Chapter 252: Extra Story Of The Previous Life – Snow Melts, People Depart

1) Punishment

The stars flickering in the night sky dimmed under the gradually brightening eastern horizon.
The autumn chill was heavy with frost.

At the entrance of a narrow, secluded path flanked by vermilion palace walls, a group of people held their breath in tense silence. Not a single sound was made. Even as dew gathered on their hair and brows, no one dared to wipe it away.

Xie Wei had been standing for a long time, his body chilled to the bone.
The dim light of dawn reflected in his deep, silent eyes like it had fallen into a dark, still pool—without a ripple.

When Yan Lin emerged from Kunning Palace, the scent of wine still lingered on him, but he was fully sober.
His great vengeance had been fulfilled, and military power was now in his hands.

The young general, who should have been triumphant, instead looked disheveled and almost despondent, lost. His robe was in disarray. As he drew closer, one could see a faint, scabbed scratch on his cheek.

What exactly had he done last night…
Those tear-filled eyes, full of pain and pleading, suddenly flashed through his mind again.

Yan Lin stumbled a step.
His face had lost all color.

The commander of a rebel force, after imprisoning the former empress, now walked out of Kunning Palace at dawn, disheveled—what that implied was self-evident.

When Xie Wei saw him, even the corner of his eye twitched slightly.
It was hard to say whether it was more disappointment or deeper fury.

As Yan Lin approached and stood before the mist-shrouded palace gate, Xie Wei grabbed a long staff from someone nearby and struck him hard across the back!

The blow was heavy.
Yan Lin didn’t dodge or resist. He staggered and tasted blood in his throat.

He looked at Xie Wei. “Brother…”

Xie Wei’s face showed no emotion. He simply said, “Kneel.”

Yan Lin clenched his jaw, his eyes reddening with stubbornness. He shouted, “She betrayed me first! What did I do wrong? Everything that happened today—she brought it on herself!”

Xie Wei’s eyes turned cold.
This time, he struck directly at the back of Yan Lin’s knees and shouted sternly, “Kneel!”

The two faced off in the palace corridor, neither yielding.
The surrounding guards didn’t dare glance sideways, inwardly shaken by what this scene foretold.

Over the years, through the fall of Huangzhou and the bloodshed at the borders, it had always been Xie Wei supporting everything from behind.
An elder brother is like a father.

Yan Lin looked at him for a long time. In the end, he couldn’t ignore the panic and confusion he had felt when walking out of that bedchamber—as if the one who had done wrong wasn’t her, but himself. He finally knelt.

His body, honed by hardship and war, was tall and lean. His face, once youthful, had been weathered into something sharp and resolute.
Kneeling on the dew-soaked stone slabs, he looked like a statue.

But Xie Wei was unmoved. He threw the staff to the ground and said coldly, “She is the Empress! The teachings of our ancestors and the will of the sages—were they meant for you to do this? Public opinion is dangerous. The former dynasty is unstable. If you truly want her dead, then go on.”

Yan Lin said nothing.

Xie Wei turned to the others and ordered, “Beat him. Thirty strikes under military law. Let him take it himself!”

With that, he turned and left, his sleeves sweeping behind him.

Just a few weeks ago, Zhou Yinzhi’s head had still been nailed to the palace gate with a long iron spike.
The bloodstains above had yet to be fully cleaned.

Yan Lin remained kneeling, tall and straight.
The others exchanged glances. After a moment, someone finally muttered, “Forgive me, General,” and raised the staff to begin the punishment.

Only the sound of the staff striking could be heard.
The young general clenched his fists tightly and never made a sound.

2) Killing Intent

The desk was piled high with documents.
Xie Wei didn’t flip through a single page.

When Lü Xian arrived, he saw Xie Wei holding a bow, an arrow already nocked and fully drawn. Just as Lü Xian stepped through the door, Xie Wei’s slender fingers released the string. With a sharp whoosh, the feathered arrow shot out and embedded itself deep into one of the wooden compartments of the bookshelf, shaking the books on it until they tumbled down.

Others dared not speak recklessly, fearing for their heads. But Lü Xian was different. He had already heard from the servants about Yan Lin’s punishment. Seeing Xie Wei like this, he could tell his mood was far from pleasant.

The words circled in his mind.
He considered them carefully before speaking:
“Everyone can see what the young lord is thinking. Though you are his elder brother, punishing him like this today will surely create a rift.”

Xie Wei put away the bow and looked at the still-quivering arrow shaft. He said coldly,
“If he weren’t Yan, for such recklessness—I would have killed him today.”

3) Memory

After bathing half the court in blood, the name Xie Wei alone had become a shadow looming over the capital.

