Chapter 62: Eternal Encounter Song (Part 1)
A carriage stopped at the edge of the crowd. Spring snow fell like willow catkins, its pure white melting into the bloodstain. Prince Jia, glancing at the execution platform from inside the carriage, immediately turned back and knelt, trembling, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists.
His eyes reddened, tears welling up.
“Yong Geng, today, I finally dare to pay my respects to him.”
His teacher’s words echoed in his ears. Prince Jia burst into tears.
Li Xi Zhen’s eyes were moist, but she remained seated, not reaching out to comfort him. The wind and snow swept through the carriage window, cold and biting. She looked at the mournful crowd in the swirling mist, many young scholars in plain robes kneeling and weeping at the foot of the platform. “Your Highness, Minister Zhang had countless students. Even those young people who never met him, as long as they read his poems and essays, heard about his life, they would respectfully call him ‘Teacher.’ They weep for him, they cry out for justice for him. What about Your Highness? He was your teacher. Besides weeping for him, don’t you feel any injustice in your heart?”
Prince Jia looked at her with tear-filled eyes.
“Your Highness, I want to ask you, now that you know the person who treated you best, who was your friend, died unjustly, doesn’t your heart ache? Your teacher dared to sacrifice his life to honor his innocence. What about Your Highness?”
Li Xi Zhen looked at him. “Are you still leaving Yun Jing?”
“I…”
Prince Jia’s hands clenched beneath his sleeves.
“If I were Your Highness, bearing the weight of these two lives,” Li Xi Zhen said, emphasizing each word, “I would rather die than leave Yun Jing.”
If he left, who would care about the name Xu He Xue? Who would clear his name? The current Emperor? Tears welled up in Prince Jia’s eyes.
But this Emperor had just executed his most respected teacher.
The blood on the execution platform was still fresh.
Heavy snow blanketed Yun Jing, falling thick and fast within the imperial city. Meng Yun Xian knelt outside Qing He Palace until his knees were stiff and numb, but he couldn’t get an audience with Emperor Zheng Yuan.
“Minister Meng, be careful.”
Pei Zhi Yuan, his usual smile gone, supported Meng Yun Xian as they descended the white jade steps. Meng Yun Xian stumbled, and Pei Zhi Yuan quickly steadied him, preventing him from falling down the long staircase.
Meng Yun Xian crouched at the bottom of the white jade railing, one hand gripping his cane, his shoulders trembling.
Pei Zhi Yuan crouched behind him, his heart filled with grief. He suppressed his emotions and called softly, “Minister Meng…”
“He sought death.”
Meng Yun Xian choked out the words. “I thought that with the clue from the Yongzhou letter, he would endure and compromise before the Emperor today. He would listen to me, not provoke the Emperor. I thought he would cherish his life a little more…”
“Before he went to Qing He Palace, he told me that after seeing the Emperor today, he would go with me to East Street to get a shave. I thought he had finally forgiven me, I thought that because of this clue, he would finally talk to me properly, like before, that we could work together to seek justice for his best student.”
Tears welled up in Meng Yun Xian’s eyes. “But Min Xing, he lied to me. He had already resolved to die, that’s why he said those words to deceive me.”
Now, Meng Yun Xian finally understood why Zhang Jing had been provoking the Emperor lately. Whether it was the memorial from Zhou Wen Zheng, the Transport Commissioner of Wanjiang, about replacing private banknotes with government-issued ones, or his disrespect in Qing He Palace today, it was all part of his plan.
He used words no one dared to utter to provoke the Emperor, words the Emperor hated to hear the most to entice him. Even though the Emperor’s schemes were deep and unfathomable, he had become accustomed to his edicts being absolute, his subjects obeying without question. Zhang Jing forcing the Emperor to issue a self-incriminating edict was a direct affront to his pride.
Zhang Jing had deliberately led the Emperor step by step into an abyss of fury. He had handed the Emperor the knife, wanting him to lose control and kill him.
Meng Yun Xian and Zhang Jing had been friends for many years. Even though they hadn’t exchanged a single letter during their fourteen years of demotion and exile, Meng Yun Xian now understood why Zhang Jing had done this.
“A single letter from Yongzhou wasn’t enough evidence, and Du Cong was dead, making it impossible to clear General Yu Jie’s name. Chong Zhi, he used his death to ask the world to re-examine his student’s name. His students and disciples are everywhere. His dying words will be remembered. As long as someone is willing to look at the name Xu He Xue again, as long as someone has doubts because of his dying words, he has won.”
“He knew Prince Jia’s character, and he knew that even I couldn’t change his mind. He also used his death to manipulate Prince Jia.”
Zhang Jing knew how much Prince Jia valued him as his teacher, so he let Prince Jia witness the Emperor, whom he feared, execute his teacher.
