Accord de Mu Yucheng

Chapitre 120

"It's better to marry an honest man; at least then the couple will be of one mind."

"He and I are emperor and empress, though we share different hearts—we are bound by the same fate." I sighed softly, a fleeting sadness passing through my eyes.

There is no sunlight in the embroidered forest.

I started coughing, and my whole body was shivering with cold.

In the rustling bamboo breeze, beside the cool stone table, Nangong, who prided himself on his youth and beauty, had a few strands of gray hair at his temples. I once laughed at him, saying he was already in his thirties and couldn't resist the inevitable. Nangong no longer dressed in women's clothing every day as before; he wore men's casual clothes more often. In his words, he was a father now and couldn't confuse his children. Murong was now the epitome of a loving mother and virtuous wife, capable in both the living room and the kitchen.

He said he came

But I prefer to believe that he came to pick up a young master of the Nalan family. ] He looked at me, about seven or eight steps away, and there was an emotion in his eyes, but I couldn't quite make it out.

“Nangong, I am destined to be abandoned. I was abandoned by my father at birth, and then my maternal grandfather left me. I returned to the Rong family and was married off as a pawn. Now, my father, my husband’s family, and my maternal grandfather all want to abandon me.”

"Why do you have to make me work so hard?"

"Why, after all the hard work and effort I've put in, am I still going to be abandoned?"

Nangong approached step by step, carrying the wine jar, and only extended the jar. "Want to have a drink together?" he said, taking a big gulp of wine, which slid down his lips and soaked his dark cloth clothes.

He chuckled, "From childhood, you always had to be the best at everything. Your internal strength had to be the strongest, your lightness skill the best, your swordsmanship the fastest… Even though my poetry was better than yours and we received praise from our teacher, you were unhappy for three whole months, studying poetry diligently until one day your teacher praised you too." The leader of the martial arts world—only that position could prove your existence to everyone, so you worked so hard, not allowing yourself the slightest slackening.

My heart felt frozen. I shook my head with a faint smile. "Yes, why do I have to work so hard?!"

Nangong smiled and said, "You're too tired, girl."

I closed my eyes slightly. That place, that place I had fled from for so long, was finally going to take one of my sons away: "Xi'er said he is willing to go back to the manor with you."

"Just as I thought." Nangong nodded. "But... are you willing to do it?"

"I'm afraid the one I'll miss the most is Lu Xiu." I shook my head and sighed silently.

At the end of that year, Nangong took Xi'er away, and in the end, it was this child who took over that position.

That year was bitterly cold. Lu Xiu was bedridden for a full month, mostly locking himself in Xi'er's room, neither crying nor making a fuss, neither laughing nor speaking. I know he blames me, because I chose Jing Han, leaving the world to Jing Han, so Xi'er had to leave. The struggle for the throne that occurred in the previous dynasty cannot be repeated in my son. There is no reluctance, and no injustice.

I gave Xi'er a choice, but he didn't choose the throne, so he had to take another path.

Now, I can't just say that Xi'er is my son; he is also Lu Xiu's son. So I can't face Lu Xiu; all explanations are pale and powerless.

Seeing my father again felt like an eternity, spanning three lifetimes. He was a court jester manipulating power behind the scenes, while I was the Eastern Palace mistress sitting behind the beaded curtain of the Chaoyang Palace. Our identities and respective positions seemed utterly absurd.

In the wisps of incense smoke rising from the back hall, it was just the two of us, and everything was as still as death.

“I built several bamboo houses next to your mother’s tomb, using the six-leaf bamboo that she liked.” Finally, the father sighed, “After Jinghan ascends the throne, I will retire from the world. This time, I will truly withdraw from the situation and just stay in those houses to live a peaceful life with your mother.”

I didn't respond, but just stared at the gloomy sky outside the window, the weather looking like it was about to snow.

"Your mother's death anniversary is coming soon. When will you go home to burn some incense for her? It would be a good thing that she endured ten months of hardship to carry you to your birth."

I smiled. "Father finally acknowledges she's my mother?!"

