Xie Jing lifted the bed curtains and climbed onto the bed with light steps before pulling the quilt up for Lu Shuqing, who was facing the wall with his legs slightly curled, already fast asleep.
Then, he turned over to lie flat while staring blankly at the top of the canopy with open eyes. This was no longer the bed curtain embroidered with pomegranate blossoms from his wedding night with Lu Lingcong; lying on this bed at sixteen, in the very same posture, he likely could never have imagined that a day like this would ever arrive.
While the high fever had refused to break, Xie Jing had indeed heard someone speaking in his ear, but he had assumed it was merely a dream or a hallucination. That person called his name over and over, telling him to “live on,” repeating it to the point of being tedious, until even in his stupor, Xie Jing unintentionally empathized with the speaker’s anxiety.
It turned out to be Lu Lingcong. In truth, it could only have been Lu Lingcong.
They all wanted him to live on, yet living was far more difficult than dying. When the executions beneath the Zhuque Bridge ended, he had finally collapsed after three days and nights without sleep; a split second before losing consciousness, the severed heads of his father and elder brother were still reflected in his eyes. At that moment, he had been racing toward death.
Even during the days he was rescued and brought back to the mansion to recover, that thought had flickered constantly in his mind—until he finished reading that letter.
Based on Xie Jing’s understanding of Lu Lingcong, he could say without hesitation that Lu Lingcong had written it as a suicide note.
Lu Lingcong was such a singular person; before making a decision, he could sometimes appear overcautious, self-deprecating, or even indecisive. However, once he made up his mind, the strength of his will and his capacity for execution were terrifying to behold. Xie Jing could vividly imagine the scene—even if the affection within the letter weighed a thousand pounds, Lu Lingcong must have written it with effortless composure. Nothing could hinder him from walking the “path” he had chosen, not even death.
Unluckily for him, even if it happened a hundred or a thousand more times, Xie Jing would still be captivated by such audacity. He had been supercilious and arrogant from childhood, his willingness to follow closely behind Lu Lingcong for all these years in the roles of wife, younger brother, and subject was driven by two things alone—Lu Lingcong’s detached “decisiveness” toward events and his effortless “ruthlessness” toward people.
Therefore, Xie Jing could not spend his days washed in tears, living complacently in grief and regret while letting Lu Lingcong live a life on the edge of a blade alone to brave danger for the sake of the entire family.
Revenge may have been a distant and reckless ambition, but at the very least, Xie Jing knew where the first step lay: the catalyst behind the Xie family’s catastrophe—the batch of Lantian jade that had appeared out of nowhere, and He Gao, who had delivered the gift at such a sudden and suspicious moment.
Lantian jade was produced within the borders of Yongzhou, which happened to be He Gao’s jurisdiction. It was more than a thousand miles from the capital; without a swift horse or a carriage to travel in, and relying only on his own strength, it would likely take him over half a year to reach there.
Xie Jing was not afraid of the long journey itself; what he feared was that if he left, with his children remaining alone in the manor, how could he ever find peace enough to sleep at night?
But how could he take them with him? They might not even be permitted to leave the capital—for Lu Shuqing, it was almost certainly impossible. Even if he did manage to get them out, he was unarmed and barely knew how to use the small dagger, Flying Light; if his own self-preservation was in question, how could he protect his children? Having spent these years in the capital doing nothing but desk work, he was completely ignorant of the practicalities of daily life and a blank slate when it came to the ways of the world. On what could he rely on to provide for his children and keep them sheltered from the storm?
Nearly a month after discovering his kin had been slaughtered like lambs while he remained utterly helpless, that profound sense of despair and impotence finally, and belatedly, submerged Xie Jing.
There was a rustle beside him, Lu Shuqing rolled over in his sleep. Unaware of anything and acting purely on instinct, the boy tugged one of Xie Jing’s arms down to serve as a pillow, burying his head into the crook of his mother’s elbow.
Xie Jing froze in the darkness, his heart instantly turning as sour as if it had been soaked in plum broth—how could he ever bring himself to leave?
