"I come to seek a posthumous edict, Your Majesty."
On the second day after returning to the camp, the main army marched southward, leaving a small contingent behind to guard the city. General Qin arranged for soldiers to clear the battlefield and record the casualties.
Song Zhiluan was surprised to hear there was a letter for her. She found the pigeon coop and retrieved the message.
Yunu tugged at the soldier who had delivered the news and asked, "Is there a letter for me?"
The soldier, having delivered messages to her several times before and now a familiar face, thought for a moment and replied, "There is none for you."
News of the rebellion's suppression must have already reached Jing. Song Zhen had sent letters several times before—why was there no message this time?
As Yunu pondered the contents of Song Zhen's previous letter, her thoughts grew heavy. She failed to notice Song Zhiluan, after reading her letter, furrowing her brows into a knot, repeatedly smoothing and tightening them as if unsure which emotion to settle on. The faint smile that usually lingered on her lips faded away in the process.
Traveling by night, Song Zhiluan sat inside the carriage. Zhinu poured her a small cup of wine and said, "Your Highness is recuperating, so you may only have a little."
Yunu, usually the quietest of them all, was even more subdued now. She picked up the wine jug, sat to Zhinu's left, and drank directly from its mouth in one go.
Surprisingly, Song Zhiluan did not ask for more. Cupping the small wine cup in both hands, she gazed silently through the rolled-up carriage curtain at the vast land outside.
The atmosphere in the carriage grew so oppressive that Zhinu felt she could hardly breathe, yet she made no sound.
After a long while, Song Zhiluan spoke: "The Xi Yi are in turmoil. Those old barbarians demand that my sister be buried alive with the former King of Xiyi."
Yunu set down the wine jug and looked up.
"Father," Song Zhiluan blinked her dry eyes, "surely this time, he will bring my sister back."
Zhinu grasped her hand and asked, "Your Highness, is this a letter from His Royal Highness the Crown Prince?"
Song Zhiluan nodded. "Yes. Father is critically ill. My brother says I must hurry to see him one last time."
Hearing her tone, Zhinu tentatively asked, "Is there any good news as well?"
If it were only this news, Her Highness would not be so calm.
As Zhinu expected, Song Zhiluan took a sip of wine and nodded. "My brother said that on the brink of death, one's words turn kind. He spoke highly of me before Father, and Father relented. He agreed to welcome my sister back to the court. However, to ensure stability in the court after his passing and to silence the murmurs of the masses, I must seek a posthumous edict."
Yunu seemed enlightened, her tangled thoughts suddenly falling into place.
Zhinu stood up excitedly. "Your Highness, this is wonderful news! I knew His Royal Highness the Crown Prince would never break his promise to you."
Infected by the joy on Zhinu's face, Song Zhiluan felt a slow warmth spread in her heart. "You're right. This is good news. What matters most is that my sister can return. Once my brother ascends the throne, we can slowly seek redress for all the suffering inflicted upon her."
"Exactly."
Yunu listened to their exchange in silence for a long moment before finally leaving the choice to Song Zhiluan. "Your Highness, must we return to Jing?"
Returning at such a time likely meant stepping into a storm of bloodshed in the Imperial City.
The Emperor was critically ill, the Crown Prince frail, the other princes mere children. The dynasty, established only a few years ago, faced internal strife and external threats, with various factions still unstable.
Without hesitation, Song Zhiluan replied, "We return."
The first light of dawn bathed the earth, gilding the path ahead like gold.
And so, Yunu returned with her.
Song Zhiluan rode off on Xie Yujin's prized Ferghana horse, just as she had arrived—without alerting anyone. She returned to the estate in the maple forest and took a shortcut back to the Imperial City.
Upon entering the city gate, she sensed the impending storm.
Even the troops dispatched to suppress the rebels had received summons to protect the emperor—how many places had such secret orders reached by now?
Light cavalry gathered outside the city walls in succession, their affiliations unclear, but Song Zhiluan paid no mind and proceeded directly into the palace.
Likely, her elder brother had made prior arrangements, for no one stopped her.
In the Hall of Mental Cultivation, Song Dingyuan lay beneath an embroidered quilt, his ailing body frail and gaunt, his graying beard reaching his collar.
Having endured decades of open and covert attacks, he had dragged his broken body through life for many years—a longevity of sorts.
The consorts attending to his medicine withdrew upon her arrival.
Song Zhiluan knelt before the bed.
"Father."
Song Dingyuan coughed violently several times and said, "Xie Yujin, cough, and Qin Weiping have returned?"
"Not yet."