My father looked at me, his eyes stinging with pain. "Yes, she always has been."

"Father is finally satisfied?!" I immediately questioned, my words trembling with emotion.

"You—" He paused, speechless.

I turned away quietly, without looking at him. "Finally, Father has supported the young master who has Rong family blood to ascend the throne. It seems that Father has no regrets."

The father's gaze shifted to the window, then to the telephone, "I've also built a house for you, if you like it—"

"He's my husband!" I shouted, unable to control my emotions. "He's none other than your daughter's husband, your grandson's father. Yet you still made your move! Because you couldn't wait any longer. You were afraid you wouldn't live to see your grandson ascend the throne, because he promised Yao Shuhuan's son would inherit the throne. So you couldn't sit still and used the Liao people to kill him! If you hadn't informed the Liao army of our route, how could our 80,000 troops have been surrounded by flames and unable to move in or out? If you hadn't secretly obstructed us, how could the reinforcements have arrived three days late? What does being three days late mean?! It means that 80,000 corpses were burned to ashes and buried under the yellow sand. No human being... would be so inhuman and devoid of conscience."

I stared at him intently. “I have always suspected and prayed to God that you are not involved in this matter! I want to find out the truth, give an explanation to the people of the world, teach the officials of the court a lesson, and give an explanation to the soldiers who died... They did not die under the enemy’s powerful but weak horses, but at the hands of you, a treacherous and treacherous person who acted for your own selfish desires.”

My father looked at me with a strange expression, his eyes flashing with pain. I approached him step by step, my face resolute. "Who inherits the throne doesn't matter at all, as long as I don't mind, he doesn't care either. He promised to take me away. His palace in Huainan is already built. We could have left the world's clamor behind and lived a carefree life, no longer being pawns or targets. But you ruined all of that because of your own feud with the Emperor Emeritus. Do you really not know that after Lu left, I insisted on taking power, imprisoning the Emperor Emeritus, and eliminating dissidents? It was all for you! The day Yao Shuhuan's son ascends the throne will be the day the Emperor Emeritus regains control of the government, and the person he will definitely destroy is you! The late Emperor has always been very tolerant of you, trying to avoid putting me in a difficult position but putting himself in an unjust position."

Yet they treated him this way, me, and us!

The surprise in his father's eyes had vanished, replaced by boundless sorrow. He said firmly, "It's all fate!"

I smiled slightly, "It's fate, the price he has to pay for choosing me over scheming!"

He stopped speaking, but rose with trembling hands, struggled to find support, and walked step by step toward the door. His back was as stiff as a sculpture, yet it also exuded an air of unyielding stubbornness.

Three days later, without saying goodbye to anyone, the father left only a letter and quietly left Kyoto.

I received the news, but I didn't go to see him off. I didn't want to hate him anymore, but I couldn't control my emotions when I was in his presence. Rather than that, it was better not to see him.

On the first day of the first month of the fourth year of the Deyou era, at the hour of Xu (7-9 PM), in the Qiu Nuan Pavilion of the Yiyangyuan (Elderly Retirement Home), Emperor Lizong, who had been imprisoned by the Empress and the Regent for three years, died of illness. He was sixty-one years old.

I sat on the soft couch in the outer room, knowing that the old man, who once held sway over the world but was now plagued by illness and hardship, least wanted to see me. But I never expected that the last person he summoned would be young Jinghan. The child stayed by his side until his death, and even in his final moments, the Emperor Emeritus held Jinghan's small hand in his outstretched grasp.

When the news arrived from inside the hall, everyone outside knelt down in stunned disbelief, their faces blank. The prime minister emerged from the warm pavilion, trembling with sobs. Not long after, Lu Xiu and the Fourth Prince also walked out of the warm pavilion together. I watched them slowly but resolutely emerge from the deep night.

