Chapter 7: Vast Heaven (2)

In the Imperial Garden, bamboo shadows rustled, the morning light hazy. The forbidden guards were counting the number of palace slaves in Changming Palace. Before the jade steps, rows of people in green clothes and black crowns, with hair coiled and adorned, knelt all over the ground. Young women were continuously taken away, accompanied by the lingering rain, rows of teams winding toward the open palace gates, leaving a trail of sorrow and coldness.

Li Si did not expect such a scene outside, her heart filled with a hundred flavors, and for a moment she forgot to order them to be quiet. Looking up inadvertently, she saw the Nine Princess walking slowly from the end of the corridor, stopping quietly by the tall pillars outside the hall, watching the miserable scene before her.

In the breeze, her black hair almost reached the ground, flowing down along her cloud-silk long clothes, like a light smoke of pale ink, dyeing the magnificent country before her, plain as the sea. The palace eaves rose to pierce the sky, and strands of cloud light pierced through the heavy fog and fell quietly, sprinkling faintly on the white-clothed, plain-faced figure, gradually turning into a blood-like rosy color. She seemed to loathe this inexplicable light, leaning against the pillar and tilting her head slightly, the eyes beneath her half-covered lids indifferent, cold as autumn water and frost.

Li Si stepped forward and called softly: "Princess."

Zi Rao raised her eyes lazily, seeing it was Li Si, a smile appearing silently on her lips: "Li Si, do you still remember that night in Langxuan Palace seven years ago?"

The light words fell, but Li Si's heart seemed to be suddenly gripped by an ice-cold hand. At that moment, her breathing stopped, and the memories sealed for many years surged from the distant abyss like a flood breaking the ice, carrying sharp stones and debris, tearing the healed flesh and blood, dragging people back into darkness and fear.

That night, seven years ago, white curtains were also flying in Langxuan Palace, the long night was about to end, the news of the Xiang Emperor's passing had not yet been announced, and the shadow slaves sent by Chonghua Palace had already broken into Langxuan Palace.

Sword light tore through the silk screens, blood splashed onto the curtains. The guards responsible for protecting Lady Wan and the Nine Princess fell one after another, the terrified screams of the palace slaves turning into blood, freezing on the cold snow-covered courtyard, blooming like scattered plum blossoms.

Li Si hid in the stone cabinet of the Imperial Pharmacy, shrinking in the corner, not daring to make any sound. Through the narrow gap, she watched Eunuch Liao, who had brought her into the palace and hurriedly hidden her here, have his head severed, a stream of hot blood splashing into the cabinet, sliding down her cheeks mixed with tears, becoming the cruelest color every time she woke up from a nightmare.

That night, the white curtains turned into tongues of fire, dancing wildly over the magnificent palace. The Nine Princess, who had fought a bloody path, dropped her long sword before her mother, who was being held hostage, watching the chaotic blades fall, the few remaining guards in the palace dying tragically before her.

Blood like a river, washing over the jade bricks and phoenix patterns, the jade terraces, reflecting the dazzling light of the flames devouring everything. That night the father died and the palace collapsed, that night the family was destroyed and the clan perished. The memory finally stopped at her mother's back, beautiful and peerless, as she stepped onto the divine path of the royal mausoleum. The sacrificial fire burned, burning out the long sky.

Three years of quiet cultivation under the Profound Tower, hatred like a demon suppressed for many years, broke through the earth amidst the mourning of the palace people today. Heaven has no relatives, what benevolence is there? Even if the lives of everyone in Chonghua Palace were poured out, how could it wash away the blood feud of exterminating the clan and killing the mother? Zi Rao's charming eyes gradually filled with cold murderous intent, the blood surging in her body seemed unable to stop, but her hands in her sleeves were as cold as ice.

Suddenly, a weak woman's voice came from the depths of the morning mist, word by word mournful, a desolate ballad:

Heaven is vast, earth is boundless, heaven is cold and earth is frozen, wind blows and grass is yellow.

