Chapter 1 Snow in My Heart "I wish to see Zhu Qing one more time."...

Zhu Qing never expected that she would have the chance to see her mentor, Feng Zhijian, again in this lifetime.

She would never forget that it was the first year of Tianfu, a spring afternoon, the air filled with a faint fragrance of flowers, and she sat numbly in the secretary's office waiting for her mentor to arrive.

She came this time to beg him to save her husband, Zhang Yin.

Last month, her mentor's men found her in Jinyang, saying they had a way to save Zhang Yin, but their condition for helping was that Zhu Qing come to see him.

Zhu Qing didn't know whether this meeting would be a blessing or a curse.

Too many years have passed, and she and her mentor are no longer the same people they were when they were in the Secretariat.

As the Tang Dynasty was on the verge of collapse, various warlords vied for control of the Central Plains. After Zhu Qing embarked on her mission, the lord she served happened to be Feng Zhijian's mortal enemy.

Because of their differing stances, they became political enemies. For many years, they schemed against and plotted against each other, using all the means they had in their lives against one another—vicious, bloody, and wishing they could kill the other.

Having gone through so much, perhaps she shouldn't trust her mentor anymore.

But the warmth Zhu Qing felt during the six years she studied under him was beyond words; she cherished those memories and felt that based on everything she had learned, she should trust her mentor and give herself and her mentor a chance.

If possible, Zhu Qing would rather not continue to fight with her mentor like this.

She wanted to reconcile with her mentor.

Before my eyes, the bright sunlight streamed in through the lattice window and fell on an inkstone on the desk.

The inkstone was given to Feng Zhijian by Zhu Qing when he was sixteen. Decades have passed, and it is worn and damaged, with broken edges and corners. I didn't expect that he would still be using it and would not replace it for decades.

As Zhu Qing stroked the chipped corners, she thought to herself how to get her mentor to agree to save Zhang Yin, and how to shake hands with him and make peace with him.

Two heavy footsteps sounded outside the secretary's office. Zhu Qing glanced to the side and saw Feng Zhijian wearing a black robe, a turban, and a jade ring at his waist. He stepped over the threshold with his hands behind his back. When he saw Zhu Qing, he suddenly stopped in his tracks, a strange panic flashing in his eyes.

Another figure slowly emerged from behind him, wearing a gray-white Taoist robe, with his hair tied up, holding a whisk, and his deep, murky eyes looked at Zhu Qing: "You made such a big mistake as ceding the Sixteen Prefectures of Yan and Yun, I thought you wouldn't dare to come."

The Taoist priest's aged voice carried a hidden killing intent. He possessed an otherworldly and refined demeanor, yet his eyes were gloomy. He glanced at Zhu Qing, then flicked his whisk and slowly entered.

After bypassing Zhu Qing, the Taoist priest sat in the highest position in the secretary's room, looking down at Zhu Qing with disdain, as if he were looking at something filthy.

Even after many years, Zhu Qing still remembers this Taoist priest, who was Feng Zhijian's teacher and was renowned for his exceptional fortune-telling skills.

Before he became a Taoist priest, he divined that his daughter was a sorceress who would bring disaster to the Tang Dynasty. He killed her with a sword and hung her head in the West Market of Chang'an, proclaiming that this was for the sake of the Tang Dynasty and the people of the world. He said that this was the most loyal, filial and righteous act, and that he had set a perfect example.

He then became a Taoist priest, and his heroic act of eliminating harm for the people earned him the love and respect of many.

When Feng Zhijian was sixteen, his family arranged for him to study under his patron, where he learned the virtues of utmost loyalty, filial piety, and righteousness.

At this moment, the Taoist's deep voice rang out in the room: "Zhijian, do you still remember what your master told you?"

Feng Zhijian remained silent for a long time before speaking in a trembling voice: "I remember. My teacher once said that the greatest truths are the simplest."

Zhu Qing saw Feng Zhijian walking towards her. In all the years she had studied under him, Zhu Qing had never seen him like this before, with a gloomy and flustered look in his eyes and a staggering gait, as if he was trying his best to endure something.

“Zhu Qing,” he stopped at the desk in front of Zhu Qing, seemingly exhausted, his hands resting on the table, next to the dark blue inkstone. Feng Zhijian asked, “Was the cession of the Sixteen Prefectures of Yan and Yun solely Zhang Yin’s doing? Was it a treacherous scheme he presented to Shi Jingtang?”

What was that look in his eyes? Was it hatred, resentment, or more like blame—blame her, his student, for not becoming someone to be proud of?

Zhu Qing's breathing almost froze.

“If it was Zhang Yin who did it alone, just tell me and I will take care of it for you,” Feng Zhijian said. “Killing only him will suffice.”

