Shao Yijue, who was assassinated by his wife the moment he came home: “?”◎
Smoke and fires of war rose all around, dyeing half the sky red.
The sixteen prefectures west of the Ji River were captured by the rebel army; once Wanzhou was crossed, the imperial capital would be within direct reach.
Who could have imagined that this happened in less than half a month, spreading as swiftly as a dawn wildfire, ruthlessly startling everyone in the Great Zhou Dynasty out of their dreams.
Zhou Mangzhou only learned of the matter three days ago, having been busy arranging the bridal chamber until then. From disbelief, to burning rage, and finally to a cold calm, he made a decision.
Unless he saw it with his own eyes, he would not believe it.
That night, he rode out on a fine horse with a whip in hand, heading straight for the imperial city gates, followed by a line of guards calling out anxiously. The Great Zhou Dynasty enforced a curfew, and past midnight, the streets were silent and desolate. The city gate guards did not dare to open the gates; even as an imperial prince, entering or exiting the imperial city at night required a pass or a special imperial edict.
“Your Highness, Prince Lin, please do not make things difficult for us.” The commander of the city gate guards knelt and said.
Zhou Mangzhou had prepared in advance, flashing the golden waist token he had swiped from his imperial father a few days prior. “This Prince is acting on His Majesty’s orders to handle affairs outside the city. If the hour is delayed, can you bear the responsibility?”
“Your Highness, please do not falsely convey the Emperor’s decree.”
” ”
As the reigning court’s most favored young imperial prince, this was indeed not the first time Zhou Mangzhou had pulled such a stunt. Backed by the pampering of the Emperor and Empress, wherever he wanted to go, he would pull every string to get there. Forget this golden token; ever since he learned to crawl as a baby, he had been pressing his paw prints onto imperial edicts to play.
Who in the Great Zhou Dynasty did not know of the Emperor and Empress’s doting and indulgence toward the young prince? Had the crown prince not been established early with three older brothers ahead of him, the throne might well have been handed to this young prince.
Zhou Mangzhou had grown up in pampering, possessing a spoiled, innocent, and naive temperament; unless pushed to the limit, he rarely made things difficult for people.
The guards behind him advised, “Your Highness, we should head back.”
Instead, Zhou Mangzhou drew the long sword at his waist, pointing the blade at the guard commander and threatening, “Open the gate!”
This was truly not a suitable weather for traveling; muffled thunder rolled across the night sky, and a storm was brewing. Zhou Mangzhou’s face was cold, the blade flashing with a chilling glare. With imperial might, even as a mere nineteen-year-old youth, he could not help but make others shudder with dread.
After a brief stalemate, the city gate was finally thrown open for him. Zhou Mangzhou sheathed his sword, squeezed his horse’s flanks with his legs, and let out a light cry of giddyup, hurrying toward Wanzhou.
The guards had no choice but to spur their horses and follow.
Riding hard through wind and rain, they arrived at Wanzhou when the morning light was already faint and thin. The eastern sky was as thin as a sheet of mulberry paper; with just a gentle poke, the sun would leap out from within.
Regrettably, the sunlight never shone upon this land ravaged by the fires of war.
Wanzhou had always held the title of the lesser imperial capital. Being closest to the imperial capital of the Great Zhou Dynasty, Zhou Mangzhou had loved galloping over here to roam around since he was a child, going to eat Wanzhou’s most famous Ding’s hawthorn cake and Guang’an Tower’s eight-treasure duck.
He knew Wanzhou like the back of his hand; aside from the main city gate, there were four corner gates through which one could enter the city.
The corner gate was located beneath the watchtower. Zhou Mangzhou galloped over, reined in his horse to a halt, and after a routine inspection by the gate guards, the corner gate opened to let him into the city. The guards offered an escort, but Zhou Mangzhou stopped them, saying, “You guard every small gate and do not let the rebels slip through any loopholes.”
The streets in the city were desolate, completely lacking their past bustling prosperity. Households had bolted their doors and suspended business, with only patrols of soldiers marching past in a hurry from time to time to inspect the city’s commoners and guard against spies.
Zhou Mangzhou was also intercepted and questioned before galloping past, heading straight for the prefectural government office.
The prefectural office was heavily guarded, layer upon layer. Only after verifying Zhou Mangzhou’s identity multiple times did they respectfully allow him inside.
Hearing the report, Zhou Tingchen came out to welcome him, his long brows slightly furrowed. “Xiaozhou, why have you come?”
“Second Brother.” Zhou Mangzhou looked at the man before him, his fingers tightening. “Is it true?”
Before coming here, he had held onto a last shred of hope, thinking perhaps there was a misunderstanding, and even if there were rebels, it wouldn’t be.
