This palace maid was equally as unfamiliar; presumably, she'd stayed the entire time in the palace, and it was only today that she was sent to wait on Lu Pingwan. Hearing this, Jiang Changbai's expression cooled. The two of them, mother and daughter, in the palace absolutely didn't have no relation; even if at the moment, they were Emperor and Dowager Empress, everyone still knew that the true power was held within Song Juguang's hand. Even more, to say nothing of the fact that Lu Pingwan had always had a gentle character, putting together all the circumstances, Jiang Changbai had a very hard time believing the one-sided statement of this palace maid. "Let Us pay respects along with the Empress Dowager." As she spoke, she raised her leg, about to head towards the Cining Palace; that maid hurriedly stepped in front of Jiang Changbai to stop her. "Bixia, if you're to enter, this servant will receive a punishment." The palace maid, when she spoke, w...

Jiang Changbai's gaze also fell onto Song Juguang. Song Juguang, hearing this, laughed lightly, as if liking Jiang Changbai calling out her name intentionally. She didn't at all pay attention to everyone who'd gathered before the Wumen Hall, tilting her head, only Jiang Changbai's reversed figure visible in her eyes. "Naturally, I'll follow what Bixia says." The six short characters delivered the wizened minister's death sentence. Jiang Changbai could vaguely see his posture weaken in a flash, and he knelt on the ground, repeatedly kowtowing. What it was he was repeating in his mouth wasn't audible. Wei Sharen emerged from within the soldiers, and doing so, picked up one of his feet and dragged him outwards. He was clearly a living person, but in her hand, he was like an object, as light as a feather. There were traces of dripping moisture on the hall's ground; no one cared about what it was. The ceremony concluded in silence; all of the minist...

Three drops of the night dew, on tenterhooks, dripped down from the branch; the sleeping fishswayed to and fro five times; Song Shijiu walked seven paces, until only half a shadow's distance remained between her and Li Shiyi, yet still didn't hear her denial. Her entire entrustment, her full heart of affection, her green plum, her bamboo horse, all her dreams of hugging and kissing the mountains and rivers, and her entire unsteady memories, at this moment stood within the curtain of the night, as cold as a pearl of green jade, not having the boldness to deny her own guardedness against her. Song Shijiu gazed at Li Shiyi, her eyes unmoving, her eyelids twitching, then twitching again. She finally understood, when she'd looked at her before, what that vast, boundless sense of emptiness was; it was because she and Li Shiyi had both lived for too long; when the memories crammed full of emotions came thick and fast, the association and affection of the past few months between he...

"Outside the Northwestern Sea, to the north of the Chi River, there is Mount Zhangwei. There is a god, with a human face, a snake's red body, and vertical eyes; when it closes its eyes, it is then dark, and when it opens its eyes, it is then bright. It does not eat, nor sleep, nor breathe, but can visit wind and rain. It is Zhu Jiuyin, known as the Zhu Long." [1] Within the movement of Song Shijiu's wide eyes, Li Shiyi noticed the difference in her; in the past, her open eyes had seemed to be like closed curtains, the thin screen being pulled down with a rustle, eyes which held shyness and carried a smile jumping out, like the cry of an oriole, loudly and suddenly expecting you to look at her. But now, it seemed as if she were using a pair of hands to push a door, her lowered eyelashes arranged in preparation for straightening her cuffs, the gaze fallen to the floor the crack of the door she'd knocked and opened, and only at the end did she push the door wide open...

In the depths of night, the Yangxin Hall [1] was incredibly still. Jiang Changbai availed herself of the dusky moonlight which seeped through the window to willfully take measure of this place which only the emperor could ever live in, and only felt that in the illusory ambiance of the mind, everything in the surroundings all fluttered, very unreal. In the light of the early morning, in order to survive in this upheaval, she had accomplished her own goal and painstaking scheme; yet at this moment, she simply sat within this room. And that dragon robe [2] she had longed for for who knew how long, simply calmly hung on a frame not far away. What circled through Jiang Changbai's mind was the words of Song Juguang from in broad daylight. "Bixia, it wasn't me who chose you, it was the heavens; from birth, you were meant to be the Great Li's emperor." From birth, you were meant to be the Great Li's emperor. These words, spoken from anyone else's mouth, would ...

As Jiang Changbai spoke, she began to take steps, crossing around the desk and sitting on the chair. Those jade pendants, which symbolised the Jiang family's life, piled up on the desk just like that, and the invisible, untouchable roaming hun spirits floated, unexpectedly faintly separating the two people in the room. "The imperial power is divinely conferred, Guoshi ought to know," Jiang Changbai said indistinctly; yet the story that followed behind these words hadn't come out when she was cut off by Song Juguang. Song Juguang's words unexpectedly had a degree of aggrievement. "Not having met for five years, Dianxia and I actually are unfamiliar; in the past, you even called me A Guang." "A Guang," Jiang Changbai said, perfunctorily; it was clear that she wasn't willing to argue needlessly on the matter of addresses. "The year when the Ancestral Emperor [1] unified the whole of the realm, she led the multitude of officials to Mount...

No rain had fallen on Mount Jinyun; even the wind was under strict control, the sun spreading rays of light evenly over the mountain, as if shining on a rice paddy, shining a rare vitality in the winter day. Li Shiyi tugged Song Shijiu's hand, walking upwards; behind her followed A Luo and A Yin. The small path on the mountain still had some mud, the fresh soil muddying the soles of their shoes; Song Shijiu looked at the path with a lowered head, one hand holding up the skirts of her crescent moon-coloured qipao, her deep black wool overcoat piled with a circle of cozy racoon dog fur, tickling as it brushed her sharp chin. She inclined her eyes once more to look at Li Shiyi; she wore a long cotton coat, with wide sleeves and a high collar, which made her clear, aloof features appear as bright as if they'd been washed in water; her crow-black hair was braided from the top of her head like a fishtail, brought together in a loose tail, swept to one side, laying on her chest, becom...