On the first day of the first lunar month, the new emperor, Lu Lingzhang, ascended the throne and performed the sacrifices to Heaven, changing the era name to Jingyu. As he was only sixteen and had not yet reached his majority, Empress Dowager Wang and the Right Prime Minister, Wang Chu, jointly served as regents.
Having learned their lesson from being whipped by Lu Lingzhen, the Yulin Guards arrived at the gates of Prince Zhao’s Mansion once more, this time bearing drawn blades; their intentions were clearly hostile.
The captain in the lead had grown bolder, likely because the Wang clan of Langya grip on power was now an established fact; with the support of the emperor’s maternal kin, his courage had swelled. After all, they had not come to set fires or spill blood; only to remove a deposed princess consort who had been personally repudiated by Prince Zhao. Even if Lu Lingcong returned to demand accountability, how much of a storm could he truly kick up?
Thus, this time he completely abandoned any pretense of courtesy. He led his men to break down the doors and barge inside, driving straight into the heart of the mansion.
Some of the household servants had not yet returned to their homes, and those who remained could not be assembled in time. Steward Zhou led a group of young servants and maidservants out to confront them, barely managing to intercept them beneath the central hall. At that moment, Yin Chou and Lu Shuqing were still in the medical room. Hearing the disturbance, they were nonetheless unavoidably drawn into the confrontation, meeting this conflict head-on.
Yin Chou immediately shielded the boy behind her while rebuking them, “Have you all gone mad by charging into a Prince’s Mansion with weapons?”
The captain sneered, “That’s preposterous, Miss. If our entry is considered a forced intrusion, then wouldn’t the descendant of a disgraced official, that Madam Xie who has stayed here for over half a month, be a squatter who has usurped the nest?”
“The installation or deposition of a princess consort is a private matter of Prince Zhao’s Mansion,” Uncle Zhou questioned. “Even if he is to be expelled, the order should come directly from His Highness himself. Is this truly the governing policy of our Prime Minister Wang to meddle so freely in a subject’s family affairs?”
The captain paused; he didn’t mind throwing his own weight around, but he dared not let the Prime Minister’s Mansion be burdened with such a legal pretext. He swept his gaze over the servants. “The way you all protect him is quite strange. Could it be that this so-called ‘divorce and deposition’ is merely a ruse of feigned compliance played by Prince Zhao, a smokescreen used to secretly keep this criminal within the mansion?”
This struck a chord with everyone’s inner anxieties, and for a moment, no one dared to speak. Seeing this, the captain said triumphantly, “If that is truly the case, I must report this to His Majesty and Prime Minister Wang and request an imperial decree for a thorough investigation. Perhaps even the Eldest Princess has a hand in this.”
Lu Shuqing gently pushed Yin Chou aside. As she turned her face, she heard him say, “Auntie, let me.”
“Qing’er, you—”
Lu Shuqing simply shook his head, stepped through the mansion servants blocking his path, and walked slowly to the base of the steps. He looked up to stare directly at the captain without a trace of fear. “By the tone of Your Lordship’s voice, it seems this isn’t your first visit? Are the Chief Secretaries, Adjutants, and Supervising Officials of the Yulin Guards all dead that they would send a mere lowly captain to interrogate me? I am the heir of Prince Zhao, personally titled by the late Emperor. Where do you place the dignity of the late Emperor and the Imperial Family for the Yulin Guards to show such disrespect toward me?”
That captain had only recently been promoted and had never had the opportunity to recognize Lu Shuqing’s face. Initially, he hadn’t spared the child a second thought, but after hearing him speak, he retreated a few steps in hesitation. He offered a reluctant salute, though his tone remained hostile, “Your Highness Shizi, please allow me to explain; it is not that the Yulin Guards dares slight princely authority. It is only that I have come this time by the Prime Minister Wang’s personal appointment. If there has been any lapse in courtesy, it was difficult to avoid.”
“Personally appointed?” Lu Shuqing said, his voice was cold. “Has Prime Minister Wang attained such towering status now? Is he the sovereign, or the prince regent? He is a mere assistant official, yet he dares to overstep his bounds and make decisions for my Imperial Uncle?”