Is it Shao Feng?
True to his name, Zhou Tingchen looked like a gentle and refined person, upright and dignified like a true gentleman. Unlike other imperial princes who possessed an imposing aura, because of chronic childhood illness and poor health, he had no talent for martial arts. Yet among all the imperial princes, he was the most astute and intelligent, well-versed in military books; even from a hundred miles away, he could devise strategies to win a decisive victory.
If anyone in the current Great Zhou Dynasty could match wits with Zhou Tingchen in the art of warfare, it was only General Shao Feng.
“Xiaozhou, your clothes are wet. Go take a hot bath and change into something dry first.” Zhou Tingchen did not directly answer his younger brother’s question, instead ordering hot water for bathing and food to be prepared.
He had been caught in the rain along the way, inevitably turning into a drowned rat. But how could he possibly care about himself right now? He grabbed Zhou Tingchen’s sleeve and asked in a cold voice, “Is it Shao Feng?”
Zhou Tingchen pressed his lips into a stern, straight line, meeting Zhou Mangzhou’s glistening, black-grape-like eyes washed clean by rain, and sighed, “It is.”
At that very moment, Zhou Mangzhou finally felt as though a basin of cold water had been poured over him, chilling him from the top of his head down to the soles of his feet. He swayed, on the verge of collapse. “It’s truly him?”
“Where is he?” Zhou Mangzhou turned to leave, dark clouds gathering on his unworldly face.
“Xiaozhou!” Zhou Tingchen caught his younger brother’s wrist. “Don’t be reckless.”
The rebel army was named the Tianque Army. They had arrived outside Wanzhou the night before, camped three miles outside the city, and could be seen in the distance upon climbing the city walls.
Zhou Mangzhou recognized the Tianque Army’s fluttering maroon banners and pitch-black silver armor. Viewed from afar, the hundred-thousand-strong army looked like a shimmering silver river winding toward the end of the earth, carrying a massive and imposing momentum.
Yet the garrison troops of Wanzhou, combined with those summoned from the imperial capital, amounted to a mere thirty thousand.
It was a disparity as vast as heaven and earth. To say they stood no chance of winning was an understatement; turning the tables with inferior numbers had always been as difficult as ascending to the heavens.
“It really is him…” Zhou Mangzhou’s hands, resting upon the city wall, clenched tightly. Pitch-black spots danced before his eyes, and his head buzzed.
Zhou Mangzhou leaned forward, wanting to see more clearly, but saw only the clear blue sky. The solar disc suddenly shrank into a white speck, plunging the world into pitch darkness.
Amidst the hazy blur, someone gently called out to him, “Young Highness…”
When he opened his eyes once more, the sun had set and the moon had risen. The sounds of clashing gold and galloping horses rang in his ears.
The city was in utter chaos, with commoners carrying their families and fleeing overnight.
Zhou Mangzhou gave a start, nearly colliding against the wooden partition wall. The sound of rumbling carriage wheels filled his ears, revealing that he was inside a carriage.
“Zhaohui,” he called out to his personal bodyguard.
The carriage door opened, and the bodyguard said with a tight expression, “Your Highness, the Tianque Army is attacking the city. We must leave Wanzhou as quickly as possible and return to the imperial capital.”
Zhou Mangzhou stared blankly for a full four or five seconds before abruptly snapping back to reality. He slammed his hands onto the carriage door, his breathing unstable. “Where is Second Brother?”
“His Second Highness is currently commanding the defense.”
“Was there no negotiation?”
“This subordinate does not know.”
Zhou Mangzhou gripped his own matching sword. “Turn the carriage around.”
“Your Highness…”
“Turn it around!”
With Zhou Tingchen’s tactical genius, how could he possibly have failed to dispatch envoys to negotiate? The fact that the Tianque Army had camped outside the city for three days without making a single move was the best proof of that.
Zhou Tingchen was buying time, waiting for reinforcements to arrive.
The rebellion of the Tianque Army was far too abrupt. Forget Zhou Mangzhou, even the ministers at court, along with the Emperor and Empress, had been completely caught off guard. It was as though a disaster had fallen from the heavens; the Tianque Army had conquered eighteen prefectures in half a month, a feat nothing short of miraculous.
Shao Feng had always been a peerlessly sharp blade. Wherever he passed, if he so desired, not a single blade of grass would grow.
Once upon a time, Zhou Mangzhou had believed he held this blade, wishing to keep it treasured by his side. He had even defied the norms of human morality and propriety, proclaiming to the entire world that he would marry Shao Feng. Yet now, it had all become a colossal joke.
