“Mount Tianmen breaks where the Chu River opens; blue waters flowing east turn back here. Boundless falling leaves rustle down; the endless Yangtze rolls on.” The verses of those who came before truly possessed a magnificent sweep. Facing the vast river, the two men fell silent.
Elio’s Notes: The opening deliberately joins lines from two famous Tang poems: Li Bai’s Viewing Tianmen Mountain and Du Fu’s Ascending the Heights. The chapter title, meanwhile, comes from Liu Yong’s Yulin Ling, where heavy evening mist stretches beneath the vast Chu sky, an especially fitting image for separation.
“Big Brother, are you certain we should cross the river?” Zhao Guangyi gazed at the surging waters in the distance. He knew the man beside him still had something he could not let go of. He had traveled this entire road unwillingly.
Over the past few days, his body had reached the Yangtze, but his heart remained stranded at Phoenix Terrace, unable to find any resolution.
Zhao Kuangyin had drunk quite a lot along the journey, yet refused to speak. He showed no more violent emotion, but Zhao Guangyi knew that the quieter he became, the less capable he was of letting go.
“Cross.”
On the swaying ferry, Zhao Kuangyin still carried his sword, his presence cold and formidable. Watching the scenery of Jiangnan gradually recede, he silently spoke words that could never again be sent to their intended recipient.
There are things you never knew. The day we first met, you should never have saved me. Perhaps if I had died during that pursuit, everything afterward would have been different.
Those black-clad assassins that night were not sent by the Crown Prince. I had been heading from the Crown Prince’s residence toward that alley when Han Xizai’s men intercepted me halfway. I do not know what old grievance existed between Han Xizai and the Crown Prince, but you always believed I was being silenced by the Crown Prince because I had killed the Prince of Qi. If you had known earlier that I intended to kill you, would you still have saved me beneath that tree?
Thinking this, Zhao Kuangyin shook his head with a bitter smile. Then you would not have been yourself, Li Congjia.
Perhaps even if you knew, you still would have saved me. Whether the person you saved was Zhao Kuangyin or anyone else, you are incapable of watching someone die before your eyes. Yet at Phoenix Terrace, in the end, you still refused to see me.
Forget it. Zhao Kuangyin is not someone who gives up so easily. Since that is how it is, you forced me into this, Li Congjia.
I will gamble with another lifetime. You and the realm beneath Heaven, I want them both.
Wind and waves swept across the river, tossing his hair wildly. Standing there with such formidable bearing, how many men in this world would truly dare reach toward the heavens and lay claim to the realm?
The boat followed the river onward, leaving behind that river of spring water and the dreamlike Southern realm.
Within the imperial palace of Jinling, the entire court stood silent.
The circumstances of Crown Prince Li Hongji’s death were suspicious. After learning of it, the Sovereign kept his thoughts to himself. Amid his grief, however, he understood that the death of the Prince of Qi had most likely been connected to the Crown Prince. Others might not know his son’s temperament, but he knew it better than anyone.
They said the Crown Prince had died in madness. Perhaps he had committed some deed that left ghosts in his own heart, or perhaps some nightmare had taken hold of him. Who knew what else might be uncovered if the matter were investigated further? Although Li Jing had already adopted the title of Sovereign, the Yangtze still lay between them and the northern court remained far away. In private, he continued wearing the imperial robes. Many officials had not yet grown accustomed to the change in title either and continued as before behind closed doors. The dragon patterns stirred as he moved, and sighs immediately rose throughout the hall. To die so young, how lamentable, how tragic. Plenty of officials shook their heads in sorrow. Yet beneath the surface each was calculating. Two leading candidates for the succession had now died within such a short span. Whatever happened, there could be no more disturbances. Whether it was Heaven’s will or whether those old predictions concerning his appearance had truly been fulfilled, Sixth Prince Li Congjia had been born with the countenance of an emperor. It now seemed the position in the Eastern Palace could belong to no one else. All that remained was for the decree to be issued.
