Chapter 58
When Mark and Song Ling arrived in the capital, it was a scene of devastation. White mourning banners hung from the city walls, and charred ruins stretched as far as the eye could see. Except for the imperial palace, almost every building had been destroyed. The faces of the soldiers and citizens were grim as they cleared the debris from the battle.
Mark and Song Ling’s hearts sank. They hadn’t expected the situation to be so dire. They made their way through the city, inquiring about what had happened, piecing together the events from the accounts of the survivors. When Song Ling heard that the former Empress had sacrificed herself to save them, her legs almost gave way.
Mark quickly caught her and helped her towards the palace gates, where they encountered Grand General Duoluo. The general, seeing them, approached them, holding a long, ornate wooden box.
“Doctor Song, Mark, what are you doing here?”
“General Duoluo, where’s Jun’er? Is she with you?”
Song Ling’s voice was frantic, her question ignoring his greeting. The general remained silent, his gaze lowered to the box in his hands. He offered it to Song Ling, who took it hesitantly, her heart pounding with dread. She opened the box, and a wave of grief washed over her.
Inside was a Japanese sword, a star engraved on its hilt. It was the sword Grand General Duoluo had given to Li Xinjun, a sword she had always carried with her. Its presence in the general’s hands meant only one thing: Li Xinjun was gone.
“We found this among the bodies. It was Jun’er’s sword. I wanted to bury it with her in her cenotaph. Since you’re here, I’ll give it to you.”
“Cenotaph?”
“Yes. All the bodies were burned beyond recognition. The Emperor couldn’t bear the thought of Jun’er not having a proper burial, so he decided to build a cenotaph for her. The coffin in the palace is empty. You can keep the sword as a memento or bury it with her.”
Song Ling clutched the sword, tears streaming down her face. She had arrived too late. She hadn’t been there when Li Xinjun needed her most.
“Grandfather, can you tell me what happened to Jun’er?”
“You should ask Brother Wu and the others. I wasn’t there when it happened. If you want to know the details, go to the palace and ask them.”
Song Ling and Mark, their hearts heavy with grief, entered the palace. The palace gates were open to the public today, a rare occurrence. They noticed the citizens coming and going but were too preoccupied with their own sorrow to pay much attention.
They walked towards the grand hall and saw a white jade coffin in the center. The coffin, exquisite and gleaming, reflected the respect and love the people held for Li Xinjun. Citizens, their faces solemn, lined up to approach the coffin, placing flowers inside as a tribute.
Song Ling, her heart aching, approached the coffin and looked inside. Li Xinjun’s clothes and boots were arranged neatly in the center, surrounded by flowers.
She felt a tightness in her chest, her breath catching in her throat. She stared at the coffin, her mind numb with grief. Hongli, noticing them, approached Song Ling.
“Doctor Song, before she died, Xinjun asked me to tell you that she loved you.”
His voice brought Song Ling back to reality. She turned to face him, her tears flowing freely as she saw the redness in his eyes, evidence of his own grief.
“Did she say anything else?”
“No, that was all. My condolences.”
“How did she die? Jun’er was a jiangshi! She’s immortal! She can’t die so easily! Are you sure there hasn’t been a mistake?”
“I know she was a jiangshi, but she’s gone. I saw her perish in the fire. There’s no mistake.”
“Why?! Why did this happen?! This can’t be true! I don’t believe it! I don’t believe it!”
Hongli recounted the events of that fateful night, explaining how Li Xinjun had sacrificed herself to protect the palace and its inhabitants from the horde of jiangshi. Song Ling listened, her heart shattering. She knew Hongli wasn’t lying. This was exactly the kind of selfless act Li Xinjun would do.
Although Li Xinjun often seemed indifferent to the world, she never hesitated to stand up for what she believed in, even if it meant sacrificing herself. And even though jiangshi were immortal, fire was their weakness. Even the most powerful beings couldn’t escape its wrath.
Song Ling hadn’t expected this outcome. She wept uncontrollably, her grief overwhelming. She donned mourning clothes and, as Li Xinjun’s wife, paid her respects, accompanying her on her final journey.
