THE HOUR WAS LATE; the chatter of women and plucking of strings rose and fell without cease within Apricot Mansion. Mo Xi headed straight for the balcony where Gu Mang resided; he wasn't worried about being seen by others. Yue Chenqing's paternal grandfather had made the cloak Mo Xi wore using feathers of the traceless bird. Though these feathers were known to lose their effectiveness when plucked from the bird's body, the late Yue patriarch was a grandmaster artificer who had successfully preserved some properties of the plumes. This cloak could render its wearer invisible thrice.
Mo Xi jumped down from the eaves of the roof and landed soundlessly upon the balcony flourishing with flowers. The eight-grid tortoiseshell and bamboo door was open wide. Gu Mang hadn't called Miss Feitian the pipa player back; he was alone in the room.
Gu Mang sat at the table with his eyes closed, elbow propped on the table and cheek pressed in one hand. He looked as if he were asleep, yet also seemed keenly alert, his long lashes fluttering with every exhale. Smoke rose in spirals from the incense burner at his side, blurring and gentling his features. Mo Xi looked him over, inch by inch, from the tails of his eyes and the tips of his brows to his lips and chin. The candlelight's glow was like orange butterflies alighting on the tip of his nose.
Wrapped in the invisibility cloak, Mo Xi approached him with his breath held and attention rapt, staring down at his too-familiar face. He suddenly understood how Murong Lian could depend on ephemera so deeply despite knowing it was a poison that he shouldn't touch—knowing it could dissolve one's willpower and erode one's strength, yet still choosing pleasure over life.
His addiction to Gu Mang had sunk into his bone and marrow, deep as intoxicating smoke.
There came a knock at the door.
Mo Xi and Gu Mang snapped out of their trance at nearly the same time. Mo Xi took a step back; Gu Mang stood to open the door.
Mo Xi thought it would be another little pipa-playing minx. But when the door opened and Gu Mang turned to let the newcomer in, Mo Xi found it was no songstress at all, but rather a figure in a black cloak much like his own.
This person wasn't using an invisibility cloak, but they had hidden their face completely behind a gold and silver mask. The only detail to be gleaned from their tall and upright figure was that this individual was likely male.
Who?
Mo Xi had scarcely finished the thought when the cloaked man spoke. His voice was obviously distorted by a voice-changing spell. It came out as an uncanny rasp.
"Did anything strange happen today?" the man asked.
Gu Mang was silent for a moment, then answered: "No."
"Is that so?" the cloaked man replied thoughtfully. "No one came to visit?"
"No," Gu Mang said again.
At his insistence, the masked man dropped the matter. He placed a bundle wrapped in cloth on the table. "I brought this for you. You should change into it."
Gu Mang turned down a corner of the bundle, but then quickly folded it back up. "What do you mean by this?"
"If you're going there, you'd best prepare, hadn't you?"
Gu Mang's fingertips hovered over the package. At these words, he tensed, his fingers curling around the cloth. This only left Mo Xi more perplexed. Gu Mang had always been the picture of steady composure. If the sky should fall on him, he would probably use it as a blanket. Yet the cloaked man had made Gu Mang blanch with just this handful of words.
"If I tell you what's there, I doubt you'll believe it," the cloaked man said. "Tonight, I'll take you there in person, so you can see the truth with your own eyes."
However warm and soft the candlelight, it brought no color to Gu Mang's pale face. He seemed to suppress some complicated emotion, until even his lips were bloodless. He lowered his lashes, his shoulders trembling. In the end, he took the cloth bundle and disappeared behind the screen.
When Gu Mang stepped out, he was wearing clothes indistinguishable from those of the cloaked man. A dark cape embroidered in pale gold with a swirling cloud-and-thunder pattern obscured his form completely. "Let's go."
The two departed the Boudoir of Lingering Fragrance one after another. Mo Xi followed in their wake.
This brothel played host to all sorts. The madam and maidens working here all had three don'ts engraved into their hearts: don't look, don't ask, don't listen. When two conspicuously dressed men walked through the corridors of the brothel, the servant girls didn't show the slightest hint of surprise. They merely lowered their heads and made obeisance, and kept their heads down until the men were gone.
