Unyielding Spring Mountains - Chapter 102: The End

Chapter 102: The End

With Qi Yan executing Ji Yuan, the dynasty changed hands and a new master sat on the throne.

Yet for the common people, life continued as before. Who occupied the throne mattered little to them. Naturally, there were dissenting voices in the court, but they were swiftly drowned out by the tide of acceptance.

Qi Yan, as the late Jin King’s grandson, wielded both the king’s testament and formidable military force. Even if it broke with the strict rites of succession, his command of the capital and the overthrow of the old royal line made him the inarguable king.

The capital’s reconstruction began, every facet in need of renewal.

News of what had transpired in Jiangdu—the capital of Jin—was galloped by couriers to the palace of Qi.

King Jiang Qi of Qi, upon receiving the letter, clapped his hands in delight: “Qi Yan is victorious, the King of Chu is dead, and vast southern territories formerly of Chu are now under his control, nearly half the lands bordering Qi.”

Lately, King Qi had been in high spirits: firstly, the frontlines ran in his favor; secondly, concubine Yue Shu was pregnant. The king had never been obsessed with having heirs—yet until now, every child born under his roof had died in infancy. Yue Shu was the only one among the consorts whose body had recently shown hopeful signs.

The king’s ornate carriage stopped outside Yue Shu’s quarters. He strode inside to find the courtyard eerily deserted, not a single palace servant in sight—save for the personal maid who stood guard at the door.

King Qi asked, “Is your lady within?”

The maid shook her head, her voice trembling, skin pale as parchment: “Your Majesty, the lady is not inside. She went to the pond garden to admire the flowers.”

Her whole body shivered.

King Qi sensed something amiss. “Not inside?”

From within, muted voices could be heard. His face darkened as he shot the maid a sharp look. “Step aside!” he barked.

In the chamber, Yue Shu rested her cheek on a man’s shoulder, her arms wrapped from behind around his waist, watching him play soft notes on the zither.

When the clear, melodious sound died, Zuo Ying’s long hands pressed the strings still. He glanced toward the window. “A’Shu, did you hear something?”

She reached her slender, red-lacquered fingers for his face, turning him back to her with a beaming smile. “No sound, ah-brother; you must be mistaken. Keep playing.”

Zuo Ying frowned ever so slightly—just then, the door crashed open and King Qi burst inside.

He took in the scene—Yue Shu draped languidly around the white-robed man’s neck, cheeks flushed, her lips swollen as if fresh from a kiss. An ambiguous imprint stained the man’s cheek.

King Qi stood, first startled, then suspicious. “Yue Shu, what were you doing here with him?”

Yue Shu rose, the hem of her crimson dress trailing the floor—she seemed a fire orchid in her bewitching beauty. She glided up to the king, voice teasing: “What does Your Majesty imagine we were doing?”

Zuo Ying stood from the zither table and pulled Yue Shu behind him.

She clung to his wrist, laying her head on his shoulder, taunting: “Is it not clear? I am having an illicit affair with the Chancellor.”

King Qi stared at her, eyes growing colder. “Yue Shu, is this not your brother?”

“Yes, but he’s only my adoptive brother. I was taken in and raised by the Left family in Chu. Though not bound by blood, he is dearer to me than kin. When he came to Qi, I lied about his identity so he could stay,” she replied smoothly.

King Qi’s anger rose sharply, the muscles at his jaw twitching. “Guards—!”

Yet Yue Shu’s crisp voice cut through his: “Guards—!”

He looked at her as her hand dropped to her belly. “Guess, Your Majesty, whose child this is?”

His gaze flicked to her abdomen; veins stood out at his temples as he lurched forward, but Zuo Ying blocked him. “Jiang Qi!”

Just then palace guards rushed in. King Qi stepped back to command them—only to find himself immediately surrounded.

Yue Shu said, “Your Majesty cannot summon them. These are my brother’s men.”

The guards, faces blank, grasped King Qi and forced him to his knees. He burned with fury, bellowing for help, but only silence answered from beyond the doors.

Before him, the scarlet hem of a dress brushed the ground. When he looked up, Yue Shu’s eyes were icy, without fear.

Gone was the cowering slave girl of his past; now her eyes shone with cold resolve.

He struggled and snarled, like a beast at bay. Yue Shu seized his chin and forced his head up.

She mimicked his old domineering ways. Jiang Qi had never known such humiliation.

She leaned in, lips close to his ear, whispering: “How slow-witted you are, Jiang Qi. My brother and I have been conspiring against you for ages. You thought our bond was pure sibling love? Do you know what we did behind your back? Not just here in the bedchamber—your study, the gardens, we were together everywhere…”

She savored his furious expression. “That time you asked about the marks on my neck, I said it was an insect bite. The truth was—our affair nearly exposed.”

“Wretch!” he spat.

Yue Shu straightened and ordered coldly, “Bring the wine I prepared for the king.”

A palace maid entered with a tray, carrying a bowl toward King Qi.

He recognized it at once as poison, and tried to throw himself aside.

Yue Shu looked down. “Jiang Qi, for seven years I have hated you, wished every day to eat your flesh and drain your blood. Today, drink this. Die by my hand.”

He raged, “How dare you! I am King—you kill me, you’re a regicide! You’ll never survive!”

Yue Shu laughed scornfully. “Even the people would celebrate your fall! The court belongs to my brother now—after you, who could bar my way?”

Zuo Ying finally spoke from where he stood: “There is something Your Majesty never learned. You thought I came to Qi to assist you. In truth, I am an advisor to the King of Jin.”

