Zhao Kuangyin had openly rejected him before everyone, leaving Xu Xuan with no recourse. “Since ancient times, when an enlightened ruler sends out an army to punish another state, the campaign must have a just cause. Yet our Ruler of Jiangnan has committed no crime, while Your Majesty has nevertheless raised an army against him. Does that not make this a campaign without just cause?”
Zhao Kuangyin looked as though he had heard a joke. He had never had much patience for these scholars who prided themselves on lofty purity. Xu Xuan plainly believed his own argument entirely reasonable, and his face even showed twelve parts indignation. Zhao Kuangyin had no desire to entertain such pedantic talk. He threw back a cold reply. “Jiangnan’s crime is that All-under-Heaven is not ruled by one surname.”
Those words steadied the Song army’s resolve. Xu Xuan knew he had nothing with which to refute him and could only prepare to return to the city. Before he left, however, Zhao Kuangyin summoned him privately. The man’s presence surged like a rainbow, nothing like the temperament of a southerner, yet beneath the slight lift of his swordlike brows lay something unspoken.
Xu Xuan could not imagine what Zhao Kuangyin might still have to tell him at a time like this. Could he mean to detain him and formally begin the assault on the city? The thought alone brought out a cold sweat.
Instead, Zhao Kuangyin’s voice was mild, with none of the dominance he had shown moments before. “Chancellor, when you return to the city, carry one message from me to the Ruler. This must never be spoken before the court. Tell him only in private.”
“Your Majesty, please speak.” Xu Xuan understood only that Zhao Kuangyin still needed him to carry a message back, which meant his life would not be harmed.
“If the Ruler is willing to surrender, I will not touch a single blade of grass or tree in Jinling.”
Xu Xuan frowned and immediately prepared to quote the classics, to argue that although Tang was weak, the hearts of the people still belonged to it and its integrity must not be cast away. At a moment like this, preserving his own dignity and backbone seemed the first thing that mattered. Zhao Kuangyin did not even give him the chance. He merely waved for him to leave. “Chancellor, there is no need to say more. Convey my words exactly. Five hundred thousand Song troops have surrounded the city for days. By now the people inside must already be in turmoil, and this cannot be dragged out any longer. I grant one day. After midnight tomorrow, if the Ruler still has not surrendered, we attack at dawn.”
Xu Xuan withdrew and returned to Jinling, never expecting Zhao Kuangyin to speak so plainly that he would even tell him exactly when the Song army intended to attack.
When he returned, only a few close ministers remained in Weiyang Hall. Li Yu leaned against his chair while the battle memorials Huangfu Jixun had suppressed were gathered again one by one.
Piaopeng stood beside him, holding the reports and reading them aloud one after another. “Flames rose for ten li across the river. Song warships seized the opportunity to advance, and ten thousand arrows were loosed at once. One hundred thousand troops were destroyed in a single defeat. The defending general and his men leapt into the river and died in battle.”
Xu Xuan’s heart pounded. He opened his mouth softly. “Ruler…” Piaopeng paused, intending to let Xu Xuan report his urgent matter before continuing. Above them, Li Yu sat with his long hair hanging down and his expression hidden. His voice was lower than usual. “Keep reading.”
Piaopeng’s hands were trembling. Every word was blood and tears.
“At Lishui Stockade, Cao Bin led his troops into fierce battle against the Southern Tang defenders under Li Xiong. Li Xiong and his seven sons fought drenched in blood, killing countless Song soldiers. In the end, father and seven sons all died heroically for the state.”
Xu Xuan was the first to kneel. Several close ministers followed, tears in their eyes.
The Ruler, dressed in plain white, leaned slightly to one side in his chair with one hand against his forehead. He had not spoken once since the reading began. Hearing the movement throughout the hall now, he understood what they had done.
“Get up.”
Piaopeng scanned the pages line after line. Whenever his gaze dropped farther down the reports, grief surged so violently in his chest that his eyes reddened. He shook his head, clutching the urgent dispatches in both hands. “Ruler…”
“Read.”
Tears filled Piaopeng’s eyes. “Ruler…” That low call already carried unbearable pain. He truly could not bear to continue. The others around him all began calling out as well, only to choke before they could finish.
What was there left to say now?
