Chapter Six: A Fate That Ends in This Lifetime

The Grand Preceptor of the Kingdom of Liu held the right to attend the morning court, but throughout history, those who held this position were reluctant to become embroiled in political strife. Over time, the ministers in court gradually forgot about this entitlement.

Under the gaze of the assembled officials, the current Grand Preceptor, Liu Zhanyan, entered the court hall. Just below the central throne was the seat reserved for the Grand Preceptor. Though it was rarely occupied, it was always kept immaculate, untouched by dust—a testament to the sovereign’s respect for the position.

The Grand Preceptor, long unseen, made a sudden appearance, sending the ministers into a whirl of speculation. Did he intend to rise again in influence? Or perhaps to form a new faction? Whatever his intentions, none of them believed it boded well.

Yet Liu Zhanyan’s reason for attending court was far simpler than the ministers imagined. Of late, Liu Junlin had appeared troubled, his brow often furrowed in private. In the past, Liu Zhanyan could have discreetly dispatched someone from the Listening Pavilion to investigate, but among the conditions for remaining in the capital, he’d promised his master to sever all ties with that network.

Now, if he wished to learn the truth, he had to uncover it himself. Liu Junlin’s days were spent in only two places: the Imperial Palace and the Grand Preceptor’s residence. The source of his troubles had to lie in one of them.

Liu Junlin himself was the most shocked by his senior brother’s appearance. Still, he did not allow this surprise to disrupt the proceedings of court.

Once more, the elderly minister from the previous day stepped forward, but before he could speak, Liu Junlin interrupted him. “I hope all my loyal ministers will turn their attention to the welfare of the people. Affairs of mine are for me to decide.”

It was an awkward moment for the old minister, who flushed red with embarrassment and was about to withdraw when Liu Zhanyan spoke. Sensing that the root of the issue lay with this very minister, he said, “This is my first time attending court, and there is much I do not yet understand. Please, elder, continue.”

The old minister, moved to tears by the honorific, replied in a trembling voice, “Grand Preceptor, the harem cannot be left without a mistress for even a day, and the kingdom cannot be without a queen.”

Liu Zhanyan was silent. The hall fell into a heavy quiet. At length, he replied gravely, “The elder is absolutely correct.”

At these words, Liu Junlin turned sharply to look at Liu Zhanyan, who kept his head bowed, face impassive, hands clenched tightly around his sleeves.

Liu Junlin’s face turned ashen. From then on, all who spoke did so with trepidation, anxious for the morning court to end. Their wish was granted, and soon the ministers streamed out.

With a wave of his hand, Liu Junlin dismissed the servants. In the blink of an eye, only Liu Junlin and Liu Zhanyan remained in the grand hall.

Liu Junlin’s stern expression melted into one of grievance as he embraced Liu Zhanyan from behind, whispering, “Senior brother…”

Liu Junlin had always been gentle in his embrace, and as he rested his head on Liu Zhanyan’s shoulder, the latter barely felt his weight. Liu Zhanyan returned the gesture, his voice low and foreboding. “Junlin, it’s time you married…” You are the ruler of this land. It is your duty to leave an heir. When I am gone, there must be someone to care for you…

Junlin had endured so much for this throne—how could he throw it all away for the sake of Liu Zhanyan?

Besides, Liu Zhanyan himself did not know how much longer he could hold on…

Liu Junlin’s gaze darkened. Without a word, he pressed a point on Liu Zhanyan’s neck, whispering in his ear, “As you wish, senior brother.”

Days later, Liu Junlin issued a decree: he would wed the Grand Preceptor immediately.

Though the announcement was sudden, in truth Liu Junlin had been preparing for this since the moment Liu Zhanyan returned to the capital. Now that all was ready, the time had come for the wedding.

Unexpectedly, there was little opposition, whether in court or among the people. All agreed that marrying the Grand Preceptor was a blessing for the kingdom.

Liu Zhanyan was still in deep slumber, so the ceremony was kept simple. Liu Junlin invited his master, his second master, Tieqing, and others to attend. Qingyu drank himself into a stupor, loudly demanding that Liu Junlin compensate him for losing such a fine disciple.

Tieqing helped the drunken Qingyu to a side room. Uncle Wen came over and spoke a few words. “The reason public opinion is so unanimous is that your master guided it. He’s not happy, but don’t let it trouble you. As long as you two can live well together, that’s enough.”

“I know,” Liu Junlin replied.

Uncle Wen patted Liu Junlin’s shoulder and left, hands clasped behind his back. In the hall and courtyard, the brothers of the Listening Pavilion were reveling. Quietly, Liu Junlin slipped away to the inner quarters of the Grand Preceptor’s residence.

The room was ablaze with candlelight. Liu Junlin opened the door and closed it behind him. The man on the bed stared blankly at the wedding robe he wore—an expression Liu Junlin found endearing.

The room was awash in red decorations. Liu Junlin wore a robe matching Liu Zhanyan’s. Though Liu Zhanyan’s face betrayed a hint of helplessness, his heart brimmed with joy at this foolish man.

Liu Junlin picked up the wine cup from the table. The wine had been specially prepared—gentle on the body and sweet on the tongue. Pouring two small cups, he approached Liu Zhanyan.

Liu Zhanyan accepted his cup knowingly. Liu Junlin sat beside him, hands trembling with unaccustomed nerves, stammering, “S-senior brother, let’s… let’s drink the wedding wine.”