There were endless matters to handle, and every day someone suffered misfortune.

Only a few knew about Yan Lin’s punishment within the palace—it hadn’t spread. He seemed to realize it was inappropriate as well, for in the following weeks, he never once stepped foot in Kunning Palace again.

But unexpectedly, a fool named Wei Liang from the former dynasty traveled thousands of miles to the capital, loudly accusing them of rebellion and of imprisoning the empress. He demanded they release her and allow her to read Shen Jie’s final edict to appoint a new crown prince.

Who in the court didn’t curse Jiang Xuening as a “femme fatale”?

This former top scholar, clearly demoted to a provincial post because of her, remained fiercely loyal. Even the dog under her command, Zhou Yinzhi, who had seemed loyal, had betrayed her. Yet Wei Liang, stubborn as a mule, insisted on arguing with the entire court.

When others insulted her, he, lacking eloquence, would flush red and loudly repeat,
“Her Highness isn’t like what you say! She’s not a bad person!”

It was a kind of obstinacy that defied understanding—
One that even gave rise to ambiguous suspicions.

Yan Lin, consumed by jealousy, tried to drown his sorrows in wine. But wine only brought memories—of her.
Every organ in his body ached. In the burning pain, love and hatred intertwined, and he went to find her again.

Not long after, rumors that had only circulated in private began to spread like wildfire through the palace.

“Look at her—such a seductive face. If she hadn’t seduced him first, would a man as good as General Yan have fallen for her?”

“I said years ago, how could someone like her be fit to be the mother of the nation…”

“No manners!”

“Everyone knows she was just a wild girl with no upbringing. It was only because His Majesty liked her back then that she was spoiled. The whole court became a laughingstock. But alas, she wasn’t meant for this life. Even with the title, she couldn’t hold it—now look at her, cursed by fate.”

“If you ask me, it’s just old flames rekindled between childhood sweethearts.”

“She’s full of tricks. Don’t underestimate her.”

“You know Zhou Yinzhi, the commander of the Embroidered Guards? She bewitched him too.”

“And Lord Zhang from the Ministry of Justice…”

“A harbringer of ruin!”

…

Eventually, the rumors reached Xie Wei’s ears. He knew what Yan Lin had done as well.
But suddenly, he recalled a day long ago—when the court was gathered for a meeting, yet all the ministers were waiting in the side hall. Jiang Xuening had emerged from within, dressed in splendid robes. When they entered, they saw the young emperor with a faint trace of pink lipstick on his finger. Lord Zhang of the Ministry of Justice, usually upright and outspoken, was unusually quiet that day.

He also remembered, not long before everything happened, he and Zhang Zhe had left the palace together, only to encounter the empress waiting halfway down the road. After a moment’s thought, Xie Wei had found an excuse to turn back, leaving the two of them to talk alone.

Yan Lin, after all, was of noble blood from the Marquis’s household.
Xie Wei thought—he truly could do nothing more to him.

4) Five-Stone Powder

After nightfall, the palace attendants lit the lamps. 

He had a headache and hadn’t slept well for several days. The quick and clever young eunuch immediately had someone bring up Five-Stone Powder and strong liquor, and served him as he took it. 

Shen Lang had died from taking elixirs.
Five-Stone Powder wasn’t a good thing either.
Xie Wei knew that well.

But even after taking it, he never showed the madness others did when the drug took effect. Though his whole body felt like it was burning, he remained calm, clear-headed, and could even review memorials and scheme as usual.

The greatest suffering is to be clear-headed.
Cinnabar was ground to powder, and the inkstone looked like blood.

He dipped his brush into cinnabar; to the eye, it looked as though he were dipping it into blood.
Each stroke on the paper carried the weight of lives.
The upright characters above gradually wavered in the shifting light and shadow.
In the stillness of the deep palace night, the lamp flame suddenly popped, and a faint, lingering fragrance drifted through the air.
Xie Wei looked up and saw her walk in.

She wore a pale yellow celestial robe, her face calm and composed.
A golden hairpin with dangling ornaments swayed in her dark hair—trembling with each step she took.
In her shimmering eyes was a faint trace of timid hesitation, while her slightly parted lips were bathed in the soft glow of the lamplight, appearing moist and pitiful.

The Buddhist scriptures say: when all thoughts are entangled and struggles cannot be resolved, demons find it easy to invade.

Xie Wei quietly watched “her.”
She was still holding a food box.
She approached him carefully and gently placed a bowl of ginseng soup on the imperial desk.
Her voice was soft and sweet, like water being squeezed from silk, but tinged with unease:
“It’s late and cold, Grand Preceptor Xie… please, have some…”

Xie Wei thought, This illusion is truly strange.

