HCAW 132

Chapter 132: Flickering Light Behind a Hollow Screen

Long before this day, Emperor Bai had already met the youth named Fang Minsheng.

That day, the weather was clear and mild, jade grasses green and vivid. Two figures strolled beneath the trellises of the imperial gardens. One wore a round-collared robe embroidered with dragon motifs, his bearing bright and noble—he was the young emperor Ji Zhi; the other was white-haired and gaunt, tall and frost-hardened, with a severe countenance. This was the Tianfu Guard, who had served the imperial family since the previous emperor’s reign.

After walking a while, the Tianfu Guard suddenly sighed. “Your Majesty, I am old. My bones have withered. It’s time I find someone to take my place.”

Ji Zhi turned his eyes wide in protest. “Uncle, what are you saying! You’re one of Xian Mountain’s most dependable warriors. Without you, how could I ever contend with that sly fox Lianshan?”

The old man was silent for a while, gazing at the ancient trees and bamboo groves. At last, he said, “Lately, war has flared again at the borders. I fear that one day, I’ll fall on the battlefield. Beneath Lianshan is a general named Xing Tian—his prowess is unmatched. Even I might not survive a fight against him.” He sighed deeply. “I often wonder if I shouldn’t find a worthy youth to take my title and serve faithfully by Your Majesty’s side.”

Ji Zhi frowned. “That talk is ominous. I don’t want to hear it. Please don’t say more.”

“But if a successor must be chosen,” the Tianfu Guard said with a sly smile, “what kind of person does Your Majesty think would be fit?” Ji Zhi thought for a moment, then smiled back.

“If you insist on picking someone… pick someone young, close to my age. I’m in desperate need of a proper companion.”

The old guard burst into laughter. Despite being an emperor, Ji Zhi was still a youth at heart—playful and spirited.

“I once had a group of talented youths present themselves to Your Majesty and even had them compete in martial skills. But Your Majesty’s standards were too high—not a single one caught your eye. And now you want someone your age?”

“The ones you picked before were all half-baked, with no real skill and too much ambition. Loyalty that can be bought with money—how is that loyalty?”

“Your Majesty wants both talent and humility—old me is stumped!” the Tianfu Guard laughed again. When the laughter faded, he leaned in with a wink.

“But truth be told, Your Majesty—I’ve already found the right person.”

“You have? Then why haven’t you introduced him to me?”

“The time hasn’t come. His temperament still needs refining—and so does Your Majesty’s. He’ll need time to prove his loyalty. And you’ll need time to learn how to live alongside him.”

“When will that time come?”

The Tianfu Guard smiled. “Soon. Much sooner than Your Majesty expects.”

______

After a grueling war with Lianshan and the God of War, though some remnants still stirred, the flames of battle had largely subsided, and peace returned to Xian Mountain. Yet where there is no external threat, internal unrest often follows. The Xian Mountain Guards, while tending their wounds, also began competing in secret. Ji Zhi knew that rumors were spreading—many believed the Tianfu Guard would soon step down, and the other guards coveted his title, each plotting their next move.

Should the Tianfu Guard title be abolished, allowing all others to move up in rank? Or should a new Tianfu Guard be appointed? Ji Zhi knew his own desire to choose a bright young talent was difficult to realize. The youths were often inexperienced and boastful.

Autumn Hunt approached, and the guards grew restless. With no war at hand, they longed to show their prowess in the Emperor’s presence—to make their names known. On the day of the hunt, Ruyi Guard arrived in full gear, riding a dappled horse, holding a massive curved bow. With pride, she said to Ji Zhi, “Your Majesty, I don’t mean to boast, but when it comes to archery, none of the Xian Mountain Guards can match me. Today, I’ll surely win top honors!”

Ji Zhi smiled. “And what would you do with victory—seek promotion, higher pay?”

Ruyi Guard blushed and bounced like a bean. “I don’t care about that! I just mean—I shoot really well. Really well!”

The Xian Mountain Guards fanned out in pursuit, bringing no escorts. Each one was a force alone. A hundred imperial riders guarded the emperor. Soon, the thunder of bowstrings rang out—Ruyi Guard remained where she was, but a line of birds, foxes, and rabbits already lay at her feet, like a blanket of trophies.

Ji Zhi praised her. “Not a single shot missed!” Ruyi Guard flushed with pride.