Hearing this, he slowly opened his eyes, gazing through the window lattice—whether he saw the young man standing outside the hall was unclear—his aged face deeply wrinkled.
"Xiao Luan, you were safe by Xie Yujin’s side. Why did you return?"
Hearing that affectionate tone again, Song Zhiluan’s long-suppressed emotions nearly overflowed. Her voice trembled slightly: "What does Father wish to hear? A tale of paternal love and filial devotion? That His Majesty’s most cherished princess raced day and night, disregarding life and death, just to see you one last time?"
Instead of anger, Song Dingyuan’s voice softened, his expression tinged with guilt: "It is I who have failed you. Of all my children, you are the one I’ve wronged the most. Had it not been for the incident at Changbai Slope, you would have remained my most beloved child. You know how I’ve always favored you, but alas, the world is ever-changing."
That address—"Daddy"—inevitably summoned images in Song Zhiluan’s mind.
As a child, when her tutor scolded her for mischief and confiscated her rattle ball, it was Daddy who took her out of the classroom, retrieved the ball, and played with her all afternoon.
During the Lantern Festival, Daddy would lift her onto his shoulders so she could see the lanterns on the stage.
She would even draw turtles on his face, and he would pretend to be angry, chasing her around the courtyard.
But she hadn’t had a Daddy in a long time.
Song Dingyuan was at death’s door, his pupils unable to focus. Though only fifty, he appeared decrepit. "You’ve come for your sister, haven’t you? To plead for a posthumous decree on her behalf."
"Go behind the painting in front of the hall and retrieve the wooden box inside."
Song Zhiluan shuddered, her eyes instantly alight with hope, murmuring unconsciously, "Daddy?"
Song Dingyuan gazed at her tenderly.
Without another word, Song Zhiluan rushed over, found the painting Leaping Carp in Gushing Spring, moved the vase aside, and took out a box.
Fearing any misstep, she handled it with extreme care. Once in her hands, she did not open it immediately but looked back at Song Dingyuan.
After a long silence.
Song Dingyuan said, "I know the Crown Prince dotes on you, his younger sister. After my death, when he ascends the throne, he may summon Heyan back. The Crown Prince takes after me—suspicious by nature—but he has always been good to you. That you could come before me today must be his arrangement."
"In principle, I should not refuse the Crown Prince’s kindness," his voice suddenly grew weighty, "but the empire our countless soldiers fought to establish must not descend into war again. I have sat on the throne for only eight years, yet the legacy of a thousand autumns far exceeds that. To secure it, one must be ruthless."
The light in Song Zhiluan’s eyes flickered briefly before extinguishing completely, like a pool of dark, stagnant water.
The hall was deathly silent.
She felt waves of bone-chilling cold creeping up from her tailbone.
"I have left an imperial decree. After the new emperor ascends the throne, envoys will be sent to Xi Yi to congratulate their new king. Heyan's children will also be betrothed to Xi Yi's princes."
"Xiao Luan, in the end, your father has failed you," Song Dingyuan sighed softly. "My restless elder brother should be arriving soon. You must leave quickly."
After he finished speaking, Song Zhiluan remained motionless for a long time.
No one knew how much time had passed when cold, pouring rain mixed with snowflakes began falling outside the window.
Just as Song Dingyuan was about to close his eyes, he caught sight of Song Zhiluan rising to her feet in his peripheral vision.
Her face trembled with hatred: "You're wrong, Father. The child you've wronged most isn't me, and the one you owe the most isn't me either—it's elder sister! While I was abandoned by you, wasn't elder sister abandoned too? While I froze until unconscious under bridges, didn't elder sister travel for days and nights through wind and snow? While my health was damaged, wasn't elder sister's health equally ruined? I received your compensation and enjoyed wealth and honor, but what about elder sister? Before she could experience a single day of peace, you traded her for thirty thousand troops and sent her to that place that devours people without spitting out bones! Song Heyan is the child you've wronged most! And now you still want to sacrifice her children too! How did elder sister come to such a fate? Just because she bears the surname Song?"
Thunder rumbled, illuminating Song Zhiluan's pale face. Her expression was cold as hot tears streamed down.
"Xi Yi is a wolf that can never be tamed. Do you truly believe that by sacrificing elder sister and her children, you can preserve your half-kingdom?"
Song Dingyuan, who had established his empire in the Central Plains, had always been most sensitive about the word "half." Yet hearing Song Zhiluan's outrageous words, he surprisingly showed no anger.
