Die Liebe eines Sterblichen in der nördlichen Song-Dynastie

Kapitel 8

Reply [57]: Reading posts but not replying!

---Yiyang 1976

Reply [58]: ding

---Xiaoye

Reply [59]: It's too long, I'll save it for later ^_^ ---hermanhgw Reply [60]: I've read the first one, I'll bookmark it first!

Touching! Perhaps it's because we resonated with each other~~~~~

---Golden Bear

Reply [61]: Classic Story Six: Snow Princess

Author: Unknown! Who knows?

The night is still young.

The magnificent palace was filled with an atmosphere of singing and dancing.

Glazed tiles, white jade screens, golden and green pillars, and brocade imperial couches. The proud emperor sits high above, his beautiful concubine tightly embraced in his arms.

His Highness's courtiers were also immersed in the joyous singing and laughter, having long forgotten day and night, unaware of how many years had passed outside their windows. Yet, one man sat upright, his cold gaze sweeping over the revelers—the alluring dancers, the intoxicated emperor—before his eyes finally settled on the emperor's favorite concubine. As if sensing the man's gaze, the concubine, dressed in magnificent silk, turned her head to meet his eyes. Naturally beautiful, meticulously dressed, her eyebrows arched high, a few strands of black hair gently framing her alluring eyes, a small red mole beneath her eye, and a bewitching smile—the woman was breathtakingly beautiful.

Their eyes met in the desolate, decadent air, and after a brief, intense exchange, she smiled even more brightly and alluringly, while he remained unmoved.

She was the emperor's most beloved concubine—Consort Rong.

He was the emperor's most trusted general—the General Who Protects the Nation.

Years later, he would often think back to the day they first met, a memory from a long time ago.

In my memory, there are falling snowflakes and oppressive north winds. As a young boy, he galloped across the snow-covered plains, his youthful spirit so exhilarating and carefree, only to come to an abrupt halt when he encountered a lost girl. The beautiful girl had her jet-black hair tied with an elegant gold knot, and her large, clear eyes were red from crying. A small red mole under her eye added a touch of allure and charm beyond her years.

At that time, he was Shangguan Zhao, the eldest son of the former dynasty's general, and she was Princess Anping, the most beloved daughter of the former dynasty's emperor.

And so, unexpectedly, she entered his life and never left. Like the snow fairy described in the book, once they meet the one destined for them, they can never be separated for life, until they die.

Back then, he would always wait outside her palace at dawn, helping this mischievous princess sneak out of the palace so they could play together in the vast fields. In spring, the meadows were always covered with all sorts of flowers: lilacs, forsythia, and roses. The spring breeze, carrying the fragrance of grass, brushed against their soft hair, ruffling her bun. He would always have to re-braid her hair and then insert a half-open rose into it, but because of his clumsiness, he always made her hair even more tangled. But she never blamed him. With her hair all messy, she would hold his hand, sit on the grass, and watch the sunset every day, watching the blood-red sunset, watching the shimmering, colorful light and shadow of the evening glow.

One day, she found a thin red thread and tied it to the little finger of his and her right hand, connecting them. The girl giggled and said, "The palace maids said that two people whose right little fingers are tied together by a red thread will never be separated for life, forever!"

The girl's big eyes blinked, gleaming with the light of the morning sun.

Back then, she would always coax her father into allowing him to enter the palace. The two of them would play hide-and-seek among the magnificent walls and pavilions, listen to the Grand Tutor's lectures together, and listen to the old palace maids tell strange stories they had never heard before. It was also during that time that she heard a legend that in ancient times, women would cut off their right little finger before they died and give it to the person they loved.

Wouldn't that break their red thread of fate? The little girl pouted in dissatisfaction.

The old palace maid smiled kindly and said, "Your Highness, the person is dead. How can there be any fate now?"

She was still not satisfied. I would never do that. Even if I die, I want him to remember only me for the rest of his life.

At that moment, they secretly held each other's hands tightly.

