Chapter 247: Defeated in Spirit

The night lay across the long street like a dark blade of forged iron—one that, if struck, would surely draw blood and shatter bones. Ahead lay only peril; behind, no refuge. Arrows sliced through the air, embedding themselves in the backs of the fleeing. Figures collapsed one after another; hooves thundered along the Vermilion Bird Avenue, trampling not only the pavement but also the spilled blood beneath. Splattered droplets mirrored the desperate faces of the fallen.

Yan Congzheng clutched the child tightly and galloped away like a streak of dust. He ignored the prisoners' desperate cries, their pleas and sobs. Even seeing his father limping painfully forward did not halt him. He ceased to be a dutiful son or a loyal subject of the emperor. From this moment onward, he would be true only to himself.

Before the Kaiming Gate, Yan Congzheng hesitated briefly. East beyond lay four bustling streets, then the Lotus Garden. In the garden, the waters of Qujiang Pool flowed from an underground passage beneath the city wall. Li Ce had instructed him to seek Ye Jiao there. Was this a secret escape route? Yet he had originally resolved to storm the city gate. Guarded by the Wuhou, closely allied with the imperial troops, perhaps he could force his way through.

But Li Ce said, if Yan trusted Ye Jiao, he should head to Qujiang Pool. The horse neighed sharply and veered. Guards pursued relentlessly, reinforced by patrolling Wuhou and imperial soldiers.

"Move aside!" shouted the soldiers, spurring their mounts to close the distance. Most fleeing prisoners were slain; some who knelt and begged were captured. The streets lay deserted, save for the occasional drunken man staggering and asking bewilderedly, "What's going on? What's happening?"

A soldier drew his sword, bellowing, "Clear out!" The drunken man sobered enough to stumble aside, only to fall into the gutter beside the road.

The drainage ditches flanking Vermilion Bird Avenue—known as the Imperial Ditches—were over a meter wide and deep, thick with mud, vermin, and filth. Anyone who fell in might escape, but would reek for days.

A hapless carriage fared no better. Spooked by fleeing prisoners, it swerved to the roadside, only to be cursed and driven by soldiers. Its wheel toppled into a ditch, leaving just the gilded roof tilted askew. Inside, a woman wept bitterly, cursing, "How dare you! Even you bully me! Waaa…"

A woman clad in red, however, did not cry. She was the first to climb out and stood atop the carriage roof, shouting, "Who dares show such audacity? Where is Bai Xianyu? Come out and face me!"

Her fierce tone suggested these women were not without status. Yet the soldiers had no time to placate nobles—the priority was the prisoner pursuit. If the rebels escaped, they too would be punished. Besides, Bai Xianyu was the Wuhou's man; these soldiers were not. Let Bai Xianyu take the blame.

Outside the Lotus Garden, high steps and barred gates awaited. Yan Congzheng dismounted, took Li Beichen's hand, and entered. No guards stood watch—surely Ye Jiao had cleared them away.

A narrow dragon boat rested on Qujiang Pool. On it stood a figure dressed in tight black attire, her hair tied up in a masculine style, her face concealed by a black cloth. She stood silently, her silhouette like a painting. Tonight, they wore the same clothes, the same guise.

"Board the boat," she said to Yan Congzheng.

Unease gripped him. He squeezed Li Beichen's hand. "You get off. I'll go alone. I know the way through the passage."

"No," Ye Jiao replied, "the passage is a ruse—to make them think you'll escape that way."

Yan Congzheng stood rooted, unable to read her expression, but saw the calm, clear light in her almond-shaped eyes. She was different—braver and wiser.

"Not fleeing?"

"No," Ye Jiao said. "Tonight, Li Beichen must die. Only then will Lady Lu's heart break, the emperor's peace be restored, and we truly live."

To die, yet to live—an enigmatic phrase. Yan Congzheng understood: to uproot the grass completely. Though the emperor might be reluctant, as long as Li Beichen lived, he would grow, gain the remnants' support, and bring more bloodshed.

Li Beichen must be erased—dead in the records—so even if he grew up, he could never prove his identity and would be free.

"How?" he asked.

"You must live," Ye Jiao said. "Afterward, find a way to escape and return to the Yan estate. You are burned, barely alive, lying in the Yan mansion awaiting the imperial doctor."

"Burned?" Yan Congzheng's heart jolted wildly.

"Yes," Ye Jiao gently paddled; the boat scraped the bank softly. "I know you despise life, despise office. But tonight, you must endure—so you don't drag me down."