He glanced at the ginseng soup and let out a soft scoff:
“Is this how the Empress bewitched Zhang Zhe as well?”

A flicker of shock flashed across that dazzlingly beautiful face, and then it turned pale.
As if she had been stabbed.

Her fair hand hadn’t even had time to withdraw from the porcelain bowl before it began to tremble slightly, revealing a helpless guilt and panic.

That expression easily reminded Xie Wei of scenes he had witnessed in places of pleasure—entwined bodies, glistening with fragrant sweat, seductive postures, feigned resistance masking invitation.
Indeed, it could stir desires one dared not speak of.

He suddenly let out a soft laugh.
Seeing her wrist resting on the desk, he reached out and grasped it.
His burning fingertips slowly brushed over the skin—where there should have been a faint scar, it was now as flawless as white jade.
The hostility in him gradually flared.

Even in the drug-induced dreamlike haze, she seemed terribly afraid of him, as if she regretted it, unwilling, trying hard to pull her hand back. With a slight sob in her voice, she said to him:

“I was merely reminded of the past, when I once traveled the same path as you, Grand Preceptor. Now, trapped in this desperate situation, I dare not hope for your forgiveness—only to ask for a corner to… to find shelter. I beg you, sir, I beg you to show me mercy…”

The word “pity” was clearly on the tip of her tongue.

But she simply couldn’t say it.

Xie Wei’s fingers, pressing down on her wrist, tightened slightly, and he slowly traced a thin line of blood with his fingernail.

She cried from the pain.

Xie Wei sneered inwardly. Whether it was because he found it disgraceful that a dignified empress would offer herself so cheaply, or because he found her inability to utter the words “show pity” repulsive, he pulled her in front of him, half-smiling:

“Your Majesty, have you no sense of self-respect?”

She was afraid.

She wanted to struggle.

But she forced herself to suppress that fear. She didn’t struggle—only tensed her body and stared at him with wide eyes.

The Buddhist scriptures say: When evil spirits approach, do not sink, do not willingly fall. Clear your heart, and they will disperse on their own.

So Xie Wei was silent for a moment. Then he turned his gaze, picked up the imperial brush that had fallen onto the desk earlier, dipped it fully into the bright red cinnabar ink, and, gripping her, slowly drew from the right side of her neck, down along her throat and collarbone, a single stroke across her smooth, pale skin, slanting down into her left chest—right over her heart.

It looked like a vivid trail of blood.

Or like a blade slicing her open—cruel, yet strangely beautiful.

Cinnabar wards off evil.

She looked at him with a mix of shock and fear.

Xie Wei loathed that expression.

A dark intent stirred in his heart. His eyes lowered indifferently, and he leaned close to her ear. With a slow flick of his tongue, he whispered clearly and coldly:

“Get out.”

It seemed the evil spirit had finally been frightened away by him.

She, as if having suffered immense humiliation, stumbled backward the moment he let go of her. In her panic, she even forgot to take the bowl of ginseng soup she had brought, fleeing in disarray.

Xie Wei, however, sat back down.

He leaned into the chair, blinked, and looked around at the West Warm Pavilion, now returned to its cold stillness. His hand hung loosely at his side, and the imperial brush soaked in cinnabar slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor.

A vast emptiness swept over him.

Xie Wei closed his eyes and fell asleep.

But even with the combined effects of the Five-Stone Powder and the calming incense, his sleep was shallow.

When he awoke, the faint fragrance had already faded.

He looked at the towering stack of memorials on his desk and remembered there were still many matters left unresolved. Just as he reached for a fresh brush hanging on the brush rack, he glanced up—and saw the bowl of ginseng soup, now cold, still quietly sitting at the corner of the desk.

The eunuchs on duty were waiting outside the palace doors.

After a long while, a voice suddenly called from within:

“Someone, come in.”

They were startled at once and entered timidly in response to the summons.

Xie Wei sat behind the desk and asked,

“Who came here last night?”

Most of them looked at each other in confusion and shook their heads.

Xie Wei slowly closed his eyes and changed the question:

“Who was on duty last night?”

This time, a young eunuch among them immediately collapsed to his knees, trembling, and began kowtowing to the floor. Knowing his secret had been exposed, he cried and pleaded:

“Spare me, Grand Preceptor! Please spare me! It was Her Majesty the Empress who begged me—I was momentarily possessed and agreed to help her. Please, Grand Preceptor, have mercy…”

---

Xie Wei’s fingers, hanging at his side, curled slightly, as if a dull pain—long delayed—was finally passing through his body, leaving him momentarily dazed.

