Chapter 118: Chapter 109: A Sovereign Emerges from Xiang
Since Amman expressed his willingness to follow Chu Yu, he was now one of her people. But he couldn’t continue to accompany them dressed in such ragged clothing—Chu Yu might not care, but Liu Ziyue would mind.
Zong Yue, very astutely sensing the situation, ordered a guard to take them with his token, to lead Amman back to the Princess Mansion for temporary arrangements. Amman stood in place, unwilling to leave, his eyes locked on Chu Yu: “Meat…”
Chu Yu rolled her eyes and said, “You follow our guard, go back to my mansion first, and someone will naturally cook meat for you to eat.” After speaking, she turned her head and instructed the guard, “After you take him back, tell the cook, as per my orders, to roast meat for him, let him eat his fill.”
That guard looked at Amman with envy and thought to himself that he didn’t even have such good treatment, then he kicked Amman’s leg: “Let’s go, barbarian.”
He kicked out with some resentment, but he hadn’t expected that as soon as his foot touched Amman’s leg, it was as if he had kicked a steel pillar, causing him pain so great that he hopped on his foot. Thus began another commotion, and only after much ado was Amman finally sent off so that they could continue with their outing for the day.
Following the stream into the mountains and crossing a small bridge, they came upon Lanting, also known as Liu Shang Pavilion, the very place where Wang Xizhi and other renowned scholars sipped wine and recited poetry, freely expressing their deep feelings.
...
In the mountains, much of the sunlight was blocked, and a cool breeze blew through. Chu Yu sat with Liu Ziyue in the pavilion, breathing in the fresh mountain air. Surrounding them, the bamboo forest released a faint fragrance. Liu Ziyue, feeling inspired, chanted, “Here are towering mountains and steep ridges, lush forests and tall bamboo; there is also a clear stream rushing forth, playing along both sides.” It was a line from the “Preface to the Orchid Pavilion Collection.”
The two of them sat on the edge of the pavilion. The Octagonal Pavilion wasn’t particularly splendid or exquisite—the railing was but knee-high, and the red paint on the pillars supporting the pavilion’s roof had flaked off to reveal the wood grain beneath. Yet, because of the site’s association with the story of Qu River wine-floating, the place would be remembered forever.
After reciting a couple of lines and feeling the tiredness of the journey come upon him, Liu Ziyue sat with his legs apart, one swinging outside the railing and the other inside. He rested his head on Chu Yu’s leg, and amidst the tranquil scenery, he fell into a deep sleep. Chu Yu looked down at Liu Ziyue, reaching out to brush off a small insect that had landed on his forehead.
Disturbed by Chu Yu’s touch, Liu Ziyue frowned and muttered something unclearly before closing his eyes again.
Chu Yu watched him calmly. Basically, it was only at times like this that the fierce and ruthless young Emperor seemed adorable. Asleep, he wouldn’t kill people at the drop of a hat, nor would he berate those around him with a violent temper or reveal that chillingly venomous look that could make one’s blood run cold.
And only at times like this did Chu Yu feel that this young man, who was only sixteen or seventeen this year, was, in fact, the biological brother of the body she inhabited. With his head resting on her leg, their touch conveyed an unspoken tenderness, and she could gaze at him without feelings of disgust or fear.
The warm breeze was so soporific that Chu Yu too leaned back against the pavilion pillar and began to doze with her eyes faintly closed.
It felt like she had only closed her eyes for a moment when she felt movement on her leg. Opening her eyes accordingly, she saw Liu Ziyue with his head pillowed on her leg, gazing steadily at her with his usually cruel and merciless narrow eyes now reflecting a soft nostalgia and warmth.
“What’s wrong?” Chu Yu, still not fully awake, reached out to touch his face instinctively, patting it, then pinched Liu Ziyue’s nose. After pinching, she immediately woke up alarmed: What had she just done? That nose belonged to the Emperor!
But Liu Ziyue wasn’t angry at Chu Yu’s gesture. He found a more comfortable position, turned over to half-lie on her lap, looked up at her, and murmured, “Sister, I feel like I’ve returned to our childhood.”
Childhood? That must be the real princess’s time. Afraid of revealing any inconsistencies, Chu Yu dared not say much and could only respond with an enquiring tone, “Hmm?”
