106. Once a Flitting Shadow in the Light - Grand Finale

Thirteen years had passed, and within the northern army, there was no longer a trace of Pei Xueying from those past days. Yet, every man from the North grew up hearing the heroic deeds and glorious achievements of General Feihong.

When Pei Jinghong came and went, the soldiers of the North bore him no ill will; rather, they all saluted him with reverence.

The night was clear and bright, a crescent moon hung high, and a light rain began to fall. Wen Zhi hastily shielded Pei Jinghong’s head from the drizzle, only to be gently pushed aside.

“Now that you have the military token, madam, aren’t you happy?” He sensed something was amiss in her mood and asked tentatively.

“I just feel so despicable...” Pei Jinghong frowned and sighed deeply.

“How could that be despicable? Having obtained the token, we saved the soldiers of two armies—a great accomplishment indeed,” Wen Zhi urged anxiously, his voice rising slightly.

“When I learned the whole truth, I hated Duke Cheng so deeply for his reckless passion that ruined my mother and sacrificed fifty thousand souls of the North,” Pei Jinghong lowered her head and gazed at an elongated embroidered box in her hands, which contained two brushes. “My mother lived a life of integrity and sincerity. Yet now, I have to use his folly for love, forging a blood letter to deceive the North into granting us the military token.”

The blood letter was a forgery, crafted to imitate General Feihong’s handwriting, a fabricated final will.

But to Cheng Jingyun, Pei Xueying’s last words weighed above all else. For thirteen years, the old memories never visited his dreams, and he remained restless day and night. If one day he could depart this world bearing Pei Xueying’s testament, he would die content.

“Madam, the great general watches from the heavens. He knows you acted to quell chaos and will surely forgive you,” Wen Zhi hurried to console her, but Pei Jinghong only shook her head without a word.

Back at the main camp, Pei Jinghong handed the military token to Song Gu, who, after quelling the confrontation, passed it to Fu Lancheng.

On the seventeenth day of the fifth month, the Northern General Cheng Jingyun voluntarily relinquished command over the five cities’ troops and went to court to face judgment. The court and the entire realm were in uproar, none knowing how the new emperor had quelled the Cheng family rebellion without bloodshed.

Shen Yu departed for the Western territory, Nangong Mingchen went to Liaodong, Wen Zhi returned to the North, and Fu Lancheng divided the Southern border into two, with the Min River as boundary—east of Min River was governed by the Bohai Duke, west by the Prince of Shunan.

Thus began decades of peace along the Great Yi border, laying the foundation for the later “Taixi Prosperity.”

In the second year of Taihe, shortly after the Lantern Festival, the emperor attended his first morning court.

As the assembly was about to adjourn, Minister of Rites Xie Xu suddenly stepped forward and petitioned to establish an empress. His voice rang clear and firm: “Your Majesty has reigned for over a year. Now that the realm is stable and foreign relations are smooth, I humbly urge Your Majesty to soon crown a consort, to reassure the hearts of your subjects.” The ministers all echoed his sentiment.

Fu Lancheng hesitated at the words. He had intended to do so but was uncertain of Pei Jinghong’s feelings, so he replied tactfully, “What you say is reasonable, but this matter requires further discussion. Let us postpone it for a while.”

Outside the Deqing Palace, the ministers whispered among themselves.

“Why does it seem the emperor is still considering the matter of the empress? Wasn’t there already a chosen one?”

“Of course, it must be that madam. They will discuss it properly with her.”

“What is there to discuss? Such a noble position as empress—surely she would want it?”

“Well... well... hard to say...” Earl Cheng nodded and walked toward Jiuhua Gate. These young rulers’ affairs were beyond the old ministers’ understanding.

Walking behind the officials, young Qing overheard their words and glanced at Xu Chengzhen beside him. That look nearly gave voice to his thoughts: “Indeed, the ladies of the Xu family are truly destined for greatness...”

Xu Chengzhen scratched his nose and followed reluctantly. Xu Da had already retired happily to the old family estate in Jiangdong, living the peaceful retirement he had long dreamed of. Now, only he and Lady Shen managed the Cheng’en Duke’s mansion in Guangling. His eldest sister Xu Guangyan was far away in the Eastern Sea, a long journey; his second sister Xu Zhouyan was busy with two young children at home, leaving no time to visit Guangling.

