THE EMPEROR LED Mo Xi to a back courtyard terrace of Zhuque Hall. A pool of dream-gathering water lay there, which could gather the past into the present and bring it in front of the viewer's eyes.
The emperor stood motionless beside the pool, watching the reflections of himself and Mo Xi within. Then he slowly took that string of bodhi dzi beads off his wrist and passed it through his hands. The bodhi beads had been polished by time; he moved his fingers over each one and stopped at the seventh.
"Mo Xi…we might have chosen to destroy the jade scrolls in the Imperial Censorate, but…" He closed his eyes, wringing his hands. "But, believe us, we never thought of lying to Subject Gu. We've always kept this dzi bead that can clear his name with us. In the event we achieved what we promised during our lifetime, we of course intended to publicly announce his innocence. But, if we were defeated by fate, we would have ensured this dzi bead containing the truth remained on this earth. When the time came, there would be descendants who would reveal that oath on the Golden Terrace to the realm."
The night wind rose, rustling through the leaves of the parasol trees at the pool's edge.
"In this way, under the Nine Springs, we would at last be worthy of seeing our loyal subject again."
As he spoke, he tapped that dzi bead with a fingertip. The bead shone with dazzling light as a wisp of silver-white memory floated from it and fell into the Dream-Transfiguring Pool. The water rippled, shattering the frosty moonlit reflection as a cold mist rose from its surface.
The mist coalesced into a vision. Faint sounds emanated from the depths of the fog; gradually, they became crystal clear. A brothel echoing with the voices of women unfolded before their eyes.
"The fragrance of blackberry rose on the wind, cuckoo song and red flowers filling the trees. An empty happiness, only wishing the one I long for thinks the same." The sound of the paired-stanza water fairy music came hazily from the stage in the brothel, the songstress's tremulous voice drifting through the pleasure house like a floating skein of silk.
"The hazy shadow of flowers at dusk. The daylily flourishes without mercy, the pomegranate blossoms deepen yearning. Heavy is the ache of farewell."
The fog rising from the pool grew denser, enclosing the entirety of the terrace at the back of Zhuque Hall in a sensual illusion.
Apricot Mansion.
Mo Xi and the emperor stood amid that thick fog. Slowly, the scene came into focus. Mo Xi saw once more that night from eight years ago he had seen in the Time Mirror, the eve of Gu Mang's defection. In a side room of the brothel, Gu Mang was speaking with that mysterious black-garbed man.
He hadn't known who the black-garbed man was back then. In hindsight, it seemed it was none other than the emperor himself.
The emperor walked to Mo Xi's side, eyes on that black-garbed man who had materialized from the mist. "This was the last meeting we had with Subject Gu before his defection. At the time, he knew he was soon to leave. He was distraught, so we agreed to come find him that day at midnight to take him to see something on Warrior Soul Mountain."
The conversation they watched was identical to the one in the Time Mirror. In the illusory realm, the black-robed emperor pushed a bundle toward Gu Mang and set it on the table. "I brought this for you. You should change into it."
Gu Mang's actions were exactly the same. He lifted a hand, turning down a corner of the cloth only to quickly wrap it back up. "What do you mean by this?"
"If you're going there, you'd best prepare, hadn't you?" The emperor said, "If I tell you what's there, I doubt you'll believe it. Tonight, I'll take you there in person, so you can see the truth with your own eyes."
The scene around them darkened. When it lit up once more, the thick fog around them had become the foot of Warrior Soul Mountain.
Both Gu Mang and the emperor wore black hooded capes, thoroughly covered from head to toe.
When Gu Mang reached the start of the curved footpath, he looked at the little cobblestone road snaking upward and lowered his hood, gazing at that lofty mountain path.
"Are you not going?" asked the emperor.
"Just thinking about how I'll be leaving soon, and my hands will be stained with the blood of Chonghua's soldiers. I…"
The emperor cut him off. "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."
Seeing Gu Mang about to protest, he continued. "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."
Gu Mang said nothing.
"It's come to this," the emperor said. "The pieces are already in place for your treason; this move cannot be taken back."
He lifted a hand in the cold mist, taking hold of Gu Mang's icy fingers. Gu Mang turned to look at him in surprise, twitching slightly as if he wanted to break free. But in the end, he did not.
Mo Xi watched it all unfold in front of him. The first time he'd seen this piece of the past in the Time Mirror, he thought this blackgarbed man was a Liao Kingdom agent, and that Gu Mang's trembling upon having his hand caught was from hesitation and indecision. Knowing the truth, his emotions were incredibly complicated. The first coherent sentence that came to mind was: "Were they cold?"
The emperor, standing at his side, was taken aback. "What?"
"His hands," Mo Xi whispered. "Were they very cold?"
This was something that had happened eight years in the past. No one would remember such details for that long. But after a moment of blankness, the emperor understood. He lowered his lashes. "…Yes."
Mo Xi didn't reply.
