Chapter 8

Chapter 8

I rode through the night, racing back to Yaling.

The winter roads were treacherous. My horse slipped countless times, and I fell thrice. Each time my knees slammed into the frozen earth, the pain was so sharp my vision went dark.

But I didn’t stop.

It was the dawn of the fourth day when I finally reached Yaling.

Zhao Qi was standing by the door. The one-armed veteran leaned against the doorframe, head tilted back as he stared at the sky.

When he saw me, he said nothing. He simply stepped aside.

I rushed into the main hall.

Grandfather sat in his old chair, facing south. His posture was exactly the same as when I had left.

Only, he was no longer breathing.

I knelt before him for a long time.

I didn’t cry.

He had once said that the soft-hearted don’t survive their first battle.

I swallowed my tears and reached out to touch his hand. It was ice-cold, but his fingertips were calloused-marks left behind by six years of handling bamboo slips.

From the doorway, Zhao Qi spoke softly. “When the Master passed, it happened to be a full moon. The moonlight was so bright. He said… he said it looked like he could see it.”

“What did he see?” I asked.

“He said he saw Chang’an.”

I closed my eyes.

Six years. He had sat facing south for six years. In the end, that city he could never return to had come to meet him in the form of moonlight.

I didn’t know if that counted as a peaceful end.

But I knew that from this moment on, I was truly a person walking the night path alone.

What they call ‘home and country’ is merely having someone to remember where you came from so that you can move forward with peace of mind. Now that the one who kept the path is gone, I must remember it myself.

I must remember where I came from, and I must remember-I still owe this world a debt.

***

Lone Blade (Part Two)

After burying Grandfather, I stayed in Yaling for seven days.

Zhao Qi kept watch over the funeral tablet for me. He sat there night after night without closing his eyes, one arm propped on his knee, looking more like a grieving son than I did.

On the morning of the seventh day, I rose to pack my bags. Zhao Qi blocked my way at the courtyard gate.

“Miss Shen.”

It was the first time he had called me that.

“Before the Master passed, he told me to give you something.”

He pulled an oil-paper bundle from his robes. After unwrapping several layers, a worn copper seal was revealed.

I took it and turned it over. Two words were carved into the base: Shen Yuan.

It was Grandfather’s private seal. The one he had used back when he was the Secretary-General.

“The Master said it was time for you to have this. He said-” Zhao Qi paused, seemingly trying hard to recall the exact words. “He said, take it, and in the future, you will know its use.”

I tucked the copper seal into my tunic, pressing it against my chest. The metal was freezing cold.

“Uncle Zhao, what about you?”

Zhao Qi gave a small smile and patted the courtyard gate with his remaining hand. “I’ll watch over this place for the Master. I’m not going anywhere.”

I nodded and didn’t try to persuade him further.

Some people’s lives are grown into a place; they cannot be uprooted. Zhao Qi’s life had been tied to Xie Changgeng’s side for over a decade. Now that his young master was gone, he had struck roots next to the Master’s grave.

This was perhaps the most humble way to write the words ‘loyalty’ and ‘righteousness.’

As I swung myself onto my horse, I took one last look at Grandfather’s grave.

The mound was still fresh earth, coated in a layer of white by the thin winter frost.

In my heart, I whispered: Grandfather, I’m leaving. This time, I’m truly leaving.