Empress Shu Zhen was overwhelmed seeing her own son at this moment.
"Weiji," she whispered, her voice catching just slightly, betraying the depth of her emotion.
He bowed deeply, though his heart ached to close the distance in a simple embrace. "Mother," he said, his tone firm but gentle. "It has been too long."
Her hands trembled slightly as they rested on his shoulders, feeling the strength that had carried him through the countless battles. "Too long," she agreed, her eyes glimmering with both pride and sorrow. "You have grown into the man I always knew you would be my son. Even the court cannot contain you, it seems."
Weiji allowed a rare softness in his gaze. "The court weighs heavily, but the borders demand more of me. I serve where I am needed most."
She nodded, understanding fully. "And ofcourse, you chose your own path, even when it meant declining the throne. Courage and honour—both. My son, my heart swells with pride."
They stood in silence for a few moments, letting unspoken words pass between them, memories of a shared past bridging the years apart. The wind whispered through the garden, as if carrying the approval of ancestors who had shaped the Tang dynasty.
The Childhood Friend:
From the edge of the garden, a familiar laugh drifted like a melody from the past. Weiji turned to see her, it was Mengyao, his childhood friend. Her presence was as gentle as the morning sun, yet her eyes held curiosity, mischief, and a quiet intelligence he had long admired. She had grown into a young woman of grace and warmth, yet the years had not softened the strength that lay beneath her delicate frame.
"General Weiji," she said, teasing lightly, though her voice betrayed relief and affection. "You return like a storm and yet move with the calm of a river."
Weiji allowed a small smile. "Mengyao," he replied, "I never expected to see you here"
She stepped closer, her gaze flicking to the faint scars that traced his Armor, to the weight in his eyes. "I heard of your deeds. Of course, the rumours could never capture your presence fully."
He shook his head. "Rumours never do. They miss the truth behind the actions, the cost of duty."
Her eyes softened. "And yet, I am glad you are here, even if only for a moment. The palace has changed, but your spirit remains the same as when we were children. I guess you will never change ever"
Weiji's heart tightened slightly. There was comfort in her presence, a reminder of simpler days before crowns, battles, and plots. And though the path ahead demanded focus, he could not ignore the quiet warmth of familiarity and friendship she brought, even amid chaos.
"I wish for you to Stay safe," he said finally, the words carrying both command and unspoken emotion. "I may leave for the borders soon."
She nodded, understanding, yet unwilling to let go entirely. "I will pray for your safety, as I have always done before."
After the coronation, Meiying, the concubine and her son were not pleased at all, they started plotting, Meiying paused in a dark alcove, glancing toward the sunlit windows of the throne hall where courtiers still lingered, murmuring about the coronation. Her lips curved into a cold, calculated smile. "We must do something about this, the moment Weiji departs for the northern borders," she whispered, "he will be vulnerable. The forests, the mountains, it will be a perfect place for an ambush." Her voice held a sharp edge; the thrill of plotting mingled with the quiet patience of a predator.
The prince, Meiying's son Jian, still flushed from the ceremony and the disappointment of not being named crown prince as he thought he deserved, leaned closer. "And if he resists and survives, then what will happen?" he asked, his tone trembling between fear and ambition.
Meiying's eyes glittered with icy resolve. "Then we strike harder. The man may be strong, but even the strongest can be undone by poison, deception, and timing. Once he is gone, the court will have no choice but to accept your ascendancy. Ministers who once whispered for him will bow to your mother's guidance—and yours, if you play your part well."
Her son swallowed, imagining the scenes she painted: the feared general, Weiji, brought low, his troops scattered, his influence erased. He could feel the intoxicating thrill of power, the taste of victory already warm on his tongue. "And the young prince, what will we do about him?" he asked, a shadow of doubt lingering in his voice.
Meiying's expression softened for a fraction of a second, a mask of tenderness designed to manipulate, before hardening again. "He is young and impressionable. Fear and guidance will bend him. Remove Weiji, and the path is clear. The young prince, He will do as we wish, not because of love, but because he will have no choice but to rely on us."