"I'm sorry, we pushed him onto this road of despair."
Mo Xi made no sound as the emperor in the illusion repeated just what he'd said in the Time Mirror. "General Gu, none who seek to blaze a new path have hands unsullied by blood. Before you have a single innocent life on your hands, you should walk up Warrior Soul Mountain one more time. You won't have the chance to do so in the future."
Gu Mang closed his eyes. The night wind tousled the wisps of hair at his temples. It was a long time before he gently pulled his hand from between the emperor's palms. His fingertips still tremored; no one could warm those hands of his. "Let's go."
In the Time Mirror, this was as far as Mo Xi had seen. But this vision was different. This time, dense fog unfurled, and he finally beheld what Gu Mang and the emperor had gone to Warrior Soul Mountain to see—
The emperor and Gu Mang arrived before the barrier that guarded the forbidden area of Warrior Soul Mountain. Raising a hand, the emperor cut his own palm, smearing fresh blood onto the array. The blood was instantly absorbed by the magical barrier, and a voice seemed to rumble out from the depths of the earth. "Courageous achievements immortalized in stone."
The emperor answered, "Graves of commoner heroes carved with names."
Courageous achievements immortalized in stone, graves of commoner heroes carved with names.
This simple paired verse was the dream Gu Mang had held dear all his life. As soon as he heard this reply, the rims of Gu Mang's eyes reddened. The emperor, taking note, sighed and patted Gu Mang on the shoulder. "There's no one else here," he said softly. "You may take off your cloak."
Gu Mang unfastened the ties and let the cloak fall. Beneath was a set of white military mourning robes, trimmed in black.
"Let's go."
They passed through the barrier and entered the forbidden area of Warrior Soul Mountain. Mo Xi already had an inkling of what awaited them and thought himself ready. But when he laid eyes on the scene within, he felt his heart had been struck a heavy blow.
The entire forbidden area of Warrior Soul Mountain, fully half of the slope, was covered in neat rows of gravestones. Of those plaques, some were already carved with names, traced over with fine golden lacquer, while some were still blank. Seeing the vast expanse of them grouped together, it was as if those common-born heroes' souls had returned from the underworld, crowding around the peak in a noisy bustle.
Gu Mang stood stunned for a long interval. Then, as though afraid of shattering this beautiful dream, he took a few careful steps forward. Slowly, his cautious movements became staggering stumbles, and he lurched forward, ever closer. By the time he saw the engraved words on the first tombstone, tears had overspilled the rims of his eyes.
He reached out, caressing the gleaming gold inscription on the stone, tears flowing freely. "You've come home…" Choked sobs escaped his throat as he knelt. In grief, he huddled in front of that incomplete field of tombstones, kowtowing again and again to those seventy thousand comrades he left behind at Phoenix Cry Mountain. "You've come home…"
The emperor stood at his side. After a long while, he put a hand on Gu Mang's shoulder. "This forbidden area is the first promise we've fulfilled for you. Seventy thousand tombstones, each with names carved by our own hand, each gravestone personally erected. General Gu, it is our belief that, should we see through the plan you've made with us, there will come a day when the forbidden area of Warrior Soul Mountain will no longer be off-limits."
Gu Mang made no sound. Attired in formal military mourning dress and with white hemp binding his hair, he wept, kowtowing again and again. He saw no living people; his vision was filled only with those deceased and long-gone brothers.
The emperor didn't disturb him; he kept Gu Mang silent company as he watched from the side.
Eventually, Gu Mang staggered to his feet. He pressed his palms together, praying a few more times before the graves with his hands to his forehead, mumbling in a low voice.
"Is there anything else you want us to do?" the emperor asked.
Gu Mang closed his eyes. When he spoke, his eyes were damp. "If it's not too bold… I…have three things I'd like to ask Your Imperial Majesty to grant."
"Speak."
Gu Mang ran his fingers over the golden text on one of the gravestones, tracing the characters from top to bottom.
"For the first: if I'm really unable to return… I ask Your Imperial Majesty not to erect a tomb or gravestone for me on Warrior Soul Mountain. When I leave for the Liao Kingdom, I become a spy. I will inevitably stain my hands with the blood of my comrades. Even if I had no choice, even if I had a secret reason, those whose lives I take will still die by my hand. I have no right to be buried with them."
The emperor seemed uneasy. "But—"
"I ask you to hear me out. For the second request… Xihe-jun's character is pure and kind; he's a noble of great merit, yet he shares a deep friendship with me and has offended countless ancestral patriarchs on my behalf. When I defect, he is bound to disbelieve it; he may even take extremely disobedient and unfilial actions. I ask Your Imperial Majesty to keep the truth from him, no matter what. I ask Your Imperial Majesty to understand his sorrow and refrain from punishing him."
Hearing this, Mo Xi couldn't hold back anymore. Tears poured down his face. He involuntarily stepped forward, eyes fixed on Gu Mang in the illusion, with his proper military uniform and solemn expression. "Gu Mang…" he murmured.
