Love Lock

Chapter 366 Extra: Hua Tianyou and Zhao Ling'er

Inside the imperial palace of the Great Jing Dynasty, apart from the Longevity Palace where the Empress Dowager resided, which was filled with laughter and joy, the rest of the palace was quiet and deserted.

After the Empress's death, although Zhao Zun refused to acknowledge it, he still built an ice chamber and an ice coffin in Weiyang Palace.

Although the Empress Dowager felt sorry for Zhao Zun but didn't say it outright and let him do whatever he wanted, she did like Han Lei, her daughter-in-law, very much. Her sudden departure made her feel bad.

But after a period of grief, life must go on. Besides, it's not good for two children to live in the deathly Weiyang Palace.

Therefore, the Empress Dowager ordered the wet nurse to take the twins, Zhao Xingheng and Zhao Yueyao, to live in a side hall of the Longevity Palace to stay by her side.

It was August, and the weather was hot. The two children, Zhao Xingheng and Zhao Yueyao, wearing only thin undergarments, were already crawling around on the bed. The Empress Dowager spent her days in the Changshou Palace playing with her two adorable grandsons, and some laughter could be heard from them.

On the throne in the Golden Palace, Zhao Zun, with a calm expression, listened to the reports from his officials below, sometimes asking questions, sometimes making decisions, his voice steady and powerful.

He remains the same powerful and commanding King of Cangzhou, the undisputed ruler of this vast empire.

Only Li Zhongxin, the chief eunuch standing beside him, could glimpse the anxiety and impatience deep within His Majesty's heart from the unconscious clenching of his fingers on the armrest of the throne, his knuckles turning slightly white.

That anxiety had nothing to do with national affairs, but was closely connected to the bone-chilling cold in the depths of the Weiyang Palace.

The lengthy court session finally ended amidst shouts of "Your Majesty is wise!" Zhao Zun rose almost immediately, his bright yellow dragon robe billowing in the wind, and strode away from the Golden Palace.

He was a general on horseback and was not used to riding in a dragon carriage. He waved away the entourage that wanted to follow, and with only Li Zhongxin and a few trusted eunuchs, he walked straight towards Weiyang Palace along the cleared palace road.

As he passed the classroom converted from a side hall, he involuntarily stopped in his tracks.

This classroom was specially renovated for Han Lei. Han Lei came from that bizarre and fantastical other world, and her soul contained a freedom and unconventionality unimaginable in this era.

After he ascended the throne, he had to move into the palace, but the confines of the palace and its intricate rules almost suffocated Han Lei. She always longed to escape to the city, to the fields, to experience the vibrant life of ordinary people.

He felt sorry for Han Lei and couldn't bear to break her wings and confine her in this deep palace, but he was also worried about her safety and even more afraid that this deep palace would lock away her smile.

So he came up with this idea: to convert this well-lit side hall into a classroom, creating a unique "royal classroom" in the world.

Zhao Zun slowly pushed open the familiar palace door and stepped inside with heavy steps.

The hall was spacious and quiet.

Directly in front of her was a blackboard that Han Lei had bought from the system, with a box of chalk underneath.

Some unrefined, freehand handwriting still remained on the blackboard, traces left from her last lecture.

Below, dozens of pear wood tables and chairs were neatly arranged. At this moment, these tables and chairs were all empty, covered with a thin layer of dust.

Once, this place was filled with the most outstanding nobles, the most capable ministers, and even a few members of the imperial family who were granted special permission by him to enter the palace to listen to lectures.

They sat there with feelings of curiosity, skepticism, or reverence, listening to the young yet astonishing Empress on the stage recount knowledge they had never heard of before.

Zhao Zun could almost see that delicate figure standing in front of the black jade wall, holding a piece of chalk in one hand, writing and drawing while talking eloquently in her unique soft and sweet voice.

When she speaks, her eyes always sparkle, and a confident yet sweet smile graces her lips. Sometimes, when faced with concepts that are difficult to explain, she will slightly furrow her delicate brows, diligently searching for words that these ancient people could understand. Her earnest demeanor is exceptionally captivating.

