Chapter 23 Farewell, I hope you will be a wise ruler and protect the country.

Shen Zhiwei's health was sometimes good and sometimes bad, and it did not improve despite the stability of the new dynasty.

She is like an old zither, which can still produce clear sounds, but the strings are loose and the wood is rotten.

She was plagued by coughs, afraid of cold and wind, and rarely left her bed in autumn. No matter how strong her fever was, her fingertips were always cold.

Xu Shu's hair and beard grew even grayer, his brow furrowed deeper. He changed prescriptions again and again, using rare and precious herbs, but ultimately, he could only delay the disease, not defy fate.

The imperial desk where Xiao Wangqing reviewed memorials had long been safely moved to her outer warm room. Whenever the Emperor took a break from handling state affairs, he could always hear a muffled cough from the inner chamber. Then his red brush would pause, only to resume writing when the coughing subsided.

He was very clingy to her.

Unless it was necessary for a court meeting, he would hardly leave the palace. The ministers had long been accustomed to hearing the occasional gentle breathing or the sound of pages turning from the inner room during their reports. They were also accustomed to the fact that His Majesty was often absent-minded, his eyes always glancing at the falling pearl curtain.

As the autumn rain began to fall, Shen Zhiwei felt a little better. Wrapped in a thick blanket, he leaned against the soft couch by the window, watching the remaining osmanthus trees in the courtyard being blown down by the rain, leaving the ground covered with broken gold. Xiao Wangqing sat not far away, frowning as he reviewed a memorial regarding taxation in a border city.

Shen Zhiwei suddenly smiled very lightly.

Xiao Wangqing immediately looked up: "What's wrong?"

"I remember your Highness...the former Crown Prince was always arguing with court officials over the amount of taxes at the border markets," she said, her eyes curved, her tone flat, her gaze still fixed on the window. "He always tried to lower the tax too low, showing favor to the barbarians in order to maintain temporary peace on the border."

Xiao Wangqing put down his pen, walked over to her couch and sat down, then naturally took her slightly cold hand into his palm to warm it.

"My royal brother is always good at using gentle tactics," he snorted, a hint of gloom flashing across his eyes, but he quickly suppressed it and lowered his head to rub her fingers. "Little do you know that border troubles are like scabies, and temporary peace will inevitably lead to great chaos. Using war to stop war and using profit to consolidate the border is the long-term solution."

Shen Zhiwei hummed and said nothing more. She had been like this recently, suddenly recalling some fragments of Xiao Lingjun, not about love or hate, but just suddenly remembering it and speaking it out.

At first, Xiao Wangqing was nervous, his jaw clenched, his eyes dark and frightening. Later, realizing she was merely remembering him, not reminiscing about him, he simply listened, occasionally adding a few words, trying hard to obliterate those traces of his brother with his own presence.

Shen Zhiwei herself was quite calm. When she had nothing to do, she would lean against the window and watch the birds in the courtyard land on the branches and then scatter away.

When she occasionally thought of Xiao Lingjun, it wasn't the conspiracies and schemes she'd devised, or his near-mad control in the end, that made her think of him. She often thought of the young crown prince in the East Palace study many years ago, whose ears would turn slightly red at her compliments.

She remembered him holding her cold hand and asking her for advice on every stroke of his policy paper.

Remembering the coldness of the dungeon, he took off his fox fur coat and wrapped it around her trembling body, saying, "Don't be afraid."

Time has filtered out the sharp edges of memory, leaving only a vague and soft outline, placed in the corner, covered with dust, occasionally brushed by the eyes, emitting a faint light.

Xiao Wangqing spent most of his time in the side hall where she handled official business, under the pretext of discussing state affairs, but in reality it was often Shen Zhiwei reviewing memorials while he watched from the side, either grinding or serving tea, like a silent and clumsy servant.

He was now a true emperor, his brows brimming with authority. In the court, he was decisive and ruthless, and no one dared to look him in the face. But when he was in front of Shen Zhiwei, the coldness he had honed in the Northern Frontier disappeared, and he often seemed at a loss.

After Shen Zhiwei coughed for a long time, he became restless and looked anxious.

If Shen Zhiwei needed to take a nap at his desk due to lack of energy, he would send his attendants away and stand by his side motionless for two hours, even breathing lightly.

He even began to collect all kinds of strange folk remedies and auspicious items and put them in front of her without caring whether they were pharmacological or not. He just looked at her eagerly, hoping that she would smile or nod and say that it was okay.

That day, he brought another brocade box, which contained no medicinal herbs but a crudely carved cat statue. The material looked like neither wood nor stone, and it exuded an ancient and strange aura.

