Chapter 142: The Regent’s Expedition
Su Jingzhi’s expression remained perfectly calm.
He let Wei Wanlan take the letter.
It was handwritten by An Tang, penned in the script of Great Wei. The handwriting was identical to the secret letter received in the Imperial Garden previously, with the only difference being the haste in which the ink had been applied.
It looked as if a wolf were chasing him; if he didn’t finish writing immediately, he would lose his life.
The entire letter essentially screamed, “I can’t hold on anymore, send someone to join forces with me to fight the enemy immediately.” It was a cry for help. Wei Wanlan skimmed through it hastily.
He didn’t see anything inappropriate about it.
However, this was indeed an opportunity.
In the Council Hall, many other generals realized this as well and reported one after another:
“Your Majesty, Your Highness, since An Tang has sent a distress letter, his strength has reached its limit!”
“An Tang has already eliminated much of the Turkic active forces for Great Wei. Speed is essential in war; if we delay, Ashina might recover!”
“Your Highness, let us deploy the troops!”
The generals seconded the motion one after another, their voices echoing in unison within the Council Hall:
“We request to deploy troops!”
The moment of separation arrived far faster than anyone anticipated.
Wei Wanlan was still somewhat dazed. Su Jingzhi personally conveyed the decision to go to war to him, making it appear as though Wei Wanlan was the one making the final call.
And how could Wei Wanlan possibly say “no war”?
The Emperor of Great Wei issued the decree: “Permission granted. The Three Armies shall immediately set out on an expedition against the Turks. Let there be no delay.”
Uniform responses rang out in the Council Hall once more: “We shall not disgrace our mission!”
Because it was a forced march, there were no elaborate ceremonies for the grand expedition.
Wei Wanlan only had time to drink a cup of plain tea with the Regent and the generals in the Council Hall; they hadn’t even prepared a farewell wine.
Su Jingzhi looked even taller and more imposing in his battle armor. Wearing gauntlets, he gripped the reins and led the generals out of the Vermilion Bird Gate along the Imperial Bridge. The troops conscripted from various regions were gathering outside the city, while others waited along the route to join the march.
Wei Wanlan couldn’t see these details.
The last thing reflected in his eyes was the golden Qilin pattern embroidered on the back of Su Jingzhi’s cloak.
The Qilin moved further and further away.
Time, however, felt like it was flowing backward.
On the day he first transmigrated, he had watched Su Jingzhi walk toward him. Now, the Regent was walking away, and he had been doing these missions for over half a year.
Su Jingzhi left the city for the expedition. Wei Wanlan followed his routine: returning to Zichen Palace in the afternoon to grade memorials, summoning ministers, meeting the chief examiner for the autumn exams, personally reviewing difficult cases reported by the Drum of Justice… and then calling for meals and eating.
The separation anxiety had indeed been cured somewhat by the Regent’s absurd behavior that afternoon, but it was a treatment for the symptoms, not the root cause.
Because he hadn’t solved the mystery of where those strange dreams came from, he still couldn’t feel at ease about Su Jingzhi’s departure.
Nor could he understand why the Regent, after seeing An Tang’s distress letter, had worn such a grave, heavy expression.
“Your Majesty, the bed has been made. When would you like to retire?”
Just as Wei Wanlan was full of doubts, An Ruyi had finished tidying the dragon bed. Eunuch An was truly top-tier when it came to serving one’s daily needs.
Wei Wanlan just hadn’t expected time to pass so quickly.
He felt as though Su Jingzhi had only just left. Yet, the moon was already high in the sky.
…The army must have traveled quite far by now, right?
A strong sense of unease gained the upper hand again.
Wei Wanlan walked slowly, guided to the side of the dragon bed by An Ruyi. The eunuch served him by taking off his shoes and socks, revealing two snow-white feet.
At that moment, his gaze toward the outside of the bed was caught by a reflection in the mirror. The Nine Dragon Mirror seemed to be attracting his attention.
But Wei Wanlan was a bit resistant.
Would that terrible dream appear again tonight?
Wei Wanlan suddenly stiffened.
Knowing the scenes in the dream were terrifying, he might not be willing to sleep in the bedroom of Zichen Palace tonight. He cast his gaze outward again.
This drew the attention of the sharp-witted An Ruyi.
“Is Your Majesty missing someone by looking at objects?” An Ruyi asked.
Wei Wanlan looked up at the mirror.
The mirror honestly reflected his doe-like eyes, blinking, completely harmless.
When the Nine Dragon Mirror wasn’t inducing dreams, it looked perfectly normal. The surface was clear, and the nine golden dragons around the frame looked majestic and rich, blending perfectly into the top of the bed.
One couldn’t tell at all that this object was a gift from the System.
Wei Wanlan stared at the mirror surface, unsure if he should go sleep elsewhere, his calves dangling and swinging. Then, he asked in a daze:
“Eunuch An, do you dream?”
An Ruyi didn’t know why the Emperor suddenly had this question but answered sincerely, “Everyone dreams. This servant has dreamt as well.”
Wei Wanlan continued the conversation casually, wanting to delay bedtime:
“What did you dream of last time? Hmm… tell We about it.”
“Tell you my dream?”
“Mn.” The little Emperor nodded.
An Ruyi more or less understood; Wei Wanlan couldn’t sleep and wanted someone to relieve his loneliness.
However, Eunuch An didn’t have the audacity to volunteer to sleep on the floor of Zichen Palace to keep watch for the little Emperor. He knew exactly how jealous his other master, the Regent, could get. He was already in a dangerous position; if he hadn’t been castrated, he probably wouldn’t be allowed to appear in front of the little Emperor at all.
So, An Ruyi decided to tell an interesting story to coax the little Emperor to sleep.