The ministers below the stage initially whispered and were dismissive, but later listened attentively, asked questions enthusiastically, and even argued heatedly about it.

Zhao Zun himself was once the most loyal student in this classroom. He would often finish his official duties, then quietly come in through the back door, sit in the last row, and watch his young wife shine on her own "stage".

At that time, she would occasionally meet his gaze, giving him a sly and slightly smug look, as if to say, "See, am I amazing?"

He would always respond with a gentle and encouraging smile.

But now...

Zhao Zun slowly walked to the seat in the center of the last row, his usual spot. He stretched out his hand, his fingertips lightly brushing against the cool tabletop.

The faint scent of jasmine lingered in the air, along with her clear, melodious voice, echoing in his ears again and again.

"Brother Zun, look at this formula, isn't it very concise?"

"Minister Wang, that's an excellent question! Let's think about it this way..."

"General Li, on the battlefield, it's not enough to be brave; you also need to know how to use science... for example, the principle of parabolic trajectories..."

"This world is far more vast than we imagine, and the power of knowledge is far more profound than swords..."

The sound still lingers in my ears, but the person has vanished without a trace.

Things are wrong.

These four words, like a poisoned dagger, pierced his heart, bringing a suffocating, excruciating pain. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to suppress the bitter taste churning in his throat.

His broad and strong shoulders appeared somewhat hunched at this moment, in this empty classroom, revealing a deep weariness and loneliness.

He lingered in the classroom for a long time, walking from the podium to the back row, looking out the window at the flower-filled courtyard. Every corner was filled with fragments of memories, cutting into his already wounded heart.

Finally, he turned around, his steps heavier than when he came, and walked step by step toward the heavy door wrapped in cotton felt that led to the extreme cold.

The moment I stepped through the gates of Weiyang Palace, my steps involuntarily slowed down.

The palace remained magnificent. Led by Zitan and Jinju, the palace servants held their breath and moved silently. An invisible sense of emptiness, like a cold spider web, permeated every corner.

The two guards on duty bowed silently, then together slowly pushed open the heavy door.

A chilling aura instantly swept over me, making my hair stand on end.

Li Zhongxin couldn't help but shiver. He subconsciously wanted to dissuade Zhao Zun, but when he saw Zhao Zun's unwavering gaze, which even carried an almost pious expectation, he swallowed all his words.

He simply handed over a pre-prepared bronze hand warmer and a heavy black fox fur cloak.

Zhao Zun waved his hand, not taking it.

He seemed completely oblivious to the bone-chilling cold and walked straight in.

Inside the Ice Chamber is a strange world built from huge, translucent blocks of ice. The walls and the dome are all made of solid ice.

The unique structure allows solar energy to refract between the ice layers, preventing the interior from becoming dark. Instead, it is filled with a hazy, bluish glow, like a dream.

The air was filled with cold, watery vapor, and every breath was accompanied by a white mist.

In the center of the ice chamber was a platform, also carved from ice, resembling a jade bed. On the platform, a figure lay quietly.

Zhao Zun stopped a few steps away from the ice platform. He stared at the figure, and the sharpness and imperial majesty in his eyes melted away in an instant, leaving only an intense tenderness and pain.

He walked over quietly, as if afraid of disturbing a fragile dream.

On the ice rink, Han Lei was quietly "sleeping".

Her face was calm, her eyes were closed, and her long, curled eyelashes cast a faint shadow under her eyelids. Her lips were pale pink, having lost their usual rosy color, but still maintained a soft curve, as if she had just fallen into a sweet sleep and would wake up at any moment.

Zhao Zun carefully took her hand, which was resting at her side. It was icy cold to the touch. But the softness of her touch, the dexterity of her fingers, was indistinguishable from that of a living person. He could even feel the faint elasticity beneath her skin. This was definitely not the state of a body that had been dead for so long.

His gaze fell on Han Lei's chest, where the broken jade pendant still lay on the unfolded brocade handkerchief.

It was precisely this unusual physical condition and the broken emotional lock that became the cornerstone supporting all of Zhao Zun's beliefs.

He doesn't believe in death, he doesn't believe in fate!
His maid's soul was taken away by the broken Love Lock, trapped in a dimension of time and space beyond his reach. To be precise, her body was protected by the remaining power of the Love Lock, awaiting the moment it would be awakened again.

