Volume II, Big Summer Dynasty, Chapter 42: Divide into mud
"Mother?"
The young boy suddenly turned, his eyes drawn to the tall horse and the beautiful woman astride it. The north wind swept across the land, and the sky began to snow, flakes fluttering down like scattered cotton. The woman arrived like flowing water, her white sleeves billowing like clouds. Her long black hair, tied neatly behind her, shone like satin with the deep hue of Huai Song ink. Though she was nearly forty, her makeup was youthful, her gentle eyes calm and serene. She resembled a snow-capped mountain at the onset of spring. Even the crow's feet near her eyes seemed soft and peaceful.
The woman dismounted gracefully and approached Yan Xun. The guards flanking the platform stood frozen, no one daring to block her. She cradled Yan Xun's head and gently wiped the blood from his face with her white sleeve. With a soft smile, she murmured, "Xuner, my child."
Yan Xun's tears fell immediately. The once stern and stoic young man, with his handsome brow furrowed, now wept openly. He clutched his mother's sleeve, shouting, "Mother, why? What happened?"
"Xuner," the woman softly replied as she continued to clean the blood from his eyes. "Do you believe in your father?"
Yan Xun choked back a sob and nodded. "I believe."
"Then don't ask why," she said, holding him tightly. Her gaze swept over the nobles gathered on the platform. Her voice was soft but steady. "In this world, not everything can be explained or reasoned out. Just as tigers eat wolves, wolves eat rabbits, and rabbits eat grass, there is no need for an explanation."
"Yan!" Yan Xun suddenly turned, staring at the nobles in their fine clothes. His voice was cold as he said, "Is it them? Are they responsible for the downfall of Yanbei?"
His eyes, as sharp as ice and snow, pierced through the falling fog. The empire's elite felt a chill run through them. The woman, her gentle smile still in place, wiped away Yan Xun's tears. "Xuner, do not cry. Men of Yanbei would rather bleed than shed tears."
"General Meng Tian," the woman called, her voice unwavering. "I have come to witness the postmortem of my family—my husband, my sons, my daughter. I believe no one is more qualified than I to oversee this matter."
Meng Tian frowned, his eyes dark with turbulence. As he looked at the woman, the memories of the past rushed back to him like a tide. He remembered the early spring, years ago, when he and the world still stood together. Now, he couldn't even say the name of the man who had once been his companion. In Bian Tang's clear waters, the general had met a woman. She had propped up her boat, dressed in green, her trousers rolled up to reveal her white jade legs. She had laughed and called out to the three boys standing by the shore, "Hey, are you three big men coming aboard?"
After thirty years of bloodshed, conspiracy, and countless battles, those three were still together, side by side through thick and thin. But looking back now, could they have ever imagined this day? Had all those battles been fought only for them to turn their swords against one another?
Meng Tian sighed deeply and lowered his head. "You should not have come."
"He said I would be free to visit the emperor," the woman replied, her voice still calm. "As long as I stayed in the city and did not visit my son, no one would block my way. General Meng, this is the emperor's decree. You cannot defy it, no matter your feelings."
The woman's steps were light but heavy with meaning as she walked toward the platform. "Mother!" Yan Xun cried out, attempting to rush forward but collapsing in pain.
Chu Qiao rushed to his side, holding him up with trembling hands. "Are you all right?" she asked anxiously.
The snow and wind intensified, the howling north wind stirring the air. Eyes were fixed on the woman as she ascended the platform, her white dress fluttering like the wings of a bird caught in the storm. She reached the first golden box. Inside, the man's face was stained with blood, but not in a way that made him look terrifying. His eyes were closed as if he were merely asleep. His high nose and tightly pressed lips were peaceful. The woman's hand stroked his face gently.
"This is my husband," she whispered. "Yanbei's hereditary lord, the son of the emperor's twenty-fourth generation. He was the marshal of the empire's northwest army, a noble of Sheng Jin Gong Cheng Guang's ancestral temple, and the lord of Yanbei."
Snowflakes landed on her pale face but did not melt. Her voice was gentle, and her eyes serene, as if expecting her husband to wake. She traced the scar behind his ear, the small mark a memory of a battle long ago.
"Here is where he was struck by a sword in the Cang Lan rebellion. He carried the emperor on his back, cutting through thousands of soldiers, saving the prince who would become the emperor. He was only seventeen."
She turned to the next box, opening it slowly. "This is my son," she continued, her voice breaking slightly. "Yanbei's hereditary sub-lord, the empire's northwest defender. He joined the army at thirteen and was promoted over twenty times. He saved eighteen officials and never lost a battle."
Her voice faltered, tears welling up as she reached the third box. Inside was her daughter's head, pale and swollen. "This is my daughter," the woman whispered. "She was only twenty when she was killed, trying to rescue her abducted mother."
The snow fell heavier, the woman's voice soft but filled with sorrow. The wind howled, and the snow danced in the air like eagles soaring in the storm.
"These are the soldiers of Yanbei," someone shouted from the platform. "They betrayed the empire, and for that, they must be executed!"
Meng Tian frowned as the command was given. "Execution!" he ordered.
