Volume III, Real Ancient Capital, Chapter 61: Royal Banquet
The weather is clear and flowers are in full bloom, but by noon, white snow begins to fall. The empire's dignitaries are still captivated by Yan Xun, the world waiting to see him marry the noble Princess Chun. There is endless speculation throughout the Imperial City, as rumors and whispers run rampant within the secret camp.
However, amidst this chaos, no one notices that the Green Army defenders change their posts an hour early, nor do they observe that the Xicheng gates are opened earlier than usual.
Upon receiving this news, Yan Xun is calmly sipping tea in the flower hall, dressed in a light robe, watching everything with pleasure. The gallery's musician is playing "West Ship Night," a tune so melodious that a hundred thousand people would stop to listen.
A faint smile crosses Yan Xun's lips. A'Jing stands beside him, quietly awaiting further instructions, but Yan Xun simply waves him away. He gestures to the music box beside him, ordering it to be thrown out.
The music continues until suddenly the musicians stop playing. The older palace musicians glance at the discarded music box, surprised. In that moment, the air fills with the sudden sound of killing cries, their voices breaking like shattered notes.
Yan Xun laughs heartily, clapping in time with the commotion, and recites aloud: "Drunken by the sword, I slay eight hundred foes. My body, like a tin can, hovers above the battlefield, holding red funeral rites."
Chu Qiao stands outside, her fingers cold. She looks up at the sky, where snow flutters down, and a black hawk circles high above.
How quickly does turmoil arrive? Like autumn fires spreading across the grasslands, it comes swiftly, without mercy.
That afternoon, following the snowstorm, a memorial arrives from the Ministry, informing the Senate that insufficient food and clothing have been provided. The unpaid wages from the birthday banquet had to be used to cover Zhongzhou's disaster relief. Amidst the chaos, many soldiers in the Great Battalion are poisoned, leading to a mutiny in the 41st Army, which leaves over 10,000 dead. Corruption runs deep within the family clans, their pockets full of stolen goods. These shocking details paint a grim picture of the empire.
A storm stirs within the empire as this small note sparks a series of investigations. The Elder's Shrine is in chaos, the military's outrage evident in their letters, their words full of blood and tears. The major clans scramble to protect themselves.
An hour later, a startling conclusion emerges: Zhongzhou's disaster relief, overseen by the capital's officials before Zhao Qi's tenure, has been led by Muhe Xi Feng. The commissariat is found to have been managed by Song Duan, who is closely connected to Muhe Yun, the son of Muhe Pavilion's elder. The capital is now in deficit, with nearly twenty million gold missing from the grain department alone.
At the Elder's Shrine, Muhe Yun kneels before the Emperor, pleading for mercy. He insists the data is false and accuses his enemies of manipulating the records.
Surprisingly, that same night, a secret order is issued to investigate the Muhe Prefecture. The decree is clear: if there is any resistance, kill on the spot.
All of a sudden, the empire trembles.
Zhao Qi leads the Green Camp soldiers to Muhe's mansion, where Yan Xun is hosting a grand banquet. Gifts are presented generously to the dignitaries, while Yan Xun watches in silence.
Sarawak presents Po Lo clothing, world-renowned Su Jin embroidery, depicting fierce pythons and five-clawed dragons, their faces so vivid they appear to come alive. Chu Qiao stands quietly, clutching a golden jade belt, though her breathing grows unsteady.
The room is quiet. The guests have dispersed, leaving Chu Qiao standing alone under the lights. Her slender neck and graceful posture seem fragile yet strong.
Yan Xun exhales softly, asking, "A'Chu, when is your birthday?"
Chu Qiao, adjusting his shoulder strap, replies, "I don't remember."
Yan Xun pauses, surprised. "You're about sixteen, aren't you? Nearly of age for the ceremony."
Chu Qiao shakes her head. "It doesn't matter to me."
Yan Xun seems at a loss for words. Chu Qiao, frowning, focuses on a green map of Qinghai in front of them.
"Take it down, I'll fix the thread," Chu Qiao says.
