Chapter 822

"I thought we were at least friends." This was the opening of the letter, identical to the note she left on the Emperor's desk.

The Emperor held the letter in his hand, silent for a long while.

Wang Zhen stood beside him, face filled with concern, yet his gaze darkened, trying to see through the thin paper to the words within.

But the Emperor was now hypersensitive; even if he wished to, he dared not draw closer, and could only wait for another opportunity.

"I never regarded you as an enemy, even though you always stood in my way;

I never saw you as a foe, even though I lost my family, was forced from home as a child, and wandered in exile because of you;

I understand you, for you, like me, lost your parents young, grew up without parental protection; being Emperor is hard—far harder than being a good Daoist Priest—so though I do not agree with you, I remain loyal to you;

As a subject of the Great Ming, I could not bear to see my own people slaughtered; I joined the campaign against the Japanese pirates, pursued vengeance to their homeland, and I thought you may have said nothing aloud, but our hearts were the same;

When I saw treasures abroad, the first thought that came to me was of my sovereign and my nation; I always wished for you to be better;

I was born human, so I rage at injustice, grieve at suffering; my Emperor, if you truly cannot bear to see me again, then govern this land well—let even the poorest beggar, the lowliest convict, receive fairness and justice in this world; let every subject's labor bring them prosperity—then perhaps we shall never meet again;

Isn't it painful to keep hearing you're no longer a friend, to see people who are no longer friends?"

"Yet still, I regard you as a friend worth having, my Emperor."

The Emperor sat stunned in his chair, slowly closing the letter after a long while, folding it piece by piece, his voice hoarse: "Bring the men back."

The Imperial Guard Commander gasped: "Your Majesty, Pan Yun broke into the inner palace…"

"I said bring the men back," the Emperor said sternly. "I will not pursue this matter."

Wang Zhen grew even more curious about the letter in the Emperor's hand.

At that moment, Pan Yun stood facing the wind inside the Sanbao Cauldron; Mei Zhen and the others were clinging to the pot's rim, blowing the small winds summoned by the array, asking: "Little Master Shu, did you really think the Emperor would drop the charges against Lord Pan and our Master if you wrote that?"

Pan Yun: "Probably. The Emperor is a man of feeling."

Mei He asked curiously: "Then what you wrote in the letter—was it true, or a lie?"

Pan Yun stared at the flickering stars in the void, silent.

Xue Shao knew her letter, plain and unadorned, lacking literary flair, was her truest emotion.

So that's why she was hurting?

Xue Shao gazed with her at the ever-closer stars, his heart also heavy.

A friend who was hardly a friend—but he was their sovereign.

A sovereign's failure is like losing a piece of one's heart; the pain is no less than losing a closest friend.

When he learned the Emperor's stance on the two cases, Xue Shao fell silent; Pan Yun had been cheerfully watching the drama, and he thought she was unbothered—but she, too, could be wounded.

"Little Red," Pan Yun whispered, "I may not be able to let you receive justice openly. Some enemies must be settled by violence."

Little Red burst out laughing.

Everyone turned to look at her.

Little Red, tied to Hong Yan, shrugged: "I'd welcome it—cutting down enemies myself is far more satisfying than waiting for the courts to decide. I don't understand why you're all so sad."

Pan Yun perked up and smiled: "Alright, my mistake—I forgot people are different."

Little Red pondered a moment, then said: "Are you mocking me?"

"No, absolutely not!"

"I think you are—don't you think my views aren't those of a good citizen?" Pan Yun: "I never said that. Besides, you're already a ghost—what good citizen are you supposed to be?"

"It's because of you! Every time you're about to do something bad, you mutter about being a good citizen—I'm sure your earlier words were mocking me!"

Mei Zhen hurried to defend Little Master Shu, but Mei He said: "I think Little Red is right…"

Laughter and bickering erupted; the small Sanbao Cauldron buzzed with noise again, the earlier solemn mood dissolving instantly.

Xue Shao couldn't help smiling, turning back to gaze at the stars, his heavy heart lifting at once.

Pan Yun and the others rode the Sanbao Cauldron across the land, waiting for the Imperial Academy to open and for the Prince of Lu to return to Yanzhou.

By March, they received word and intercepted the Prince of Lu and his son on the road.

March third was the Shangsi Festival—a beautiful holiday—and they decided not to let the Prince of Lu die on this day.

The Prince of Lu, gloomy, hearing the laughter outside his carriage, angrily flung open the window—and saw a group of youths and maidens running ahead of his procession, holding kites.

They raced onto the grass, sprinting, and the kites slowly rose into the sky.

Seeing his frown, the guard quickly explained: "Your Highness, today is the Shangsi Festival."

The Prince of Lu followed the kite strings into the sky, his depression deepening.

Because his father was reckless, he had spent his life cultivating his reputation—only to suffer this fate in old age. Though all blame fell on Sun Xin, the way the court officials looked at him…

Few believed him.

He wondered how they would speak of him afterward, what words they would leave behind…

The Prince of Lu slammed the curtain shut with a snap: "Hurry—no stopping."

Because he pulled the curtain too quickly, he did not see Pan Yun and the others racing across the grass, tugging their kites.

The third day of the third month was the Shangsi Festival, a beautiful holiday, and they decided not to let the Prince of Lu die on this day.

The Prince of Lu, gloomy and listless, hearing the laughter and cheers outside the carriage, impatiently pushed open the window and saw a group of youths and maidens sprinting ahead of their convoy, holding kites in their hands.

The crowd ran onto the grassland, sprinting about, until the kites gradually rose into the air.

Seeing him frown, the guard quickly explained: "Your Highness, today is the Shangsi Festival."

The Prince of Lu followed the strings upward to the kites floating in midair, and grew even more despondent.

Because his father had been absurd, he had spent his entire life cultivating his reputation, only to suffer this fate in old age; though all blame had been borne solely by Sun Xin, the looks the court officials gave him…

Few probably believed him.

He wondered how those people would speak of him afterward, and what words they would leave behind…

The Prince of Lu slammed the curtain shut with a snap and said grimly: "Ride hard, no stops."

And because he had pulled the curtain shut too quickly, he did not see Pan Yun and the others racing across the grassland, tugging their kites.

He had seen Pan Yun's portrait before, so he would definitely recognize her if he saw her.