Zhu Qing stood there, stunned: "I came to see you, sir, not to kill Zhang Yin! It was your men who found me in Jinyang, saying that you have a plan to save Zhang Yin, that's why I came..."

“Of course I know why you’ve come,” Feng Zhijian interrupted her. “But why do you think I would save Zhang Yin? He offered up the treacherous plan to cede sixteen prefectures, why should I? Or do you think that the sixteen prefectures of Yan and Yun are not even worth one Zhang Yin!”

Zhu Qing was so enraged by Feng Zhijian's words that she instantly forgot that she had originally intended to shake hands and make peace. She retorted loudly and excitedly, "It wasn't his idea!"

"Who else could it be but him!" Feng Zhijian suddenly raised his voice, veins bulging on his forehead, "When you were studying here with me, you were innocent and kind—"

He pointed to the lush courtyard outside the secretary's room, bathed in the spring sunshine, and said, "You can talk to the flowers and grass, you can chat and laugh with me, and you make me sweet flower soup every day. I don't believe that a disciple like you could have used those heinous and vicious schemes against me all these years without Zhang Yin's instigation!"

Those insidious schemes were more concerning to Feng Zhijian than the cession of the Sixteen Prefectures of Yan and Yun. They were like knives, cutting deep and repeatedly into his heart when no one was around at night.

Feng Zhijian, breathing heavily, continued, "I sent you here not to save Zhang Yin. I want you to tell me where he is hiding and hand him over for punishment. Otherwise, I will have no choice but to clean house."

Zhu Qing was stunned: "Sir, you want to kill me?"

“I have taught a student like you, who married a villain and ceded territory. By cleaning up my own family, I am being loyal to the Tang Dynasty, filial to my parents, and righteous to the people.”

Zhu Qing felt a lump in her throat. She never imagined that after all these decades, Feng Zhijian was still trapped in the shackles taught to him by the Taoist priest.

"So I'm a disgrace to the master? Did the master regret taking me as his student back then?"

"yes."

"..."

Zhu Qing stared blankly at the courtyard he pointed out, where a tender yellow forsythia swayed in the wind, appearing even more vibrant and charming in the sunlight.

That forsythia plant was planted when she was studying under Feng Zhijian. Back then, she was still very lively. To coax the seed to sprout, she said a lot of nice things to it before carefully burying it in the soil.

Beneath the forsythia blossoms lies a spacious courtyard, where Zhu Qing used to sweep fallen leaves.

The fallen leaves could never be swept away completely; they flew into Feng Zhijian's study and bedroom. Because his mentor was a clean freak, Zhu Qing had to go in and pick them out one by one.

At those times, she would see her beloved teacher, whom she rarely saw in a day. He would be reading at the table, his slender fingers sketching with a pen, or resting on the couch, his closed eyes curved like a small bridge over a stream in a village.

More often than not, he would stand by the window with his hands behind his back, staring blankly at the misty dome above.

Whenever she saw him gazing at the dome in a daze, Zhu Qing would feel melancholy. She always felt that her mentor had many secrets he was unwilling to reveal to others. There were stories in his eyes, indifference in his smile, and aloofness in his demeanor.

Before Zhu Qing arrived, there was no one else in his mentor's courtyard except himself.

He forbade anyone to enter, living alone in the courtyard of the chief secretary.

In such a large courtyard, with such a small person, Zhu Qing felt that her mentor was as dull and lonely as that courtyard that did not allow anyone to enter, standing silently and existing powerlessly.

Zhu Qing had never seen anyone like him.

Zhu Qing never understood why Feng Zhijian wouldn't allow others to come in, until one day she saw Feng Zhijian casually pour the sweet flower soup she had brought into a bowl.

Zhu Qingcai finally understood, because Feng Zhijian didn't trust anyone—including her.

As a renowned strategist, every idea of ​​Feng Zhijian could be top secret, a secret that could cost him his life. Therefore, Feng Zhijian could not trust anyone. He closed the gates of his courtyard, forbidding anyone from setting foot on his territory, and would also throw away all food of unknown origin.

In fact, Feng Zhijian never trusted Zhu Qing.

No matter what, Zhu Qing could never truly enter his life.

This left Zhu Qing with a deep sense of powerlessness. Later, when Huang Chao occupied Chang'an, her family was destroyed and she lost her life. Taking this opportunity, she left Feng Zhijian and embarked on her own career.

She met Zhang Yin and married him.

Zhu Qing wanted to assist the new monarch, and Zhang Yin introduced her to him.

Zhang Yin wanted to conquer the Central Plains, and Zhu Qing provided him with intelligence.

At first, there was only exploitation and suspicion between the couple. Later, during the Zhu-Li rivalry and frequent wars, they advanced and retreated together, failed and won together. When the couple was seriously ill, a bowl of hot soup in the middle of the night, countless times tucking them in, and countless times of silent companionship could warm even the coldest hearts.

