Chapter 60: Loving Her, So He Wanted to Live…
Zhao Rongzhang shut herself away for a full day and night, finally handing a palm-sized “White Paper” to Ming Luo. The Jiangnan region was already complex in terms of power dynamics, and now with so many eyes watching, such an important item had to be handled with extreme caution. Not only did Zhao Rongzhang draw it small, but she also used special ink to conceal it—once the ink dried, all the markings would become transparent, requiring a specific solution to reveal them again. After drawing for a full day and night, she felt as though her eyes were about to give out from exhaustion.
Ming Luo carefully held the tiny piece of paper, ground fresh ink, and pretended to write a family letter, hiding the secret code within two brief lines inquiring about her family’s well-being.
The letter was urgently dispatched by fast horse, but it would take at least four or five days for Su Shuang’an to lead his men and arrive.
Next, they still had to wait—wait for Prince Su to react. Only the men under Prince Su’s command could be considered strong soldiers and capable generals, capable of resisting those Guard Army troops and the Imperial Guards.
Having endured for far too long, Zhao Rongzhang finally felt a momentary relaxation of the tightly wound string in her heart when she saw Ming Luo seal the letter with wax and successfully hand it to the Old Peddler. Ming Luo helped her lie back against the pillow, fed her a bowl of thick porridge mixed with malt sugar, softly comforted her, and attended to her until she fell asleep.
Zhao Rongzhang finished the porridge cleanly but frowned at the end, saying, “I want to eat mutton and drink mutton soup. I want it as soon as I wake up.”
This request was quite difficult for them at the moment, but Ming Luo was delighted—the Princess’s appetite had finally returned. After enduring such hardship, she deserved to eat well.
As soon as Zhao Rongzhang closed her eyes and buried herself entirely in the soft bedding, sleepiness instantly overwhelmed her. It felt incredibly comfortable, and she fell asleep in an instant.
When she opened her eyes again, she was surrounded by a thick, suffocating fog that she couldn’t brush away no matter how hard she tried. Zhao Rongzhang was deeply frustrated, waving her sleeves in vain.
“Heh heh.” A soft laugh came from above. Zhao Rongzhang looked up and saw her Mother Consort’s crimson skirt.
Mother Consort took her hand and led her forward, step by step, climbing higher and higher. Finally, she broke through the layers of fog, trampling them all underfoot, and then looked down with disdain upon the tranquil city shrouded in this dense mist.
Mother Consort smiled and said, “Stand high enough, and no one can block your sight.”
But Zhao Rongzhang shook off her Mother Consort’s hand. She was filled with anger and a deep sense of grievance, her nose so sore she wanted to cry.
“You resent me?”
Zhao Rongzhang remained silent.
Mother Consort crouched down, gently touching her small head and face, her plain and gentle face smiling softly. Zhao Rongzhang realized that her grown-up face truly resembled her Mother Consort’s.
“I know you love me, love me very much,” Mother Consort said slowly. “I love you too, my only child.”
Tears welled up in Zhao Rongzhang’s eyes, stubbornly held back, refusing to fall. But without shedding them, she couldn’t see her Mother Consort’s face clearly.
“Even without me, you will grow up. Grow up well, and don’t miss me.”
Mother Consort continued walking forward. Panicked, Zhao Rongzhang desperately tried to chase after her. Though Mother Consort walked slowly and calmly, no matter how fast Zhao Rongzhang ran, the distance between them only grew. The thick fog swallowed her Mother Consort’s crimson figure.
Zhao Rongzhang jolted awake.
A hollow emptiness filled her heart.
The aroma of mutton continuously drifted in from outside. A soft autumn rain pattered beyond the window. For no reason at all—utterly without reason—Zhao Rongzhang knew this might be the last time she would dream of her mother.
Ever since the letter had been sent, Zhao Rongzhang had waited anxiously each day. She had specifically instructed the messenger within the city to provide clear details about Guan Xuan’s condition from now on—whether he was alive or dead, the extent of his injuries, how long he could hold on—all needed to be stated plainly. Otherwise, it would be difficult for her to make arrangements here. What if he died too quickly… it would complicate her adjustments.
Less than two days after this instruction had been delivered into the city, Ming Luo returned from outside with bad news concerning that blueprint.
“It was intercepted. It never reached Shuang An.”
A chill ran down Zhao Rongzhang’s spine, and sweat broke out on her skin. “Intercepted by Prince Su?”
“No. It was intercepted before it even left the city, as if they had been watching us all along. I suspect it was Su Tan.”
“It would be her,” Zhao Rongzhang said, biting down hard on the inside of her cheek. “If she wanted to stand by and do nothing, fine, but to hinder me? As long as heaven doesn’t let me die, I will have my revenge on her. One day, I swear it!”
