The spring of the 6th year of Jianyuan was unlike any before.
The willow catkins of Chang'an had not yet finished flying when the war report from the north arrived. It was not an urgent report, but a victory report. Wei Qing led the army out of Yunzhong, striking the Right贤王 of the Xiongnu, beheading thousands, capturing over a hundred thousand cattle and sheep. This was not the first time. In the 3rd year of Jianyuan, Li Guang went out of Yanmen; in the 4th year, Gongsun He went out of Dai Commandery; in the 5th year, Wei Qing went out of Shanggu—each year further, each year deeper. The Xiongnu had retreated. Not a temporary retreat, but a retreat north, eight hundred li.
Liu Che stood before the map, his finger pressing on the position of Yunzhong. That place was no longer the border. The border was further north, much further north. The youthful air was gone from his face. His angles were sharper, his jawline harder, his lips pressed tight like a blade. But his eyes were still bright—not the brightness of youth, but another kind. Deep, steady, like a deep winter river, flowing slow, but with power underneath.
"Your Majesty, General Wei has passed the Yin Mountains and is pursuing the Xiongnu remnants," Li Guang's voice came from behind. "The Chanyu fled, north. Pursue?"
"No more pursuit," he said. "Further north, supplies cannot keep up. Let them go."
Li Guang withdrew. The hall quieted. Liu Che turned, looking at the empty space beside the Dragon Throne. He was looking at my spot. He knew I was in the workshop. He was always like this. When he fought, I sat here. When he returned, I went back to fixing things.
He walked out of Xuanshi Hall. I knew he would come. The workshop door was open; I sat at the work table, holding a copper mirror. That mirror was from our wedding year, broken into three pieces. I fixed it, took three days. Now I took it out again to fix. Not because it was broken, but because I felt the seams could be finer. My fingers pressed on the mirror surface, very light, like touching a person's face.
He stood at the door, not entering.
"Xingye." He called me.
I raised my head, saw him, and smiled. Not a court smile, not for anyone else. A smile just for him.
"Court dismissed?"
"Mm."
He walked in, sitting opposite me. There were still a few pieces of broken copper mirror on the table, new ones, don't know where collected. My fingers had cinnabar, mineral pigments embedded in the nail seams, exactly like five years ago. But there were more differences. Dark circles under my eyes, left from approving memorials. White strands in my hair, left from these five years.
"Looking at what?" he asked.
"Looking at you."
He paused. Then lowered his head, looking at the copper mirror on the table. His ear roots turned red. Exactly like five years ago.
"Xingye."
"Mm."
"The Xiongnu retreated. North, eight hundred li. They won't come again for a short time."
"I know. I read the report."
"Then do you know why I fought the Xiongnu?"
I raised my head, looking at him. "Why?"
"Because of what you said," he said. "You said, give me three years. In three years, the treasury will be full, the army strong, border defenses solid. You said, then, if you want to fight, I will fight with you."
He paused.
"I fought. You accompanied. Three years, you did it. I did it too."
I looked at him for a long time. Candle flame danced in his eyes, illuminating his face brightly.
"Liu Che."
"Mm."
"You've changed."
"How?"
"You used to fight for yourself. Now, you fight for the world."
He paused. Then smiled.
"You taught me."
That night, Ajiao came.
She stood at the door, wearing plain clothes, a silver hairpin in her bun. The same one from five years ago, never changed. Her hands had new calluses, not from fixing copper mirrors, but from carving steles. She was no longer in the West Market. Her shop closed, not because business was bad, but because she went to the Imperial Academy. She taught students to fix artifacts. Not copper mirrors, but stone classics. The stone classics in the Imperial Academy, weathered, cracked, she fixed them piece by piece. She said, this is the root of Great Han. Cannot be broken.
"Xingye." She called me.
"Come in."
She walked in, sat down. The tea on the table was still hot; she lifted it and drank a mouthful.
"Xingye, I'm leaving."
My hand paused. "Where to?"
"Luoyang. The Imperial Academy is carving new classics; I'm going to fix the stone. Might be a few years."
I looked at her. Her face had wrinkles, not many, but they were there. Her eyes were still bright, but the brightness was different. Before, it was burning brightness; now, it was washed brightness.
"Ajiao."
"Mm."
"Do you hate me?"
She paused. "Hate you for what?"
"Hate me for taking him."
She was silent for a moment. Then smiled.