The prime minister wiped away his tears and stood up, saying, "Before the Emperor Emeritus passed away, he instructed me, 'Your grandson Jinghan is intelligent and quick-witted, closely resembling Lian Gong, and will surely be able to inherit the throne. The four princes and eight princes must devote themselves to assisting him without any disloyalty. If in the future there is any situation where an uncle usurps the throne from his nephew and disrupts the government, all of you ministers must remember today's words and vow to protect the emperor to the death.' After speaking, he turned to Jinghan and bowed deeply."

The room was instantly filled with the sound of kowtowing. Lu Xiu glanced at the kneeling crowd, his gaze lingering slightly on my face, and said, "The Emperor's will..."

She was buried with Empress Duanyi in the Western Mausoleum.

I felt a damp heat before my eyes. Aunt, you can finally stop being lonely.

The inner hall was long and cold, with Lu Xiu following behind me.

I said calmly, "Didn't he even ask me a question?"

Lu Xiu looked up at me for a moment, then lowered his head again. A cold wind blew by, and he coughed softly, his cold still not fully healed.

He left you only three words.

"Oh?" I turned around with interest, staring at Lu Xiu, the three most vicious words already in my mind. I was just waiting for Lu Xiu to calm down and blurt out the confirmation.

"I'm sorry," Lu Xiu said softly, his voice almost carried away by the wind outside the window.

"What?" I was still smiling, but my lips were trembling slightly.

“He said he was sorry.” Lu Xiu paused. “He told me I had to make sure he conveyed those three words of 'sorry' to you.”

I smiled, but the smile tasted bitter. I quickly wiped away my tears and struggled out of the inner palace. Behind me lay a throng of court officials, weeping and trembling. The cold wind couldn't dispel the turmoil in my heart. I started thinking of him again. I still remembered the day his coffin arrived at the Fengxian Hall; the cries almost drowned out the entire palace. Those cries chilled my very soul; the sound was so powerful that I could no longer hear any other sound in the world.

Lu Li—it seems this palace has forgotten those two words. The people now refer to the late emperor as the "Former Emperor," and his coffin is still enshrined in the Fengxian Hall, awaiting its move to the mausoleum. He hadn't begun construction of his mausoleum during his lifetime, and his passing was so sudden that even with round-the-clock construction, it would still take two years. It was for this reason that Lu Xiu wrote the proclamation for the new emperor's five-year mourning period before his ascension. The historians have recorded his entire life story, which I personally reviewed and approved; the eulogy on his tomb was also written by my own hand.

Even though everything about him is gradually becoming history, submerged in the torrent of time, even though I personally witnessed the truth of it all, I still don't want to verify the word "belief"...

I believe that we are still in the Deyou era, even if it becomes the first, fifth, or even tenth year of the Xuanyou era.

Faced with reality, I was so cowardly that I didn't even dare to open the coffin to look at the tomb stained with his blood; I still dare not utter those two words, for to utter them brings excruciating pain; and yet, in every unintentional moment, I cannot help but think of that figure.

What am I still clinging to? What am I still guarding for him? Is it clinging to my own unrealistic dream?! Or perhaps it's not clinging, not guarding, but simply being unable to forget. Even knowing that figure can never return after leaving, I still can't erase that final imprint in my heart, perhaps it was never truly blurred. Just like Deyou Nian, forever etched in every corner of my being.

A familiar figure gradually emerged from behind me. He looked at me with an indifferent expression, but his eyes held genuine worry. He stared at me without moving, as silent as ever.

I laughed, trembling, tears streaming down my face. I reached out, pulled up his wide robe, and held it tightly in my hand.

In the silent wind, my voice trembled more than the branches rustling in the breeze…

"Fourth Master, I want to go to... Liao Kingdom, to Shangjing."

The Liao people erected a monument to our emperors and their monarchs to warn future generations and to demonstrate their brotherly alliance.

I want to go see everything about him...

I want to see how the Liao people portrayed him as a foreign ruler, a man of great national righteousness, and awe-inspiring.

"The wind is picking up..." Fourth Master's voice gradually faded into the swirling snowflakes.