Outside the door, the fourth watch of the night was nearly over. The darkest hour before dawn.

5) Outside the Gate

After the bloodshed within the forbidden palace, the palace walls on all sides were lined with soldiers and armor.
The deeper the winter, the more solemn and grim the atmosphere became.

There were far fewer palace attendants than usual. They rarely left their quarters, and if they did, they dared not lift their eyes to look around. As a result, the paths were deserted. Even the usually bustling Kunning Palace now resembled a prison trapping the dead.

Before dawn broke, Xie Wei stood outside the palace gates, pausing there for a long time.
The cinnabar from last night had not yet been fully wiped from his fingers.

He lowered his gaze to glance at it, then lifted his foot and slowly stepped through the palace gates.

The young eunuchs on either side, upon seeing him, all showed signs of shock and knelt down with their heads bowed.
Xie Wei merely gave a slight wave of his hand.

The greetings they were about to utter fell silent. None dared lift their heads even slightly.
Even after Xie Wei had passed by, they did not dare rise immediately.

The once-luxurious palace, though its furnishings remained unchanged, now lacked the vitality of life, replaced by a desolate stillness brought on by the shifting tides of the world.

The lattice windows were lined with snow-white paper.

He walked to the tightly shut palace doors and stood there for a while before finally raising his hand—though it was unclear whether he meant to knock or simply push them open.

Just then, faint voices could be heard from within.

Two women were speaking.

Perhaps the voices had been there all along, but when he first arrived, his mind was elsewhere, and he hadn’t noticed.

“Your Grace…”

“Xie Ju’an is nothing but a devil cloaked in a sage’s skin. Xiao Shu is dead, Zhou Yinzhi is dead, Shen Jie is dead—what can I do? Under the eaves, one must bow their head. When I think about it, giving myself to Yan Lin might not be so bad. Who knows, I might even become the empress of the new dynasty.”

Her voice no longer carried the panic and unease of the previous night.
There was only a cold, quiet calm—
So cold, in fact, that it sent a chill through the listener.

Xie Wei’s hand, which had not yet touched the palace door, froze in place for a long time.
Finally, little by little, it slowly clenched into a fist, then dropped back down to his side.

Yet the anger he had managed to suppress that morning surged back up violently.

He lowered his gaze briefly, then lifted it again—his expression now completely unreadable.
Without another word, he turned and walked away from the palace gates.
Only after his figure had completely disappeared did the palace attendants behind him dare to rise from the ground.

The tightly shut palace doors had never opened.

Inside the deep palace, the murmuring of two women continued.

That President You—who had built a business empire across the entire south despite being a woman—sighed softly and said,
“Everything happens for a reason. If I’m not mistaken, Xie Wei is a pitiful man too…”

6) The Dagger

After returning to the Pavilion in the West Wing, Xie Wei finally remembered the cinnabar on his finger. He picked up a nearby handkerchief and began to wipe it off bit by bit.

A young eunuch entered and said, “The person from last night has been dealt with.”

Xie Wei was silent for a moment, then suddenly said, “Go find me a knife.”

The young eunuch was stunned.

But he didn’t dare ask more. He simply lowered his head and replied, “Yes,” before heading to the Imperial Household Department to open the storeroom. Not knowing exactly what kind of knife Xie Wei wanted, he brought back one of each type and style he could find, even including two daggers among them. Trembling, he presented them all before Xie Wei.

Xie Wei’s gaze swept over each one.

Finally, his finger stopped on a dagger.

It was truly a beautiful dagger.

The silver scabbard was inlaid with one smooth gemstone after another, making it look more like a plaything.

But once unsheathed, the blade gleamed with a chilling light.

The pad of his thumb merely brushed against it, and blood appeared—it was incredibly sharp.

He sheathed it again and tossed it back onto the lacquered tray.

He said, “This dagger—give it to Her Majesty the Empress. Send it.”

The young eunuch stepped forward. After waiting a moment and hearing nothing more, he understood. He immediately carried the lacquered tray with the dagger and delivered it to the Palace of Kunning Palace.

7) Forced to Kill

A day passed, then two…

Then a month, two months…

Nothing happened.

Yan Lin had entered and exited the Kunning Palace several times late at night, and eventually, the palace gossip reached the court and the public.

Who could tolerate a former empress behaving so wantonly?

Petitions of remonstrance flew in like snowflakes. Many demanded that she be buried with Shen Jie, upholding the ideal that husband and wife should live and die together. At the same time, the old court factions stirred again, using Shen Jie’s final edict to push for the selection of a royal clan child—chosen by Jiang Xuening—to be brought to the capital and established as the crown prince.