Gu Mang and that black-garbed man didn't speak as they walked; the two kept the distance of strangers. The black-garbed man walked in front, with Gu Mang wholly silent as he followed behind.
If the black-garbed man had any martial abilities, they weren't obvious, and he kept his aura well concealed. Mo Xi couldn't probe his spiritual energy flow any further without exposing his own position; he could only tail them to see where they were going.
When they had walked for the time it took to burn an incense stick, their direction became clear, and the doubts in Mo Xi's heart deepened. This was…the way to Warrior Soul Mountain? As he expected, they eventually stopped at the foot of Warrior Soul Mountain.
There were no guards at the entrance eight years ago. Nevertheless, the graves of generations of Chonghua's heroic dead stood at the summit of the mountain—there was still a formless barrier at the gate to denote respect and reverence. This barrier could disperse almost every disguise or invisibility spell. Mo Xi could track them no farther.
Gu Mang lowered the hood of his cloak and gazed at the winding stone path. Pines and bamboo swayed on either side, and bright moonlight shone through the tips of their branches to scatter over the ancient limestone steps.
"What is it?" asked the black-garbed man.
"Just thinking about how I'll be leaving soon, and my hands will be stained with the blood of Chonghua's soldiers. I…"
He said no more, but Mo Xi's heart clenched. Sure enough, Gu Mang had been lying when they'd talked. He had already decided to defect. He was already certain that in the future, his hands would be stained with the blood of his former comrades.
Gu Mang… Gu Mang… Why did you do it? Who is this mysterious black-clothed man at your side?!
Mo Xi's eyes burned red with the desire to snatch away that man's mask. He squashed the impulse down. Mo Xi had a feeling that, were he to remove this mask, many questions might be answered, and many mysteries explained. But the trail would end there—he would be unable to discover more. What he learned would not make up for what he would lose.
Swallowing thickly, Mo Xi endured the rushing impatience in his heart. He heard the black-garbed man speak:
"Chonghua's current state is as you've seen. You experienced it yourself after Phoenix Cry Mountain. When you and your army fell from grace, all you found were those who would kick you when you were down, none who would offer help in your hour of need." The black-garbed man noticed Gu Mang about to protest and waved a hand. "You don't need to tell me that if Xihe-jun were here, he would side with you. His support is useless. You're a clever person; you understand that Chonghua has always been ruled by the nobles. You cannot change anything with your power alone."
Mo Xi's ears seemed to ring. This person was clearly encouraging Gu Mang to defect—he was describing Chonghua's current attitudes, telling Gu Mang other than Xihe-jun, no one would support you… Was this man from the Liao Kingdom?
No, that was impossible. How could anyone from Liao move so easily through Chonghua to enter this deserted place? How could anyone from Liao so openly stand in front of Gu Mang without stirring up his intense disgust and reproach?
Unless…
Unless Gu Mang trusted this black-garbed man more than the nation of Chonghua. But how could such trust be built in a couple of months, with just a couple of words? Had Gu Mang already had dealings with some Liao Kingdom spy since long ago? How could this be?
"It's come to this," the man said. "The pieces are already in place for your treason; this move cannot be taken back."
Mo Xi's throat seemed to be filled with cloying blood. On this one short day eight years ago, on the eve of Gu Mang's defection, so much had happened that was buried by the sands of time—His Imperial Majesty's cold ruthlessness, Lu Zhanxing's stubborn devotion to his aim, Gu Mang's many worries…as well as this black-garbed man undisguisedly pushing Gu Mang onto the path to hell.
Gu Mang heard every word the man said, but he showed no reaction. The night wind blew harder, buffeting Gu Mang's wide sleeves like fallen flowers in the grip of a sudden gust. The cold evening seemed to chill him, his fingers curling as if he wanted to tuck them into his cuffs.
The black-garbed man reached out from beneath his dark sleeves and wrapped one fine-boned hand around Gu Mang's.
Mo Xi wasn't the only one stunned by this movement—Gu Mang's head whipped around, dark eyes wide in shock. He wanted to pull away, yet didn't move.
