Chapter 589

Epilogue · The Dragon and Phoenix Posture (Final)

Li Guanyi's voice landed in Li Zhaowen's ears and heart; in an instant, Li Zhaowen tightened her right hand behind her back, fingernails digging into her palm, the skin slightly whitening—only the faint sting kept her expression calm as ever.

She studied the Qin Huang before her, trying to find traces of his youthful face, but finally only smiled and said: "Your Majesty came to the Western Regions—why not let me know? I could have prepared a proper reception."

Li Guanyi chuckled: "If I do not go, why should you not come?"

Li Zhaowen said nothing, her gaze shifting slightly as she smiled naturally:

"Your Majesty still has the leisure to discuss poetry?"

The Qin Huang made no reply.

The fortune-teller cried out in alarm, hugging his stall and shrinking aside, trembling; Tu Shengyuan, bound in the grass nearby, took one look and knew this was none other than the Grand Master of the Yin-Yang School of the Imperial Academy—who had sealed his own memories and wandered among mortals.

Tu Shengyuan shook his head in disdain.

Why are all the Yin-Yang School folks just clowns?!

Hmph!

A bunch of fools who love watching clowns, yet always end up becoming the clowns themselves.

I refuse to be counted among you!

He lifted his head, then wriggled his body like a caterpillar, trying to slip away unnoticed—but alas, Ling Pingyang had once trained himself in expert binding techniques to drag Wen He back to Jiangnan, and with a thousand-day drunkenness and compound Ma Fei San, Tu Shengyuan had been thoroughly numbed and could not move.

Finally, Duan Qingyu grabbed him by the collar, and he sighed: Fine, can't run anymore. What can I do? What can I do? He began muttering silently to his late wife, without much resistance.

Lady, this isn't my fault—I didn't come to watch this gossip.

It's this brat Duan Qingyu who dragged me here!

In your spirit, this doesn't count as me breaking my promise.

Tu Shengyuan offered little resistance, glancing over—had his mouth not been gagged, he would have already spat out a "tsk," but now he could only let the rag in his mouth wiggle slightly.

The two people over there conversed calmly, laughing and chatting merrily.

Everything followed proper etiquette, no breach of decorum—but the Marquis's gaze clung stubbornly to the Qin Huang; as they walked side by side, his right hand behind his back tapped lightly on the railings along the path, rising and falling like spring wind brushing willows.

Yet he still restrained himself within propriety.

Though they observed the rites of sovereign and minister, the formalities, their eyes still held unbroken affection.

Tu Shengyuan understood eight-tenths of it.

He was battling himself—this thought crossed his mind, and he pieced it together almost perfectly: the Marquis, born noble, how proud—he would never abandon the realm to return to the palace; yet despite that, the bond from their youth, the loyalty through life and death, could not be let go.

He wanted this, and he wanted that.

And he could not give up either.

This Marquis's etiquette, this sovereign-minister formality—this was the final veil protecting his pride, beneath which burned a fire: the most intense affection in all the world.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk!"

Let's see how long that veil lasts before it catches fire.

Tu Shengyuan couldn't help but mutter "tsk, tsk," but his voice didn't carry.

"Mr. Tu, have you thought of something?"

The voice was gentle and sincere, yet Tu Shengyuan froze like a snake had fixed its gaze on him; he didn't want to look, but couldn't help it—he turned slightly and saw Duan Qingyu smiling at him.

Tu Shengyuan shook his head like a rattle drum; Duan Qingyu did not press, only gazed calmly at the two over there and said:

"Most likely, it's because of the Emperor and Empress."

Tu Shengyuan stiffened, staring at Duan Qingyu as if he'd seen a ghost.

Legend says that on the day the Emperor married, the Marquis did not attend; Changsun Wuchou's face had twisted into a grimace just to cover it up.

These two words—Marquis, Empress Xue—and all the tangled affairs of their youth, the retired Lady Yao Guang didn't care, but the Marquis, born into the highest aristocracy, could not possibly ignore them.

Especially not a proud Divine General.

Tu Shengyuan was numb—he felt he had not only spoken what he shouldn't, but now had heard what he shouldn't have.

Is this going to be the end for me?!

Lady, do you really think so little of me?

Old Tu wore a mournful face as he saw Duan Qingyu's smiling lips say: "I happen to have the most thrilling, most fascinating story to tell—would you care to listen, old sir?"

Tu Shengyuan shook his head violently.

Duan Qingyu pulled the cloth from Tu Shengyuan's mouth, his voice as gentle and unassuming as jade: "Then I shall tell the Marquis and the Empress everything you heard today."

