“I really am not fit to be emperor.” Li Jianhong is telling Li Yanqiu, who’s standing in the corridor playing with a bird.
“Though Mu Kuangda can be self-important due to how powerful he is at court,” Li Yanqiu coughs several times and replies, “it’s not as though he does not know himself, and his experience has grown with age. Sometimes his words are not entirely without merit.”
“Surely it’s far more than ‘without merit’? Everything he said is correct. But I can’t do it.”
“When is the ascension ceremony?”
“Tomorrow.”
“When does the army march?”
“Tomorrow,” Li Jianhong gives him the same answer.
“Why don’t I go? I haven’t met my nephew yet.”
Li Jianhong shakes his head. “Stay put and rest up.”
“My illness has taken a good turn lately. Thanks to you, the princess-consort and I finally don’t have to spend all day picking at each other anymore.”
Li Jianhong shakes his head, and smiling helplessly, he turns to go.
The next day, dressed from head to toe in military attire, Li Jianhong ascends the altar, makes offerings to the heavens, and accedes to the throne with the ritual the empire uses during an invasion to imply that before the northern part of their homeland is recovered they cannot conduct a grand ceremony. Afterwards, he leads the troops through the northwest road, to exit through Hulaoguan2 to face the Mongol army.
At this moment, Shangjing is in its fifth day of resisting the invasion. The city walls are crumbling, and the Mongol army has set fires on the grass plains outside the city. Thick smoke and raging blaze roll on across the plains, leaving the entire city under a dark shroud that makes it feel like an endless night.
Last year’s surprise attack left a deep impression on Shangjing and had taught them quite the lesson. This time, they have ample rations, and yet the Mongol army that has returned is no longer the scant few divisions that came last year. The first round of attack was just their advance troops, and by today the reinforcements that have been arriving gradually have swelled their numbers to nearly one hundred thousand.
Xianbei slaves are pulling siege engines to the barren, burnt-out plains outside the city. The amount of troops Yelü Dashi had on hand has already been diminished to less than ten thousand. Giant boulders are flying into the city in quick succession, focusing on the southern city gate. The wall has beendamaged and repaired, then repaired and damaged again; the city guard resists the enemy desperately, filling the gaps in the walls with their mortal shells. It is more than six hours before they manage to push the Mongol forces back outside the city.
If they don’t get any more reinforcements, Shangjing will fall within ten days.
The city is enveloped in fear; Duan Ling finally finds Helian Bo and Cai Yan.
“Leave,” Helian Bo sums it up briefly with one word to Duan Ling.
“Which way?” Duan Ling opens the map. “The Mongol army is all over the place.”
The map is already covered in drawn circles. Cai Yan says, “You can’t even get out of the city gate.”
Last night someone abandoned their family and valuables, wanting to sneak out, but they were caught by the Mongol army who cut off his head and hung his headless body on a siege engine. The morale in Shangjing has dropped so low it’s all the way down at the bottom of a ravine.
“Why aren’t reinforcements here yet?” Duan Ling asks.
The three of them look at each other, at a complete loss. Inside the Viburnum, someone walks by them.
“Don’t go, die!” Helian Bo says angrily at Duan Ling.
“Even if we go we’d die!” Duan Ling replies, “The only way we’d have a chance to escape is if they start fighting outside!”
“Wait!” Helian Bo says.
Cai Yan and Duan Ling look at each other. Duan Ling asks, “Where do we go after we get out?”
“My home,” Helian Bo says.
Duan Ling understands now. Helian Bo wants to take them back to Xiliang with him.
“I’m not leaving.” Cai Yan says, “I have nowhere to run to. Both my dad and my older brother have died for Great Liao. No matter where I run to, I’ll only be a wretched hopeless stray cur.”
Helian Bo stares at Cai Yan, and after a long time, he nods to show that he understands.
“You, go,” Helian Bo says to Duan Ling.
“I can’t go. I’m sorry, Helian.”
Helian Bo looks at him questioningly.
“I’m waiting for someone.”
Helian Bo gives him a nod, and doesn’t try to insist anymore. He turns to leave. Duan Ling catches up to him. “When are you leaving? I’ll help you get out.”
Helian Bo waves to let him know he won’t need to before turning and squeezing Duan Ling in a tight hug. He glances at Cai Yan, then quickly leaves the Viburnum.