"What is this?" Shen Zhiwei picked up the palm-sized kitten and looked at it carefully. It looked into her eyes, its face blurred except for two dark stones embedded in its eyes.

"My mother's tribe... sent me a message the other day. They say there's been some unusual activity at the altar of the ancient deity we worship. The elders say it might be the deity's mercy," Xiao Wangqing said vaguely, his eyes drifting elsewhere. "They say that worshiping this deity can... wash away sins and grant a chance for a new beginning."

He scoffed before he finished speaking, clearly not really believing it. His fingertips unconsciously stroked the base of the statue. "That's ridiculous. I didn't mean to bother you with it. But... what if?"

Shen Zhiwei put down the statue, her eyes glancing over his tightly pursed lips and the dark circles under his eyes. She remembered Jingshu secretly telling her that His Majesty had been sitting alone in the ancestral temple late at night, sometimes for the entire night.

She sighed softly, "Your Majesty is the Son of Heaven. The Emperor governs the people on behalf of Heaven. Why would you seek the help of a foreign deity? As for my sins... if I were to truly rank them, I have committed no less than your Majesty in every aspect of conspiracy and oppression."

"If the gods really had eyes, they probably wouldn't bother to tell who deserves death more, you or me," she paused, tilting her head slightly. "For the living to live well is the greatest comfort to the deceased. Asking gods or ghosts is not as good as asking your own heart."

Xiao Wangqing fell silent for a long time before he nodded lightly, quietly put the statue back into the box, and never mentioned it again.

For a moment, the only sounds in the side hall were the rustling sound of Shen Zhiwei's pen tip scratching across the paper, and the occasional bird calls from outside the window.

Xiao Wangqing did not leave. He just changed his seat and sat under the window not far from her couch. He picked up a memorial that she had reviewed and seemed to be flipping through it, but his eyes did not move for a long time.

After Shen Zhiwei finished marking the last book, he put down his pen and rubbed his swollen eyebrows.

She raised her eyes and saw the silhouette of her own emperor staring at the memorial in a daze, and she felt a sense of pity for no reason.

Like a large dog whose fur is wet in the rain and doesn't know where to go.

She suddenly found it funny, and the corners of her lips actually curved up slightly.

Xiao Wangqing seemed to sense something and suddenly looked up. She saw the panic in his eyes that he hadn't managed to hide. He subconsciously wanted to look away, but he forced himself to hold back, his Adam's apple moving slightly. "Are you tired? Rest for a while."

Shen Zhiwei extended his hand towards him.

Xiao Wangqing was startled, and hurriedly stood up and went over, half-knelt in front of the couch, took her slightly cold hand into his palm, and carefully warmed it: "What do you want? Tea? Or is it cold?"

She shook her head and scratched his palm very lightly with her fingertips.

"Your Majesty," she said with a smile, "you are holding the memorial upside down."

Xiao Wangqing's ears suddenly felt hot, and he turned around to glance at the memorial he had just put down. Sure enough, it was upside down. He was stunned for a long time looking at the reversed words.

A trace of embarrassment crept up his brows. He pursed his lips and silently held her hand tighter, as if this could cover up his previous loss of composure.

Shen Zhiwei let him hold her hand, her eyes fixed on his downcast brows. Xiao Wangqing's touch was never sexual, and she was uncomfortable at first, but gradually got used to it.

The hall was quiet for a moment, with only the sound of rain tapping on the eaves outside the window.

She whispered, "Your Majesty, if I leave..."

Xiao Wangqing suddenly clenched her hand, almost crushing her finger bones with such force, but then realized he had lost his composure and hurriedly let go, his eyes already a terrifying red: "Don't say it."

He was breathing rapidly, his chest heaving violently. His hands, which had not trembled when he stepped on a mountain of corpses to rescue her during the bloody battle on the long street that day, were now shaking badly.

Shen Zhiwei looked at him silently and smiled.

She suddenly felt tired, not physically, but mentally. All the calculations, worries, and plans for her afterlife seemed to have lost their weight at that moment.

She turned her hand and, using the little strength she could muster at the moment, grasped his trembling fingers.

"Okay, then I won't tell you."

Xiao Wangqing's tense shoulders suddenly relaxed, and he rested his forehead on the back of her hand as if exhausted, his breathing heavy and moist.

"I," his voice muffled against her slightly cool skin, "I've had some high-quality silver charcoal found. The earth dragon will burn warmer tonight. Xu Shu said winter is approaching, so we need to be extra careful."

