Cry of the Midnight Jackdaw

Chapter Eighty-two,

Nightmare

There were only a few words left in the later generations regarding Lan Shou Yi’s death.

《Past Jin》 writes, at first, Army Inspector Xiao Wen An had a decree, and Shou Yi made a complaint about it. Later on after the great defeat at Hu Fan Pass, Shou Yi discarded Feng Province and escaped about a hundred miles, and Wen An submitted a memorial over this matter, stating Shou Yi’s battle-shyness and defeat. In anger, [the Emperor] dispatched an imperial edict along with Wen An to punish the army, then on the twenty-fifth year of Feng De, the eleventh month on the fifteenth day, Wen An returned to the army. Shou Yi came out to welcome him, then Wen An announced the imperial decree, making Shou Yi cry when he heard it, and commit suicide. The soldiers all cried, with their sound shaking even the skies, that even the birds and beasts in the mountains all got startled.

When the readers got to here, they would mostly clap their hands and lament, to be shallowly written like this after several tens of years of blood and flesh- no matter how sturdy, frail, or startling or unyielding, all of it was crushed flat all the same, pressed onto a thin yellowed paper, allowing strangers to dip into dense ink, and strictly draw a rough outline of their lifetime, emotionlessly added into some bookshelf, the after being passed around a few times, to be tossed in a pile of old papers by people in the end.

Perhaps a hundred years later, when the past gets flipped out by someone, they would ruminate over his momentous lifetime again, lacquer and embellish it to create some fabricated legend, spoken by the storytellers of teahouses to earn a living.

However, the original story, in the end, would eternally be perished in the dust of history, nowhere to be found.

“Your Highness! General!” Qiu Jia Mu was beheaded by the rebellion army at Hu Fan Pass, so now it was up to another adjutant to pass on the word, that person respectfully bowed, and said, “The inspector is back.”

Since that day, Xiao Wen An went back to the palace to report to his duties, and now returned. Using this word, return, perhaps was not that suitable, He Xuan mockingly thought inside, this place originally did not welcome Xiao Wen An, return always carried some gentleness and homesickness that could not be rid of.

Lan Shou Yi’s face did not change, and nodded his head, “Your Highness, let us go.”

Xiao Wen An’s face was as haughty as usual, and seeing them come over, he bowed, “His Majesty has orders, hear ye.”

Many years later, He Xuan again recalled in that sunny afternoon, the winds blowing the face were not very cold, it carried the scent of the grasses and wood in the mountain, just slightly sour. His ears buzzed loudly, his eyes saw dazzling overlapping spots of light, he seemed like a wooden puppet that could not see or hear, stiffly creaking his limbs as it moved as the puppeteer in destiny wanted.

“I have lost, a crime, but even in death, I dare not cede.” Lan Shou Yi’s hairs were all white, but his back was straight like a brush, and his voice ringing.

He Xuan opened his mouth, he wanted to say something, but his throat seemed to be blocked with cotton that saw no end, smothering all his doubts, anger, and even persuasions, all in that narrow pathway, unable to go down, nor able to go up.

“This subject thanks for his Majesty’s kindness, if there is life beneath the springs[1], this subject will transform into a returning wind, and will lead the flag of the emperor’s army, and pacify battles against bandits. This subject has been born the dynasty’s general, the ghost of the dynasty in death, and will definitely bind grass as repayment in my next life.”

Before He Xuan could get up, he saw a sudden gust of wind pick up the fallen leaves from the branches, like a big snowstorm of withered yellow all over the skies, that snow would either be mingled with bits of bloodstains, like blood vessels from the withered leaves in the air instantly cut off by someone, squeezing out a few bits of congealed blood from the vessels.

He saw Xiao Wen An’s lips move, clearly he was so close, yet he could not hear what was said clearly.

Seemingly, the sunlight hit his body, yet he seemed like he was covered all over with snow, so cold he shivered. He recalled that year when Lan Shou Yi taught him martial arts, it also in this kind of sunny and bright winter afternoon. That year, Lan Shou Yi was still young, only wearing crude fabric, standing beside a wooden pillar, sternly demonstrating for him.

