Chapter 7
Chapter 7
On the seventh day of the sixth month, the Old King woke up.
He was so ill that he was nothing but a bag of bones, yet he still ordered his men to summon Qi Yan to the palace.
I was uneasy and insisted on going with him.
Qi Yan did not stop me.
In the Medicine Hall deep within the palace, the Old King lay on a couch, his eye sockets sunken. When he saw me, he smiled first.
“The Southern Woman truly knows how to bewitch people.”
Qi Yan bowed. “Father.”
The Old King stared at him. “You killed two of your brothers, destroyed the Priest Court, and investigated half the court. Do you think you’re ridding the people of a scourge?”
Qi Yan remained silent.
“You are as stupid as your mother,” the Old King wheezed. “In this world, there are only wolves and sheep. If you do not eat others, you will be eaten.”
He suddenly raised his hand.
Dozens of Armored Soldiers surged from behind the screens, their crossbows aimed squarely at us.
The Old King laughed. “If you kill this Southern Woman today, I will name you heir. If you do not, I will have you both hacked to pieces and sent to Changyuan Pass to feed the dogs.”
Qi Yan slowly turned his head to look at me.
I looked back at him.
At that moment, I was unexpectedly calm.
I thought of the apricot blossoms when I was twelve, the fires of Taoxi, the skeletal children on the streets of Wuxu, and Qi Yan holding my hand tightly in the rain.
I said, “Do it.”
Qi Yan’s gaze turned cold.
“Shen Zhaoxue.”
“Kill me, and you can live,” I said softly. “Your life is more useful than mine.”
The Old King roared with laughter.
Then, Qi Yan suddenly laughed as well.
He laughed until he coughed up blood, yet he still walked toward the Old King’s couch, step by step.
“Father, you have taught me for over twenty years, but there is only one sentence I agree with.”
The Old King frowned.
Qi Yan leaned over and tucked in the corner of the king’s quilt, his movements so gentle they were almost filial.
“In this world, there are only wolves and sheep.”
In the next instant, he drew a short blade from his sleeve and plunged it into the Old King’s heart.
Cry of alarm rose from the Armored Soldiers.
Qi Yan turned and shielded me behind him.
“But I choose to be the one who kills the wolf.”
The doors of the Medicine Hall burst open, and the Imperial Guards rushed in.
Blood flowed from the Old King’s couch all the way to my feet.
I knew that from this day forward, Qi Yan would never be able to wash away the infamy of parricide.
And I also knew he did it for me.
He also did it so that this world would have one less man-eating king.
On the day Qi Yan ascended the throne, the bells of the royal court did not ring.
Because the bell tower was draped with severed heads.
After the Old King died, Qi Chong’s former subordinates rebelled, the Second Prince attacked the city under the cover of night, and the remnants of the priests incited the commoners to burn the palace. Dragging his sickly body, Qi Yan went without sleep for three days, personally interrogating three hundred and seventy-two officials.
Those who deserved death were killed; those who deserved exile were banished; those whose land was stolen had it returned.
The snow in Wuxu looked as if it had been soaked in blood.
On the fourth day, he ordered the Ritual Official to prepare for a wedding.
I thought I had misheard him.
He sat behind the imperial desk, his face so pale it was almost transparent, yet his voice was steady. “The new Emperor of Northern Yan must appoint an Empress.”
I asked, “Are you mad?”
“I am not.”
“You have just killed your father and taken the throne. The court is unstable, and the Great Liang army is pressing upon our borders. To name me-a tribute woman from Nanliang-as your Empress at a time like this… do you think your reputation isn’t bad enough?”
Qi Yan looked up at me. “It is precisely because of this that I must do it.”
I suddenly understood.
He wanted everyone to know that Northern Yan’s new administration would no longer take Southerners as slaves, nor would it take pride in plunder. He was placing me on the throne of the Empress not for love, but for the people of the world to see.
But at what cost?
He would be cursed by the Northern Yan nobility as a fallen sovereign bewitched by a Southern Woman.
I would be cursed by Great Liang as a traitorous Demon Queen who prostituted herself to the enemy.
The grand wedding was held in the imperial court.
There were no red silks, no music-only undried bloodstains and a hall full of officials as silent as cicadas in winter.
When I walked into the golden hall wearing the Empress Robes, I saw Qi Yan standing upon the Crimson Steps.
He was not wearing his fox fur today; a set of black imperial robes made him look even thinner. The beads hanging from his crown obscured his eyes, but they could not hide the sickly hue of his lips.
The Ritual Official’s voice trembled as he chanted the rites.
I walked toward him, step by step.
Outside the hall, the heads of the rebels were still dripping blood.
Inside the hall, he reached out his hand to me.
That hand was very cold, yet very steady.
He whispered, “Shen Zhaoxue, after today, if you hate me, you will have every right to do so.”
I placed my hand in his palm.
“Qi Yan, after today, if you die, I will remember you for the rest of my life.”
He smiled.
Amidst the blood-red hue of the court, he held my hand and bowed with me to Heaven and Earth, to the mountains and rivers, and to those nameless souls who died in the greed of two nations.
It was the least wedding-like wedding I had ever seen in my life.
It was also the only wedding I would ever acknowledge.