Extra 1: A Record of Broken Dreams and Floating Life
(one)
On a winter night in the fifth year of the Zhenghe reign, a small bamboo-fenced courtyard outside Hangzhou swayed in the wind and snow. The tattered window paper ripped in the cold wind, making a whimpering sound. Inside, a dying oil lamp cast flickering shadows on the wall.
Yan Qing curled up on his hard bed, covered by a crusted, tattered quilt. His sixty-three-year-old body was like a dead tree eaten away by time, and every breath was hoarse like a broken bellows. He knew his end was near.
His consciousness drifted in a sea of pain, memories flooding back. He recalled the last time he saw Mr. Lu—the once-mighty Jade Unicorn, who, after drinking imperial wine laced with mercury, curled up in agony in the weeds of Liaoerwa, his intestines ruptured and his stomach rotting before him.
"Master..." vague mumbling mixed with blood escaped from the withered lips.
Just as consciousness was about to fade, a warm current suddenly enveloped him. The biting cold disappeared, replaced by a suffocating warmth. He heard a familiar voice, so clear, so real.
"Xiao Yi, what are you daydreaming about?"
(two)
Yan Qing suddenly opened his eyes.
Sunlight streamed in through the carved wooden windows, casting dappled shadows on the blue brick floor. He sat in the study of the Lu Mansion in Daming Prefecture, a steaming cup of fragrant tea at his side. Across from him, Lu Junyi, dressed in a moon-white robe, looked at him with a smile.
"Did you get drunk last night?" Lu Junyi joked, his brows full of the high-spirited vigor that Yan Qing remembered.
Yan Qing stared at his hands in amazement—the skin was firm, the joints distinct, and it was clearly what it looked like when he was twenty. He trembled as he stroked his cheek. There were no wrinkles, no age spots, and it was incredibly smooth.
"Master...Master?" His voice was hoarse with excitement.
"Wake up," Lu Junyi said with a smile, "We have to go to the parade grounds soon to check out the newly arrived horses. I heard that the ones coming from Xixia this time are all top-quality war horses."
Yan Qing stood up, dazed, and walked to the bronze mirror. The young man in the mirror was handsome, exactly as he remembered him in his prime. He pinched himself hard, and the intense pain made him gasp.
Is this not a dream? Or is it a dream that is too real?
"Come on, accompany me to take a look." Lu Junyi stood up and patted his shoulder.
Walking along the familiar corridor, Yan Qing's heart beat like a drum. He saw the parrot under the corridor was still there, the one he had bought ten years ago; he saw the old locust tree in the courtyard, its branches and leaves more lush than he remembered; he saw the servants coming and going, all faces vivid in his memory.
All of this is so real.
(three)
In the broken hut, a spark from the oil lamp woke up the dying old man.
A violent coughing fit engulfed Yan Qing, who curled up until the fishy-sweet taste in his throat faded slightly. With difficulty, he reached out and fished out a jade pendant from beneath his pillow. It was a gift from Lu Junyi, a piece of top-grade Hetian jade, now riddled with cracks, like the fate of all of them.
Outside the window, the wind and snow grew stronger, as if countless wronged souls were crying. Yan Qing stared at the dark rooftop with his cloudy eyes, memories like knives, slicing through the remaining life in him.
He thought of Wu Song, the tiger-slaying hero whose left arm had been chopped off by Bao Daoyi during the campaign against Fang La, and who ultimately died in depression at Liuhe Temple. He remembered the last time he visited Wu Song, the once towering man now reduced to burning incense before the Buddha with his one arm.
"Second brother..." he muttered to himself, tears blurring his vision.
And then there was Hu Sanniang. That heroic Yizhangqing, struck in the face by the gilded bronze brick of Zheng Mojun, succumbed to her death. He would always remember the look in her eyes as she collapsed, so unwilling, so desperate.
Too many deaths, too many regrets. In this life, he watched his brothers leave one after another, but he was powerless to do anything.
If... If I could do it again...
(Four)
"Xiao Yi, what do you think of this horse?"
On the training ground, Lu Junyi pointed at one of the snow-white horses, his eyes flashing with excitement.
Yan Qing forced himself to calm down. He looked at the horse carefully and suddenly remembered something - in his previous life, the horse was frightened on the battlefield and threw Lu Junyi, causing him to be seriously injured and rest for three whole months.