Every autumn, the mansion felt emptier, especially lonely.

When Fu Lancheng entered Jinghong Hall, Pei Jinghong was teaching the young master of the Cheng’en Duke’s mansion, Xu Zhaoyan, to walk.

“Your Majesty has returned, young master. Come here and let your uncle hold you,” Lady Yongjia smiled as she said. Fu Lancheng handed the embroidered book in his hands to the chief eunuch Zhaoyi behind him and took Xu Zhaoyan into his arms.

“He seems heavier again. Not bad,” Fu Lancheng said with a smile.

Lady Yongjia had been waiting for that very line and hurried to tug at Fu Lancheng’s sleeve. “Doesn’t Your Majesty think the young master’s features resemble his aunt very much? When he grows up, surely he will be a handsome young gentleman and captivate many maidens in Guangling.”

Fu Lancheng hummed softly and glanced at Pei Jinghong, comparing features. He thought if the child inherited even half of her looks, Lady Yongjia’s words would not be far-fetched.

“So, Your Majesty and madam should quickly have a little prince. Don’t waste such a great legacy!” Lady Yongjia deliberately raised her voice to be heard by both of them.

Pei Jinghong turned her head, embarrassed, hiding her face with a handkerchief. Fu Lancheng set the child by the window to reach the azalea flowers in the courtyard. Watching his back, slender and clear, with the bright moon above, she wondered what their child would be like.

Over the past year, she had pondered many times the nature of her feelings for Fu Lancheng. When she was Pei Zhaojin, they were childhood companions who shared everything; as Xu Guiyi, they were respectful, if distant, spouses. Now, with the Pei family’s name restored, she was the dignified Pei Jinghong.

Fu Lancheng once asked if she wished to reclaim the identity of Pei Zhaojin or Xu Guiyi, but after much thought, she chose to face the world as Pei Zhaojin’s sister.

Back then, Madam Bai bore twins in a small Jiangdong town. She also had a frail younger sister, who deserved the world’s attention as well.

She had lived a life of splendor and recklessness, braved countless trials, been loyal yet isolated, and had sought solace in both gods and men.

The first thirteen years, as the junior son of the Marquis of Wujing, she enjoyed honors and riches. Her mother was the war god of the North; her aunt, a favored imperial consort; her friend, the crown prince. Many fawned over her, granting her any wish.

The second thirteen years saw her constantly changing identities, living in fear of the annihilation of her entire clan, surrounded by hatred and loss. She schemed day and night, never trusting anyone, never revealing her true self, walking on eggshells.

Now at twenty-seven, could she enter the third phase of her life—her stage with Fu Lancheng?

She had never truly known her feelings for him—was it longing, resentment, gratitude, or the gentle flow of daily life?

Until Xu Yan sent a letter to Guangling, asking if her return was set. Indeed, now that revenge was done and the past settled, if she wished, Fu Lancheng would not stop her from returning to Jiangdong; he would even arrange everything. Yet she hesitated.

Later, when Nangong Mingchen went to Liaodong, he also asked if she wanted to visit the Snow Mountain Goddess. Again, she hesitated.

So Nangong Mingchen said, “Once, I told the then crown prince: ‘Why gaze afar at desolate mountains and rivers when it is better to cherish the one before you?’ Madam, I now offer this to you. May your life henceforth be smooth and joyous.” With a graceful bow, the noble man left the palace and the imperial city without hesitation.

And what of her? She had hesitated so long because she could not bear to part from Fu Lancheng.

Though the palace walls were high and the towers numerous, with golden winds and fine rains, with mist and snow, she watched him ascend alone to the pinnacle, wrapped in infinite glory, yet infinite solitude.

She could not bear to leave him trapped alone in this city.

She began to realize clearly that the end of her lifelong pursuit was neither the misty Jiangnan nor magnificent rivers and mountains, but by his side.

Fu Lancheng turned to her, approached, and placed Xu Zhaoyan in her arms, smiling warmly: “Ayan, give the azalea you picked to your aunt, alright?”

Beside them, Lady Shen hurriedly added, “It wasn’t Ayan who picked it; it was uncle who picked it to give to aunt.”

The hall shone with splendor, shadows flickered; in her eyes, there was only the refined, youthful face of the young man—his long hair black as ink, elegant brows and lashes, a faint smile at the corner of his lips, like springtime bursting forth amidst blooming flowers.

