HCAW 135

Chapter 135: Endless Snow

After finishing their wine, the two left the tavern and wandered aimlessly along the main street. The shops were bustling, the crowd like porridge. Silk stores, foreign markets, gold and silver shops brimmed with dazzling wares that left the Tianfu Guard wide-eyed and stunned, looking as if he’d mistakenly stepped into the treasure halls of the Immortal Palace.

At a miscellaneous stall, Ji Zhi spent some time bargaining with the vendor before buying a golden-yellow jade thumb ring, which he turned around and handed to the Tianfu Guard. “Here, for you.”

“What is this…?”

“It’s an archery ring. Haven’t you seen enough of these? I… I noticed that you’re skilled in everything else, only your archery still needs some work. Take this, as encouragement from me.”

The Tianfu Guard accepted it in silence. After a while, he said, “Thank you… Master.” He held the ring awkwardly, unsure what to do with it, and tucked it into his cloak. Some time later, flustered, he put it on and held out his hand to show Ji Zhi.

Seeing the boy’s clumsy gesture, Ji Zhi’s own face flushed slightly. He mumbled, “If it’s uncomfortable, just take it off. It’s not worth much. There’s no shortage of top-grade yellow jade in the palace.”

“No, this is the one I want. Once we return to the palace, I’ll ask the craftsmen to engrave it.” The Tianfu Guard added earnestly, “So what if it’s top grade jade? If I hadn’t gone out on this night visit with you, I would never have received such a gift. It’s a rare treasure to me—I’ll keep it with me always.” As he spoke, he smiled.

This smile was much more natural than before, but Ji Zhi felt as if it scalded him. He quickly averted his gaze. “Just engrave your name so you don’t lose it.” The Tianfu Guard nodded, then carefully withdrew his hand and tucked it under his cloak again.

They continued on, walking briskly down the street, both feeling a little out of sorts and distracted. Snow had begun to fall softly from the sky. The Tianfu Guard stopped Ji Zhi and took off his cloak, placing it over Ji Zhi’s head. “The weather’s turned cold. Master, please take care not to catch a chill.”

Ji Zhi glanced at him and saw a thin layer of snow already on his shoulders. He brushed it off, then unfurled the cloak and wrapped it around them both. The Tianfu Guard froze for a moment and realized they were now pressed closely together in the warmth. Startled, he stammered, “M-Master…”

“What is it?”

“B-Being this close to you… it’s improper…”

“What’s there to be shy about? Didn’t you say you’d protect me at my side? How can you do that if you won’t come close?” Ji Zhi gave a mischievous grin and used the opportunity to pat him all over, which only made the Tianfu Guard’s lips tremble more violently. “Master… I’m just your guard, not your… bed attendant…”

Ji Zhi raised an eyebrow. “You look all uptight, but you sure know how to talk nonsense. I’m checking your injuries. Look at you—still not fully healed, and freezing cold. Quit arguing. Just stay wrapped in the cloak like a good boy.” The Tianfu Guard didn’t dare protest further. Blushing, he lowered his head and stayed close to Ji Zhi.

As they walked on, the street grew increasingly quiet. Shops became fewer, and some destitute beggars sat huddled on the roadside, wearing threadbare coats, clutching begging bowls. Several had already frozen to death. Ji Zhi’s smile faded as he fell into contemplation.

After a moment, he asked, “Seeing this, what do you feel?”

The Tianfu Guard looked at the beggars, his expression numb. Raised in the Fang estate like a caged bird, he had been taught since childhood that his life belonged solely to Emperor Bai—that the lives of others were none of his concern.

But scenes from the operas they had just watched came flooding back—lines he had read in books now overlapped with the images before him. He thought of Snow in June, thought of The Eight Righteous Ones—stories of others, yes, but unforgettable ones. At last, he said, “Do you think… I should feel sorrow for them?”

Ji Zhi looked at him, a trace of thawed frost in his eyes. “Only with stars gathered around can the North Star shine. If I fail to protect the people, what use am I as a ruler?”

The Tianfu Guard replied, “If your heart does not hold the people, Master, then even Xian Mountain will not stay united.” He lowered his eyes to the frozen beggar boy on the road, and an unfamiliar compassion stirred in his chest. “They once had paths ahead, but now wind and snow have cut off all chances. Spring will never come for them.”

Ji Zhi closed his eyes and sighed, breath drifting like a white butterfly into the air. “I fear even spring will be colder this year. Penglai is growing ever more frozen and buried in snow. Now that we’ve dealt with the human disasters of Lianshan and the Warlord, we must face the natural ones.”

