LI WEI STOOD BENEATH Xihe Manor's plaque in the middle of the main entrance, arms crossed and hands tucked into opposite sleeves. His eyes were fixed on the ground. Behind him were the manor's great doors, heavily secured, and before him was the stone residence pillar conferred by the previous emperor, engraved in lesser seal script with the glorious merits of four generations of Mo Clan heroes.
"Housekeeper Li, this is an act of rebellion! Does Xihe Manor choose to defy the imperial edict?!"
"What are you saying, Eunuch Zhao? Haven't I already explained? Xihe-jun is indisposed. He can't come out to receive the imperial edict. Once his condition improves, I'll report the imperial order. You mustn't get angry; you'll make yourself sick."
Eunuch Zhao was seething with rage. Jabbing a finger toward Housekeeper Li's nose, he snapped, "Li Wei! Do your lies know no bounds?! The news of Xihe-jun's trespass into Sishu Terrace has already spread through the heavens! He stole that Gu traitor from Elder Zhou himself and now you stand out here saying he's unwell— who are you trying to fool?!"
Li Wei rubbed his nose and sighed. "It's a long story. I'm afraid there have been several misunderstandings…"
"What misunderstandings could there be! This night, Shennong Terrace has gone in, Princess Mengze has gone in, Jiang Fuli has gone in—Xihe-jun can receive all of these people, but the mouthpiece of the emperor is kept outside? What nonsense is this?!"
Li Wei clapped his hands together. "Aiyo, you're right! Then you've noticed—everyone who went in is a healer, and all of them are here to treat the lord! The lord is very gravely ill."
"You—!"
A creak interrupted their argument as the manor doors opened.
Mo Xi stood framed within the great doors. In the moonlight, his eyes were sharp, undulled by his exhaustion.
Li Wei had deflected these messengers for as long as humanly possible. Upon seeing Mo Xi emerge, he heaved a great sigh of relief and hastily darted out of the way. He lowered his head. "My lord."
Mo Xi stepped over the threshold, his voice low, unhurried, and intense. "You've done well. You may withdraw."
"Understood."
After Li Wei left, Mo Xi strode out. His gaze swept down the manor steps and landed on Eunuch Zhao. Even as the emperor's closest, most trusted servant, Eunuch Zhao was not immune to the pressures of hierarchy and status. Plus, Mo Xi naturally possessed a glacial aura. When he wasn't speaking or smiling, the iciness he exuded intimidated all around him.
Eunuch Zhao's earlier boldness shrank to nothing. He lowered his head and performed his obeisance. "Xihe-jun."
Mo Xi didn't speak. He turned his face up to the starry night sky, eyes flashing with an indescribable light.
"His Imperial Majesty asks you—"
"How is His Imperial Majesty's health?"
Eunuch Zhao was stunned. He had imagined all sorts of reactions—acceptance, fury, defiance…but he was strangled into silence by this question out of the blue.
"Mengze said his illness flared up these past few days. How is he now?"
"…Xihe-jun's consideration is appreciated. His Imperial Majesty is naturally protected by the heavens and has mostly recovered."
"All right. That's good." Mo Xi's steel-toed military boots clicked over the stone. He descended the stairs and said lightly, "Lead the way."
______
They arrived at Zhuque Hall in the depths of the imperial palace, the warmest place in the entire compound. This imperial hall wasn't large, but it was built entirely of volcanic rock from the far south. Warming incense spiraled through the air, and the floor was covered in thick woolen rugs. The emperor always came here to rest and recuperate when his illness plagued him.
Mo Xi followed Eunuch Zhao to the hall's entrance. Eunuch Zhao went in to make his report, then returned with his horsetail whisk in the crook of one arm. He bowed to Mo Xi. "Xihe-jun, His Imperial Majesty invites you in."
He strode through the hall doors. Mo Xi had never liked this place; the rugs here were too thick. His feet sank deep into the soft pile whenever he came here, like a wild beast trapped in mud, or a moth stuck in a spider's web. That feeling of helplessness crept up his spine, lingering in spite of the luxurious scents suffusing the room.
