Chapter 133: The Lantern Festival

Chapter 133: The Lantern Festival

When Shen Que entered the room, Jiang Xun was already deeply asleep.

His face was half-buried in the quilt, serene, with a faint flush on his cheeks—he looked utterly at peace. Shen Que extinguished the lantern and sat on the edge of the Emperor's bed. This annex had long been uninhabited, chillingly desolate. He had meant to take the Emperor back, but upon seeing his peaceful slumber, Shen Que hesitated.

The Emperor hadn’t slept this well in a long time.

They had once shared a bed every night. Shen Que was a light sleeper, stirring at the slightest shift from Jiang Xun, so he knew all too well how the Emperor often tossed and turned, struggling to fall asleep for hours. It was rare for him to sleep as soundly as he did tonight.

So Shen Que tucked the quilt around him and left it at that.

Yet he stayed.

He wanted to know why the Emperor had come here alone.

Shen Que had come this way before, but each time he drew near, Wang An would lead him away.

This place was located in the northwest corner of the imperial palace, surrounded by crumbling, abandoned halls. Their walls were peeling, roof tiles choked with weeds. In earlier years, it had housed disgraced concubines and princes, leaving behind many haunting tales. The palace maids and eunuchs steered clear of this place. At night, swallowed by darkness, the halls loomed jagged, spectral, like a haunted palace.

Why would the Emperor come here alone?

Shen Que placed the lantern by his feet and stood to inspect the hall.

The Chenglu Hall had long fallen into disrepair, so he had to move cautiously to avoid making noise.

He traced his fingers along the desk and bed frame, then eased open the wardrobe, where he noticed a small basket pressed inside.

It was an old bamboo clothes hamper, its edges rough, with a faded silk cloth draped over it, covered in dust.

Shen Que carefully lifted a corner of the cloth and peered inside.

It was a jumble of odds and ends.

There were infant-sized clothes, small toys stuffed with cotton, tiny shoes with worn-out soles, and many, many grasshoppers.

He reached in and plucked one out from the pile of clothes.

The thing must have been stored for years—the grass blades had dried and yellowed, becoming brittle enough to snap with the slightest pressure. Yet its shape remained vivid. Shen Que examined it under the moonlight, then suddenly plucked a fresh leaf from the courtyard.

Studying the grasshopper, his fingers moved swiftly, and before long, he had folded a new one, identical to the old.

Then, he placed the small grasshopper back into the hamper, tucked the newly folded one into his sleeve, and continued exploring the courtyard.

The courtyard wasn’t large, and within twenty minutes, Shen Que had a rough understanding of it.

After Jiang Xun ascended the throne, he had sealed off the Chenglu Hall, leaving everything inside untouched—just as it had been when he was a child. Shen Que traced his fingers over the desk, where tiny needle marks remained from Jiang Xun’s mother’s sewing mishaps. He examined the wardrobe, its lower edges bearing irregular bite marks left by a young Jiang Xun gnawing on things. There were other scattered traces as well…

Shen Que began to piece together that a woman and a child had once lived here.

The child had grown from infancy to the age of seven or eight within these small walls.

In the imperial palace, the woman could have been a palace maid, a concubine, or a nanny—but the child could only have been a prince or princess.

A somewhat absurd guess rose in his heart.

Had Jiang Xun… lived here as a child?

His brows knitted together.

After ascending the throne, the Emperor had erased many traces, including this abandoned courtyard. Yet Chenglu Hall was the palace’s most isolated spot. The charcoal brazier in the room still held ashes of the poorest quality coal—the kind that burned weakly with thick smoke, choking the air. No imperial prince or princess should have used such fuel.

How had Jiang Xun lived like this?

In the previous emperor’s disorderly harem, was there truly a prince raised under such conditions?

Shen Que turned his gaze to the bed—a plain cedar frame, unadorned and without curtains, a far cry from the Emperor’s own bed. Yet Jiang Xun lay curled beneath the quilt, deep in untroubled sleep, his usually tense brow relaxed.

As if he had always slept in such a bed.

Hesitating briefly, Shen Que reached out and lightly touched the Emperor’s cheek.

He’d carried Jiang Xun before. The Emperor’s frame was gaunt, and now his face too seemed pale. Shen Que sat by the bedside for a long while, brushing stray hairs behind Jiang Xun’s ear before sighing softly.

