Chapter 5

Wei Jing was hazy, as if lost in a thick fog.

“I must expel the Tartars for my father and elder brother! I will sweep the steppes clean! I will exalt the might of our great Chu dynasty!”

A high, piercing shout from a youth suddenly resounded—firm and impassioned. All the fog cleared, and before his eyes appeared the Golden Palace he knew so well.

Wei Jing’s heart skipped a beat.

There stood a boy of about twelve or thirteen, his eyes and brows alight with enthusiasm. He stood before a middle-aged man clad in a mysterious black dragon robe. With kindly and gentle features, the man patted the top of his head and, beaming with joy, said to a dignified and lovely woman by his side, “My son truly has lofty ambition. Well done!”

“Your Majesty, do not praise him too much—beware, or this little fellow will become conceited,” chided the Empress, though the smile in her eyes was impossible to hide.

At that age when pride burns strong, the young boy hurriedly protested, “Not at all—I didn’t!”

“Ah, my younger brother is only twelve this year, but during yesterday’s training he already outperformed Liang Sima; Mother need not say anything about him,” the man added.

Beside the Empress stood another teenage youth, who, feeling protective of his younger sibling, quickly interjected with a laugh, “Ah Jing, as soon as you left the field yesterday, you managed to con your uncle into handing over a jade lion. Aren’t you going to fetch it? Or are you refusing it?”

Encouraged by his elder brother’s praise—and his temper shifting from anger to delight—the young lad exclaimed, “I’m off! I’m going right now!”

Without delay, he dashed away as his parents and elder siblings erupted into boisterous laughter.

Suddenly, the scene shifted.

At Marquis Pinghai’s residence, Fu Jun smiled as he patted the young boy’s shoulder and handed him the reins of the jade lion. “When our Fu clan’s ancestors founded the nation, they were valiant generals. What a pity their descendants have grown inept—forsaking martial prowess for literary pursuits. I truly regret it!”

“From now on, it all depends on Your Highness!”

“Thank you, Uncle!”

Uncle and nephew had always been exceptionally close. Fu Jun stroked his beard and was just about to speak when suddenly, another man burst into hearty laughter and said, “A good horse deserves a fine saddle. A few years back, I managed to acquire an excellent set of riding gear. I wonder if it pleases Your Highness?”

That man was none other than Qi Tian, a trusted aide of Fu Jun for many years and one of the Nine Ministers. Upon seeing him, Fu Jun immediately laughed and teasingly scolded, “Hurry up and bring it here so we can take a look!”

“Ha ha ha, coming, coming!”

The scene shifts again.

On a vast battlefield in the wilderness, 300 li beyond the northern border of Great Chu, the remnants of the Tartar army had utterly collapsed, scattering and fleeing deep into the northern desert. After this battle, for the next twenty years, the Tartar were too weak to launch any further invasions from the south.

A valiant young general tightened the reins, and the majestic warhorse—called “Jade Lion”—let out a long, fierce neigh as it came to a halt. Bloodstains splattered across his face and body; he exuded a daunting aura of killing intent and brimmed with high spirits.

Alas, his composure was instantly shattered by a loud announcement: “Report! An imperial edict has been received in the capital—His Majesty has suddenly suffered a stroke and is now in critical condition!”

The young general’s heart nearly broke. Without hesitating, he turned his steed and galloped in a frenzied dash toward the capital. Riding day and night without ever closing his eyes, he finally reached the capital on the sixth evening. Burning with anxiety, he charged straight into the palace and burst into his father’s bedchamber, “Father, you—”

A wave of dizziness washed over him, and with a thundering “thud,” he collapsed. In his final moments, he barely caught sight of someone emerging from behind the curtain; that person leaned over the dragon throne and said, “Your Majesty, it is done.”

That person turned out to be none other than Qi Tian—the very same man who had presented the riding gear several years ago—Fu Jun’s trusted aide and confidant.

The entire Fu clan, along with the Empress’s legitimate branch, was overturned overnight. The one who set it all in motion was none other than his father-emperor—the kindly, compassionate man who had loved and protected him for twenty years.

“Ahhh!”

Amid the roaring tempest of rain, Wei Jing suddenly sat up in the darkness and bellowed, “I’m going to tear you limb from limb and reduce your bones to dust!”

His eyes blazed blood-red, his face twisted in fury, and his chest heaved violently as hatred nearly burst forth from his very being.

Consort Li and her son—and that so-called good father-emperor—had deceived him so devastatingly that he vowed to exhume their coffins and whip their corpses, burning them inch by inch to ash, in order to vent the relentless hatred in his heart and to honor the spirits of his dear elder brother, his uncle, and other close kin in heaven!

No—that is not his father!

He is unworthy! He is unworthy!!

“I’m going to kill you!”

Wei Jing trembled all over, his teeth chattering uncontrollably, utterly unable to free himself from the grip of his anguish. It was not until a fierce, howling wind, lashing rain into the cavern and striking his face with its icy blast, that he finally broke free from the nightmare.

Inside the dark, narrow, shallow mountain cave, where rain poured in torrents, he broke into a cold sweat and panted heavily. After what felt like an eternity, he could only muster the strength to collapse against the uneven mountain wall.

A sudden stabbing pain shot through his left arm—this was the wound inflicted by the poison. He clutched his left arm and paused in shock.

The wound had been bandaged, with some unknown substance—moist and cool—applied inside. For a brief moment, a pair of clear, bright almond eyes flashed before him.

Wei Jing hesitated, then lowered his gaze. A petite, fragile body was curled up next to him. Due to the cold, gloomy ground and the drenching rain, she had unknowingly, in her sleep, inched over to snuggle tightly against his legs. When he moved his leg, she shifted even closer.