“How does Your Majesty intend to announce this to the outside world?” Even this form of address had not changed. It was still their own realm, after all. Publicly they might call him Sovereign for the moment, but privately no one was willing to accept it in their hearts. Han Xizai bitterly regretted failing to stop Zhao Kuangyin in time. Who could have known the man would possess enough ability to hide within the Duke of Anding’s residence? Now the Crown Prince was dead and everything was beyond recovery. Only sorrow remained.
In his heart, Han Xizai had long regarded Li Hongji almost as a son. How could an elder sending off a younger man not grieve? At this moment, among all the civil and military officials filling the court, perhaps he alone sincerely mourned him.
“Enough, enough.” The emperor rose with a sweep of his sleeve. Morning court would end here. The arrangements for the Crown Prince’s funeral could be discussed later. Li Jing himself was naturally overwhelmed. In the end, even the carved railings and painted halls of the Jinling palace had been unable to preserve the bonds of blood. They had fought and struggled against one another until someone paid with his life. Hongji, in your final moment, did you ever regret it?
Supporting himself against the curved white-jade corridor, Li Jing looked toward the pond beneath it, where lotus blossoms were at their best. In the distance, a palace maid secretly stood in a corner scattering fish food and teasing the carp. Yet Li Jing could summon no interest. What use was all this splendor? In the end, his own sons had fought endlessly among themselves. He no longer even knew whether Li Hongji deserved an elaborate funeral. A single angry remark from himself, saying he would recall the Prince of Qi, had provoked Hongji’s vicious intentions until he truly refused to spare even his own uncle. Now Hongji’s death had pushed Congjia directly into the heart of the storm. If anything went wrong now, who could know what would become of Li Congjia?
The emperor turned to an official. “Have you seen the Duke of Anding recently?”
“No. Word from his residence says he has been unwell and is temporarily unable to enter the palace to pay his respects.”
Li Jing sighed deeply. In the end, Congjia was still his child. Looking over all his sons, Li Congjia had always suited his heart best from childhood. Intelligent without flaunting it, sensitive without sinking into mediocrity, even as a boy he had possessed an unmistakable elegance of character. Added to that was the appearance said to bear Heaven’s mandate, praised throughout the entire court. Looking at matters now, perhaps only he could balance the ambitions of every faction. Li Jing could only hope that this faint blue-green shade of mist and rain might use a benevolent heart to end the succession of internal struggles.
Only someone capable of holding the whole realm within his heart could be worthy of the Mountains-and-Rivers Brocade. Li Jing smiled bitterly. He should have understood long ago. They had searched for so long that year, yet no one else could carry it. In the end, only that child could.
One lift of his head, one smile, and all was splendor.
In the distance came the laughter of palace women again. The man in imperial robes summoned officials to settle the arrangements for the Crown Prince’s funeral, then turned and headed farther inside. “Your Majesty, what do you think of my eyebrow makeup today?”
“Come, come. Let me take a look…”
It was only the ordinary scenery of everyday life. Whether one person was added or another disappeared, the days already set in motion still had to continue.
On the day Li Hongji’s funeral began, celebratory banquets, music, and dancing were forbidden throughout the city for three days.
The Duke of Anding’s residence was quiet everywhere. Only the wooden door of the Buddhist hall stood slightly ajar. Through it came faint incense smoke, candlelight, and the low voice of a woman praying before the Buddha.
Liuzhu stood outside carrying a tray of plain vegetarian food. She wanted to enter but did not dare. The person inside had gone an entire day without food or water.
The Duke of Anding had lost too much blood and still had not awakened. Although the physician had said there was no grave danger and that he only needed rest, two days had passed since the attack and he had remained lost in an indistinct sleep. Naturally, Madam was anxious. Outside the residence, meanwhile, the entire city churned with uncertainty. Crown Prince Li Hongji had suddenly gone mad and died, and no one yet knew where loyalties would settle. The Duke of Anding had simultaneously withdrawn from public view on the grounds of illness. Never mind the gossip spreading through the streets. Even the servants inside his residence were unsettled. Suddenly, everything had fallen upon Ehuang’s shoulders.