*

Xue Jin acted faster than expected. On the third day, victory reports flooded the capital.

For years, Great Wei had been at a disadvantage against the barbarian tribes. This was an unprecedented triumph, and the court erupted in celebration. When Shen Que placed the memorial on Jiang Xun’s desk, the Emperor smiled—a rare sight.

Jiang Xun exhaled slowly, the weight on his chest finally lifting. With relief, he immediately ordered the royal treasury opened for lavish rewards. Even Shen Que was stunned by the decree.

The rewards were so extravagant they nearly emptied the private coffers.

Jiang Xun waved it off, instructing Shen Que to proceed without hesitation. Then he turned to leave for Chenglu Hall, light-footed—only to be stopped by Shen Que.

The Imperial Tutor caught up swiftly, falling into step beside the Emperor. After a brief pause, he smiled. "With the victory news spreading, the people are holding a lantern festival tonight. Would Your Majesty care to see it?"

Jiang Xun tilted his head, curiosity flickering. "A lantern festival?"

The capital held lantern festivals every year, but Jiang Xun had never seen one as a child, confined to the palace.

"Yes," Shen Que said. "This humble servant invites Your Majesty to accompany me. Would that be acceptable?"

The Imperial Tutor had outgrown lantern festivals. He simply wished to bring Jiang Xun some joy.

Jiang Xun: "Hmm..."

Tonight was also when the palace was to be set ablaze. He had prepared oil and dry grass, but attending the festival would delay the plan.

Jiang Xun asked: "66?"

Perched on his shoulder, 66 replied: "Go, Host. I want to see the lanterns too."

Thus, after a guilty pause, Jiang Xun nodded.

This was the first time anyone had invited him out—and it was Shen Que. He couldn’t bring himself to refuse.

They slipped out of the palace at dusk, guards trailing at a distance. The streets teemed with shoulder-to-shoulder crowds. Before Jiang Xun could react, the surge nearly carried him away.

Shen Que yanked him back, then offered his hand tentatively. "Forgive my boldness, Your Majesty may hold onto me."

He smiled. "We mustn’t get separated."

Jiang Xun gingerly lifted his hand—and latched onto two of Shen Que’s fingers.

Shen Que closed his grip in response, making Jiang Xun jerk. He tugged weakly, trapped in that grip.

"..."

It felt strange—no one had ever grasped his hand like this except for his mother.

Shen Que pretended not to notice and walked side by side with the Emperor. As they passed through the brightly lit streets, Jiang Xun’s gaze let his eyes linger briefly on the sugar paintings, pastries, and candied hawthorns along the way. Shen Que asked, "Would you like to try some?"

For the ruler of a nation to indulge in such common treats seemed improper. Jiang Xun frowned and refused, "No—"

Before he could finish, a pastry was already held to his lips.

Shen Que lightly paid for it and said, "This is from a time-honored pastry shop in the capital. I loved it as a child—ah, Shen Xiu and Xue Jin did too. I used this to trick Shen Xiu into doing his homework—never failed. Would you like to try?"

*—What exactly could trick Shen Xiu into doing his homework?*

The pastry rested on his tongue. Jiang Xun tentatively chewed, and the fragrance of plum blossoms burst in his mouth—sweet, soft, and truly delicious.

After that, he was handed sugar paintings, glutinous rice cakes, and other snacks.

Whenever Jiang Xun let his gaze linger at a stall, Shen Que would buy whatever caught his eye, enthusiastically explaining its origins while occasionally adding, "Shen Xiu loved this one," or "Xue Jin loved this."

At the same time, he subtly observed the Emperor’s preferences.

Jiang Xun spat out a sour cake, his tongue tingling. After gulping down a large mouthful of water, he remarked, "Ugh, Shen Xiu’s taste is truly weird."

Shen Que silently noted this and agreed with a smile, "Indeed, it is."

Before they knew it, they had traversed the entire street and arrived by the river. Jiang Xun had never known that the people of Wei had so many snacks—not to mention the flower weavers, acrobats, and all sorts of entertainers. Young couples exchanged kisses beneath the lanterns, while elderly men and women sat nearby chatting. The bustling crowd came and went, filling the scene with liveliness.