“The pressing matter now is what we do next. I fear she might take that blueprint to Prince Su to pledge her allegiance. Her ability to decipher intelligence far surpasses ours…”
Zhao Rongzhang leaned on the table and sat down, taking a sip of cold tea. “Don’t worry. From the very first stroke I drew, I considered what to do if it fell into someone else’s hands—especially Prince Su’s—and how to deceive their eyes.”
After all, she had studied under Shuang An, and the two of them had long established a set of codes and symbols only they could understand. The most critical locations had all been disguised with seemingly ordinary markings, while some unimportant details were made more distinctive. The directions and orientations of certain rivers and mountain ranges were deliberately drawn incorrectly. Even if someone held the blueprint and stood on-site comparing it, they might not notice anything amiss. Even Shuang An would need considerable time to decipher it correctly.
Although the likelihood of the blueprint being completely decoded by the enemy was low, Zhao Rongzhang still felt uneasy. If Su Tan had indeed been watching her all along, there was even less she could do. Did she really have to stick to the original plan and wait passively—wait for Suzhou City to lift its martial law, reunite with Shuang An, and join forces with Prince Su? That was indeed the safest choice, the one with the highest chance of success. If she could just wait until that day, the situation would immediately turn in her favor. But… what about her cat?
At that moment, the latest message arrived from within the city.
Zhao Rongzhang quickly unfolded the letter, only to see a brief sentence.
Imperial Guards and Guard Army jointly slain, tonight, East City.”
East City, where the autumn sun was warm and dry. In the courtyard of the Old Ancestral Hall stood a Magnolia Tree, its palm-sized leaves withered and yellow, falling from the branches onto the eaves, then drifting down to the ground, crunching softly underfoot.
Among the small stone piles behind the tree, Guan Xuan discovered a litter of kittens. Three in total—two yellow and white, one entirely yellow. Cupping his face in his hands, he quietly watched them.
When Ren Ping leaped into the courtyard, he saw him stacking stones. One side was higher than the other, but it formed a small stone house with eaves and a ridge.
As he approached the stone pile, he heard two faint meows coming from within.
The youth handed him a porcelain vial half a finger’s length. Ren Ping accepted it with a peculiar expression. “What’s inside?”
Guan Xuan only “said”: “For the Princess. Give it to her.”
“You exposed your location, lured me here, for this?” He thought the boy would beg for his life.
Guan Xuan remained silent, quietly watching the sun shift westward. The glaring sunlight shone into his pitch-black pupils, refracting a translucent glow.
“Aren’t you afraid I won’t give it?”
The youth shook his head. It was unclear whether he meant he wasn’t afraid, or that Ren Ping wouldn’t refuse.
Ren Ping tucked the vial away and also looked toward the sun.
Dusk gathered from all directions, the moonlight growing brighter within the thickening night. The Mid-Autumn Festival was approaching, a full moon hanging round in the sky.
Deliberately hushed footsteps closed in from all sides. Leaning against a tree, Guan Xuan watched the mother cat returning from the hunt lick each of her kittens’ heads one by one.
When this day arrived, Guan Xuan began frequently wondering whether the Princess wished for his death. If he died here, these people would never find her whereabouts again. She could take advantage of the chaos in the city to join forces with Su Tan and Prince Su. Soon, she would surely secure her place in the world.
Yet he also frequently recalled that night at the foot of the green mountain when he parted from the Princess. She had laid out this plan to him so lightly, so confidently. Before leaving, she called him back again, telling him to protect himself well. Did she say this because she cared for him, hoping he would return to her alive? Or did she hope that through such gentle words, his heart would remain soft even when facing death?
Whichever possibility it was, receiving these words from the Princess had softened his heart. Only, toward her, he grew increasingly greedy day by day. He hoped it was the first possibility. He hoped the Princess was reluctant to see him die. He hoped the Princess liked him, that she held for him a love as tolerant and warm as sunlight upon snow, even if it was shallow.
Survival is the body’s instinct; love is the soul’s instinct. Guan Xuan loved lush grass, vibrant flowers, cool ponds, cascading waterfalls… and little fish swimming with flicking tails, kittens sleeping belly-up under the sun. Most things in this world, he loved dearly. That person who gazed at the Shadow Pavilion’s exit as he died was right—one must see the outside world. Outside, all things are lovely; to live one more day is to love one more day.
Every day he lived required killing. He had to consume the bodies of many dead things to replenish the strength in his own body, then go kill more people. Thus, he indulged his survival instinct, letting his body live year after year.
Until he was held in the Princess’s embrace. The Princess soothed him, coaxed him, enveloped him, kissed him. He loved her—perhaps from the moment he met her gaze through the curtain of rain, from the day she bestowed his name, in every moment he willingly served as nothing but a walking piece of flesh to kill all whom she wished dead… he had wanted to love her. Wanting to love her felt as natural as wanting to love all lovely things in this world.
Because he loved her, he wanted to live. But today, but now, if she hoped to exchange his death for something more worthwhile to her, he was willing. Willing to die with a soft heart, to become a ghost, forever following by her side.