But in Song Zhiluan's eyes, the pity and emotion displayed on Song Dingyuan's face appeared almost demonic. "Xiao Luan, this is the best solution. By sacrificing just her alone, the common people can live in peace, spared from the suffering of war. Anyone in my position wouldn't retrieve the peace-making princess to satisfy personal desires. You're still too young and inexperienced."
Song Zhiluan sneered coldly: "I have a better solution, Father. Would you like to hear it?"
Song Dingyuan remained silent. Without giving him a chance to refuse, Song Zhiluan leaned close to his ear and whispered one sentence.
This Martial Emperor who had conquered battlefields to claim the throne, having witnessed all human affairs and walked through hellish scenes, had long cultivated an unshakable composure. Yet upon hearing his daughter's words, his face instantly turned gloomy, like a sick ghost.
Song Zhiluan used the imperial decree to wipe her tears, smiling as she said: "Father, I like this expression of yours. Why not depart now? In the future, when I remember the look on your face, I might feel inclined to offer you a few more cups of wine."
Before she finished speaking, Song Dingyuan stared fixedly at her, struggling to rise, but his arm suddenly went limp as he breathed his last.
Song Zhiluan stood in the hall for a while before slowly turning to leave.
Pushing open the door of the Hall of Mental Cultivation, she found the outside already engulfed in flames.
Palace maids and eunuchs fled in panic, while concubines and guards huddled in a sorry state against palace walls, dodging stray arrows. Tens of thousands of soldiers had surrounded the forbidden palace.
Bumped by someone, Song Zhiluan remained relatively calm—perhaps because she had imagined this scene more than once before.
Pushed and shoved forward, she reached the Taiye Pond and saw a stone bridge.
Under the stone bridge, the darkness was so thick she couldn't see her own hand, yet Song Zhiluan felt strangely at peace.
She hid inside.
Song Huaizhang had been waiting behind the hall for a long time, but Song Zhiluan never appeared. After another quarter-hour, the clashing of swords grew closer. Just as he was about to enter the hall, a eunuch rushed to report: "Your Highness, the Linghuai Princess has disappeared!"
"What?" He grabbed the eunuch by the collar, furious. "Didn't I say to bring her to me the moment she emerged? Are you blind?"
"Your Highness, this servant truly didn't notice when the Linghuai Princess left. Please spare me!"
"Find her now!"
The hollow beneath the bridge was larger than Song Zhiluan had imagined, with a sliver of moonlight leaking through a crack.
She knew Zhinu and Yunu would come looking for her, so she left a mark on the bridge that only they would recognize.
Song Zhiluan felt as if she had returned to her safe nest. She took the Imperial decree from her bosom, spread it open, and pressed it against the cold, snowy ground. Then she pulled out a hairpin and began to scratch at the decree with it. The torn silk threads tangled around the pin and her hand as she exerted force, slowly tearing it apart.
The Imperial decree was too long. Song Zhiluan's wrist gradually strained, churning the snow beneath and leaving scratches on the ground. A harsh, grating sound echoed in her ears.
"Even on your deathbed, you had so much to write. May you be reborn as a scholar in your next life. My sister and I will live long lives, and never be your daughters again."
Tears fell from her eyes onto the ground, quickly absorbed by the snow, leaving a faint warmth where they landed.
Song Zhiluan seemed to fall into a kind of madness, gripping the hairpin tightly, her pupils slightly dilated.
"Song Zhiluan."
She thought she was hearing things.
Until her face was gently cupped and turned, meeting a pair of dark, profound eyes.
Xie Yujin gazed deeply, quietly observing the blood on Song Zhiluan's hands and face.
Song Zhiluan stared blankly for a moment, then smiled and said, "You found me so quickly. I just hid."
It was him again, discovering her sooner than anyone else.
No matter where she hid or what she became, Xie Yujin always found her.
Xie Yujin's armor was covered in broken arrows, his face marred by cuts that oozed blood. His black hair was tied high, and his helmet was nowhere to be seen.
Song Zhiluan gently touched his face, watching as his wounds bled, both laughing and crying. "By my calculations, you should still be outside the city. The palace is so dangerous—how dare you come looking for me? Xie Yujin, is my life really that important?"
Though she kept smiling and speaking lightly, Xie Yujin sensed something was off.
He lowered his gaze quietly, holding the hand she had placed on his cheek. "I was passing by. You were crying too loudly."
"Liar. You must have fallen in love with me."
He fell silent as she leaned her head on his shoulder, her laughter tinged with a barely noticeable sob. "I'm so sad, so sad I feel like I'm dying. Xie Yujin, right now, only your love could make me feel even a little bit better."