"General Gu," the black-garbed man said gravely, "none who seek to blaze a new path have hands unsullied by blood." As he spoke, he lowered his lashes to carefully examine Gu Mang's fingers and palm. "You know what the nobles of Chonghua are like. As I said, you're a clever person—I don't need to say much. Go up the mountain and take a look." The blackgarbed man paused. "It is my hope that after you've seen it, you'll understand what can and cannot be believed, and what is and is not worth the price."
Gu Mang closed his eyes. His cloak snapped in the night wind as it whipped past. In the quiet night, Mo Xi wished so deeply that Gu Mang would flatly refuse; that he would push the black-garbed man away and say I don't want to defect. Even Let me think about it would be enough.
But Gu Mang said nothing. In this heartbreaking, bone-shattering silence, Mo Xi's heart chilled.
"I understand," Gu Mang said. "Let's go."
With that, he strode through the barrier on Warrior Soul Mountain, his black robes billowing like clouds of ink as he ascended the mountain without looking back.
Mo Xi didn't know how long the pair spent on Warrior Soul Mountain. He was numb all over. A single day in the Time Mirror had opened a box stuffed with eight years of secrets; they came tumbling down on him like an avalanche. This man, who had always stood so tall and upright as if he could bear any burden, found himself leaning against the stone wall just to keep on his feet. Though he managed to stand, his vision flashed dark. These events of the past tore at his tendons, ground his bones into dust. In the end, Mo Xi slid slowly to the ground, doubling over beside the limestone mountain path.
He raised a trembling hand to cover his face. The sheer number of threads he was trying follow had him tangled in a mess. How cold-blooded and detached would he have to be to maintain his composure after suffering such a shock?
As dawn began to peek through the clouds, Gu Mang and that blackgarbed man descended the mountain. Just as before, the man walked in front, with Gu Mang trailing behind. An exhausted Mo Xi looked up through eyes spiderwebbed with blood vessels. He faced the faint light of dawn as he watched those two draw near, then pass back through the barrier.
Mo Xi's mind had been thrown into disarray; he felt utterly destroyed. At that moment, even this darling of the heavens wouldn't have been able to recite anything from the book Legends of Divine Catastrophe he'd memorized in childhood.
Despite it all, in the hazy mist of morning, he could tell from a single glance that Gu Mang had been crying.
Gu Mang was an indomitable man, but a strong spirit wasn't necessarily contained in a strong body. Gu Mang's body was warm and soft, his black eyes as gentle as a queen of the night blooming amid darkness, easily shedding tears from sorrow or stimulation. Mo Xi had explored Gu Mang's body as thoroughly as he'd explored his own mind; engraved upon his memories was Gu Mang in all his moods. The instant he saw the faint redness at the delicate outer corners of Gu Mang's eyes, Mo Xi knew Gu Mang had wept.
For whom, or for what, was he crying? For the past he was helpless to change, or the future on which he had staked everything?
The two men came to a stop at the foot of the mountain. The blackgarbed man looked up at the sky. "It's late. If we stay longer, we'll be discovered."
"Yes." Gu Mang's voice was slightly hoarse. He performed an extremely formal obeisance toward the black-garbed man. "I've seen all that I should. Many thanks for tonight's accompaniment. Farewell."
"No need to thank me. You as well… Take care."
In a flash, the black-garbed man leapt up with qinggong and vanished into the breaking light of day. Gu Mang turned to take one last look at Warrior Soul Mountain, wreathed in mist. Then he tightened his black cloak around his shoulders as if it were hiding some precious secret. He lowered his head and strode away.
Mo Xi had no need to hide after Gu Mang left. He removed the concealment spells and walked up Warrior Soul Mountain alone to search for clues. He made for the restricted area. Since Gu Mang had told him it seemed familiar, Mo Xi could believe he had most likely gone there.