As the harsh winter neared its end, Xie Wei still refused to leave his residence. He stood before a window covered in black cloth and asked Lu Xian, “How old is the child?”

Lu Xian replied, “Seven or eight.”

Xie Wei said, “Still very young.”

After all the effort spent in rebellion—the royal family slaughtered, the Xiao clan wiped out—who didn’t believe that either Xie Wei or Yan Lin would eventually ascend the throne?

Lu Xian hoped it would be Xie Wei.

But if it were Yan Lin, that would be acceptable too.

Yet hearing Xie Wei’s tone at that moment, a faint sense of alarm rose in Lu Xian’s heart. He suddenly asked, “Do you intend to make that child the crown prince?”

Xie Wei did not answer.

Xie Wei made no move regarding the old faction’s plan to bring the royal child to the capital.

But before winter had fully passed and spring arrived, news came from outside: the young child had died tragically en route—killed on Yan Lin’s orders.

Xie Wei summoned Yan Lin for questioning.

Yan Lin, as if provoked, responded coldly, “We’ve already killed hundreds—what difference does one child make? This empire was won by you and me. Are we really going to hand it over to a child who can barely write a few words?!”

Xie Wei looked at him calmly. “You want to be emperor?”

Yan Lin said, “Why shouldn’t I? If that child becomes emperor, wouldn’t that make her the Empress Dowager? How could she be Empress Dowager? She should be my empress!”

Smack!

Xie Wei, unable to hold back any longer, slapped him across the face.

Yan Lin’s head snapped to the side from the blow.

In that moment, the cracks that had formed months ago suddenly split wide open. The calm that had floated on the surface was torn apart as he shouted, “You’ve never liked her! You even indulged those ministers who wanted her dead! But I like her! If anyone dares to harm her, dares to bury her with the dead, I’ll kill them all—one by one! Let’s see if they dare to speak another word!”

Xie Wei’s face darkened. “Whoever wants to harm her, whoever wants her buried with the dead—you’ll kill them, is that it?”

Suddenly, he called for Dao Qin and Jian Shu.

Before they even got close to Yan Lin, they had already begun to act.

But two fists were no match for four hands. In the end, Yan Lin was forcefully pinned to the ground. He had already sensed the storm hidden in Xie Wei’s words, and his eyes nearly burst with rage: “What are you trying to do?!”

Xie Wei picked up the long sword that had fallen to the ground and said only, “Then I’ll kill them for you to see.”

With that, he stepped outside and gave the order: “Command the Imperial Guards to surround Kunning Palace.”

Then he ordered Yan Lin’s mouth gagged and his body bound, dragging him all the way to the gates of Kunning Palace.

The Imperial Guards, clad in heavy armor, marched with solemn precision. As soon as they surrounded the palace, the few remaining palace maids and eunuchs inside screamed and fled in panic.

The guards raised their blades and cut them down—none were spared.

Yan Lin’s eyes turned red. He struggled with all his might, looking at Xie Wei almost pleadingly.

But Xie Wei stood unmoved outside the palace gates, sword in hand. His white Daoist robe was spotless, adding a chilling severity to his presence. He called into the palace, “Your Majesty the Empress, everyone is dead. You may come out now.”

There seemed to be voices from within.

Then silence.

After a long while, a voice suddenly called out from inside: “Lord Xie!”

Xie Wei said nothing.

Her voice calmed again, like the snow blanketing the ground—pressed down, cold, and carrying a penetrating chill. She said:

“You killed the royal family, executed the Xiao clan, and destroyed the Heavenly Sect. You hold power—and my life—in your hands. By rights, I have no place to bargain with you. In this life, I’ve used many people. But if you count carefully, I wronged Yan Lin, and he took his revenge; I used Xiao Dingfei and Zhou Yinzhi, and they used me to rise in turn; I schemed against Shen Jie, and now I must be buried with him, to follow him into the afterlife. I owe none of them…”

Behind her, Yan Lin seemed to be sobbing.

Jiang Xuening’s voice paused for a moment, now tinged with a slight tremble:
“But there is one person—only one—who has lived his life with integrity, strict in discipline and law. It was I who coerced and manipulated him, who led him astray and tarnished his reputation for half a lifetime. He is a good official. I sincerely hope that Lord Xie, for the sake of the blood I once fed you on our journey to the capital, will spare his life in exchange for mine… and give him a way to live.”

In that instant, Xie Wei was momentarily dazed.

But as her words fell, a name surfaced in his mind—

Zhang Zhe.

That silent, dull face in court… that unremarkable, boring man…

He silently curled his lips into a smile, then suddenly let out a cold laugh.

But Jiang Xuening could not see it.

