MO XI RETURNED to his manor, where he stayed in seclusion for three days. The capital buzzed with curiosity about what had transpired. What had taken place when Mo Xi went to the palace such that the emperor did not punish his great offense? After everything, he was merely placed under house arrest for a handful of days, and that was the end of it.
No one could know the truth.
In those three days, Jiang Fuli never once left Xihe Manor. Gu Mang's injuries were too severe. He sent everyone away to treat him; no one was allowed near the patient's room.
On the third day, sunlight streamed through the window lattice. Time passed, and ink-dark shadows flowed across the floor. Mo Xi sat at his sandalwood desk, looking at the stack of letters in front of him.
He had already flipped through and reread these letters countless times in the past few days. They were the intelligence reports Gu Mang had sent the emperor from the Liao Kingdom during the years he had been gone from Chonghua. The emperor had kept them in the qiankun pouch he carried on his person all this time.
Five years' worth of reports, a thick stack. The earliest letters were smudged and faded, and even the latest had begun to yellow at the edges. The only thing that hadn't changed was the handwriting. Mo Xi couldn't be more familiar with those characters; the penmanship was slightly slanted and messy, the ends of certain strokes distinctively curled.
Your Imperial Majesty, I've entered the Liao Kingdom. The guoshi of Liao was very wary and caused some slight difficulty. Everything has been settled, no need to worry. Wishing Your Imperial Majesty well.
And another:
Your Imperial Majesty, Liao plans to attack Lan City at the northern frontier after the fall harvest. There are many civilians in Lan City; I ask Your Imperial Majesty to have sympathy for the people and prepare in advance.
And another:
Your Imperial Majesty, I am stationed with the Liao Kingdom army at Mount Tiandang. As a general of Liao, I cannot avoid killing on the battlefield. In seven days, in the attack on Lan City, I will have no choice but to face my comrades, the soldiers of Chonghua. For this, I beg forgiveness on my knees.
There was even the missive Gu Mang sent to the emperor after the battle of Dongting Lake. The handwriting on that note was messier than on any previous letter. The brushstrokes seemed to shake, as if Gu Mang was so distraught while writing he couldn't calm down to pen each stroke properly. The anxiety he felt was palpable in the form of the words themselves—
I had no choice but to stab him in the heart—General Mo is far too naive and stubborn. I sincerely hope Your Imperial Majesty will take attentive care of him. I have one more request: General Mo and I share a deep brotherhood, and I'm afraid I can never again face General Mo in battle…
Every time Mo Xi read to this point, he couldn't help but imagine how Gu Mang must have felt writing this letter. And every time, it hurt too, too much; once he thought it, he couldn't console himself.
Other than updates on the Liao Kingdom's military and reports of their black magic techniques, what Mo Xi saw most as he flipped through the letters were Gu Mang's accounts after each battle, of how many people he killed and how many cities he destroyed. These were not so much apologies to the emperor as Gu Mang's ledger of the lives he owed.
By the fifth year, Gu Mang had stopped counting. Probably because he, too, had realized: however he calculated or counted, those people were dead by his own hand. There was nothing to salvage. Instead, at the end of every letter, where one would usually sign their name, he would write a line in very small print: The guilty subject Gu Mang kowtows once and once again.
Mo Xi stroked the words curled up in the corner. The guilty subject Gu Mang… His tears fell just like that, dripping onto those shameful and guilt-ridden words.
He flipped to the last letter.
In this final missive, Gu Mang wrote a few simple lines of text explaining the reason the emperor must use him for black magic experiments.
When I first entered the Liao Kingdom five years ago, Liao tempered my body, injected wolf blood into my veins, and carved black magic spells into my bones. Throughout these five years, my mind has gradually become chaotic, more and more difficult for me to control. I can guess what the Liao Kingdom will do next: very soon, they will break my mind and destroy my memories, then send me back as a peace offering to Chonghua. My life is insignificant and is already soaked in filthy blood. Your Imperial Majesty need not trouble yourself to treat me. If Your Imperial Majesty truly pities the suffering I have endured, I ask you to have me sent to the prison, to be dissected and experimented on, so that methods to counter the Liao Kingdom's black magic path can be found more quickly. With this, my remaining wishes shall be fulfilled.
At the end of the letter, there was once again that line of small and shameful characters. The guilty subject Gu Mang kowtows once and once again.
The emperor's last words from Zhuque Hall still echoed in his ears. "Fireball, do you know how we felt upon seeing this letter? In the first missive he sent five years ago, he told us the Liao Kingdom had some slight difficulty with him, but everything had been dealt with, and there was no need to worry. It wasn't until five years later— when he realized that the Liao Kingdom would likely dispose of him next—that he revealed the truth. The 'slight difficulty' he spoke of referred to the tempering of his body and the carving of his bones with black magic runes.
