Chapter 61: Chapter 60. Heartbreaking Poems about the Past.

Chapter 60.

The earth roared and twisted violently, shaking the mountains to their core.

The first tremor crept in from beneath their feet, a deep rumble like a stampede of a thousand horses charging past. Moments later, everything began to shudder—trees swayed, houses quivered, and the ground became too unstable to stand on.

Jagged cracks ripped through the earth, spreading like a spider's web.

On the precarious slope of the mountain, the fortress of Xieshizhai trembled uncontrollably. Even amidst the chaos, Yin Chengyu's sharp ears caught the frantic cries and pounding footsteps of people fleeing down the mountain.

Loose rocks broke free from the cliffs, crashing down with deafening thuds, throwing up clouds of choking dust.

It all happened in mere seconds. Yin Chengyu stood frozen, staring at the distant Xiao Pan Mountain. His keen eyesight allowed him to see clearly the countless fissures splitting open the sheer cliff faces. A heavy, ominous feeling gripped his chest.

He took two steps back, instinctively grabbing Xue Shu's wrist. "The mountain’s collapsing. Order the retreat, now!"

Boulders tumbled down the slopes in increasing numbers, the debris drawing closer by the second. Xue Shu shielded Yin Chengyu with his body, his voice low and resolute. "I’ll escort Your Highness out of here first!"

Yin Chengyu’s grip tightened on his arm. "No! Issue the retreat order first!"

Their eyes locked. Xue Shu saw the unyielding determination in Yin Chengyu’s gaze. He knew the crown prince would never abandon his soldiers to save himself. Without wasting another moment, Xue Shu turned and sprinted to find the signal officer.

As he ran, Xue Shu barked orders to the officers he encountered, his voice cutting through the panic like a blade. "Sound the retreat! Get everyone as far from Xiao Pan Mountain and Fu Hu Ridge as possible—NOW!"

The troops, numbering over ten thousand from the Four Guards Battalion and Qingzhou’s forces, had been stationed on the open plains below the fortress, encircling its exits. But in the face of catastrophe, even issuing the retreat order to such a large force took precious, agonizing time.

When the earth first shook, the soldiers flinched, but they quickly regained their composure. In the northern territories, tremors were not unheard of. Most had been trained to seek open ground and wait for the shaking to pass. Panic would only get them killed.

By the time Yin Chengyu and Xue Shu reached the command tent, the soldiers had already gathered outside, awaiting instructions.

"Retreat!" Yin Chengyu’s voice was sharp, commanding, and urgent. "Leave everything—supplies, equipment, all of it. Just get out now!"

For the first time, the crown prince’s face betrayed his fear, his orders tumbling out fast and firm. The ground beneath them continued to quake, the tremors growing stronger with each passing moment. It was nearly impossible to stand steady.

The signal officer sprang into action. One climbed to a high vantage point, signaling with flags, while another blew the retreat horn.

The piercing notes echoed across the plains, rising above the thunder of falling rock. The troops, disciplined and swift, immediately began withdrawing, moving out of Xiao Pan Mountain’s deadly shadow.

"Let’s move," Yin Chengyu said, glancing back only briefly before gripping Xue Shu’s hand tightly.

Together, they ran.

The quakes grew more violent. Thin cracks on the ground widened alarmingly, some stretching wide enough to swallow a man. Yin Chengyu pushed himself to run faster, his heart pounding as though it would burst. He didn’t dare look back.

Then came a thunderous roar, like heaven itself splitting apart. The ground beneath them buckled, and the entire mountain seemed to convulse.

Behind them, Xiao Pan Mountain crumbled. Half the peak broke away, tumbling down in an avalanche of rock, dirt, and shattered trees. The collapsing mass surged forward like a dam bursting, a roaring flood of destruction.

The noise grew deafening, the chaos closing in. Yin Chengyu couldn’t resist turning his head. What he saw made his blood run cold—the mountain was no longer whole. Only half of it stood, while the rest poured down in a relentless tide of devastation.