It felt as though a fire was burning in his chest, scorching his lungs, yet his voice remained cold and indifferent, laced with cruel detachment:
“Fine.”

That moment seemed to stretch into eternity.

But it was only the blink of an eye.

From within the palace, there was first silence—
Then came a crisp clang, the sound of a sharp dagger falling from someone’s hand and hitting the ground, sharper and more final than a blade sealing a throat.

Yan Lin seemed to be in a dream. It took him a long time to react.

Even Dao Qin and Jian Shu were stunned.

His eyes turned red, and at last, like a trapped beast, a surge of uncontrollable strength burst from within him. He suddenly broke free and staggered toward the palace, shouting again and again:
“Ningning! Ningning—!”

Blood was already spreading from within the hall.

That girl—who had feared pain, feared death, and lived timidly all her life—now lay resolutely and quietly in a pool of blood.

Her golden hairpin had fallen to the ground, her step-shaking ornaments scattered.

Yan Lin rushed in and held her in his arms. The man who had once commanded three armies and fought the Tartars was now completely at a loss, panicked and helpless. Like a boy again, he cried, calling out in despair:
“The imperial physician! Get the physician—!”

His hands were covered in blood.

So helpless.

The sword had fallen to the ground at some point. Xie Wei stood motionless outside, watching for a long time, but never took a single step inside.

Jiang Xuening was finally dead.

8) Green Plum

It was as if Yan Lin’s soul had followed her.

Her body was kept in Kunning Palace. The court officials—whether out of fear or disdain—refused to come pay their respects.

Only he sat before her coffin day after day, drinking.

When he was deeply drunk, he would confess to her; when he was sober, he would blame her, resent her, scold her—
As if she were still alive in this world…

No one knew who suddenly brought it up, but someone mentioned that Lord Zhang from the Ministry of Justice had actually written a confession of guilt for himself—a long page of it. During the joint trial by the Three Judicial Offices and many court officials, not a single one could bear it.

And then, he suddenly went mad.

He grabbed a sword and tried to rush to the Ministry of Justice prison to kill Zhang Zhe.

When his subordinates came to report, Xie Wei remembered—there was indeed a Zhang Zhe, who had been imprisoned in the Ministry of Justice for quite some time.

Naturally, Yan Lin would go after him.

After thinking for a moment, he simply said, “A few days ago, when we confiscated the Jiang residence, there was a sword. Take it to him.”

It must have been something from long ago. When Jiang Boyou was dismissed and his house raided, they found it in a dust-covered storeroom.

When the sword case was opened, the sword inside was surprisingly pristine.

It was a finely forged, high-quality sword.

Inside the case was an inscription wishing someone a happy birthday. The strokes were a bit clumsy, but deeply carved—still clearly visible after all these years.

The person who delivered the sword came back and said that General Yan looked at the sword and never took another sip of wine. He just sat silently in front of the Kunning Palace the entire night.

Xie Wei couldn’t be bothered to deal with him.

But that night, while reading, he came across a page in Shuowen Jiezi with the character “妒” (jealousy), explained as: “to harm.”

He threw the scroll into the brazier.

The next morning, the snow had melted. He remembered Zhang Zhe—the one who had sentenced him to execution after autumn—and went to the Ministry of Justice prison.

But the words that came out of his mouth were: “Ning’er has passed.”

Only afterward did he add: “Your empress has passed away.”

At that moment, Xie Wei felt an inexplicable sense of irony, as if someone in the vast, unseen void was watching him like a joke.

He said something else, but he couldn’t even remember what it was.

After leaving the Ministry of Justice prison and just as he was about to depart, he saw someone standing outside the gate, arguing endlessly with the guards.

The man was also dressed in official robes.

But his face was unfamiliar. In his hand, he held a late-blooming green plum blossom. The jade-colored petals bloomed on withered branches—it seemed to be that rare variety from the palace.

Xie Wei thought for a moment before recalling: “Is that Wei Liang?”

Dao Qin, standing beside him, replied, “Yes.”

Xie Wei asked, “What is he doing here?”

Jian Shu stepped forward to inquire. He returned shortly and said in a low voice, “It seems that, before Her Majesty the Empress passed, she entrusted him to break off a plum branch and deliver it to Lord Zhang.”

Xie Wei was silent for a long time before saying, “Let him go.”

Jian Shu stepped forward again.

Only then did the guards allow Wei Liang to pass.

Wei Liang also saw Xie Wei from a distance, but his expression showed clear displeasure. Not only did he not approach, he didn’t even show the slightest hint of gratitude. He simply walked straight into the prison.

Xie Wei stood where he was.

In just a moment, Wei Liang had disappeared from sight.