Chapter Six: Nalan Xi – I Don't Want the World

(A Confession by Xiaoxi Years Later)

For so many years, I never called that man "father," but rather simply called him "that man." My mother didn't force me, and my muddle-headed father gave no instructions whatsoever. So even knowing that the quiet, expressionless, yet refined and handsome man gave me life many years ago, nothing has changed.

Perhaps, deep down, I'm just like him; we're both people who get used to things and don't like change.

For many years, the only person who has been by my side is my muddle-headed father—a man who hates constraints, is carefree, yet has spent half his life flirting with my mother. Since his wife, who stayed at the Duan Prince's Mansion, passed away, he simply moved to Nalan Manor under the guise of supervising me and keeping me company.

A person who so detested being bound by rules was bound for half his life after acknowledging me as his son, a son whose origins were unclear.

But since moving to Nalan Manor, he's been anything but well-behaved, often engaging in ambiguous relationships with his godfather, Nangong. This has caused my mother to repeatedly issue decrees summoning me back to the palace, only to have them always abandoned due to Nangong's crying and fussing. My father, however, doesn't seem to care at all. I know his true intentions; summoning him back isn't unreasonable, and he genuinely misses my mother.

When I was ten years old, my godfather, Nangong, thought he had educated me enough, so he handed over the power of Nalan Manor and the martial arts world to me. My godfather said that my mother had also taken that position at that age, but she was lazy and became a "virtuous wife and loving mother" in her twenties and no longer came out of the mountains to interfere in the martial arts world.

I asked my godfather why my mother chose me—was it simply because I was her son?! My godfather said no, my mother chose me first, and that's how I became her son. It's all so complicated, and I'm often confused myself. I only know that I was my mother's son, lost many years ago, yet I became her son in a bizarre way. So much so that many years later, I still remember that day when my mother held me and wept uncontrollably. Only then did I understand—that for a time, my mother had lost me, even though I was right beside her.

My father had served as regent for many years, and perhaps because it had been so long, he himself could no longer control the accumulation of power, to the point that some people wanted to recommend him to replace the young emperor and rule the world. That was the first time I saw any emotion other than a smile in my father's eyes. My father executed the minister who made the suggestion, and only then did I realize the extent to which my father's power and influence had expanded—he could eliminate a prime minister who was among the most powerful officials without any procedure or effort.

Although my mother didn't comment on it, as if she were completely unaware of the prime minister's sudden death, I knew it was because she knew all too well.

She knew her father would leave, even if it was for her and Jinghan's sake. Her father said he also had many constraints; sitting in that position, he couldn't do as he pleased. She spent an entire night judging his petition to relinquish his title and retire, ultimately writing only two words: "Not permitted." She trusted him more than she trusted herself; she wouldn't allow anyone to abandon her again for any reason.

I used to hide in the heated room of the Chaoyang Palace, quietly watching my mother listen to state affairs in the main hall. Sometimes she frowned, sometimes she nodded. She pondered every word of the ministers, seemingly unwilling to miss a single word. My father said she was too tired. My godfather said so too. I often wondered, when could she rest? Would she wait until Jinghan grew up? Jinghan always looked older than other children his age. Perhaps it was because he had to shoulder more responsibilities from a young age. I often felt Jinghan looked familiar. Not only because he was my younger brother, but also because he resembled that man more. Of my siblings, it's said that my older sister and I resembled our mother. Only Jinghan resembled that man the most. His calm, thoughtful expression was exactly like his. No wonder my mother always stared at him in a daze. In my memory, my mother didn't spoil Jinghan. From the moment he was born, she displayed the stern authority of a strict father. She was harsher on him than on anyone else. But I know that it was precisely because she expected so much from him that she couldn't spoil him.

I still vividly remember my mother's conversation with me. Many years later, my memories of the palace and my mother are limited to that time in the Chaoyang Hall. She lifted me onto the dragon throne. The throne was so high, so high that I dared not look down. I felt as if I were standing on a cloud, about to fall and shatter into pieces at any moment. She stood far away from me, only her voice echoing throughout the Chaoyang Hall. She solemnly asked me if I wanted the world!

