novelSusiti Chapter 445 Qin Mu Begins the Reckoning! Han Zhong's Fear!
Chapter 445 Qin Mu Begins the Reckoning! Han Zhong's Fear!
Qin Mu sat on the dragon throne in the Golden Palace.
The candles inside the hall had been changed several times, their orange-red glow spreading across the sandalwood floor, intertwining with the twilight filtering through the windows, flickering uncertainly.
He had changed into a solemn dragon robe, the black ceremonial robe embroidered with a five-clawed golden dragon in gold thread, its head held high and its body coiled, as if it were about to burst out of the robe and soar to the heavens in the candlelight.
The pearl and jade tassels on the twelve-tasseled flat crown covered most of his face, revealing only his hard jawline and slightly upturned corners of his mouth.
His gaze swept indifferently over the empty hall, over the golden pillars with coiled dragons, and over the palaces that lay silent in the twilight, like giant beasts lying on the ground.
"Go and convey my decree to summon all civil and military officials to court. Also, bring the disgraced official Han Zhong to the palace."
The head of the guards on duty at the side of the palace quickly stepped forward, knelt on one knee, clasped his hands and bowed his head, the clinking of his armor producing a crisp metallic scraping sound.
"As you command!"
He stood up, turned around, and strode out of the palace gate. His boots clicked on the gold bricks, and he quickly disappeared into the twilight outside.
The palace doors slowly closed behind him with a soft "bang".
Inside the vast Tianqi Hall, only Qin Mu remained.
The candlelight burned quietly beside him, casting his shadow on the tall, imposing golden brick wall behind him, like a silent, god-like figure looking down upon all living beings.
Qin Mu leaned back on the dragon throne, resting his chin on one hand, his posture languid.
His gaze fell on the deepening twilight outside the palace gates, on the palace lanterns that were being lit one by one, and the smile on his lips deepened.
Han Zhong, it's time to settle your scores.
He had already foreseen the ending for this two-faced man. The ending was written long ago, in that military camp on the southwestern border, when Han Zhong knelt before him, his forehead touching the cold gold bricks, his face streaked with tears and snot.
He had been waiting for this day, to return to the capital, to wait for everything to settle down, to wait for Han Zhong to think there was still a glimmer of hope before crushing that last hope.
Qin Mu waited quietly, waiting for the civil and military officials to file in, waiting for Han Zhong to be brought into the hall, and waiting for the trial he had long awaited to begin.
........
Meanwhile, in the southeast corner of the capital, at the Han residence.
Dusk seeped in through the cracks in the window, spreading a layer of hazy, gray light on the ground.
The study was dark, and Han Zhong sat behind his desk, his whole being hidden in the shadows, like a forgotten, dusty stone statue.
He's been sitting like this all day.
He sat there from dawn till dusk, without moving an inch, not even a finger.
A military treatise lay open on the table, its pages yellowed and its edges worn. It was the military strategy he loved to read in his youth, but now, though his gaze fell upon the pages, he couldn't concentrate on a single word.
He returned, but in a sorry state, with his army.
The official explanation was that he failed to wipe out the Moon Goddess Cult, and instead lost many soldiers, suffering a crushing defeat.
This is the task His Majesty entrusted to him, and it is also His Majesty's order.
Of course, even without the order from His Majesty, if he had followed Xu Longxiang's plan, the final outcome would have been the same.
So no matter what, the ending will be the same.
However, unlike Xu Longxiang's plan, he might be fine.
But if His Majesty's plan is followed, his final fate will be tragic.
After all, His Majesty already knew about his affair with Xu Longxiang. He was only alive now because His Majesty still wanted him as a pawn. And what he promised His Majesty was that after completing this mission, he would only kill him and not harm his family.
Han Zhong's fingers slowly tightened inside his sleeve, his nails digging into his palm, a sharp pain shooting through him, but he was completely unaware.
Those images echoed repeatedly in his mind, from Xu Longxiang's nighttime visit to the military camp to his promise to let Xu Longxiang go in the woods, from Zhou Cheng's advice to ask His Majesty for help to Fan Li appearing in the tent, from him poisoning Liu Baijiu to the moment His Majesty lifted the tent flap and walked in.
Every detail was like a dull knife, cutting into his heart again and again.
He regretted it. He had been regretting it all the way back to the capital from the southwest. With each step he took, the regret deepened, like a venomous snake crawling out from the deepest part of his heart, biting his heart, and injecting venom into his blood vessels, burning his internal organs.
He shouldn't have listened to Xu Longxiang in the first place, otherwise he wouldn't have ended up in this situation.
If he had flatly refused Xu Longxiang back then, if he had directly reported Xu Longxiang's whereabouts to the court, if he hadn't sent Zhou Cheng to seek help.
Then none of this will happen.
He was still the General Who Guarded the South, still Han Zhong who commanded 50,000 elite troops, still Han Zhong whose family was safe and sound and who had a clear conscience.
But there are no "what ifs" in this world.
He can't go back, he can never go back.
The study door was gently pushed open without making a sound.
A slender figure walked in carrying a tray, her steps light as a swallow, her skirt trailing on the ground, making a soft rustling sound, like a cloud being blown by the wind.