"Do you understand now? The Liao Kingdom sent him back because the demonic curse and monstrous blood in Gu Mang's body could no longer be controlled. Even they didn't know what he would become with his mind fully consumed by black magic. Nor did they dare to carelessly kill this mutated, demonic body. So they sent him back to Chonghua."
The emperor paused then, and repeated himself. "Fireball, we had no choice. The black magic trials are cruel, yet this was the only method we could think of to save him. Otherwise, when the day comes that the demonic energy in Gu Mang's body explodes, both Chonghua and Gu Mang will be destroyed…" A sharp knock sounded from the half-closed door. Mo Xi swiftly came to his senses, surfacing from those wretched memories. He wiped away the tear tracks that had not yet dried and tidied up the letters. "Enter."
Li Wei took a few steps inside. In the past few days, he was the only person who could enter this room without being kicked out. "My lord, good news! He's been saved!" he exclaimed.
Mo Xi started, jolting to his feet as if he might run out the door. "He's still sleeping," Li Wei hastily added. "Medicine Master Jiang instructed that he absolutely mustn't be woken up. The medicine master is waiting for you in the back courtyard; he says there is something he must speak to you about."
Jiang Fuli was leaning against a pillar beside the lotus pond in the back courtyard of Xihe Manor. He gazed at the pool full of flourishing, fragrant lotus blossoms, his eyes glimmering with an inscrutable light. Whatever he was pondering seemed to have left him perplexed; his brows were drawn together slightly, his thin lips tightly pursed in thought.
Mo Xi strode down the winding corridor and arrived at his side. "Medicine Master Jiang."
Perhaps he was depleted from three days of healing, or perhaps it was for some other reason that Jiang Fuli showed a rare unresponsiveness. He continued to stare blankly at the fish swimming in the pool.
"Medicine Master Jiang?"
Only upon Mo Xi's second greeting did Jiang Fuli react as if waking from a dream. "Oh, it's you. You're here."
Mo Xi was thinking of nothing but Gu Mang; he took no notice of Jiang Fuli's strange demeanor. "How is my shixiong?"
"There were some slight complications, but you don't need to worry," Jiang Fuli replied. "Sit down, I'll tell you."
Mo Xi was restless, but Jiang Fuli's attitude seemed to say, Iwon't talk unless you sit. He had no other choice; he took a seat across from Jiang Fuli.
"Let me first ask you: before Zhou He began the black magic experiments, had Gu Mang already recovered a majority of his memories?"
He was very straightforward, and so Mo Xi made no attempt to deny it.
"I don't concern myself with the machinations of the court. I won't ask anything more; you can be at ease. I'm only curious—he lost two souls, so it should be impossible for his memories to recover to such an extent. What did you experience on Bat Island? What was it that put him into this state?"
"The Time Mirror," Mo Xi answered.
Jiang Fuli was silent for a beat. "No wonder. Now I understand. I'll explain it this way, Xihe-jun. The Time Mirror can indeed return Gu Mang's mind and memories, but human souls cannot be replaced. What the Time Mirror did was only a flashback, and not a true recovery."
"A flashback…"
"Correct," Jiang Fuli said. "It's like a flash of dying lucidity, it doesn't last long. In another month or two, the memories returned by the Time Mirror will disappear." He paused before continuing. "My apologies. Even I have no way of reversing this."
In truth, Mo Xi had more or less expected this. When the shangao had called the Time Mirror, he had shouted something about "flashing back" Gu Mang's memories. Even back then Mo Xi had been alarmed by the shangao's choice of words, but when he heard this confirmation from Jiang Fuli, his heart still plummeted. He cast his gaze downward. "I understand… Many thanks," he said in a low voice.
"I'm paid to help with such problems, there's no need for thanks. Gu Mang's other injuries won't cause him further trouble. All he needs now is sufficient rest and care. However, there's something I must remind you of." Jiang Fuli's expression became solemn. "His mind absolutely cannot endure another major shock."
Mo Xi's heart seized. He asked, urgent, "He's still unwell?"
"How could he not be?" Jiang Fuli held up three fingers before Mo Xi. "First, he lacks two souls. Second, an ancient godly mirror forcibly returned some of his memories. Third, Zhou He cut into his brain…" He curled a finger with every item he mentioned. "Let me put it like this, Xihe-jun—this Gu-shixiong of yours is extraordinarily strong. If it were anyone else, they would have gone mad from any one of those three." By the time all three fingers were down, even someone as arrogant as Jiang Fuli couldn't help a sigh of admiration. "He went through all that, yet he still didn't lose his sense of self."