He rambled on about these trivial arrangements.

Shen Zhiwei listened quietly, her fingertips gently brushing across the top of his hair.

The snow in late winter came quietly at night. When I opened the window in the early morning, the outside was already covered with white snow.

Shen Zhiwei had a rare good night's sleep. When she woke up, she heard the sound of palace maids sweeping snow outside. She sat up and saw a patch of white light through the window. She was actually more energetic than usual.

"Jingshu." She called softly.

The young palace maid hurriedly lifted the curtain and came in, her eyes full of joy: "Young Master, are you awake? You look so good today. His Majesty came to see you before the morning court and saw that you were asleep and didn't let anyone wake you up."

Shen Zhi smiled and said, "I want to go out and see the snow."

Jing Shu was stunned, then embarrassed: "It's windy outside, and Judge Xu said you can't catch a cold..."

"Just for a moment," Shen Zhiwei looked out the window, "put on something thicker for me."

Jingshu couldn't resist, so she took out the thickest silver fox fur, stuffed a hand warmer in it, wrapped her up tightly, and then carefully helped her to the corridor.

The snow shone brightly, making her face, which hadn't seen the sun for a long time, appear even more transparent. Shen Zhiwei leaned against the pillar, watching the eunuchs sweep the snow into piles, and whispered, "Everyone, go down."

Jing Shu hesitated: "Sir..."

"That's all right," she smiled. "I want to be alone for a moment."

The palace maids finally left, leaving the courtyard deserted and silent, save for the soft rustle of snow falling on the branches. She walked forward, slowly bending down, the hem of her fox fur coat soaking in the still-unswept snow, quickly turning a darker shade.

She had built snowmen before, with her younger sister and Xiao Lingjun.

Later, my younger sister passed away, and Xiao Lingjun also passed away.

She shook her head, hunched over as she recalled how to make a snowman, and used her cloak to mold a human figure. Then, rather unethically, she broke off some plum branches and inserted them into both sides of the snowman as arms.

…

She broke off half of the branch from the snowman's left hand.

The wound on his left wrist still hurts. Whether it was the former tutor Shen or the current tutor Shen, he has always been a vengeful person.

But the way of revenge is very childish.

After all, she couldn't do anything to the emperor. The country was stable and happy.

That's all right; a dying man has nothing more to ask for.

This country cannot afford another war.

*

The snow stopped.

Xiao Wangqing put down his red brush and rubbed his brow. After a sleepless night, the handwriting on the memorial was a little blurry. He looked up at the draped brocade curtains in the inner hall. It was quiet there, not even a cough.

The silence made him feel relieved, but he also felt a little uneasy.

At this time of day on weekdays, she should be awake, with a few suppressed coughs or a slightly hoarse voice calling Jingshu to pour tea.

But today it is too quiet.

He stood up, walked over lightly, and lifted a corner of the curtain with his fingertips.

She was not on the couch.

The fox fur coat is also gone.

Xiao Wangqing frowned, turned, and quickly walked out of the hall. The eunuchs waiting at the door hurriedly bowed, but before they could say anything, the emperor had already swept across the steps like a gust of wind.

Then, he saw it.

Under the plum tree in the southeast corner of the courtyard, she was wrapped in a thick silver fox fur coat, with her back to him, as if she was looking at something in the snow.

The fresh snow had just cleared, and the dim morning light outlined her thin and fragile figure.

Before her stood a small, crooked snowman, with two plum branches inserted as arms. One of the branches had been broken in half, leaving a fresh end.

Xiao Wangqing stopped in his tracks.

"Master Shen?" He called out, his voice so dry that it was unfamiliar to him.

She didn't look back or move.

The wind stopped in the courtyard and everything was silent.

Xiao Wangqing walked over step by step. He was already much taller than Shen Zhiwei. The old emperor named him Wangqing so that he would remember his own status. He was so humble that he could only look up to the position of the emperor and did not even have the qualifications to compete.

But he is the emperor now.

The snow squeaked softly under his boots. He walked around to her and half-knelt.

Her eyes were closed, her long eyelashes drooping, her lips pale. One hand was still loosely resting on the snowman's broken arm, while the other was curled deep in the fox fur, holding the still-warm hand warmer.

Those eyes, which were always cold and calm, sometimes with a hint of fatigue, or occasionally with a flash of sharp light, were quietly closed.

Xiao Wangqing's hand was half extended and suspended in the air.

He opened his mouth, but his throat felt like it was blocked by ice, unable to utter a single syllable. All the surrounding sounds suddenly faded, and the world was dead silent, leaving only his frantic heartbeat and the roar of blood rushing to his head.