They paused at a balcony overlooking the city, the streets alive with the distant murmur of merchants and courtiers. To anyone watching, they were a mother and son in a quiet conversation, perhaps plotting the next move in courtly politics. But beneath the surface, a storm brewed—one that would strike first at Weiji, the general whose loyalty to the Tang dynasty and refusal to accept the crown made him the single greatest threat to their ambition.
Meiying's hand rested briefly on her son's shoulder, a gesture both intimate and manipulative. "Remember," she said, her voice low and deliberate, "he must fall before he reaches the borders. Timing is everything. One misstep, and our plan unravels. But succeed, and the throne will be ours, and the dynasty will bend to our will through you, my son."
Her son nodded, the gleam of ambition reflected in his eyes. They lingered there a moment longer, watching the sun glint off the palace roofs, their minds filled with visions of conquest and control.
Night fell, after a long time Weiji spent a night in his old room that was well prepared by the servants, old memories flicked back of when he was still a child growing up, he could still see himself running around and his mother and servants chasing after him, while he is still deep in those thoughts, in the shadows emerged his younger brother Ming who is now a crown prince, "long time no see brother" said the new crown prince Ming, Weiji was happy to see his younger brother, "my crown prince, how have you been all these years, the last time we saw each other, you were young brother but now you carry the weight of the entire kingdom, you have really grown younger brother". Ming laughed at the words of Weiji and said, "yes brother, little ming has grown up now, but still, I cannot match brothers' greatness, you are the backbone of Tang, the greatest of them all". they had a heart to heart conversation, their conversation were in riddles but Weiji could see the distain in his brother's eyes, he wasn't happy that the emperor made him the second choice when choosing the future heir to the throne of Tang, he said " I am only remembered, when needed to substitute" through his all talk, weiji could see that his brother harbours resentment towards him but he never intended to correct anything. He just smiled at the thought of his brother hating him. The y both sat next to each other and drank wine while watching the stars through the window, when suddenly Ming said goodbye "its late now brother, you should rest, you have a very long journey tomorrow, let me not be the reason for your delay". they gave each other bows and ming left weiji to rest the night.
Dawn broke over the Tang capital, spilling molten gold across the palace towers and the wide courtyards. Mist curled along the stone paths, carrying the scent of incense, pine, and distant river. Soldiers lined the way, their armour glinting, their weapons poised, forming a living tribute to the empire and to the general who had defended it.
Weiji approached his mother, Empress Shu Zhen, who stood near the veranda, her hands folded with quiet strength. Her eyes, deep pools of love and worry, met his. He dismounted, kneeling briefly in reverence—not out of ceremony, but as a gesture of affection. "Mother," he said softly, voice measured yet warm, "I shall return now."
Shu Zhen's hands rose to his shoulders, holding him for a heartbeat longer than the world allowed. "Go carefully, my son," she whispered. "Carry the dynasty in your heart and come back safely." Her eyes shimmered with tears, yet her voice remained steady, a lifeline in the tide of duty and uncertainty.
Weiji mounted his horse without turning to his father. King Guanyu, standing farther along the veranda, watched silently. His robes swayed in the breeze, but his hands gripped the carved railing as though the strength of stone could anchor the storm in his chest. Pride warred with sorrow; hope tangled with regret. Years of training, guidance, and tension condensed into this single, unspoken moment. His son rode away without a word to him, and yet the king understood—this was the way of a warrior, a protector of the Tang dynasty.
Shu Zhen stepped closer to her husband, resting a gentle hand on his arm. "Do not dwell on his silence," she murmured. "He carries loyalty and love in his heart in the only way he knows. One day, he will forgive, forget and the bond between father and son will shine brighter than ever."
King Guanyu exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for a moment. "I hope it is soon," he whispered, the wind carrying his words toward the departing troops.
The king and his empress stood there near the veranda watching the troops and their son weiji as they turned their backs to learn the state to go to the borders, they worried of when they will see their son again, as they saw him now after a long time of separation thanks to the coronation ceremony, now there was no more ceremony that can compel him to come back home.