Unyielding Spring Mountains - Chapter 112

Chapter 112 Extra Story 02

He claimed to be her elder brother and sought an audience outside the palace, requesting the guards to escort him inside.

The King of Qi asked, “Shu’er, is this your elder brother?”

She gazed at him for a long time. Across the heavy passage of years, his eyes once again reached hers, and her heart trembled. She gave a faint nod. “It’s him. He is my elder brother.”

After the banquet, she and her brother spoke in the side hall. Her heart was filled with thousands of unspoken words, yet she did not know where to begin. In the end, she only uttered one sentence: “It has been so long, Elder Brother.”

“Yes, it has been a long time since I last saw my younger sister. My sister remains just as before, as though she has not changed at all.”

How could she not have changed?

Over the long years, everything had shifted. She was no longer the innocent girl who had grown up carefree under his protection; her hands were stained with filth and blood.

Her fingers trembled as she lifted her hand, pulling open her robe to bare her shoulder and neck to the frigid air.

“But Elder Brother, I am no longer who I once was. This character branded upon me has followed me for years. In these years, I have done so many things I had no choice but to do…”

On her neck, glaring and unmistakable, was branded the character “奴” (slave).¹

After becoming the concubine of the King of Qi, she had tried every means to erase this mark, but the character seemed nailed into her very bones and blood. Every morning as she dressed, every night as she undressed, it ceaselessly reminded her: she was still a slave of the Qi Palace.

She did not know how to face her elder brother. Having become like this, would he still embrace her as he once did, cherishing her without reservation?

His fingertips brushed over the character “奴,” slowly gliding to her neck, and finally his palm gently pressed against her cheek.

“Before I came here, I heard much of what you have suffered in the Qi Palace. You need not blame yourself for any of it, for Ah Shu, I am the same as you.”

Following the path of his hand, her gaze lowered, falling upon his neck, where the faint trace of the character “囚” (prisoner) could be seen.²

After the downfall of the Zuo family, all the male members were exiled to the northern frontiers. How could a criminal like him have escaped from there? He must have endured endless humiliation and hardship, expending every ounce of effort to finally arrive at the Qi Palace.

She looked into his gentle, smiling eyes, too afraid to imagine what suffering he had endured.

That night, they conversed by candlelight.

He said he had come for two reasons: first, to see her; second, to help Qi Yan. That name, of course, she had heard before. When her brother suggested persuading the King of Qi to dispatch troops in aid of Qi Yan, she agreed without hesitation.

Helping Qi Yan meant helping herself. The only path before her to escape the Qi Palace was to kill the King of Qi.

King Jiang Qi was a man of debauchery and cruelty, fond of wasteful extravagance. Upon her brother’s arrival, he resolved a dire crisis for Jiang Qi, quelling the objections of the court ministers.

When her brother urged the King to dismiss the old ministers, it was she who whispered in his ear upon the pillow. When her brother catered to Jiang Qi’s tastes by proposing extravagant palace renovations, it was she who suggested constructing a palace so luxurious that no other in the world could compare, to glorify Qi’s national prestige. When her brother infiltrated Jiang Qi’s private quarters to steal military documents, it was she who provided cover and kept watch.

Her brother was granted an official post; his power and status swelled day by day. The more the deposed old ministers accused him of misleading the ruler and endangering the state, the more Jiang Qi trusted him with heavy responsibilities.

And she, too, cherished being by her brother’s side.

When her brother assisted Jiang Qi in reviewing memorials, she would quietly practice calligraphy at his side.

For years as a slave, she had not touched books or writings, and had forgotten everything her brother once taught her—some characters she no longer even recognized, let alone writing them. While reviewing the memorials, her brother would often guide her, sometimes even embracing her from behind as he once did when they were young, holding her hand to guide her strokes.

The scent on him was completely different from the strong dragon musk clinging to Jiang Qi—it was aquilaria (aloeswood), warm and refined, subtle and soothing to the senses.³

When he spoke, his voice was gentle, the soft breath falling upon her neck. Her body leaned slightly back, closer to his chest, and he did not release her.

It was at this moment that Jiang Qi pushed open the door.

