TBR CH168

After finishing their sugar figurines, they continued to stroll leisurely down the street, chatting idly.

Anyway, they had plenty of time now, and there was no need to concern themselves with affairs of state. All that mattered was the person beside them. The boatman had even given them inn vouchers, which meant they had connections everywhere. After all, merchants were also people who had journeyed through the martial world; encountering bandits on the water was helpless, but once in the city, it was all about their network.

Bingzhou was a good place.

With the canal connected, it was bustling with people and thriving.

However, for Chu Huaicun and Ji Ying, this city easily reminded them of past events.

They didn’t explicitly bring up what happened back then, but every corner carried traces of memory. For instance, this was the street corner where they first met.

The Lin family’s branch was in Yongzhou. Young Master Lin was originally just visiting his elders, but his situation at the time was truly dire. With the epidemic lockdown, the order of the world quickly dissolved. The elders of the branch family contracted the plague, and the sprawling mansion, being a prominent target at the time, struggled to maintain itself. Soon, people wielding knives and clubs surged in.

Ji Ying was still young then, and as the eldest son of the main family, he was discreetly escorted out of the mansion by his clansmen. He carried enough food for one person and a letter from his elders, intending to seek refuge with the local prefect.

Without a bodyguard, without servants, inside the large carriage, besides food, sat only the young eldest son of the Lin family. In the jolting of the carriage, Ji Ying’s face was somewhat pale, but his expression remained composed. He wore a snow-white robe, his eyes gentle and calm, and he softly said to the coachman:

“Don’t rush, go slower.”

If they had taken their time, perhaps the situation wouldn’t have escalated to that point. But the coachman, out of fear, drove the carriage too fast. The wind, catching the tail of the curtain, suddenly lifted it. Ji Ying sharply raised his eyes, and countless greedy eyes brazenly cast upon him and behind him—although there wasn’t much food, people only believed in what they held in their hands.

And he was helpless.

Just then, he suddenly noticed a pair of unusually different eyes in the crowd. The eyes were cold, without any hint of greed, merely scrutinizing him, as if something about him had piqued the other’s curiosity.

The carriage was still speeding, the whip lashing the horses, urging them forward. For some unknown reason, Ji Ying finally gave that direction a faint, somewhat pale smile. They would soon pass by those eyes. But people would eventually swarm in; the carriage was nothing more than a cage waiting to be devoured.

Or rather—

It wasn’t even a cage. Ji Ying realized that when the wind blew again, everything happening before him felt like an incredible illusion. The carriage curtain was lifted, and the young man in black simply stepped in, as if descending from the sky, appearing before him.

Ji Ying saw a sword. But before that sword, he saw the other’s eyes.

At the same time, the other also looked at him. In those cold eyes, a snowy white color suddenly reflected like a mirror. Ji Ying smiled within it, his face slightly pale, perhaps just a shadow of a past smile. But he appeared both calm and composed in the face of potential danger, possessing a graceful demeanor born of a tumultuous world. They gazed at each other, saying nothing, each realizing what their gaze implied.

“Who are you?”

The uninvited guest asked, completely disregarding that the question should have properly come from the person already in the carriage.

“My name is Lin Ying, courtesy name Yuan Ya.”

He said, then thought for a moment and added, “I am from the Lin family. And you, honored sir?”

The latter part of the sentence was clearly meaningless to the uninvited guest. The other suddenly drew the sword in his hand. The bright gleam of the sword illuminated the entire carriage. Ji Ying’s breath caught, and then he realized the blade was not aimed at him, but at the crowd outside.

Then the young man’s voice was light and cold, yet surprisingly convincing as he said:

“My name is Chu Huaicun. I intend to save you.”

Their first encounter was just like that—it should have only been like that. Ji Ying knew what courtesy he owed his savior. He promised Chu Huaicun that once they reached the prefect, he would find a place for him to stay. As it turned out, the prefect turned him away, and the Lin family’s coachman, seeing the dire situation, abandoned the young master to find his own way.