She showed no favoritism. She only needed someone who could stand atop solitude and bear all loneliness. Whether it was me or Jingxi. She said I was the eldest son, the one closest to that position. That was all she said. Then she came to ask for my opinion.

She desired peace and stability in the realm. This would inevitably force the departure of another crown prince who threatened the throne. I knew that if I chose the throne, Jinghan would leave her in my place. Jinghan was not yet five years old that year. Sending away such a young child would surely be more painful than sending me away! I had only one thought in my mind. I was not afraid of being alone. I did not care about the fate of the realm. I just didn't want her to suffer anymore. She had already suffered enough!

She's been through so much without me, and she's managed to get through it all. Maybe this time, leaving, she can do it too. I want Jinghan to stay. That way, when she looks at him, it's like she's looking at that other man. This palace is too painful. I'm afraid that without Jinghan, without that last bit of hope, she won't be able to hold on.

I finally spoke. I made the final choice.

I said I wanted to go to the mountain resort with my godfather, and I said I missed Uncle Shui. But what I really wanted to say was that I didn't want to leave her. I was afraid that the longing would accumulate into pain, that her image would gradually fade and blur in my memory, and that this time it wouldn't be her who lost me, but me who lost her.

I left

The sky was incredibly overcast, yet no snow fell. She didn't come to see me off, nor could she. I walked with lonely steps, not daring to look back, yet I could clearly feel her standing in the shadows of the city tower, watching me leave. She was teaching me to adapt to solitude; to rule Nalan Manor, to hold another world in one's grasp, also required a degree of loneliness.

That day, I followed behind my godfather. After a long silence, he finally spoke, "She loves you very much, and perhaps... the one she fears losing most is you."

I nodded. She truly loved me, which was why she didn't confine me to the lonely depths of the palace, preferring instead to give me freedom, a boundless and unrestrained sky. She placed Jingxi in that solitary position, her heart aching even more, for she gained a young emperor but lost a son in the process. She had lost me once, and didn't want to lose me again. And I… I was merely leaving.

At thirteen, five years after I left the capital, Jinghan's imperial power was so solid that no one could shake it. This young prince on the throne possessed a self-awareness and sensitivity to power far beyond his years, even though he was not yet ten. My father knew it was time for him to withdraw completely. This time, my mother did not insist; it is said she merely smiled and granted his request. When I received Jinghan's letter, I was stunned. My biggest concern was whether my father could truly bear to let him go!

He lived a carefree and happy life with his father at the mountain villa. Although he complained about how pleasant his days were every day, I knew that his happiest times were during the years when his mother returned home. And whenever she left, he would often stand motionless by the window for a long time, even though her figure was no longer there.

My unruly father never mentioned how much he loved my mother, but I knew that though he smiled insincerely, he cared more than anyone else. He longed to stay by her side, even if it meant only watching her silently.

He loved her his whole life. This love was complex, containing admiration, pity, mutual understanding, and gratitude for a soulmate. It was a love mixed with too much respect and longing. His love was too high, ultimately unattainable.

The way he looked at me was a mixture of emotions he felt when looking at his mother. So I firmly believe that when he gazed deeply at me, he was simply trying to find that familiar look in my eyes. My godfather Nangong once said that I was born with eyes similar to my mother's, while Jinghan took after that man, which is why my mother sometimes looked at him and forgot how time was passing.

My strongest memory of that man is of him, hand on his forehead, brows furrowed, handling one thorny political matter after another, yet he paused in surprise when I mistakenly entered the Chaoyang Palace, looked up at me, and smiled calmly. His smile was beautiful, unlike my father's dazzling brilliance; his eyes were gentle, and his smile only brought a sense of coolness. At that time, he didn't know I was his son. He simply stepped forward, curiously staring into my eyes, his gentle smile unchanged, "Your features are very beautiful, very much like someone."

"Like my mother." I remember answering like that. Even though I knew that he, the emperor, was extremely stern and aloof, I wasn't afraid of him at all. Instead, I sat on his lap and answered decisively. My father always told me that I resembled my mother, and I had no doubt about that. I felt that I was simply stating a fact.