to begin with, and they were all stationed in the outer hall, so they had a chance to escape. Although it fortunately did not spread to other pavilions, the Linhai Hall, I fear, is completely incinerated and ruined beyond recognition.”
“Completely incinerated…” Lu Shuning repeated. These words meant that repairing or rebuilding the Linhai Hall would consume vast amounts of time, labor, and resources. Having just ascended the throne, her father would certainly not waste the people’s wealth or initiate massive construction projects.
It was foreseeable that this palace, which symbolized the authority of the empress, would be left abandoned for a long time. Consequently, the hope of her mother moving in became even more remote and uncertain.
After stepping down from the carriage, Lu Shuning asked, “Are you going straight back to the Eastern Palace, Gege?”
Lu Shuqing thought for a moment: “I’ll go with you to Shenlong Hall. I’ll stay with Mother for a while; I also have a few words I wish to say to Father.”
As the two walked side-by-side across the vast square inside the Gongche Gate, they could see Shenlong Hall brilliantly lit. An Yulin Guard followed silently behind them and said respectfully, “The matter Your Highness entrusted to this minister has been settled.”
“Has the person been found?” Lu Shuqing asked without looking aside.
“There are many named ‘Zhang San’ within the two divisions of the Yulin Guards. However, there is only one whose age, place of origin, background, and resume match. He also produced a letter handwritten by His Majesty from those years as evidence. Furthermore, he identified the colleague who joined him in saving Young Master Xie back then. This minister took both of them to the Wu’s Mansion for the Imperial Uncle to verify their identities; it is confirmed without a doubt. This minister had planned to bring them to report this evening, but Your Highness was out, which is why it was delayed until now.”
“Since the Imperial Great Uncle has verified them, there can be no mistake. You need only report back to General Cui,” Lu Shuqing said indifferently. “Incorporate them into the Crown Prince’s personal guard; I will meet them directly at the Eastern Palace tomorrow.”
Folk rumors held that the seventh month was the “Ghost Month,” and indeed, for several days in a row, the funeral bells never ceased.
Following Cui Shushi’s slaughter of the Wang household and her death at the Court of Judicial Review, before the scent of blood had even dissipated from the air, the retrial of the sixteenth year of Zhenyou Prime Minister’s Mansion theft case was concluded. Wang Qi’s disregard for human relations; his defilement and framing of his own niece, shocked the capital, drawing the loathing of all. It was rumored that the Crown Prince personally visited the prison to give him “special care,” ordering the authorities to castrate him; Wang Qi reportedly breathed his last that very night, with his official cause of death left undisclosed. Not long after, the former Empress Dowager Wang burned herself to death. The following day, her remaining kin; Wang Chu and Wang Xi, were also executed outside the Imperial City with their heads hung upon the Xuanyang Gate for three days as a public warning. Finally, Zhang Yan, who had committed several grave crimes including treason and regicide, died in prison after a multi-day hunger strike, ultimately meeting the same end as his late wife.
Once the period of national mourning ended, the two deceased emperors were buried one after another. The Zijin Imperial Mausoleum was sealed, yet the coffin of the late Eldest Princess, Lu Lingzhen, remained at the Hanzhang Hall, her interment long delayed.
Though the new emperor did not bother with elaborate ceremonies after his ascension, he neglected neither the autumn reckoning nor the rewarding of merit.
Lu Lingcong reorganized the remnants of the Wang clan of Langya within the Imperial Guard and the capital’s garrison; killing those in high positions, transferring those in the middle, and pacifying those at the bottom. Generals such as Li Qi, Zheng Xiao, and Cui Jishi, who had performed meritorious service during the Bagua Islet Incident, were promoted and given titles. Among the Li siblings who had volunteered their services, Li Kuang took the rank of Colonel in the Southern Camp, while Li Ye shared command of the Hewei with Xie Jun to garrison the palace. Operating independently as a balance to the Imperial Guard, they answered only to the Crown Prince and the Princess.