Eunuch Zhao closed the doors behind him. The bejeweled Zhuque Hall was filled with a heavy fragrance, as if the air itself had grown dense and solid.
The weather had warmed in the last weeks, but a coal brazier blazed fiercely in the middle of the hall. The emperor reclined on a couch of ebony sandalwood. He was wrapped in thick fox fur, his lashes lowered as he fiddled with a bracelet of dzi beads carved of bodhi wood. His complexion was pale and wan—even the fire's light gilding his features put no warmth on his face.
At the sound of Mo Xi's muffled steps, the emperor let his fingers fall from the beads. He spoke with a sigh thinner than paper. "Xihejun, you're here."
Mo Xi said nothing.
To be honest, he'd felt an overflowing rage since the moment he learned the truth. He'd wanted to run off to the palace to question the emperor at once—but Gu Mang was still in jeopardy, so he couldn't very well leave. Only after Jiang Fuli rushed over and successfully stabilized Gu Mang could he finally come to the palace and face this man who had known the truth all along.
Now that he was actually standing before the emperor, his rage was not as sharp and volatile as it had been in the beginning, but it was deeper. He suppressed his own fury with great difficulty as he stared at that ruler wrapped in fox fur.
"We requested your presence tonight over a small matter," the emperor began. "Zhou He related quite a strange story to us, and we felt that it should be shared with Xihe-jun. Would Xihe-jun like to hear it?"
Mo Xi made no move to answer, so the emperor continued. "Zhou He said he was conducting the black magic experiments as we ordered tonight. In the middle of an important trial, someone burst in, disregarding all reason and defying imperial orders, and insisted on taking the test subject away. They even went so far as to flout the law and summon a holy weapon, coming just short of shedding the blood of our own Sishu Terrace's cultivators. Does Xihe-jun feel that this thief must be a wicked, evil villain?" The emperor spun one of the beads on his wrist and burst into laughter. "So did we. Until Zhou He said this hero who had come to the rescue…" He paused, slowly looking up. His face was lined with fatigue, but those eyes were cold and sharp. "…was you."
These two words seemed to have been pushed through bared teeth. The emperor sat up straight, his brows stark over the dark shadows of his eyes. Emperor and subject gazed at one another over the blazing coal brazier, over the rising heat and smoke. Their images reflected in each other's eyes were hazy and distorted.
The emperor's voice was dark. "Xihe-jun, you've disappointed us deeply. We ask you—when we handed Gu Mang to you, what did we say?"
Mo Xi remained silent.
"We warned you that, in light of the great crimes Gu Mang has committed, he ought to have gone to the executioner's block long ago. We kept him alive solely because the Liao Kingdom techniques written into his body were worthy of further study. That there would come a day when he would be taken for such study, and on that day, we hoped you would not forget who you are and take the wrong side on impulse."
These had indeed been the emperor's words. Back then, Mo Xi had only felt suffocated. Hearing them for the second time now, he found them absurdly mocking and terrifying.
Mo Xi studied the emperor's face, seeking the slightest hint of guilt, sadness, or hesitation. But there was none. The mask he wore was exquisite; every line and angle of emotion seemed to have been measured a hundred times before it was portrayed. There was not the merest waver in his eyes.
Hardest to read was the heart of the king… When had this saying been wrong?
Mo Xi closed his eyes. Coldness and rage, disappointment and sorrow filled the veins that flowed through his body, but the emperor's words stabbed into his eardrums like scorpion venom. "Xihe-jun, as we see it, you've gone blind; you've discounted all the warnings we gave you. You've forgotten you are the top general of Chonghua, and forgotten who stabbed you in the heart. You've forgotten who rescued you and gave you a second chance at life, forgotten who killed tens of thousands of our nation's people. You've entirely forgotten who the traitor is, haven't you."
A piece of prickly ash burst inside the brazier with a crackle, and a trail of bright sparks flew up, dancing in the air. Mo Xi opened his eyes.