“Last time, this servant lost a bunch of keys.”
Eunuch An’s voice was very soft.
It was always like gentle spring water or a warm breeze. As he spoke, he gently lifted Wei Wanlan’s legs, shifting the little Emperor from sitting to lying flat.
Many palace servants in Zichen Palace said they loved looking at His Majesty’s eyes—big, bright, and fluttering, incredibly beautiful.
Eunuch An gazed into those eyes and continued:
“One of the locks associated with those keys secured a belonging of my late father. Years ago, my father was punished for speaking too bluntly to the throne. This servant was saved by the Prince, and my death sentence was commuted to castration. Our home was confiscated; the only thing left from my old home was a brush my father used.”
“I couldn’t find the key, and I was very sad.”
“As a result of worrying about this, I actually dreamed at night. I dreamed of the day I discovered the keys were missing. I remembered the place where the keys hung was near a window. There are always birds and sparrows around Zichen Palace; perhaps one of them mischievously took it away to build a nest.”
“And then…?”
He hadn’t slept well last night, and by now, Wei Wanlan was almost coaxed to sleep. He was humming softly, still trying to respond to An Ruyi.
So, Eunuch An added an ending to his improvised story:
“Following the instructions in the dream, this servant went to every big tree in Zichen Palace, looking up for bird nests. Even when I found one, I didn’t dare poke it randomly, because the birds are allowed to roam free by Your Majesty.”
“I had to beg the sparrows, saying, ‘Oh sparrows, you are His Majesty’s pets, and I am His Majesty’s servant. We serve the same master. For His Majesty’s sake, please, give the key back to me.’ Then, a small sparrow actually flew down with the key in its beak and returned it to me.”
“It shows that Your Majesty’s prestige is enough to move all living things…”
Wei Wanlan fell asleep and was sent back by An Ruyi into the recurring dream.
The difference this time was that he had been inspired by An Ruyi before sleeping.
He vaguely felt that if the Nine Dragon Mirror was a divine artifact, perhaps he could find some mystery related to reality within the dreams it created.
It was still that vast grassland.
Wei Wanlan held two puppies in his arms. His heart sank. He hugged the puppies and rubbed their heads; the two dogs rubbed against his palms obediently, ready to face the sudden wind and snow.
The first snowflake fell.
The snow whitened the grass beneath his feet slightly.
Wei Wanlan frowned. He knew it was the same dream. He had to walk into the heavy snow, deeper into the dream. The further he walked, the more resistance he felt, his feet sinking into snow pits and leaving a long trail of footprints.
The sound of war drums grew closer…
He could hear the sounds of slaughter.
The Wei army and the Turkic army were engaging in battle. Based on past experience, he couldn’t see the combatants, only the images of the Wei army’s defeat and Su Jingzhi’s death.
His heart began to throb with pain.
He didn’t know how he would see the Regent’s corpse this time. He couldn’t accept it no matter what. Just as he was unable to mentally prepare himself, a patch of blood appeared on the snow, blindingly red.
Wei Wanlan tilted his head slightly.
When he came back to his senses, he was once again on that battlefield—fallen flags, broken armor, and remnants of soldiers.
He saw Su Jingzhi lying in the snow, covered in wounds, practically a man made of blood. Amidst the spasms in his limbs caused by pain, he was losing consciousness, his fingertips trembling slightly.
“Your Majesty…”
“Little Wan.”
Overwhelmed by intense sorrow, he squatted down, putting down the two puppies to support Su Jingzhi. But the Regent was already stiffening in his arms. Death had arrived.
Wei Wanlan was crying, about to wake up again.
At this moment, a shred of reason remained, reminding him that he was in a dream. The events in the dream hadn’t happened yet. The terror in the dream was temporary; his goal was to prevent the dream from reflecting into reality.
He put down the Regent of the dream, telling himself that this Su Jingzhi was not his.
He picked up the whining puppies from the ground, wiped his tears, and observed the battlefield and the blizzard that existed simultaneously with the chaotic war. He wanted to see if he could reach another place in the dream or encounter something else that provided information.
Wei Wanlan continued to traverse the battlefield.
The wind was extremely cold.
The sinister, chilling wind almost pierced through his bones.
The snow grew thicker, and his feet were about to freeze.
He began to walk slowly, eventually becoming barely able to move an inch due to the wind and snow.
Sometimes he had to grab onto a spear shaft left by someone on the battlefield with both hands to maintain his balance, tucking the two pitiful dogs into his robe… until the wind and snow subsided a little. He quickened his pace, exploring along the edge of the battlefield.
—He discovered that this dream was indeed not a closed loop.
The dream felt real wherever he went.
Behind two shields propped up to form an angle on the battlefield, he found a soldier who was half-dead. The man was still breathing. Because the place where he fell offered some shelter, he had managed to catch his breath and hang on to life.
The man was wailing in the ruins of the battlefield.
Wei Wanlan quickly ran over to support the Wei soldier:
“Brother, wake up! Wake up!”
His repeated calls finally elicited a response from the wounded man.
The moment the man saw Wei Wanlan, his eyes lit up, flickering with a desire to live.
Wei Wanlan discovered the man was fatally wounded, pierced through the abdomen by a saber. Because the blade hadn’t been pulled out, the blood had coagulated, temporarily preventing massive blood loss.
Wei Wanlan felt pain on his behalf, suppressing his discomfort regarding how human life was treated like grass on the battlefield, and asked him:
“Why did this battle come to this?”
The soldier called for help while looking at the sky layered with black clouds, speaking intermittently:
“Turks, heavy snow… We had military advisors skilled in predicting the weather in our army, but no one… could have anticipated…”
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