Chapter 27
Shen Yi put on his outer robe and let the maid tie his hair for him. He looked in the bronze mirror at the person who pushed the door open.
Shen Zhiyan still smiled warmly, and there was a hint of reluctance in his words, "We met so quickly that I didn't realize that the young marquis had urgent matters to attend to. I haven't taken him to all the good places in Jinling City."
He pulled out some jade from his sleeves, let Shen Yi take a look, then put it in a cloth bag and piled it on the table. "Lord Zhao should take a break these past few days," he sighed, worried about this. "It seems that there's been another rebellion by refugees. I haven't been able to see the young marquis from beginning to end. It's really heartbreaking. Just now, it was just a small token of your gratitude. I wish the young marquis a safe journey."
After the maid left, Shen Yi lazily stood up, casually collected the half bag of jade and other items, and returned the greeting with a farewell bow. "If I have time in the future, when I travel to Jiangnan again, I will have the opportunity to meet Lord Shen and County Magistrate Zhao again."
Shen Zhiyan lowered his head and responded, going in and out all the way until he saw Shen Yi sitting in the carriage and rested. "If I can see the young marquis again, it will be a blessing in my life. Just treat me as an attendant and do whatever you want."
Shen Yi only nodded slightly, lowered the curtain, and stopped looking at what Shen Zhiyan looked like. First, there was the Luzhou epidemic, and then there were the refugees from Jiangnan. Zhao Qing had made up his mind not to meet him.
He hesitated, closing his eyes as the carriage jolted him. Could he be at ease just by sending Shen Zhiyan to watch over him day and night? Then the Zhao family would be no more than that.
When the surroundings seemed to be quieter, Shen Yi lifted the curtain to take another look. Even though they had left Jinling City, the royal family's followers had not moved around for the past few days. Instead, they stayed by his side like Shen Zhiyan.
After leaving the city, Shen Yifang began writing on the small table in the carriage, preparing a memorial to be presented to the Emperor. Regardless of how many tricks the Zhao family still possessed, the information gathered from the secret reports from Jiangdu to Jinling was enough for the Emperor to convict. He hesitated before writing, then paused for a moment before writing down what he had seen and heard.
He couldn't help but think of what Zhang Hong, Shen Zhiyan, and the others had said. He arched his brows for a moment before finishing the last few words. Now, he just had to wait for the ink to dry before sending it all the way to Chang'an.
The journey from Chang'an to Jiangnan was a journey of day and night, without a single rest. Shen Yi planned to do the same when returning to Chang'an from Jinling—he clutched the secret letter in his sleeve and stuffed it deeper into his sleeve, leaving only this one unsent to Xue Heng.
Well, I should wait until he gets to Chang'an to give it to Xue Congzhi. The newly-built swallows, busy building their nests, chirped occasionally. After leaving Jinling City, the gentle breeze no longer carried the constant scent of cosmetics.
It was often the light fragrance of flowers that always comforted people when it drifted in. After this night, Shen Yi felt a little tired. He closed his eyes and leaned against the side of the sedan chair and fell asleep.
In a few days, he calculated clearly that if he worked day and night, he would be able to bring his sister back sooner and see his mother sooner. If Shen Qian was around, Mrs. Huo would naturally be able to move around more and not stay indoors.
He wondered if the flowers in Chang'an would have already withered by the time he returned. The sun was warming, and it was time to add some white doves to the Marquis's residence. He had a lot to tell Chen Qian, and he would have more time to spend with Mrs. Huo.
Just let him take a break. After this time, even if he retires, what happens to the Tian family, the Zhao family, Chen Qian, and Xue Congzhi will have nothing to do with him.
Chen Yi slowly fell asleep, leaving behind all the chaotic events of this year and last. He slept exceptionally soundly amidst such a bumpy ride. The moon hanging high in the sky was full, without rain or cloud, sending off the carriage that was about to embark on a long journey.
It wasn't until he was jolted awake by the violent jolt that Shen Yi woke from his rare sweet dream. He stood up to avoid the scimitar that stabbed into the carriage from the side, stepped over the driver's body, tore the reins from the still warm blood, and turned over to sit on the horse's back.
The night was dark but the wind was calm. Relying on the fact that Huo Yue had taught him some Kung Fu, Shen Yi snatched the scimitar from the man and held it in his hand, then he grabbed the reins and turned the horse's head.
Many of the followers he sent out killed each other, and at night, he couldn't tell who was standing next to him, nor did he know who could be ordered to protect him.
He could only grip the hilt of the knife tightly, and use the dim moonlight to see the clothes of the people coming - they were all wearing linen clothes and straw sandals. Rather than assassins, they were more like what Shen Zhiyan said, what Zhao Qing had been busy with recently, refugees?
"Refugees!" he laughed, his head tilted back, and, gripping his horse's flank, he rushed out from the crowd. It didn't matter who came. Whether they were members of the Zhao family, beneficiaries of the Zhao family, or even his own retainers and superiors, they all blocked his path home.
Refugees seeking wealth and livelihood would not just raise their swords and kill without a word. He saw clearly, from the white blade, the blood gushing out, and from the corpses lying in the night, he could see clearly that no matter who it was, they were now going to take his life - his life.