Shao Feng had betrayed the Great Zhou, betrayed him, and betrayed the time they had spent together in the past.
Or were all those moments fake?
Doubt still lingered in Zhou Mangzhou’s heart, alongside a sliver of wishful thinking. Perhaps Shao Feng had not betrayed them at all, but someone within the Tianque Army had usurped power.
For instance, the Ghost-Faced general by Shao Feng’s side.
The more Zhou Mangzhou thought about it, the more he felt this was possible. That Ghost-Faced general had always harbored unfathomable intentions and brutal methods. Used well, he was a sharp weapon, but if he harbored rebellious intent, no one could control him.
The shouts of battle shook the heavens, drawing near enough to echo right by his ears.
The Tianque Army’s assault on the city was massive. Just by listening with his ears, Zhou Mangzhou knew the military situation was critical.
The city gates emitted a booming sound like rolling thunder. Cart after cart of boulders was hauled up to the ramparts above the main city gate to repel the enemy soldiers climbing up via scaling ladders.
Zhou Mangzhou stepped on the stone stairs and ran up the city wall. Lacking strength in his legs, he stumbled and scraped his knee, a wave of scalp-tingling pain shooting through him instantly.
“Your Highness!”
Zhou Mangzhou brushed away the bodyguard’s helping hand, climbed back up by himself, and continued limping up the steps.
He had to see it with his own eyes.
On the city wall, the Great Zhou troops maintained strict and dense defensive formations under command. Flames soared to the skies, and arrows rained down like a meteor shower from time to time. Men fell, blood flowed, and others let out dying cries of agony.
“Your Highness, watch out!” The bodyguard swung his sword to swat away a stray flying arrow.
The arrows were fired in waves. Once the enemy side finished shooting, their own side would counterattack. Taking advantage of this interval, Zhou Mangzhou crouched down and hurried across, arriving above the main city gate. He peered down from the battlements, casually hacking down an enemy soldier who was about to haul himself up.
“Xiaozhou!” Zhou Tingchen’s voice reached him.
Without looking back, Zhou Mangzhou leaped up and stood right atop the city wall.
“Pull him down!”
Zhou Mangzhou was like a living target, dangerous, but he no longer cared. He needed Shao Feng to see him.
Fine rain mizzled through the night sky, and the wind grew fiercer. Zhou Mangzhou’s black silk cloak, embroidered with gold and trimmed with fox fur, fluttered wildly in the gunsmoke.
Straining his eyes into the distance, he spotted the Tianque Army’s fluttering commander banner. Before the banner stood a mighty war chariot, and in front of the chariot was a black steed with four white-hoofed paws.
Atop the steed sat a general clad in dark iron armor, bare-headed with his long hair tied back, exuding a heroic and spirited aura.
Yet Zhou Mangzhou felt as though he had been struck by lightning, no longer able to deceive himself.
As flames soared into the heavens, the general atop the horse raised his head and looked up, his movements halting.
Zhou Mangzhou gazed at the general from afar, able only to vaguely outline his handsome contours, while what expression rested on his face remained completely obscured.
Was it his usual indifference, or mockery of his wishful thinking?
Zhou Mangzhou did not understand. As the young imperial prince of the Great Zhou Dynasty, he had given Shao Feng everything he could. Why would Shao Feng betray him?
No, there was still one thing he could never give him, and that was the imperial throne.
Was Shao Feng’s ambition truly this vast?
Zhou Mangzhou’s stomach spasmed slightly, and a desperate, throat-shredding cry burst from him: “Shao Feng!! Shao Feng!”
At the same time, the Ghost-Faced general galloped forward on horseback and hurled a long spear.
The spear pierced the air, flying with astonishing accuracy across such a vast distance straight toward Zhou Mangzhou.
Zhou Mangzhou’s eyes held only Shao Feng.
Yet he saw Shao Feng draw a bow and nock an arrow. The arrow shot forth like rumbling thunder, reaching right before his eyes.
Zhou Mangzhou’s pupils contracted.
Clang and crash, the long spear’s trajectory was deflected by the arrow, brushing past Zhou Mangzhou’s shoulder and tearing a gash in his cloak.
Having failed his strike, the Ghost-Faced general looked back and glanced displeasedly at Shao Feng.
Shao Feng swiftly loosed a second arrow, striking dead center in the Ghost-Faced general’s shoulder as a form of deterrence and warning.
Shao Feng was too far away; Zhou Mangzhou still could not clearly see his expression. Suddenly, his arms were gripped by two guards, who hauled him down by the waist off the city wall.
With a tone of reprimand, Zhou Tingchen said, “Xiaozhou, stop messing around. Go back!”
