Chapter (6): Conclusion

Liu Junlin had visited several days in a row, but not a single piece of news had reached him; a strange silence hung heavily over the Daoist temple. During these days, Liu Zhanyan stayed quietly in the study, reading books that Liu Junlin had brought him last time—a whole chest full. Each book had been carefully read and annotated by Liu Junlin; whenever a passage inspired him, or a section impressed him, he left his thoughts in the margins.

As Liu Zhanyan read through them, he often felt as if Liu Junlin were still by his side. Whenever he came across a note that echoed his own thoughts, a gentle smile would bloom on his lips. He lost track of which book he was leafing through, until he found one with no visible annotations. Only when he turned to a certain page, its corners slightly creased, did his eyes fall upon a few words: “Senior brother, I miss you…”

His face flushed crimson in an instant, and Liu Zhanyan covered his face, speechless for a long time.

“Tieqing…” Liu Zhanyan called softly, “I want to go to the capital.”

Tieqing was momentarily taken aback, but nodded. “Alright.”

There was little to prepare for the journey. Tieqing packed up quickly, tucked a blanket around Liu Zhanyan, and wheeled him out. The wheelchair was not so much for immobility as it was for conserving his strength—his current condition meant the slightest exertion cost him far more than it would another. Qingyu did not come to see them off, which, curiously, gave Liu Zhanyan a sense of peace.

He had not been out in a long time. Strolling through the woods, Liu Zhanyan found it much unchanged. Suddenly, a rustling came from a patch of grass nearby, setting Tieqing instantly on guard. The sound grew nearer, until a flash of white leapt from the bushes. Tieqing failed to intercept it, and the white blur landed straight in Liu Zhanyan’s lap. With a soft laugh, Liu Zhanyan scooped up the now-chubby animal and teased, “You heartless little thing, only now you come to find me—silly White!”

Little White yawned and nuzzled against Liu Zhanyan’s cheek. Seeing the creature so sleepy, Liu Zhanyan let it doze in his arms without further fuss.

Noticing Tieqing’s astonished look, Liu Zhanyan explained, “He’s been with me since I was a child. I haven’t seen him in ages. Judging by how he is, I suppose he’s come to keep me company on the road.”

Tieqing nodded and continued pushing the wheelchair onward. At the foot of the mountain, a man in light blue waited by a carriage.

As they drew near, Liu Zhanyan called, “Uncle Wen.”

Tieqing exchanged a polite nod with the man, helped Liu Zhanyan into the carriage, and remained outside. Uncle Wen entered as well. The carriage was unexpectedly spacious and comfortable, with thick cushions on the seats and a soft couch for Liu Zhanyan to rest upon; a brazier glowed warmly in the corner.

Uncle Wen said, “Young Master, all of this was prepared by the Lord. He asked me to tell you: the capital is fraught with danger, the situation ever-changing. You must be vigilant.”

Liu Zhanyan’s eyes grew moist with gratitude. “Uncle Wen, I understand.”

Uncle Wen was the deputy head of the Sound Pavilion, overseeing the organization’s myriad affairs. The Sound Pavilion’s spies were scattered across the nations, gathering intelligence, trading in weapons and goods—their power and wealth both unfathomable. Monarchs of all lands had sought to win their favor, but the identity of the Pavilion’s master remained shrouded in mystery.

No one would have guessed that its master would choose to build a Daoist temple on a nameless mountain and become a priest.

The carriage rolled on smoothly. When it stopped before a butcher’s shop, Liu Zhanyan alighted and entered. A small child ran up and announced, “Brother, Mother doesn’t allow anyone inside!”

Liu Zhanyan started in surprise as a woman with her hair coiled in a bun came out, covering her mouth with a laugh—it was Sister Cuihua. Seeing the child’s face, so like her own, Liu Zhanyan asked, “Sister Cuihua, you’re married?”

She smiled ruefully. “Yes. A woman can be wild in her youth, but when the time comes, she must settle down.” There was a trace of bittersweet memory in her smile, but when her gaze turned to the child, it melted into pure happiness.

None knew better than Liu Zhanyan of Cuihua’s feelings for his master. Yet his master’s heart had long since belonged to another, and Sister Cuihua had waited in vain. Now that she was married, she had finally let go.

Glancing at the carriage, Sister Cuihua understood. “You’re on your way to him, aren’t you? Here for pastries, I suppose. My child loves them, so I made extra. I’ll get them for you—wait here. Shanwa, mind our guest!”

Shanwa straightened his little face and replied, “Don’t worry, Mother!”

He fished a thickly wrapped candy from his pocket, winked at Liu Zhanyan, and motioned for him to bend down. As Liu Zhanyan lowered his head, Shanwa shoved the sweet into his hand, glancing over his shoulder to make sure his mother hadn’t returned. He whispered, “Brother, I won this in secret. You’re so nice, I’m giving it to you—but you can’t tell Mother! It’s a secret!”

