20demayo Chapter 348 Snowflakes are falling~ The north wind is howling~
Chapter 348 Snowflakes are falling~ The north wind is howling~
"Where is King Xu Longxiang of the North? Why didn't he come to present gifts?"
Qin Mu's voice wasn't loud, and even carried a hint of laziness, but his words, once spoken in the hall, were like a block of ice thrown into boiling water.
Everyone paused for a moment.
Some people are raising their glasses, the rim resting on their lips; some are picking up food, their chopsticks hovering in mid-air; some are talking in hushed tones, their words abruptly cut off before they've even finished.
The sounds of string and wind instruments still lingered, and the red silk ribbons of the dancers still fluttered, but the liveliness seemed to have been stripped away in an instant, leaving only a thin, fragile shell.
All eyes turned to a spot on the side of the hall.
It's empty there.
On the table in front of the seats were wine cups and bowls and chopsticks. The wine cups were full, and the bowls and chopsticks were untouched. Everything was neat and tidy, as if waiting for someone who would never come.
The silence in the hall lasted only a few breaths before being replaced by whispers.
"Xu Longxiang didn't come?"
"Wouldn't this be disrespecting His Majesty?"
"Surely not? He's the King of the North, after all. Doesn't he even know basic manners?"
"I heard he arrived in the capital a long time ago, why didn't he come today?"
"I don't know... there's probably something going on here."
"How could he not come? This is His Majesty's wedding; as the King of the North, how could he be absent?"
"Shh—keep your voice down. That guy is not someone to be trifled with."
"No matter how formidable His Majesty may be, he is still the ruler, and the minister is his subject. What kind of logic is it for a subject not to attend the ruler's wedding?"
"That's strange. I just saw him over there in that corner, how could he disappear in the blink of an eye?"
The murmurs were very soft, like the buzzing of a swarm of bees, kept low, but the lower they were kept, the more meaningful they seemed.
Some people frowned, some shook their heads, some remained expressionless, and some lowered their eyes to hide the schadenfreude in their eyes.
Tuoba Ye held his wine cup, the smile on his lips deepening.
Yelü Gu lowered his head, looking at the cup of wine in front of him that he had never drunk, and a slight smile appeared on his lips.
In the midst of this subtle, increasingly profound silence, a series of hurried footsteps sounded at the palace entrance.
The footsteps were hurried and fragmented, like someone running on pebbles, each step carrying an uncontrollable panic.
Fan Li appeared at the entrance of the palace.
He was wearing a dark blue scholar's robe, the hem of which was dusty, and his belt was slightly askew, indicating that he had run all the way here.
His face was covered in sweat, his bangs clung to his skin, his complexion was flushed, he was breathing rapidly, and his chest was heaving violently.
He stood on the threshold, his gaze quickly sweeping around the hall before he lowered his eyes, strode to the center of the hall, and bowed deeply.
"Your Majesty, please calm your anger."
His voice still carried the slight panting from running, and every word seemed to be squeezed out of his throat.
"His Highness encountered a slight mishap during his cultivation yesterday and felt unwell. He just returned to the post station to rest. It was by no means an intentional absence."
"His Highness's first act upon waking was to order me to present congratulatory gifts; however, he is unable to attend in person, and I beg Your Majesty's forgiveness."
After he finished speaking, he straightened up and waved towards the outside of the hall.
Several servants carried in boxes of various sizes in single file.
The chests were tied with red silk and decorated with gold-stamped "囍" (double happiness) characters, and a row of them were placed inside the hall.
The palace maid stepped forward, opened the boxes one by one, and announced the contents one by one.
"The King of the North's gifts include: three hundred pearls from the East Sea; ten pairs of Hetian jade discs; one hundred thousand taels of gold; five hundred thousand taels of silver; one thousand bolts of brocade; one thousand sable furs; one hundred catties of deer antlers; one hundred catties of ginseng; one hundred fine horses; and ten thousand catties of black iron."
Each time the announcement was made, a suppressed gasp would rise from inside the hall.
This gift is far more lavish than any other gift from any other envoy; it's so lavish it doesn't seem like a gift, but rather like an act of atonement.
The sums were so generous that one couldn't help but wonder what he was afraid of.
Qin Mu leaned back in his chair and listened to the palace maid's announcement without saying a word.
The hall fell silent for a moment, and everyone's eyes were on Qin Mu, waiting for him to speak.
Fan Li stood in the center of the hall, his hands hanging down. Sweat still clung to his face, and his breathing had gradually calmed down, but his heart was beating faster and faster.
Qin Mu looked at him.
He stared at it for a long time.