Jiang Qi’s gaze fell upon them. Afraid he might notice something amiss, she instinctively tried to put down the brush and rise, only to have her brother’s hand tighten around her waist, holding her firmly in place.

Smiling, her brother explained to Jiang Qi that he had merely been teaching her calligraphy. She forced a smile at Jiang Qi, her palms clammy with cold sweat. Having spent years with Jiang Qi, she knew well his mercurial temperament; even the slightest displeasure could send him into violent rage.

Yet Jiang Qi, in the end, suspected nothing, merely remarking that their sibling bond was truly close—that even after so many years apart, they were still this affectionate.

She breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Lately she had been spending more time with her brother than with Jiang Qi, and she realized she had grown too obvious; perhaps she ought to restrain herself a little.

She stepped forward to take the King of Qi’s arm and walked out with him. As she crossed the threshold, she turned back to glance at her brother.

His face remained serene, seated upright behind the desk, his black eyes slowly lifting.

That same night, during a storm, she was due, as usual, to attend Jiang Qi. As she dressed before the mirror, footsteps sounded behind her—her brother had entered her chamber without her noticing, emerging from the shadows.

In the mirror, their reflections appeared side by side. His hand settled upon her shoulder.

“Are you going?” His voice was low.

Her body stiffened; the hand fastening her earring halted. With a faint “clink,” the earring slipped from her fingers, only to be caught by his outstretched hand.

Outside, voices urged her onward—the King of Qi had sent someone to summon her.

“Earlier today in the study, I saw how especially afraid you were of the King of Qi. How does he treat you in private?”

She dared not answer, meeting his eyes in the mirror—eyes dark and deep as the sea, hiding surging waves in their depths.

His fingers slid along her shoulder, loosening her robes. Before she could cover herself, the bruises beneath were laid bare before his eyes.

Closing her eyes, she felt his fingertips pause slightly, then press gently over the wounds.

A hiss of pain escaped her lips. In the mirror, his eyelids lowered, casting a shadow of gloom.

He said, “If you do not wish to go, I shall send the attendants away.”

The King of Qi had summoned her—how could she refuse? Yet in that instant, she felt frozen as he turned and ordered her personal maid to dismiss them.

The attendants sent to fetch her were turned away on the excuse that Lady Le was unwell. In the vast hall, only she and he remained.

Seated in darkness, half his face concealed in shadow, his words were gentle yet pressed relentlessly: how exactly did the King treat her in private?

She spoke the truth. After hearing her, he murmured softly, “Elder Brother understands now.”

Though spoken lightly, her hands clenched slowly in her lap—for it was the same tone he once used in childhood, when she moved into his courtyard yet still suffered bullying from other family members.

Outside, rain poured down, the water clock dripping steadily.

After she finished bathing, he stayed to talk with her for a long time, tucking her in carefully before rising to leave.

Suddenly, from beneath the covers, her hand shot out and caught him.

He turned back. “What is it?”

In the dim candlelight, she lay in the shadow he cast, looking up at him and speaking softly: “Elder Brother, do you know that for all these years I have been unable to sleep well, relying on calming incense to drift off? Only tonight, with Elder Brother here, I feel no such torment.”

Her fingers tightened slightly, pulling him back to the bed.

In the darkness, she heard the rapid pounding of her own heart. “Elder Brother, will you stay with me?”

In childhood, when she feared thunderstorms, she too had knocked on his door clutching her pillow, asking if she could sleep beside him. But now, years later, both had grown up; such things were no longer proper—yet she still asked.

His gentle gaze lowered to her. In this silent tug-of-war, her heart beat like a drum; she reached again to tug at his sleeve.

He lay down beside her, and at once she embraced him, curling into his arms.

He needed do nothing more—simply being there was enough.

The rainy night was damp and chill, yet they clung to each other for warmth.

Soon, she would learn what his words—“Elder Brother understands now”—truly meant.

Not long after, Qi Yan faked his death, and when the four nations convened for a summit, Jiang Qi returned. Shortly thereafter, her brother gave Jiang Qi a poison—not deadly to most, but for Jiang Qi, who suffered from severe migraines, it triggered unbearable agony and delirium.

