040
A few days passed in the blink of an eye.
Aren't you coming along?
Song Ling looked at the tall and imposing man in armor before her and shook her head slightly: "There are some things I must do. I will send a few reliable disciples to accompany the general, and also..."
She handed him the brocade pouch, saying, "I hope you never have to use it."
Yu Baizhou gripped the brocade pouch tightly in his hand. "Okay, wait for us to come back."
Song Ling took a step back and bowed deeply: "The return date is uncertain. We only hope that you will take care, General. We await your triumphant return."
"wait for me!"
There's no need for sweet words, nor for excessive sentimentality. I will return victorious, and then I will hold you in my arms.
Song Ling stood there watching him ride away, her thoughts unknown.
Seventeen.
The young man emerged from the alleyway, his skin tanned considerably and his face somewhat covered in dust.
Song Ling didn't ask anything, but took out the prepared wine jar and plopped down on the threshold.
The man walked over and sat down next to her. "I didn't want to come, but I was still craving your food."
"Drink up," Song Ling said, pouring herself a drink. "Drink more."
But as they drank, rain began to fall from their wine bowls.
"Don't cry, Little Seventeen." Chu Zhaoyan smiled through her red eyes. "You should be happy for me that I can use this limited time to do something big."
"Besides, you've known since I was little that I dream of going to the battlefield to kill the enemy. If it weren't for Ayan stopping me, I might have gone down the mountain long ago."
For some reason, a hint of tragic grandeur crept into his smile.
Song Ling pulled him close and hugged him tightly: "Actually, there is a way. I've already found a way. Just wait a little longer..."
Chu Zhaoyan patted her back and joked, just like she used to when she made a mistake: "Are you going to take the blame for us again?"
He pulled her away, gripped her shoulders tightly, and said with an unusually serious expression, "Seventeen, this time it's not necessary. I know what you want to do, but this is not your responsibility."
"You just need to assist him well and then leave Huailai. That's what we all wish for."
Song Ling shook her head, suppressing her emotions, her face covered in tears.
“I can tell that General Yu is a good person.” He wiped away her tears and, like an older brother, instructed her, “I also know that you are not completely indifferent to him. Even if you lied to him, I will go and explain to him that he is not an unreasonable person.”
"We will earn our own lives; you don't need to bear the burden."
Do you understand?
"You just need to make sure you survive..."
He didn't know what the evil arts in the Huailai Bamboo House were, who left them, why Shi Yu discovered them, or why Seventeen had such a strong obsession.
Huailai was an extremely special place in the world. It was not mentioned in the history books, but it must have been deeply imprinted in the hearts of every founding monarch.
The Savior was chosen by God, by the people, and especially by Huailai.
The master of Huailai Pavilion is a man of exceptional talent, and can only be one. Chu Zhaoyan only understood after he turned eighteen why Huailai had no senior disciples and why the master's lifespan was so short.
Peeping into destiny will surely lead to no good end. Even if destiny is ordained by Heaven. No one knows why Huailai exists, nor who the first Pavilion Master was.
All that is known is that each leader of the pavilion, when his time is about to end, will find a new successor by following the guidance of divination, and this tradition has been passed down through generations.
They lived for the world and died for the people. The secrets of Huailai, along with the monarchs, were taken to their graves and hidden from the world once more.
Those disciples who do not pry may be able to eke out a living.
Why? This was the question that had always lingered in Chu Zhaoyan's mind. They waited for centuries without a single chance to emerge from seclusion, yet they were destined to be swallowed up by the tides of history.
This was also Song Ling's silent question on countless nights. She could devote herself wholeheartedly to the people and die for the world. But she could not stand by and watch her companions and disciples turn into something neither human nor ghost.
So she wanted to change her fate; she wanted the people of Huailai to live well.
Zhao Yan was right; she had indeed lied to Yu Baizhou. There was affection involved, but it was far less than the desire to exploit him.
"Seventeen, don't do anything foolish."