Soldiers who lagged behind were swallowed by the deluge, their screams lost in the cacophony of destruction.

“It’s too fast!” Xue Shu growled, his sharp eyes darting around. He spotted a massive boulder nearby and yanked Yin Chengyu toward it.

"This way!"

The two dove behind the rock just as the torrent of debris bore down on them. Xue Shu wrapped himself around Yin Chengyu, shielding him completely. His voice was a low murmur, steady and protective in Yin Chengyu’s ear. "Don’t be afraid."

The impact hit a second later. The boulder shuddered under the onslaught, fragments of stone and earth pelting them mercilessly. The air turned thick with choking dust, blotting out all light.

Everything went black. The acrid stench of soil filled their noses as the world around them dissolved into chaos.

Yin Chengyu blinked, dazed for a moment, before it hit him—he wasn’t dead. Tentatively, he tried to move, only to find his body buried from the waist down in rubble. No escape. His back was pressed against a solid, warm chest—the unmistakable body of Xue Shu holding him close.

“Xue Shu?” Yin Chengyu called out, his voice testing the air as his hands fumbled around. His fingers didn’t meet flesh, though; they brushed over rough bark instead.

Feeling his way more deliberately, he realized the truth: a massive tree had fallen just above them, its thick branches acting like a shield. It had stopped most of the earth and rocks from crushing them entirely. Behind them was a massive boulder, and that tree—bless it—had created a tiny pocket of safety, just big enough for the two of them to breathe, to cling to life.

“Your Highness?”

Xue Shu stirred behind him, groaning softly as his stiff arms moved, fumbling over Yin Chengyu’s body with trembling hands. “Are you hurt?” His voice was tight with worry, the tension vibrating through his touch.

Yin Chengyu’s head was spinning, but he wasn’t about to let Xue Shu panic. “I’m fine,” he lied, steady and firm.

“What about you?” He shifted, as much as he could in the cramped space, desperate to check on Xue Shu. But the man’s arms were wrapped around him in an unyielding embrace, holding him so tight that all he could manage was to brush against his arm.

“I’m fine too,” Xue Shu murmured, his voice softer now as he buried his face against Yin Chengyu’s neck, nuzzling into the crook like he belonged there.

Relief flooded through Yin Chengyu. He drew a breath, letting the realization settle before speaking, his tone measured but commanding. “The quake should’ve stopped by now. Once the others count the survivors and notice we’re missing, they’ll send a search party. Until then, save your strength. We don’t waste a single word unless we have to. Understand?”

A quiet hum of agreement came from Xue Shu, but instead of pulling back, he tightened his hold, as if the quake had awakened something primal in him—a need to protect, to possess.

*

The earth shook violently for nearly half an hour, and the once-clear sky broke open, unleashing a relentless drizzle.

Ying Hongxue stood at the edge of the collapsed Fuhu Ridge, her expression growing darker with every passing second. She didn’t have the patience to wait for the tremors to stop. Tearing the horse loose from the carriage, she swung onto its back with a fluid motion.

“Xue Shu and the others—weren’t they stationed near Xieshizhai?”

“They were,” Cui Ci confirmed as he mounted behind her, still confused. “The camp’s in an open area. There shouldn’t be any immediate danger.”

“The mountain’s coming down. That direction is definitely Xiaopan Mountain,” Ying Hongxue snapped, her words sharp and clipped.

The camp was stationed in the flatlands right beneath Xiaopan Mountain.

Cui Ci’s heart sank as realization hit him like a slap. Without another word, he spurred his horse after her, racing back the way they came.

The quake had left the official road fractured and impassable in many places. Villages along the way were in ruins, their homes reduced to piles of rubble. Survivors knelt in the rain, their foreheads pressed to the ground as they begged heaven to show mercy.

By the time the two arrived, the commander of the Qingzhou Guard was already counting bodies. Not far away, Xiaopan Mountain looked as though it had been sliced clean in half, its peak obliterated. The landslide of shattered rock and dirt had buried the army camp below.

Cui Ci urged his horse forward. “Where’s His Highness? Where’s Xue Shu?”