He suddenly stretched out his hand, his fingertips trembling as he reached for her neck.

The tentacles are icy cold.

No pulse.

The subtle beating that he had tried to capture countless times in the middle of the night to confirm that she was still alive disappeared.

He suddenly remembered the rainy night in Huai'an many years ago when she had handed him half a candied phoenix and her fingertips had rubbed his palm. He remembered her coughing up blood and smiling, "What do you know?" He remembered the slight frown on her brow as she reviewed memorials, and her gentle breathing as she took a nap under the window.

I remembered her last words last night, very softly: "Your Majesty, the snow has stopped."

He just nodded at that time, thinking that he would accompany her to see the snow scene after leaving the court.

It turns out that was not just small talk.

It's a farewell.

Xiao Wangqing slowly leaned down and rested his forehead on the back of her cold hand. His broad shoulders trembled uncontrollably, but he couldn't make a sound.

Xiao Wangqing stopped attending court for one day.

The heating in the warm room was still burning hot, and the incense had been changed to her usual cool plum scent, but the body in her arms was still getting colder and colder, and it was stiff and uncomfortable.

He sat there for a long time, until the sun was setting in the west, then he raised his hand and groped for the secret compartment on her pillow that she often touched.

There weren't many things in the box, just an old scroll with yellowed edges and curled up.

He opened it with trembling hands.

The ink marks vary in depth, most of which were written with great effort during illness. The handwriting became more and more sloppy as time went on, and some words were even blurred by coughed-up blood, turning into blurry dark spots.

"On the 23rd of the twelfth lunar month, I was in the cold palace. I rescued a very vicious cat that bit people. I gave it the charcoal fire and sable fur coat from the Eastern Palace; perhaps it could be of use. I was afraid Your Highness would be reprimanded, but seeing it curled up in the snow was like seeing my younger sister in her youth."

"On the 27th day of the twelfth lunar month, at a banquet. His Highness is displeased, and I am also alarmed. This boy is no ordinary creature, and he may become a serious threat to His Highness."

"On the 16th day of the first lunar month, we sailed along the Yangtze and Huaihe Rivers. The Xie family's heirloom could be used, but the Third Prince was too silent. His wounds were bleeding profusely, yet he endured the pain without a word while the bandages were changed. His resilience is uncommon."

"February 22nd, rain. Three days of checking accounts, all the pests of Jiangnan Road have been exposed. Zhou Maonian, before being executed, glanced at me and said with a smile, 'The lackeys of the Eastern Palace will meet the same fate one day.' Bullshit."

"On February 26th, I rescued the Lin family's daughter at the Lantern Festival. Her resemblance to me is no accident."

"On the seventh day of the third month, I had a severe cough. His Highness personally prepared a decoction and scolded me for not taking care of myself. The medicine was bitter, more bitter than coptis root, but the gloom between his brows was even deeper than mine. Ten years of master and servant had brought him to this point."

"News arrives from the Third Prince's victory in the Northern Frontier. His Highness throws down his scroll and sneers, drinking alone in the middle of the night. I stand at the steps offering him sobering soup, watching the moonlight soak through the dragon pattern on his shoulder. Suddenly, I realize the loneliness and coldness of the royal family, and how no human minister can warm them."

His fingertips stroked the spreading blood spots and he continued to turn the pages. The ink became increasingly sloppy and weak, and the line spacing was scattered, as if the person holding the pen was struggling to even hold the pen steady.

"April 10th, sunny. Moved to the west wing hall. The ground is too warm, and the cough has eased a bit. Your Majesty... Xiao Wangqing had all the memorials moved to the outer room, and he didn't avoid me when reviewing them. His comments became increasingly decisive, but whenever he heard me cough, he would pause for a long time."

"April 17th, rain. I woke in the middle of the night, aching to see him napping at his desk, lamplight falling all over his shoulders, unaware of it. I tried to get him to rest, but another coughing fit broke out. He started running in, his eyes bloodshot, but he only asked in a hoarse voice, 'Would you like some water?' Why bother?"

"The fifth day of the fifth month, Dragon Boat Festival. Jingshu secretly stuffed a rice dumpling into the pot, and it was incredibly sweet. His Majesty noticed and reprimanded her for being inappropriate. However, that afternoon, a plate of candied dates, pitted clean, appeared on the table."

"On the Mid-Autumn Festival in August, osmanthus petals fell all over the inkstone. He plucked withered branches and made a ring, forcing it into my hair. The hairpin was crooked, and when I tried to straighten it, I saw the bloodshot in his eyes, and he acquiesced to this absurdity. After all, history's pen is sharp, and this incident is not to be trifled with."