But the illusion of Gu Mang from eight years ago couldn't hear him. He stood in the chilly mountain air, his sleeves fluttering. He was not going to meet his death—rather, he was going beyond death, and right now, he was methodically briefing the emperor on his last wishes.
"The third thing," Gu Mang began, and then fell silent. He lowered his lashes and looked at his hands. After some time, he whispered, "The third thing. I want to play the soul-calling song for them, while my hands are still clean. But, Your Imperial Majesty, I only have a paltry little suona. May I borrow your holy weapon?"
He raised his head, the crisp wind stirring the hair by his temples. Under the moonlight, he looked imploringly at the emperor.
When Chonghua's soul-calling song was performed for martyred heroes, a ceremonial official customarily played it on their holy weapon. Gu Mang couldn't hope for a ceremonial official to come console his brothers. He could only ask for recognition from this man in front of him.
"With your devotion, what would we refuse you?" A jade-green bamboo xiao appeared in the emperor's hands. He handed the flute to Gu Mang.
Gu Mang thanked him, taking the xiao reverently with both hands. He raised his chin and gazed forward, as if to carve all of the seventy thousand gravestones on Warrior Soul Mountain into his heart. Under the light of the bright moon and the shadows of the pines, he pressed the bamboo xiao to his lips and closed his eyes.
"Our sons went forth with swords held brave, their blood and bones in distant grave. Last year this self was yet intact, last night this body spoke and laughed. Your loyalty I safely keep, your valiant deeds I freely speak. For when these heroes' souls come home, throughout the land shall peace be known…"
The song came to an end.
When Gu Mang lowered the xiao, his eyes brimmed with tears.
He turned to restore the instrument to the emperor, then knelt once more before the forest of graves. After a few moments of silence, he lowered his head, his voice small. "Your Imperial Majesty, I'm leaving soon. I don't know when I'll be back, if ever."
"Subject Gu…"
"When I'm gone, I ask you to visit them often on my behalf… No need to burn too much gilt paper money… Just…just bring some jugs of good wine, a few different dishes." By the end, his voice was a tearful whisper. "When they were with me, the military rations were never enough. They would look at the rations for the other armies, and often they would joke with me, and tell me…" He pressed his forehead to the icy stone plaque, tears falling like beads off a broken string. "Tell me they were hungry… That they wanted a proper meal."
The emperor said nothing.
"All these years, I heard all of it, even if I never said anything. There were always those who said we wanted to seize power…that we wanted to revolt… called us insatiably greedy and wildly ambitious…" Gu Mang slowly tilted his head back. "But Your Imperial Majesty, did you know? Their greatest, wildest ambition…was actually just to eat a filling meal…"
The emperor in the illusion wore a mask. No one knew what his expression was on hearing these words. But Mo Xi could see that, despite how many years had passed, when the present emperor beside him heard Gu Mang say this once more, his expression was dull with pain.
"Come visit them on my behalf, would you? Bring them some more army rations."
"Subject Gu…rest assured, we will do as you ask."
"Could there be wine, too?"
"We'll bring the finest wine in Chonghua for your men."
"Shaodaozi is good enough, they're used to being poor. They wouldn't have the heart to drink expensive wine."
"Shaodaozi then."
Gu Mang no longer had any requests. He knelt on the mountain, tilting his head to gaze at the plaques his brothers had become. He didn't move for a long time.
The emperor in the illusion sighed softly and raised a hand. Yet instead of dispersing the jade bamboo xiao, he pressed it to his own lips and played the soul-calling song again.
The notes of the flute echoed under the pale moonlight, carried on the crisp breeze. To the sound of this mournful tune, the surrounds of Warrior Soul Mountain disappeared. The illusory fog and the scene it showed dispersed, but the moving song of the xiao seemed to pass through illusion into reality and resonate from the foothills of Warrior Soul Mountain eight years ago. The mist scattered, yet the notes lingered in echoes.
A long moment passed back on Zhuque Terrace. Eventually, the emperor replaced that dzi bead and gazed up at the pristine moon peeking from the clouds. "Fireball," he murmured. "These eight years, we've worn this bracelet at all times, guarding this secret. Whenever we could bear it no longer, we transfigured this section of memory and watched it over again. Every time, we would remember once more that we did not walk this path alone, that we carried the hopes of more than just ourselves. It's been eight years. Every day and every night, we never forgot; we did not dare to forget."
The emperor caressed the dzi beads on his wrist, voice a murmur. "We don't have a heart of stone. It's only that…sitting on high is like being held in a cage…" By the end, his voice was tearful. "In all honesty, has there ever been a moment we did not feel shame for our treatment of Subject Gu…and of you…?"
Neither spoke. The birds and the cicadas in the ancient trees by the pavilion sang in the night. On the terrace of Zhuque Hall, Mo Xi and the emperor gazed at each other in silence, both grieving, eyes wet.