How could the people who had died for the state possibly be contained by these few sheets of paper? The Song army may have held the advantage in manpower, but its advance could never truly have been without resistance. From Jiangning to every side of Jinling, dragons battled in the wild and blood stained the withered chrysanthemums.
Green fields stretched beneath the sky, painted pleasure boats drifted on the Qinhuai, and now iron armor had trampled over everything until not a blade of grass remained.
“Keep reading!” Li Yu suddenly shouted toward Piaopeng. Piaopeng had never once in his life seen him lose his temper like this. Startled, he dropped the urgent reports with a clatter and immediately bent down to gather them again.
Li Yu closed his eyes as a rush of blood rose violently inside him, and he began coughing hard. Liuzhu hurried over from the side, dropped to her knees beside Piaopeng, and begged through tears for him not to agitate himself any further. For a long while Li Yu could not speak. Grief filled Weiyang Hall. He felt blood forcing its way up, yet braced himself desperately against the chair and suppressed it by sheer force. In the dizziness, visions suddenly rose before him.
He was playing the qin.
A pavilion stood in the middle of the lake, where even the faintest breeze could pass clean through, brushing flowers and stirring willow branches. A figure in a long Tianshui Blue robe sat there alone, smiling at the wind and moon.
Dusk closed in from every side. In an empty tower and lofty pavilion, someone smiled beside the window and spoke with perfect certainty, his whole body wrapped in the mist and rain of Jiangnan, pale light falling softly across him.
Phoenix Terrace was surrounded by firelight, illuminating that small patch of sky until it shone bright and clear. Night had already fallen. Apart from Phoenix Terrace itself, dense woods crowded every side, and once darkness descended they became utterly secretive and unfathomable, darker now than ever.
One stood in the light. One stood in the dark.
Blood.
So much blood.
He would rather it were all his own blood than sit here carrying the hopes of these people, forcing himself to remain composed and still having to be everyone’s god.
He truly could not bear it anymore. Zhao Kuangyin, did you ever imagine this day back then?
When you killed Li Hongji, did you ever imagine this day!
The white-clad figure suddenly bent over, gasping for breath. The thousand-year-old red sandalwood table before him was carved with nine dragons presenting a pearl, yet today every part of it looked like mockery. Everyone kowtowed to the floor, murmuring for the Ruler to preserve his health. No one dared raise their head to see him. Then something went wrong with his breathing. Piaopeng suddenly caught the sweet metallic smell of blood. Trembling in terror, he secretly looked up and saw the Ruler with his head lowered beside the table. Through the openwork carving of the red sandalwood, blood dripped steadily down.
The shoulders beneath the pear-blossom-white brocade heaved violently.
Liuzhu cried out. Things had reached the worst possible point, yet everyone could only stand there and watch him helplessly.
He did not want anyone to see his face, so he remained bent over. Everyone else stared blankly, grief so immense that they no longer knew what could possibly be done.
Liuzhu’s mind went completely blank. How many more days could he endure in this condition? Her tears fell in great drops, her lips and teeth trembling so hard she could not form a single sentence. Still kneeling, she moved closer with a brocade handkerchief and slowly wiped away the blood that would not stop. “Ruler… Ruler…”
Somehow he could still smile. Red spots like plum blossoms marked his pale profile, and the light in his double pupils had scattered until, in that instant, he looked almost demonic. He patted Liuzhu’s arm. “You… do not cry. I am not going to die…” His hand fumbled for the handkerchief and pressed it over his own mouth and nose. Darkness crowded his vision, while muffled sobbing surrounded him. “Xu Xuan?”
Xu Xuan answered at once. “This subject is here.”
“What… did he say?”
Xu Xuan was so shaken that he forgot every instruction he had been given. In his panic, the words simply spilled out, and he revealed the private message Zhao Kuangyin had ordered him to deliver. “The suzerain… the suzerain said… if the Ruler is willing to surrender, the Song army will not touch a single blade of grass or tree in Jinling.”
“Surrender?” Li Yu suddenly burst into laughter and rose to his feet. Bright red spots against that deathly pallor were shocking to see. “He killed my elder brother, brought harm to my wife, and now wounds my people and destroys everything my house built, yet he speaks to me of surrender! Zhao Kuangyin…” He could not continue. He remembered that painting, that bracelet. There was no way for the two of them to return to what they had been.
