ITIEQ C94

Chapter 94 – The Vast Breath of All Heavens 【END】

The voice was soft, a murmur bitten between lips, sounding like a spell.

Xiao Yuanzheng’s eyes lowered, breath rising and falling with his chest. The youth’s collar was tugged open, his skin whitened once more by winter’s cold into a smooth, ivory luster. Black hair spilled downward, trailing over the deep hollow of collarbones, disappearing where eyes could not follow.

The emperor’s expression had grown dark and deep.

He had lingered at this place far too long. Who in the world would believe, that an emperor’s harem could be left barren for nearly ten years? Even had he not been emperor—wives, concubines, courtesans, handsome young favorites… Desire—what thing more ordinary?

Perhaps for the throne, for the realm. Perhaps to plant stumbling blocks, bleed a little price, and no one would pry further.

He had always thought himself above lust, that worldly passion bore no relation to him.

Until this moment.

The blood he had suppressed flared loose; the entirety of Xiao Yuanzheng reeled, half‑amused, half self‑scornful.

So—the day had come.

When their necks crossed, Shen Qinghe had meant to speak, only to be bitten gently at the Adam’s apple—forcing words back down. Realizing where he had been bitten, he muffled a laugh, shoulders shaking.

“All right, all right.”

Even so, Shen Qinghe did not truly lose his sense, to commit folly in the office of the auxiliary capital. After enough playful teasing, he pulled his collar straight and sat up. The man beside would not have it—hands pressed his shoulders, tumbling him back onto the couch.

The jab landed on a ticklish spot by his waist. Shen Qinghe laughed until breathless, broad shoulders barred across him so he could not rise. Wide hands clamped his chin, smothering laughter until only muffled hums remained.

Nearly suffocated, Shen Qinghe clasped that hand, caressing from wrist to knuckle, brushing the ruby‑set ring upon it. He turned head away. The emperor followed. Shen turned back first, eyes shimmering with wet glaze—dazzling, burning.

“How about—”

Still panting, cheeks flushed from fleeting asphyxia, his expression glinted with excitement.

He felt it clearly—Xiao Yuanzheng, Xiangtai Hall, the secrecy, the delight—sparks flashing across his mind.

“D’you—want to?”

Xiao Yuanzheng’s color shifted. Their bodies only a fist apart. His gaze combed Shen Qinghe’s face, confirming: he was rational, awake—and inviting.

“Qinghe…”

“Mm?”

In an instant Shen Qinghe was hoisted across the emperor’s shoulder. One heartbeat he admired the ruler’s strained restraint; the next, he was captive—inside a hall long unvisited by sovereign, its only bed bare of canopy.

Beaded curtain flung swinging, veiling all spring scenery within.

…

Wheel‑ruts carved frozen earth. Under lead skies, crows wailed, circling. From reed‑dense marshes, half‑collapsed stone pavilions jutted, corners chipped, icicles hanging like inverted blades.

Yue Yin sat astride the shaft, coiling his whip round wrist again and again. Cold wind lashed his face. Lowering hand, he plucked white reeds like rice ears, snapping soft stalks between fingers.

The poor coachman squeezed in a corner, uneasy. “Young Master Yin…”

“Why look at me? Watch the road.”

His complexion still pale. Even renowned physicians of the clan had come along, for the thing that wounded him was vicious indeed. Blades and swords had never daunted him; memory of that strike still chilled their hearts.

Yet heavier than bodily wound was the blow to spirit. A scion once arrogant without rival, now silent, sunken. Since grandfather had shielded them, he had scarcely spoken a handful of words.

“I never thought you would come. The fault is mine.”

Inside, charcoal flickered. Fur robe encircled knees. Yue Ji’s profile seemed to shift with silvered breath. Who knew where thoughts wandered.

“You were the one I taught by hand—the dearest child. Whatever you do as heir of Yue, there is no ‘fault.’”

“Grandfather…”

Lifting heavy eyes, Yue Ji gazed at his venerable elder. Shook his head. “A small defeat is no shame. The world shifts—who knows tomorrow’s form?”

Old Master Yue Lianheng believed he knew this stubborn child. He himself had pulled many thunderous feats in youth. This grandson yet stirred pride. Since Yue Ji had held clan reins, the elder never once interfered. To step forth now meant, even he conceded, the boy faced a foe unanticipated.

“Last night, Yue Jie left a letter. Resigned office. Burned every book in his study.” The elder left it there.

Brows furrowed.

“Ziqing, I watched you grow. Not even of full crown, already unmatched. I wondered if early succession was too soon. Heaven abhors over‑abundance. Being first brings blessings—and troubles. You lack no wit, but too little clumsiness.

“You mastered worldly rules, so triumphed in every match. But now—the rules are rewritten. By someone else.”

“…”

“I have pledged His Majesty: no hand of Yue shall strike that Shen youth.”

