Back to Eight Years Ago IN THE JADE SCROLL'S illusory realm, Mo Xi slowly opened his eyes. He found himself lying in an endless, shapeless darkness beneath the boundless expanse of night. A ribbon of jade-blue light unfurled in the sky, its tightly packed seal-script characters flashing first bright then dim. A deep and solemn voice boomed down from above, hoarse and cracked as the damaged scrolls. "What…dost thou wish to read?"
The history-recording jade scrolls had been successfully pieced back together; this was the invitation to revisit the past. Mo Xi pushed himself upright and spoke to that jade-colored light twisting across the night like the Azure Dragon with fangs and claws bared. "I want to know whether Gu Mang had some secret reason for defecting in this year."
That ribbon of light hung in the air, shimmering and coiling. Just as Mo Xi's hope slowly began to cool, just as he started to wonder if the jade scroll hadn't recorded the relevant events at all, the beam of light exploded into dazzling sparks. Innumerable flashing seal-script characters gathered in the shape of a massive illusory dragon. It had slender eyes and a long mouth, its whiskers and mane flying.
The sky within the jade scroll roiled with a thunderous storm, gales stirring the clouds like waves. Claws and scales flashed as the dragon soared up toward the nine heavens before suddenly diving down toward the minuscule figure that was Mo Xi. A sandstorm whirled to life, the burst of jade-green light blinding as thunder crashed overhead. The last thing Mo Xi knew was the massive dragon falling like a deluge from the dome of heaven, its light piercing his soul like a thousand arrows.
"The…past…is…dead…" A faint sigh, like a final warning to those who came to read the scroll. "Leave…it…to…lie…"
The interplay of light and color swept into his eyes like snowflakes, sinking into his pupils as if trying to inscribe all those accounts carved within the jade scrolls into his flesh and blood.
The light went out.
Mo Xi panted, his vision flashing with interweaving afterimages. He stood rooted to the spot and blinked laboriously, shaking his head back and forth and trying to recover his sight as quickly as possible. He couldn't tell which day from eight years ago the history-recording jade scroll had brought him to. All he knew was that he had arrived somewhere very dim; he could hear rain pattering on the roof, drumming down and streaming over the tiles.
In time, footsteps approached, stopping a short distance away—
The rain tapped on the roof. There was no other sound. Just as Mo Xi was about to conclude he had hallucinated those footfalls, a familiar voice broke the silence.
"The commoner Gu Mang greets Your Imperial Majesty."
This voice, soft as drifting snow, was like a crack of thunder that sent shockwaves through all the blood flowing in Mo Xi's veins. A disjointed, colorful blur of images still danced before Mo Xi's eyes. His eardrums were buzzing, but he endured his dizziness and turned around.
The night wind blew in, bringing the scent of rain and the sweet fragrance of midnight magnolia flowers. Smell, some said, was the sense engraved most deeply in one's memories, hardest to extinguish. Though he couldn't clearly see where he was, as soon as Mo Xi caught a whiff of this fragrance, he was immediately enlightened—
The Golden Terrace.
The history-recording jade scroll had brought him to the most secretive and difficult-to-reach palace hall in all of Chonghua.
The Golden Terrace was built at the edge of the palace's back mountains, with eaves like wings and interlocking brackets, towering above nine-hundred and ninety-nine steps. The entire edifice was built of yellow rosewood, and the hall had been constructed with mortiseand-tenon joints without the use of nail or glue. A field of dragon'stongue magnolia from the immortal island on the East Sea flourished around it, the flowers a dark plum striped with white, in the shape of carp tails. They never wilted, and their fragrance was strong and unmistakable.
Dying with jeweled sword in hand to repay the trust of the king's command. In every generation, only those subjects the emperor trusted and relied on most were permitted to ascend to its peak. From their youth, countless cultivators shouldered their parents' ardent hopes that in the future, they would receive an imperial edict and climb these nine hundred and ninety-nine steps secure in a glory few could hope to attain. From then on, they'd carry their greatswords into battle and leave an undying legacy of meritorious deeds. Even Mo Xi himself was only invited to the Golden Terrace after he swore the Vow of Calamity and became one of these "most trusted subjects."