Tu Shengyuan's eyes glazed over.

Finally, with a faint, resigned sense of death, he could only laugh helplessly, silent.

"Damn it all!"

Duan Qingyu added: "I swear by my own name—and by the Qin Huang's will—that this will be the most top-tier, thrilling story ever told. Miss it, and you'll regret it for life."

Tu Shengyuan noticed: this time, the strategist used his real name and mentioned the Qin Huang—and he hesitated, saying: "You say… it's the most top-tier story?"

Duan Qingyu said: "The most top-tier since ancient times."

Tu Shengyuan's mind knew: every word this man spoke was a lie—he should have angrily and decisively refused, declared that even if they killed him, he wouldn't agree.

But he had a mouth.

So he heard himself say: "Go on?"

………………

Hooves thundered; soon, the Marquis's Xiyicheng Black Armor Army arrived—the Qin Huang's imperial tour to the Marquis's residence had long been forewarned by the Black Armor scouts.

In Xiyicheng, upon hearing the Qin Huang and the Marquis had returned together, officials at every level felt ripples stir within them, as if a great stone pressed upon their hearts.

The Marquis had not entered Jingcheng for three years to report duty; these officials had all whispered doubts, and now that the Qin Huang and the Marquis returned together, some began wondering: would the Marquis accompany His Majesty back to the capital?

For the old servants of the Marquis's household, the bond between the current Marquis and the Emperor was crystal clear—even without knowing details, they could feel it. Their earlier separation was likely a sulk; now that they met, ice would surely melt.

Then, after the Marquis enters Jingcheng—

Who will succeed to the post of guarding the empire's vast western territories?

When Li Zhaowen's elder brother, Li Jianwen, heard the news, he fell silent for a long time; he had no desire to compete with his sister, but now, with his third brother dead and his father aged, if his sister became an imperial consort and left…

Li Jianwen stared at the cup, and the tea within rippled.

Human hearts are not constant—they shift with circumstances. Many came to visit Li Jianwen, harboring intentions to pledge allegiance; others believed that although Li Jianwen was capable, compared to Li Zhaowen, he was like fireflies beside the bright moon, utterly unequal.

If the title of Western Region Duke were given to Li Jianwen, the Western Region would likely no longer remain as prosperous and stable as it is now; though chaos would not break out, the people's livelihood and the integrity of governance would probably decline somewhat.

But Li Zhaowen had finally met the Qin Huang, and preventing her departure would be inappropriate.

Changsun Wuchou's stomach was almost cramping.

On one side was the position of Duke, the stabilizing pillar of the Western Region, possibly falling into the hands of someone less capable; on the other side was an affection he had pursued for over a decade. Choosing between the two made his belly ache.

Amid this atmosphere, like an undersea current surging, the Qin Huang's crimson Qilin-patterned banner arrived slowly, accompanied by the hoofbeats of the Xuanjia Iron Cavalry, as Xiyicheng welcomed the Emperor's western inspection with the highest honors.

As always, he inspected his ministers' merits and faults, and examined their scholarly and agricultural achievements.

During the night banquet, Li Zhaowen remained composed, leading out the Xuanjia troops to perform the Qin Wang Breaks the Formation Melody, smiling and saying: "Your Majesty, do you still remember when, in your youth, you took enemy generals' heads from amidst ten thousand soldiers? These are the warriors who fought beside you back then."

Li Guanyi said: "All are heroes. Come, drink."

He brought out fine wine and poured it for the many soldiers to drink heartily. At the banquet, Li Guanyi and Li Zhaowen's words and actions adhered strictly to the rites between sovereign and minister. Li Shude glanced at Li Jianwen, then at Li Zhaowen, and understood what had happened.

He sighed deeply.

Li Jianwen lowered his gaze, saying nothing. Among the ministers, some exhaled in relief, others felt resentment; as for those still whispering conspiracy theories—"The Duke has not entered the capital for three years; surely he harbors disloyal thoughts"—there were many.

But it was no surprise: after all, a frontier governor, a guardian of the state, had not entered the capital for three years since the realm was pacified—truly unprecedented.

The night banquet only ceased slightly when the moon reached its zenith. Ministers with weak alcohol tolerance prepared to take their leave, when suddenly a loud splash broke the drowsy mood. Everyone startled, the atmosphere turning slightly icy, all eyes turning toward the source.

They saw Li Jianwen's cup fall to the ground. Then, he exhaled slowly, his gaze flickering before hardening. He rose first, paused, looked at his sister and the Emperor, placed his right palm over his left, and bowed deeply before the ministers, each with their own thoughts, his voice ringing like metal:

"I will not take up the post of Xiyicheng."

