105. The Lonely Pavilion Echoes Lofty Ambitions

He turned his head and saw Wen Zhi again, speaking in a deep voice, “Wen Zhi, everyone says you died back then in the Dabie Mountains, but I never believed it. At that time, in the Jiulongshan hunting grounds, I suspected it was you—otherwise, how could the Crown Prince... no, the new Emperor now dare to go forward alone, willing to be taken hostage?”

Wen Zhi twirled the sword in his hand and sneered, “Cheng Jingyun, since the Dabie Mountains incident, this sword of mine has lived only for one purpose: to take the heads of you and the Retired Emperor. As long as you two live, my sword will never rest.”

Cheng Jingyun scoffed and ignored him, turning his gaze back to Pei Jinghong, who was clad in the pure moonlight attire. “You’ve grown up, and you no longer resemble your mother.”

Pei Jinghong lifted her head, revealing the cluster of red lotus flames burning brilliantly on her forehead. Indeed, a flicker of surprise flashed in Cheng Jingyun’s eyes.

Her features might not be like hers, but that cluster of red lotus flames...

“Ah Wei is dead? Who killed her?” Cheng Jingyun’s cold eyes burned with anger, fists clenched tightly. Beside him, Wen Zhi also gripped his sword handle firmly.

“If no one kills me, I won’t kill anyone,” Pei Jinghong said simply.

“You knew she waited for you her entire life, how could you bear to harm her?” Cheng Jingyun asked, unaware that he was the least qualified to question on behalf of Cheng Hewei.

“A Cheng’s life is a life, but a Pei’s life isn’t?” Pei Jinghong asked sharply, her gaze like a blade.

Cheng Jingyun faltered, then said, “The one who killed your mother was Fu Zongye.” Hatred surged from the depths of his heart as he dared to utter the Retired Emperor’s name openly. “The one who killed your mother was Fu Zongye.”

Wen Zhi snorted coldly. “Of course we know he killed the general, but Cheng Jingyun, do you dare say you never betrayed her? Did you not play a part in her death?”

Cheng Jingyun closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I, Cheng Jingyun, have been wild and arrogant all my life, looking down on everything, yet I held her in my heart for years—cherishing, protecting, revering, loving her. But in her eyes and heart, there was only Bai Lixi. No matter what I did, I couldn’t warm her heart.”

“So it’s true—love breeds hatred. That’s your Cheng family’s ancestral doctrine,” Pei Jinghong’s gaze was cold and her face filled with deep resentment as she took a few steps forward. “My mother always regarded you as a brother and trusted you completely. Even when she discovered your collusion with Lin Songhe, leaking the Northern Border’s defense maps, she covered for you, hoping to give you a chance for self-forgiveness. But what about you? How did you scheme against her, wound her, and leave her to die with hatred?”

“I never wanted her dead. I only wanted her to step down from commanding the Northern Border and return to Guangling, to forget Bai Lixi. It was Fu Zongye who killed her, not me. If you have the guts, go kill Fu Zongye, and I, Cheng Jingyun, will offer my head as a sacrifice to you!” His eyes were bloodshot, veins bulging as he shouted.

Wen Zhi was equally defiant. “Fine, then die now. Once you’re dead, I’ll immediately kill the Emperor of Mingguang Palace and send him with you to the afterlife!”

“Pei Zhaojin! Don’t think I don’t know—you are Pei Zhaojin!” Cheng Jingyun suddenly roared, frightening Wen Zhi, who thought he was about to attack Pei Jinghong. Drawing his long sword, he shouted angrily, “Cheng Jingyun, don’t cause trouble! You betrayed the general years ago, and now you want to harm the young lord?”

In a rush, Wen Zhi called out the title “young lord.”

Cheng Jingyun didn’t even look at him, only fixed his gaze on Pei Jinghong. “I know you won’t kill Fu Zongye. If you kill him, how could you still become Fu Lancheng’s empress?”

Pei Jinghong turned coldly. “I don’t spare the Retired Emperor because I want to be Fu Lancheng’s empress. It’s because he promised me he would personally write a self-accusation edict, to clear the grievances of the Pei clan and proclaim the truth to the world. Yes, you are right—the poison in my mother’s body was planted by the Retired Emperor. The entire Pei family was sentenced by his decree. So I want him to publicly apologize to the Pei family and restore their honor!”

For a moment, Cheng Jingyun almost shed tears. This was a wish buried in his heart for years, now fulfilled by a mere girl. “You...”

“But Duke Cheng, thirteen years ago, wasn’t the annihilation of fifty thousand souls in the Northern Border your fault? If you hadn’t colluded with Lin Songhe, they wouldn’t have been wiped out. Over all these years, didn’t you dream of them coming back to seek vengeance?” Pei Jinghong’s hands were softened from soaking in warm water; after years without grasping weapons, she couldn’t physically fight Cheng Jingyun, but her soul-scorching cultivation had reached perfection.

Cheng Jingyun lowered his head in silence, stumbling back two steps, his chest rising and falling heavily. “So it was I who started it all! I let passion cloud my judgment, causing Ah Wei’s death and the soldiers’ massacre in the Northern Border.”

Pei Jinghong guessed his torment over these years must have been unbearable, so she softened her tone slightly. “Uncle, don’t you want to know what my mother said to you before she died?”

At these words, Cheng Jingyun’s eyes lit up urgently. “Her last words? She... left a message?” When Pei Xuewei died amid the chaos, he was recuperating in Chelan City and never even saw her one last time.