“Qi Yan?” King Qi gasped.

“Yes. Do you recall betraying the late King of Jin in league with Ji Yuan? Qi Yan never forgot. He waited for this day—and was never your ally, never your benefactor.”

King Qi’s eyes widened in horror.

Yue Shu took the poison from the maid and pressed it to his mouth. He tried to turn away, but the guards yanked his hair viciously. She broke his jaw open and poured in the inky liquid.

He writhed and cursed: “Yue Shu! I’ll kill you!”

At his fury, Yue Shu pressed the bowl harder, forcing every drop down his throat. “You’ll kill me? Why should I let you? All my life you kept me as a slave. Why should I bow and grovel before you, let you degrade and abuse me, trample my dignity? I’d rather be a lowly slave than ever enter your harem. Jiang Qi—I’ll feed your flesh to the dogs!”

“A’Shu!” Zuo Ying lunged to hold her, calming her ragged breaths.

Even the guards were stunned. None had imagined this delicate Lady Yue—always obedient—could become so fierce.

Black blood oozed from Jiang Qi’s lips; his body quivered violently then collapsed.

The guards fell back. Silence blanketed the great hall save for his dying spasms, his glassy eyes dull and wide.

Yue Shu’s eyes brimmed red. She wrenched from Zuo Ying’s grip, seized a guard’s sword.

“Madam!” the guards shouted.

She raised the blade and plunged it downward.

“Beast! Beast! Beast!” she shrieked.

Zuo Ying tried to stop her, but she stabbed Jiang Qi again and again—finally burying the sword deep in his throat, releasing a torrent of blood.

His hand, once reaching for her, dropped at last, rigid and grotesque.

Yue Shu cast the sword aside. Zuo Ying gathered her trembling form in his arms, but she kept her cold gaze fixed on the corpse, wracked with shivers.

“A’Shu, A’Shu…”

She turned to him, tears glittering on her lashes. At his gentle coaxing, restraint snapped; sobbing, she collapsed against him. “Ah-brother…”

So many years of torment and degradation finally found release.

Zuo Ying held her. “It’s over now, it’s done.”

She couldn’t stop crying.

Blood splattered the floor and painting columns, her dress and cheeks stained in crimson drops.

Looking at the king’s corpse, Zuo Ying said to his men: “Send the head to the King of Jin.”

It was over.

He looked down; in his arms, the woman’s fingers dug into his chest. Softly, he asked, “A’Shu, will you stay here and wait for me, or…”

“I’ll go with you!” she blurted, head raised. “I never want to stay here again; this palace is a prison, sickening beyond relief! Take me, and our child—please?”

Tears shimmered in her eyes. Zuo Ying held her closer. “Alright.”

As she calmed, her tenderness returned, and the sharpness of her vengeance faded, as if it had never existed.

Sunlight flooded in, glinting on blood. Leaning in his arms, she felt like she’d returned to happier days in Chu, years prior.

“Ah-brother, when we leave Qi, will you take me to see the spring blossom?” she whispered.

It had been so many years since she’d seen spring.

Though the palace passed from winter to spring, swallow after swallow returning, her own heart had remained an icy waste, never thawing.

A gentle breeze touched Zuo Ying’s brow, and he took her hand. Memories fluttered: a thousand springs ago, a peach-clad maiden had danced beneath the blooms, his zither her music, petals falling like rain.

He had survived the hardest years alone, longing always for the day he could take her away.

Now, at last, his weary soul found peace.

He responded with a simple “Yes,” and the word, spoken so simply, stilled her heart.

King Qi’s head was presented to Qi Yan, along with the state seal of Qi, delivered by Zuo Ying.

Yue Shu knelt before Qi Yan, formally declaring Qi’s submission to Jin—presenting the territory and people, and honoring Qi Yan as the sovereign of all under heaven.

Pregnant, she could easily have claimed, in court, that her child was King Qi’s heir and held onto power, but she had never desired it; she had only ever wanted to ruin Qi’s court and destroy its politics, and now she had done it.

It was Qi Yan who had rescued Zuo Ying from the exiles of Chu, to whom they now owed their lives. To grant him Qi itself was both gratitude and relief.

And it was not only Qi—by now, the war in southern Chu was also nearing its close.

The Qi clan had immense prestige in Chu already, deep-rooted influence, and with Wei Ling’s assistance—the aged General Qi donning his armor once more—the pair swept south, settling all resistance in just a month.

So the east—the state of Qi—and the south—the state of Chu—were unified within the Jin empire.

At the end of spring, Qi Yan and Wei Zhen prepared for their wedding.

Wei Zhen was only a princess of Wei, but the king had placed the governance of his country in her hands. The people revered her, remembering how she had stood beside them to defend the city. So, after consultation, it was decided the marriage would be held twice: first in Wei, so all might witness the princess’s betrothal.

In the princess’s palace, the chamber was filled with laughter, the air thick with perfume and silks.

Wei Zhen sat before the mirror, her maids behind her, fitting the phoenix crown she would wear at the wedding.

Ornate hairpins studded with jewels were tucked into her cloudlike hair—glittering, dazzling. Pearled side-drops swayed, framing a face of breathtaking beauty; the blurry reflection of floral patterns fell upon her skin, as if a glow radiated from within, leaving the palace maids spellbound.

Wei Zhen reached to touch the pearl pins; their chill sent a delicate shiver through her. Looking at her image in the mirror, she drew back, folding her hands in her lap.

Thump, thump—she could hear her own heart racing.

Though she and Qi Yan had already wed, she was, for some reason, intensely nervous about the ceremony to come.