“Grandfather!”

The elder’s palm pressed his. His near‑seventy eyes fathomed deep. “Ji’er, pause. To meet a true adversary, to match in earnest—perhaps this is the last lesson you sought.”

Yue Ji’s resolve softened. Since enlightenment he had not for one moment felt lost, until now closing eyes hard. Fine then. He too would see what Shen Qinghe might teach.

“…I understand, Grandfather.”

The old man smiled with quiet pride.

“Under your hand, the Yue clan shall rise higher still. I have never doubted.”

…

On the eleventh of the first month, great snow blanketed the capital. Frost silvered ten thousand homes.

The emperor performed sacrifices to Heaven and Earth. New Year’s first Council was delayed till noon. Solemn beyond compare. In his new home, Shen Qinghe made ready. The emperor had dispatched servants to attire him. Raising arms to be garbed, he listened to Shan Bowen’s report.

“The new campuses were picked at two sites. But I recommend patience—further surveying first. And the new departments you spoke of—we drafted proposals, but implementation demands more funds…”

“…Last, the cross‑border summit you set in Qingbei, fostering exchange with minority peoples. I thought suitable to merge with the new foreign‑language program. You recall student Wulan? With strong background, promised to arrange our outreach abroad.”

Shan closed his notebook. More seasoned each year, already less disciple and more proven admin.

Shen Qinghe echoed key replies. Hands tugged low by attendants, he bent obediently for his coronet to be set.

So many burdens. His dream of idling slug’s days drifted ever farther!

“And—it’s been months since. How are people of Qingbei?”

Shan’s stern air eased, lips smiling. “Not wealthy, but none hungry or cold. Young and old alike thirst to study, long to enter the Academy.”

A full belly and warm clothes—already dream most grand for the era’s commoners. And beyond, something to hope for.

“Then one day you dean a branch—I’d not worry.”

Shan’s eyes jolted up—such a weighty role, his teacher entrusted him?

“Oh my, what a noble aura! Not like any commoner—like a star immortal descended!”

Joyous cry came—an eunuch.

“Traveling day and night, you should rest,” Shen Qinghe sent the student off.

Yuanbao approached beaming. Since little Lord Shen had followed imperial carriage back, Chief Eunuch Jinchang ran here endlessly. Rewards flowed like streams. If not for Grand Eunuch’s duty with His Majesty at Mount Taiwei, Yuanbao’s turn would not have come today.

“Eunuch Yuanbao?” Shen Qinghe in fresh violet robes, jade belt, let attendants smooth wrinkles. He poked out a head. “Didn’t expect you—come, sit, eat something.”

All in purple rank were old and gray; how could there be such lively young face? Compliments aside, Yuanbao was charmed. “My lord—you shine well in violet. They said you were once crowned Flower of Scholars. Not wrong at all.”

“Once…” Shen Qinghe blinked. That long ago?

Yuanbao waited easy. In the palace he’d long judged—this young lord had fortune vast. Crisis to blessing, misfortune to triumph. His bet had been right. At twenty‑some, Master Shen was Secretariat head, keeper of examinations, presiding over the Ministry, ennobled Marquis Wen‑cheng. Layered honors beyond any noble scion. Already brightest star of Kyoto. Future Grand Councillor was nailed firm.

After light chatter, he declared edict. Shen Qinghe turned: “An advance summons to Hanming Hall?”

“Yes—His Majesty’s word.”

“Fast indeed,” the system chimed in. Under main system’s watch, it dared not show form. Cowed, 12431 ceded control, dozing standby.

Shen Qinghe’s promotion days ago had triggered Fourth Phase complete. Yet oddly, no new tasks launched.

Once dressed, he dismissed attendants. “Bugged? What comes next—chancellor, marquis, ruler?”

The system hesitated. Should it report? Shen Qinghe suddenly recalled. “That 00001 once hijacked you. Claimed I did a hidden mission. Linked?”

The system shrieked, voice breaking. “Hidden! Mission!! You triggered one?! Why not tell me sooner!”

“Thought you knew,” Shen Qinghe scratched his ear.

“Hidden quests override all! No other tasks advance once it appears. Such talents are managed direct by Main System!” Cowardly, it fawned, “To exceed quota—you’re my luck charm!”

“Right—the reward is Fortune Points! You’ll really be the protagonist now!” It cheered.

“I need no points to be protagonist.” Shen Qinghe smirked, dashing and arrogant. Newly robed, violet belt gleamed, like a blade unsheathed, demon‑bright.

“I’ve cleared with your superior: stay in human form if you wish. Yong is a fine world. Forget tasks—enjoy yourself.”

The little system whooped, skipping off.

Outside Shen manor, endless line of gift‑bearers. Piles near mountains, visitors breaking thresholds.

Shen Zhao shoved aside in crush, Shen Qingfeng tugged his sleeve, Shen Qingchun hid his face in shame. Father had dragged them here. And they could not even enter!