The Xuanshi moved from the shadows into the light. As in the previous dynasty, it remained under the direct control of the emperor with Xiao Yao becoming the first leader since its establishment to be officially commissioned with a salary without needing to hide her identity. Following the covenant made between the two people years ago, Lu Lingcong pardoned the innocent members of the Xiao clan of Lanling, allowing them to return to their ancestral homes from their places of exile.
As for the Tiger Division, which had been torn asunder, it was restored to its old system of thirty thousand men. They were to accompany the imperial carriage on a personal expedition to the Northern Desert to avenge the blood feud of the Eldest Princess. The army was scheduled to set out on the eighteenth day of the eighth month; the Crown Prince would remain in the capital as regent, assisted by the newly appointed Left Prime Minister, He Gao.
On the night before his departure, Lu Lingcong finally entered Mingluan Hall and knelt behind his mother, “The situation at court is temporarily settled, and everything is on the right track. Tomorrow, I will lead the Tiger Division north. I will certainly bring Zhenzhen home.”
Lady Wu stood alone by the window. Only a few days had passed since the Mid-Autumn Festival, and the moon had not yet had time to wane much; the entire room was filled with a watery, desolate light.
The hair at her temples had turned completely white.
“The Ministry of Rites came to ask for her old clothes. They said that there was only her blood-stained armor in the coffin; the suit she had hurriedly changed into before leaving Yongzhou, without even time to wash it. They fear the baleful aura is too heavy and that she will find no rest in the springs below.”
“You need not blame them. The palace attendants said that Lingzhang gave a special order before his death that no one was allowed to mention her affairs to me; even Lady Wang was willing to show kindness by keeping me in the dark. But how can such a thing be hidden? Each time you told me, ‘It will be soon’ or ‘she is coming back,’ my heart secretly guessed the truth.”
“The trunks are filled with her clothes. Just in the past six months, I made more than ten outfits for her that she never worn—never even saw. There are so many that my eyes are blurred; I do not know which one is best to give.”
“So, I summoned the Minister of Rites. I said, at least let me have one look at her. Just one look is enough, and then I will know what she should wear.”
Lady Wu turned slightly, staring blankly at the curved spine of her eldest son: “Even if her features are indistinguishable, even if… she is incomplete, I am not afraid. I can accept it all, if only you would let me see her one last time.”
She let out a silent, bitter laugh, “But he told me there is nothing. Nothing was recovered.”
Lu Lingcong clenched his fists to control his own violent tremors as he listened to Lady Wu’s words, each like a drop of blood, “In legends and tales, Nezha could sever his bones to repay his father and slice his flesh to return it to his mother; but she is a living person in this world. She is my daughter; her body and skin came from me, a piece of flesh that fell from my own womb. How can they leave me with absolutely nothing at all?”
The hall fell into a long silence. Lu Lingcong raised his eyes to meet his mother’s gaze. The loss of beauty with the passing years was not what frightened her; what truly terrified her was that even her eyes had grown old. In them, he saw only an infinite despair he had never witnessed in those thirty-two years.
At this moment, any words were futile. He suddenly found himself able to understand where Xie Jing’s lack of will to live had come from after experiencing everything. Since Lu Lingzhen died in battle, every matter, turn of events, burden, and danger had rushed toward him in a frantic scramble. Lu Lingcong had been running himself ragged, racking his brains to cope, not daring to give himself a single moment to stop. Naturally, he had no time to consider whether he, too, was constantly projecting despair like his mother’s in his every waking moment.
Seeing his mother in this state only made his heart twist with agonizing pain; how then, when his own state was seen by Xie Jing that day, could it not have pierced Xie Jing’s heart and caused him unspeakable sorrow?
“Though she lived in the Hanzhang Hall for so many years, there were still many things of hers kept here with me as if she had never finished moving out; always leaving things behind in the Mingluan Hall. These past few days, I ordered the servants to sweep and tidy up, to organize her old belongings. Do you know what I found?”
