SEHE Chapter 157.2

In such a brief exchange, Pei Yanci had already found an opening for a surprise attack. If his strength were fully restored — and if the man beside Cui tonight were not the most formidable fighter among them, Second Young Master Cui— the situation would likely have turned ugly.

“Enough words. Your Highness, let us kill him and be done with it!” the Cui brothers called out.

Pei Yanci gave a bitter smile and lowered his voice. “Tangxi, I never imagined I would die here.”

The attempt at a surprise attack just now had been the last possible opportunity. Having failed to take anyone hostage, there would be no more chances like that.

“Neither did I.”

In the cold glint of swords and blades pressing ever closer, Tangxi Zhui extended his tongue and gently licked the blood and grime from Pei Yanci’s face — like a wild creature grooming its mate, or offering comfort and solace in a wound.

To die here, locked in Pei Yanci’s embrace — there was truly no more romantic way to perish in this world.

Before today, he had never dared imagine that such a beautiful scene would actually come to pass.

“…Could you stop smiling so disgustingly?” Pei Yanci rolled his eyes.

He truly could not bear it.

“My apologies — I couldn’t help myself.” Tangxi Zhui’s face was awash with tender adoration, happiness tugging the corners of his mouth no matter how he tried to press them down, until he had to raise his folding fan to halfheartedly conceal it.

His heart was melting sweet.

To share the same bedchamber in life, to share the same blood in death — even death itself could not separate them.

Truly, for a long, long time, forever without parting.

If only — if only, in this very moment — his Xiao Pei’er could look at him, just once more.

Even as this thought took shape, Pei Yanci truly did lift his gaze and look at him.

A surge of regret welled up in Pei Yanci’s mind.

To die like this — he was not willing.

He was stronger than Gu Jiuqing, stronger than Gu Yisui, stronger than every last one of the Cui family’s ragtag lot, stronger than any person he had ever encountered.

And yet he had never managed to sit upon that seat.

If only he had been allowed to sit on the throne…

No — that wasn’t it. He had always felt that something was still missing.

He looked instinctively toward Tangxi Zhui.

Tangxi Zhui’s heart bloomed and trembled under that gaze; he nearly wished he could drown in those eyes.

A sentence rose up through his mind like a seedling breaking through soil, pressing to be spoken aloud.

“Xiao Pei’er.”

“Did you hear it too?”

“Hm?” Tangxi Zhui hadn’t caught his meaning.

“We’re at death’s door and you’re letting your mind wander?” Pei Yanci looked at him, entirely at a loss, and tightened the grip on his sword. “Let go.”

With that, he pulled free of the embrace, gathered his breath one final time, and charged headlong into the oncoming soldiers.

“Hm — still struggling against the inevitable.” Gu Jiuqing gave a cold laugh.

Second Young Master Cui roared, “Kill this wretched mongrel! Avenge Fourth Brother!”

They had barely exchanged a few dozen blows before the sound of fighting and screams reached them from the distance.

Then a commanding, resonant voice rang out from far away:

“The Northern Yamen Imperial Guards has arrived! Surrender at once, you rebel forces!”

“It’s Gu Wanchong!” Pei Yanci cried out in joy.

Tangxi Zhui’s expression immediately went flat. “…Mm,” he said lightly.

Still back on Zhuque Street, riding hard with a company of Elu Bureau men, Huo Cun suddenly sneezed without warning.

“Who’s cursing me?!” He rubbed at his nose, smearing a whole finger’s worth of face powder across his hand, then pinched his fingers into a dainty orchid shape and screamed in his hoarse, sharp, cracking voice, “Slaughter every last one of those little bastards!”

Inside Xuanwei Palace, the two sides of the imperial guard clashed with each other in full force. In no time at all, the Northern Yamen Imperial Guards broke through the tide of men, and the Southern Yamen’s Imperial Guards scattered in all directions, tossing aside their armor as they fled.

Gu Jiuqing watched this unfolding scene, his face going the color of ash.

Everything he had — it was all dissolving along with that collapsing army.

Power. Rank. Influence. Identity…

With a clang, he dropped the sword from his hand and spread both arms open toward Gu Wanchong, baring himself in surrender and submission.

Seeing that the tide had turned, the Cui family men one by one laid down their weapons as well.

Gu Wanchong’s dark hair streamed out behind him. He held a red-tasseled spear in one hand and his reins in the other; his bay warhorse reared up on its hind legs, and the round moon hung at his back — tracing the lines of his silhouette freely in silver light. His young, resolute face was set hard beneath the jaw as he came thundering forward.

“Shuangchong!” Pei Yanci called out with delight.

Gu Wanchong’s heart, wound tight with fear, did not ease back into his chest until that clear, bright call reached him.

Then it began to beat faster still.

Pei Yanci’s entire face was lit with joy as he reached out both arms toward him.

His little emperor — standing thin and frail among the heaps of bodies, soaked head to toe in blood so thick the color of his robes could no longer be made out. Only that face — radiant as sunlight — was untouched, illuminating the whole dark sky of that night.