With one hand, Liu Zhanyan entwined his fingers with Liu Junlin’s, and with the other, he looped around Liu Junlin’s arm. Together, they drank, and Liu Zhanyan teased, “You should say, ‘After this wine, you are my husband, and I am yours.’”

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Liu Zhanyan tossed their cups aside, wrapped his arms around Liu Junlin’s neck, and whispered, “My good husband, a night like this is worth a thousand pieces of gold!”

Liu Junlin swallowed hard. Dressed in his wedding robe, Liu Zhanyan looked dazzling, and Liu Junlin could not restrain himself. He pressed Liu Zhanyan beneath him, drew the bed curtains, and the room filled with sounds that set hearts racing.

Life changed little thereafter, save that Liu Junlin visited the Grand Preceptor’s residence more and more, until finally he moved in permanently. Another winter arrived in the cycle of seasons.

As before, after court Liu Junlin hurried home, his heart heavy with foreboding.

Upon arrival, he went straight to the study, where Liu Zhanyan reclined, reading. In the courtyard, the transplanted plum blossoms were in full bloom, but not even their beauty compared to Liu Zhanyan’s smile in Liu Junlin’s eyes. Liu Zhanyan set his book aside, his face pale, and greeted him softly, “You’re back.”

Liu Junlin warmed himself at the brazier before approaching, gently lifting the frail Liu Zhanyan and lying down with him on the chaise.

With a trembling smile, Liu Zhanyan picked up the book he’d been reading all morning, turning to a page now yellowed with age. The words were still faintly visible: “Senior brother, I miss you.” Below that, two new words had been added: “Foolish man.”

Tears rimmed Liu Zhanyan’s eyes, his vision growing blurry. Suddenly, the book slipped from his hand, breaking the silence. Spent, he collapsed in Liu Junlin’s arms. “Junlin, you must take good care of yourself…”

Every time Liu Zhanyan refined a drop of his own blood essence, he hid it in Liu Junlin’s favorite pastries. After two such extractions, his life was sustained only by his master’s medicine. Forgive his selfishness; he could not bring himself to perform a third, preferring to spend every moment he could at Liu Junlin’s side, even if it was only a little longer. In the end, he could not bear the thought of Liu Junlin seeking comfort with another, even after he was gone. In this life, Liu Junlin’s heart had room for only one Liu Zhanyan.

Looking at Liu Junlin’s haggard face, Liu Zhanyan spoke with great effort, every word heavy, but Liu Junlin heard him clearly. He held Liu Zhanyan tightly, biting his lip to keep from crying out. Don’t go, don’t leave me—their good days had only just begun. There were still so many things he wanted to do with his senior brother, so many words left unspoken…

Liu Junlin lowered his head, showering Liu Zhanyan’s forehead with kisses. Scorching tears fell onto Liu Zhanyan’s face, sinking deep into his heart. With effort, Liu Zhanyan reached up to touch Liu Junlin’s face, who seized his hand, covering it with kisses. Liu Zhanyan laughed, his joy radiant, “You fool, live well.”

And so, smiling, Liu Zhanyan breathed his last. His body was still warm in Liu Junlin’s arms as the latter wept, his voice hoarse and broken. Gently, Liu Junlin dressed Liu Zhanyan in a cloak, gazed tenderly at his senior brother, and kept his secret.

In the bustling capital, a carriage slipped unnoticed through the gates. Inside, Liu Junlin’s eyes were red as he frequently adjusted his embrace to keep his beloved resting comfortably.

He knew his senior brother had long wished to return to the temple in the mountains, to see their master again. Now, he was taking him home—their home. Without pause, the carriage traveled to the Zixu Monastery.

Carrying his senior brother up the mountain, Liu Junlin was oblivious to how cold his companion had grown. Qingyu, opening the temple doors, was stunned into a daze and returned to his chamber as if his soul had departed.

Liu Junlin continued to carry Liu Zhanyan, showing him all the places they had known together, until they reached the spot where they first met. He felt incredibly fortunate to have encountered his senior brother in this life.

There, he had secretly ordered the construction of a small underground palace and, above, erected a stele. He opened a hidden mechanism and entered the innermost chamber, where a massive coffin waited. Climbing in with his senior brother, he drank the poison he had prepared for himself. Senior brother, how wonderful—it’s just us now, and we’ll never be parted again.

You’ll never know, my foolish senior brother, that all my striving for the throne was only so I could stand openly by your side. Without you, what use would I have for the throne?

He had always known about the blood essence his senior brother secretly refined for him. But in this life, the only person he wished to love and touch was his senior brother—no one else.

What his senior brother didn’t want him to know, he pretended not to see. What his senior brother wished for—whether a grand wedding or his own happiness—he granted, to ease his beloved’s parting.

But the road to the underworld is so dark—how could he let his senior brother travel it alone?

Barely a year after ascending the throne, the new king of Liu vanished mysteriously, leaving behind a single edict naming the favored concubine’s son—the true little prince Liu Junlin—as heir.

The position of Grand Preceptor was filled by the previous holder, and the ministers raised no objections.

Another winter came. Behind the stele near Zixu Monastery, a tomb had been built. Books lay atop the grave, and Cuihua, leading the mountain boy, placed pastries before it.

“Mother, who’s sleeping in there?” the child asked in confusion.

Cuihua looked up at the first drifting snowflakes and smiled. “Two very good, very happy brothers sleep there.”

Friends, may you travel well on your journey…