Author: Drunken Traveler Reply Date: 2003-07-10 01:15:00 Anping, peaceful and auspicious, the emperor had placed too many expectations on his daughter. However, as the years passed and the world changed, in just a few years, the imperial family's fate was sealed. In the year 112002 of the Jing Kingdom calendar, the enemy army swept through the capital with unstoppable momentum.

When he rushed back from the south, a thousand miles away, the palace had already fallen. Its former glory and splendor were reduced to shattered fragments; crimson blood congealed on the bright yellow carpets, and countless holes were poked into the delicately painted orchids on the windows. Corpses were everywhere—the bodies of palace maids, eunuchs, princes and princesses, empresses and concubines, and even the bodies of former emperors—their eyes wide open in resentment, never closing until death. But she was not among them.

A surviving palace maid told him that Princess Anping had been taken away by the emperor of the enemy country. She was supposed to be killed along with the other members of the royal family, but just as the executioner's blade fell, she raised her head and smiled at her father's killer. No one could resist her smile; it was so alluring, so seductive, with a drop of blood still splattered on her lips from when the empress was killed—a beauty bordering on bewitching. In that instant, she captivated the king.

The red silk veil he was holding suddenly fell to the ground, the golden phoenix embroidered on it with broken wings. It was a bridal veil that he had specially ordered from the south to wear for her.

---Fish and shrimp

Reply [62]: We met again at the coronation ceremony of the new emperor.

She was the emperor's newly appointed concubine—Consort Rong.

He was the emperor's newly appointed general—the General Who Protects the Nation.

She stood beside the emperor, her gaze slowly sweeping over the assembled officials, her smile alluring, growing even more radiant when she saw him. He noticed that her eyes were no longer smiling; the clear, bright light was gone, replaced by seduction, coldness, and hatred.

Princess Anping of the previous dynasty is dead; what remains is Consort Rong of the current dynasty.

Shangguan Zhao also died, leaving behind only a man called Zhenguo General.

He knew his official position was bestowed upon him by the emperor at her request; it was a position created to protect the palace, and she wanted to keep him by her side. He clearly remembered the night he was granted the position, by the camellia trees in the royal garden, when she coldly looked at him and said, "You will never leave me, because this is what you owe me, and what you all owe my father!" She plucked a few camellia petals, crushed them cruelly, and the red sap flowed out, like a hand covered in blood. He knew she hated him, she hated everyone, all those who clung to life, including herself.

His right hand unconsciously bent, and he didn't know if the red thread was still on his little finger.

Whether on outings, tours, or banquets, the emperor was always accompanied by the young and beautiful Consort Rong, and he increasingly believed her words. Within just three years, most of the officials who had betrayed the previous dynasty were persuaded by Consort Rong to be executed by the emperor on various pretexts. One general, who had personally murdered Consort Rong's mother, was falsely accused of deceiving the emperor and sentenced to death by a thousand cuts, along with his entire family.

On the day of the execution, the Emperor, accompanied by Consort Rong, watched the entire process. The general being executed wailed incessantly, glaring at Consort Rong and cursing, "You vixen! I curse you to a horrible death!" Consort Rong, delicate and frail, collapsed into the Emperor's arms, trembling uncontrollably. This stirred the Emperor's pity, and he quickly and tenderly cared for her, worried she couldn't bear such a bloody scene. But he knew how she had looked over his shoulder, coldly watching the man die a gruesome death, her eyes burning with a vengeful fire more alluring than the finest peony.

Some court officials had advised the emperor to distance himself from the unresolved issues of the previous dynasty and to prevent the concubines from interfering with the court. The next day, an imperial edict was issued, and the official was given poisoned wine to commit suicide. Before his death, the official angrily left a will, stating, "As long as this vixen is not eliminated, there will be no peace in this dynasty."

From then on, the infamous demoness spread far and wide, becoming a lingering ghost of the former dynasty's royal family, relentlessly devouring the current court.

---Fish and shrimp

Reply [63]: The night was cool as water, and the lanterns hanging under the eaves shed red tears in the autumn wind.