"When the Qingming rains arrived, he brought wine and sat by my bed, pouring himself until dawn. When drunk, he rambled on about the sandstorms in the northern border, about Huai'an's sugar paintings, and how, if he were to choose again, he would rather starve to death in the snow than be contaminated by the karma of the Eastern Palace. His endless nonsense made him unworthy of being an emperor."

"On the third day of October, snow fell. He entered the palace carrying a plum branch, unaware that his hair had streaked with white. He tried to brush it away, but when he raised his hand, he curled up in a cough. He was anxious, wanting to move forward but timid, like a puppy. I suddenly remembered how he had cowered and watched so carefully when we first met in the cold palace. Ten years have passed, a farce and a pity."

The ink suddenly stops here, and the last few lines are scattered like a spider web, barely legible.

"Xiao Wangqing, Wangqing."

"This is a very good name. I hope you will be a wise ruler and protect the country."

"I know you will eventually see this book. If Heaven has mercy, I will allow you to open it after I leave."

"Ten years of drinking poison is not your fault, nor is it the fault of Your Highness. It is my greed for life, my willingness to gamble. A life in the snow, ten years in the Eastern Palace, and a vast expanse of mountains and rivers, all of which I willingly accept."

"You exterminated your entire family to seize the throne, and history will inevitably record you as a tyrant. However, if a tyrant stops wars, suppresses the powerful, reduces taxes and levies, opens up border markets, and ensures that the elderly have a place to live and the young have a place to grow—"

"A hundred years from now, history will have its own verdict."

"The Northern Frontier's cavalry can secure the border, but they can't calm the people's hearts. The Xie family's heir can be used, but not trusted. The Lin family's daughter... treat her well, and don't vent your anger on her because she resembles me."

"Now I am leaving. Do not grieve or miss me. I only hope that you will uphold this country, rule the world, be the ruler of peace and prosperity, and become a king admired by all."

"If any future history book dares to mention your stupidity, I will bring this case to light in my grave."

Xiao Wangqing knelt in front of the couch, pressing his fingertips hard on the wet ink until his fingertips were stained completely black.

He leaned over and rested his forehead on the cold edge of the couch, forcing a very low laugh from his throat.

"good."

"I promise you."

-----------------------

The author has something to say: "The Book of Jing" records that after Emperor Wu, Xiao Wangqing, ascended the throne, he reformed the previous dynasty's accumulated abuses. He abolished the monopoly tax and reduced the land tax, and within three years, the granaries were full. He opened border markets and established connections with the Western Regions. He also set up a drum at the palace gate to report grievances, allowing anyone who had been wronged to come forward and speak out.

However, the emperor never had an empress and had no children. Every year on the 23rd day of the twelfth lunar month, he would shut himself in his warm room and sit facing the snow. His attendants would often hear whispers from within the room: "You can see that the seas are at peace and the rivers are clear."

My past life is over, I will try to write in a relaxed way in this life.

I'm recommending the next book "The Imprisoned Golden Sparrow". If you are interested, could you please go to the author's column and add it to your collection?^^

The triumphant day of the great victory at the border was also the day when the great general Chen Ke died in battle.

Overnight, Lin Yu fell from the clouds and became a widow that everyone in the capital sighed about.

She guarded her own little world in the general's mansion, wearing plain clothes, and just wanted to live the rest of her life in peace.

Little did they know that at that thrilling celebration banquet.

The supreme Crown Prince, when he glanced at her during the toast, had already laid a tight net for her.

"What Chen Ke can give you, I can give you. What he can't give you, I can also give you."

He snatched the eternal lamp she was holding to pray for her deceased husband and forced her into a cage carved from gold and jade.

"Ayu, I am the only one in this world who can protect you from worries."

She is weak and helpless, like a white lotus in the rain.

His robbery and her silent resistance became an unspoken secret among the government and the people.

Until the border war breaks out again.

The great general who should have died on the battlefield, was actually wearing black armor, crushed Ling Xiao, and returned with a vengeance.

"Your Highness, you have taken my wife by force. This crime deserves death!"

Lin Yu×Chen Ke×Yan Qinghe

The imprisoned goldfinch, the goldfinch sought

Tips before watching:

1. To seize by force

2. Women are weak. Xiaolin is a dodder that lives by absorbing nutrients from others. If Xiao Shen (Chen Zhiwei) is used as a standard, her morals are low.

3. No one is perfect, a bloody love story

4. No abuse of women