Zhou Mangzhou declared, “I’m not leaving. I want to defend the city here with Second Brother.”
In an absolute tone, Zhou Tingchen told the guards, “Take him away. If he loses a single hair, I’ll hold you responsible.”
Bodyguard: “Yes.”
Zhou Mangzhou was forcibly dragged away, struggling as he shouted, “Second Brother! Second Brother!”
Zhou Tingchen called out, “Go back! As long as I hold out here for two days, I will definitely wait for Big Brother’s reinforcements.”
Their eldest brother was none other than Zhou Yuanji, the Crown Prince of the Great Zhou Dynasty, renowned as the bravest and most formidable in battle. He had been campaigning alongside the army across the four directions since the age of fourteen and had never suffered a defeat to this day.
As long as he arrived, he would undoubtedly be able to stand against Shao Feng’s Tianque Army.
Two months prior, Zhou Yuanji had headed to the southern territories to suppress an encroaching border tribe. That tribe was exceedingly cunning, relying on their familiarity with the terrain to raid everywhere, and it had taken Zhou Yuanji a great deal of effort to dismantle them one by one.
Immediately following that came the rebellion of the Tianque Army. For the news to reach the southern territories would take at least half a month, and riding back, even at a gallop day and night without sleep, would require roughly ten days.
Consequently, Zhou Tingchen’s strategy was to stall as long as possible; provided they held out until reinforcements arrived, there would still be room to turn the tide.
Wanzhou had to be defended.
“Second Brother!” Zhou Mangzhou clenched his teeth, refusing to budge. “I’ll stay and wait for Big Brother with you!”
Zhou Tingchen only said in a deep voice, “Go back. I am here.”
It was not as though Zhou Mangzhou had never set foot on a battlefield; he had never feared the fires of war, blood, or death. It was just that previously, he had always surveyed war from the vantage point of a victor, high and aloof, untouched by mundane smoke, like a deity.
This time, he had been passively thrust into war, only to discover that war had always been cruel.
To the victor go the spoils, and to the vanquished go the shame; he might well become the defeated party.
The person who had led him to experience the passionate slaughter of the battlefield was Shao Feng, and the person who had plunged him into his current plight was also Shao Feng.
He could not even stand alongside his own brother to defend the city, because his presence would only distract Zhou Tingchen.
Zhou Mangzhou cast one final glance back at the countless troops outside the city walls. He could no longer find where Shao Feng was, nor did he need to look anymore.
If they were to meet again in this lifetime, it would likely be across the edges of drawn blades.
He brushed past the guards and walked step by step down the stone steps, utterly soul-devoid.
Muffled thunder rolled across the night sky, and fat raindrops smashed down, yet they could not extinguish the fires of war.
Zhou Mangzhou looked up. Half the sky was stained red, resembling the red silk he had hung by hand along the corridor outside the bridal chamber.
A humorless laugh escaped him. He had waited to marry Shao Feng, only to be met with betrayal.
He did not cry; it was only the rain falling upon his face.
Boom and rumble.
The sound of thunder, seemingly exploding right above his head, shocked Zhou Mangzhou awake. He opened his eyes abruptly, his gaze hollow and empty, momentarily unable to tell what era it was or where he even was.
His mind remained muddled, with only the dream as vivid as reality.
He stared blankly for a full half-minute before slowly detaching himself from the past life in his dream. Clear pupils reflected a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
The chandelier was extraordinarily gorgeous, representing something he had never seen before.
Or rather, everything here felt novel to him.
He had arrived in a completely unfamiliar world, where civilization differed vastly from the world he originally inhabited, manifesting in every single aspect of daily life.
Zhou Mangzhou sat up, gazing out the latticed glass windows amidst the thunderstorm. Just like two days ago, his ears could only pick up sounds when the noise was exceptionally loud. He touched his slightly dull-aching neck and tried to open his mouth to make a sound; forget being heard, he probably couldn’t even speak.
In other words, he was currently half-deaf and mute.
With bandages wrapped around his head, he could deduce that something must have happened to this body for it to end up like this.
Thinking just a little too much caused his battered head to start protesting. Zhou Mangzhou’s brain buzzed. Over the past two days, he had either been lying down or lying down, leaving his body as frail as if he hadn’t eaten in half a month.
Wait, had he eaten anything since coming here?
No.
No one had brought him food.
Zhou Mangzhou suddenly snapped awake from hunger. There were easily a dozen servants in this house; why hadn’t anyone brought him food?
Originally, he had planned to wait until his body recovered somewhat before exploring this new world. At this rate, however, he would likely kick the bucket from starvation before he even recovered.
