Chapter 137: Return
"Head back," Wei Xiren ordered, suppressing the grief in her heart; as she was about to rise, Xie Qianbing, chained and in her embrace, shifted. She reached out, about to grab the short dao at Wei Xiren's waist, and Qi Shou'an, who'd been watching the entire time, startled, rushing to stop her, but Wei Xiren's gaze halted her.
The dao fell to the ground with a clang, and a wan, shaking hand reached out towards it. Xie Qianbing had held a brush for many years, and a layer of callouses had arisen on her fingers from the brush's handle. The typically easy, effortless motion in this moment took a long, long time for Xie Qianbing to complete. Her hand trembled the entire time, as if she were fighting with something.
Finally, she grasped the short dao, bringing its blade to the nape of her own neck. Wei Xiren finally saw something, and, in a rush, cupped her cheek. "You're still awake, aren't you? Can you hear what I'm saying?"
Xie Qianbing didn't respond, using the blade to slice through the dark red sigil on the nape of her neck. Fresh, red blood dripped from it, and the clarity in those dead grey pupils increased.
"Help…me…"
Her hoarse voice shocked everyone into retreating half a step; only Wei Xiren remained in place. Suddenly, hope appeared in her eyes, but she stopped Xie Qianbing's dao-bearing hand.
"You'll die," she said, trying to wrest the short dao from Xie Qianbing's hand, "come back to camp with me, and we'll think of another way."
However, during the struggle, the blade cut in a bit deeper, and the fresh blood bubbled out, overflowing from Wei Xiren's palm and seeping into the dry desert sand.
Xie Qianbing's gaze grew clearer and clearer, and her speech grew more fluid as well. "I wasn't going to survive anyway; cutting out this vile thing, at least I can speak clearly."
At some point, tears had begun to well up in Wei Xiren's eyes, but she insisted, "One of my soldiers lost her ear, but she's still alive; if you come back to camp with me, and send a report back to the capital, there'll definitely be a way."
"There's not enough time." As she spoke, Xiren Qianbing's pupils grew more matte, her expression pained.
Wei Xiren could see the decisiveness in Xie Qianbing's eyes, and in the end, she let her. The blade cut through flesh; when Wei Xiren had first obtained this dao, she'd never imagined it would cut a compatriot's neck.
As if having thrown off some sort of restriction, Xie Qianbing let out a long breath of relief, and the dull grey in her eyes dissipated; if one could ignore the scent of blood all about and her pale lips at the moment, then at this moment, Xie Qianbing was no different from the typical Minister of Revenue she was in the capital.
"Qin Zhixun is a sorcerer; she'd using the living to make puppets—anyone with this sigil drawn on them will become the undead, losing their consciousness, fearing no pain and knowing only to fight. Only once the sigil is entirely cut away will they lose their strength.
"Liang Jiwen has been ensorcelled by her; she listens to her and trusts her…"
Xie Qianbing's voice grew smaller and smaller, and at the end, Wei Xiren had to bring her ear to her mouth in order to hear her clearly.
"The undead have no memories and no feelings; even if they meet their relatives, they won't be merciful. If not for Feng-daozhang's protective talisman, I likely wouldn't have been able to return to consciousness.
"When Qin Zhixun was in the capital, she said that the Regent was her shijie—this news, don't…"
As she spoke, fine fragments of yellow paper spilled out from the corner of her mouth. As it turned out, during the critical moment, she'd swallowed the protective talisman, and so had been able to be conscious for this period. She raised a hand, grasping Wei Xiren's; she wanted to say more, but she no longer had the strength to do so.
Actually, Xie Qianbing had a lot more she wanted to say—a lot more that she wanted to urge about. She wanted Wei Xiren to apologise to Xu Shuqiao for her; Xu Shuqiao had trusted her and entrusted her younger sister to her, but now, she didn't know where Xu Shuyi was.
She wanted to tell Wei Xiren that she knew that she was Song Juguang's former subordinate, but she knew that she was from the Great Li, that she hated Shejin, but regardless of whether it was because she hated Shejin or for the Great Li, this information had to be kept from Song Juguang.
She wanted to apologise to Chen Xun and Feng Puzhi; they'd tried to stop her, but she'd not paid it any mind, and in the end, it was because of Feng Puzhi's protective talisman that she'd been able to become conscious.
She wanted to see He Leyong, and tell her that her student hadn't been filial; that she'd said she would provide for her in her old age, but in the end, she was the one who was leaving before her.
When Xie Qianbing had left the capital, she'd never imagined that she'd remain forever in the desert of the Western border, with some things that she urgently needed to do left undone, and not having been handed over to another. However, things she'd never imagined had become reality, and she could only regret that she hadn't entrusted She Qiang with everything, regret that she'd not taken out some more of her money and left it at her residence, and regret that she hadn't made more preparations.
But she didn't regret that she'd requested the order to go to Shejin as Envoy.
Xie Qianbing felt her body grow heavier and heavier, and even her hands lost their strength; she gathered up all her might and managed only, "Your majesty…this minister was incapable…and couldn't…"
Her words unfinished, she lost her voice forever. Wei Xiren looked at the entirely limp person in her embrace, the tears in her eyes blown dry by the desert winds. Carrying Xie Qianbing, she stood, intending to take her back, but then she saw the small, Heart-Guarding Mirror slip out from Xie Qianbing's breast.
It was the one she'd said she'd wanted to give to her when she'd left.
"Carry my order," Wei Xiren bent to pick up the Heart-Guarding Mirror, her voice hoarse when she spoke, "choose two of the fastest runners and have them make haste to deliver an urgent report to the capital; the rest of you, prepare for imminent battle."
"Understood!"