Seeing that the boy was not intimidated by Wang Chu’s reputation, the captain changed his tactics by adopting a threatening tone, “Prime Minister Wang did not forget to tell me to look after Your Highness Shizi’s interests. After all, you are the ‘Auspicious Omen’ born in the Jiuhua Palace, a once-in-a-century occurrence that the late Emperor took great care to nurture. However, you are young and inexperienced; do you not realize that you might lead others to believe that Your Highness Shizi and Prince Zhao harbor some unspeakable ambitions by tying yourself so tightly to the Imperial Family?”
Lu Shuqing gave a cold laugh. “My father is a meritorious minister personally recognized by His Majesty. For those treasonous words you uttered just now; seeking to drive a wedge between ruler and subject, brother and brother, even ten thousand deaths would not be enough to atone for them!”
He stepped forward, stopping a mere half-arm’s length from the captain, and said, “My mother may no longer be the wife of Prince Zhao, but he will forever be the birth mother of the heir. If you wish to drive him away, I will give you a way.”
Lu Shuqing suddenly reached out and drew the captain’s saber halfway from its scabbard. Without changing his expression, he said, “Take this and strike me down. Carry my corpse to report to my Imperial Uncle, and tell him that my mother’s mind has crumbled, that he has committed the madness of killing his own son and is no longer fit to remain in the mansion. If you can do such a thing, I might respect you for having a shred of courage; if you cannot—then give up on this scheme while you still can!”
He looked at the captain with a gaze of undisguised contempt. Uncle Zhou watched with deep anxiety, yet in that moment, he seemed to catch a faint glimpse of the peerless, arrogant young top scholar of years past.
Stung by resentment and provoked by Lu Shuqing’s taunts, the captain actually unsheathed his blade. Seeing this, the crowd cried out “Shizi” and rushed to intervene, but the surrounding Yulin Guards lunged forward brutally to block their path.
“A wet-behind-the-ears brat really thinks brandishing blades is child’s play! Even if I truly hurt you today and pinned it on that Criminal Xie, it’s you and your mother who suffer. What does it matter to me!”
As he spoke, he raised his saber and made a move to swing it toward Lu Shuqing. At that exact moment, a swift flash of emerald-green streaked through the air and slammed into his face. The captain felt a jolt of searing pain; when he came to his senses, his face was already marked with several bloody claw wounds.
“What the hell is that!” He cursed loudly, only to see Lu Ai circling above his head like a vulture, seemingly looking for an opportunity to strike another vicious blow.
However, Lu Shuqing frowned and shouted, “Lu Ai, go back! I don’t need your help!”
The captain reached out to grab Lu Ai, but Lu Shuqing slammed his shoulder into the man’s ribs, knocking him off balance. Staggering backward in fury, the captain seized Lu Shuqing by the collar and moved to hurl him aside. As the two became entangled in a chaotic scuffle, a clear, slender voice suddenly rang out from behind them:
“Stop!”
Everyone turned their heads. Xie Jing had woken up at some unknown point and followed the commotion to the central hall. His illness was impossible to hide, and his expression was haggard, yet he managed to stand upright by leaning against the doorframe.
Lu Shuqing took advantage of this opening to immediately break free from the captain’s grip and run back to his mother’s side.
Xie Jing’s voice did not tremble in the slightest, “There is no need for Prime Minister Wang to trouble himself with such concern. Since Prince Zhao has no room for me, I have no intention of shamelessly staying either. The only reason I haven’t left yet is because my illness was heavy, and I truly could not get up.”
The captain narrowed his eyes as he sized him up. “From the look of you now, you hardly seem like someone who cannot get out of bed.”
Xie Jing replied calmly, “I have mostly recovered. Therefore, I have come specifically to inform Your Lordship that I will leave the Prince’s Mansion tomorrow morning and depart the capital immediately; I will not linger in Jinling a moment longer.”