Cai Yan breathes out a sigh; the two of them follow the departing Helian Bo with their eyes. Duan Ling says to Cai Yan, “Stay here for now, we can look after each other.”
“No thanks. I have to go home and keep my brother company.”
Duan Ling can do nothing but let it go. All his friends are gone and it sounds like the city is under attack again. Duan Ling is already numb at the news that keeps coming. Over these past few days he often heard one moment that the city’s fallen, then in another he’d hear that the Mongol army has made their way into the city. They’ve become hardened to the calamity outside and simply go on living, each to their own.
“The madam would like to see you,” Ding Zhi whispers as she walks by Duan Ling.
Tomorrow will be the seventh of the seventh month, and there are all kinds of pastries and sweets arranged in the parlour. Duan Ling enters the room. Xunchun is here, wiping down a sword. Ding Zhi backs out of the room, closing the door behind her.
“This is my sword,” Xunchun says.
“Zhanshanhai,” Duan Ling replies.
Xunchun looks slightly surprised. Eyes on Duan Ling, she nods. “It has been a long time since I’ve used a sword. Before my master’s wife died, I made a vow before her that in this lifetime, I would never kill anyone again.”
“Is the city going to fall?”
“I’m afraid they won’t be able to hold it.” Xunchun breathes out a light sigh. “From what we heard through messages that got through the Zhongjing road, the reinforcements Yelü Zongzhen dispatched had been intercepted by the Tangut. They’re delayed.”
Duan Ling is startled. Xunchun continues, “The Mongolians and the Tangut must have secretly come to an agreement. After this battle Xiliang will break away from the Liao empire’s control and regain their independence.”
Duan Ling asks at once, “What about my dad?”
“His Majesty has already acceded the throne, and on the day of the ascension, he started his march towards Shangjing via the western road. Right now, a sudden reinforcement of troops from Southern Chen has become Yelü Dashi’s only hope.”
A dragon has been carved on the dazzling edge of the blade. “The imperial family bestowed my martial arts school this sword four hundred years ago. I will of course protect Your Highness. The Mongol army has no doubt received news that reinforcements are coming from the south; their offensive will be fiercest over these next two days. I envision two ways this can go. If Yelü Dashi can hold on, then it won’t matter.”
“But if he can’t hold on, then the Viburnum will defend Your Highness to the last, help you escape from Shangjing and cover you so that you can rendezvous with His Hajesty.”
“That won’t happen. Dad will definitely come for me.”
“Exactly. Please do not trust anyone, Your Highness. The messenger Yelü Zongzhen dispatched has even asked the Northern Prince to deliver you to Zhongjing, but judging from the current situation it’s far too dangerous.”
“I got it.” He knows Xunchun means he shouldn’t leave with the Helians, and he shouldn’t let Yelü Zongzhen take him from here either. He should remain in the city, and if anything should happen, it’s still under control.
Beneath Hulaoguan, before Li Jianhong even manages to get through the pass, his scouts found Xiliang soldiers lying in wait hoping to stall him, to keep him behind Hulao Pass. But Li Jianhong splits his forced march into three divisions, surrounding the Xiliang army by their flanks, and the Xiliang army is routed by his surprise attack.
Duan Ling knows his father isn’t even six hundred miles away right now, and yet tonight is also the most critical night for Shangjing.
At an hour past midnight, there comes a distant loud boom followed by the clamour of soldiers and the frantic cries of commoners. They’ve all gotten used to being woken up in the middle of the night, but this time it sounds far more serious than all the times before.
Dong … dong … dong …
It’s the sound of a gong. It signals their own side’s retreat.
For the past several days Duan Ling has been sleeping with his clothes on; whenever he hears any noise he’ll grab his bow and sword, roll out of bed, and dash outside. The fires from the southern district have stained most of the sky a fiery red.
The Mongol army has charged into the city!
On the night of the sixth day of the seventh month, the Mongolians receive another round of reinforcements and launch a full attack. Realising that it’ll be impossible to defend their position, Yelü Dashi takes his troops outside the city to meet the enemy. Beneath the city walls, they meet in a desperate bloodbath.
To accompany the nearly despairing sound of the gong, countless canisters of burning oil are thrown into the city of Shangjing like flaming meteors at the horizon!
Shooting stars wrapped in raging flames fall onto the ground, explode, and the fire spreads down the southern district like a bolt of unrolled silk, with wind helping it propagate towards the eastern and western districts. Shangjing has already become a sea of flames; blood-curdling screams and howls of grief cut through waves of thick black smoke. It is like hell on earth.