On the day of his attack, her brother stood before the bed, watching the man writhe in anguish and scream for help. Jiang Qi reached for him, begging him to summon a physician. Her brother claimed he would—and yet, glancing back at her, his gaze lingered faintly.

On the journey to the summit, she had once bared her wounds to him, showing the injuries upon her body.

Something between them had shifted.

In truth, it had long since changed. She had loved him since childhood; it was he who had accompanied her through her darkest days. Upon reuniting, those feelings had grown rampant, impossible to restrain.

With the palace attendants dismissed, he stepped forward, pressing her against the screen, kissing her fiercely.

So, he too had loved her all along.

Together, they plotted rebellion against the King of Qi, conducting their illicit affair throughout the palace—within the study, amidst the rock gardens, in her private chambers… Their audacity only grew.

The court was purged and filled with her brother’s loyalists. Under his influence, Qi dispatched troops to aid Qi Yan’s campaign against the false Jin. Before long, she discovered she was pregnant.

When word arrived from the front lines of Qi Yan’s victory, she finally seized the chance to poison Jiang Qi. She had not told her brother beforehand. When Jiang Qi entered that day, her brother was still playing the zither for her and their unborn child.

She personally forced the bowl of poison upon Jiang Qi, watched him collapse in a pool of blood, and, unable to vent her hatred, stabbed him repeatedly.

Years of accumulated resentment were avenged in a single day—yet she felt no exhilaration, only an aching emptiness.

When her hand rested upon her slightly rounded belly, sensing the small, vibrant life growing there, she finally felt as though she had escaped the Qi Palace.

Sunlight streamed through the window, bringing her a sense of rebirth.

In the dream, it all felt like yesterday. Le Shu opened her eyes; outside the tent came laughter, wind chimes ringing softly in the breeze.

Beside her, the child and Zuo Ying were gone. She sat up, seeing her brother holding their child in the afternoon sunlight.

Lifting the curtain, Zuo Ying heard her stir and returned with the baby, sitting at her bedside. “You’re awake. Did you sleep well?”

Le Shu looked at his face and smiled. “Well enough. I dreamed again of my days in the Qi Palace.”

His smile faltered slightly. “Ah Shu.”

Le Shu said, “But this time, I didn’t dream of others—I dreamed of Elder Brother. With him there, I was no longer afraid.”

He chuckled softly, brushing a kiss against her brow. Le Shu closed her eyes, feeling as though her heart, too, had been kissed.

Though the past had scarred her, leaving wounds slow to heal, she believed that with time, those wounds would mend.

So long as he was with her.

“It’s still early. You can rest a while longer. Later, we’ll go see the lanterns together.”

She murmured assent. As Zuo Ying tucked the quilt around her, she reached out to grasp his wrist—just as she had done in childhood, when she refused to nap unless he stayed with her.

Pale golden light filtered through gauzy curtains, swaying gently in the breeze.

Lowering his gaze to the infant in his arms, he extended his finger toward the tiny hand, letting their fingertips meet.

This was new life—his and hers, their shared future.

(End of Zuo Ying and Le Shu’s Extra Story)

The side story of Zuo Ying and Le Shu draws to a close.

This tale was never about one rescuing the other—it was about two souls saving each other.

Their story as a couple runs through Chapters 38 (first meeting, when Qi Yan used Zuo Ying’s sister to persuade him to become his strategist), 94, 102, 111, and 112.

Next to be written:

① The extra story of Princess Ji Qin and Qi Yan’s father, including glimpses of Qi Yan’s childhood.

② The story of Wei Zhen’s parents, the King and Queen of Wei, and young Wei Zhen—followed by her first meeting with young Qi Yan (a parallel world tale). Although they are childhood sweethearts, the story will begin when they are about eight years old rather than earlier.

¹ “奴” (nú) literally means “slave,” a mark of ownership branding someone as property.
² “囚” (qiú) literally means “prisoner,” often used to denote criminal status.
³ Aloeswood (水沉香) is a rare, fragrant wood used in high-end incense, known for its subtle yet warm scent, signifying refinement.