He thought, *If not for that disaster, the capital should have always been this prosperous and lively.*

Lanterns drifted on the river. Jiang Xun tugged at Shen Que’s sleeve and asked, "What are they doing?"

Shen Que replied, "Releasing river lanterns and sky lanterns—to entrust prayers to the gods. The water and wind carry the prayers, hoping they’ll be granted."

He picked up the nearest lantern and said, "Ah, look at this one—it says, ‘May every year be as joyful as today, every day as prosperous as this.’ Everyone considers today a very important occasion."

The first major victory against the Northern Di under this reign—of course it was significant.

Jiang Xun gazed distantly at the lantern. "Is that so?"

The day that, in his past life, had brought ruin and displacement to countless people had now become one where they wished for "every year to be as joyful as today"?

He quirked a smile.

Shen Que watched this quietly and gave a slight nod.

*—Finally, there’s some life in him. This trip was worth it.*

They walked along the riverbank for a long time, until half the lanterns had been taken down, the snack stalls began packing up, and the riverside crowd gradually dispersed. Shen Que said, "The night is late, and the wind bites. Your Majesty should return to the palace—don’t catch cold."

Jiang Xun held onto him, hesitating for a moment. "A little longer?"

He had never seen anything like this before tonight.

Naturally, Shen Que agreed.

The river glowed with drifting lanterns as thousands of them floated downstream. Jiang Xun and Shen Que walked upstream along the bank, passing them by. When they finally returned to the palace, Jiang Xun released Shen Que’s hand and murmured softly, "That was nice."

As usual, he did not intend to let Shen Que stay the night. They parted at the gates of Qianqing Palace, and once again, Jiang Xun dismissed all attendants, returning alone to Chenglu Hall.

The winter air in the capital was dry, making fires spread easily. Jiang Xun didn’t even need to prepare much fuel—just the wooden palace and the dry grass in the courtyard were enough to set it on fire.

He took a deep breath and lit the lamp oil.

System 66 floated up: "Su Zhu! I'm ready! Let's begin!"

Jiang Xun: "Right."

He held the candlestick, tilting it slowly as the wax dripped onto the withered grass in the courtyard.

Flames began to grow.

Jiang Xun took a step back and walked into the palace.

This place was remote. By the time the palace servants noticed the fire, he would have finished everything.

Jiang Xun sat on the edge of the bed, his vision gradually filled with waves of red and gold. Black smoke rose from the dry grass, the heat pressing against his face. The smoke stung his eyes, blurring his sight.

System 66: "Su Zhu, we're done. Let's go."

Jiang Xun: "Just a bit longer."

He didn’t know what he was waiting for, only watching as the familiar courtyard was slowly devoured by the flames, as if it were burning away half his life.

System 66: "Oh."

It obediently sat to the side, but after barely two seconds, it pushed at Jiang Xun again: "Come on, Su Zhu! Let's get you back to the modern world!"

Jiang Xun’s lips moved slightly, but in the end, he looked down and said, "Just a bit longer."

Through both his lives, his thoughts and desires had revolved solely around the fall of Great Wei. Now that it was suddenly resolved, he felt empty inside, unable to muster any enthusiasm for returning to the modern world.

Jiang Xun: "...Just a bit longer."

Like a ghost with unfinished business, having drunk the forgetfulness potion yet unsure what it was waiting for, he stubbornly refused to leave.

The courtyard of the Chenglu Palace was now fully engulfed. The fire spread to the chambers, the beams glowing red and ready to collapse. It crawled over the desk, licking at the surface covered in needle marks, and finally reached the wardrobe by the bed—the box containing the grasshoppers and small clothes.

Everything turned to ashes.

System 66 was getting anxious: "Su Zhu, what are you doing? Let’s zone out there, okay?"

The system couldn’t make the decision to leave for its host—it could only wait.

If he didn’t leave now, the fire would reach him.

By this point, the temperature inside had grown unbearably high, the choking, terrifying black smoke reducing everything to faint outlines. Staying any longer would scorch his throat and skin.

Jiang Xun’s vision was already blurred by the heat, leaving only faint outlines. As he swept his gaze one last time over the palace, every corner of which he knew so well, he was about to speak when his sight was suddenly flooded with a patch of vermilion.

Not the vermilion of fire—but the color of a first-rank official’s robe.

At the same time, Jiang Xun heard System 66’s startled cry: "Why is he here?!"