Gathering a breath of energy, Zhou Mangzhou got out of bed to find something to eat.
If others neglected him, he couldn’t just starve himself to death.
A pair of pure cotton slippers sat by the bed. Unaccustomed to wearing such contraptions, Zhou Mangzhou went barefoot out the door, following the corridor to the second-floor balcony. The villa was massive, with two staircases leading from the main hall to the upper floor like a pair of embracing crescent moons. At the top, a crystal chandelier hung down like a waterfall of a thousand threads, sparkling brilliantly. Every time Zhou Mangzhou passed by here, he would pause to gaze at it.
He found it bizarre that such a magnificent piece of craftsmanship belonged to a small household.
An estate covering less than a thousand square meters with only a dozen servants, which, in the eyes of a young prince raised in the imperial palace, was practically a minor household.
Both the corridors and staircases were laid with thick, silver-gray woolen carpets, keeping Zhou Mangzhou’s feet from feeling cold, though his nightshirt was thin and the rainy night chill was biting.
The lights in the main hall were only partially lit. A few servants stood respectfully at attention, while the housekeeper rushed outside holding an umbrella.
Amidst the thunderstorm, Zhou Mangzhou could only faintly hear the rumbles of thunder; whatever the servants were saying, he couldn’t hear a word of it. Seeing him come downstairs, they cast unreadable, lingering stares his way.
Given this setup, someone important must have returned.
Zhou Mangzhou dawned on the realization that he wasn’t the master of this house after all. The person returning on this rainy night was the true master.
What was his status here, then? At the very least higher than a servant, yet treated with blatant disregard.
Composed and steady, Zhou Mangzhou leaned against the banister as he walked downstairs, where a plate of fruit sat on the living room coffee table.
He seated himself on the sofa, casually snapped off a banana, and peeled it.
A servant glanced at him again, lips moving as if speaking, though he couldn’t hear a thing.
Lacking even the energy to be angry, Zhou Mangzhou numbly yet elegantly began to eat. Preserving his strength right now took precedence above all else.
Having plunged headfirst into an unfamiliar new world, he needed to assess the situation clearly before making any moves.
A true hero knows when to bend and stretch, as it was all about forbearance, Zhou Mangzhou thought.
He wanted to see what kind of game the master of this house was playing, and perhaps the man could even be reined in for his own use.
The villa fell into an absolute, pin-drop silence. Having finished the banana, Zhou Mangzhou hesitated between an apple and a bunch of grapes before ultimately picking up a bright red apple and a fruit knife.
The fruit knife was exquisitely crafted, somewhat resembling an artifact tribute from a distant borderland nation, with wild roses carved into its handle and a blade as clear as water. Zhou Mangzhou admired it for a few seconds before leisurely and calmly starting to peel the apple.
The peel fell away like a winding red snake, trailing down from his slender, fair fingertips.
Halfway through peeling, a figure drifted into the periphery of Zhou Mangzhou’s vision.
The housekeeper took the umbrella from the master’s hands, respectfully placing it in the entryway umbrella stand to drain. As the housekeeper spoke, the servants bustled about their respective tasks, every movement filled with cautious care.
Unable to hear, Zhou Mangzhou felt as though he were watching a silent film, with everyone revolving around this single man before him.
The man was tall, his figure as straight and formidable as a sword stored within its sheath. He wore a black fedora, a black trench coat, a white shirt, and handmade leather shoes. Covered in the dust of travel, he carried a small black metal suitcase by his side.
Despite the umbrella, a distance still separated the front courtyard from here, and amidst the raging wind and rain, the man had inevitably caught some moisture. He removed his fedora, handed it to an attending servant, and cast his gaze sideways toward the sofa in the center of the living room.
Following the man’s movement, light and shadow rippled across his deep-set brows, eyes, and straight bridge of the nose, ultimately settling at a faultless angle, resembling a peerless, handsome deity stepped out of an ancient myth.
Their eyes met. Zhou Mangzhou’s pupils dilated as if struck by a bolt of lightning.
“Shao Feng?” he parted his lips, murmuring soundlessly.
The man understood his lip-reading, yet perhaps he didn’t.
In an instant, Zhou Mangzhou felt as though he had been hauled back to that night, gazing across vast distances from the city wall at Shao Feng amidst the myriads of troops, yet utterly unable to make out the other’s expression.
He only knew that he had been betrayed by his first love.
That ferocious, shattered, and irrecoverable beautiful dream intertwined directly with the present reality.
With a single bound, Zhou Mangzhou dashed forward, the fruit knife aiming straight for the man’s neck.
Shao Yijue, who was assassinated by his wife the moment he came home: “?”