Lady Wu held Lu Lingcong’s arm and bade him rise. A small, glittering object slid from her sleeve and into his hand, “Zifeng, do you remember this?”
Lu Lingcong looked down. For a moment, his mind wandered in dazed; he wondered how the longevity lock that never left Lu Shuqing’s neck had ended up here with his grandmother.
But the lock was not made of Hetian jade, the engraved characters were different, and there were several traces of scuffs and dents.
“This is Zhenzhen’s.” Lu Lingcong touched the patterns of the scratches with his fingertips. “She lost it more than ten years ago.”
Lady Wu sighed. “The jade longevity lock that she clamored was lost, had run away, had vanished, or had grown wings and flown away… was actually hidden in a corner of Mingluan Hall all along.”
Holding that pebble-sized piece of smooth, rounded jade, Lu Lingcong slowly made his way back to Shenlong Hall, step by step. It was the season when osmanthus was in full bloom in Jinling; beyond and within the high palace walls alike, the air was filled with a clean, sweet fragrance. However, the chill grew stronger by the day. He returned home bathed in moonlight, the ground spread with a silvery glow, as though he were truly walking through the Moon Palace itself, where sky and clouds merge into a single, seamless hue.
Lu Shuqing lived in the Eastern Palace, and Lu Shuning slept in the Mingluan Hall. Aside from the eunuchs and palace servants, there were no other living souls in Shenlong Hall. Lu Lingcong continued walking senselessly until he reached the threshold of the side hall; only then did he realize that Xie Jing had moved back to the Prince’s Mansion nearly a month ago. Even if he stood here all night, he could no longer catch Xie Jing’s occasional brief remarks as he had before.
Not a single lamp was lit inside the hall. He stood for the time it takes an incense stick to burn before his stiff body suddenly lost its strength. With his back to the wide-open bronze doors, he sat on the floor in the center of the hall.
As the night deepened, the dew grew heavier. Lu Lingcong felt the wind brushing against the roots of his hair, carrying moisture as if it had just rained. He was only wearing a single layer of clothing and could not help but shiver. The liquid falling down his cheeks was wet; like the sensation of touching jade, it was cold when it first hit, but after a while, it became scalding hot.
It is unknown how much time passed, but when the sound of familiar footsteps echoed behind him, Lu Lingcong was certain his eyes were still red.
A moderately thick cloak was draped over his shoulders. The newcomer reached for his neck to fasten it, and in the motion, a right arm slipped out from the sleeve, still bound in layers of gauze that had not yet been taken off.
Xie Jing had entered carrying a lantern, which he placed a few paces behind them, causing the two shadows; one standing, one sitting, to stretch diagonally toward the deepest reaches of the hall.
“Your Majesty was not in the main hall; the servants said you had returned some time ago, yet you were not in the sleeping quarters either.”
He moved around to face Lu Lingcong and knelt. As if deliberately avoiding his gaze, he did not look into the other party’s eyes. Instead, he reached out both hands and gently covered Lu Lingcong’s tightly clenched fists, rubbing them repeatedly to bring warmth back to the icy skin.
Lu Lingcong did not respond; he did not clasp the hands back, nor did he ask why Xie Jing had come.
Xie Jing spoke in a flat, narrating tone, whispering softly, “This minister heard that Your Majesty is going on a distant expedition again. However, this minister has already agreed with Jun’er to escort the coffins of my parents, elder brother, and sister-in-law back to Chen Commandery. We set out tomorrow at dawn, so this minister fear I will not be able to see Your Majesty off outside the city.”
“Autumn nights are damp and cold. This minister shall not delay you further, save for one superfluous word: please, Your Majesty, go and rest soon.”
“From here to the frontier, the journey is long and distant with ten thousand miles between this place and our homeland,” Xie Jing released Lu Lingcong’s hand, knelt and retreated two steps on his knees, then bowed deeply. In a posture that could not have been more humble or more utterly submissive, he performed a profound kowtow before him, saying, “May Your Majesty’s martial fortune flourish, and may victory come swiftly upon the raising of your banners.”