So long that Fan Li's back began to feel cold, so long that his fingers trembled slightly inside his sleeves, so long that new beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.
Then Qin Mu smiled.
That smile was gentle, as gentle as a spring breeze.
"Minister Xu is a pillar of the nation," he said, his voice soft, with just the right amount of concern, "His health must not be compromised."
Fan Li's heart jumped.
"Well then," Qin Mu said in a still very light tone, as if he were talking about something perfectly ordinary, "after the banquet, the Empress and I will go to see him together."
The moment the words left his mouth, Fan Li's face turned deathly pale.
It was as white as paper, as white as the white marble steps outside the palace, which were bleached white by the sunlight.
His lips parted slightly, and a "ho" sound came from his throat, as if someone had grabbed his neck.
Only one thought echoed wildly in his mind—that everything he had just said was fabricated.
Xu Longxiang did not practice cultivation, did not encounter any problems, and did not experience any physical discomfort.
He's perfectly fine at the inn.
If Qin Mu went there and saw Xu Longxiang alive and kicking, then all his lies would be exposed.
Fan Li almost instinctively stepped forward, his voice trembling with urgency: "Your Majesty! Your Majesty is of inestimable worth; how can you condescend to visit your subject at the post station? This is against etiquette, absolutely unacceptable!"
His voice was so loud that everyone in the hall could hear it clearly, so loud that the music stopped for a moment, and so loud that the red ribbons of several dancers almost got tangled together.
He realized he had lost his composure after he finished speaking, and quickly lowered his head and bowed deeply, but his bowing posture revealed his panic.
Qin Mu looked at him and smiled.
"Why not?" he said, his voice still soft and smiling, but beneath that smile lay a chilling edge.
"My relationship with Minister Xu is harmonious, like that of brothers. It is only natural for me to visit him when he is unwell. Is it not in accordance with propriety?"
He paused, then said, "I am the embodiment of propriety."
The hall was completely silent.
No one dared to speak, no one dared to move, and even their breathing was kept to a minimum.
Everyone lowered their heads, looking at their toes, at the gold bricks in front of them, and at the small circle of wine swirling slightly in their cups.
Fan Li stood there, his whole body ice-cold.
The coldness started from the soles of my feet, spreading along my ankles, calves, and knees, all the way to my waist, abdomen, chest, and shoulders, until even my fingertips were chilled.
He stood there, like a tree struck by lightning, charred, withered, and about to collapse.
He wanted to say something more, to persuade him again, to come up with another reason, but his lips were trembling, his teeth were chattering, and he couldn't squeeze out a single word.
Li Si stepped out of the queue, walked to the center of the hall, and bowed deeply.
As he straightened up, his face was filled with tears of emotion, which slid down his wrinkled cheeks and dripped onto his dark purple official robe.
"Your Majesty loves the people like your own children and cares for your subjects. We are deeply grateful."
His voice was hoarse, tinged with tears, and every word seemed to be squeezed out from the deepest part of his heart.
"Your Majesty is wise!"
Wang Ben also came out, knelt on one knee, and clasped his hands in greeting.
"Your Majesty is wise!" His voice boomed, echoing throughout the hall.
Zhou Bingwen, Murong Zhan, and Chen Yanjing stepped forward one after another, knelt down, and shouted in unison, "Your Majesty is wise! Long live Your Majesty!"
The sound surged up like a tide, wave after wave, leaving Fan Li all alone in the center of the hall.
He stood there, looking at the kneeling figures and the faces that shouted "Your Majesty is wise," with only one thought in his mind—it's all over.
He cannot leave his seat.
He stood in the center of the hall, all eyes on him. If he turned and left, it would be tantamount to telling everyone that he had something to hide.
He could only stand there, wait, and pray.
I hope that Xu Longxiang can get advance notice at the post station, come up with a solution, and get away with it.
His fingers slowly clenched inside his sleeve, his nails digging deep into his palms; the sharp pain kept him conscious for the last time.
A smile returned to his face, a smile that was respectful, proper, and flawless.
But only he knew the chill beneath that smile.
The sunlight outside the palace grew brighter and brighter, bathing the entire imperial city in a golden glow.
The sounds of bells and drums had long since ceased, but the music of strings and bamboo instruments continued, the red silk ribbons of the dancers still fluttered, and the smiles of the envoys remained on their faces.
No one knew what would happen after this grand wedding, no one knew where the future of the Qin Dynasty would lead, and no one knew what the man sitting in the main seat would do next.
But there is one thing everyone knows—from this day forward, the Qin Dynasty has an Empress.
From today onwards, the sun is gone.