“Girl…” he began, his voice low and hoarse, echoing in the empty ice room, filled with endless longing, “I’m here.”

He sat on a brocade stool that had been specially placed by the ice platform, tightly wrapping her cold, soft little hand in his warm, broad palm, trying to dispel the chill with his body heat.

Of course, he knew it was all in vain.

"Today, the court was in an uproar again over the issue of changing the route of the Grand Canal..." He began to talk to her as usual, with a faint smile even appearing on his lips.

He paused, gently stroking the back of her hand, his tone teasing with a hint of self-satisfaction: "Look, your husband now, don't I understand the importance of listening to all sides? Unlike before when I was leading troops in Cangzhou, I could just give an order and charge into battle."

Only his voice could be heard in the ice room: "That brat Hua Tianyou sent a memorial a few days ago, inquiring about my well-being, and... he also asked about you."

Zhao Zun's voice lowered a few degrees, "His wedding date with Ling'er was set for the first day of the third month, which was originally an auspicious day. But now... it's already August."

His gaze fell once more on the broken love lock on her chest, his eyes burning as if he wanted to mend it with his gaze. "I know you can feel it, you can hear it, right?" He leaned down, his forehead gently touching hers, closed his eyes, and whispered as if in a dream, "The love lock… if it brought you to me, it can bring you back. It can…"

The icy chill seeped into his body, yet he remained oblivious. Only in this extreme cold, holding her hand and feeling the extraordinary "vitality" of her body, could he suppress the abyss-like fear and despair within him, and convince himself that this was not his delusion, not his madness.

The Golden Palace – Classroom – Ice Room.

This is the routine he has followed day after day, without fail, since Han Lei's passing.

All the great talents and strategies, all the imperial tactics, all the diligent efforts to govern, seem to have become a process of maintaining this cycle and waiting for a faint hope.

He stayed in the ice chamber for a long time until Li Zhongxin cautiously and anxiously reminded him from outside, "Your Majesty, it's getting late. There are still several urgent memorials to review in the Imperial Study..."

Zhao Zun slowly raised his head. He looked deeply at Han Lei, as if trying to etch her face into the depths of his soul.

Then, he gently placed her hand back in its place and tidied her non-existent messy hair, his movements so tender they could melt your heart.

"Girl, I need to attend to some official business. I'll come see you again tomorrow." He said softly, then resolutely turned and strode away from the ice chamber.

The heavy door closed slowly behind him, shutting out the bone-chilling cold.

As the door closed behind him, his back straightened, and his face regained the resolute and cold expression befitting an emperor. Only the reddened corners of his eyes betrayed the undying flame and obsession deep within his heart…

Time flies, autumn is here, and the weather is clear and crisp – this is the most pleasant season in Beijing.

At this time of year, high-ranking officials would gather to climb mountains, admire chrysanthemums, and drink wine. Literati would row boats on the lake, composing poems and couplets. Even ordinary people would take advantage of the time before the agricultural off-season to visit relatives and friends or prepare gifts for the Mid-Autumn Festival and Double Ninth Festival. The air was filled with an atmosphere of harvest and celebration.

However, this autumn, the entire capital city was shrouded in an indescribable gloom and oppression.

This sense of oppression is not due to any explicit prohibition by the government, but rather an invisible sense of unease and speculation that permeates the streets, alleys, teahouses, and taverns.

The source of this unease points directly to the inner palace, and to the Empress Han Lei, who has not appeared in the public eye for more than half a year.

At first, there were only scattered speculations. The Empress had been claiming illness and recuperating since before the Lunar New Year, and had not appeared on any occasions, which was extremely unusual in itself. Even the lectures in the "Imperial Palace Classroom" suddenly stopped.

As time went on, rumors proliferated like weeds after a spring rain, with numerous versions emerging.

Some say that the Empress was actually terminally ill and medicine was ineffective, but His Majesty, being deeply in love with her, refused to face the truth and kept her death a secret.

Some say that the Empress angered Heaven and was punished by Heaven for spreading those "heretical doctrines," falling into a coma.