He stood guard outside the palace, one of his duties. Every day he watched the emperor embrace her as they entered the palace with its curtains drawn, then numb his senses with the chill of midnight. And always at midnight, Consort Rong would leave the palace alone and sit on the railing not far from him, her long, black hair cascading down, obscuring her expression. He didn't know what she was looking at, whether she was crying or laughing, and he felt a chill creep down his spine.

The space between two people is always used to torment each other.

She was silent, and he was silent too. Sometimes she would walk up to him, gaze at him intently, and say nothing, simply reaching out to touch his brow. Her right hand, pale and almost translucent, trembled slightly as it slowly slid down his cheek. Moonlight seeped into her eyes, and in that moment she became incredibly vulnerable, all her sorrow and pain reflected in them. He wanted to embrace her, but his hands wouldn't move. They remained in this stalemate, which would always end with her leaving. He knew that when the sun rose, she would once again be the alluring yet ruthless Consort Rong.

My right little finger suddenly started to hurt, as if a thin thread was cutting into it, and then deeper.

The following winter, Consort Rong gave birth to a beautiful princess. The emperor was overjoyed and ordered a general amnesty. For a month, the palace was filled with celebration. Consort Rong held her child, nestled beside the emperor, and smiled with utmost happiness.

One day, after the Empress made her routine visit to Consort Rong's palace, the newborn princess fell silent. Someone had strangled the tiny child. Consort Rong fainted upon seeing the baby's body and remained unconscious for several days. She was finally revived by the imperial physician, but she wept incessantly, heartbroken. The Emperor was furious and, disregarding the objections of his court officials, banished the Empress to the Cold Palace.

As the long-haired empress was dragged into the Cold Palace by the guards, she was still shouting, "I didn't do it! I didn't do it! Consort Rong, you despicable and vicious woman!"

Two days later, news arrived that the Empress had committed suicide by poison in the Cold Palace. It was said that her death was gruesome; her eyes bulged out and her mouth was wide open, as if she were cursing someone before she died. Upon hearing the news, the Emperor was also saddened and gave the Empress a grand funeral.

From then on, Consort Rong became Empress and moved from Consort Rong's Palace to the Hibiscus Palace, where the Empress resided.

Hibiscus Palace was filled with all sorts of flowers, and in winter, the courtyard was ablaze with snow-white plum blossoms. Just as night fell, he saw her, dressed in a white gown, sitting on the railing of the long corridor, her bare feet swaying in the air. Seeing him, she smiled slightly, "General, please sit with me for a while." He walked forward without thinking and sat down beside her. She leaned on his shoulder, as naturally as she had years ago, her long hair falling onto his hand, slightly cool.

Do you know? She's dead. My child is dead. She murmured.

I killed her myself.

His body trembled slightly; the answer he already knew was now real and shocking to him when he heard it with his own ears.

Her neck was so thin and soft. I didn't use any strength at all, and she didn't struggle... But I knew she was shouting and crying out. She said, "Mother, don't kill me! Don't kill me!"

Consort Rong became so emotional that her body trembled uncontrollably as she gripped his clothes tightly, as if she were clinging to a piece of driftwood she had stumbled upon in a raging storm.

I killed the Empress too. Before she died, she cursed me, calling me a monster and saying I deserved a terrible death. Am I a monster? Am I? I'm human... aren't I?

Consort Rong gripped his arm tightly, looked deeply into his eyes, and awaited his answer.

There was no response.

"Take me away! Take me away! Zhao! Take me away!" Almost pleading, she suddenly cried out, her red beauty mark trembling. He held her tightly, knowing their souls were slowly decaying, riddled with holes, never to return to their original whole. He comforted her, just as he had done years ago whenever she was sad. He said, "I'm here, I'm by your side, Bingluo, don't be afraid, I'm here with you."

Suddenly, her body stiffened, and she pushed him away.

"Bingluo?" she repeated.

"Bingluo?" she repeated.

Princess Anping, Zhao Bingluo? She smiled.

No Bingluo, no… I am Consort Rong, I am the Empress.

There is no ice.

She turned slowly and walked towards the Hibiscus Palace. Her back was white and slender, weak and helpless. The Hibiscus Palace seemed like a beast with its jaws wide open, slowly swallowing her up with darkness.