The wound on his wrist. From the day it appeared, everything had changed.
Snow falls across a thousand li of the northern lands… and you would have me exchange a whole river of blood for it!
I, Li Yu, have lived to this point believing I could spend my life with Flowing Wind and Resounding Spring, walking leisurely through quiet courtyards and smiling as clouds gathered and dispersed. I never imagined that years of jealousy and hatred would destroy every bond between brothers, that Flowing Wind and Resounding Spring would be gone in an instant. The heart I had in my teens truly was too simple, yet at least that youthful stubbornness was not wasted.
Beneath that tree, dressed in brocade, I thought you would surely be a hero in this life. That bearing of yours, brows raised and sword upright, is something I could never attain in all my lifetimes. I once wondered: it was only one mighty river between us. If I truly cast aside every restraint, abandoned the three thousand splendors behind me, and ignored whatever curses later generations might heap upon my name, could I really have stood beside you and smiled at snow falling over an entire city?
It is only a pity that you and I were opposed from the beginning, standing at completely different starting points. We walked farther and farther apart, yet still I must remember the scenery from when it all began.
Like a painting, like smoke.
Nothing but empty passing water.
No one had ever told me so sincerely that I had to live.
Not for anything else. Only to live for you.
Do you still remember that peach tree, and how you said its taste was bitter?
However beautiful it was, it was still bitter.
When the allotted life of spring blossoms is spent, so comes the death day of the jade-like one.
A shrine collapsing into ruin.
At last someone recovered enough to jump to his feet and shout for the imperial physicians. Li Yu stopped him sharply. “No need! Send down my decree. Open the palace gates tonight and dismiss everyone. Anyone in the palace who wishes to leave may go…” His strength was failing and his breathing had again turned uneven. The veteran ministers remained kneeling and refused to rise. “We swear to die with Jinling!”
Li Yu smiled with the same gentleness as before, though weakness now lay beneath it. “Once you leave the palace and enter Jinling, there is still some chance of survival. This is no time for foolish loyalty. Go and find some way to protect your parents, wives, and children. Anyone who insists on staying must be prepared. When the city falls, I will set fire to the palace and burn it.”
Liuzhu was startled and started to object, but she had never seen him so ruthless. The sudden severity in him lodged the words in her throat. Li Yu ordered the palace servants dismissed and property distributed among them, then commanded everyone to withdraw and shut the doors of the palace halls.
Chaos erupted throughout the palace at once. Rumors spread even faster in every direction. There were always timid people who hurriedly gathered their valuables and prepared to leave, while many more knelt outside Weiyang Hall, their crying unceasing.
An elderly monk from Guangliang Temple heard the rumors and came to Weiyang Hall asking to see the Ruler. He had originally served in the palace Buddhist hall and had been assigned to Guangliang Temple when it was established. He had been trusted for many years. Out of regard for that long relationship, Li Yu finally opened the doors.
“This poor monk has heard that the Ruler has sworn to remain with this palace. I am willing to lead everyone in the temple and follow you. On the day the city falls, if flames rise from Weiyang Hall, Guangliang Temple will pile firewood and burn with it. The Ruler has devoted his life to the Buddha. May the Buddha show compassion.”
Li Yu could not help feeling sorrow. He himself was already weak and drained, and could only order Piaopeng to step forward and support the old monk. “Master, there is no need for you to do this… Today you may lead your disciples out of the palace first. Andong Temple in the city has an old connection with the Song suzerain. However mad he may be, I doubt he would recklessly harm it. You should be safe there for a time.”
The old monk slowly shook his head. “Man is born and man dies. All things are illusion. If one truly awakens to life as the Buddha did, without sorrow or joy, dream or illusion, love or hatred, seeing the four elements as empty, then what difference is there between life and death? The Ruler need say no more. This poor monk takes his leave.”
Li Yu could not persuade him and only grew more desolate. Sometimes being abandoned by everyone was not truly frightening. What was frightening was reaching a hopeless end and still having people refuse to leave, still regarding your existence as a gift. Then you no longer even possessed the right to collapse. He had always been forced onto a shrine in exactly this way, and so had been compelled to behave as though he were an immortal: grief so great there were no tears, understanding so complete there were no words, laughter so vast there was no sound. He could not act rashly or speak rashly, because in too many hearts he remained something like a faith.