Some even say that His Majesty built the ice chamber in Weiyang Palace not for recuperation, but to preserve the Empress's... body and prevent it from decaying. Such immoral and perverse acts are truly appalling and detrimental to the dignity of the nation.

Some with keen senses discovered that the wedding of Hua Tianyou, the heir of the Duke of Heng, and Zhao Ling'er, which was originally scheduled for the first day of the third month, was suddenly postponed without any warning, further confirming the speculation of "national mourning"—if the Empress had not passed away, why would the Emperor's most beloved sister's wedding be postponed indefinitely?

"I've heard that there's no festive atmosphere in the palace these days. The maids and eunuchs walk on tiptoe, afraid of bringing bad luck."

"That's right! My husband works in the government office, and he says that the officials above are all very careful and dare not mention the word 'happiness' even once."

"Your Majesty's actions...aren't they putting personal matters before public ones? If the Empress is truly...then her funeral should be conducted according to ancestral customs. How can this be done in such an ambiguous manner?"

"Shh! Watch your mouth! Don't you want your head? What kind of temper does His Majesty have? Back in Cangzhou, he was a ruthless and decisive ruler!"

Rumors and gossip, like an invisible tide, surged in every corner of the capital. No one dared to laugh, no one dared to get married, no one dared to hold lavish banquets. The entire capital seemed to be shrouded in an invisible net, losing its former vitality and becoming lifeless.

This undercurrent eventually and inevitably flowed into the imperial court.

The atmosphere in the imperial court that day was exceptionally heavy.

After handling several routine administrative matters, a censor in his fifties, dressed in a scarlet official robe, holding a jade tablet, spoke in a loud but cautious voice: "Your Majesty, I have a memorial to present."

Zhao Zun sat high on the dragon throne, his gaze calmly sweeping over Zhou, a veteran official of the Censorate. Zhou was known for his uprightness and willingness to speak out, but was also somewhat pedantic.

"speak."

"Your Majesty," Imperial Censor Zhou took a deep breath, seemingly having made up his mind, "Her Majesty the Empress has been unwell and has been resting quietly for a long time. We, her subjects, and the people of the realm are all deeply worried and pray day and night for Her Majesty's recovery. However, Her Majesty's prolonged absence has led to numerous rumors and disrespectful speculations. If this continues, it may harm the foundation of the nation and shake the hearts of the people. I humbly request Your Majesty that if Her Majesty has recovered, could you please allow her to appear at an opportune time to reassure the people? Uh... if Her Majesty's illness has not yet healed, please also inform Your Majesty, lest petty people speculate and cause trouble."

These words were spoken with utmost tact, expressing concern while also pointing out the harm of rumors. In the end, the choice was left to the emperor: whether the empress was healthy or seriously ill, a clear statement would quell the storm.

However, Zhao Zun, sitting on the dragon throne, did not change his expression at all, only his eyes turned slightly colder.

Before he could speak, another minister stepped forward. He was a vice minister from the Ministry of Rites, and his tone was even more direct than that of Censor Zhou:
"Your Majesty, Imperial Censor Zhou is absolutely right. Important matters of state should be clearly announced to the world. The Empress is the mother of the nation, a model for all, and her well-being is crucial to the fate of the country. Currently, the people are unaware of the exact news from the palace, so they dare not marry or celebrate. If this continues, rituals and music will decline, and resentment will grow among the people. I implore Your Majesty to establish regulations as soon as possible for the sake of the country."

Immediately afterwards, three or four more officials stepped forward to second the motion. Their words were either earnest or impassioned, but they all shared the same central idea: Your Majesty, please give us a definitive answer regarding the Empress's condition!
In the imperial court, voices of remonstrance rose and fell.

Many upright and honest senior officials felt that while His Majesty's actions were compassionate, they were unreasonable and illegal.

If the empress has truly passed away, according to ancestral custom, a state funeral should be held and the whole country should observe mourning; if she is merely ill, imperial physicians or respected members of the imperial family should be allowed to visit her to verify the facts.

To hide deep within the palace and preserve one's body with ice is truly unprecedented and inconceivable.