He never imagined she had a final message for him. “Back then, outside Chelan City, fifty thousand troops were wiped out, and your mother died. How could she have left any last words?” The general commanding two hundred thousand troops in the Northern Border was indeed sharp.

Pei Jinghong wiped away two tears calmly and said sadly, “Everyone thought my mother died in that great battle...”

“Didn’t she?” Cheng Jingyun asked first.

“Didn’t she?” Wen Zhi echoed. “I personally went to the battlefield. After a great fire, there was no sign of any living thing.”

“Uncle, you say you loved my mother, but when you heard she died, you only cried and continued serving the Emperor faithfully. Even after discovering the true cause of her death, you never did anything for her.” Pei Jinghong raised her head, holding back tears, and said coldly, “It was Prince Mu of Daxiang who went to the battlefield, found a trace of my mother’s breath, brought her back, and invited the famous doctor Bai Bai to prolong her life with precious medicine.”

Cheng Jingyun froze, and Wen Zhi was stunned too. That fire had been a cover-up by Prince Mu to rescue General Feihong.

“Though Bai Bai was a divine doctor, he said my mother had given up on life and refused medicine, so she passed in less than a month.” Pei Jinghong covered her face, sobbing as tears soaked her handkerchief.

Cheng Jingyun knelt down in remorse, his eyes vacant, lips moving as if whispering words unknown. Wen Zhi leaned on his sword, trembling uncontrollably.

Pei Jinghong took out a bloodstained silk handkerchief from her bosom, half-kneeling before Cheng Jingyun, gently handing it to him. “Duke Cheng, look—does this bear my mother’s handwriting and her handkerchief?”

Cheng Jingyun’s hand shook uncontrollably as he accepted it, trembling. “How did you get this handkerchief?”

Pei Jinghong’s voice softened. “Prince Mu of Daxiang entrusted someone to send it over. It is my mother’s relic. Now that I’m back, it naturally should be returned to its rightful owner.”

Though aged, the bloodstains and fragrance had faded, the corner of the silk handkerchief still bore a blazing red azalea embroidered in luxurious silk from Canzhou—vibrant and unfading through the centuries.

“It’s her handkerchief.” Cheng Jingyun slowly unfolded it, revealing the words etched deep into his memory: “Though born to noble blood, proud and reckless, swift with sword and steed, I was truly foolish, so this fate is no one’s to blame but myself.” Those few words seemed to encapsulate his remaining life. He bowed his head, weeping uncontrollably. Pei Jinghong tried to support him but found she couldn’t.

Wen Zhi, unable to bear it, cursed out loud, “Cheng Jingyun, what are you pretending now? The general is dead—dead because of your schemes. Don’t cry here and make me sick!” With that, he swung his sword, the blade grazing Cheng Jingyun’s temple, sending the handkerchief flying.

Pei Jinghong gasped, quickly picking up the handkerchief and holding it carefully.

After a moment’s silence, Cheng Jingyun pleaded, “May I keep this handkerchief?”

Pei Jinghong stepped back two paces and clutched it tighter.

“What foolish wish is that? This is the general’s relic. It belongs to the young lord,” Wen Zhi growled fiercely.

Cheng Jingyun wiped the tears from his face and slowly stood. “A trade then. I’ll give the military token in exchange for this.” The room fell into stunned silence.

Had he gone mad? A bloodstained handkerchief for the military token commanding 200,000 troops in the Northern Border? Madness to say such a thing.

“Cheng Jingyun, what nonsense are you spouting?” Wen Zhi stepped forward, grabbed his collar, and punched him in the chest. Cheng Jingyun didn’t retaliate; instead, he got up and took out a wooden box, handing it to Pei Jinghong.

This was the purpose of her journey, but she hadn’t expected it to be so smooth and was momentarily at a loss. She simply handed the handkerchief back to Cheng Jingyun.

If she could trade for the military token of the Northern Border, what wouldn’t she trade? Even if Cheng Jingyun wanted her life to repay Cheng Hewei, she would agree.

He then took out a long silk box and gently opened it, revealing two paintbrushes. “These are your mother’s gifts for your thirteenth birthday. She never had the chance to give them to you. I have kept them for many years, and today... I return them to their rightful owner.”

Back then, only Cheng Jingyun was in the Northern Border, so the general’s mansion was cleaned by him. At the time, Pei Xuewei was under suspicion of treason, and much of the mansion’s belongings were confiscated by the court. Only a few personal items of hers were secretly kept by Cheng Jingyun, including these two exquisite red sable brushes.

Paintbrushes? She had told her mother she wanted to be an artist. Her mother had remembered and treasured that wish.

Pei Jinghong could hardly believe that after so many years she could receive her mother’s birthday gift again. A warm current surged in her heart, quickly replaced by overwhelming sorrow.

Before this moment, she had harbored deep hatred for Cheng Jingyun, wishing to sever his head herself to honor her mother and the fifty thousand lost souls. But now, her boundless hatred began to turn into sorrow and grievance.

For thirteen years, she had called him “Uncle” so sincerely, treating him as family! When relatives turn against each other, it cuts like flesh being torn. Her heart ached just as deeply.

Her head spun, feeling caught between ice and fire. Then, from outside the tent, a voice from the deputy general came: “General, Marquis Changping has sent someone to escort Lady Jinghong and Mister Wen.” An hour had passed; it was time for her appointment with Song Gu.

The moment had arrived.