People always said the Duke of Anding and his wife were deeply devoted. Madam had been raised as the daughter of a distinguished household and naturally possessed extraordinary bearing. Yet today, only Liuzhu, who had accompanied her since childhood and followed her into marriage, truly understood. Ehuang had always been this fiercely proud. The closer she came to collapse, the less she permitted herself to lose composure. The greater the danger, the harder she gritted her teeth and refused to surrender her dignity. And now, when everyone else had lost the person they relied upon, she had to remain standing for all of them.
Whatever private wounds she carried, she still needed to ensure that he awakened safely. The only thing she could do was pray for the Buddha’s protection.
After collapsing from exhaustion that day, she had awakened again before long because she could not set her worries aside. From then on, she remained beside the Duke of Anding’s bed.
She sat blankly holding his hand and staring at his pale, unconscious face, her heart full of pain. Why must you do this, Congjia? You always care so little for yourself. You cherish everyone except yourself. The thought only made her heart ache more. He would not even take proper care of himself for her sake.
Ehuang had spent the entire day gritting her teeth and forcing herself onward. Someone had to appear before the household and steady everyone’s hearts or panic would spread. This was the bearing expected of a woman from a great family, and she understood it. It was the first time she had ever watched him sleep like this. Li Congjia ordinarily slept very little. People like him were easily exhausted in heart and mind, carrying too many things within them both by day and in dreams. Naturally they slept more lightly than ordinary people and awakened easily.
Now, however, he was extraordinarily quiet.
Like a child.
The woman in pink shifted her gaze and suddenly noticed something. His plain white inner robe had deliberately been tied loosely so as not to press against his wound. The blanket happened to pull part of it aside. Sitting at the bedside, Ehuang could clearly see his shoulder.
A patch of dark red.
What was that?
Ehuang hesitated over whether she should look more closely. “Congjia? Can you hear me?” She despised herself somewhat for even harboring such suspicions, yet she could not simply ignore what she had seen.
What was on his body?
Li Congjia remained deeply unconscious and gave no response. Ehuang slowly leaned closer. The distinct fragrance of red sandalwood washed over her. Her fingers trembled, her long nails wavering beyond her control until at last they reached his shoulder. She gently lifted one side of his collar.
Beneath his thin, prominent collarbone had been hidden several dark-red marks extending toward his shoulder.
And there, unmistakably, the flesh bore a wound.
An irregular circle that looked clearly as though it had been torn open by teeth.
Ehuang released his clothes at once, covered her mouth, and stumbled backward until she fell directly into the wooden chair across from the bed. She and Li Congjia had been husband and wife for years. However shy she might be about such things, she understood what she was seeing.
A suffocating bitterness filled her chest, desperate to burst free, yet no tears would come. Whom should she blame now? Whom could she blame? Had she always been too proud and too certain, believing that what she had chosen must therefore belong to her for life? Ehuang had always stood beside him, hand in hand, envied by everyone beneath Heaven. Never once had she imagined that this tranquil figure might someday truly drift away from her. Everything had been perfectly fine before.
Before that man appeared.
Ehuang smiled as moisture gathered in her eyes, yet the tears still refused to fall.
Was she supposed to admit now that she had lost to a man?
Outside,
Liuzhu saw that Madam, who had been keeping watch inside perfectly calmly, suddenly emerged with a strange expression, her gaze unfocused and desolate. “Madam? Has the Duke of Anding awakened?”
“Not yet. Stay here. If he wakes, come find me in the Buddhist hall. I… I’ll go there first…” Her pink skirts moved hurriedly, her steps slightly unsteady. After walking only a short distance, she suddenly remembered something and turned back. “From this moment onward, I will fast. Make the arrangements.”
“Ah… yes…” Liuzhu stared after her, baffled by the abrupt loss of composure. Looking back, she realized Madam had left in such haste that she had even forgotten to close the door.
Liuzhu went over herself and leaned inside to make certain the Duke of Anding was still well. Then she gently closed the wooden door and remained standing guard beneath the corridor.
If I encounter living beings, I will teach them all the Buddha Way.