The commander’s face was ashen. “We haven’t found them. We’re still searching.”

But he didn’t dare say what he feared most—that the crown prince and Xue Xu might already be buried under the rubble.

They had sounded the retreat as soon as the danger became clear, evacuating toward open ground. But the sheer number of troops had slowed them down, and the landslide swallowed more than two thousand men before they could get clear.

The crown prince and Xue Shu had stayed behind to issue final orders, delaying precious seconds that could have saved them.

Cui Ci stared at the devastation, his chest tightening painfully. With Xue Shu gone, he had no choice but to steady himself and take charge. “Don’t let word get out that His Highness and Xue Shu are missing. Assemble a search party to comb the surrounding area. The rest of you, clear the rubble and look for survivors.”

“Did anyone see Xue Shu before the collapse?” Ying Hongxue demanded.

The commander didn’t recognize her, but since she’d arrived with Cui Ci, he answered anyway. “It was chaos. All I know is that Xue Shu and the crown prince were both in the central camp. It was the last group to evacuate.”

The military encampment was spread out in a long formation. The flanks had moved first, with the central units pulling out last.

Ying Hongxue nodded briskly. “You handle things here,” she told Cui Ci. “I’ll be back soon.” Without waiting for a response, she turned her horse and galloped toward Yidu City.

She was going to find He Shan.

To buy He Shan time to evacuate Fuhu Ridge, she had intentionally lingered there with Cui Ci for an extra half-hour. By now, if all had gone as planned, He Shan should have reached the outskirts of Yidu City.

Halfway there, she spotted a group of riders approaching at full speed. Narrowing her eyes, she scanned the faces and exhaled in relief when she recognized a familiar silhouette. Bringing her fingers to her lips, she let out a sharp whistle.

An answering whistle came from the other side.

Ying Hongxue reined in her horse and waited for He Shan and his men to catch up.

“Everyone made it out safe?”

“All accounted for,” He Shan replied, his shoulders relaxing at the sight of her. “We got lucky. The quake hit after we’d cleared Fuhu Ridge. If it had happened while we were still in there, we’d have been trapped with nowhere to run.”

Ying Hongxue nodded curtly. “Rally the men. We’re heading to Xiaopan Mountain.”

“What for?” He Shan grabbed her reins in alarm. “From what I’ve heard, Xiaopan Mountain and Fuhu Ridge both collapsed. The quake might not even be over. It’s a death trap.”

“Xue Shu might still be buried under the rubble,” she said flatly, slapping his hand away and spinning her horse back toward Xiaopan Mountain.

Her words hit He Shan like a bucket of cold water. Shouting for his men to regroup, he kicked his horse into motion and followed close behind her.

*

In the pitch-black darkness, so thick you couldn’t see your own hand in front of you, time itself seemed to lose all meaning.

Yin Chengyu couldn’t tell how long he’d been buried. All he knew was that his body was getting colder, his head spinning in a haze. Pain surged through him, sharp and relentless, like waves crashing against a crumbling shore.

He swallowed his groans, refusing to make a sound, instead shifting just enough to press his head against Xue Shu’s shoulder. His voice was soft, almost fragile. “Xue Shu…”

“I’m here,” Xue Shu answered, his voice a low rumble, his face brushing close as if to reassure him.

Hearing that, Yin Chengyu relaxed a little, leaning his head against Xue Shu’s shoulder. He forced himself to push through the discomfort, fighting to stay awake, to stay present. But the harder he tried, the heavier his head felt.

His mind wandered, slipping back to his last moments in his past life—when he was powerless, exhausted, and completely spent.

It was the third winter of the Suihe era, less than two weeks before the New Year. By then, he was emperor, ruling with absolute authority. But his body had long since betrayed him, damaged irreparably during his years of confinement in the imperial tombs.

Day by day, it deteriorated.

The late Emperor Longfeng had left him with a crumbling empire—a mess of internal strife and external threats. Yin Chengyu fought tooth and nail to keep it afloat, working tirelessly day and night. But even his fierce determination couldn’t outpace his body’s collapse.