He held back his fury, so intense it threatened to overwhelm him; he endured the trembling of his hands, so enraged they were shaking, pushing down his fiery anger that surged like lava. He spoke, voice low. "Is Your Imperial Majesty done?"
The emperor stilled. He stared dark-eyed into Mo Xi's face. He'd finally realized the state Mo Xi was in; looking at him more closely, he found that even his spiritual flow was fluctuating wildly.
Could it be—!
The emperor was filled with an extreme unease, unconsciously tightening his grip on the dzi bead bracelet. The last bit of color in his face faded. In this fraught moment between ruler and subject, it seemed as if everything had been laid bare.
"If so, then I, too, have a strange tale. I'm not sure if Your Imperial Majesty dares listen to it."
After a long while, the emperor reclined deep into the couch. He had already guessed what Mo Xi was about to say—there was only one thing that could change his mind so suddenly and resolutely. That last layer of paper between them shuddered, waiting to be punctured.
Mo Xi's eyes never left the emperor's, pausing between each word as he tore through that paper screen. "Many years ago, there was someone I knew. That man performed outstanding military achievements for the nation, fighting for years on end and only ever recording a single loss. Later, for the price of seventy thousand gravestones, for the equal world his emperor promised him, he went deep into the enemy's ranks, suffering a mission in unceasing torment for a full five years. In those five years, not a single day passed when he didn't rue the blood he spilled, when he didn't hope for his emperor to show him that old promise fulfilled…"
The emperor's face paled with every word he spoke. Each one was like a sharp knife piercing that flawless mask, shredding his many falsehoods into tattered scraps. Each and every word Mo Xi set down before the emperor was soaked in glaring scarlet.
"In the end, this man returned to his nation but lost his memories. Other than the emperor he'd once entrusted with his life, no one knew he wasn't guilty. He was universally reviled, debased, and imprisoned. The nation hated him, blamed him, humiliated him, wished for his death. And his emperor, who had once promised him that he would one day be exonerated, that he would be bestowed that blue-gold ribbon of heroes—said he was only left alive as fodder for black magic experiments!"
Explosive fury ignited Mo Xi's eyes. No matter how he tried to suppress it, by now his voice was quaking. His black eyes seemed to spark with flame. "Your Imperial Majesty. I'm not sure you're familiar with this story?"
The emperor's face was whiter than paper. In this dangerous silence, he tried to put the bracelet back onto his wrist. His hand was trembling slightly, and he didn't succeed on the first try; only on the second attempt did he wrap the beads properly.
"Mo Xi." The emperor looked up. "What nerve you have… You dared trespass into the Imperial Censorate to steal the historyrecording jade scrolls…"
"So…" Mo Xi closed his eyes, his voice shaking from rage. "You were the one who destroyed them." His eyes snapped open. The emperor had never seen such anguish and frigid cold in those pupils. It chilled him to the bone.
The emperor was of an age with Mo Xi; they had essentially grown up together. He knew too well the character of this youthful commander of the empire.
His father had once said: "The Mo bloodline is loyal, strong, brave, stubborn, and tenacious… They are ruled by absolute principle. They will never covet your throne, nor will they do anything to oppose you without real cause. But if a day comes when he believes something you've done violates the tenets he believes in, he will stand against you, with no fear of death nor thought for reputation. He will become the sharpest needle in your eye and the most painful thorn in your flesh."
He had never forgotten his father's words for a single moment. In all matters regarding Mo Xi, he had ever been cautious and prudent.
But Mo Xi had still ended up on the opposing side.
Mo Xi spoke, voice resounding through the hall. "Your Imperial Majesty, he's done so much for you, yet you insist on hiding the truth?!"
For a moment, Zhuque Hall was terrifyingly quiet. The twisting jiao dragons carved onto the roof beams seemed to come alive, staring with sharp claws outstretched at the confrontation below.
After a lengthy silence, the emperor spoke. He could no longer evade nor conceal the truth. He looked up and asked softly, "…And if I do?"