Dao Qin and Jian Shu both thought they were about to leave.

But in that moment, a cold glint appeared in Xie Wei’s eyes. As if something had touched a hidden nerve, he suddenly said, “Go arrest him. And don’t give him that plum branch!”

This was clearly a surge of violent anger.

Lately, Dao Qin and Jian Shu had found it increasingly difficult to read his moods. They had no choice but to go into the prison and seize Wei Liang, bringing him back along with the green plum blossom he had just carried in.

Xie Wei took the branch in his long fingers, looked at it for a moment, then threw it to the ground and slowly crushed it underfoot.

9) Severing Bonds

On the way back, the marketplace seemed to have already forgotten the catastrophe from just a few months ago and was gradually returning to its lively state.

There were also displaced commoners begging along the streets.

A barefoot little beggar was caught in a scuffle, blocking the road ahead.

Xie Wei sat in the carriage and didn’t ask.

Jian Shu came forward and said, “Just a few little beggars fighting. It’s been broken up.”

Xie Wei lifted a corner of the carriage curtain to look.

The little beggar had blood on his head and was crying hard, but his eyes were wide open, glaring fiercely at the adult he had just fought with. He clenched his teeth and said nothing.

Eyes like a wolf cub.

And full of a lively defiance.

There was also a deep sense of unwillingness, resistance, and refusal to yield…

Suddenly, Xie Wei said, “Bring him here.”

Dao Qin brought the child to the front of the carriage.

The little beggar didn’t know any better, nor did he know who Xie Wei was.

Xie Wei asked, “How old are you?”

The little beggar wiped the blood from his head and said, “Seven.”

Xie Wei asked again, “Do you have a name?”

The little beggar replied, “No.”

Xie Wei slowly lowered the curtain and said to Jian Shu, “Take him back.”

But it wasn’t the palace he went to.

It was the Xie residence.

Only, when Xie Wei stepped into the Bidu Hall, there was already a figure standing before the once-empty wall.

It was Yan Lin.

Dressed in dark, fitted robes, he looked tall and imposing.

But when he turned around at the sound of footsteps, his eyes were filled with a lifeless, ashen stillness—along with a sharp, bitter sarcasm.

A delicate dagger inlaid with gemstones was thrown from his sleeve and landed on the desk.

Yan Lin asked him, “Was it you who had someone give her the knife?”

Xie Wei didn’t deny it. “So what?”

In that instant, a fierce killing intent surged in Yan Lin. His sword flashed from his waist and was instantly at Xie Wei’s throat!

He could hardly believe what this man had done.

In the Kunning Palace, nothing sharp was ever allowed—not even golden hairpins, which he had ordered to be blunted.

But this man had sent in a dagger!

The blade touched Xie Wei’s neck, drawing blood.

Clenching his teeth, Yan Lin demanded, “How dare you—how dare you do such a thing! What harm was there in her being alive in this world? She never hurt you. What right did you have to force her to die?!”

Xie Wei replied, “How do you know that I gave her the knife… so she would kill herself?”

Yan Lin froze.

Xie Wei’s calm eyes stared at him. They were clearly tranquil and unruffled, yet carried a subtle madness that made one’s whole body go cold.

“If it’s a knife,” he said, “then anyone can kill.”

Yan Lin thought he had gone mad.

Xie Wei began to laugh. “It’s just a pity—she was a coward. She didn’t dare kill you. She only dared to turn the blade on herself! A person like that, even if she died a thousand or ten thousand times, what is there to pity?”

This was his elder brother.

And also the teacher he had known for nearly ten years and worked with for five.

He had given the knife to Jiang Xuening—so she would kill him!

In that moment, Yan Lin felt an overwhelming sense of absurdity, and nearly struck him down with his sword on the spot.

But then, Yan Mu’s dying words surfaced in his mind.

The sword turned, and in the end, it slashed past Xie Wei’s side, striking the desk and splitting it in two.

“From this moment on, you and I are like this desk—split apart. It was I who never truly saw you for what you are. You’re a deranged madman!”

Yan Lin left.

Xie Wei, it seemed, didn’t care at all.

10) The World

The little beggar was taken away by Dao Qin and Jian Shu. After being washed clean, his head wound bandaged, and dressed in new, well-fitting clothes, he actually became a bit uneasy and nervous.

His eyes were filled with deep wariness when looking at others.

As if he could abandon all of this at any moment and run for his life.

Xie Wei asked him, “Do you want to be emperor?”

The child had probably already learned who he was and felt some fear. Yet there was also an indescribable longing—direct and unfiltered—as he answered without the slightest hesitation: “Yes!”

Xie Wei suddenly laughed.