That winter, every illness he’d suppressed came roaring back. Medicines were useless. The imperial physicians came and went with trembling hands, their needles offering no solace. In the end, only his younger brother, Yin Chengyue, stayed by his side.

Yin Chengyue was just ten years old, a boy who had only returned to the palace five years ago. There was so much Yin Chengyu hadn’t taught him, so much left undone. But time didn’t wait. With death looming, he could only do his best to settle the empire’s affairs.

“In the inner court, you’ll have Zheng Duobao. In the council chamber, there’s Xie Yunchuan. With them, the empire should hold for three to five years without major issues. But power blinds even the best of men. You must grow strong quickly, Chengyue, and take the reins of power yourself. Don’t rely on others for too long.”

Zheng Duobao, the eunuch who oversaw the Directorate of Ceremonies, had been by Yin Chengyu’s side since childhood—loyal to the bone. Xie Yunchuan, a high-ranking official, was a trusted confidant Yin Chengyu had personally elevated, a man who owed him a debt. They were the only ones he could entrust with his brother’s future.

But one threat remained.

The Directorate’s Chief Eunuch, Xue Shu. Commander of the Western Bureau. A double-edged sword.

As long as Yin Chengyu lived, Xue Shu was a blade in his hand, cutting down enemies without hesitation. But if he died… could this blade be trusted not to turn on Yin Chengyue?

Yin Chengyu didn’t leave loose ends. Xue Shu had to die.

But when the moment came to give the order, he hesitated.

He’d been entangled with Xue Shu for too long, in too many ways. At the critical moment, a strange softness crept into his heart.

“Leave me for now,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, exhaustion pulling at him. “I need more time to think.”

Yin Chengyue left, but as he stepped out, he crossed paths with Xue Shu.

Xue Shu had just returned from a long journey. Snowflakes clung to his cloak and dark brows, his entire presence sharper and colder than the frost outside. Even Yin Chengyue, normally composed, hurried away with a quick nod, too intimidated to linger.

Xue Shu stepped into the inner chamber, shrugging off his cloak and handing it to a servant before warming his hands by the golden brazier. Only when the chill in his bones faded did he approach the emperor’s bedside.

The servants melted away, leaving them alone.

“You’re back,” Yin Chengyu said, his gaze flickering with something unreadable.

“I am.” Xue Shu’s tone was calm, almost dismissive, as he spoke of his trip to Zhejiang. “The old doctor’s reputation was exaggerated. His skills were nothing special, so I didn’t bring him back.” Then, almost casually, he added, “The royal tomb is complete. Since Your Majesty remains unmarried and without consorts, I had the craftsmen prepare a double coffin. That way, in the underworld, I can continue serving you.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, tucking the quilt around Yin Chengyu with careful precision. His touch was gentle, his expression uncharacteristically soft. For a moment, he seemed almost tender.

Yin Chengyu stared at him, caught off guard by the sudden shift. Their relationship had always been built on power and passion, never tenderness. Xue Shu was a beast, all sharp edges and relentless hunger. Kindness didn’t suit him.

But now, faced with this uncharacteristic warmth, Yin Chengyu hesitated. His resolve faltered. The thought of killing him felt suddenly impossible.

“You’re ridiculous,” he muttered weakly, dismissing Xue Shu’s words with a faint scowl.

He thought, Just a little longer. Let me think it through.

But his illness wouldn’t wait.

Three days later, his condition worsened. Waking from a fitful sleep, Yin Chengyu felt the weight of inevitability settle over him. This was the end.

Summoning his ministers, he gave his final orders.

When it came to Xue Shu, he paused, his gaze lingering. Finally, he sighed. “Appoint Xue Shu as regent, to assist the crown prince alongside Xie Yunchuan. Protect the empire. Do not fail me.”

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kill him.

———Author’s Note:

Xue Shu, later: The emperor couldn’t bear to kill me. He must love me deeply.

Yin Chengyu, in the afterlife: …What the hell?

———TN:

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