The Mirror of Startling Beauty: Her courtiers are everywhere

A lone lamp hangs under the eaves, swaying gently in the wind, its light shattering into frost-like patterns on the steps.

Qi Si stood amidst the lamplight and the night, with snow-covered plum blossoms behind him and the handsome silhouette of a young man in front of him.

His voice was very low, as if afraid of breaking the momentary peace, or as if every word was being forcibly ripped from his very heart and flesh:

"Lin'er, in the past, your father did not stand high enough, nor did he hold enough power. As a result, I have missed more than twenty years with your mother."

He paused, his gaze passing over Pei Yanchuan's shoulder and landing on the half-closed window of the warm pavilion.

Deep within the curtains, Mei Ruohuan could be vaguely seen pulling Xiao Ningran's clothes tighter, the candlelight outlining her profile as gentle and slender.

"I will not let you walk the thorny path I have walked."

He withdrew his gaze and fixed it on the boy's handsome and gentle face, each word spoken with the weight of a rock:

"I don't want you to experience the pain of missing out on the moon you love."

"The carp in the pond gazes at the moon, seeing only its reflection, not its true form; only the dragon in the heavens, flapping its wings, can reach out its claws to touch the light of the sky."

The height he stands at now is his son's starting point.

"Ying Lin—do not be a carp in a pond, forever gazing only at your reflection in the water. Your father has already paved the way for you to reach for the true moon."

Pei Yanchuan lowered his head, and then bowed solemnly.

"Your Majesty's high hopes are etched in my mind."

He straightened up, his expression calm as still as a deep well, yet clearly revealing a hidden spark within.

"But I dare to say that Yinglin is not a carp from a pond, nor does he wish to become Yinglong."

"If one day the bright moon shines in the sky, I will be your inkstone, a deep pool, to quell any disturbances that may tarnish her name."

"No need to touch the sunlight, no need to shake the heavens."

"Burning the old poetry bag, warming the inch of coldness on her fingertips."

When the lamplight fades, my bones will serve as fuel to continue its glow.

Qi Si remained silent for a long time after hearing this. Every son of the Qi family was extremely stubborn.

He now stands above all others in the world.

But even at such a height of ten thousand feet, it feels like standing on the edge of an abyss.

It was another nephew of his who, while he was negotiating with Xingze at the border and unable to return to provide assistance from thousands of miles away, convicted the Pei clan and ordered their execution.

Emperor Beichuan, Qi Zhan.

It is different from wishful thinking.

Qi Wang's mind is as pure as a drawn sword; his eyes are only on the pinnacle of martial arts, and wherever his sword points, that is his goal. The disturbances of the world do not enter his heart.

Qi Wang obeyed him without question and respected him as if he were his own father.

Qi Zhan was born like a deep pool, its surface calm and still, but its depths are unfathomable.

He loved to laugh from a young age. When he laughed, his eyes curved into crescents, and he was gentle and harmless. Everyone who saw him would praise him, saying, "Your Highness is kind and benevolent, a gentleman like jade."

But it is precisely this warm and smooth exterior that conceals the sharpest blade.

"Uncle, a country has its laws, and a family has its rules. I am merely making a judgment according to the law; you won't be angry, will you?"

After the court session ended that day, the young emperor kept him alone in the palace.

On the dragon throne, Qi Zhan still wore his usual gentle smile, and his eyes even carried a hint of a junior's obedience.

He tilted his head slightly, as if he were merely asking for advice on a common policy, rather than referring to the edict he had recently signed to execute the entire Imperial Tutor's family.

Kill the Imperial Tutor.

The Grand Secretary who taught him from a young age to read, understand principles, and write effectively.

Pei Zhao.

To carry on the light and illuminate future generations.

Pei Zhao, courtesy name Chenghui.

Those who take the torch from their predecessors pass it on to those who come after.

He once wielded his pen like a torch, illuminating the long path from crown prince to emperor.

The disciple he personally taught now sits on the dragon throne, and with gentle words and smiles, he has reduced the century-old family to ashes.

—Treason.

— Colluding with the enemy.

—The evidence is complete and irrefutable.

Qi Si remembers that he didn't say anything at the time.

He stood in the hall, the smoke of ambergris curling and swirling between the golden dragon pillars, making him feel almost suffocated and chilled to the bone.

He recalled years ago when he had stood in front of Pei Zhao, his eyes red and his voice hoarse:

"Chenghui, didn't you say before that you would always take care of me and Yaoyao like an older brother?"

"Could you—give Yaoyao to me? I'm begging you."

Young Qi Si stood in the spring sunshine, yet he was utterly dejected, like a trapped beast abandoned in the wilderness.

"You know perfectly well how much I like Yaoyao. You know perfectly well—"

He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white, something welling up in his eyes, but he stubbornly forced it back.

"Are you even worthy of being called an older brother? Why did you steal my Yaoyao...?"

Every word was written with the force of tears.

Pei Zhao stood in the courtyard, with the first blooming crabapple blossoms behind him and a rebellious young man in front of him.

He did not argue or back down, but simply looked at Qi Si quietly, his gaze like a deep pool covered with a thin layer of frost.

After a long silence, he said:

"Ah Si, don't be willful."

The sound was very soft, like the last snowflake of spring.

"This situation is dangerous, you just keep making your moves. Yaoyao... I'll protect her."

His figure stood amidst the interplay of light and shadow in the court, wielding his pen as if it were a spear, his thin blue robe revealing a back as straight as a drawn sword.