Heaven gave birth to me, fate is impermanent, earth raised me, the world is sad and cool.

Wild geese flying, I walk beside them, vast heaven, pity my sorrow.

Wild geese mourning, my heart is dying, vast heaven, pity my sorrow...

The singing floated from the depths of the morning mist. At first, it was only one person singing low, but gradually everyone joined in, the sound cutting, sorrowful to the point of death. Zi Rao seemed to be startled awake, listening blankly, and after a long while, a sigh finally turned and fell. She reached out to hold a thread of morning light, her eyes closed, and walked slowly toward the hall.

In the hall, Bocheng Shang was discussing the Cangyuan war with the Eastern Emperor when he saw the Nine Princess walk straight into the hall without a summons. When she bowed gracefully before the throne, her wide skirt trailing like clouds, and looked up, her charm was like smoke.

Bocheng Shang stood up to avoid and bow, but secretly frowned. A woman too enchanting, toppling countries and cities, the lessons of the You and Xiang dynasties were not far away, how could it not be frightening? This Nine Princess from the Witch Clan had been arrogant and domineering since childhood, and even the Empress Dowager was often afraid of her. Now, although she had been imprisoned for many years, she still showed no sign of restraint. I fear this is not a blessing for the country.

Zi Hao stopped speaking, raising his eyes slightly, and looked at Zi Rao quietly for a moment: "Zi Rao, you have cried, what happened?"

Zi Rao reached out to touch her cheek, unexpectedly touching a light, wet trace. She smiled nonchalantly, her red lips slightly parted: "This sister requests the King Brother to show mercy and pardon the palace slaves of the Chonghua and Changming palaces. That memorial from the Imperial Observatory, it is fine not to approve it."

Before the words fell, Bocheng Shang's eyes lifted, the hidden dissatisfaction and vigilance turning into a sharp gaze piercing her body.

Zi Hao leaned on the soft couch, a cup of warm tea in his palm, his face showing no emotion: "Tell me your reasons."

Zi Rao's eyes turned, her phoenix eyes lowered, saying calmly: "Thousands of people crying and wailing together makes one feel annoyed. It would be better to give those shadow slaves from last night a cup of poisoned wine and kill them."

The black jade floor before her was as bright as a mirror, reflecting her clear and soft figure, white clothes spreading like a lotus blooming quietly on the boundless ink, not showing the cold posture she had when dealing with rebels in the Yeting Division last night.

Zi Hao's gaze swept past her, closing his eyes without answering for now. The entire hall was silent. After a moment, he opened his eyes and smiled faintly: "A few days ago, I didn't think you would think so."

Zi Rao narrowed her brows, meeting his gaze, and said softly: "The King Brother does not hold grudges and allows that woman to be buried in the royal mausoleum. Why does she deserve such a grand funeral? Letting thousands of lives go to accommodate her, it would be better for me to do a good deed and accumulate virtue. I just don't know if the King Brother will grant it or not?"

She spoke to him as she pleased, not showing restraint even in front of others, which made Bocheng Shang's brows lock. Zi Hao, however, did not care, looking at her quietly for a moment, then curling his lips into a different meaning: "Good, then I will grant your request." Thunder and rain, all are royal grace, "Pass my edict: the Empress Dowager's funeral will use pottery figurines instead of palace slaves. Everyone related to Chonghua Palace will be sent to the Qishan Imperial Mausoleum, limited to firing pottery figurines and building the underground palace. On the day the work is completed, they will be dismissed and never allowed to step into the Di Du again."

The request was granted, but Zi Rao did not show much joy, just thanking for the royal grace and rising gracefully. Bocheng Shang looked at her, finally unable to help but flick his sleeves and stand up from the desk: "Master, this old minister has a word of advice."

Zi Hao raised his eyes and smiled: "Zhao Gong, please speak."