When Chu Huaicun appeared before Ji Ying again, he felt incredibly guilty, so much so that he apologized to the other. Ji Ying rummaged through all the remaining food he had and gave it to Chu Huaicun, although this was nowhere near enough to repay the act of saving his life.

The young swordsman in black looked at him strangely.

“I didn’t save you for you to die,”

he said, then pushed the food back, “You’re different from anyone I’ve met. If you also have nowhere to go, you can stay with me. At least you won’t starve to death.”

Two teenagers depending on each other in a besieged city during an epidemic—it sounded incredible. But Chu Huaicun’s ability to find food was indeed beyond Ji Ying’s imagination. He could even catch birds flying in the sky—that day, the two added a meal, and Ji Ying volunteered to prepare the ingredients while Chu Huaicun watched him.

The graceful and upright eldest son of the Lin family had, of course, never killed a bird, yet he did not frown, diligently experimenting, hoping he could also do something.

Even doing such a thing, his movements were still incorrigibly imbued with a certain composure of a young master from a noble family.

“What is the Lin family like?”

Chu Huaicun suddenly asked.

Ji Ying thought for a moment, trying to explain, but it was clearly difficult for the swordsman, who had no concept of such things, to understand. The swordsman’s life trajectory was also difficult for Ji Ying to comprehend: a solitary figure, competing with beggars for food, taken in and raised by his master, who taught him swordsmanship. Chu Huaicun explained that his master had traveled to the capital for a friend, to deal with certain matters.

Thus, he left this teenage boy to wander the martial world alone.

Chu Huaicun at that time believed that the thin blade in his hand could achieve everything he wished it could, never imagining that there were partings and deaths in the world that even his sword could not prevent; just as Ji Ying believed that if the young man could go with him, he was willing to give his whole heart to him, better than to anyone else in the world.

As the polite and restrained eldest son of the Lin family, he shouldn’t have thought that way.

Just as Chu Huaicun looked into Ji Ying’s eyes, and for some reason agreed to his request to return to the Lin family. He felt puzzled on one hand, and on the other, thought that if there were people everywhere like him, then it must be an indescribably good place.

They were each other’s exceptions.

Countless things happened later. The moon over Qingyu Lake hung in the sky like a shining stone; yet the firelight was brighter than the moonlight. The moment he rode back from Qingyu Lake to the Lin manor, Ji Ying, ignorant of the future, felt a slight stir in his heart, and for no reason, he thought of a line of poetry:

“This parting cannot be spoken, to whom shall this heart be repaid? On the Ba River in spring breeze, watering horses before peach blossoms.”

How does one say a proper farewell?

How much is enough to repay that sincere heart?

Separations in the human world come without reason, but reunions always require enduring countless hardships.

The lost moonlight eventually had a day when it was embraced again, but for the two of them, standing on the street corner where they first met again had taken too, too long, and they would never let go of the other’s hand again.

“Master said we can stay at his place for a while later,”

Chu Huaicun said, looking down at Ji Ying,

“And take care of him in his old age. Even though I never thought a swordsman like him would have a day of departure, he is, after all, very old. We can go to Jiangnan later. I always thought it suited you well there. There are many other places we can visit, but of course, we will have a place to settle down.”

“Our home.”

Ji Ying’s eyes carried a smile.

“Yes,” Chu Huaicun said, “We should have had a home a long time ago.”

In 2017, the C-nation Zhaodi Mausoleum re-excavation project began.

“Archaeologists utilized the latest technology,”

a sweet-voiced female reporter on television said,

“to restore the Zhaodi Mausoleum as closely as possible to its original appearance. In this archaeological activity, the most significant and potentially history-altering new discovery emerged—both the Zhaodi Mausoleum and the adjacent Mausoleum of Prime Minister Ji were merely cenotaphs; no human remains were found. The specific reasons still need to be discussed by experts and scholars, or perhaps, this mystery will forever remain buried in the depths of history.”