Liu Zhanyan laughed from the heart, flicked Shanwa’s nose, and hooked their little fingers together. “It’s a pinky promise. If I break it, I’m Pigsy! Now, let’s press our thumbprints. There, I promise—not a word to your mother.”

Sister Cuihua emerged, spotted the two whispering, and laughed. “What are you two plotting? So mysterious.”

Shanwa replied solemnly, “Mother, this is men’s business—women can’t interfere.”

Sister Cuihua handed the boxed pastries to Liu Zhanyan and, putting one hand on her hip, tugged Shanwa’s ear with the other. “Little rascal, who taught you that?”

Shanwa yelped, “Mother, it hurts—it was Father, Father said it.”

Liu Zhanyan chose that moment to slip away as a dark-skinned young man entered, embraced Sister Cuihua with one arm and scooped up Shanwa with the other. The three of them disappeared inside together. Liu Zhanyan thought, Sister Cuihua probably didn’t realize that the smile on her face was the brightest he’d ever seen. Even someone with little time left, like himself, could not help but be touched by such happiness.

A smiling face flashed through his mind—the face that always greeted him with gentleness, no matter when they met in winter, only to part in early spring. Yet never before had he missed him so deeply.

Climbing back into the carriage, Liu Zhanyan said softly, “Uncle Wen, let’s be on our way.”

“Very well,” Uncle Wen replied.

East Liu Hall.

Liu Junlin soon received word of Liu Zhanyan’s departure. At first, his heart leapt with joy, but that elation quickly sank. The political situation here was already precarious; how could his senior brother’s frail health withstand a journey like this? At the thought, Liu Junlin’s face darkened, and he managed a bitter smile. His senior was always so willful—well, he would resolve all these vexing matters before his senior arrived.

Soon after, the emperor summoned him. Changing his robes, Liu Junlin proceeded to the imperial study, where, as expected, he found Xiangzi standing silently by.

Liu Junlin knelt and saluted. “Greetings, Father.”

The emperor was copying a painting—a portrait of an astonishingly seductive woman. Even as mere brush strokes, the allure of her every gesture seemed to leap from the page—a true enchantress.

Glancing up at Liu Junlin, the emperor said, “Rise.”

He finished the last stroke, set his brush aside, and asked bluntly, “Do you prefer men?”

Liu Junlin’s face was expressionless. “Yes.”

The emperor was taken aback by the clarity of the reply—it was not the reaction he had expected. “Are you aware that, as a royal, marriage has never been a matter of personal choice?”

Only then did Liu Junlin rise calmly. “Father, you’ve grown old.”

The emperor’s brows knitted. “What do you mean by that?”

Liu Junlin gave a derisive laugh. “No need for further tests. You should know—more than half the court and the army are loyal to me.”

The emperor thought to himself, so it is true. He slammed the desk. “You’re not plotting to usurp the throne, are you?!”

Liu Junlin laughed outright. “Do I seem so bored? Endless state affairs and a harem of three thousand beauties are hardly my ambition. As long as you behave yourself on the throne and don’t interfere with me, your position will be secure. I can even guarantee that your little prince inherits the crown…”

The emperor’s face turned black. So he knew about the “little prince” as well—what else had he overlooked over these years? He fell silent.

Liu Junlin saw he’d made his point. “Don’t play games. I know your every move.” With that, he left, leaving the emperor in shock.

He’d suspected, even anticipated, but the confirmation that Xiangzi had betrayed him still sent a chill through Liu Junlin’s heart. The one who had grown up with him, cared for him—had always been the good spy his father placed by his side.

Liu Junlin stopped and asked coldly, “Have you anything more to say?”

With a thud, Xiangzi dropped to his knees, sobbing, “This servant deserves death! This servant deserves death!” The repeated words tore open a wound in Liu Junlin’s heart. Yes, he was not truly his Xiangzi—just a servant, no different from those who had bullied him as a child.

No different at all.

Xiangzi went on, “It was only because His Majesty threatened my family—I had no choice!”

Liu Junlin’s heart grew even colder. He looked up at the rare winter sunshine. “Did you know I brought your family to the capital long ago? The emperor can no longer touch them.”

Xiangzi panicked. “Then—then why…”

Liu Junlin tossed him a small vial. “Enough. I cannot abide betrayal in those around me. Your family will be well cared for. You go on ahead.”

Without looking back, Liu Junlin walked away.

Xiangzi, trembling, picked up the vial, eyes red with tears. Facing the direction where Liu Junlin had gone, he kowtowed deeply. “Your servant obeys.”

Your Highness, may all be well.