"Sir, this horse has a fierce look in its eyes. I'm afraid it's too aggressive." Yan Qing said cautiously, "It's better to choose the chestnut horse next to it. It looks more docile."
Lu Junyi was a little surprised: "When did you learn to judge horses?"
Yan Qing smiled and said, "I've been following you for a long time, so I've learned a lot."
In the end, Lu Junyi followed his advice and chose the chestnut horse. Watching the official mount the horse and gallop across the parade grounds, Yan Qing felt a surge of warmth in his heart. Perhaps, he really had a chance to change something.
In the following days, Yan Qing began to carefully pluck the strings of fate.
He anonymously sent a letter to Xu Ning, reminding him to be careful of the theft of his goose feather armor; he arranged for someone to inform Zhu Tong at the right time, asking him to take the young yamen official away from Li Kui; he even secretly advised Hu Sanniang to be more vigilant against Zhujiazhuang.
Everything he does is done flawlessly, just like his sumo wrestling skills, where he uses the opponent's force to his advantage and achieves a great result with little effort.
However, the greater the change, the stronger his uneasiness became. Sometimes in the middle of the night, he would suddenly wake up, stroke his cheek, and doubt whether all this was real.
(five)
The old man in the hut started coughing again, this time more violently than before. He struggled to sit up, but he couldn't even lift his upper body.
The tattered quilt slipped from the bed, revealing his emaciated body. Ribs were visible, and skin clung to his frame like an ill-fitting garment. This was the end of his sixty-three-year life—alone, sick, and awaiting death in a shabby hut.
He recalled the last time he saw Song Jiang. The once high-spirited and vigorous timely rain, after drinking the poisoned wine, took his hand and said, "Xiao Yi, after I die, I must be buried in Liaoerwa, facing the direction of Liangshan..."
He did it. But what good was it? The graves in Liaoerwa were already overgrown with weeds, and no one even came to visit.
There were also Wu Yong and Hua Rong, who had hanged themselves in front of Song Jiang's tomb. He remembered the scene when they found their bodies, the two of them swaying gently on the tree, like two dead leaves.
Why? Why did they all have to take such a desperate path?
Yan Qing closed his eyes in pain, tears slid down the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, soaking the worn pillow.
If this was just a dream, he would rather never wake up.
(six)
"Brother Xiaoyi, what do you think about the amnesty?"
Song Jiang asked seriously in the Liangshan Gathering Hall. Due to Yan Qing's previous intervention, Liangshan was much smaller in this life, and its relationship with the imperial court was not as tense as in the previous life.
Yan Qing took a deep breath, knowing that the critical moment had arrived.
"Brother, the matter of recruiting is of great importance and requires careful consideration." He chose his words carefully. "The court is currently facing internal and external troubles, and it is time to use talents. If we can use our strength as a bargaining chip to strive for a decent recruitment, perhaps many tragedies can be avoided."
Song Jiang seemed to be thinking: "Go on."
"We can propose conditions so that each of our brothers can find their place. Those who wish to serve as officials can do so, and those who wish to retire can do so. The most important thing is to ensure everyone's safety."
Wu Yong waved his feather fan and said, "Brother Xiaoyi's words make sense. However, the imperial court is fickle and I'm afraid it's hard to trust them."
"So we need to have enough strength," Yan Qing said, "to prevent the imperial court from acting rashly."
This time, he must change the fate of Liangshan and the fate of all his brothers.
In the days that followed, Yan Qing tried his best to maneuver, using his understanding of the future to resolve crises time and time again, and to secure better conditions for Liangshan.
Looking at the smiles on his brothers' faces, he almost believed that he could really turn the tide.
(seven)
The old man had a beautiful dream on his deathbed.
In the dream, Lu Junyi didn't drink the poisoned wine, but lived out his life in peace with children and grandchildren; Wu Song didn't lose his arm, but lived out his remaining years peacefully in Liuhe Temple; Hu Sanniang didn't die in battle, but opened an embroidery shop in Suzhou, taking in homeless women; Li Jun didn't wander overseas, but instead made great achievements in Southeast Asia and was named King of Zhennan...
All the brothers are alive and well.
He laughed in his dream, like a child. If this were true, how wonderful it would be.