Several Khitan soldiers dash into the Viburnum. Sword in hand, Duan Ling steps in front of them in the courtyard and howls, “What are you doing?! Get out, the lot of you!”
These soldiers are obviously deserters, covered in blood and grime; they stare at Duan Ling, panting. All around them one can hear gears start to turn and all the girls come out with heavy crossbows, pointing them at the deserters.
The deserters eventually back out, but just as they make it outside the gates they’re shot to death by a mounted soldier galloping their way. Soon, a personal bodyguard from the northern administration covered in the stench of burnt things hurriedly gets off the horse. “Where is Madam Xunchun?”
Ding Zhi puts down her weapon and takes him inside. Not long after, while the bodyguard is still waiting, Xunchun comes out briskly to find Duan Ling out in the courtyard, washing his face. “Your Highness, Yelü Dashi’s old injuries have relapsed, and after he headed out of the city today with his army, he’s been wounded again. Now that he’s back in the city, he’d like to meet with you. I declined the invitation.”
“How is the city gate?” Duan Ling asks.
Xunchun shakes her head lightly. “It hasn’t fallen yet. The Helian family escaped successfully. In order to help them escape, Yelü Dashi risked leaving the city and meeting the enemy on the battlefield. His health has been deteriorating ever since he got shot and fell off his horse last year. Do you want to see him? If you do, I’ll get a carriage ready for you right now.”
Duan Ling doesn’t know why Yelü Dashi wants to see him; perhaps it’s because he’s realised who Duan Ling is, or perhaps Yelü Zongzhen especially instructed him to do so … but the look on Xunchun’s face doesn’t offer Yelü Dashi’s condition much hope. If he succumbs to his injuries, Shangjing will fall completely.
At this point in time, Duan Ling must go see him. If Yelü Dashi dies, he’ll have to come back and inform the Viburnum so they can escape unscathed.
In the end, Duan Ling acquiesce with a nod. Xunchun makes the arrangements and before he leaves, she reminds him, “Your Highness mustn’t tarry there.”
The seventh of the seventh month arrives in Shangjing; the sky is only faintly brightening, and the city is so stuffy that it makes one extremely uncomfortable, like being inside a giant steamer. The southern district is still burning. Speedily the carriage passes through several streets to stop in front of the Northern Prince’s estate. The courtyard is crowded with waiting people.
The bodyguard quickly takes Duan Ling inside the room. He can hear violent coughing. Several maids and the princess-consort are looking after Yelü Dashi, and within the room are some of his trusted aides.
Duan Ling’s heart skips a beat; this is a scene of someone handing down his last words. The bodyguard says, “Your Highness, the one you wanted to see is here.”
“Everyone else … stand down,” Yelü Dashi says.
Everyone else withdraws, leaving Duan Ling in the room.
“You … come over here and let me look at you.”
Duan Ling steps a bit closer and meets Yelü Dashi’s eyes. There’s a bloody hole in Yelü Dashi’s shoulder, covered with bandages. "Your Highness?’
Yelü Dashi raises one hand, just a little bit. Duan Ling says to him at once, “Your Highness, don’t speak.”
As he finishes saying those words, Duan Ling presses his fingers to Yelü Dashi’s pulse and observes him again. He sees that the moment Yelü Dashi tries to speak, blood foams at his mouth, and Duan Ling grabs a wet cloth to wipe it for him. From this he deduces that Yelü Dashi has had a collision on the battlefield, perhaps he was even trampled by a horse. His injuries are internal; even though there aren’t any large wounds on the outside of his body, his spleen, lungs, and liver are all hemorrhaging. There is no longer any way to save him.
“It’s you. Is it … you.”
Duan Ling stares at him in silence.
Yelü Dashi says disjointedly, “That night, with His Majesty … in the Viburnum … after the drinking, I saw your shadow … on the screen … the more I thought about it … the more … I felt that, you …”
Duan Ling feels exceedingly complicated. “It is me, Your Highness.”
“Your father has indeed … not deceived me. You … really … are still … here. I know … your father … will surely come … tell him … look out … that someone … someone … betray …”
Duan Ling is breathing hard, his heart beating out of his chest.