Those without wisdom are confused and disordered, bewildered and unwilling to receive the teaching.
I know these living beings have never cultivated roots of goodness.
They cling firmly to the five desires; through deluded attachment, suffering arises.
Because of the causes and conditions of desire, they fall into the three evil paths.
Cycling through the six realms, they endure every kind of suffering and poison.
Elio’s Notes: These lines echo the Lotus Sutra, in the “Skillful Means” chapter. Ehuang’s recitation centers on attachment, desire, confusion, and suffering, directly mirroring the emotional conflict she is trying to suppress.
The woman in pink knelt before the Buddha image seeking peace for her heart. Ehuang had never before felt so disordered or so utterly unable to control herself. She needed silence. And so she remained inside the Buddhist hall for an entire day. Surrounded by candle smoke, she almost felt capable of becoming calm again. Yet she knew that the moment she walked outside, she would still be a person caught within the mortal world.
Liuzhu urged her several times to eat and drink, but she genuinely felt no hunger. Who could endure the feeling of carrying something in one’s heart that could be spoken to no one? Yet she had no choice but to endure it. Whatever happened, she could not allow another disturbance to arise during such dangerous times.
Seeing that things could not continue this way, Liuzhu feared that if the Duke of Anding did not awaken soon, Madam herself would fall ill. She called Piaopeng, and together the two went inside. After endless persuasion, they finally helped Ehuang out. Her legs were numb from kneeling, and when she suddenly saw daylight again, it seemed almost unfamiliar.
Ehuang looked at the bland vegetarian dishes and sighed inwardly. In the end she could only continue praying for the Bodhisattva’s protection. If he could wake and survive this calamity, then whatever came afterward would be acceptable.
Perhaps this was simply her accepting fate.
She ate a little, then slowly returned to Zhaohua Pavilion. The incense in the room had long burned away, leaving only cold ash. None of the warmth of their former laughter and play remained. The long gauze hanging behind the screen had been stained with blood the night before, yet somehow she had failed to notice it until now. She ought to remember to have Liuzhu order someone to replace and wash it. How had she forgotten?
At the same moment, far away upon the natural barrier of the Yangtze, a solitary boat traveled onward.
The man in plain brown clothing swept his sharp gaze across three thousand li of spring blossoms, his heart filled with attachment.
The realm beneath Heaven and you.
I want both.
Ehuang slowly lifted the gauze curtain beside the bed. Just as her hand lowered, an unexpected chill startled her into turning sharply around.
A hand had caught hers.
An increasingly thin, almost skeletal hand, still cold.
Li Congjia had awakened.
Seeing her there, he gripped her hand and tried to speak, but after so long without using his voice, his throat caught and no sound came.
Ehuang stared blankly at his pale, weakened face. Somehow, that faint, almost nonexistent tranquil smile still remained upon it.
Then she suddenly began to cry.
The tears fell one after another, and she could not stop them.
After holding everything inside for nearly three days, she finally cried.
Once it began, it became unbearable. Her spirit had been forced to its absolute limit, and now that she could finally release the burden in her heart, everything burst through the breach like floodwater breaking through a dam.
She nearly cried herself senseless.
She threw herself toward him, unable to form a complete sentence. “Li Congjia, you’re truly insane!” Ehuang had barely managed to endure until he awakened. Now every taut nerve finally loosened, and she fell against him, striking him with her fists. “Weren’t you trying to frighten me to death? Then why did you wake up at all? You lost so much blood, you might as well…”
She abruptly remembered his injuries and snatched her hands back.
The rest would not come out.
She had shouted until she had exhausted even the strength to vent her anger. In the end, she collapsed beside the bed and cried completely.
Her tears slowly soaked into the bedding, carrying all the tenderness of her heart. Li Congjia’s eyes were filled with pain as well. How could he fail to understand the fear and worry she had endured for him?
His grip upon her hand tightened. His lips moved, but his voice remained hoarse. Ehuang no longer cared about appearances. She wiped her tears with a handkerchief, stood, and brought him some tea to moisten his throat.