Never could he have expected that the first place the jade scroll brought him would be the Golden Terrace. Yet what was more astonishing was that the emperor had once summoned Gu Mang here. He had no time for further thought before he heard the emperor say, "General Gu, you've come at last."
The bright spots dancing across Mo Xi's vision were no longer as blinding as before. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. By the time he opened them again, he could finally see what lay in front of him.
It was a stormy night, the exact hour impossible to discern. The gauzy hanging screens on all four sides of the terrace fluttered like smoke in the rain and wind. The emperor knelt, straight-backed, on a spread mat. Beside him were lacquer railings carved with motifs of dragons and clouds, and a half-drawn bamboo screen. Outside, the rain flooded down in torrents; jade droplets splashed into the room, but the emperor paid them no mind. He turned from the distant, storm-shrouded mountains and looked through the hazy candlelight toward the entrance of the hall. Mo Xi's gaze followed his.
Once again, he saw the Gu Mang of eight years ago whom he'd glimpsed in the Time Mirror. But the Gu Mang in this historyrecording jade scroll seemed somehow colder. As a clap of thunder broke the skies, a flash of lightning illuminated Gu Mang's face, stark and sinister.
"General Gu, come in."
Gu Mang pressed his lips into a tight line. He held a folded oilpaper umbrella, dripping with rainwater. There were no servants on the Golden Terrace, so Gu Mang leaned it against a pillar and strode slowly onto the terrace, bringing the cold night with him.
"Sit." The emperor gestured at the low table. "We've been waiting up for you, and now you're finally here."
Gu Mang took a seat on the opposite side. Besides coolness and apathy, there was a faint confusion in the set of Gu Mang's brows. He didn't seem to understand why the emperor had summoned him here; he'd certainly never imagined the emperor would let him set foot in such a place. As expected, after a short silence, Gu Mang said, "I'm unsure for which urgent matter Your Imperial Majesty has called me."
In lieu of an answer, the emperor toyed with the red clay pot on the table, waving a little black bamboo fan to help the tea fire burn more merrily. As the scalding steam rose into the damp, chilly wind, it was swallowed by the curtain of rain. Over the crash of the storm, the emperor spoke. "General Gu, do you despise us?"
The only sound was the rain outside.
"We heard when Xihe-jun took you out drinking, you told him you were very tired, that you couldn't bear it anymore…"
"Does Your Imperial Majesty have people tailing me?" Gu Mang's voice rang cold.
The emperor continued fanning the flame under the pot and didn't deny it.
"Why does Your Imperial Majesty make such an effort? You've stripped me of my rank, revoked my authority, detained my remaining soldiers." After a pause, Gu Mang continued. "And sentenced my dearest brother to death. These days, I'm a mere commoner. Broken wings cannot fly. Your Imperial Majesty needn't waste this sort of effort on a member of the rabble."
"We're just asking. General Gu, do you despise us?"
Gu Mang said nothing.
"In truth, you don't need to say it for us to know. You've fought wholeheartedly for the nation for so long, in so many battles, but now you have nothing left aside from yourself. We took it all from you— even when you begged us for gravestones for your brothers in front of the full court of civil and military officials, you received only mockery and derision." The emperor laughed softly. "If you could, General Gu likely would've cracked our bones for soup long ago."
"Did Your Imperial Majesty invite me here today just to chat?"
asked Gu Mang.
The tea came to a boil in the crackle-glazed ceramic pot, which pinged sharply from the steam. The emperor lifted it by the hoop of its bamboo-wrapped handle and poured two cups of strong tea, one for himself and one for Gu Mang. He pushed the teacup toward Gu Mang with long fingers. "No. We asked to see you…so that we may exonerate a certain person."
Like a frozen lake splitting, the icy mask Gu Mang wore cracked to reveal human emotion. He looked up. Gu Mang's lips trembled as he stared into the emperor's eyes. After a long moment, one word stumbled from his mouth. "Who?"
Outside the curtain screen, lightning flashed. Pale light washed the sky and the mountains, reflecting in the eyes of the two staring at each other over candlelight. The emperor said, "Just who you're thinking of. Lu Zhanxing."