However, beautiful dreams are always easy to wake up from. The severe pain brought him back to reality, and he started coughing again, this time coughing up large mouthfuls of blood.
The bright red blood splattered on the torn quilt like blooming plum blossoms.
He knew that time was running out.
(eight)
"The imperial edict has arrived—"
In the spring of the first year of the Xuanhe reign, the imperial edict finally arrived at Liangshan. Unlike the previous life, the terms of this offer were much more generous: Song Jiang was appointed Pacifying Envoy of Chuzhou, Lu Junyi of Luzhou, and the other leaders were also given titles and rewards.
Most importantly, there are no clauses that imply murderous intent.
The Juyi Hall was decorated with lanterns and colorful lights, and everyone had a smile on their face. Yan Qing stood in the crowd, watching all this, with mixed feelings in his heart.
Did he do it? Did he really change the fate of Liangshan?
"Brother Xiaoyi, all of this is thanks to you." Song Jiang raised his glass to toast him. "If it weren't for you, we wouldn't be where we are today."
Yan Qing shook his head modestly: "It is a blessing for my brother and all the brothers."
Half drunk, he walked out of the gathering hall alone and came to the observatory on the back mountain. Standing there, he could overlook the entire Liangshan Lake. The 800-li lake, with its vast misty waves, was shimmering with golden light in the setting sun.
Liangshan will not repeat the same mistakes in this life.
However, just as he was immersed in the joy of success, a strong heart palpitation suddenly hit him. He felt dizzy and the scenery in front of him began to blur.
"No...it's not the time yet..." He held onto the railing and struggled to keep his balance.
He has too many things to do and too many brothers to protect. He can't...
(Nine)
The old man in the hut was on his deathbed.
His breathing became increasingly weak, and hallucinations began to appear. He saw Lu Junyi waving at him, Wu Song smiling at him, and Hu Sanniang dancing with a sword...
"Wait for me..." He stretched out his skinny hands, trying to catch those phantoms.
However, an illusion is still an illusion. His hand fell down weakly, hitting the edge of the bed with a dull thud.
In his final moments, he suddenly understood something. All the changes he'd thought of, all the salvation he'd thought of, were nothing more than his obsessions. Destiny is like a river; you can temporarily change its direction, but it will eventually return to its original course.
All the efforts, all the struggles, are in vain.
A tear rolled down from the corner of his eye, carrying with it endless regret and unwillingness.
(ten)
"Xiao Yi! Xiao Yi!"
Yan Qing suddenly woke up and found himself lying on the observatory, with Lu Junyi and Song Jiang looking at him anxiously.
"Are you okay?" Lu Junyi helped him sit up. "Why are you drunk here?"
Yan Qing stared at them blankly, and suddenly grabbed Lu Junyi's hand: "Master, promise me that you will survive no matter what."
Lu Junyi laughed: "What nonsense are you talking about? We will all live to be a hundred years old."
Song Jiang also laughed and said, "Xiao Yi must be drunk and has started talking nonsense."
Seeing their nonchalant expressions, Yan Qing felt a deep sense of powerlessness. They didn't understand, and they never would.
In the days that followed, Yan Qing worked even harder to change something, reminding this and warning that, hoping to nip all dangers in the bud.
However, he gradually discovered that no matter how hard he tried, some things would still happen, just at a different time and in a different way.
It's like there is an invisible hand secretly manipulating everyone's fate.
(eleven)
At dawn, the old man in the hut stopped breathing.
His eyes were still open, staring into space, as if he was staring at something invisible. There was a hint of a smile on the corner of his mouth, as if he had finally found relief.
The wind and snow gradually stopped, and a ray of morning light shone through the tattered window paper and fell on his peaceful face.
To outsiders, it was just the passing of an ordinary old man. No one knew that on this ordinary winter night, a soul had experienced a life that shook the world. No one knew how hard he had tried to change something.
Just as no one knows that in another time and space, the heroes of Liangshan may be living their own stable lives.
But those have nothing to do with him anymore.
In the dim morning light, a red plum blossom quietly blooms outside the window, and its red is dazzling against the backdrop of white snow.
Just like those deceased heroes, they left their last fragrance in the cracks of history books.
The sleeping dragon and the galloping horse will eventually turn into dust, and there will be no news from people.
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