Silence. No sound of weeping, no sobs. Murong Jin sighed inwardly. She moved to straighten up, but suddenly, he pulled her into a fierce embrace. His head pressed against her shoulder, his arms locking around her, holding her so tight it hurt.
She froze. Slowly, she raised her hand and placed it on his back. She felt him tremble, and then his grip tightened even more.
"Murong Jin," he said, his voice muffled against her shoulder. "My father wasn't assassinated."
"What?" She pushed him away, staring into his eyes. "Not assassinated?"
He nodded. He opened his hand, showing her what he held.
She took it and examined it in the moonlight. A dried plant, leaves and stem intact, but blackened. In the pale light, it looked sinister.
"This is Mingjue?" She remembered. He had shown it to her once before, telling her it was the poison that killed his mother.
"It is." He took it back, staring at the blackened herb with cold, dead eyes, ignoring her presence.
"You said… Mother died of this."
"So did Father." He crushed the herb in his fist, then slammed his hand onto the stone floor.
The dull thud echoed in the empty room. She gasped and knelt beside him, taking his clenched fist in her hands.
His fingers slowly uncurled. The powdered herb slipped through his fingers, scattering on the floor.
"He took the poison himself." It was a long time before he found his voice. "I found this in the side hall."
"But why?" She couldn't understand. He had made Xue Liulan the Crown Prince, handed over the affairs of state. He had raised Murong's son to be a worthy successor. Why choose death now?
"To suffer what she suffered," he whispered. "For him, death was a release."
Death by Mingjue was slow. A daily draining of life, watching helplessly as the end approached. Despair killed the spirit long before the poison killed the body.
She stared at him, stunned. "You mean… he wanted to feel her pain?"
"Yes." He stood, pulling her up with him. He smoothed the wrinkles in her skirt. "The floor is cold. You should take better care of yourself."
"Seeing you like that, I couldn't help it." She took his cold hands in hers.
He turned to her, his gaze intense. Then he pulled her into his arms again, holding her against his chest.
"Murong Jin, I have no mother, and now no father." His voice trembled, each word a hammer blow to her heart.
Parents might be flawed, but blood was blood. When death separated them forever, loneliness was a beast that devoured the living.
She wrapped her arms around his waist. "You have me. And Qi'er. We will watch over you. We will never leave."
The Emperor's death plunged the nation into mourning. Jindu closed its markets for three days. The capital was draped in white, as if winter had come early.
In the grand hall, the Emperor's coffin lay in state, flanked by white spirit banners. Xue Zhuoran stood on the last step before the hall, hesitating. He stared at the sea of white, unable to take another step.
Xue Liulan walked out and stopped in front of his fourth brother. His eyes were red. Xue Zhuoran stared back, his face wooden.
"You…" Xue Zhuoran struggled to speak.
"It wasn't me," Xue Liulan said calmly, meeting his gaze.
His eyes were clear. Xue Zhuoran let out a breath and stepped onto the platform, bowing. "Your subject greets the Crown Prince."
"Siyou." Xue Liulan grabbed his hands, frowning.
Xue Zhuoran just looked at him and shook his head slightly, his eyes flicking to the officials kneeling on either side of the coffin, watching them.
Xue Liulan understood. He let go, allowing his brother to kneel.
"Get up." As soon as Xue Zhuoran's knees touched the ground, Xue Liulan pulled him up. "Pay your respects to Father first."
After the rites were performed, they left the hall and sat in the Imperial Study nearby.
"You rode straight here. Is your health holding up?" Xue Liulan asked.
Xue Zhuoran coughed lightly. "I'm used to it. I'm fine."
"Good." Xue Liulan ignored his pale face and purple-tinged lips, forcing a smile. But he knew. Xue Zhuoran's illness grew worse with age. One day, his lungs would fail him.
Xue Zhuoran caught his breath. "Father was always healthy. Why did he leave us so suddenly?"
Xue Liulan's gaze darkened. "Guo Shangzhong claims assassination. But in truth, he was poisoned."
"Poisoned?" Xue Zhuoran's eyes turned cold. "What poison?"
"Mingjue. The same poison that killed Mother." Xue Liulan placed the withered plant on the table. "I found it in the Zhaoyang Palace, where he kept her portraits."