He was probably afraid of using his life as a tool for witchcraft. Would she be that kind of person?
Perhaps.
Zhao Yan has always known her well.
“No, I won’t,” Song Ling smiled. “You know I’ve always valued my life.”
Sui Yan had only seen Shi Yu's divination about his own death by chance, and she panicked immediately. Little did she know that beneath his fate chart lay hers.
Fate can be shifted. Shi Yu pinned her own predicament on Sui Yan, assuming that none of her disciples knew the truth, since Sui Yan had gone to the forbidden area to gather herbs and never returned.
This is why Song Ling felt both angry and powerless. She couldn't help them, so she could only either wait for their fate or watch them kill each other.
Now, she'll try anything as long as there's a glimmer of hope.
When Song Ling returned to the study, she immediately sensed that something was wrong.
She heard a commotion behind her, drew her short sword, turned around and thrust it forward, but stopped abruptly and withdrew it just as it was about to reach the man's neck.
"Aunt Ying?!"
The newcomer was dressed in a gray, close-fitting outfit and appeared very quiet.
She nodded, then raised her hand to gesture: [Zhao Yan, let me handle this. He won't let you leave.]
Song Ling pulled the woman's hand and led her to sit down, comforting her, "I have to go save people, how can I not leave?"
Qi Ying frowned, gesturing somewhat urgently: [Are you... going to Luoyang?]
Your master once told me that you cannot go to Luoyang.
A hint of suspicion flashed through Song Ling's mind. She hadn't noticed anything amiss when she went to Luoyang on her way down the mountain.
Master, why would you leave such a dying wish? Besides, she is assisting our lord, and we will eventually have to conquer Luoyang. How could she not go?
Song Ling suppressed her doubts and said in a flattering tone, just like when she was a child, "Of course! I rescued someone on the way and came right back!"
Qi Ying: [I'll follow you and protect you.]
"Aunt Ying, don't underestimate my martial arts skills!" Song Ling's eyes lit up: "Don't you know who taught me my martial arts skills?"
"Besides, Tokugi is right behind me. There's no need for you to come."
Song Ling nestled in her arms for a while, and when she stood up, her eyes, which had been dry, had cleared. "Have you gone to see Qi Man? It's not easy for you to come down the mountain, so you might as well spend some time with her."
"She's growing up so fast..."
When the two walked outside side by side, they saw Qiman chasing a hen.
"Stop right there!"
"Don't run."
A hint of embarrassment flashed across Song Ling's face. "Ahem—"
"Miss?" Qi Man turned around after falling, and her ears seemed to perk up when she saw the person next to Song Ling.
"Mother!"
Qi Ying was immediately enveloped in the blankets.
Song Ling wisely slipped away quietly, not wanting to disturb the heartwarming moment of the mother and daughter's reunion.
That would be wonderful. If we could freeze this moment forever, that would be perfect.
Meanwhile, in the capital city of Luoyang, at the palace gates, the Empress, leading a group of concubines, stood waiting outside. Her eyes were closed, and she fiddled with a string of Buddhist prayer beads, exuding an air of composure and grace.
Some of the concubines behind him were extremely anxious, some did not show it, and some secretly covered their hands with handkerchiefs to yawn.
When the imperial physician came out, he was startled by the scene. The empress stepped forward and asked in detail, "How is His Majesty?"
The imperial physician shook his head: "His Majesty is merely suffering from a lingering cold and has been burdened by court affairs, which is why he is now seriously ill. He needs to rest and recuperate more."
"Okay, go down."
The imperial physician, his legs trembling, slowly retreated. Only after he had walked a distance did he wipe the sweat from his forehead. Did he dare say that His Majesty was poisoned? Didn't he even look at how hard the Second Prince's knife was inside the room?
His old bones really can't take it anymore... I'm sorry, Your Majesty, he still has a family to support.
Master is right, being a royal physician is truly not an easy job. He only understands this today, despite Master's teachings.
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