Just as the captain was about to raise a doubt, Xie Jing continued, “You may bring your troops back tomorrow morning. You can watch me with your own eyes or escort me out of the city gates yourself. Would that suffice as an account for Prime Minister Wang?”
The captain pondered for a long while before snarling, “This is your final deadline. If you aren’t gone by tomorrow morning, it won’t be settled this easily!”
With that, he waved a hand for his men to withdraw. Yet after taking only two steps, he abruptly halted and turned back. A sinister look slid toward the eaves, while his hand slowly reached for the repeating crossbow hanging at his waist.
Xie Jing’s expression changed instantly. He jerked Lu Shuqing behind him to protect him only to see the captain raise the crossbow and aim it directly at Lu Ai, who had flown back to the bird stand.
The crowd heard a sharp “twang”. The parrot flapped its wings to dodge, but it was a step too late; its soft, vibrant body was instantly pierced by the bolt. Lu Ai let out a shrill, piercing cry and plummeted straight from the air like a fading, emerald-and-red azalea flower dying with its fragrance intact, crashing onto the cold white jade steps.
It no longer moved.
Lu Shuqing’s eyes widened as he let out a startled cry, “Lu Ai—!”
The captain merely wore a smirk, spat out the word “brute,” and led his men away in a haughty stride.
Lu Shuqing stumbled forward to cup the parrot’s remains in his hands with helpless desperation, “…Lu Ai, Lu Ai? Speak to me, say a few words to me!”
But Lu Ai’s blood had already soaked deep into the crevices of his fingernails.
Lu Shuqing received no response. After a long, dazed silence, he lifted his head and looked toward his mother in an unbelievable plea for help: “Mother, Mother, come quickly and look at Lu Ai. Why isn’t Lu Ai moving anymore…”
Xie Jing felt cold all over. It took every ounce of his strength just to squeeze out a single, hoarse phrase, “Qing’er…”
Lu Shuqing suddenly broke into loud, grief-stricken wails. He dropped to his knees where he stood, words tumbling out in confusion, his voice shattered by sobs. “Mother! Lu Ai is dead! He killed Lu Ai!”
That cry was heart-wrenching enough to make anyone who heard it feel as though their own heart were breaking. All the pain of losing his maternal grandfather’s family, the upheaval of the Prince’s Mansion, the falling out of his parents, and Lu Lingcong’s departure surged toward him like an overwhelming tide. Lu Ai’s death became the final straw that broke him. All of Lu Shuqing’s forced composure and endurance over the past half-month met with total defeat at this moment, collapsing in utter ruin.
At dusk, in the courtyard of the inner chambers.
Xie Jing dug a pit beneath the white plum tree where the parrot’s stand usually hung. Lu Shuqing personally washed Lu Ai’s small corpse before grooming her once-proud emerald feathers until they were smooth and beautiful again.
Yin Chou wrapped it in a snow-white silk handkerchief, then found an empty brocade box and lined it with thick, soft padding. She carefully placed the small gold bowl and golden spoon that the bird had loved most inside.
Lu Shuning crouched beside Lu Ai’s “coffin,” still not understanding what had happened. She gently patted it while softly humming a lullaby she had learned from her mother. She simply thought Lu Ai was asleep.
Lu Shuqing gazed blankly at the scene with his red and swollen eyes. He suddenly unfastened the longevity lock around his neck, removed a single bead from the string at the bottom, and placed it over Lu Ai’s eye; the one left mangled and incomplete by the bolt. “You used to peck at this every day, and you’d nag me if you couldn’t reach it. I’ll let you have it then; I don’t care for it anyway.”
The bead was so radiant and translucent that it made her appear even more brilliant, just as she was when she was alive.
When the brocade box was sealed and lowered into the earth, Lu Shuning stepped forward eagerly to take the small flower shovel, taking over the task of filling the grave from her mother and brother.
Her innocent composure seemed to turn this final parting into a “joyous funeral.” This was not a bad thing either, Xie Jing thought. Lu Ai’s soul should be light and free; she would ride the fragrant winds all the way to the Penglai fairyland, transforming into the most vibrant and noble Blue Bird before the Queen Mother of the West.