Only after fully awakening did Li Congjia realize how sharply the pain in his lower abdomen had intensified. His consciousness finally cleared completely. He tried to rise, but pulling against the wound made him suck in a breath. Ehuang’s tears immediately began falling again. “Don’t rush. Get up slowly.”
After drinking some tea, he could finally speak properly. “Did I sleep for a long time?”
“This is the third day.”
Li Congjia fell silent. Her makeup was so completely ruined that the Zhou family’s eldest young lady had probably never looked this disheveled in her entire life. Yet he had made her weep like rain again and again, reducing her to this state. Guilt surged inside him. He reached out and wiped the tear tracks from her face. She should have been a woman proud and composed as a phoenix, smiling while watching peonies bloom. Yet in only three days she had grown visibly thinner and haggard.
“I’m all right. Don’t cry anymore.”
“All right? If everything is all right, why did you insist on going out alone toward evening while we waited here like fools? You did come back in the end, but in the middle of the night they carried you home covered in blood with a knife still inside you. How am I supposed to pretend everything is all right? How could you bear to make me…”
She could not control her tears.
She had cried so hard that her breathing became uneven, forcing her to gasp repeatedly. Her embroidered handkerchief was already a wreck. She knew she had completely lost her composure. Although they had been husband and wife for years and there was little she needed to conceal from him, embarrassment eventually made her turn her face away so he would not see her.
Seeing her ruined makeup and tear-streaked face, Li Congjia sighed deeply. Enduring the pain throughout his body, he opened his arms in invitation. “I was wrong, Ehuang. I shouldn’t have made you worry. It’s over now. Everything is all right.”
Her pink skirts rustled softly.
She turned and looked at the man before her, weakened to the point that not even a trace of color remained in his lips, yet somehow still maintaining his habitual serenity. Ehuang finally believed he was truly going to be all right. She suddenly laughed through her tears and slowly leaned into his embrace.
His heartbeat was calm and steady.
The fragrance of red sandalwood that belonged only to Li Congjia surrounded her.
Ehuang slowly closed her eyes.
As long as you are safe.
Thank you, Bodhisattva.
As long as you are safe, I care about nothing else. I would trade anything only for you to remain unharmed.
Her head rested against his shoulder and unexpectedly touched a wound that could not be spoken of.
Li Congjia suddenly trembled.
“What is it? Does it hurt? Did I touch your wound?” Ehuang hurriedly sat up to look.
“No… no.” His smile was distinctly forced. “I…”
“Let me see the wound.”
He abruptly remembered that traces from that day might still remain upon his body. Fear rose in him, and he tried to retreat. “It’s fine. It really doesn’t hurt.”
“Do you remember what happened when they pulled the knife out? You nearly frightened everyone to death. How can you say it’s fine? The wound hasn’t even healed yet. Let me see whether it opened again.”
She thought nothing of it. Ordinarily, what significance would this have between husband and wife in private? Worried only about his injury, she did not think further and reached directly toward his clothing.
Li Congjia tried to retreat, but after sleeping for so many days he had no strength at all. His claim that his abdomen did not hurt had only been meant to reassure her. His weakened body gave way, and he collapsed back against the bed.
He could only watch as she lifted his clothing.
The dark marks had nearly faded, yet against skin made deathly pale by blood loss, they remained strikingly clear.
Ehuang abruptly bit down on her lip. That night he had returned drenched in blood amid total chaos, and she had hardly dared look closely even at his actual wound.
Only now, after suddenly opening his clothes, did she truly see what was upon his body…
Upon his body…
“I… I’ll go call the physician… You… you lie down first…” The woman in pink stumbled to her feet in panic, nearly colliding with the table before staggering to the door and fleeing outside.
Elio’s Notes: A quick heads-up for readers following along on JJWXC: the site’s entry 30 is a locked zero-character placeholder. Beginning with the next story chapter, JJWXC’s index therefore runs one number ahead of the author’s own chapter headings. FD follows the author’s headings, so our Chapter 30 appears as JJWXC entry 31, Chapter 31 as entry 32, and so on. No story chapter has been skipped.