Yan Xun is stunned. "You can sew?"
She raises an eyebrow, replying, "Who do you think made your clothes when you were young?"
As the smoke from the candle wafts through the room, Yan Xun's thoughts drift back to those cold, snowy nights. He recalls her sewing by the weak candlelight, tired but never complaining. She was the one who cooked for him, sewed for him, stood watch for him. In their darkest days, she was his strength, carrying the weight of their world on her frail shoulders.
Years of suppressing these memories had made him forget how much he relied on her, how much she had sacrificed. She had been his silent support when everything else had crumbled.
"Well," she says, standing up, "try it on."
A sigh escapes from Yan Xun, and he suddenly pulls Chu Qiao into his arms. Resting his chin on her head, he murmurs, "A'Chu."
Chu Qiao stiffens at first, then slowly relaxes, wrapping her arms around his waist. "What's wrong?" she asks softly.
"Don't move," Yan Xun whispers, his voice low and husky. "Just let me hold you for a while."
As they stand there, Yan Xun's voice breaks the silence. "A'Chu, don't hate me."
His voice is filled with sorrow. "I've done many things you don't like. I've made decisions that hurt you. But I don't want to be like I was before—powerless, watching those I care about suffer."
Chu Qiao listens quietly, her heart swelling with a warmth she doesn't fully understand. She doesn't need to say anything; the moment speaks for itself.
Yan Xun releases her gently, nodding as he says, "Be careful."
Chu Qiao nods in return. "Don't worry. I won't attend the banquet with you. Just be cautious."
She turns to leave, but Yan Xun calls after her. "A'Chu."
She stops.
"Anyone can betray me, anyone can leave me—but not you."
She remains silent, then steps out into the snow.
Yan Xun closes his eyes and murmurs to himself, "If you leave, I have nothing."
Snow falls in the shallow court as a woman, draped in a pale gown, holds Yan Xun's white fur fox cloak. Her long hair is lifted slightly by the breeze. She looks back at the silhouette in the window, silently standing there for a long time before moving.
The cold outside is different from the festive warmth inside the Yingge Hospital. The chamber is filled with colorful glass, and jade is placed in front of the guests, who are seated in rows beside the Eight Princess, Zhao Chun, at Duanmu Pavilion. Zhu Jin's shop glows in the snow, and the palace women, adorned in vibrant garments, stand under the colorfully burning lights.
As the festivities began at Duanmu Pavilion, the Emperor himself was present. Guests exchanged greetings and blessings to the sound of music. In the distance, near the curling woods, a solitary figure stood on the road. The woman, cloaked in a military green cloak from the Strong Battalion, sat astride her horse. Her gaze lingered on the glittering lights, her face pale but calm, her demeanor self-sustained.
The night was cold, the wind long and biting. Between heaven and earth, she wandered in solitude, the cold wind brushing her forehead, making her face seem thinner and sadder.
"This road is my choice," she thought. "There is no turning back, only the path forward."
Life has never given me the luxury of regret, and I will not allow useless thoughts to hold me back. The great vengeance remains unfulfilled, and the North remains unpredictable. Why should children think of the personal? Yan Xun, I will stand by you, waiting for the day you conquer the world with your sword. Only the cowardly let their emotions cloud their judgment, but I will not. I will never waver.
From time to time, the huge bells sounded, and fireworks lit up the sky. The lively voices of the celebration echoed from Duanmu Pavilion, marking the solemn moment of joy for the empire.
"Drive!"
The cold air filled her lungs as the thin girl suddenly cracked the whip, urging the warhorse into a gallop. The cold night contrasted sharply with the vibrant celebration in the hall. Swaddled in her cloak, she stood silently, looking at the dark sky for a long time.
In the cold and quiet of the Yingge hospital, a small boudoir stood untouched by time. A snow-white fox lay quietly on the table, its fur dusty yet clean, as if awaiting its owner.
"You and I have shared everything for eight years. Now, it all seems to be coming to an end. When we return to Yanbei, we will..."
We will...
Let's get married. Let's be together. And we will never separate.