A breeze blew over the lotus pool, scudding across the shimmering water. Jiang Fuli turned to gaze at the ripples, speaking softly. "In truth, as a healer, I'm very curious. I can't imagine what kind of mental willpower he must possess to make him so indestructible."
Both men were still for a moment. Jiang Fuli's almond eyes watched the fish in the pond circle each other and disperse. Suddenly, he asked, "Xihe-jun, I have a question for you. Gu Mang was sent to the Liao Kingdom as a spy, wasn't he?"
Looking up, Mo Xi stared at him. Jiang Fuli had used up three days of sheer effort; he was deeply weary, leaning against the pillar for support. He turned his head and squinted at the rippling lotus pool. "Don't worry, I didn't peek at his thoughts while healing him," he said in a leisurely tone. "Considering his mental fortitude, he might not tell me the truth even if I fed him the Draught of Confession. It's just a personal hunch, no more than an offhand question. You don't have to confirm either way."
Mo Xi's throat hurt terribly. After a spell, he said, "Why…why would you think so?"
"It's very simple," Jiang Fuli replied. "A traitor who fell onto a path of vengeful murder merely because he couldn't bear disappointment would not have the kind of willpower he does. I have no evidence, nor do I wish to involve myself in the intrigues of the court, but as a healer, I am certain he isn't a cruel person."
Sunlight filled Jiang Fuli's eyes, smoothing those features that were usually so obstinate and unimpressed by the world. In this light, he looked somewhat melancholy, even gentle.
Mo Xi was struck by a faint sense of déjà vu.
"Take good care of him, Xihe-jun. The state of his mind is perilous, like a cracking sheet of ice. If he should endure a fourth trauma to the mind—" Jiang Fuli paused, tone grave. "He will go mad. At that point, unless you find his two souls, even an immortal from the highest of heavens couldn't save him."
______
In the evening, a crescent moon hung overhead. The canopy of heaven was lustrous with stars, and the Milky Way looked like a soaring dragon, or like a bright sword, glimmering with light as it flowed across the deep blue of the sky.
On this night, many in Chonghua found their minds heavy with the weight of their own difficulties.
In the imperial palace, the emperor lay curled within the soft bed canopies of Zhuque Hall, wrapped in fox fur. His eyes were closed as he caressed the bodhi dzi bead bracelet at his wrist.
In Yue Manor, Murong Chuyi's feet took him to the door of Yue Chenqing's bedroom. After hesitating a long time, he finally lifted a hand and rapped on the wood. He waited without response, then gently pushed the door open. Within, a singular lamp was lit, both the bed and the desk were neat, and Yue Chenqing was nowhere to be found. A servant walking past told him Yue Chenqing had gone to the academy to study with Jiang Yexue. Murong Chuyi did not respond. After a long while, he closed his eyes.
In Medicine Master Manor, Jiang Fuli had announced he must set out on a long journey and was urgently packing his bags. His wife stood by the door as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, she never spoke.
In Wangshu Manor, Murong Lian lay on the bamboo bed in his courtyard, taking long drags of ephemera. Clouds of smoke slowly drifted from his lips and were blown toward the blossoming foxglove trees. Biting his pipe, Murong Lian stretched his hand in front of him and stared vacantly at his own fingers, his gaze flickering.
As for Xihe Manor—
After so many twists and turns and bloody storms, the inhabitants of this manor finally returned to a temporary peace. Gu Mang lay on the spacious bed in the master bedroom, covered with a light blanket, slumbering still. Mo Xi had dismissed the servants, keeping a solitary vigil at his bedside.
He sat patiently, unbothered by Gu Mang's long sleep, or the fact that Gu Mang had taken his bed. After all, he'd once sworn to give Gu Mang those things.
"I promised to give you a home." Mo Xi took hold of his hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it gently. "I'm sorry, Shixiong. I've made you wait too long."
The man on the bed lay obediently, his thick sweep of lashes fanning across his cheeks. He no longer had any need to pretend, endure, or exhaust himself. He looked so weary, so weak. As Mo Xi gazed at the man before him, he could scarcely recall how his Gu Mang-gege used to look—healthy, sturdy, resplendent with sunlight. Time had ravaged him terribly.
Mo Xi lowered his head, burying his face in his hands and pressing his forehead to Gu Mang's slightly cool palm. Quietly, he choked out, "Shixiong, you're home now."
Warm tears streamed down his cheeks, soaking Gu Mang's hand.
As if awakened by that murmur and the passion it entailed, after a few moments, Gu Mang's fingertips twitched. Slowly, he opened his eyes.