Without hesitation, Yan Congzheng took Li Beichen aboard, then paused.

"I guess we must wait," he sighed, gazing at Ye Jiao.

"Yes," she smiled, a shared silent understanding like years ago—on the third day of the third lunar month, when they played by the wild waters, dived simultaneously pretending to drown, scaring Yan Shuangxu to tears. Years had passed; no longer were they impetuous youth. Fate divided them like earth and sky, yet brought them together like storm and wind.

For the quarter hour before the pursuers arrived, Yan Congzheng's eyes never left Ye Jiao's face. This was the last time—last time to speak so much, to covet her, to yearn. After today, only gratitude and respect would remain—for her, for Li Ce, and for the bittersweet memories.

They could never grow old together, nor would Li Ce ever swim in lakes with the fourteen-year-old her again. Enough—he had already been blessed by heaven, only forgotten.

He watched quietly until footsteps and shouts rose: "Here! They're escaping by boat!"

Arrows flew; Yan Congzheng deflected them with his blade. Soldiers lunged; Ye Jiao paddled fiercely. Though skilled at swimming, her rowing was slow. The soldiers caught up and overturned the boat.

All plunged into water, yet fought fiercely. Li Beichen, unable to swim, cried for help, sinking and rising.

Yan Congzheng shielded him. Ye Jiao was blocked by a sword-wielding soldier. Arrows still flew from the shore. Dawn cast a faint light on the spreading red blood.

Ye Jiao heard Li Beichen's anguished screams and turned to see a soldier strike, his blade slashing through Li Beichen's eye.

With great effort, Yan Congzheng pushed Li Beichen up. More soldiers closed in.

"Let go!" Ye Jiao commanded.

Without hesitation, Yan Congzheng released his grip. Almost simultaneously, water covered Li Beichen's head, bubbles trailing behind.

Yan Congzheng dived, felt a shove, then surfaced—Ye Jiao had vanished.

The dawn failed to pierce the lake's depths; darkness enveloped the bottom. Yan Congzheng swam away.

He once planned to flee with Li Beichen, but Li Ce and Ye Jiao had a better plan. He would trust her—entrust his will to live and his faith to her and Li Ce.

He surrendered utterly—in spirit, in will.

The prison break alarm reached the palace while the emperor rested in the Lìzhèng Hall. Occasionally, he spent nights in the empress's chambers to quell rumors of favoritism toward concubines.

Awakened suddenly, the emperor's mind raced before steadying. "Who is it?" he asked.

A Dali Temple official reported from outside the hall: "Unknown, Your Majesty. Some say Lord Yan, but it was too dark to be certain."

"Yan Congzheng?" the emperor questioned. "Didn't you say they had gunpowder? Is our Tang gunpowder for anyone to use?"

"Well…" Gao Fu hesitated. "Just before the break, Yan's mansion was set ablaze. We heard Lord Yan was injured and sent for treatment outside the palace gate."

Injured and seeking healing—how then could he lead a prison break?

"Have the imperial physicians been sent?" the emperor asked anxiously.

"That is... irregular, Your Majesty."

"What irregularity?" the emperor's displeasure flared. "The best burn doctors are here in the palace. If we don't save them, why keep them?"

Gao Fu bowed repeatedly. The awakened empress brought hot tea to the emperor. Taking a sip, he said, "Send the crown prince. Whether for the prison break or the fleeing prisoners, all are to be executed on sight. No further reports."

He furrowed his brow, clutching his chest. Was Li Chen's child among the escapees? Once he had accompanied Li Chen to an audience, watched Li Chen massage his feet, sweetly promise to serve the emperor when grown. That child had clear, moist eyes.

Hesitant, the emperor said, "Summon Prince Chu; he will go as well."

The official bowed but lingered.

"Anything else?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," the official said. "During the pursuit tonight, our guards hastily drove a carriage into the Imperial Ditch."

A minor mishap hardly warranting blame, the emperor grew impatient.

The official added, "It was… the carriage of Prince Zhao's residence."

The emperor raised his eyes; the empress gasped, "Who was inside? Has Prince Zhao gone out?"

"Not His Highness," the official replied. "I did not see personally, but a woman cried inside—likely Princess Zhao—and another stood atop the carriage in red, cursing Bai Wuhou Chang. I suspect…"

"She called him 'Bai Wuhou Chang'?" the emperor asked.

"She called him 'Bai Xianyu,'" the official answered.

"No need to guess," the emperor said. "That is the Princess of Prince Chu—once the Wuhou's lady, arrogant and bold enough to order Bai Xianyu to leave."