From this day forward, the two most powerful dynasties on this land have merged into one.
This realization has made some people cheer, some feel uneasy, some lose sleep, and some are ready to take action.
The banquet finally came to an end.
Qin Mu stood up, and Zhao Qingxue also stood up.
All the officials bowed in unison, and the envoys paid their respects in unison.
Qin Mu took Zhao Qingxue's hand, stepped down from the main seat, and walked towards the palace gate.
"Let's go," he said softly, with a hint of casual amusement, "to see Minister Xu."
Fan Li followed at the back of the group, his steps heavy as if he were walking on cotton.
He had only one thought in his mind—faster, even faster, faster than this team.
But he couldn't walk fast, he couldn't walk fast. He could only follow the group step by step, each step feeling like stepping on a knife's edge.
His gaze passed over the layers of people in front of him and looked toward the direction of the post station.
You can't see anything there, just a vast, empty sky that's been whitened by the sunlight.
He prayed frantically in his heart—Your Highness, you must get the news in advance, you must come up with a way, you must get through this unbelievable.
In the courtyard of the post station, the sword flashed like a bolt of lightning.
Xu Longxiang stood barefoot in the center of the courtyard, holding a long sword in his hand. The sword was slender, and the blade was as thin as a cicada's wing, gleaming with a cold light in the sunlight.
He had taken off his dark black python robe, leaving him only in a moon-white undergarment, the front of which was wide open, revealing his lean chest and muscular abdomen.
Sweat streamed down his neck, past his collarbone, across his chest, soaking through his undergarments and turning the pale white fabric a dark patch.
His sword was very fast.
It was so fast that the sword blade was invisible; all that could be seen were streaks of light flashing through the air, like lightning, like shooting stars, like white cracks tearing the heavens and the earth apart.
Each sword strike was accompanied by a sharp, piercing sound, like something screaming.
His feet were on bluestone slabs.
The stone slab was covered with sword marks, one after another, crisscrossing, some so deep they almost split the slab in two, others so shallow they left only a thin white line.
His feet trod on the sword marks, the soles of his bare feet were worn raw by the rough stone surface, bleeding and leaving a trail of dark red footprints on the bluestone.
But he couldn't feel the pain; only one thought occupied his mind—to chop.
Split this light, split this wind, split this sky, split the man who sat at the entrance of the Imperial Ancestral Temple, holding Zhao Qingxue's hand and raising it to the air, saying to everyone, "From today onwards, Empress Liyang is my Empress."
"drink!"
He let out a low roar, his body suddenly rising up, the sword blade stabbing towards the sky.
The sword light shot straight into the sky, splitting a passing white cloud in two. The cloud wisps surged to both sides, like a torn wound.
His body flipped in the air, and the sword blade drew an arc as it slashed towards the ground.
"boom!"
The bluestone slabs shattered, pebbles flew everywhere, and dust billowed.
He landed on the ground, kneeling on one knee, the tip of his sword touching the ground, panting heavily.
Sweat dripped from his forehead, onto the broken stone slabs, and onto the crisscrossing sword marks.
He had been practicing for a full hour.
From the moment the banquet began, from the moment Zhao Qingxue entered the Imperial Ancestral Temple, from the moment she knelt down, bowed her head, and said, "Your Majesty, I obey the decree," he never stopped.
He dared not stop.
He was afraid that if he stopped, he would remember that scene, her face, and her faint smile—a smile that wasn't for him, but for another man.
He was afraid that if he stopped, he wouldn't be able to hold back, he would rush out, he would burst into the Imperial Ancestral Temple, grab her hand, and say to her—come with me.
He can't go.
He must not act impulsively.
He couldn't let a moment of impulse ruin all the plans he'd made over the years.
So he practiced swordsmanship, practiced desperately, practiced like mad, until his arms ached so much he couldn't lift them, until his tiger's mouth cracked and bled profusely, until the true energy in his dantian was exhausted and his meridians withered, until his mind could hold nothing but swords.
Only in this way could he stop thinking about her.
If a background music were to play at this moment, it would definitely be that one: Snowflakes are falling, the north wind is howling.
Xu Longxiang stood up, gripped the hilt of his sword, and slashed out with his sword again.
The sword's edge sliced through the air, emitting a sharp hiss.
He kept slashing, one sword strike, then another palm strike, then another sword strike.
His breathing became more and more rapid, his heartbeat quickened, and his vision began to darken, but he kept going.
"Your Highness!"
A voice came from the courtyard gate, urgent and filled with barely suppressed panic.
Xu Longxiang's sword suddenly stopped, the tip of the sword hanging in mid-air, only three inches from the ground.