Yelü Dashi stares at Duan Ling, and his mouth is slightly open. There is a kind of hope to his expression, as though he wants to ask Duan Ling where Li Jianhong is, or as though he wants to tell him something. Duan Ling knows that Yelü Dashi is in his final moments, and he moves closer. "Your Highness?’
However, Yelü Dashi starts to choke on the bloody foam, and before he manages to say anything more, he begins to cough violently. Outside, the princess-consort rushes in in a panic with the doctor. She yells, “Get out! All of you, get out!”
The bodyguards hastily grab Duan Ling and half carry him out the door. Before he can ask, the room erupts in tears and wailing. Yelü Dashi is dead.
The estate falls into pandemonium. No one cares what Duan Ling is doing anymore. The more Duan Ling thinks about it, the more apprehensive he grows. Quickly coming out of the estate, he boards the carriage and orders, “Hurry back to the Viburnum!”
The carriage turns around and gallops into the street. Duan Ling leans back in the seat, closing his eyes to ponder what happened earlier with a deep furrow between his brows. He keeps thinking that Yelü Dashi wanted to say something else, and his expression seemed like he wanted to remind Duan Ling to be careful.
The sound of fighting seeps through the walls of the carriage as the Mongol army turns their attention to the western gate. The carriage changes direction, and Duan Ling comes to himself. He opens the curtain to look outside, and realises that the carriage isn’t heading towards the Viburnum at all but heading towards the northern gate. Duan Ling is suddenly on guard, but he dares not speak lest the coachman notices. Now that he thinks about it, since he left the prince’s estate and boarded the carriage, the coachman hasn’t said a word — not even ‘gup’.
But when he came out of the Viburnum earlier the coachman had clearly said something before! The only explanation is that while waiting outside the estate, someone else took his place!
Duan Ling remains quiet, and then suddenly jumps out of the carriage. The carriage stops, and the coachman immediately leaps off to chase after Duan Ling, but Duan Ling is prepared for this and dodges into an alley. When he comes out again he takes a shortcut, charging into the flames and smoke with this sleeve over his nose.
The coachman has lost him. He stops, and slowly removes his conical hat. He stands there thinking for a moment before turning around to catch up to him at the Viburnum.
I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎
Hulaoguan, or Hulao Pass, has some interesting history. It’s located in Henan province. ↩︎
“I really am not fit to be emperor.” Li Jianhong is telling Li Yanqiu, who’s standing in the corridor playing with a bird.
“Though Mu Kuangda can be self-important due to how powerful he is at court,” Li Yanqiu coughs several times and replies, “it’s not as though he does not know himself, and his experience has grown with age. Sometimes his words are not entirely without merit.”
“Surely it’s far more than ‘without merit’? Everything he said is correct. But I can’t do it.”
“When is the ascension ceremony?”
“Tomorrow.”
“When does the army march?”
“Tomorrow,” Li Jianhong gives him the same answer.
“Why don’t I go? I haven’t met my nephew yet.”
Li Jianhong shakes his head. “Stay put and rest up.”
“My illness has taken a good turn lately. Thanks to you, the princess-consort and I finally don’t have to spend all day picking at each other anymore.”
Li Jianhong shakes his head, and smiling helplessly, he turns to go.
The next day, dressed from head to toe in military attire, Li Jianhong ascends the altar, makes offerings to the heavens, and accedes to the throne with the ritual the empire uses during an invasion to imply that before the northern part of their homeland is recovered they cannot conduct a grand ceremony. Afterwards, he leads the troops through the northwest road, to exit through Hulaoguan2 to face the Mongol army.
At this moment, Shangjing is in its fifth day of resisting the invasion. The city walls are crumbling, and the Mongol army has set fires on the grass plains outside the city. Thick smoke and raging blaze roll on across the plains, leaving the entire city under a dark shroud that makes it feel like an endless night.
Last year’s surprise attack left a deep impression on Shangjing and had taught them quite the lesson. This time, they have ample rations, and yet the Mongol army that has returned is no longer the scant few divisions that came last year. The first round of attack was just their advance troops, and by today the reinforcements that have been arriving gradually have swelled their numbers to nearly one hundred thousand.
Xianbei slaves are pulling siege engines to the barren, burnt-out plains outside the city. The amount of troops Yelü Dashi had on hand has already been diminished to less than ten thousand. Giant boulders are flying into the city in quick succession, focusing on the southern city gate. The wall has beendamaged and repaired, then repaired and damaged again; the city guard resists the enemy desperately, filling the gaps in the walls with their mortal shells. It is more than six hours before they manage to push the Mongol forces back outside the city.
