Chapter 135: Just at That Time, Already Lost
The Daoist who had appeared out of thin air from the rainy night was none other than the former dean of the National Academy, Shang Xingzhou, also known as the profoundly mysterious Ji Daoren from the Taizong era.
He was the leader—or rather, the mastermind—of tonight’s events in the capital.
After his appearance, the only sounds in heaven and earth were the voices of the Heavenly Sea Holy Empress and himself in conversation.
Whether it was Zhu Luo and the Stargazer, or the fifteen princes who had already entered the capital, all remained silent—a gesture of respect, or perhaps awe.
But heaven and earth are vast, and the world is immense. In the end, there will never be only one or two voices; some other sounds are bound to emerge.
“Why must it come to this?”
A voice rang out from the canal in the southeast of the capital.
The large boat sailing through the canal slowly came to a halt.
The Daoist nun standing at the bow changed expression in an instant, reaching out like lightning—but grasping only empty air.
In the dark canal water, a peculiar red hue had been rippling all along, and now it was gradually fading away.
The next moment, a sudden light appeared in the night sky outside the Celestial Book Mausoleum, illuminating the falling rain with perfect clarity and revealing a figure within it.
It was not lightning descending from the dark clouds, but the aura generated when that figure collided with the mausoleum’s prohibitions.
The figure drifted slowly down through the rainy sky, landing on the riverbank outside the Celestial Book Mausoleum.
He was a middle-aged scholar, his long robe soaked through by the rain, yet he showed no sign of dishevelment. In his calm eyes was a captivating grace.
A small, vivid red flower was tied to the little finger of his right hand, swaying gently in the rain.
Bieyanghong.
This powerhouse of the sacred domain had also failed to breach the mausoleum’s prohibitions, blocked outside.
But since he had already raised his voice, he would continue to speak.
A sharp sound of air being rent arose.
Bieyanghong’s figure suddenly blurred, and a clear path appeared through the heavy curtain of rain. A straight line of spray rose from the river outside the Celestial Book Mausoleum.
In an instant, he had charged into the mausoleum, reaching the lowest part of the sacred path, before the stone platform.
But he could advance no further, because the Heavenly Sea Holy Empress cast a glance at him.
A bolt of lightning descended from the sky, landing before Bieyanghong.
A blinding, searing white light directly evaporated all the water in the shallow canal, leaving several thick scorch marks on the hard black stone.
Bieyanghong looked toward the top of the Celestial Book Mausoleum at the end of the sacred path, his expression grave.
In that moment just before, he had sensed a subtle shift in the breath of heaven and earth and stopped in his tracks; otherwise, he might have been struck by that lightning and gravely wounded.
The Heavenly Sea Holy Empress had merely looked at him.
The realm she revealed was terrifying beyond measure—she seemed to have vaguely grasped the ability to mobilize the laws of heaven and earth!
Everyone knew that the Holy Empress’s realm was unfathomable, but only now did they realize that all their guesses had still underestimated her!
On the northwest official road, the Stargazer lifted his head, pushing his bamboo hat up to reveal an ordinary face, a chill in his eyes.
In his wheelchair, Zhu Luo watched quietly, tapping his sword sheath lightly with his left hand—the only hand he had left.
“The capital is my home ground. You shouldn’t have chosen this place.”
The Heavenly Sea Holy Empress spoke calmly to the world.
Bieyanghong had stopped, but he could still raise his voice: “No matter where it is, we were bound to come eventually.”
“I didn’t want you to come,” the Holy Empress said, looking at him calmly. “Because I don’t want to kill you.”
Bieyanghong replied, “Since I’ve read the sages’ books, I must seek peace of mind.”
“As expected of Bieyanghong,” the Holy Empress said. “I am gratified. Among these people, I’ve always felt you were the only decent one—unique in color, unique in bearing.”
The night rain suddenly grew chaotic, turning into countless ripples. The waves on the river outside the Celestial Book Mausoleum became unruly, and the atmosphere grew slightly disturbed.
The Daoist nun had also entered the mausoleum, standing beside Bieyanghong, watching upward with a wary expression.
“The most foolish thing you’ve done in your life is to marry that thing.”
The Holy Empress said to Bieyanghong with a hint of mockery.
That Daoist nun was his wife, Wujiongbi, one of the Eight Winds and Rains.
Hearing this, Wujiongbi was furious, feeling that the sound of the night rain and that woman’s voice were unbearably irritating, but she dared not show it.
At such a time, Bieyanghong could say nothing either. After a brief silence, he said, “Your Majesty, since death is inevitable, why not grant him a quick end?”
He did not finish his sentence.
The unspoken latter half was: And then, let us fight to our hearts’ content.
…
…
“To one’s heart’s content” can sometimes be understood as pain and joy together.
Chen Changsheng was in agony at this moment, feeling no joy whatsoever, even though the night wind from a thousand miles away grew ever stronger.
Hearing Bieyanghong’s words, the Heavenly Sea Holy Empress turned sideways to glance at him. With just one indifferent look, she saw clearly the condition inside his body.
According to the Heavenly Mechanism Elder’s calculations, before he was even born, his sun wheel had been destroyed and all nine meridians severed.
Now, Chen Changsheng’s seventy-two meridians were all broken, and all three hundred sixty-five energy apertures had burst open.
He was enduring unimaginable pain, just as he had in her womb back then—except then, he had been unaware, and the only one in the world who could feel his pain was her.