He stepped forward and said, “Minsheng, in a few days, let’s tour the borderlands of Penglai and see the damage from the frost. Now that we’ve taken Xian Mountain, we must also learn how to guard it well.”

The Tianfu Guard nodded. “Wherever Your Majesty goes, I will follow.”

______

Several days later, Emperor Bai rode out in a leather-covered chariot, drawn by six piebald horses and attended by forty drivers. The Tianfu Guard sat inside, sword in hand, gazing out. The war had just ended, and the land lay barren. Thick snow blanketed the earth like milk. Crops had withered; many froze to death in the open with no one to bury them. For a hundred li ahead, there was no sign of life.

Since leaving the palace, Ji Zhi had spoken little, brow tightly furrowed. At every stop, he stepped down from the chariot to ask about household numbers, livestock, and crops. The snow lay several feet thick, blocking roads. The wind was fierce, the ground frozen like glass. People who fell could not get up, and some soldiers standing in formation were literally frozen into statues. After each blizzard, house beams collapsed. Wild animals scavenged near huts, searching for human flesh to eat.

Farther along, they saw an old man in sheepskin, hair unbound, herding a lone thin sheep. His wrinkles were full of frost. His kin were all dead; his flock, reduced to one.

He shivered and said, “Ah… they’re all dead… everyone’s dead. Soon, we too will vanish from this land…”

Ji Zhi couldn’t bear it and turned to the guards. “Take the old man somewhere warm and make sure he has food and water.” But just then, a gale roared to life, snow and dust filling the sky. The guards rushed to shield Ji Zhi’s face.

When the blizzard passed, Ji Zhi barely opened his eyes—only to see the old man still standing, completely encased in snow, frozen into a sculpture. He reached out and touched him; the man’s arm snapped off and shattered.

The closer they drew to the Ming Sea, the heavier the snow became. Because of the snow disaster, the coast was utterly deserted. Only a few needle-bow fishing boats drifted across the ice-sealed sea. Some small boats had run aground. In the coconut-thatch huts, many boatmen had frozen or starved to death.

Ji Zhi walked up to a stranded boat—and suddenly, his whole body trembled.

There, lying lifeless on the plank floor, was a little girl wearing a bamboo hat and slant-collared shirt. Her body was emaciated to the point of distortion—she had been dead for some time. Ji Zhi pried open her tightly clenched fist. Inside it, gleamed a silver coin, engraved with the image of Emperor Bai.

The young emperor picked up the coin with trembling hands and said nothing for a long time.

Upon returning to the Immortal Palace, Ji Zhi acted without delay and immediately summoned the Ruyi Guard, the agricultural officers, and the Astronomy Bureau officials. The ministers gathered to discuss how to address the worsening frost disaster.

The Ruyi Guard, from a family of diviners, had already conferred with the astronomers. After a brief discussion, she furrowed her brow and said to the White Emperor, “Your Majesty, the outlook is not good. Penglai is growing ever colder. Right now we can still sail out to sea, but it won’t be long before even the Ming Sea freezes over. The icy gales blow in from all directions—though only the borders are struck for now, I fear it will eventually encroach upon Xian Mountain. This land may become a frozen wasteland.”

Ji Zhi said nothing, his brows tightly knit. He absently rubbed a silver coin between his fingers. Just then, an astronomer in brocade embroidered with wild geese stepped forward and bowed.

“Your Majesty, allow your subject to speak. In my recent divinations of the heavens, I received the ‘Lín’ hexagram. Ominous birds flew furiously, and the sundial’s shadow stretched one zhang, three chi, and five cun, unmoving. This is an extraordinary sign. The cold is intensifying. Xian Mountain may well become an icy prison. Penglai stands on the brink of calamity!”

“You dare mislead the emperor!” another astronomer cried, then quickly kowtowed and flattered, “Your Majesty, forgive this interruption, but Zheng’s words are merely personal speculation. The Astronomy Bureau recently observed the Merchant Star in the southern sky at twilight—a clear omen of the earth’s revival and spring’s return!”

At once, the chamber erupted like boiling porridge. One faction claimed Penglai would soon be buried in ceaseless snow. The other argued the sun would soon rise higher and melt the frost. Shouting over each other, they sneered:

“You’re blind men groping in the dark, spouting nonsense to confuse His Majesty! He is wise and discerning—he’ll strip your ranks!”

In the din, the young emperor, seated at the center, suddenly spoke—his voice cold and cutting:

“Enough.”

The hall fell instantly silent.