Twenty golden boxes were thrown into the bronze tripod, and the flames roared. Yan Xun screamed in anguish, trying to rush forward, but the guards held him back. Chu Qiao clung to him, her own tears falling as she held the broken boy in her arms.
The woman, watching the burning tripod, wiped away her tears. She turned to Meng Tian, her voice soft but clear. "Tell him not to forget what Yan said."
Meng Tian's entire body stiffened, the weight of her words pulling him back thirty years. The man he once knew, the battles they fought, the bond they shared—everything rushed back. His hands trembled as he reached out, but the woman had already turned.
In a swift, sudden motion, she struck her head against the bronze tripod.
"White Sheng!" "Mother!" The crowd screamed in unison, the plaza filled with the sound of anguish.
Meng Tian rushed to her side, cradling her body. "Call the doctor!" he shouted, his voice breaking.
"Mother!" Yan Xun sobbed as he crawled to the platform, collapsing beside his mother.
The heavens seemed to rage, thunder rolling across the sky as the north wind howled. Snow fell heavily, covering the land in a blanket of white. The woman slowly opened her eyes, her smile weak but gentle. "Xuner," she whispered, "live. Live your life and do not forget what you must do."
"Mother!" Yan Xun cried, his tears falling like rain.
The woman's voice became faint, her eyes unfocused. "I always thought my favorite place was Bian Tang's Castle Peak Hill. But now I know... my heart belongs to Yanbei."
And with that, her eyes closed, her hand falling limp.
The young boy beside her clenched his fists, his face pale and bloodless. The cold wind blew, but he stood silently, his eyes fixed on the towering palace. A sharp, burning anger took root in his heart—a seed that would one day grow into a towering tree, nourished by years of pain and vengeance.
In the snow, the death knell sounded, and a black figure slowly walked down the long corridor of the palace, his shadow stretching far behind him.
AC Afterthoughts
This chapter serves as an emotional and pivotal turning point in the story, marking the end of an era for Yan Xun and his family. It is a moment steeped in tragedy and heartbreak, but it also plants the seeds of vengeance and rebellion that will likely shape Yan Xun's future. The reader is drawn into a somber reflection on the fragility of life and the cruelty of political power, as seen through the horrific execution of Yan Xun's family and the emotional devastation he experiences.
The most striking element in this chapter is the contrast between the calm dignity of Yan Xun's mother and the raw, unfiltered grief of her son. Her stoic acceptance of fate, despite the brutal loss of her loved ones, reveals her strength and wisdom. She has lived through years of sacrifice and battle, and though her body is broken, her spirit remains unyielding. In her final moments, she offers Yan Xun the most valuable gift she can—a lesson in endurance. Her death, however, also symbolizes the end of Yanbei's old guard, leaving Yan Xun with the heavy burden of not only avenging his family but also rebuilding what has been lost.
Yan Xun's emotional arc takes center stage in this chapter. He begins with confusion and pain, questioning the unjust world around him, but slowly transitions into someone hardened by suffering. His mother's death breaks something inside him, unleashing a fury that will likely fuel his actions in the chapters to come. His tears, though initially a sign of his youth and vulnerability, soon dry up, replaced by the cold resolve of someone who has lost everything. The young boy who once depended on his mother's strength now faces the daunting task of becoming a leader and avenger.
The use of snow, wind, and darkness as motifs throughout the chapter enhances the atmosphere of cold, relentless sorrow. The snow not only symbolizes the death of warmth and life but also mirrors the isolation and desolation Yan Xun feels. The north wind howling across the land reflects the inner turmoil and fury brewing within him. This imagery reinforces the overarching theme of the chapter: that in the harshest, coldest moments of life, one must learn to either break or rise above the devastation.
In terms of pacing, the chapter masterfully balances intense emotional moments with descriptive, almost poetic interludes. The detailed descriptions of the bodies of Yan Xun's family members, their noble histories, and the sacrifices they made for their country serve to deepen the emotional weight of their deaths. Each family member's story adds layers of history and context to the unfolding events, making their loss all the more poignant.
The arrival of General Meng Tian adds complexity to the narrative, showing the conflicted emotions of those who once stood with the Yan family. His reluctance to follow through with the execution order hints at the moral grayness of the situation, suggesting that even the most powerful figures in the empire are not immune to regret and sorrow. His moment of hesitation, and the respect he shows to the woman who once fought alongside him, serves as a brief but significant reminder that loyalty, honor, and friendship can be easily shattered in the brutal world of politics.
Lastly, the final moments of the chapter, with the woman's sudden, tragic death, leave a lasting impact. Her decision to strike her head against the bronze tripod is not just an act of defiance but also a statement of her agency, even in the face of overwhelming power. Her death is not merely a loss—it is a declaration of finality, one that pushes Yan Xun further into the abyss of vengeance. The chapter ends with a powerful sense of inevitability: that Yan Xun's path is now set, and there is no turning back.
Overall, this chapter expertly combines deep emotional storytelling with rich historical context, laying the groundwork for the inevitable transformation of Yan Xun from a grieving boy to a driven leader bent on justice—or revenge. It leaves readers with a profound sense of loss but also anticipation for what comes next, as the forces that shaped Yanbei's past will now reshape its future.