He couldn't see if the red thread on her right hand was still there.

---Fish and shrimp

Reply [64]: History always repeats itself. What happened in 2009 was not much different from what happened in 2002.

Before the hibiscus bloomed in June, a rebellion broke out on the frontier, and the rebel army reached the capital within a month. The emperor's neglect had already depleted the country's strength, and the army was weak; even if the city gates were closed, they could not hold out for more than a few days. The palace was in an uproar, with concubines, palace maids, and eunuchs fleeing in all directions. The once glorious emperor huddled on his dragon throne, trembling incessantly.

After the capital fell, the General Who Guards the Nation defected to the rebels, followed by many other officials and soldiers. The rebels quickly occupied the capital, executed the emperor on the spot, and the empress, that woman with a notorious reputation among the people, the rebel leader, and the new emperor, decided to execute her on the day of his coronation. The new emperor immediately appointed the former General Who Guards the Nation, Shangguan Zhao, as the executioner.

On the day the new emperor ascended the throne, the weather was exceptionally fine; the sun shone brightly, and the lotus flowers in the pond bloomed in profusion. She emerged from the prison, dressed in a snow-white prison uniform, her jet-black hair flowing down her back, casting a shadow of fleeting time. She was escorted through the streets and alleys, her face calm, her demeanor serene, as if she were attending a banquet rather than going to her death. A stir arose in the crowd; some threw stones at her. Look, it's that vixen! A stone struck her forehead, drawing a few drops of blood, but she didn't even flinch, continuing on her way.

Upon arriving at the execution ground, she saw him, and he saw her. Their eyes met in mid-air, locked tightly, neither willing to look away, afraid of losing their last moments.

At that moment, he wanted to rush forward, embrace her tightly, and take her away from there, even if it meant sacrificing the lives of his entire family of 120. However, she acted faster than him. She shoved aside the soldiers beside her and charged at him. Amidst the screams of the onlookers, she pulled out a dagger hidden in her bosom and slashed down fiercely.

A severed finger, slender, white, and delicate—the little finger of his right hand—fell before him.

The soldier who caught up with her seized her dagger and pinned her down. Blood dripped incessantly from her right hand, staining her white sleeve crimson. She looked up at him, and suddenly, large tears fell from her eyes, sliding down her cheeks, blurring the red beauty mark on her face. They fell to the ground, mingling with the blood, making it impossible to distinguish whether they were tears or blood.

Her eyes were still so clear and bright, gleaming with the light of dawn when she blinked.

He didn't know what happened afterward; he forgot many things. He only remembered that her eyes were always looking at him, and that her beautiful head was still looking at him even as it left her body.

He knew she was talking to him.

She said, "Forget me, our fate is over."

The red thread has broken.

---Fish and shrimp

Reply [65]: Historical records state that in December of the 12009th year of the Gregorian calendar, the border was in dire straits. The newly appointed general, Shangguan Zhao, volunteered to defend the border, and died in battle a year later.

After his death, his subordinates were sorting through his belongings when they found a red package on his chest. Curious, they opened it. It was made of high-quality red silk, delicately embroidered with beautiful phoenixes in gold thread, like a bridal veil. What profound secret did they discover as they unwrapped it layer by layer?

A piece of white bone, a very thin piece of white bone, about the size of a woman's little finger, lay gently on the scarlet satin, as if they had belonged to each other long ago.

Long afterward, his subordinates still often talked about him. Especially the soldiers who were by his side, they always remembered the scene of the day he died in battle.

It snowed heavily that day, and he was still smiling before he passed away, his gaze fixed on some unknown place, as if he had seen some of the most beautiful scenery in the world.

They are still wondering what General Shangguan saw at that time.

What did he see?

What is it?

What else could it be?

She was a demon, the beautiful snow demon with whom he was destined to be entangled for life from the first time he saw her.

What he saw was a vast expanse of white snow, and a beautiful girl standing in the snow, her black hair tied with a golden knot, her clear eyes with a red beauty mark under her eye, smiling gently at him.