Other guards also set traps and felled several deer. When Ji Zhi deemed the time right, he galloped forth, wielding a black flood-dragon bow, releasing arrows in rapid succession—dozens of hares and deer fell beneath his mount.

As he rounded a thicket, he suddenly heard leaves rustling—then a beast’s roar shook the mountain. The imperial guards heard it and shouted, “Protect His Majesty!” spurring their horses toward the sound.

Ji Zhi stared at the thicket. A white-browed tiger emerged slowly, breath reeking of blood, eyes fixed coldly on him.

The beast stood before him like a mountain—rare and ferocious. Ji Zhi showed no fear, drawing his sword to counter. The tiger leapt, jaws open for the horse’s throat. Ji Zhi pulled the reins, trying to turn the mount—but the dappled horse, pampered in the palace, panicked and bolted.

Seeing danger, Ji Zhi shifted, readying his blade to block the claws. But just as the beast’s foul maw was about to reach him, a sharp cry pierced the air—

It came like an eagle’s screech. Ji Zhi jolted as the tiger’s body seized midair, as if struck by a hammer. The beast dropped lifeless to the ground.

“Your Majesty! Your Majesty! Forgive us—we arrived too late. Are you unharmed?” Imperial guards rushed in, encircling him. Ji Zhi waved them silent and dismounted. He approached the tiger—it had a deep wound in its neck.

He pulled the arrow free. It was forged from Heavenly Moutain iron, and the nock was etched with a red arrow flower.

Moments later, Ruyi Guard arrived, flustered. Seeing the tiger’s corpse, she pouted, “Aiya, Your Majesty is so brave—you brought down a white tiger! I’ve lost again!”

“That wasn’t my doing.” Ji Zhi held up the arrow. “Ruyi Guard, was this you?”

But to his surprise, Ruyi Guard looked puzzled. “That’s not mine—it’s too thin and short. I’d never use something like that. My arrows are longer and heavier.”

Ji Zhi stared at the arrow, his eyes flickering.

He knew—this wasn’t the first time he’d seen that arrow.

On the smoke-choked battlefield, amidst a wasteland strewn with skulls, it was often in the fiercest moments of combat that he was saved by this very arrow. All along, he had thought it was Ruyi Guard’s work. Though it did not always strike true, its force could split stone and pierce cloud, always driving back those who sought to kill him.

If this arrow did not come from Ruyi Guard—then who else could have loosed it?

Ji Zhi held the arrow, and a shiver ran through him. The one who could kill his enemy… could just as easily kill him. Like a shadow in the dark, silently watching him all this time.

After the hunt, Ji Zhi wandered alone through the garden pavilion. It was a chilly autumn night. Insects chirped faintly. Rockeries jutted ruggedly from the ground. Only a few dim lanterns burned in the corridors, and he walked in deep shadow. As he passed along the covered walk, the panels to his side were all unlit and silent.

After who knew how long, Ji Zhi suddenly spoke:

“Come out.”

No one replied. The palace attendants all knew that the Emperor liked to stroll alone at night, so only a few distant guards kept watch. Besides, Ji Zhi’s martial prowess was unmatched—no ordinary assassin could touch him—so his guards did not follow closely. No one answered him. Even the night held its breath.

“I know you’ve been following me,” Ji Zhi said, almost to himself. “That tiger in the forest today—you shot it, didn’t you? And back at Ji Yi, and at Niu Yang—you helped me then too, didn’t you? You’ve been like a shadow, always at my side. I only recently became aware of you. As emperor, I’ve been careless.”

Still, no answer. Ji Zhi placed his hands on his hips and said, “If you don’t come out, I’ll burn the entire Penglai Palace to the ground. I’ll dig up every inch of earth to find you. I don’t speak in vain.”

Then, like a sigh, there came a soft hiss—and a faint flame flickered behind the panel screen, as if someone had lit a lamp. The glow outlined a hazy silhouette on the screen, like ink bleeding through rice paper.

Ji Zhi’s heart skipped a beat. A strange complexity stirred within him—he couldn’t say whether it was joy or suspicion. He asked:

“Who are you?”

Still, the figure said nothing, as if it had no mouth. Ji Zhi continued, “There you go again, staying silent. Do you really want me to set fire to everything? A person of unknown origin—how could I tolerate you lurking near me? Don’t think just because I’m young I’m soft-hearted. My hand is not. If you don’t show yourself, I’ll have every person close to me investigated—anyone suspicious will be executed on the spot. Don’t doubt I’ll force you out.”