Han Zhong's wife, Liu Ruolan, is thirty-seven years old and still retains her charm.
She wore a light purple skirt with a matching light purple shawl over it. Her long hair was styled into a cloud-like bun, with a jade hairpin inserted in her hair. The tassel on the hairpin swayed gently by her cheek.
Her skin was fair and delicate, like the finest mutton fat jade. Her eyebrows and eyes carried the gentleness and charm unique to women from Jiangnan. There were a few very fine lines at the corners of her eyes, but instead of diminishing her charm, they added a touch of mature womanly allure that was captivating.
Her waist remained slender, her breasts full, her hips rounded, and her gait graceful yet dignified.
She walked to the desk and gently placed the tray on it.
On the tray sat a celadon bowl filled with amber-colored ginseng soup, the rising steam obscuring her face.
Liu Ruolan bent down, held the soup bowl in both hands, and carefully placed it in front of Han Zhong, placing it beside him with the gentleness of a fragile piece of porcelain.
"My husband, this is a ginseng soup that I specially brewed for you. You've been feeling restless these past few days; drinking this might help."
Her voice was very soft and gentle.
Her voice had a soft, gentle quality unique to women from Jiangnan, like glutinous rice candy—sweet, soft, and meltingly sweet.
Han Zhong looked up at her.
The twilight streamed in through the window, illuminating her face and making her gentle, concerned features exceptionally clear.
Her eyes were full of worry, her brows were slightly furrowed, a faint knot formed between her eyebrows, and her lips were pursed, as if she was enduring something.
Han Zhong's eyes suddenly stung.
The more his wife acted this way, the more reluctant he was to die.
Looking at her virtuous appearance, at her cooking soup for him late at night, at her forcing a smile to comfort him despite her obvious worry, his heart felt like it was being squeezed, aching and bitter, so painful that even breathing became difficult.
But it was precisely because his wife was so virtuous that he had to die.
Only by his death can this family be saved, can she be saved, can the children be saved, and can the lives of dozens of people in the Han family be saved.
He cannot allow them to be dragged down by the mistakes he made alone.
This was the last thing he could do as a husband, a father, and the pillar of the Han family.
Thinking of this, Han Zhong felt even more sorrow and regret.
He took the ginseng soup, holding it in both hands, his fingertips trembling slightly, the soup rippling in circles.
He lowered his head, looking at the amber-colored liquid and at his own reflection.
That pale, thin, and tired face.
His lips parted slightly, his voice hoarse, carrying a deep-seated weariness and guilt.
"Thank you... Madam."
His voice was very soft, as soft as a withered leaf falling from a branch.
The lady smiled, a gentle and bright smile, like a flower blooming in the spring breeze.
She reached out and gently patted Han Zhong's leg, the gesture natural and affectionate.
"My lord, it's just a defeat. It's nothing. I believe even if His Majesty blames us, it won't be too severe. After all, our Han family has served His Majesty faithfully, and you, my lord, have considerable prestige in the army. I believe His Majesty will only give a symbolic punishment, at most a reduction in salary, a decrease in military power, or a demotion to another position. It's nothing serious. We can start over."
Her voice was gentle yet firm.
She wasn't just comforting him; she genuinely believed that His Majesty would remember the Han family's years of contributions, that His Majesty would show leniency, and that the Han family would be safe.
Looking at his wife's virtuous and comforting manner, and seeing the undisguised trust and reliance in her eyes, Han Zhong felt even more bitter, as if he had swallowed a whole bowl of bitter herbs, so bitter that he couldn't even speak.
If it were just a defeat, it wouldn't be so bad, and he wouldn't be as worried as he is now.
Because if it were just a defeat, then as the lady said, there would indeed be a reduction in salary or a demotion.
But things are not that simple.
He suffered not only defeat but also the charge of rebellion.
This is a crime punishable by the extermination of nine generations of one's family.
Han Zhong felt a bitter taste in his mouth, as if a dull knife was slowly cutting into his heart.
But he couldn't say it out loud, because these were all His Majesty's plans.
If even one more person finds out, that person won't survive either.
He must take this secret to his grave, so that no one knows and no one is implicated because of him.
He forced a smile, a stiff and bitter smile, like a flower struck by frost, its petals withered and curled, drooping precariously from the branch.
"What you say is true, Madam. I believe His Majesty is so wise that he will not make things too difficult for the Han family."
He spoke in a steady voice, but his fingers were clenched tightly in his sleeves, his nails digging into his palms, and blood seeped out.
The lady looked at him, her gaze lingering on his face for a moment.
Her brows furrowed slightly, the furrows were very subtle, and her brows were knitted into a very faint knot.
My husband's expression was off, his voice was off, his eyes were off, and even his forced smile was off.
She knew him too well. They had been married for nearly twenty years. She knew exactly how he was when he was happy, sad, or scared.
At this moment, he didn't seem afraid of losing the battle, but rather afraid of something bigger, more terrifying, and more unspeakable.
She bit her lip, her voice a few decibels softer than before, carrying a hint of cautious probing.
"My lord, is there perhaps another reason for this?"