Although archaeologists still haven’t reached a definite conclusion, on C-nation’s largest fanfiction social platform, an account with the username “White Moonlight Glimmering” published a long fanfiction of several thousand words, providing a detailed and plausible explanation.

More than a mere fanfiction, it was more aptly described as a monumental academic thesis.

The creator of the thesis was extremely rigorous, citing extensively, with precise research down to a single line in vast historical records, and familiar with the latest archaeological excavation sites. As soon as the article was published, it was flooded with comments like “Ahhhhh, I’m melting,” “Emperor-Prime Minister’s ‘retreat together’ theory established,” and “How could they disappear together? They must have had an affair.”

The Emperor-Prime Minister CP (pairing) suddenly leaped from being the most tragic CP in the history circle to an officially recognized model CP.

Historically, Emperor Zhao was a very legendary emperor. He was a royal bloodline that had fallen among the common people, yet with his humble origins, he rose step by step to the position of prime minister through his military achievements. He reigned for only seventeen years, but he issued numerous far-reaching political decrees that played a crucial role in the survival and continuation of the dynasty.

He had no concubines or children in his entire life. Only one person’s name was closely linked to his:

The contemporary Prime Minister Ji, Ji Ying.

Historical records state that Ji Ying’s power once reached an incredibly flourishing peak. This was closely related to his past with Emperor Zhao and his assistance in helping Emperor Zhao ascend the throne with a legitimate identity. In recent years, Emperor Zhao’s bloodline legitimacy has been questioned by some researchers, making the historical records even more worthy of in-depth study.

Before the latest archaeological discoveries, the ending of the Emperor-Prime Minister pairing had scarred countless emotional CP fans.

First, there was the period when the two were at loggerheads. When Emperor Zhao was still prime minister, Ji Ying stood in opposition to him, and his reputation was extremely poor, practically that of a sycophant and lackey. The estrangement during their youth, the missed encounters of not recognizing each other, and the tension of their confrontations—all these made many CP fans weep while obsessively shipping them. Then, Ji Ying was revealed to be a member of the Lin clan, a plot twist that sparked countless frenzies.

Following that, there was a period when Prime Minister Ji was alienated by the Emperor. The clear distinction between ruler and minister, and the difference in their attitudes before and after, had always been a popular topic of discussion. The record of “standing amidst wind and dew in the midnight” was like a blunt knife cutting flesh, every word bleeding.

However, this period also ended quickly, and Chu Huaicun purged all those who had taken advantage of Ji Ying’s misfortune during this time. Scholars, after research, speculated that this might have been a play staged by Emperor Zhao and Prime Minister Ji together.

This conclusion was indeed beautiful.

But soon after, Emperor Zhao suddenly passed away.

Historical records state that Prime Minister Ji did not close his eyes for several days, serving before Emperor Zhao’s coffin, until he died from weeping blood. Later generations, moved by their deep affection and his devotion unto death, buried him alongside the Emperor in the royal mausoleum.

Stubborn CP fans typed “double death is HE” on their keyboards while weeping profusely over this ending. The artists in the history circle were mostly very talented, with extremely high average output. Exquisite fan art and handwritten works came out one after another, and even the official circles joined in. Peripheral shops around the Zhaodi Mausoleum during visits even sold various products featuring the Emperor and Prime Minister.

However, two archaeological discoveries at the beginning of this year completely overturned the evaluation of this tragic CP.

One of these was actually discovered a bit later, which is the imperial mausoleum mentioned above. The other discovery, however, was earlier, also published online by the same talented fan artist “White Moonlight Glimmering.” Everyone knew that the blogger’s true identity in real life was a Ph.D. student in archaeology from a top university, often having to go on missions with her supervisor.

Until one day, her account suddenly posted a series of messages with many exclamation marks:

“OMG! Shipping the Emperor-Prime Minister is my blessing!! My ship is real!!! [Can’t believe it]”

“Shook me for ten thousand years”

“Everyone wait, I really need to calm down right now. The specific excavation details will be announced later. Someone at my level definitely can’t just spread information. But! But! But! …No, my supervisor is about to knock on my door.”