At length, the figure finally spoke. But the voice was faint, like bubbles bursting in a stream:

“I am… Your Majesty’s shadow.”

Ji Zhi frowned. From the voice, he guessed the other was near his own age. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Since long ago… I’ve followed by Your Majesty’s side,” the shadow said. “My only wish in this life is to hold Your Majesty’s stirrup and rein.”

“Why?”

“When the sovereign commands death, the subject must die. I was taught this from childhood. Tianfu Guard said… this is the will of Heaven.”

“There’s no such ‘will of Heaven’ in my reign.”

Ji Zhi replied, his brows drawn ever tighter. He seemed to be guessing who this person was. Was this the young successor Tianfu Guard had chosen? So the Tianfu Guard had planned ahead and placed someone at his side.

“I don’t need you to protect me. I’m capable of many things myself.”

“But I was ordered to guard Your Majesty. That is my fate.”

A sudden irritation welled up in Ji Zhi. He stepped forward and shoved open the panel—only to find no one behind it, just a flickering oil lamp on a small table. He turned toward the stained-glass lantern on the corridor wall and called:

“Come out! Who set these rules for you?”

A voice answered, “I did. I set the rules for myself.”

Ji Zhi turned again—and this time, he saw. Under the dim lamplight stood a youth in a black cloak, almost indistinguishable from the night. Beneath the hood was a pale face, with a sharply chiseled chin like that of a marble statue—a face Ji Zhi had never seen before.

The youth lifted his face, and Ji Zhi saw that one of his eyes was a double pupil, gleaming red like a garnet under the lamplight. Ji Zhi was so entranced he nearly forgot to breathe. The youth said, “This is the first time Your Majesty has seen me. Did you notice this eye?”

Ji Zhi numbly nodded.

“It’s a double pupil. I was born with it. Some say only sages and tyrants are born with such eyes. But my family elders believed I’d be neither. They said I was an ill star, born under a curse, and tried to drown me in the river the moment I was born.”

Ji Zhi wanted to cry, “Nonsense!” But staring into that eerie, soul-piercing eye, all his words caught in his throat and died.

The youth went on: “But my father saved me. He said it didn’t matter if I was a tyrant or a cursed star—if I followed a wise ruler like Your Majesty, then even the darkest fate would be overshadowed. Tianfu Guard took me in too, forged me into a blade—to one day serve Your Majesty. I accepted that. I long ago resolved to give my life for Your Majesty.”

Ji Zhi broke out in goosebumps. Yet the youth’s gaze was calm and solemn, as if every word he spoke had already been etched into his bones like scripture.

“That arrow during the autumn hunt—you shot it?”

“Yes.”

“And during the battles with Lianshan, you loosed your bow to save me more than once?”

“Yes.”

“Are you most skilled with the bow?”

The youth said, “Archery is not my strength. I practiced only to guard Your Majesty from the shadows.”

“Who are you? Were you chosen by Tianfu Guard to protect me?”

“Yes,” the youth answered calmly. “I am the son of Langgan Guard. My name is Fang Minsheng.”

Ji Zhi laughed. “The son of Langgan Guard? Strange, he’s never mentioned having a son.” Fang Minsheng replied, “Those who dwell in shadow need no boastful displays.”

Ji Zhi said again, “Langgan Guard dared name you ‘Minsheng’—‘pity the sage’? What gall. What in me needs your pity?” Fang Minsheng replied, “Your Majesty has no playmates. Since birth, you’ve borne the weight of the nation. Is that not pitiable?”

That made Ji Zhi’s brow ease slightly. He chuckled. “So, you stay by me on Tianfu Guard’s orders? And why should I trust you?”

He’d noticed the youth spoke stiffly and was now deliberately teasing him. But at that moment, Fang Minsheng reached into his robe and produced a small porcelain bottle painted with ocean waves. He shook out several pills and dry-swallowed them. Then he handed the bottle to Ji Zhi, still calm, as if he had cast all earthly concerns aside.

“These are arsenolite pills. After taking them, the body suffers cramps and vomiting. It recurs every five days.”

Fang Minsheng’s double pupil gleamed dully in the dark.

“The antidote and my life are both in Your Majesty’s hands. Do you trust me now?”