He rode his horse past anyone who blocked his way, whether they were his former followers or "refugees" dressed as ordinary people, not caring that it was his first time seeing blood or killing someone.
The blood from the neck sprayed onto the shaking horse's tail. Shen Yi tightened the reins and rode the horse away.
He had promised his mother that he would soon return to Chang'an. The swords and weapons on the road, the bloody scenes before his eyes, would all be things of his future. The journey was long, but he would take it step by step, no matter the dangers, no matter the bones and mud.
Chen Yi wiped the blood that splashed on his face with his sleeve, aroused some blood, and circled around the approaching people with his horse, but he couldn't let them get close to him after several moments of fighting.
But he was not like his grandfather after all. Shen Yi held the hilt of the knife and tried to push himself up against the ground. The neighing of horses nearby was loud, and all he could see were fallen corpses.
There was no other sound in his ears. Shen Yi looked up at the still round moon and slowly pulled himself up. He couldn't stop here. He didn't know where he should go, but he could only keep going.
Away from the swords that could appear at any moment, away from the current situation. He pulled himself up and walked forward slowly.
He didn't care about the pain all over his body, nor did he think about how many lives he had just taken. He just felt a little sorry for the memorials and secret letters in the carriage - he was afraid that they could not be delivered to Chang'an.
Chen Yi ignored the knife wounds on his body. His clothes were soaked by the blood. He just walked forward, embarking on the road home. He seemed very close to Chang'an, but also very far away from his home.
But he had to go back and tell his mother and sister that the flowers in the south of the Yangtze River were beautiful and the marquis's mansion could plant more in the courtyard.
When he smiled, one could glimpse some of Mrs. Huo's features in his eyes and brows, and his smile became as beautiful as Mrs. Huo's.
As Chen Yi walked, the breeze blew across his bloodstained robe, covering the golden embroidery and the auspicious patterns with layer after layer of blood. Only when he could no longer hear any other sounds did he feel a sense of fatigue and sat down, knife in hand. The sky was still dark; it wasn't dawn yet.
Shen Yi propped himself up on the ground, wanting to touch the wound on his body that was still bleeding, when he realized that he was sitting by the stream. Now there was no oil lamp or candlelight around him. He could only hear a faint buzzing sound in his ears, probably from mosquitoes in the grass.
He raised his hands to wash the blood off his face and tried to stand up again. The way home was right in front of him, and he had to take this road.
But he was suddenly tripped by the heaviness of his body. No matter how tightly he clenched his fingers or how deeply the blade dug into the soil, he could not stand up again.
Shen Yi struggled, biting his lower lip to death, tasting the smell of blood. Finally, he staggered to his feet, but suddenly fell down again, falling into the river.
The fingers slipped from the hilt of the knife, and the blood on the robe was blurred by the river water, and clusters of red flowers more beautiful than flowers bloomed beside the green water, like bright oil lamps, or charcoal fires burning in winter, and most like candles blown away by the north wind, burning the whole river with spring colors.
But there is no burning feeling at all. The winter in Jiangnan is warm, and the spring in Jiangnan will only be warmer.
Shen Yi couldn't bear the exhaustion any longer and slowly closed his eyes. The cloth crown holding his hair was washed away by the gurgling water, and he was also supported by the gentle river water.
It flowed down, down, as if to take him home. There were no more noisy sounds in his ears, and no more piles of corpses and dark red blood before his eyes.
Colorful birds alighted on new branches, shaking the crimson peach blossoms to drop petals, scattering them along the bank. The stream flowed endlessly into the distance, flowing to the horizon, where it blended with the sunrise glow.
As for Shen Zixing, sinking in such warmth, sinking in a beautiful dream from which one will never wake up again, he will eventually return home.
I get drunk when I drink, and I have peaceful dreams. I sleep very deeply, very deeply, along with the spring in the south of the Yangtze River, letting the wind blow up circles of ripples, spreading out red blood, making the flowers on the shore pale in comparison.
As for his final arrangements, they were identical to the chess game that Ji Chi had already laid out with the imperial family. With all the officials in attendance, a eunuch standing beside the dragon throne slowly unfolded a bright yellow silk cloth and read the decree written on it, word for word.
"Ms. Shen is gentle, kind, and virtuous, possessing both talent and virtue, and has been specially promoted to the rank of Zhaoyi... After investigation, it was determined that the previous cases in the Xue Mansion were fabricated by Zhao You's faction. She is posthumously granted the title of Marquis of Guannei, with a fief of 100 households... The Jiangnan case will be thoroughly investigated by the Supreme Court, and Zhao You has been removed from his position as Prime Minister. His accomplices will all be replaced by this humble official..."
"…Marquis Jianxin's son posthumously conferred upon his father the title of Duke of Anguo."
"Xue Heng and Xue Congzhi were promoted to Shangshu, and were also in charge of criminal justice..."
"I hereby order—"
The kneeling men bowed their heads, having received great rewards and blessings from heaven. The hungry ghosts mingled among them, still clad in the dark red robes of their officials, lived in the city of Chang'an.
All under heaven belongs to the king. Be it ghosts living on the earth or people buried underground, all within the four heavens are the king's subjects.
The snow in Chang'an is still there, the water in the south of the Yangtze River is still there, and the wind and sand in Longxi are still there, enduring and enduring, from the old year to the new year.
End of Volume 5.
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