He took the boy’s hand and led him up the tall city tower.

The child asked, “Do I need a name?”

Xie Wei said, “You can give yourself one in the future.”

The child asked, “Can I call myself whatever I want?”

Xie Wei replied, “Whatever you want to be called, that’s what you’ll be called.”

Dusk was falling, the withered grass had yet to turn green, and the barren plains outside the city stretched all the way to the horizon.

Xie Wei stood at the top.

The child clung to the hem of his robe, standing beside him, looking down as well.

Xie Wei asked, “What do you see?”

The child said, “Bare land.”

Xie Wei said, “That is the world.”

The child grew excited: “If I become emperor, then the world will be mine!”

But Xie Wei shook his head. “No, it’s not yours.”

The child was confused.

Xie Wei raised his hand and pointed downward. “Look at this land—it stretches endlessly for thousands of miles. But in all the world, no one is truly its master. Even if you are exalted as the Son of Heaven, with all beneath you bowing at your feet, you still cannot make the heavens and earth change their color for you. And even those millions kneeling before you are never truly beneath you.”

“You are a beggar, and yet you can become emperor. But if one day you are no longer worthy, among those millions, someone will rise up—risking death—to drag you down from the dragon throne, just to teach the foolish world a truth they may never understand in their lifetime.”

And what was that truth?

Many years later, when the boy had become a wise and virtuous emperor, he would still wake from nightmares, haunted by the memory of that enigmatic man and the riddle he left behind.

But in that moment, he forgot to ask.

On the way back, he was simply overjoyed. “Then in the future, if I like someone, I can make her empress. And if I like others too, I can make them concubines.”

Xie Wei remained silent.

The boy looked at him in confusion. “Sir, is there no one you like?”

Xie Wei’s throat moved slightly, as if suppressing something. But in the end, he said nothing.

Later, as emperor, he would sometimes recall that moment—and still feel as though it were shrouded in mist: with that expression, could it really be that he had never loved anyone?

Perhaps, there had once been someone—someone extraordinarily special—who had left a deep scar on his heart.

11) The End of Snow

In those final days, Xie Wei neither stayed in the palace nor at the Xie residence.

He stayed at the White Pagoda Temple.

The abbot was away, cultivating in the nearby mountains.

On the day before spring arrived, Xie Wei went up the mountain to visit.

Spring came late in the mountains—the higher he climbed, the colder it became. Snow was still drifting in front of the thatched hut.

Abbot Wangchen was brewing tea.

Xie Wei sat down and drank a few cups, watching the snow in the courtyard, as a small water jar beneath the eaves slowly filled.

Abbot Wangchen said, “In this world, sometimes it’s better not to see things too clearly. A person lives one life—many pass it in mediocrity, and that’s enough.”

But Xie Wei replied, “What meaning is there in that?”

The abbot sighed softly and chanted a Buddhist verse: “Why bring such suffering upon yourself?”

Xie Wei sat in silence for a long time. Then, lowering his eyes, he said, “I’m tired.”

No one spoke after that.

When he finished his tea, he took his leave.

As he was leaving, he noticed the jar of snow beneath the eaves. He asked the abbot for it and took it down the mountain.

The abbot said, “Once snow leaves the mountain, it melts.”

Xie Wei did not respond.

When he reached the foot of the mountain, he placed the jar in the Chaoyin Pavilion, on the incense table. The snow inside had already begun to melt.

He piled the scriptures of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism beneath the pavilion.

Then lit a fire—and burned them all to ash.

A life owed must be repaid.

Xie Wei sat cross-legged before the incense table, watching the snow in the jar slowly melt, waiting as the scriptures gradually turned to ash. A golden hairpin, still stained with blood that could not be wiped clean, lay in the center. Beside it was a clean silk handkerchief.

He lowered his eyes and unfastened the dagger from his wrist.

The thin blade caught a sliver of bright daylight, reflecting into his eyes—yet it stirred not even a speck of dust around him.

That afternoon, a young monk responsible for lighting incense in the Stele Forest of the Three Hundred Righteous Children’s Tomb entered. Behind one of the stone tablets, where someone had once carved a name, a new grave had been dug—no one knew when.

When he reached the Chaoyin Pavilion, he saw blood trailing down the steps from above, winding its way downward.

Half of the snow-white Daoist robe was stained red.

On the incense table, a thin-bladed dagger—wiped clean after use—was placed neatly beside the golden hairpin.

The jar held no more snow, only half a jar of clear water.

The man who had once loomed like a shadow over the new dynasty—on this quiet afternoon, just as spring was about to arrive and the snow had melted—left the world in a strange and peaceful way, without leaving behind a single word.

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