In truth, no one in this world was born great, born deserving to sit upon such a seat. That so-called double pupil in one eye was nothing more than an affliction. Li Yu laughed softly. A man who should have been blind had instead been treated by so many as a miracle, as emperor and sage. Now he was neither.
The joke had grown far too large.
Life floated like a dream. By today, one had to wake at last and see its hideous face.
The evening bell of Andong Temple rang out.
Elio’s Notes: The JJWXC raw prints the final character of “Andong Temple” here as 思 rather than 寺, even though the same chapter and established MR canon identify the place as 安东寺. FD treats this as a source typo and retains Andong Temple.
Xu Xuan still could not rest easy and remained outside the hall. He had someone carry a message inside. “The suzerain said that by midnight tomorrow, if the Ruler still…” He could not bring himself to finish. “…then the city will be attacked.”
Li Yu did not answer and only had him leave first.
The great hall stood empty. This was the same Weiyang Hall as always, once dazzling beneath the radiance of pearls, its red sandalwood fragrance intoxicating the senses. With jade-like bones, a single lift of his hand could have entered a painting. Golden-lotus steps once swayed in dance, flowering trees once reflected the long passage of years.
“Past affairs can only bring sorrow; before this scene, grief cannot be cast aside. Autumn wind fills the courtyard, moss creeping over the steps. Let the beaded curtain hang idle and unraised, for who will come all day? The golden sword lies buried, heroic spirit lost among weeds. Evening turns cool beneath a clear sky, and moonlight opens bright. I imagine jade towers and jeweled halls, their shadows falling empty over the Qinhuai.”
Elio’s Notes: These lines are from Li Yu’s Lang Tao Sha beginning “Past affairs can only bring sorrow.” Received versions contain small textual variants; FD follows the wording used by the novel. The line “The golden sword lies buried” also supplied the title of MR Chapter 7.
After resting for a long while, Li Yu gradually recovered some strength. “There is no time to wait now. Liuzhu?”
Liuzhu immediately understood something. She stepped back twice and lowered her head without speaking.
Li Yu softened his voice. “Liuzhu… I know you do not want to either, but… you promised.”
Piaopeng understood at once as well. “Ruler! No matter what happens, Piaopeng will remain to serve the Ruler.”
Li Yu only sighed. “At a time like this, I do not need to hear such words. If you truly care about the affection I have shown you all these years, then take good care of her… Remember that. You must.”
Liuzhu dug her nails fiercely into her own hand to keep herself from crying. Piaopeng nearly argued and stubbornly refused outright, but she immediately caught hold of him. “The Ruler must have his reasons. Piaopeng, come with me to Fengque Palace.”
Piaopeng remained obstinate. Li Yu quietly rubbed his wrist. “Piaopeng, I can say that although this life was never what I intended, I do not regret it. Now even if the city falls and the palace is destroyed, it does not matter. But… Nüying is her younger sister. I could not protect her. I cannot fail to protect Nüying as well, or else… I will die with my eyes open.”
He spoke those final four words as lightly as wind and clouds, as though in the next instant he might smile faintly and ride the wind away.
He himself could not see that the grief of the two people beside him had gone beyond what tears could explain. They could only support each other. Liuzhu was the first to kneel. Her expression became resolute. “Ruler, rest assured. Second Miss will come to no harm. Liuzhu takes her leave here and kowtows in thanks for the Ruler’s profound grace. Liuzhu will not forget it even in death.”
Every word was unexpectedly calm. Li Yu heard the rustle of her skirts as Liuzhu remained kneeling at his side, completed the full ceremonial bow, then rose with tears on her face.
At last Li Yu felt some comfort. “Liuzhu, you have not lost Ehuang’s spirit. You possess the same proud bones she did. So remember… you must live well.”
Live well. Someone had once told him those same words with such earnest hope. Yet today that same person had surrounded the city with five hundred thousand troops, determined to extinguish with his own hands the light he had once left behind.
“Yes, Ruler.” She looked at him one final time, then forcibly pulled Piaopeng out of Weiyang Hall.
Guangliang Temple lay deep and gray in the darkness. No one anywhere in the palace slept that night, and the sound of people hurrying back and forth never ceased.