On the first day of the third month in the second year of Taihe, Emperor Mingxi issued an edict:

“Madam Pei Jinghong, from a distinguished and virtuous lineage, gentle, diligent, skilled in managing the inner palace, worthy as the mother of the realm, is hereby established as Empress, with golden seal and treasure. Long life and endless blessings are granted. So decreed!”

Azaleas bloomed in full splendor outside the Changqiu Palace, vibrant and radiant. Pei Jinghong opened the window and stared blankly.

The imperial physician sighed as he left the palace. “Her Majesty the Empress has twice escaped death. Her fate is precious indeed, but even with careful nurturing, I fear she will find it difficult to conceive again.”

...

She knew Fu Lancheng would not mind, but she did not wish him to face difficulties with the court officials. The emperor was already of mature age; having only one empress and no heir was difficult to justify.

In the grand and solemn Taining Palace, a towering structure standing for a hundred years since the founding of Great Yi, Fu Lancheng sat quietly on the dragon throne. Before him stood Prince An, Fu Jingchu, and Marquis Yongjia, Shen Yu.

“Your Majesty, have you truly resolved to select your heir from the Fu clan? The Empress is in the prime of life and perhaps...” Shen Yu spoke first, feeling his own children were closer to him by blood than those adopted, even if raised from infancy.

“Yes, Your Majesty, perhaps there are other methods to consider,” Fu Jingchu also urged.

Other methods? What other methods? Fu Lancheng shook his head. He wished to pass the throne to Fu Xun, but Pei Jinghong was adamantly opposed, so he had to seek another. Besides, Fu Xun’s frivolous pursuits grew daily and his political acumen waned; it might be too late to change him.

“I and the Empress are both free-spirited and do not care much for bloodline continuity.” He looked at Fu Jingchu and decided to keep it close. “I heard your secondary consort Pei Jin recently bore a son. Perhaps...” He had not finished when Fu Jingchu interrupted, “I refuse, Your Majesty. You know well I have never coveted the throne. I beg Your Majesty to spare my family.”

Fu Jingchu was of mature age, married for several years, with only a young princess from his primary wife Nangong and a little prince born six months prior to his secondary consort Pei. He would not relent.

Next to the dragon desk, Zhaoyi sighed inwardly. Both the emperor and Prince An were still young; otherwise, they would not treat imperial power with such disdain.

What Zhaoyi did not know was that both Fu Lancheng and Fu Jingchu had been raised amidst endless struggles for power, brother against brother. They were numb and fearful of this throne, bathed in blood yet shining golden and glaring.

In early spring of the fourth year of Taihe, the Empress gave birth to the emperor’s first daughter, granted the name Princess Yongchen, with the childhood name Wuxie. Afterward, the Empress’s health declined, and her hair turned white prematurely.

Sir Bai Bai wrote, saying this was the lingering injury from taking the Biyou Pearl, a divine yet potent medicine. After all, snatching life from the grasp of death always exacts a price.

In September of the same year, the emperor formally adopted the youngest grandson of the Prince of Boyang as his son, granting him the title Prince Yongning and placing him under the Empress’s care in Changqiu Palace.

In the sixth year of Taihe, Marquis Yonggu Pei Zhun turned twenty. Having trained for two years in the North with Wen Zhi, he returned to the capital to report, coinciding with Princess Yongchen’s second birthday, thus staying a few extra days.

That deep autumn, Emperor Yongyi passed away in Mingguang Palace, and the entire nation mourned.

In March of the fifteenth year of Taihe, Empress Pei died in Changqiu Palace, her hair fully white. The emperor grieved silently.

In December of the same year, Prince Yongning Fu Wuhuan was officially named crown prince, residing in Chenghua Palace. Palace staff said the young prince’s temperament resembled the Empress: firm yet gentle, kind and resolute.

In October of the eighteenth year of Taihe, Emperor Mingxi abdicated in favor of the crown prince and retired to the North Garden.

The following year, the new emperor changed the era to Xining. In the first month, Emperor Mingxi vanished from Mingguang Palace without a trace. The new emperor searched everywhere but found nothing. The only clue left was a line of poetry on his desk from the previous reign:

“Beneath the sorrowful bridge, spring waves green; once the startled swan cast its shadow here.”