Unlike Feng Zhijian, Zhang Yin believed in Zhu Qing, loved Zhu Qing, and would let Zhu Qing into his life.

At night, he would hold Zhu Qing and say he wanted her. When he was fighting a battle of wits with other strategists, he would scold her, saying that she was still too soft-hearted, and that she would laugh, cry, and make a fuss.

Zhu Qing couldn't resist Zhang Yin; his vitality was strong and warm, completely permeating Zhu Qing in every way.

Zhu Qingzhen cherished him, but now that the Sixteen Prefectures have been ceded, everyone says it was a treacherous scheme devised by the couple, and everyone wants to punish them.

Including Feng Zhijian.

She could die for the Sixteen Prefectures, but Zhang Yin had to live.

Zhu Qing withdrew her gaze, no longer looking at the tender yellow forsythia, and looked firmly at Feng Zhijian, saying, "The Sixteen Prefectures have nothing to do with my husband and me."

Snap—

With a flick of his long sleeve, Feng Zhijian swept the inkstone off the table, causing it to shatter into pieces at Zhu Qing's feet.

Zhu Qing quickly stepped back, but before she could stand still, she heard a subtle sound coming from outside.

She ran to the door and looked over, only to see that the walls of the secretary's courtyard were densely packed with archers.

Without giving her any time to catch her breath, countless arrows shot through the air and pierced her chest almost at the same moment Zhu Qing stood still in the doorway.

Then came another volley of arrows, the sound of arrows whistling through her ears, and waves of pain washing over her body. It wasn't just her heart; Zhu Qing was covered in arrows, her clothes and skirt stained with blood.

Zhu Qing collapsed, unable to move, and lay prone under the eaves, where she saw her own blood slowly flowing down the bluestone steps.

A grayish-white light appeared before her eyes, and the scent of Buddhist sandalwood filled her nostrils. The Taoist priest's voice rang out above Zhu Qing's head: "You wretched girl, if it weren't for you leading Zhi Jian astray, his achievements would have been even greater. It is a tragedy for our Great Tang to have someone like you."

Zhu Qing's throat was full of blood and foam. She choked and couldn't speak. She didn't understand what the Taoist meant by causing Feng Zhijian to go astray.

But Zhu Qing understood that he was not like the Taoist priests and monks he had met, who had reverence for life and would say "Amitabha". He just coldly uttered such a sentence, and his footsteps faded away, along with the archers on the courtyard wall, who also silently disappeared.

Zhu Qing blinked weakly, feeling hot tears rolling down her cheeks. She looked at the pale yellow forsythia swaying in the wind against the backdrop of the azure horizon.

She could almost hear her husband's gentle worry again: "The sixteen prefectures have been ceded, and the people are furious. If you go on this trip, I'm afraid Feng Zhijian will take your life."

“Back then, I was seeking education everywhere, but no one was willing to take me in as a female student. He took me in. We stayed together for five or six years. A teacher doesn't kill his own child, and a tiger doesn't eat its own cub. I believed in him.”

"but……"

“If he really kills me, just think of it as me dying for the people of the Sixteen Provinces, just think of it as me returning him. After all, if he hadn’t been willing to take in female students to teach me, allowing me to embark on the path of a strategist, I wouldn’t have met you.”

"..."

"Cough..." Zhu Qing coughed up blood, staining the blue bricks of the ground red. She grabbed a piece of clothing that swayed in front of her eyes: "Sir..."

Slowly, the owner of the robe squatted down, looked down at her, and asked through gritted teeth, "Are you going to die for Zhang Yin?"

Feng Zhijian pinched Zhu Qing's chin, forcing her to look up and meet his gaze. His tone was filled with hatred: "You were in Chang'an, he was in Jinyang. When Zhu and Li were vying for power, you initially sided with Zhu, and he sided with Li. Since your positions were different, shouldn't you have spent your lives suspicious, hateful, and exploitative of each other?"

He sneered, "How come your marriage is so strong yet so utterly repulsive?"

"...Because you have never let anyone into your life, you naturally don't understand."

“I am the teacher, and you are the student, always have been. The student, so why do you say that the teacher doesn’t understand?”

Zhu Qing didn't want to argue; she was exhausted.

Zhu Qing only said his own words: "Please, sir, save Zhang Yin for me... cough,"

The blood she coughed up fell onto Feng Zhijian's hand, pooling into a puddle of blood in his palm.

Feng Zhijian stared at her blood-stained lips and said, "Ever since you married Zhang Yin, you've been working against me. You've used the skills you learned from me to fight me to the death. Countless times you've put me in trouble, made me a target of my monarch's suspicion, and almost cost me my life. All those wicked schemes you devised against me were instigated by Zhang Yin, weren't they?"