"No more hate," she said. "Haven't hated for a long time."
She stood up, walking to the door. Stopped, not looking back.
"Xingye."
"Mm."
"You know, I used to think my life had only one path—marry him, be Empress. Later the path broke, I didn't know how to walk. You taught me to fix things. You said, a person must have a craft. No matter what happens later, can support oneself."
She turned, looking at me. Tears fell, no sound, just flowing down the cheeks.
"I fixed copper mirrors for five years. Five years, I knew who I was. Now, I'm going to fix stone classics. Those stone classics will still be here in a thousand years. Carved with Great Han's characters, recording Great Han's matters. I fixed them."
She smiled.
"Xingye, I am not the Empress. But what I fix, lives longer than an Empress."
She left. Footsteps grew distant in the corridor. This time, not disappearing. Heading in another direction. I stood at the door, watching her back. Moonlight hit her, stretching her shadow long, thin, but straight.
Jianyuan Era, Year 6. The 1st Day of the 7th Month. Court Assembly.
Liu Che sat on the Dragon Throne in ceremonial robes, the twelve-string crown. I sat by his side in the Empress's礼服. The atmosphere in the hall was different from five years ago. Five years ago, it was probing. Five years ago, it was fear. Five years ago, there were people waiting for us to lose. Now, no one waited. They knew we wouldn't lose.
"Issue the edict," Liu Che's voice echoed in the hall. "Establish Five Classics Scholars. Promote the Imperial Academy. Recommend the virtuous and talented. All scholars under heaven may come to the capital."
The hall fell silent for a moment. Then someone stepped forward, it was the Imperial Censor. "Your Majesty, this action costs greatly—"
"Grain matters are managed by the Empress," Liu Che looked at him, voice flat. "Ask her."
Everyone turned, looking at me. Over a hundred pairs of eyes. Same as five years ago. But in my hand, there was no silk scroll anymore. Didn't need it.
"The Xiongnu have retreated, border troubles temporarily resolved. Treasury full, people's strength recovered," my voice was flat, like stating a mundane matter. "Now, it is time to cultivate literature. Imperial Academy, stone classics, virtuous and talented—these are the roots of Great Han. When roots are deep, the tree will not fall."
The hall was quiet enough to hear breathing.
"Anyone with objections, speak now."
Silence.
"No objections, proceed as planned."
After court, Liu Che took my hand, walking to the city wall. Sunlight hit us, casting our shadows on the ground, overlapping. In the distance, the northern horizon was clean. No wolf smoke, no beacon fire, only blue sky and white clouds.
"Xingye."
"Mm."
"Do you think, in a thousand years, will anyone remember us?"
I looked into the distance. Chang'an City below the wall, densely packed, endless. Streets, houses, pedestrians, carriages—all moving, all alive. In a thousand years, these people will be gone. This city will be gone too. But the stone classics will remain. Those carved stones will be left. Written on them—Great Han Jianyuan Year 6, Emperor Liu Che, Empress Lu, established Five Classics Scholars, promoted Imperial Academy, recommended virtuous and talented.
"They will," I said. "Not remember us. But remember what we did."
He looked at me for a long time. Then smiled.
"Xingye."
"Mm."
"You know, sometimes I feel you're not from two thousand years in the future."
"Then from where?"
"From two thousand years in the future, coming back," he said. "You fixed so many broken things. Copper mirrors, lacquerware, people's hearts, the court. You pieced together the broken Great Han. What people in a thousand years see, is not the broken one. It's the one you fixed."
I looked at him. The wind blew, scattering his hair. He didn't fix it. His eyes were very bright, like in the snow of Shanglin Park five years ago.
"Liu Che."
"Mm."
"You will be a good emperor."
"How do you know?"
"Because you are Liu Che."
He smiled. Very low, very light, like wind blowing through candle flame. He reached out, taking my hand. His hand was very hot, palm with thin calluses. Five years ago, those calluses were from drawing bows. Now, from approving memorials. But his hand, still hot.
In the summer of Jianyuan Year 6, the willow catkins of Chang'an City finished flying. The stone classics in the Imperial Academy were carved, one after another. The Xiongnu retreated, eight hundred li, and would retreat further. The territory of Great Han pushed north eight hundred li, and would push further. He expanded territory abroad. I rebuilt the foundation at home. We were the two hearts of the empire. One beating on the battlefield, one beating in the court.
[End of Book]