Liuzhu and Piaopeng left Weiyang Hall together and headed toward the rear palace. As they crossed the little white-stone bridge along the central axis, Liuzhu told Piaopeng to inspect the passage behind the rockery while she went first to Fengque Palace. They spoke in low voices on the bridge. Everything had to be done as quickly as possible, so the two split up.
When Liuzhu entered Fengque Palace, Nüying was holding the Shaocao pipa while dismissing the palace servants. Several young maids knelt in front of the sleeping quarters, crying and pleading. Nüying was helpless as well. “Leave the palace tonight while you still can. If the city truly falls, escaping Jinling amid the confusion will not be difficult. Return home afterward and find your own way forward. Anything is better than staying here and losing your lives.”
Liuzhu could tell from her words that Nüying herself clearly had no intention of leaving. Anxiety tightened in her chest. Crying surrounded them on every side, making everything more chaotic. She could only remain in the outer corridor for a moment and think of some way to persuade her. After pacing back and forth several times, she finally made up her mind.
“Queen.” Liuzhu hurried inside, glanced at the people kneeling on the floor, and waved a hand. “All of you go first. Decide for yourselves whether you will leave or stay. Do not kneel here weeping and hesitating.”
Nüying had been thinking much the same. “Go, all of you. Remember, whatever happens, do not lose the spirit and backbone of Tang!”
The crowd gradually dispersed. Seeing the urgency on Liuzhu’s face, Nüying assumed something had happened to the Ruler. She took Liuzhu by the hand and led her into the sleeping chamber to speak privately. Before Liuzhu could even bow, Nüying stopped her. “Liuzhu, has something happened to the Ruler…? I heard he became unwell in the hall today…”
Liuzhu offered a little reassurance. “Queen, there is no need to worry. His mind is steady for now. But the Ruler has made arrangements for tonight. Please gather a few necessities and come with me at once.”
Nüying froze. Instinctively she clutched the pipa and would not let go. “The Ruler… where does he want me to go?”
Liuzhu took a cloak from a nearby stand and brought it over for her. “The night is cold and windy. The Ruler is waiting at the end of the palace waterway. We are leaving the palace tonight.”
Nüying stared in astonishment as Liuzhu fastened the cloak and immediately began pulling her toward the door. Only after several steps did she recover enough to speak. “Did he not say in the hall today… that he would live and die with this palace…?”
Liuzhu shook her head and lowered her voice, her performance perfectly convincing. “The Ruler has his own plans. So long as the green hills remain, the Li bloodline may yet find another opportunity. There were too many ministers in the hall today. After what happened with Huangfu Jixun, the Ruler could hardly reveal everything openly before others.”
Nüying felt that something was wrong, but the entire night had been so chaotic that she could not decide exactly what did not fit. Liuzhu repeatedly insisted that time was urgent, that the palace gates would be closed at dawn, and that they had to get out quickly. Seeing Nüying still hesitate, she stopped caring about anything else, seized her, and ran. Nüying was in fact several years younger than Liuzhu. With panic and grief everywhere in the palace, her own thoughts had become disordered as well. Amid the confusion, all she could remember was to clutch the Shaocao pipa tightly to her chest. “Sister…”
Liuzhu pulled her swiftly along. At that unconscious murmur, all the pain in Liuzhu’s heart surged up at once. She abruptly turned and embraced Nüying as though the girl truly were her own younger sister. “Second Miss, forgive Liuzhu’s disrespect today. Let me call you Second Miss once more. Everything will be all right. It will. I promise.” Feeling Nüying’s hand forcing itself to remain steady, she whispered, “Do not be afraid.”
Nüying nodded. “I am fine. We should hurry and find the Ruler.”
Liuzhu turned away. Her tears scattered into the wind and dried almost instantly in the cold, chilling her heart with them. Nüying’s golden cloak, embroidered with round hibiscus medallions, lifted in the night wind. From a distance, she looked like nothing more than a child.
Candles burned bright while incense dimmed within the painted tower.
From behind a vermilion-lacquered pillar, Jingchan watched Liuzhu lead the Queen away. She looked around. No one else was there. Quietly, she stepped out. Passing the sleeping-chamber doors, she found that Nüying had left in such haste she had not even closed them. Jingchan reached out, gently shut the doors, and headed toward Guangliang Temple.