If they don’t get any more reinforcements, Shangjing will fall within ten days.
The city is enveloped in fear; Duan Ling finally finds Helian Bo and Cai Yan.
“Leave,” Helian Bo sums it up briefly with one word to Duan Ling.
“Which way?” Duan Ling opens the map. “The Mongol army is all over the place.”
The map is already covered in drawn circles. Cai Yan says, “You can’t even get out of the city gate.”
Last night someone abandoned their family and valuables, wanting to sneak out, but they were caught by the Mongol army who cut off his head and hung his headless body on a siege engine. The morale in Shangjing has dropped so low it’s all the way down at the bottom of a ravine.
“Why aren’t reinforcements here yet?” Duan Ling asks.
The three of them look at each other, at a complete loss. Inside the Viburnum, someone walks by them.
“Don’t go, die!” Helian Bo says angrily at Duan Ling.
“Even if we go we’d die!” Duan Ling replies, “The only way we’d have a chance to escape is if they start fighting outside!”
“Wait!” Helian Bo says.
Cai Yan and Duan Ling look at each other. Duan Ling asks, “Where do we go after we get out?”
“My home,” Helian Bo says.
Duan Ling understands now. Helian Bo wants to take them back to Xiliang with him.
“I’m not leaving.” Cai Yan says, “I have nowhere to run to. Both my dad and my older brother have died for Great Liao. No matter where I run to, I’ll only be a wretched hopeless stray cur.”
Helian Bo stares at Cai Yan, and after a long time, he nods to show that he understands.
“You, go,” Helian Bo says to Duan Ling.
“I can’t go. I’m sorry, Helian.”
Helian Bo looks at him questioningly.
“I’m waiting for someone.”
Helian Bo gives him a nod, and doesn’t try to insist anymore. He turns to leave. Duan Ling catches up to him. “When are you leaving? I’ll help you get out.”
Helian Bo waves to let him know he won’t need to before turning and squeezing Duan Ling in a tight hug. He glances at Cai Yan, then quickly leaves the Viburnum.
Cai Yan breathes out a sigh; the two of them follow the departing Helian Bo with their eyes. Duan Ling says to Cai Yan, “Stay here for now, we can look after each other.”
“No thanks. I have to go home and keep my brother company.”
Duan Ling can do nothing but let it go. All his friends are gone and it sounds like the city is under attack again. Duan Ling is already numb at the news that keeps coming. Over these past few days he often heard one moment that the city’s fallen, then in another he’d hear that the Mongol army has made their way into the city. They’ve become hardened to the calamity outside and simply go on living, each to their own.
“The madam would like to see you,” Ding Zhi whispers as she walks by Duan Ling.
Tomorrow will be the seventh of the seventh month, and there are all kinds of pastries and sweets arranged in the parlour. Duan Ling enters the room. Xunchun is here, wiping down a sword. Ding Zhi backs out of the room, closing the door behind her.
“This is my sword,” Xunchun says.
“Zhanshanhai,” Duan Ling replies.
Xunchun looks slightly surprised. Eyes on Duan Ling, she nods. “It has been a long time since I’ve used a sword. Before my master’s wife died, I made a vow before her that in this lifetime, I would never kill anyone again.”
“Is the city going to fall?”
“I’m afraid they won’t be able to hold it.” Xunchun breathes out a light sigh. “From what we heard through messages that got through the Zhongjing road, the reinforcements Yelü Zongzhen dispatched had been intercepted by the Tangut. They’re delayed.”
Duan Ling is startled. Xunchun continues, “The Mongolians and the Tangut must have secretly come to an agreement. After this battle Xiliang will break away from the Liao empire’s control and regain their independence.”
Duan Ling asks at once, “What about my dad?”
“His Majesty has already acceded the throne, and on the day of the ascension, he started his march towards Shangjing via the western road. Right now, a sudden reinforcement of troops from Southern Chen has become Yelü Dashi’s only hope.”
A dragon has been carved on the dazzling edge of the blade. “The imperial family bestowed my martial arts school this sword four hundred years ago. I will of course protect Your Highness. The Mongol army has no doubt received news that reinforcements are coming from the south; their offensive will be fiercest over these next two days. I envision two ways this can go. If Yelü Dashi can hold on, then it won’t matter.”