Xue Zhuoran picked it up. A lifelong patient, he knew something of medicine.
"Who did it?" he asked sharply. "Guo Shangzhong?"
"It was Father himself." Xue Liulan closed his eyes. "The assassination scene was staged by Guo Shangzhong. I don't know why."
"Suicide? With such a cruel poison?" Xue Zhuoran murmured, then looked up, disbelief in his eyes. "Because of Mother?"
Xue Liulan nodded. "We all underestimated his love for her."
"So it seems." Xue Zhuoran sighed. "Well. At least he found peace with his own heart."
They sat in silence, listening to the wailing of mourners outside.
"Why did Guo Shangzhong stage an assassination?" Xue Zhuoran asked, worried.
The brothers were away from Jindu. The burden fell entirely on Xue Liulan. Guo Shangzhong was no Deng Qinyao; he had no principles. Xue Liulan's position was perilous.
"I don't know yet."
"Be careful. He is capable of anything," Xue Zhuoran warned. "Especially after you ascend. He chose you because he thought you would be a weak ruler. Now it's clear you won't be his puppet."
"If he can't control me, he'll try to remove me."
"Or force you into a position where you have no choice." Xue Zhuoran stood and looked out at the officials lined up outside the hall. "How many of them are truly mourning Father?"
"They are crying for themselves." A clear voice rang out from the door. "A new emperor brings new courtiers. They are crying for their own uncertain futures."
Xue Liulan looked up. Xue Moyan stood there, a mocking smile on his lips. Behind him stood a woman in white, her hair loose, half-covering her face.
"This is…?" Xue Liulan looked at his sixth brother. He never traveled with female attendants.
Xue Liulan and Xue Zhuoran exchanged a glance. They knew.
"Qiwu greets the Crown Prince, and the Fourth Prince." Her voice was hoarse, at odds with her delicate appearance.
"Gongzi Qiwu." Xue Liulan raised a hand. "Rise."
Xue Moyan sat beside Xue Zhuoran. "She insisted on coming to thank you for Deng Yan."
"A small matter."
She curtsied. "Without the Crown Prince's intelligence, I could not have killed him and escaped alive."
"His death benefited me as well. We are even."
She straightened and walked to stand beside Xue Moyan, hands clasped.
"Not sitting?" Xue Zhuoran smiled. "You should change that habit. Look at Ling Yan; she's not so awkward anymore."
"Seventh Brother didn't come?" Xue Liulan asked suddenly.
Xue Zhuoran looked at Xue Moyan and sighed. "Father banished him from Jindu. He couldn't disobey that order while Father's bones were still cold."
"But…" Xue Liulan hesitated.
Xue Moyan waved a hand. "Let him be. He's stubborn."
"He and Ling Yan can roam the world together. It's a good life. Don't dwell on it." Xue Zhuoran patted Xue Liulan's shoulder. "Your priority now is dealing with Guo Shangzhong."
Forty-nine days later, the funeral procession began. Xue Liulan led the way to the imperial mausoleum north of the city.
The morning wind was biting. The officials shivered in their ranks. The road was paved with white silk, and white banners hung from every door and window. The Emperor's coffin rested in the main hall, as if taking one last look at the throne he had held for a lifetime.
Xue Liulan stood before the coffin. Guo Shangzhong stood beside him, hands in his sleeves, whisk resting on his arm.
"The hour has come…" Guo Shangzhong called out.
"Your Highness, I have a petition!" A man stepped out from the ranks and knelt before Xue Liulan.
Murong Jin, standing at the head of the military officials, frowned. It was Minister Tong of the Court of the Imperial Clan.
"Minister Tong, today is the Emperor's funeral. Can it not wait until tomorrow?" She stepped forward, staring him down.
"Your Highness, by the laws of our ancestors, the harem cannot interfere in politics." Tong met her gaze, righteous and unafraid.
She froze, then sneered. "You are mistaken. I am a general of the dynasty, and the Lord of Yuling, titled by the late Emperor himself. I have every right to participate in state affairs. Unless you wish to erase the late Emperor's decree?"
Tong's face changed. He knelt in silence, but refused to move.
Xue Liulan's eyes narrowed. "General Murong, withdraw."
"Yes." She stepped back into line.
"Speak, Minister Tong." Xue Liulan's voice was calm.