His words caused a stir; every minister's drunkenness vanished.

Li Shude's eyes widened.

Li Jianwen said: "The Great Qin has its own system of selection. There are rulers above and officials below to maintain the Western Region's order—it cannot be accomplished by one man alone. I am merely one among many."

"Your Grace, Second Son, you have not visited the capital since reuniting with His Majesty."

"This time, you may go. Do not worry."

He looked at his sister, his voice softening:

"... Do not let the title of Duke trap you, Second Sister."

Li Zhaowen fell silent. Li Jianwen turned and strode away, his gaze sweeping over the officials who had visited him beforehand, making them all feel a chill inside and silently curse themselves—for they had never imagined that the elder brother of the current Duke of Li was no mere fool.

The ministers dispersed, feigning drunkenness to take their leave one by one.

Some bold ones, who had not taken sides, tried to eavesdrop at the front, but were punched and kicked out by Changsun Wuchou.

Listen? Listen to what?!

Li Zhaowen lowered her eyes and smiled naturally: "Brother truly wants me to report to the capital? Your Majesty, the drinking is done. These noisy, bothersome voices—my Duke's residence has pleasant scenery. Please, follow me."

Both the Qin Huang and the Duke possessed supreme Wu Gong; unless it was a thousand-day drunkenness, ordinary fine wine had no effect on either of them.

Li Guanyi dressed in imperial regalia: golden crown binding his hair, sleeves embroidered with gold thread depicting sun, moon, and stars, jade belt around his waist, a sword hanging at his side; Li Zhaowen wore the full ceremonial attire of a Duke—her hairpin and robe ranked one level below Li Guanyi's, yet still radiated noble grandeur.

The two walked through the moonlit garden, the bright moon above, casually chatting about the world of old and their youth in Jiangnan. Li Zhaowen held her hands behind her back, fingers slightly curled, holding a wine jar. Suddenly she smiled:

"Tonight's scenery is perfect. Your Majesty, do you remember when, in Jiangzhou City, we ran beneath this same moonlight? That was when I learned you were Li Guanyi."

"In the blink of an eye, over a decade has passed."

"Life truly is like a white horse passing through a crevice—suddenly, it's gone."

Li Zhaowen extended her left hand, her pale palm trembling slightly in the night, as if stirring the moonlight like a lake. Her profile bore a touch of melancholy, restrained; her gaze fixed on Li Guanyi, then on the night-lit expanse of Xiyicheng. Finally, she said:

"Your Majesty, it is late. We should depart…"

The bright moon hung in the sky. No one around.

Changsun Wuchou squatted outside the Duke's residence, frowning in distress.

Li Shude patted Li Jianwen's shoulder and sighed. Li Jianwen said nothing. The other ministers each harbored their own private calculations; the atmosphere grew heavy.

Only Master Wen Qingyu sat there, eating Western Region fruits, slowly counting the time.

Suddenly, a dragon's roar echoed through the air, like thunder shaking the land, instantly dispelling the mood—and naturally drawing all eyes upward. Even drowsy civilians were jolted awake, looking up to see, in the long night, scales like a fiery hell, gliding between the moonlight.

As the people gasped in shock, a deep, powerful voice rang out.

"Speak of fate, speak of fate—what defines it? Where is the heart?"

"Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!"

"Do not err!"

"Do not err!"

"Hahaha! I am but a drifting leaf, a storyteller. Today, all you listeners are here—so let me tell a fine tale."

"Today, we won't speak of the mad swordsman Mu Zi Yi, who with a three-foot blade dared turn heaven and earth upside down, nor of the Wolf King's roar, his dominion over the land. Today, we speak of a bond—a true friendship!"

"One, a scion of the imperial blood, phoenix-like; the other, a coiled dragon, hiding claws and fangs."

The voice was ancient and loud, yet carried an undeniable grandeur—as if the greatest storyteller in history were recounting a vast tale, and doing so brilliantly, laying bare the events of over a decade past with perfect clarity.

Li Jianwen exclaimed in shock: "It's about my sister and the Emperor's past! Who is this man…?!!"

"Who dares be so bold?!"

Li Shude's eyes gleamed, and he burst into laughter: "Hahaha! Good! Good!"

"The greatest storyteller since ancient times!"

"Hahaha! Wonderful!"

The dragon's roar shook the four directions.

Tu Shengyuan sat atop the Crimson Dragon, wind rushing against his face, loudly telling his tale, his heart pounding—damn, sitting atop a Crimson Dragon in Xiyicheng, telling the story of the Qin Huang and the Duke's past friendship—damn, this was too thrilling!