For a moment, it was as though he was back in the imperial garden. That person — slowly craning his neck out from behind a thicket of delicate blooms, sneaking glances at him — only to be caught by his eyes, and shyly pulling back. But the movement had been too sudden, and he’d taken a great gust of wind right in the mouth, erupting into one cough after another, covering his lips with his hand but not daring to make a sound, until he was red in the face from holding it all in.

Gu Wanchong swung one long leg over the horse, dismounted, and strode quickly toward him.

Pei Yanci, overcome with emotion, threw his arms around him.

Gu Wanchong held him tightly, feeling the warmth of his body.

In their ears: the trembling, unsteady sound of two people breathing, and the rapid pounding of their hearts.

In the shadows of an unnoticed corner, Tangxi Zhui’s fingers went slack. The ebony folding fan fell from his hand and shattered against the ground, splitting into pieces.

“You came.”

Pei Yanci had thought of the Elu Bureau, had thought of Huo Cun, had even thought of Jiang Yi and Cui Nan and Gu Xing descending from nowhere like soldiers out of the heavens — and had not thought of him.

Between him and Gu Wanchong lay so many misunderstandings and blood feuds not easily wiped away by a few simple words.

“I said I would protect you.”

This was his proudest little emperor.

With great care, Gu Wanchong wiped the blood and sweat from Pei Yanci’s face bit by bit, revealing the pale, almost porcelain-glazed lines of his handsome features.

“Thank heaven you’re unharmed.”

In the mingling of their breath, Pei Yanci’s gaze flickered. He lowered his head, and gently removed himself from Gu Wanchong’s hands.

Gu Wanchong covered his mouth with his fist and coughed twice, awkwardly, and glanced away.

Pei Yanci, steadied now that Gu Wanchong had come to his side, collected himself and turned toward Gu Jiuqing and the Cui brothers being held at sword-point by the surrounding soldiers. He bent down and picked up a blade from the ground.

Gu Jiuqing seemed to sense what was coming. He instinctively tried to take a step back — and was immediately stopped by the sword pressed against his spine from behind.

“Yanci, you wouldn’t really—” His eyes went wide in disbelief, staring at him as a brutal surge of pain at last broke through the icy wall of his expression, twisting his features.

Pei Yanci drove the blade into his stomach without a moment’s hesitation.

That waist, once straight and unbending as bamboo, at last bent.

“Yanci…”

Pei Yanci gently touched the top of his head, as though the gesture might ease some of his pain.

“I don’t have the habit of wasting words on my enemies.”

“Enemies…” he choked.

Pei Yanci drew the blade back out of his stomach, dragging with it a gush of pouring blood.

Gu Jiuqing’s body fell like a willow leaf, and was still.

Pei Yanci carried the blade toward the remaining Cui brothers.

“We have surrendered — you cannot kill us,” Second Young Master Cui said, his face a hard, iron grey.

“And what use would I have for you — to feed you for nothing?” Pei Yanci raised the blade in his hand.

The Cui brothers made to resist. But their weapons had already been confiscated, and the surrounding soldiers surged forward in concert, running them through from every side.

“General Gu.”

“Your subordinate is at your command.” Gu Wanchong cupped his hands in salute.

Pei Yanci looked up at the sky. The full moon had at some point been half-swallowed by dark clouds.

Tonight, he would wash Anjing City in blood.

—-

Gu Jiuqing committed one fatal error: he moved too hastily. Judged by what his original plan had been, he actually stood a very real chance of cutting Pei Yanci down and ascending to the throne as the new emperor. But history’s cruelty lies in the absence of what-ifs.

Based on what can be deduced from historical records: on that day, Pei Yanci’s sudden move against him created the risk of Gu Jiuqing being thrown in prison. In those circumstances, his survival while imprisoned was far from certain — and this was the primary reason he was forced into raising troops before he was ready…

…According to the historical chronicles, Gu Jiuqing made several critical errors. First, he had fabricated a pretext to send the Northern Yamen Imperial Guards away from the palace and placed the Southern Yamen’s Imperial Guards in charge of its defense — something that would easily arouse Gu Wanchong’s suspicion. Second, after leading his forces into the palace, the original plan should have been to encircle a single hall first before moving in to eliminate his targets — as judged by the successful precedents of those who came before him, this would have been far more efficient. But Pei Yanci and Tangxi Zhui had just finished their meal and happened to be coming out as the encirclement plan was prematurely exposed, and the two sides made contact ahead of schedule. What had been intended as catching turtles in a jar became a “parkour chase” across the entire palace. Even so, it is difficult to imagine how two people alone could have held off several hundred palace guards — and yet they did, holding on until Gu Wanchong and Huo Cun arrived with their forces. Furthermore, had Peng Chulang been the one commanding the Southern Yamen’s Imperial Guards that night, the odds would have been at least thirty percent higher — but judging by subsequent events…

From our vantage point as later generations, this plan is riddled with holes, almost improbably contingent and theatrical. Given hindsight, we could find ten thousand ways to improve it. Only the ancestors who lived beneath the moon a thousand years ago could not know what was coming. Every choice they made was the product of a single instant — the difference between life and death — and those choices gave shape to the history of that age, and to the history we carry forward today.

— “A Critical Study of the Political Upheaval at the Juncture of Yu and Tao Dynasties”