“But if he can’t hold on, then the Viburnum will defend Your Highness to the last, help you escape from Shangjing and cover you so that you can rendezvous with His Hajesty.”
“That won’t happen. Dad will definitely come for me.”
“Exactly. Please do not trust anyone, Your Highness. The messenger Yelü Zongzhen dispatched has even asked the Northern Prince to deliver you to Zhongjing, but judging from the current situation it’s far too dangerous.”
“I got it.” He knows Xunchun means he shouldn’t leave with the Helians, and he shouldn’t let Yelü Zongzhen take him from here either. He should remain in the city, and if anything should happen, it’s still under control.
Beneath Hulaoguan, before Li Jianhong even manages to get through the pass, his scouts found Xiliang soldiers lying in wait hoping to stall him, to keep him behind Hulao Pass. But Li Jianhong splits his forced march into three divisions, surrounding the Xiliang army by their flanks, and the Xiliang army is routed by his surprise attack.
Duan Ling knows his father isn’t even six hundred miles away right now, and yet tonight is also the most critical night for Shangjing.
At an hour past midnight, there comes a distant loud boom followed by the clamour of soldiers and the frantic cries of commoners. They’ve all gotten used to being woken up in the middle of the night, but this time it sounds far more serious than all the times before.
Dong … dong … dong …
It’s the sound of a gong. It signals their own side’s retreat.
For the past several days Duan Ling has been sleeping with his clothes on; whenever he hears any noise he’ll grab his bow and sword, roll out of bed, and dash outside. The fires from the southern district have stained most of the sky a fiery red.
The Mongol army has charged into the city!
On the night of the sixth day of the seventh month, the Mongolians receive another round of reinforcements and launch a full attack. Realising that it’ll be impossible to defend their position, Yelü Dashi takes his troops outside the city to meet the enemy. Beneath the city walls, they meet in a desperate bloodbath.
To accompany the nearly despairing sound of the gong, countless canisters of burning oil are thrown into the city of Shangjing like flaming meteors at the horizon!
Shooting stars wrapped in raging flames fall onto the ground, explode, and the fire spreads down the southern district like a bolt of unrolled silk, with wind helping it propagate towards the eastern and western districts. Shangjing has already become a sea of flames; blood-curdling screams and howls of grief cut through waves of thick black smoke. It is like hell on earth.
Several Khitan soldiers dash into the Viburnum. Sword in hand, Duan Ling steps in front of them in the courtyard and howls, “What are you doing?! Get out, the lot of you!”
These soldiers are obviously deserters, covered in blood and grime; they stare at Duan Ling, panting. All around them one can hear gears start to turn and all the girls come out with heavy crossbows, pointing them at the deserters.
The deserters eventually back out, but just as they make it outside the gates they’re shot to death by a mounted soldier galloping their way. Soon, a personal bodyguard from the northern administration covered in the stench of burnt things hurriedly gets off the horse. “Where is Madam Xunchun?”
Ding Zhi puts down her weapon and takes him inside. Not long after, while the bodyguard is still waiting, Xunchun comes out briskly to find Duan Ling out in the courtyard, washing his face. “Your Highness, Yelü Dashi’s old injuries have relapsed, and after he headed out of the city today with his army, he’s been wounded again. Now that he’s back in the city, he’d like to meet with you. I declined the invitation.”
“How is the city gate?” Duan Ling asks.
Xunchun shakes her head lightly. “It hasn’t fallen yet. The Helian family escaped successfully. In order to help them escape, Yelü Dashi risked leaving the city and meeting the enemy on the battlefield. His health has been deteriorating ever since he got shot and fell off his horse last year. Do you want to see him? If you do, I’ll get a carriage ready for you right now.”
Duan Ling doesn’t know why Yelü Dashi wants to see him; perhaps it’s because he’s realised who Duan Ling is, or perhaps Yelü Zongzhen especially instructed him to do so … but the look on Xunchun’s face doesn’t offer Yelü Dashi’s condition much hope. If he succumbs to his injuries, Shangjing will fall completely.
At this point in time, Duan Ling must go see him. If Yelü Dashi dies, he’ll have to come back and inform the Viburnum so they can escape unscathed.
In the end, Duan Ling acquiesce with a nod. Xunchun makes the arrangements and before he leaves, she reminds him, “Your Highness mustn’t tarry there.”