Bocheng Shang said solemnly: "Master, since the Wangdi established the country and the Qidi moved the capital, the country has lasted for nearly eight hundred years, originally with the feudal lords returning their hearts and the Nine Domains at peace. But since the time of the You Emperor, he successively favored Lady Yao and Lady Li, leading to the neglect of state affairs, and even raised troops for that Lady Li, causing chaos in the Central Plains. When the late Emperor ascended, he first fell in love with a woman of the Witch Clan, and then ordered the Empress to cause chaos in the country for twenty years. A beauty is a disaster, the harm of a woman ruler, does Master not have a painful experience? Now that the chaos has just settled, the Nine Princess is discussing rewards and punishments before the throne and interfering in state affairs. In the future, it is hard to guarantee she will not be the second Lady Li, the second Empress Feng! Moreover, when cutting grass, one must remove the roots. Leaving the lives of the people in Chonghua Palace now, I fear there will be endless trouble in the future. This old minister is deeply worried for my Master!"

Zi Hao lowered his eyes, slowly sipping the clear tea by his side. The tea in the thin porcelain cup was as green as jade, the tender buds floating and sinking. After a long while, the tea cup was put down, and a calm voice rose: "A beauty is a disaster, I don't think so, Zhao Gong is overstating it."

"Master..."

Zi Hao raised his hand slightly, his eyes clear and calm, unable to see joy or anger: "I know Zhao Gong's good intentions. I am not the late King, the people around me have their own constraints, Zhao Gong need not worry."

His words carried an unquestionable majesty, clearly not wanting to discuss this matter again. Zi Rao listened indifferently, a faint smile that was almost invisible at the corners of her lips, staying out of the accusations brought about by her, neither surprised nor angry, as if everything before her had nothing to do with her. But Zi Hao said again: "The war is not yet over, the country is in mourning, many things need to be dealt with urgently, and there is no time to delay. Zhao Gong returns to the court tomorrow, and will act as Prime Minister to supervise the country."

Bocheng Shang was shocked, failing to insist on his previous advice, kneeling down and saying: "Master, this must not be! Master has passed the age of the capping ceremony, and should have long been personally listening to the court and managing state affairs. How can a minister supervise the country? This old minister dare not obey!"

Zi Hao said: "State affairs are complex, and I am weary. Even if I want to govern personally, I have the heart but not the strength. You need not decline again. I give you the power to decide in the Di Du. If there is an emergency in the future, I believe you will never fail the country. Zi Rao, come here and thank Zhao Gong for me." His voice was clear, as if he was already weary. Bocheng Shang looked up in shock, forgetting to speak in his surprise.

Zi Rao glanced at Zi Hao, smiled faintly, stepped forward, gathered her sleeves, lowered her brows, and bowed gracefully before Bocheng Shang. The nobility belonging to the royal family and a trace of ghostly coolness when lowering her brows merged, presenting a strange and cold beauty. This bow was for the country, for him, or for herself? She did not want to distinguish clearly. The white-haired old minister before her did not deserve this solemn gift, and she did not want to go against his painstaking efforts. Fearing her willfulness would offend the court, he paved the way for her and left a backing with this bow. If one day... if there is an emergency... she lowered her eyes and smiled, sighing low. If that day really comes, what does she want these for?

Bocheng Shang hurriedly stepped aside, not daring to overstep and receive the gift. The cold, clear, and piercing eyes of the woman before him were almost unbearable to look at. He suddenly felt that his previous accusations were a bit rash, perhaps truly too abrupt. It was just that once bitten by a snake, one fears the rope for ten years... He looked up at the Eastern Emperor, as if he had something to say, but all his words were frozen before the snow-white complexion and calm gaze. He knelt stiffly for a moment, finally bowing deeply, his old tears streaming down: "This old minister is a guilty person, but Master did not abandon me, allowing me to be in the court and entrusting me with state affairs, trusting me so much. I have received this grace, and even if I were to be smashed to pieces, I could not repay it. I will serve the country with my body, and even if I die ten thousand times, I dare not decline..."

(End of Chapter) ===== CHAPTER 8 =====