On the verge of twilight, half the horizon was painted blood red by the sun; Wei Xiren, in her tent in the camp, stroked the brush in her hand, her hand hanging in midair for half an incense's time. Only once the ink had begun to dry did she bring her brush to paper. "My enlightened majesty…if one day, you order war on Shejin, this subject would be so bold as to request to be the vanguard."
When the courier took the letter container, she heard Wei Xiren add lowly, "You must give it to her majesty personally."
"Understood."
The courier took the letter and rapidly mounted, the flag she carried on her back flapping sharply in the wind. Wei Xiren watched the courier grow distant, her figure turning into a small, black dot in the desert. Then she summoned Qi Shou'an, and said, "Select two hundred light cavalry to change into bandit attire and follow me towards Shejin."
If it were normal, with Qi Shou'an's temperament, she'd most definitely obstruct her, but right now, Qi Shou'an only asked, "Jiangjun, are you sure?"
"Whether or not I'm sure about the result, we'll go see," Wei Xiren said, turning her head to cast a glance at Qi Shou'an, and then, thinking she wasn't at ease, added, "Relax; if her majesty faults anyone, I'll shoulder the blame."
So, under the remnants of the bloody sun, two hundred light cavalry rushed out of the camp, Wei Xiren at the forefront. When her blade sliced through the nape of the first white-eyed "bandit"'s neck and she saw him topple to the ground, Wei Xiren, in a daze, saw the same look as had been in Xie Qianbing's eyes at the end.
When the urgent report reached the capital, it was raining, the raindrops striking against the glazed tiles on the roof of the imperial study, making circle after circle. The tightly closed window swayed under the fierce wind, but the heat in the air couldn't dissipate.
Muffled thunder rumbled across the eaves, and the block of ice placed in the study had already melted by half. The humid, wet air was filled with incense, so stuffy one couldn't breath properly. Jiang Changbai, holding a vermilion brush, was bowed over her desk, while Song Juguang, arms crossed, stood by the door.
She'd heard someone coming.
"Report—!"
The sound of a voice outside cut through the rain, and the courier, carrying a flag, fell to her knees in the rain. Her raincoat couldn't ward off the torrential downpour, and her forehead was covered in water, and her collar had long since been soaked.
From the Western border to the capital typically took a week; she'd needed only three days to make it. In these three days, she'd travelled at haste through day and night, not daring to rest for even a moment. When she burst into the Imperial Palace, her head was already dizzy and her eyes muddled, and she'd relied entirely on these words to continue.
Qing Huai, seeing her, came over, carrying an umbrella, to shelter her from the rain, but even so, when Song Juguang, under the rain, rushed over to the courier's side, she could only grit out, "I need to see her majesty."
It was a pity, though, that once she'd finished speaking, she had no more strength, and she toppled over with a thud on the pale tiles, the letter tube winding up, in the end, in Song Juguang's hand. But even with the force of the rain, the writing on the letter in the tube was clear as anything, without the slightest hint of having bled.
"Your subject Wei Xiren prostrates herself," Song Juguang read slowly, but her gaze unconsciously cast towards the courier who'd been taken by the imperial physician, "on the twenty-third of the seventh month, Xie-daren returned from Shejin, the time from her departure only eight days. When she returned, sorcery had been used on her, and her eyes were white."
Having come to this point, Song Juguang's voice suddenly stopped, and her gaze grew more serious. When she spoke again, her voice was concentrated, and she read until the end. "She died five li from camp."
Jiang Changbai suddenly stood, the chair making an ear-piercing, sharp scrape as it skidded across the floor. In an instant, a bolt of lightning flashed outside the window, illuminating Jiang Changbai's earthen pallor. "You must have misread it, right?"
"Bixia, take a look."
Song Juguang's voice shook faintly as well, and she raised her hand, holding the letter out to Jiang Changbai. When Jiang Changbai grabbed the letter, her sleeve knocked the ink stone over, and ink splashed on the bright yellow skirts of her robes, creeping up her legs along the golden threads.
"Impossible…" Jiang Changbai clutched the edge of the paper tightly, and suddenly and madly shifted to the lamp. "It must have been corrupted by the rain."
In the wet, humid air, the flame of the lamp on the desk flickered and swayed, dim and bright at turns, illuminating Jiang Changbai's face and casting it in darkness in alternating turns of black and white. Tears spilled out of her eyes, splattering on the word "died", the brush marks feathering out in ripples.
Song Juguang reached out to support her, but Jiang Changbai pushed her roughly away. Jiang Changbai stumbled, almost knocking over the curio cabinet on the wall. The black jade paperweight on the desk had been shattered into pieces, and Jiang Changbai continued to mutter, "Impossible."
From the time Xie Qianbing had first been chosen as her study companion and entered Prince Ling's residence, the two had known each other for eighteen years. They'd gone from childhood to the prime of their lives side by side, and even if there'd been the separation of rank between them, Jiang Changbai had always seen Xie Qianbing as a rare, dear friend—to say nothing of the fact that Xie Qianbing was brilliant and brimmed with talent, and was a rare trusted member of the court.
Now, suddenly hearing she'd passed on, Jiang Changbai naturally couldn't believe it.
"Bixia." In the end, Song Juguang supported Jiang Changbai, enclosing Jiang Changbai in her embrace. But when Song Juguang opened her mouth, in the end, she couldn't say any words of comfort. She'd rarely seen Jiang Changbai lose composure like this, and for a moment, she didn't know what to do.
After a few breaths, Jiang Changbai suddenly struggled out of Song Juguang's embrace, crumpling the letter up and tossing it to the side as if venting her emotions. When she spoke, her voice had calmed. "Summon the Minister of War; We intend to dispatch troops."
Comments
Post a Comment