Zhao Heng did not speak.
He leaned back against the soft pillows, his ash-grey face completely devoid of expression.
Lin Jianxi continued.
“Your three sons—the First Prince honors Confucianism, but he merely uses it as a tool to consolidate his power.
“The Second Prince professes belief in Buddhism, yet secretly colludes with the Directorate of Ceremonial.
“The Third Prince favors martial arts, keeping eight hundred retainers in his manor; he seems imposing, but in truth, he is nothing more than a boorish fool obsessed with the martial way.
“Not one of these three princes is worthy of being entrusted with the empire.
“You knew this better than anyone.
“And so, you had no choice but to act fatuous.
“You had to indulge their struggles for power and profit, forcing their respective ambitions into the open light of day.
“All so the court officials could see clearly that not a single one of these three princes could bear the weight of Grand Zhao’s realm.”
Lin Jianxi took a step forward, her voice remaining cool and calm.
“And your deal with that demon remnant was the final move you prepared for yourself.
“If you truly could have used the demon essence to repair your body and extend your life,
“then with your prestige and methods, you could have easily cleaned up this chaotic board single-handedly.
“By then, with the three princes’ ambitions thoroughly exposed, you could have deposed them at your leisure.
“You were confident enough in yourself—
“confident that you could control that demon beast, and that after gaining longevity, you could personally set everything back on the right track.”
Her voice finally quavered slightly, tinged with a faint trace of regret.
“Only, it is a pity you never considered one thing.
“If you set such a precedent, and if that demon remnant used your hands to gain a foothold in the human court,
“would it truly remain content to be a mere pawn on your path to longevity?”
A long silence fell over the Hall of Mental Cultivation.
Leaning against the soft pillows, Zhao Heng looked at the young woman speaking so eloquently before him. A faint, almost imperceptible smile slowly touched the corners of his lips.
He suddenly broke into a fit of violent coughing, doubling over completely as his emaciated fingers clutched the brocade quilt, his knuckles turning white from the strain.
By the time he finally calmed down, a few spots of dark red blood stained the brocade quilt.
“As expected of Wen Zhuo’s disciple.”
He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with a handkerchief and looked up at Lin Jianxi.
“I spent so many years dealing with that demon, believing my scheme to be flawless.
“Yet Wen Zhuo, hiding away in his mountain forests, saw through it clearer than anyone.
“He even understood the exact calculations I was making in my heart.
“Just now, I told Qingning that sitting on this Dragon Throne makes one a truly solitary ruler, understood by no one.
“Looking at it now, those words were not entirely true.
“At least... there was still Wen Zhuo who understood me.”
Lin Jianxi fell silent for a moment before slowly speaking.
“Master once said as well... that Your Majesty would be a wise ruler of your generation.”
Zhao Heng froze for a second, the smile at the corner of his lips turning even more bitter.
“A wise ruler?
“What kind of wise ruler am I?
“I cannot even properly arrange matters after my death, and I must even push my own daughter into a pit of fire.”
“Your Majesty.”
Lin Jianxi’s voice softened slightly.
“Master said you would be a wise ruler, not because you never made mistakes,
“but because even when you knew your body could no longer bear the burden, you were still planning a path forward for this empire.
“You could have comfortably lain upon the Dragon Couch, waiting for one of the princes to succeed you.
“Regardless of whether he possessed the ability, at least you would not have borne the infamy of a fatuous ruler.
“Yet you did not. You preferred to take on the stain of a fatuous ruler yourself, all to ensure that everything was properly arranged.”
Zhao Heng fell silent.
Leaning against the soft pillows, his ash-grey face showed neither sorrow nor joy.
“Miss Lin.”
He suddenly spoke up, his voice even raspier than before.
“I ask two things of you.”
“Please speak, Your Majesty.”
“First.
“How far will you stay by Qingning’s side to assist her?
“Will you let her become a solitary ruler as well?”
Lin Jianxi was quiet for a moment, then slowly raised her head to meet Zhao Heng’s eyes.
“I cannot make any guarantees.”
Her voice was soft, yet unwavering.
Zhao Heng stared at her for a long time, then nodded slightly.
“Second.
“Your master planned all of this... in the end, what kind of world did he wish to leave behind for me?”
This time, Lin Jianxi remained silent for a long while.
In the hall, there was only the crackle of the Everlasting Lamp’s flickering flame and the sound of Zhao Heng’s increasingly labored breathing.
She pursed her lips, then looked up at Zhao Heng.
“To this question, I dare not give Your Majesty a definitive answer either.
“Master did not do these things to return a world to anyone.
“He simply felt that the world’s martial artists and Confucian scholars should not stand in opposition.
“Nor should the world’s men and women be unequal.
“He wanted to see a different world.
“As for what that world will ultimately become, no one can predict.
“Neither I nor the Fourth Princess can do more than take it one step at a time.
“We will go as far as our steps take us.”
Zhao Heng stared at her in a daze.
The final spark of light in those cloudy, exhausted eyes slowly dimmed, like an oil lamp that had finally burned its last drop.
“What a man, that Wen Zhuo... keeping secrets from me even in death.
“As for my merits and faults, I can only leave them for future generations to judge.”
He then rested his head back against the soft pillows and slowly closed his eyes.
“You may step down. I am tired.”
Once he uttered those words, the single breath that had been sustaining his chest slowly and silently leaked away.
His breathing turned from labored to weak, and from weak to imperceptible, until at last it ceased completely.
That emaciated hand, bearing the jade thumb ring engraved with "Mandate of Heaven," slipped silently from the brocade quilt, dangling over the edge of the Dragon Couch.
The flame of the Everlasting Lamp flickered violently.
In the hall, the aroma of ambergris blended with the bitterness of medicinal broth, remaining impossibly thick.
Outside the hall, the night was deep, and the rhythmic, orderly footsteps of the night-patrolling Imperial Guard echoed faintly from afar.
Step by step, like the eternal, unchanging heartbeat of this vast imperial city.
Lin Jianxi stood before the Dragon Couch, looking at the emperor who was so emaciated he barely resembled a human form, remaining silent for a long time.
Then, she adjusted her robes and cap, stepped back three paces, and knelt properly, her forehead touching the floor as she performed a formal Confucian grand bow.
“Your servant, Lin Jianxi, respectfully sees Your Majesty off.”
She slowly rose, turned, and pushed open the vermilion doors carved with five-clawed golden dragons of the Hall of Mental Cultivation.
Outside the hall, Zhao Qingning stood before the white marble balustrade with her back to the doors, her spine straight as a die.
Hearing the door open behind her, she turned around.
Moonlight fell upon her face; her eyes were red from crying, but tears no longer fell.
Lin Jianxi looked at her, then slowly and solemnly knelt before her.
“Greetings, Your Majesty.”
Zhao Qingning stared in a daze at Lin Jianxi kneeling in front of her, then looked back at the half-open doors behind her.
Suddenly, she understood.
Biting her lip, she held her back even straighter.
Then, she raised her head and looked toward the eastern horizon, where the faint white glow of dawn was slowly creeping across the sky.
The morning light fell upon her face, making her pale yet heroic features shine brilliantly.
“You may rise, my minister.”
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