The restricted area on Warrior Soul Mountain was built with the strength of the imperial family, but it was simply a prototype at this point. It wouldn't be difficult to break the barrier. Mo Xi stood outside the deserted mountain area, his fingertips brushing the glowing light array. It was highlevel, but still no more than an ordinary blocking barrier, nowhere near as impenetrable as the one eight years hence. But here in the Mirror, as an uninvited guest no less, his spiritual energy and magical abilities had been greatly impaired. The array wasn't perfect, but he couldn't break it. The barrier glowed relentlessly in front of Warrior Soul Mountain's restricted area, as if in mockery of this wandering soul who had come from the future.
"Chonghua's current state is what it is. You cannot change anything with your power alone."
"General Gu, none of those who seek to blaze a new path have hands unsullied by blood."
"You know what the nobles of Chonghua are like."
"The pieces are already in place for your treason; this move cannot be taken back."
Who was the black-garbed man? His words were intended to remind Gu Mang that Chonghua held bloodlines sacrosanct above all, to convince him to pledge allegiance to a new ruler. He sounded exactly like a Liao Kingdom agent trying to convince Gu Mang to defect.
But did Gu Mang really collude with those from the Liao Kingdom so early? Mo Xi could think of one other possibility. The restricted area on Warrior Soul Mountain was built according to the imperial family's instructions. Perhaps some rebellious noble saw something within it, realized what the emperor was planning, and developed treasonous intentions. So he brought Gu Mang here to witness it for himself—all the better to cause him anguish and shatter his resolve, prompting him to make a clean break with Chonghua's nobility and blaze a dark path.
But this line of reasoning also had its holes. Many factions jockeyed for power in Chonghua's imperial court, but which noble would truly want to see the system that honored bloodlines above all overturned…?
His heart was battered by one question after another. Mo Xi felt he was trapped in a dense and disorienting fog; he groped about within it but had no way of capturing the truth. In the end, he couldn't uncover the secret on the opposite side of the barrier. The only thing he was sure of was that Gu Mang's defection was far from the simple matter it seemed.
By the time he returned to Xihe Manor, Mo Xi still hadn't completely recovered. Shuang Qiu, holding a plate of tea and snacks, carefully approached. "My lord," she said tentatively. "My lord, did you not sleep well last night?"
Mo Xi didn't make a sound. He knew how unsightly and ridiculous he looked.
He used to think that the ancient notes regarding the deadliness of the Time Mirror were preposterous, but he now realized they were no exaggeration. Gu Mang had been completely hypnotized by the illusion, while Mo Xi couldn't escape the torment of the Mirror even as a bystander who had been pulled into the past.
Everyone had regrets in life, and all manner of secrets were concealed within the twists and turns of a lifetime. When faced with these regrets, wouldn't anyone who returned to the past want to try and mend it? When faced with these secrets, wouldn't anyone from the future be astonished?
When someone traveled back in time within the Mirror, they would realize that seas could rise or mountains could fall by the whims of a single word or misstep. Or they might end up like Mo Xi, learning that the reality he'd assumed true was but a shoddy facade that had fooled him for eight long years. And yet the truth eluded him.
Mo Xi felt as if his head were splitting; the pain was about to drive him mad.
"My lord," Shuang Qiu started. "You…"
He was gripping his teacup too hard; it shattered with a sudden squeeze of his fingers. Shuang Qiu screamed as blood ran from the cuts, streaming over the pale skin of his hand. "M-my lord," she stammered, "I'll help you at once—"
"Get out."
"My lord?"
Mo Xi's dark eyes were so bloodshot, they looked to be veiled in red clouds. He stared at the blood trickling without pause from his hand and rasped, "Get lost."
Shuang Qiu didn't dare talk back; she hastily tidied the plates and cups and scurried out. Mo Xi didn't wipe the blood from his hand, hoping the mild pain could help clear his head.
He desperately needed to clear his head.
There were two days until Lu Zhanxing's execution. He could still bear it; he wouldn't disrupt the past inside the Time Mirror over a momentary impulse. He hoped Murong Chuyi and the rest wouldn't defeat the shangao and rescue them from the Mirror so quickly. The present had already buried this past he was in; he wanted to stay longer in this world of eight years ago.
Gu Mang once said he would choose to burn brilliantly even if the fire reduced him to ash. Mo Xi didn't have such a grandiose dream. But even if the agony should grind him to dust, he would choose to dig out the truth.