Liu Ziyue slightly smiled, his face still filled with nostalgia: “When we were little, I would rest my head on your lap just like this, and we would sleep in the garden, enjoying the breeze. It was so comfortable then, and the other princes hardly cared about me. Only you, Sister, would play with me. When that wretched drunk wanted to punish me, it was you who pleaded on my behalf.”
While listening, Chu Yu nodded her head in understanding. So, Liu Ziyue and Shan Yin’s Princess had been close since childhood. But who was that wretched drunk? Someone who could punish the Crown Prince must be a teacher or the like.
Chu Yu would not know that the “wretched drunk” referred to the late Emperor Liu Jun, the father of Liu Ziyue and Shan Yin’s Princess. Liu Ziyue utterly despised this father of his, to the point where he would not even deign to call him “Father Emperor” or “the late Emperor,” instead referring to him by a physical flaw.
In contrast, just as much as Liu Ziyue despised his father, he felt a close bond and reliance on his sister. Although Chu Yu wasn’t yet sure what this closeness entailed, she vaguely understood that even if she were to ask Liu Ziyue for half the empire, he would probably consent.
The two conversed for a while, mostly Liu Ziyue reminiscing about some childhood matters, with Chu Yu interjecting with “Mm-hmm” during his pauses to show she was listening.
As they spoke, the crisp and childish voices of singers came from afar, as if a few children were singing something bright and delightful to hear.
Zong Yue heard this singing and thought to himself how there was another disturbance. He was about to have the children driven away when Liu Ziyue suddenly sat up, gesturing with his hand, saying, “Let them come.” He turned to Chu Yu, his mood uplifted, “Sister, do you remember the nursery rhyme you taught me when you were little?”
Chu Yu’s heart was in a flutter, yet her face remained composed as she smiled, “It’s been so long, how could I remember?”
Luckily, Liu Ziyue didn’t grow suspicious. He opened his mouth to sing, but after a few attempts, gave up and closed it: “I don’t remember it either.” But he quickly brightened, “I’ll call those kids over, let them sing for us.”
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The guards brought over four children, two boys and two girls, all around six or seven years old. The boys wore their hair in high ponytails and the girls had small buns atop their heads. They were dressed in simple, somewhat faded linen clothes and straw sandals, but all four were holding sweet pastry and fresh fruit, their faces smeared with what they were eating.
Liu Ziyue was in a good mood and didn’t mind the children’s lack of decorum in front of royal presence; he simply waved them over and asked, “What songs were you singing just now? They sounded nice. Sing one more time for me to hear.”
The four children looked at each other, all a bit frightened. They had just been singing but were brought over by two rather fierce older brothers, and now they were afraid to open their mouths.
Liu Ziyue glanced at Zong Yue with dissatisfaction, and the latter drew some coins from his embrace, bent down, and said to the children, “See this? This is money. With money, you can buy lots of tasty things. Sing well, just like you did just now, and I will give you money.” He grinned, eyes narrowed into slits, appearing amiable.
At the sight of money, the children’s eyes lit up. One of them, not caring that his face was still sticky with sugar, was the first to sing out. When he started, the other three children also began to sing. They sang as they bounced and twirled in rhythm, likely a children’s game, and because of their movement, their singing was not very clear or in unison, but their crisp and tender voices intertwined.
Liu Ziyue had been listening with a smile, but as he listened, his expression froze and his complexion turned an odd shade of ashen.
Chu Yu, noticing his change in demeanor, knew something was wrong. The children were singing with a regional accent, and she hadn’t paid close attention to the content previously, nor understood what they were singing. But now she had no time to listen carefully and quickly interrupted, “Stop! All of you, stop!” Liu Ziyue’s facial expression was so dreadful, the children must have sung something he didn’t want to hear.
Liu Ziyue’s mouth twitched expressionlessly, and he slowly said, “Yes, stop. I didn’t hear clearly just now. Stand in front of me and sing that nursery rhyme one by one, clear and loud, for me to hear.”
The innocent children did as told, and the four of them, each sang the same lyrics: “True Emperor, Fake Emperor, two emperors in the Imperial Palace, old Emperor, young Emperor, a star rises from Xiang.”
By the end, Chu Yu already felt a chill in her heart.
Liu Ziyue asked indifferently, “Where did you learn this nursery rhyme from?”
The four children looked at each other, and one of them replied, “It’s a song that everyone is singing, lots of people are singing it.”
Liu Ziyue glanced at Zong Yue, and emotionlessly uttered two words from his mouth: “Kill them.”