The seventh of the seventh month arrives in Shangjing; the sky is only faintly brightening, and the city is so stuffy that it makes one extremely uncomfortable, like being inside a giant steamer. The southern district is still burning. Speedily the carriage passes through several streets to stop in front of the Northern Prince’s estate. The courtyard is crowded with waiting people.
The bodyguard quickly takes Duan Ling inside the room. He can hear violent coughing. Several maids and the princess-consort are looking after Yelü Dashi, and within the room are some of his trusted aides.
Duan Ling’s heart skips a beat; this is a scene of someone handing down his last words. The bodyguard says, “Your Highness, the one you wanted to see is here.”
“Everyone else … stand down,” Yelü Dashi says.
Everyone else withdraws, leaving Duan Ling in the room.
“You … come over here and let me look at you.”
Duan Ling steps a bit closer and meets Yelü Dashi’s eyes. There’s a bloody hole in Yelü Dashi’s shoulder, covered with bandages. "Your Highness?’
Yelü Dashi raises one hand, just a little bit. Duan Ling says to him at once, “Your Highness, don’t speak.”
As he finishes saying those words, Duan Ling presses his fingers to Yelü Dashi’s pulse and observes him again. He sees that the moment Yelü Dashi tries to speak, blood foams at his mouth, and Duan Ling grabs a wet cloth to wipe it for him. From this he deduces that Yelü Dashi has had a collision on the battlefield, perhaps he was even trampled by a horse. His injuries are internal; even though there aren’t any large wounds on the outside of his body, his spleen, lungs, and liver are all hemorrhaging. There is no longer any way to save him.
“It’s you. Is it … you.”
Duan Ling stares at him in silence.
Yelü Dashi says disjointedly, “That night, with His Majesty … in the Viburnum … after the drinking, I saw your shadow … on the screen … the more I thought about it … the more … I felt that, you …”
Duan Ling feels exceedingly complicated. “It is me, Your Highness.”
“Your father has indeed … not deceived me. You … really … are still … here. I know … your father … will surely come … tell him … look out … that someone … someone … betray …”
Duan Ling is breathing hard, his heart beating out of his chest.
Yelü Dashi stares at Duan Ling, and his mouth is slightly open. There is a kind of hope to his expression, as though he wants to ask Duan Ling where Li Jianhong is, or as though he wants to tell him something. Duan Ling knows that Yelü Dashi is in his final moments, and he moves closer. "Your Highness?’
However, Yelü Dashi starts to choke on the bloody foam, and before he manages to say anything more, he begins to cough violently. Outside, the princess-consort rushes in in a panic with the doctor. She yells, “Get out! All of you, get out!”
The bodyguards hastily grab Duan Ling and half carry him out the door. Before he can ask, the room erupts in tears and wailing. Yelü Dashi is dead.
The estate falls into pandemonium. No one cares what Duan Ling is doing anymore. The more Duan Ling thinks about it, the more apprehensive he grows. Quickly coming out of the estate, he boards the carriage and orders, “Hurry back to the Viburnum!”
The carriage turns around and gallops into the street. Duan Ling leans back in the seat, closing his eyes to ponder what happened earlier with a deep furrow between his brows. He keeps thinking that Yelü Dashi wanted to say something else, and his expression seemed like he wanted to remind Duan Ling to be careful.
The sound of fighting seeps through the walls of the carriage as the Mongol army turns their attention to the western gate. The carriage changes direction, and Duan Ling comes to himself. He opens the curtain to look outside, and realises that the carriage isn’t heading towards the Viburnum at all but heading towards the northern gate. Duan Ling is suddenly on guard, but he dares not speak lest the coachman notices. Now that he thinks about it, since he left the prince’s estate and boarded the carriage, the coachman hasn’t said a word — not even ‘gup’.
But when he came out of the Viburnum earlier the coachman had clearly said something before! The only explanation is that while waiting outside the estate, someone else took his place!
Duan Ling remains quiet, and then suddenly jumps out of the carriage. The carriage stops, and the coachman immediately leaps off to chase after Duan Ling, but Duan Ling is prepared for this and dodges into an alley. When he comes out again he takes a shortcut, charging into the flames and smoke with this sleeve over his nose.
The coachman has lost him. He stops, and slowly removes his conical hat. He stands there thinking for a moment before turning around to catch up to him at the Viburnum.
I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎
Hulaoguan, or Hulao Pass, has some interesting history. It’s located in Henan province. ↩︎