On her deathbed, unwilling to argue, Zhu Qing continued to say only what she had to say: "Sir, do you remember? I love beauty. I love beauty so much, how could you bear to kill me like this? My body is covered in bloody holes, how ugly! It's all your fault, you have to make it up to me. Please go and save Zhang Yin..."

"Why do you like Zhang Yin? We are both strategists, but he is unknown while I am famous throughout Jiangbei. Why would you like him?"

“Ever since I finished my apprenticeship and got married, we’ve been fighting for so many years. When your people found me in Jinyang, I shouldn’t have believed you, but I came anyway because I didn’t want to fight you anymore. I originally wanted to come and make peace with you. Even when Zhang Yin said that you might kill me, I still came behind his back because I trusted my mentor…”

But what's the use of believing?

Zhu Qing lay exhausted in a pool of blood, no longer breathing.

Feng Zhijian held her limp face, lost in thought for a long, long time. He felt Zhu Qing's warmth gradually fading away, and he wanted to grasp something, but he couldn't hold onto anything.

After an unknown amount of time, Feng Zhijian wearily released Zhu Qing and wiped away the tears from the corners of her eyes. "Zhang Yin, I won't save him. I hate him."

The lush courtyard where Feng Zhijian and Zhu Qing lived together was washed red with her blood.

In the decades that followed, Feng Zhijian never forgot this day. The sky was very blue, and the early spring sunshine was especially warm, making people dizzy and wanting to cry.

Killing his disciple seemed to be a punishment from Buddha. Feng Zhijian fell seriously ill overnight and looked as if he had aged more than ten years.

Trapped in the shackles of the Taoist priest's utmost loyalty, filial piety, and righteousness, he dared not end his own life and could only linger on his sickbed, barely clinging to life. He spent almost the entire second half of his life on his sickbed.

He became irritable and easily angered, but refused to take his medicine. Every day he longed to die from his illness, but Buddha was punishing him, preventing him from dying and forcing him to live numbly and devastatedly on his sickbed, amidst the pain of losing Zhu Qing.

Because of the Taoist's teachings, Feng Zhijian could not let go of the responsibility on his shoulders. He served one monarch after another while ill, watching the regime change again and again, but he could not help any monarch to usher in the prosperous era that he and Zhu Qing both hoped for.

Outside, Feng Zhijian was just a somewhat aloof patient; he remained unparalleled in wisdom and cunning, a strategist coveted by many powerful figures.

Inside, Feng Zhijian fell asleep clutching the clothes Zhu Qing had left behind, masturbating in front of her portrait. He felt disgusted with himself, but he really didn't know what else to do. He couldn't control himself; not a day went by that he didn't miss Zhu Qing.

Even though he thought of Zhu Qing every day, as time passed, her image slowly faded from Feng Zhijian's memory, and the portrait became blurry.

After decades of chaos, Feng Zhijian grew old and could no longer remember what Zhu Qing looked like.

Approaching 100 years old, he felt he might be too old, and despite trying hard to recall, he just couldn't remember what Zhu Qing looked like.

Feng Zhijian couldn't bear the thought that someone he cared so much about would fade away in his memory over time. He was determined to remember her face before he died.

I need to meet with him.

In the sixth year of Xiande, Feng Zhijian, who was over a hundred years old, picked up a shovel and came to Zhu Qing's lonely grave.

He had spent half his life guarding this grave, and now he was finally going to meet the people inside.

However, Feng Zhijian was old and didn't have the strength to dig up the grave.

The snow fell all night, and he dug until midnight before losing his breath.

Less than a third of the grave had been dug up when the white-haired Feng Zhijian knelt before it, frozen into an ice sculpture in the wind and snow.

-

Brilliant New Year fireworks burst in the distant night sky.

"I wish to see Zhu Qing again."

His last wish, along with the fireworks, fell before the Buddha.

This year was the sixth year of Xiande. It was a snowy night. In the same year, Zhao Kuangyin established the Northern Song Dynasty, beginning in the first year of Jianlong.

The decades-long period of chaos has finally come to an end, and the golden age that Feng Zhijian has been waiting for is finally about to arrive.

But he didn't see it.

Throughout his life, he only witnessed the suffering of all living beings.

A note from the author:

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

Shogunate: The office of strategists

The Secretariat: A branch of the Shogunate's Secretariat, specifically for high-ranking strategists to work in.

The term "scribe" in the text refers to a junior strategist who was responsible for writing official documents and delivering letters to senior strategists.

The struggle between Zhu Wen and Li Keyong during the Five Dynasties period: the rivalry between Zhu Wen and Li Keyong.

The female protagonist travels back in time to inhabit her own body a thousand years in the past. She is pulled back by the male protagonist's lingering resentment, so she is still the original owner of this body and will have memories of both lifetimes.

The Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms period spans a long timeline, which cannot be covered in just a few decades, so this article will condense the timeline.