“Fawning sycophants!” Qingchun cursed. “Didn’t we break with him? Now crawl back—humiliating! A father bringing gifts to son—if it spreads, how embarrassing!”

Sweating, Shen Zhao glared. “He stands on third rank already—your father barely a ministry clerk! His star soars! Do you grasp what that means?”

Even Grand Minister Qi had pried subtly of him—always about Shen Qinghe. Shen Zhao, startled, pieced signs. He had misjudged: neglected the son closest. Fool!

“Let bygones pass. You two—go apologize another day!”

Qingfeng fell silent. Qingchun cried as though butchered.

“No matter! As long as he lives, our Shen clan lives. Understand!”

Crowd bustled. A carriage emerged. Desperate, Shen Zhao pushed up only to be blocked by gleaming spears.

He had scraped through middling all his life. Now saw his son escorted by imperial guards—true dragon in heaven. He muttered regret deep as marrow.

In the carriage, Shen Qinghe toyed with the strings of his new hat. Knocking startled him. He pulled cloth aside.

Yueguang astride stallion, armored bright, spear in hand—righteous as when first they met.

“What is it?”

Yueguang stared. Never saw him in official robes. Startled.

“What?” Shen Qinghe, cheerful, asked again, voice light at end.

After long pause, Yueguang voiced the question held tight: “Are you—together with Brother Xiao?”

Shen blinked. Yueguang—first to ask? He thought him wooden.

“Yes. We’re together.”

Seeing him still stunned, Shen added: “Storm and death alike—we stand so. Do you see?”

Yueguang fell to silence. Shen thought shaken. Chuckled nervously: “Sorry. Your Brother Xiao may be impeached. But I’ll fight too. Don’t fret.”

“That’s not it! …Never mind.” Yueguang’s eyes shifted, fixed straight. “I return to the Northwest.”

“So soon? With matters settled, stay awhile. Or your Brother Xiao ordered?”

“Capital is dull. I cannot idle.” His tone faint, but he turned once more.

“Shen Qinghe?”

“Mm?”

“Take care. If ever… if the capital no longer suits—send me word.”

“Good brother,” Shen Qinghe had not thought he’d one day be so candid. “I once vowed to His Majesty I’d be Grand General of the realm. Seems impossible. Let it be yours to fulfill.

“And, Qingbei lies near your post. I plan martial programs. Come guest‑teach?”

Yueguang laughed, cursed. “Already leaving, and still you order me? Only you dare.”

Shen raised brow until Yueguang grudgingly nodded. Solemn: “It’s a long way. Take care, yourself.”

“No need your words.” The white‑clad youth jerked reins, horse turned, leaving carefree back.

Shen Qinghe dropped the curtain. “That one.”

Closing eyes, he thought back over his days in this world. Short—or a lifetime long.

“Greetings, Host.”

That familiar hail. Shen Qinghe opened his eyes. “Main System?”

“Mission complete. I will release oversight.”

Shen startled—an advance notice? “Already complete?”

“Hidden Quest overrides all,” it repeated. “You declined Fortune Points. You lack Heaven’s favor. No halo of protagonist. All you’ve done may be overturned, erased, forgotten. Do you regret?” Though not its protocol, given this world’s lone anomaly, it logged data.

“No matter what follows—I’ve planted fire‑seeds in this land, and within people’s hearts. You systems cannot grasp—but many hate me, and many love me. That is enough.” Shen Qinghe leaned back.

He thought he heard Main System laugh. But listening closer—nothing.

Something in his head lightened. It was gone.

Chariot rolled into palace. He descended upon white jade steps before Hanming Hall.

There, another sterile broadcast:

【Congratulations, Host, Hidden Achievement unlocked — Teacher of Ages. Your virtue shall echo for generations; your words, truth for the future.】

“A gift.” The Main System’s last resonance.

Achievement? For what use?

Noon sun shone, mirrored on snow. Halls wide open. Emperor Zhaohuan at gate, gaze as always—calm, gentle.

Shen Qinghe hurried, palm meeting sovereign’s—gripped tight.

Now his great task was to resolve life’s great matter.

Before Qingbei Academy, the ancient locust once dead had grown new buds. On scarred branches hung wooden boards, students’ prayers tied by red string, chimes clinking in the wind.

Always, he had walked the road pioneers cut, and now he would too be pioneer, carving road for those behind.

Where sparks exist, civilization endures.

—End of Main Text—

Footnotes:

 

 

1. Grand General of All Forces (天下兵馬大元帥) – Supreme commander in imperial structure; Shen Qinghe jokingly aspired to this role.

2. Teacher of Ages (萬世之師) – A Confucian‑esque accolade: title for sages whose teachings shape civilization eternally (compare: Confucius as “Teacher for Ten Thousand Generations”).