Admittedly, this matter is very dangerous, and one careless slip would turn it into a laughingstock.

Therefore, this matter naturally—

Truly, it makes one unable to—

Refuse!

He had also asked the Taigu Chilong why he agreed.

The Taigu Chilong said that Li Guanyi had promised him that once this matter was done, they would join forces with Li Zhao Wen to fight him for three days and three nights in the Western Regions desert!

The Taigu Chilong said: "So I agreed!"

Tu Shengyuan could not help but laugh: "What a muscle-headed..."

He caught the threat in the Taigu Chilong's eyes.

Tu Shengyuan's mouth finally learned its lesson this time: "Auspicious omen!!"

The Taigu Chilong was satisfied.

Tu Shengyuan's mood was now carefree and pleasant. Seeing the vast Western Regions below, the lamps of the human world, he cast all consequences to the wind, and so slapped his gavel against the void, summoned up his Grandmaster aura, and laughed aloud, his voice carrying outward: "Li Zhao Wen, Li Zhao Wen!"

"In these chaotic times, whose grace!"

"Upon the mountain ranges, thrice I asked."

"You have suffered disappointment today, but do you still remember, the Third Covenant!!!"

His voice vast and far-reaching, Li Zhao Wen halted her steps, her gaze flickering. Finally she looked toward Qin Huang, and at last she sighed and said: "Is this also arranged by Your Majesty? Why must you force my hand?"

"I had already resolved to preserve the friendship of those years, to keep the line between us clear as a river's edge, but why..."

Li Zhao Wen closed her eyes briefly, exhaled a breath, and said:

"Brother Li, if you would, the Third Covenant."

Qin Huang nodded: "Second son, speak!"

The phoenix-like woman looked at him and said softly:

"Hold your inner breath still. You may not circulate your art, you may not resist, you may not strike back!"

Li Guanyi, as promised, halted the circulation of the inner qi throughout his body. In but an instant, he saw the woman stride forward, her sleeves billowing, extending her palm. Her hand passed through the clear moonlight, just like the smiling, carefree young girl in men's clothes from over a decade ago.

She only seized the collar of the Emperor and yanked him over with a fierce pull.

The touch upon his lips was warm and overbearing.

Beneath the moonlight, a kiss sealed it.

A pair of phoenix eyes shone bright.

She stepped back one pace. The fingers accustomed to gripping a sword brushed across her lips, and crimson rouge instantly bloomed and spread, like a phoenix's tail feathers. She wore the splendid robes of a Duke of the First Rank, yet in the corners of her eyes and the arch of her brows there was an indescribable Mu Zi Yi and ease. She said with regret:

"Why must you force my hand? Emperor, you know my temperament."

"I held myself in check for a very long time, truly strove very hard to hold myself in check, before I could keep myself constrained within the identity of a Duke who observes propriety and follows the histories. Now..."

Li Guanyi was stunned, realizing that the matter he had anticipated had gone awry.

Li Zhao Wen leaned forward slightly and offered a bow.

Then, taking hold of the sun, moon, and stars upon the Emperor's collar, she smiled and said:

"Your Majesty, this minister has had quite enough of the red tape and empty rites!"

She swept out her sleeve.

A phoenix cried out and soared into the long sky.

The three hundred-odd lamps of the Duke's residence were snuffed out at once. Ministers and attendants alike were sent flying outward by this surge of vigorous qi. The Duke carried the Emperor into the residence, and as she departed, her eyes lifted, looking toward the sky with a half-smile that was not quite a smile.

Tu Shengyuan's smile stiffened slightly, and his scalp went numb.

Something was off!

Time to slip away!

Jiangnan won't do, the seas won't do, the Western Regions won't do. It can't be helped, it can't be helped; this time he must head for the Central Plains, to the mountain ridges where the former Chen and Ying kingdoms met, the place where the jianghu sects lingered!

As expected of me, steady!

Under heaven, in the Western Regions, the rumor that the Duke of the Western Regions was about to rebel, that he harbored disloyal intentions—calm and still. If one were to speak of the reason...

"Chew, chew..."

Sa Atandi, gnawing on a large date, held her brush, counted the time on her fingers, and then upon the scroll reserved for historians, set her brush to paper like a blade, writing as follows:

【Third Year of Taiping, Spring. The Emperor toured the Western Regions and lodged at night in the Duke's residence.】

【He emerged only after seven days.】

—"Historical Biographies: Basic Annals, Volume One"