Thinking of the pain she had felt carrying him, and the pain of giving birth to him, the Heavenly Sea Holy Empress frowned slightly, a trace of disgust in her eyes.
The night rain grew heavier, yet stars faintly shimmered, along with an even clearer, gentler radiance.
The Stargazer, pushing Zhu Luo in his wheelchair, also entered the Celestial Book Mausoleum.
The winds and rains from all directions had arrived.
That Daoist was somewhere in the night rain, unseen.
That monk was by a stream tens of thousands of li away.
Tonight’s capital was entirely the Heavenly Sea Holy Empress’s scheme. Now that everyone had gathered, Chen Changsheng had no further value, so naturally, he could die.
The rain falling from the night sky grew heavier, merging into threads, then into torrents, and the night wind it carried grew fiercer.
Deep within the wind and rain came rumbling thunder, and from time to time, real lightning lit up the night sky, illuminating the scene atop the Celestial Book Mausoleum.
The Heavenly Sea Holy Empress stood with her hands behind her back at the edge of the sacred path. Her peerless face bore no extra emotion. Her black hair flew behind her like a demon god.
The torrential rain could not wet a single strand of her hair, but it soaked Chen Changsheng’s clothes through.
Chen Changsheng’s face was pale, his body drenched, looking exceptionally weak and pitiful.
He gasped for breath, propping himself up on the rain-soaked ground, and struggled to lift his head to look at her.
At this moment, he was truly calm, because he had gone numb. He was utterly disappointed in this world.
The Heavenly Sea Holy Empress sensed his movement and said indifferently, “Yourong wanted to save you. I sent her away.”
When she said this, she did not turn to look at him.
Chen Changsheng’s body, numbed by cold, pain, and disappointment, softened slightly at these words. A last trace of warmth lingered in his chest.
Yes, in the end, there were still people in this world who cared about him—like Yourong, like the people at the National Academy, like Luoluo far away in White Emperor City, like his senior brother, wherever he might be…
“Thank you,” he said to her back.
He thanked her for saying this at the last moment of his life, helping him remember that there were still beautiful things in life.
That way, when he left, he might feel some reluctance from nostalgia, but at least he wouldn’t be saddened by having nothing to remember.
The rain grew heavier, flowing down both sides of the white stone sacred path toward the base of the Celestial Book Mausoleum, gathering more and more until it was almost like a waterfall, a spectacular sight.
The sound of the night rain was annoying; the downpour became a disaster. In the woods, the shadows of many beasts fleeing could be faintly seen, but the chirping of autumn insects could no longer be heard.
A squirrel leaped and darted through the trees, seemingly trying to find a suitable spot to shelter from the rain, but failing. Soon it was soaked. The rain was so heavy that even the squirrel’s normally oily, water-resistant fur couldn’t fully withstand it. Its fluffy tail drooped, and its gray fur clung wetly to its body, looking very pitiful.
If that gray fur had been dry and fluffy, the squirrel might have looked quite plump.
Just like that squirrel in the Baicao Garden woods earlier.
The Heavenly Sea Holy Empress’s gaze followed the squirrel as it moved through the trees, only withdrawing after a long while.
Here at the Celestial Book Mausoleum, powerhouses had gathered. The capital in the night rain seemed calm on the surface, but countless undercurrents were stirring.
Her rule over the Great Zhou dynasty was facing its most formidable challenge.
Yet at this moment, she was intently watching a squirrel take shelter from the rain.
What was she thinking?
“Two years ago in the palace, you should have seen a squirrel.”
She suddenly said this.
The words had no head or tail.
Chen Changsheng was dazed, not understanding what she meant.
Then, in a haze, he remembered some things.
It really was a long time ago. That night of the Green Vine Banquet two years ago, he had been lured into the Cold Palace by Mo Yu, trapped by the Tong Palace formation. To escape, he had risked going through the Life Gate into the underground, only to encounter the Black Dragon. After barely making it back to the surface, he ended up in a pond in the imperial palace.
At the time, a middle-aged woman stood by the pond, seemingly about to wash her hands or clothes.
He, in the pond, was drenched and disheveled. It was deep in the night, and the middle-aged woman seemed startled, stepping back, her wooden clogs making a sound on the green stone.
At that time, in the woods by the pond, a squirrel was eating. Startled, it dropped its fruit, leaped to the second floor of a side hall, ran along the railing, and its swinging tail knocked over a flowerpot.
The middle-aged woman had been directly beneath that flowerpot.
At that time, Chen Changsheng had just escaped his predicament and was still deep in the palace, tense and afraid of being discovered. But seeing this scene, he rushed over without a second thought.
He pulled the middle-aged woman into his arms and turned half a circle, so that even if the flowerpot fell, it would only hit his back, not her.
Fortunately, the flowerpot did not fall.
Now, thinking back, none of it was real. Because she was not an ordinary middle-aged woman—she was the Heavenly Sea Holy Empress. How could she have been frightened?
His actions at the time must have seemed so superfluous and ridiculous in her eyes, mustn’t they?
But why did she suddenly bring up that squirrel now?
Thinking of that time, Chen Changsheng felt a faint sense of loss.
…
…
(In the Grand Dictionary of Tang Poetry Appreciation, there are different interpretations of those two lines of Li Shangyin’s poem. I agree with the interpretation that “ke dai” means “what is awaited,” and “zhi shi” means “precisely” or “just so.”)