Seven days later, the entire nation mourned as Li Xinjun’s jade coffin was transported to a newly built tomb outside the capital. Although the tomb had been hastily constructed, it was a magnificent structure, a testament to the love and respect the people held for Li Xinjun.
The tomb was elegant and grand, its beauty reflecting Li Xinjun’s spirit. As the coffin was lowered into the ground, the people, led by the Emperor, knelt and bowed, paying their respects to the hero who had sacrificed her life for them.
After the burial ceremony, the crowd dispersed, leaving only Song Ling, Mark, Brother Wu, Ah Qi, Grand General Duoluo, Hongli, and his personal guards.
“Jun’er wouldn’t want us to grieve like this. We should live our lives to the fullest, to honor her sacrifice.”
Grand General Duoluo’s voice was heavy with sorrow. He then left with Brother Wu and Ah Qi. Hongli, watching them leave, sighed and approached Song Ling, placing a hand on her shoulder. He then left as well, leaving her alone with her grief.
Mark remained silent, observing her from a distance, allowing her to grieve in peace. Song Ling traced the characters on the tombstone with her finger, her gaze fixed on the inscription: “Li Xinjun.” Memories of their time together flooded her mind.
She remained at the tomb for seven days, refusing to eat or drink. Mark brought her blood, but she declined, yet she didn’t show any signs of hunger or lose control. She simply sat there, her eyes fixed on the tombstone.
Finally, after seven days, she stood up and bowed three times before turning to face Mark, who had been patiently waiting for her.
“Mark, thank you for everything you’ve done for us. Now that Jun’er is gone, I think it’s time for us to part ways.”
“Aren’t you coming back to Britain with me?”
“No, I want to travel the world, to see the places Jun’er and I always wanted to visit.”
“And then what? You know that we’re both immortal now. You can travel the world, but you’ll never age or die. It will never end. Where will you go then?”
“I don’t know. I’ll figure it out when I get there. Maybe I’ll come find you.”
“Alright. You can always find me, no matter where I am. Even if I have to leave, I’ll leave a trail for you to follow.”
“Thank you, Mark.”
Song Ling woke up with a start, tears clinging to her eyelashes. It wasn’t a dream. Those events had happened, centuries ago. The world was different now. There was no Qing Dynasty, no Emperor. This was an era of technology and progress.
She got out of bed and walked to the window, pulling back the curtains and looking out at the bustling city below. She had lived a solitary life, her identity changing over the centuries: a countess in Britain, a battlefield medic in World War I, a spy in World War II, a resistance fighter in China, a shopkeeper, a chef in France, and now, the CEO of Lingjun Corporation.
She picked up the remote control and turned on the TV, then went to the kitchen and retrieved a bag of fresh O-negative blood from the refrigerator. She poured the blood into a glass, warmed it in a bowl of hot water, and then, after a few minutes, took it back to the living room and sat down on the sofa, watching TV.
The news was reporting on entertainment gossip. Song Ling, uninterested, browsed her phone while half-heartedly watching the screen. A group of reporters were at the airport, hounding a newly arrived actress. She was a Chinese-American who had recently been discovered by a famous local director and cast as the lead in a big-budget time-travel film.
The film had been a box office hit, both domestically and internationally. As it was the actress’s debut, little was known about her. The paparazzi, hearing that she was arriving at the Beijing airport, had flocked there to get a glimpse of her.
Song Ling, intrigued, looked up at the screen, curious to see what the actress looked like. Her heart skipped a beat. The actress, wearing sunglasses, bore a striking resemblance to Li Xinjun.
She quickly put down her phone, turned up the volume, and stared at the screen. The actress’s name was Li Mo. She had been an architecture student in the United States before being discovered by Director Xu, who had been captivated by her unique aura and cast her as the lead in his film.
Song Ling couldn’t take her eyes off her. It was the first time she had encountered someone who looked so much like Li Xinjun. Her heart raced. She hadn’t felt this way in centuries. Whether this woman was Li Xinjun or simply a look-alike, she had to meet her.
“Hello, I need you to acquire Pinnacle Entertainment. Yes, Pinnacle Entertainment. I don’t care how you do it. You have one week.”
She hung up the phone and then searched for information about Li Mo online.
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