Subsequently, the blogger briefly disappeared for a period. At first, CP fans stayed up day and night in the comment section, but as time passed, discordant voices gradually began to mock them, believing that the blogger was speaking nonsense without any, and impossibly any, historical evidence, while the historical records were already clear enough. If there were indeed any new records, they might not necessarily be credible, and so on.

The blogger did not reply to any of these comments.

The buzz gradually faded until, after about two or three months, a state-certified research institution quietly released an authentication certificate. What was authenticated was a recently excavated historical artifact: a carefully preserved scroll painting. The paper was of excellent quality, still clearly discernible after hundreds of years, the painter’s skill was exquisite, and the calligrapher’s brushstrokes were powerful, truly a masterpiece.

But this was not the main point of the authentication report.

The crucial point was that the painter was identified as Prime Minister Ji, and the calligrapher as Emperor Zhao Chu Huaicun. And the year noted on this painting was far after their deaths had been historically concluded.

Perhaps this conclusion was too shocking, so the research department spent a great deal of effort repeatedly confirming it, and also hired professional artists and calligraphers to distinguish. However, countless judgments pointed to the same incredible yet undeniable conclusion.

As soon as this report came out, “White Moonlight Glimmering”‘s Weibo comments basically exploded.

Even those who had originally firmly believed in the Emperor-Prime Minister CP couldn’t help but feel confused: Could they really be this real? Happiness came too suddenly; let me take a moment. The main characters, who had been dead for hundreds of years, suddenly showed off their affection with firsthand historical evidence. Is this truly happening?!

Subsequently, a second exploration of the Zhaodi Mausoleum proved this point without reservation.

The Emperor-Prime Minister CP instantly ascended to the top of the most enviable CP list.

This was not only due to their genuine affection, but also because the main characters were so generous with their “sugar,” and when they gave it, it was a world-shattering, grand dose of sweetness, directly cementing their relationship, as if they had no fear of anyone in later generations commenting, or rather, it was as if they were blatantly showing future generations how incredibly real Chu Huaicun and Ji Ying’s relationship was.

This painting is currently a prized exhibit at the C-nation Museum, regularly displayed to the public.

“From the traces of archaeological excavation,”

the tour guide skillfully drew the tourists into this past event, “After Emperor Zhao feigned his death, he and Prime Minister Ji went into seclusion in a plum forest in Jiangnan. Many precious historical materials were found here, including his ceremonial sword, jade pendant, and the calligraphy and paintings now exhibited in this hall. At the same time, corresponding records were also found in various local documents, indicating that they probably traveled extensively, sometimes under the name ‘Jiezhao’.”

Tourists looked up one after another, gazing at the silk painting hanging on the wall.

The painting techniques of the ancients were exquisite, especially those of Ji Ying, who was famous for his talent in his youth. That painting instantly transported everyone present into the scene, as if they were there themselves.

The plain white silk paper had yellowed over time, but the outlines of the two figures on the painting remained clearly discernible. One, with a ceremonial sword at his waist, was Emperor Zhao; the other, holding a plum blossom with a slight smile, was Prime Minister Ji. The painter had meticulously depicted this scene, as if wishing to record it permanently on paper.

Chu Huaicun plucked the most vibrant branch from the plum tree and handed it to him.

Everyone who came to view the painting would lean in to read Chu Huaicun’s inscription on the painting. The painting’s year of creation was later, at which point both men were likely quite old, yet Ji Ying’s hand holding the brush was steady, and Chu Huaicun’s inscription, like the man himself, had powerful, unreserved brushstrokes.

“Green hair untouched by white strands. When drunk, taking up the brush with even more spirit. Loving to chase past events with rambling words—”

They met, understood each other, separated, reunited, stayed together, and in their twilight years, recalled their youth, their original intentions unchanged.

At a certain interstice in history, Chu Huaicun looked at him, who was smiling before him, and made the final stroke on the scroll:

“—and compare the plum blossoms to that person.”