Wei Jing’s gaze grew complicated.

After personally experiencing the inescapable trap set by his revered father‐emperor, witnessing the brutal deaths of his elder brother, his uncles, and other close kin—and with his mother’s fate unknown—he was filled with seething anger and resentment, wary of anyone who dared approach him.

This, of course, included his wife, whom he had not even seen since their marriage.

Yet it was this very slight, frail woman—whom he scarcely regarded—with a persistent illness throughout their journey. Once she recovered a bit, she mustered her strength to care for him, encourage him, and even go to desperate lengths to help him escape.

How could someone like her exist? It was utterly counterintuitive. What could her true motive possibly be?!

But then he reconsidered: in his current state, he had nothing left that was worth treasuring. If anything did remain, it would probably be only his life itself. She wasn’t after his life at all; on the contrary, she had repeatedly saved him.

As for the matter of the key unlocking—let’s set that aside for now. Earlier, when he had nearly fainted by the creek, he hadn’t completely lost consciousness.

At that time, the poison from the dart was even more potent than he had expected, and coupled with rapid blood loss, he collapsed before he could tend to his wounds. He could not move yet retained faint awareness in his muddled state.

She staunched his bleeding and then hurriedly moved him to the creek to let the poison-ridden blood flow out; her treatment was spot on. Instinctively, he channeled his energy to suppress the toxin, his consciousness gradually waning. Then, amid a sudden jolt, he struggled to force his eyes open in his blurry state and realized he was lying on something, with a slender, delicate body exerting every effort to pull him forward.

It was an immense effort, for in his haze, he saw how the vine rope had dug deeply into the coarse fabric of her garment at both shoulders. Then, with another rumbling clap of thunder, Wei Jing caught, in that brief flash of light, the sight of a small but deep bruise on Shao Qing’s neck, its skin red, swollen, and tinged with bruising. She had applied something to it, but unfortunately, since it was hard to bandage, almost all of it had already come off.

Could someone—simply by virtue of her title—truly entrust her heart so easily?

Wei Jing’s thoughts churned in turmoil, and suddenly, he remembered his father‐emperor.

No—it couldn’t be.

Yet when he reached out to feel all the wounds on his body, he discovered that each had been meticulously bandaged. There was also a sticky, pungent smell in his mouth—the scent of raw egg liquid.

He cast another glance at the person lying on the ground.

……

Shao Qing, growing colder in her sleep, longed to remain immersed in slumber but found herself awoken by the chill. Then, with a roar of thunder, she was completely startled awake. She, still half-asleep, opened her eyes to peek at the situation outside the cave—only to find herself staring into a pair of dark, glossy eyes.

“Ah!”

Startled, Shao Qing leaped upright, snapping out of her daze when she realized Wei Jing had awakened.

Overjoyed, she exclaimed, “You’re awake! Are your injuries all right? Do you know you’ve been poisoned?”

She peppered him with questions, her face lighting up with joy. Wei Jing paused before replying, “You drained the poison blood in time. Later I’ll channel my energy to suppress the remaining toxin, and once we’re out of these woods, I’ll remove it.”

“Is the poison that severe? Can you still move?” she asked, her voice sounding feeble.

This poison was deliberately meant for Wei Jing, so it was indeed potent—but he replied lightly, “It should be fine.”

“That’s wonderful!”

After resting, Shao Qing’s whole body ached terribly—especially her shoulders, which hurt fiercely from dragging the stretcher—but at that moment, her heart was filled with happiness, and the pain seemed almost bearable.

“I’ll get you some herbs,” she said. She had already grabbed some herbs and was chopping them into pieces. As she worked, she added, “These common mountain herbs are milder in effect; we’ll probably need to replace them often.”

Otherwise, if we set out tomorrow, there might not be enough time to change them. Determined, Shao Qing was willing to do everything possible to help Wei Jing feel better.

Wei Jing glanced at her and simply replied, “Mm.”

In the darkness, she ground the herbs into a paste and stepped forward to remove Wei Jing’s clothes and bandages. When her cool fingertips touched his skin, his muscles tensed abruptly.

“Does it hurt? I’ll be gentle.”

The two were quite close. In the dim light—her back turned so that he couldn’t clearly see her face—she remained utterly focused, her long, curled eyelashes unmoving.

Slowly, Wei Jing relaxed and let down the guard he had instinctively raised against a stranger’s approach. “It’s nothing.”

“That’s good,” she murmured.

Shao Qing carefully applied the herbal paste and bandaged his injuries, first tending to the wound on his collarbone and then moving on to his arms and legs. As she finished, she asked casually, “Which way should we go next?”

“North.”

She was about to ask why when she heard Wei Jing say, “I must first return to the capital to confirm my Empress’s safety.”

Shao Qing was utterly stunned.

His mother, Empress Fu—she has passed away!

The late emperor collapsed on the very day he subdued Wei Jing; before his last breath, he declared that he could not bear to part with the Empress, and Empress Fu, unable to part from the late emperor, immediately sacrificed herself by joining him in death. Her original self had only been implicated and thrown into prison on the day after the new emperor ascended the throne, so Shao Qing knew this.

But looking at Wei Jing, whose lips were pale and covered in wounds, she opened her mouth and found herself unable to speak. In his condition now, how could he possibly endure another such blow?

Shao Qing paused for a moment and said, “You’re gravely injured and still need to purge the remaining poison. Let’s get out and gather some information first.”

Wei Jing responded with a quiet “Mm” and added, “We’ll leave as soon as the rain stops. If it doesn’t, we’ll go when the day breaks.”
…