Xu He Xue’s injustice, Zhang Jing’s death, were like two mountains that would forever weigh on Prince Jia’s shoulders. Would he retreat, or would he move forward?
Zhang Jing had also manipulated Emperor Zheng Yuan, taking advantage of his headache to push him into a frenzy. Meng Yun Xian knew that when the Emperor in Qing He Palace woke up, he would certainly regret the edict he issued today.
Zhang Jing was originally a knife he intended to use, a tool to intimidate the imperial clan. With Zhang Jing’s widespread reputation and countless admirers, Emperor Zheng Yuan had pardoned him from exile and appointed him Vice Minister, intending to demonstrate his benevolence.
Killing Zhang Jing would alienate the people.
At this juncture, Emperor Zheng Yuan could no longer casually proceed with the Mount Tai ceremony.
“Perhaps Minister Zhang never blamed you.”
Pei Zhi Yuan’s eyes moistened slightly. “When he broke ties with you back then, it was because he was afraid that further interaction would incur the Emperor’s displeasure, resulting not in demotion, but the same fate as him…”
Only now did Pei Zhi Yuan finally understand the seemingly divergent yet deeply connected bond between the two ministers.
Meng Yun Xian’s heart ached even more. He gripped his cane tightly, remembering the words “A benevolent ruler has upright ministers” he had once said to Zhang Jing. From then on, Zhang Jing understood his thoughts.
If the ruler wasn’t benevolent, the new policies would be hopeless.
Meng Yun Xian had realized this during his fourteen years of demotion. If the Emperor wasn’t sincere about implementing the new policies, but merely using them as political tools, then the new policies would fail, again and again.
Meng Yun Xian had long since given up on the current Emperor.
After returning to Yun Jing, the matters he discussed were mostly inconsequential.
“Chong Zhi understood me…”
Meng Yun Xian covered his face and wept, snowflakes falling on his hair. “Chong Zhi understood me…”
The vibrant colors of the imperial city were muted by the falling snow and swirling mist. The sunlight on the eaves was weak, resembling the depths of winter rather than the vibrancy of spring.
Zhang Jing’s body was collected by He Tong and the others. Ni Su, holding the ball of light that seemed about to dissipate at any moment, followed behind them.
She couldn’t enter the Zhang residence, so she stood outside with the weeping scholars for a while. Night fell quickly, but the snow continued.
She stood for a long time, snowflakes accumulating on her clothes, her body stiff with cold. She wondered why this world could sometimes be so cold.
So cold that ice formed in her bones.
On the way back to Nan Huai Street, the streetlights were sparse. She carefully protected the ball of light in her arms, carrying it back to the clinic.
Opening the door to his room, Ni Su found all the incense and candles and lit them one by one, filling the room with light. She then sat at the table, gazing intently at the ball of light, hoping it would transform into his form.
But it didn’t.
“Xu Zi Ling.”
She held it, calling his name several times.
It remained a faint ball of light, suspended in her palm.
In the boundless silence, Ni Su looked at the desk opposite her. A kite lay on top. She stood up, walked over, and picked it up.
It was an oriole.
He had personally carved the bamboo strips, personally painted it. From its frame to its form, it was beautiful in every detail.
He often sat alone, quietly reading, or making kites under the eaves, like a handful of cold snow that the sun couldn’t melt.
Ni Su sat down at the desk, the lamplight illuminating her. Her sash snagged on a box beside her. The box was rectangular, designed to hold scrolls, but the clasp wasn’t fastened securely.
She put down the kite, unhooked her sash from the clasp, and opened the box. Inside lay a painting.
Ni Su recognized it as the one she and Xu Zi Ling had painted during their boat ride on Yong’an Lake. She had personally had it framed.
Ni Su reached out and touched it.
After a while, she took it out of the box, untied the ribbon, and spread it out on the desk.
She remembered every detail of the painting, remembered him beside her that day, using the brush she had given him, capturing the scenery of the lake.
The green willows by Yong’an Lake, the shimmering water, the pleasure boats, the flocks of birds…
But now, her gaze fell on Xie Chun Pavilion in the painting. The pavilion should have been empty, yet now, a woman’s silhouette had been added.
She was wearing the same clothes as Ni Su, her hair styled in the same way, a fruit drink in her hand.
Even the stray strands of hair by her ear, lifted by the wind, were clearly depicted.
Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks.
In the bright lamplight, Ni Su raised her hand, and the floating, pale white light settled back into her palm.
She remembered the execution platform today, remembered Zhang Jing’s words, remembered Xu Zi Ling desperately throwing himself in front of his teacher.
She suddenly realized that the falling blade had not only taken his teacher’s life, but had killed him again.
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