But those unspoken words, those unsaid promises, are now buried in the dust of years past. Missed opportunities, like fate, come only once—and if lost, they are gone for many years.
Outside Xiaoqian camp, near the city gate, the girl held the token given to her by the Queen. With it, she passed through the camp, entering the empire's most valiant army without hesitation.
Armor clinked, and military songs filled the air as the army stood before the main tent. A soldier carefully woke the general from his sleep.
Zhao Che, his brow furrowed, coldly said, "Chu Qiao?"
"Let her in!"
The moment his words fell, a burst of fighting and screams echoed from the northwest corner of the city.
Zhao Che was thoroughly startled. He didn't even have time to put on his boots before he ran out of the tent. In the northwest corner of the sky, flames roared, and the sound of chaos filled the air, spreading like a plague. Outside the city, the Green Army swarmed toward Xiaoqidang camp, their armor gleaming and blades cold.
A big event had begun!
Chu Qiao raised her brow, snapping orders: "Let the snow come!"
"Wait!"
Suddenly, a cold voice rang out. Chu Qiao grabbed Zhao Che's wrist, stopping him as he tried to rush out. Calmly, she said, "You cannot go."
There was so much confidence and strength in her voice that Zhao Che hesitated for a moment. Bewildered, he whispered, "Why?"
"Look—whose mansion is that?"
Zhao Che was momentarily surprised, his desperation to leave fading as he realized who she meant. He didn't want to believe it, but the truth was unavoidable.
Muhe's mansion.
"If you go," Chu Qiao said coldly, "the entire Xiaoqingshan camp will be buried for you. I do not want to be implicated on my first day here." She released his wrist gently and added, "Besides, it is too late. The event has already been set in motion. Nothing you do now will change the outcome."
A shock of death struck the west. The whole city was alarmed, but the grand Sanctuary remained immersed in the joy of celebration.
AC Afterthoughts
This chapter paints a vivid picture of political intrigue, personal sacrifice, and emotional complexity. The tension between Yan Xun and Chu Qiao is palpable, rooted in years of shared hardship and unspoken loyalty. While Yan Xun grapples with the weight of his power and the blood on his hands, Chu Qiao stands as a symbol of unwavering strength and quiet resolve. Their relationship, forged in the fires of war and betrayal, is complex—laden with unsaid emotions and unfulfilled promises.
Yan Xun's internal conflict, his need for control, and his deep reliance on Chu Qiao are central themes. The subtle power dynamics between them—Yan Xun's plea for her loyalty and Chu Qiao's unflinching dedication—add layers of depth to their characters.
The political backdrop, with its corruption and chaos, serves as a powerful metaphor for the emotional turmoil within the characters. The empire's instability mirrors the fragile balance in Yan Xun and Chu Qiao's relationship, as both stand on the brink of destruction and transformation.
It illustrates a vivid contrast between the chaos brewing in the empire and the quiet emotional turbulence within Chu Qiao. The festive celebrations in the palace sharply contrast with the cold, lonely night outside, reflecting the larger tensions at play. The duality of the external conflict and Chu Qiao's internal struggle emphasizes her character's resolute nature.
She is torn between loyalty to Yan Xun and the weight of the path she has chosen. Her decision to stand by him, regardless of the emotional or physical cost, highlights her strength and unwavering dedication. At the same time, the silent yearning for something more—for a life where they could be together without the burden of war and revenge—adds a layer of emotional depth to her character. The fleeting thoughts of marriage and companionship are tender, but they are quickly overshadowed by the harsh reality of her circumstances.
Zhao Che's urgency and Chu Qiao's calmness further highlight the gravity of the situation. Chu Qiao's ability to see the bigger picture and prevent Zhao Che from acting rashly shows her wisdom and foresight. Her determination to fulfill her mission, even at the cost of personal sacrifice, echoes throughout the narrative.
The looming conflict and betrayal represented by the Muhe family adds to the sense of impending disaster. The entire chapter builds tension, keeping the reader on edge as the lines between loyalty, betrayal, and survival blur.