"If you find yourself in a perilous situation, I will make the counter-strategy and risk my life to break the deadlock."

The scholar's robe is not as heavy as armor, but inside lies a scholar's spirit that can support the world.

He was not a military general and had never ridden a horse on the battlefield; yet, within the confines of his desk, he single-handedly withstood the calamity of collapse, using his pen as a blade and his strategy as a shield to protect that reckless and willful youth from countless open and hidden attacks.

He observed the world's chessboards with folded hands, proceeding cautiously and never regretting his moves.

Only for them—for Yaoyao, for Asi—he willingly went against the tide, placing himself in the most dangerous position.

Pei Zhao is a gentleman who stepped out of ancient books, elegant in every page and upright in every action.

He once thought that silence was alienation, but later he realized that it was watching over him.

What remains ununderstood in every sentence is the profound meaning hidden between the lines.

His shoulders were covered with snow that covered the entire court, yet he always stood sideways, leaving a corner of clear, windless sky for those behind him.

During their years at the Pei residence, Pei Zhao and Mei Ruohuan lived separately in different courtyards, upholding proper etiquette and never committing any offenses against each other.

He carefully nurtured Pei Yanchuan, teaching him to read stroke by stroke and to be a good person word by word.

He wasn't unaware of who Pei Yanchuan's sharp features resembled; he knew very well whose eldest son he had raised was.

He just doesn't say it.

He had considered helping those two people to be together.

But when he looked up toward the Regent's Palace, he saw only the clash of swords and the carnage of bloodshed.

I recall that time when Mei Ruohuan was assassinated and her life hung by a thread, and all the imperial physicians were helpless.

In the end, it was Qi Si who used the royal family's silk-binding gu to keep her alive, sharing life and death with her.

If Mei Ruohuan hadn't survived that night, Qi Si would have also died for her because of the Thread-Pulling Gu.

A love spell, a love affair.

To my beloved, our hearts are one, we will share life and death.

Despite his immense power and influence, Qi Si had no wives or concubines and no children, yet he still aroused the emperor's suspicion and the attention of his ministers.

If he has an heir and a weakness—

That would be a hundred times more dangerous than the Pei clan's situation, which was like being boiled in oil over a raging fire.

Pei Yanchuan's expression was calm, but his voice trembled slightly.

"Father—"

He paused, as if weighing the significance of those two words.

Then he looked up, his eyes holding light, but also a sharper edge than the light itself.

"My father... he dedicated his life to the country and its people, never betraying the world. Who on earth wants him dead?"

He didn't say "Uncle Pei".

He said "my father".

The gentle and kind man who taught him to write and to stand tall was always the only father in his heart.

It has nothing to do with bloodline or surname.

I have dedicated myself to the country.

Then the clear breeze and bright moon will no longer be permitted.

Pei Zhao knelt for a long time before the late emperor's palace, the cold bricks chilling his knees. He was not asking for the emperor's boundless grace, but for the provisions for the hundreds of thousands of soldiers on the border and the resettlement of the refugees affected by this year's snow disaster.

Throughout his life, he sought redress for the common people, for the nation, and for Ah Si.

He never pleaded for a single word for himself.

He never even uttered the words, "I like Yaoyao."

Only on a night when I was deeply drunk, I picked up my pen and wrote down half a poem, the ink stains spreading on the rice paper like rain that had not yet fallen.

The next day, after sobering up, he burned it himself.

"Lin'er, the Pei family has committed treason... the evidence is irrefutable."

Qi Si's voice carried a chill, like well water overflowing over bluestone in the dead of winter.

"He was the Grand Secretary and the Chief Minister, and there were always many people who wanted to bring him down."

The boy did not ask any further questions.

He just stood there quietly.

The lamp under the eaves was pushed by the wind, its light and shadow rippled slightly.

A huge fire.

The century-old residence of the Pei clan in Beichuan was burned to the ground.

He burned all the rare books in the library, burned all the imperial inscription "Inheriting the Light" in the main hall, and burned all the Daughter's Red wine buried under the white plum tree.

It also burned away that gentle and refined person who never wronged anyone in his life, but only wronged himself.

The fire started at midnight.

Qi Si galloped wildly for thousands of miles, chasing the stars and the moon, until he arrived at Forgot Snow City, where only ashes filled the sky like black snow falling.

Only on the scorched earth, half a burnt white plum branch still stands.

Just like the Mei clan that was scattered overnight by the north wind back then.

The Mei family possessed integrity, while the Pei family had a refined literary mind.

Two generations of splendor, two great fires.

Ashes.

Qi Si pulled his thoughts back from wandering too far and looked at Pei Yanchuan in front of him.

His son, Qi Si, seems to have grown into another Cheng Hui.

The plum blossoms fall silently, covering up the past.

"Oh."

The boy suddenly chuckled.

Extremely light, extremely cold, like the first crack in thin ice.

"Utterly ridiculous."

His eyes were lowered, his long eyelashes concealing all emotions, leaving only a sharp curve at the corner of his lips.

"Upon ascending the throne and with the world newly settled, the first move he made was to slaughter all those with whom he had played chess in the past."

"Qi Zhan! He's really ruthless!"

He looked up.

His gaze was calm and deep, yet it clearly held the sharpness of a blade.

The lamp under the eaves shines again when the wind stops.

Qi Si sighed softly.

"Lin'er, don't ask about who will win or lose."

His voice trailed off, disappearing into the deeper snow.

"Once this game begins, there is no turning back."

"The winner takes all the pieces."

"The loser collects his bones."