The Duke of Heng, standing at the forefront of the court officials, did not step forward to speak, but his brows were furrowed, his eyes downcast, his mind filled with worry.

He was worried about his son, Hua Tianyou, and also about His Majesty.

He had no complaints about postponing Hua Tianyou's marriage to Princess Ling'er, after all, if something were to happen to the Empress, it would be his duty as a subject and friend to observe mourning. He was only afraid that His Majesty's stubbornness would attract more criticism and even affect the stability of the court, and would also cause Hua Tianyou and Zhao Ling'er's marriage to be delayed indefinitely.

He secretly glanced at Zhao Zun on the dragon throne, only to find that the other man's face was ashen, revealing neither joy nor anger. However, the invisible low pressure emanating from him made the Duke of Heng, who was familiar with his personality, secretly feel uneasy.

Sure enough, amidst a chorus of advice, Zhao Zun finally spoke slowly.

His voice was not loud, but it had a metallic quality that clearly overwhelmed all the noise and reached the ears of every minister.

"Finished?"

Just three words silenced the entire Golden Palace instantly.

The ministers who had just been speaking eloquently suddenly felt an invisible pressure descend upon them like a mountain, making it hard for them to breathe.

Zhao Zun's gaze, like a cold blade, slowly swept over the ministers who had stepped forward to offer their advice, finally landing on the head of the group, Imperial Censor Zhou.

"When did I say that the Empress had passed away?"

Censor Zhou trembled, and forced himself to say, "Your Majesty... we did not mean that, it's just a rumor circulating in the streets..."

"Rumors?" Zhao Zun interrupted him, his tone sharp. "You, as important officials of the court, do not think of sharing the emperor's burdens and correcting the truth, but instead believe the rumors circulating in the streets and use them to interrogate me in court?"

"We dare not!" Imperial Censor Zhou and the others hurriedly bowed, cold sweat beading on their foreheads.

"Dare not?" Zhao Zun sneered, his laughter devoid of any warmth, only displaying the domineering and unquestionable nature of an iron-blooded emperor. "I think you dare quite a bit!"

He abruptly stood up from the dragon throne, looking down at the assembled officials, and said each word with unwavering resolve: "I will tell you all clearly once again, the Empress is suffering from a strange illness and needs to rest! The ice chamber is a place to aid her recovery! I know this better than anyone else!"

His gaze, sharp as lightning, swept across the face of every minister, carrying an immense sense of oppression.

"Anyone who dares to speak ill of the Empress's life or death, or spread rumors, is considered to be cursing the Mother of the Nation; their heart deserves to be condemned!"

His words struck like a thunderbolt, leaving all the ministers shaken and speechless with fear.

Only then did they realize that the emperor before them was, at heart, still the same Cangzhou King who had fought his way out of mountains of corpses and seas of blood and who handled matters like issuing military orders.

Once he made up his mind, no one and no rule could change it. His tenderness and his obsession were all reserved for that one person in the ice room.

"This matter ends here!" Zhao Zun declared decisively, his voice carrying an unquestionable resolve. "Unless there are other important matters, court is adjourned!"

Having said that, he looked away from everyone, turned and strode away from the Golden Palace. His resolute back was like a towering, solitary wall, blocking out all voices that tried to approach or "advice."

The hall was filled with civil and military officials, who looked at each other, their hearts filled with mixed feelings.

Some lamented that His Majesty was too infatuated, even to the point of being muddleheaded. Others worried about the instability of the nation and the uncertain future. Still others, like the Duke of Heng, while concerned, also sensed in His Majesty's thunderous rage a near-desperate, untouchable protection.

Censor Zhou and his entourage looked ashen-faced, knowing they could offer no further advice on the matter.

His Majesty's attitude was crystal clear. He refused to acknowledge the Empress's death and refused all forms of mourning; anyone who dared to mention it again would be touching his sore spot.

Emperor Zhao Zun, this "military man," was indeed different from all previous emperors.

He may not follow the so-called "way of a sage ruler" so strictly. He allows his ministers to express their opinions freely, and even to have heated debates on political matters, but whether or not they listen is up to him.

It's cold, very cold! Winter has arrived abruptly.