Ji Zhi swept his gaze across them, his eyes heavy as towering mountains, and the pressure chilled the room. “You are all the best talents Penglai has to offer. I will not strip you of your posts—nor your heads. But I have seen with my own eyes the countless starving and frozen at the border. Thousands perish each day. I cannot sit and wait for the weather to change. If any of you has a way to relieve the disaster—speak.”

The agricultural and astronomical officials glanced at each other, stammering, unsure.

At last, it was the Ruyi Guard who broke the silence. She took a book from her sleeve and said, “I may have a suggestion.”

“What is it?”

“Your Majesty—have you heard of the ‘Nine Provinces’?”

Ji Zhi thought for a moment. “I’ve heard the name, but I’m not too familiar. They say, beyond Xian Mountain, past the Ming Sea, lies the ‘Nine Provinces.’”

“Indeed. Though it sounds like mere rumor, it’s not without basis. This book in my hand records accounts of the Nine Provinces. Its descriptions of mountains, rivers, and star alignments are too precise to be fabricated. I believe that beyond Xian Mountain, there truly are lands called Nine Provinces. If one day Xian Mountain is truly buried under wind and snow, we may seek refuge.”

An official broke into a sweat and kowtowed. “R-Ruyi Guard, forgive me for speaking out of turn—but throughout history, no voyage from Xian Mountain has ever returned with news of the Nine Provinces. It may not… may not exist at all!”

The officials once again broke into loud dispute, buzzing like cicadas. Ji Zhi sighed lightly, and the hall fell quiet again. He toyed with the silver coin and said:

“First, send scouts to thoroughly investigate the regions around Penglai. See if there is anywhere untouched by the snow. As for the ‘Nine Provinces’—I will consider it further.”

_____

Months later, the Bureau returned empty-handed. All who went reported that the outer regions of Penglai had turned to frozen soil, and the source of the snowstorm was nowhere to be found. It was as if the northern wind came from all directions, beyond the end of the Ming Sea.

In those months, Ji Zhi confined himself to his study, poring daily over the Nine Provinces map the Ruyi Guard had given him. His expression grew ever more severe, his words sparse.

Finally, one day, he summoned the ten Xian Mountain Guards to the Supreme Celestial Hall for a private meeting. When they entered, they saw the young emperor seated on a golden-carved dragonwood throne, eyes closed in thought. After a long silence, he straightened and said coldly:

“I will soon embark on a campaign beyond the Ming Sea, to seek the Nine Provinces.”

His words fell like thunder in the guards’ hearts. They exchanged stunned glances. It was the Yu Ji Guard who first let out a low laugh:

“Heh… What does the little emperor mean by this? Journeying to the Nine Provinces —why speak of it now?”

“You are all well aware,” Ji Zhi replied, “that the frost in Xian Mountain has become dire. If we continue to delay, it will consume the heart of the land. I will not stand by while my people die.”

The guards looked at one another. They had all heard of the emperor’s tours and his consultations with the ministries—but none expected he would speak of personally leading an expedition. The Bi Bao Guard was the first to kneel, sucking in a breath:

“Your Majesty is wise and compassionate, beloved by all. But signs of spring’s return have also appeared. The ice may thaw soon. Why not wait a little longer and observe the weather’s changes? Moreover, Xian Mountain has only just emerged from war. Penglai is barely settled. For Your Majesty to depart now may shake the people’s hearts and leave the realm vulnerable. Please reconsider.”

“The Bi Bao Guard speaks with reason. We beg Your Majesty to reflect,” said the Yu Yin Guard.

“Please reconsider,” the other guards echoed, kneeling one after another.

Ji Zhi looked down from his throne. Only the Ruyi Guard remained standing, while the others bowed low. In that moment, he felt the seat beneath him was unbearably high—he was too far from them. Perhaps it was the loneliness of great heights. As his subjects prostrated, he felt like the only soul left in the entire land.

Eight of the Xian Mountain Guards did not want him to go.

Ji Zhi leaned back. Behind the red lacquered screen was silence—but he knew that person stood there, never far, never gone.

“Minsheng,” he asked softly, “would you oppose me too?”

The Tianfu Guard’s voice answered from behind the screen, like the shadow it always was. “I will stand by Your Majesty.”

“You’ve never considered that I might be wrong?”

Ji Zhi sighed. He suddenly regretted asking. The Tianfu Guard had always followed his decisions without question, like a puppet. Perhaps only this Tianfu Guard would never leave his side—would never betray him.

But in the next moment, Ji Zhi’s eyes widened—because from behind the screen came a voice. Still calm, but now carrying a ripple.

“No. If that day ever comes…”

The Tianfu Guard said, voice light as a feather—yet unyielding as iron.

“I will stop Your Majesty.”