Thunder cleaved the skies with a boom. That earthshaking crash seemed to pierce the heavens like a sharp sword, the lingering rumbles puncturing the pavilion's roof to stab right into Mo Xi's heart. Cold entered his bones like waves overflowing, rushing up his spine…
Lu Zhanxing…had been falsely accused?
And more importantly, the emperor knew of it?
Rain slanted in the fierce winds, extinguishing several candle lamps. The light on the Golden Terrace dimmed. But even like this, Mo Xi could see Gu Mang's face, terrifyingly pale. It was obvious Mo Xi wasn't the only one shocked by this news—Gu Mang was nailed to his seat, his eyes wide and blank. Only after a long while did he speak like a puppet receiving the breath of life. He paused with every syllable, his words halting. "What did you say?"
"Lu Zhanxing was falsely accused. Your brother was the victim of another's plot."
Gu Mang looked as pale as a corpse. Wind buffeted the burning candelabras on the high terrace, and the flickering light of the candles danced across his colorless face. Rain drummed down around them. A moth had hidden beneath the eaves to escape the monstrous claws of the downpour, never knowing its grave awaited it on the terrace. It fluttered around the hungry flame, as if about to dart into its fatal light at any moment.
Only after a long interval did Gu Mang speak. "Is Your Imperial Majesty joking?"
"We knew you would react like this." The emperor pushed the teacup toward Gu Mang's hand again. "Drink it. It'll get cold if you don't. This is Peach Blossom Springs immortal tea left behind by Imperial Grandfather. There are only five small bricks of it in total. Imperial Grandfather opened one to present to the Grand Chancellor at his appointment ceremony, as a show of respect. This second, we offer you today."
By now, Gu Mang's shock had yielded to fury and terror. He was like an animal spun cruelly round and round, dizzied by the carrot and the stick. What this man before him planned to do, what schemes he had in store for him, whether what came next would be honey candy or a whipping—Gu Mang knew none of it. He surged to his feet, chest heaving, and stared down at Chonghua's most respected, most powerful figure. "What does Your Imperial Majesty mean by this?!"
Mo Xi could see Gu Mang had to use a lifetime's worth of restraint to keep his voice below a shout. But Gu Mang's hands were shaking, and his nails sank deep into his palms.
The emperor picked up the teacup, looking indifferently at Gu Mang. The mournful wind caught his wide sleeves and sent them fluttering. Only then did Mo Xi realize the emperor wore neither imperial robes nor crown. He was attired in a set of unremarkable clothes with a white jade hairpin securing his simply dressed black hair.
"We mean to say that we're sorry, General Gu. We owe you an apology." He ignored Gu Mang's shocked and confused expression as he drank the strong tea in a single gulp, then showed Gu Mang the empty cup.
Gu Mang took a step back, stammering, his lips opening and closing around indistinct words. Even if he couldn't hear them, Mo Xi knew what he was saying.
Lu Zhanxing was falsely accused… Lu Zhanxing was falsely accused…
"What was he falsely accused of… What was he falsely accused of?" Gu Mang mumbled. His voice was hoarse, its pitch rising, yet his words still came slow as his mutters turned to hysterical shouts. "Was it that he didn't kill the envoy at Phoenix Cry Mountain?! Is that it?! Why didn't he tell me, why didn't he speak out? Why are you telling me this now, why are you the one to tell me this?!"
His pupils shrank to pinpricks as he stared, wild-eyed, into the emperor's expressionless face. He had lost his mind to the point that he, a common-born criminal, dared speak like this to the son of the imperial family. To the point that Gu Mang, who had always been cautious and prudent before the nobles, would dare use the common you to address his emperor.
As for the emperor, he slowly looked up. He had always been ruthless and paranoid, but he didn't berate Gu Mang for his discourtesy. "No. At the battle of Phoenix Cry Mountain, Lu Zhanxing was indeed the one who executed the envoy. No one framed him, no one coerced him. However." Looking at Gu Mang's shaking figure, the emperor paused. He produced a white chess piece streaked with scarlet blood and placed it gently on the table.
"Someone possessed him, and he became their unwitting pawn." The emperor drew back from the table as he murmured, "General Gu has dabbled in forbidden techniques. Take a look… Do you recognize this white chess piece?"