So strange, almost ten years had passed by, yet he could still remember the slightly black scruff Lan Shou Yi kept. All of a sudden, he also recalled when he was sixteen when he went to the north to fight Tu Jue along with Lan Shou Yi, he inadvertently got shot by the raining arrows, and had a fever while laying in the tent at night, and in a haze, he opened his eyes, Lan Shou Yi was keeping watch by his bed, clumsily fixing his blanket for him……

He Xuan suddenly felt a wave of dizziness, the green mountains all around all pressed down toward him, making it so narrow and tight he could not see a sliver of daylight.

“Your Highness, your Highness?” He Xuan suddenly came to, Adjutant An Qing passed the teacup in his hand to him, and said, “The tea will go cold.”

“Mm.” He Xuan vacantly nodded his head, up until the hot tea burned into his stomach all the way along the throat like a prairie fire, and his senses were then called awake by the boiling pain, He Xuan wearily kneaded his brows, and waved his hand, “No matter, step down.”

“Your Highness, if there is something, just call me.” The adjutant very carefully peeked at He Xuan, like confirming he would not suddenly go crazy, then very carefully went out the tent.

He Xuan laid on the bed with all his clothes on, and pulled the blanket over the top of his head, and turned his body towards the wall of the went and closed his eyes. Clearly it was just the evening, yet he felt especially fatigued. Just as he touched the pillow, drowsiness surged up like a tide in a blink of the eye.

“Father?” The inside of the tent was dark, the swaying candlelight illuminated He Heng’s face dimly and unclear. He Xuan flipped open the blanket to get up and bow, but when he lifted his head up, he suddenly saw He Heng’s hand hold a sword. The body of the sword was trickling with blood, still dripping downward drop by drop, winding all the way from the curtains to his bedside, forming into a beautiful and ominous river.

He turned startled inside, and heard He Heng speak with a hoarse throat, “Feng Province’s defeat, is your responsibility too.”

“What does Father want to do?”

He Heng strangely curled his lips, the bottom of his eyes were a blue and black, a pair of eyes gloomily stared at He Xuan, like a venomous snake hissing, “Beheading.”

Just as the words fell down, He Heng suddenly lifted up the sword in his hand, He Xuan felt like his neck went cold, and abruptly opened his eyes.

Just a nightmare.

He Xuan breathed a sigh of relief. He wiped his forehead, it slightly rose with a layer of cold sweat, rolling downwards, sliding along the forehead to his side hairs, and wetting the pillow cover.

Perhaps he always subconsciously felt, he and Father, would head towards that day where they meet each other with weapons. He Xuan closed his eyes, from that moment Mother left, perhaps it was destined to be this kind of result.

Mother, Mother! He Xuan suddenly opened his eyes, he suddenly recalled his Third Uncle who gave up literature to join the army, who was also beheaded due to a defeat, he remembered very clearly, that night, Mother cried for a very long time.

Like he got scared by his own thoughts, He Xuan blankly clenched the corner of the blanket, then what about Mother? Is Mother’s death, completely unrelated to Father?

In the reign of the previous emperor, the aristocratic families controlled the courts, the Xu family were high-ranking officials in every generation, just in the main branch alone, there were two people who ranked first in the imperial examinations, three prime ministers, even to be said reaching the highest ranks open to a subject, a greatly renown and honourable family. Though Mother was a daughter of a concubine in the Xu family, that year, she was favoured by Father, and very logically entered the palace. After the wedding, the two were very harmonious, deeply affectionate, with their story circulated widely at the time. But no one would have ever thought Mother would be so unfortunate, up until now when people mentioned the Xiao Yuan Empress, they would still sigh, saying, “How unfortunate to have died so early……”

And afterwards, the Xu family went on a decline[2], that now, even with someone as talented as Xu Yu Hang, he only got an worthless post. What if, what if Mother’s death, was something Father tacitly agreed to? Or maybe even one step further, something that Father incited?

He Xuan’s right hand clenched into a fist, slivers of blood densely climbed over his eyes like a spiderweb, and the cold sweat on his back long already soaked his inner robe, stickily hanging around, like some cold-blooded animal shedding its skin.