Chapter 82: A Pot of Cloudy Wine with Peach Cake

Inside the tomb passage.

Xu Qingzhao slowly finished narrating the beginning of the story. After a brief discussion, No. 3 Xing Tao, continued the tale.

Still speaking from the perspective of Princess Anping, he recounted in a light tone:

“After the martial arts competition that day, I found myself longing to meet Li Mu.

After sending people to inquire for over three days, I learned that Li Mu was staying at a tavern in the city. So, disguising myself, I went there personally.

That night, when I arrived at the tavern, his friends had just left, and Li Mu was already halfway drunk. Seated on a wooden chair, he stared blankly at the peach cakes and fava beans on the table, looking somewhat dazed.

We had never spoken before, and I had no idea how to start a conversation.

After some contemplation, I deliberately adopted the mannerisms of a carefree wanderer and asked, with a touch of theatricality: ‘They say Li Mu treats wealth as mere dirt—would you spare a few more coins for wine to share with a passing traveler?’

Li Mu was momentarily stunned but then waved with a smile: ‘Innkeeper, bring more wine.’

Taking the opportunity, I sat down, trying my best to play the role of a wandering swordswoman, awkwardly imitating the reserved and valiant demeanor of a true heroine. ‘They say Li Mu is a man of great renown, so why does he avoid battle now that he’s in the capital? Are you afraid of death?’

‘Haha, indeed, I am afraid of death.’ Li Mu poured himself a drink and slowly said, ‘One time, I got drunk and made a bet with that Old Dog Xu from Qinglian Village. He claimed that when he was a child, he traveled to the capital with his father and, while resting at the southern inn, drank the Yin Family’s pine resin wine. He described it as sweet and smooth, a top-tier wine in the world. But I always thought the Yin Family’s pine resin wine was overrated—too sweet, lacking the true taste of alcohol. Neither of us could convince the other, so… I came to the capital to buy some, to let the folks back home judge for themselves.’

Hearing this, I was dumbfounded.

Traveling thousands of miles from Sichuan just to settle a trivial debate over wine—over a passing jest?

‘So this is why you refused to challenge Huang Zi?’ I asked in disbelief.

‘No. I also promised a few orphaned children of military households from Qinglian Village that I would bring them the finest rouge and silk from the capital,’ Li Mu said as he raised his cup. ‘When I left, that Old Dog Xu was already on his deathbed, barely clinging to life. He probably doesn’t have much time left… A promise made before death shouldn’t wait until after death to be fulfilled. I need to return soon.’

At that moment, a wave of shame welled up within me—a shame born from my fixation on worldly fame and fortune.

To me, the title of the world’s greatest swordsman, the prestige of being the Sword Immortal of Sichuan—how could these pale in comparison to a mere jesting wager?

But in his heart, a man’s promise outweighed everything.

I knew that my next question might make him look down on me, but I couldn’t help but ask: ‘Do you know how the world speaks of you after your refusal to fight? They say that since that day, the backbone of Sichuan’s swordsmen has collapsed…!’

‘Haha. The imperial court is corrupt, officials are greedy, and the emperor ignores governance, obsessed only with seeking the Human Emperor Seal for eternal life. The northern barbarians invade, wars rage in the south, and warlords rise across the land, all seeking to carve up the Jing Dynasty. And yet, instead of defending their homes, the people of this land call me spineless? Do they not see that on Sichuan’s borders, nine out of ten households lie empty, and orphaned children of fallen soldiers are countless?’ Li Mu gently shook his head, answering with an unfazed calmness: ‘It was the world that bestowed upon me the title of the Sword Immortal of Sichuan, not I who claimed it for myself. When they are pleased, they grant me such an honor; when they are disappointed, they can just as easily strip it away. It was never truly mine to begin with, so losing it is no great loss.’

We filled our cups and drank together.

After a long silence, I softly asked, ‘Why don’t you serve in the court?’

By then, Li Mu was thoroughly drunk. He shook his head and replied, ‘Swords and poetry cannot save the dying Jing Dynasty. Just as… the best healer in Qinglian Village could not save that Old Dog Xu.’

‘The common folk, ordinary men and women, may spend their entire lives in that mountain-locked land of Sichuan, never knowing the roads to the capital, never tasting the world’s fine wines, only savoring the sweetness of pine resin. Whether dynasties rise or fall, whether the land is torn apart, what does it matter to them? Life is but a few decades—better to eat peach cakes, drink strong wine, and get drunk with a few close friends. That is true freedom.’

I could hear the despair in his words—his complete disillusionment with Jing Dynasty, and with my father, the emperor.

This was treason, a blatant defiance of imperial authority. And yet, I could not summon any anger, nor could I refute him.

That night, I fully understood—Li Mu never cared for fame or fortune. Or perhaps, he never even saw himself as a swordsman.

Maybe once, he aspired to be a great scholar, dreamed of serving his country with unwavering passion, and even fought for it. But in the end, he realized… this decaying dynasty was beyond saving, and his homeland in Sichuan would inevitably become nothing more than a land of graves.

With a friend, a thousand cups are too few.

I forgot my status and spoke with him about everything under the sun for hours.

That single night, I spoke more than I had in the past eighteen years combined.

In the palace, I truly did not know with whom I could converse. The women of the harem wished for nothing more than my early demise. My father, the emperor, held a status too high—one with whom I could speak, yet not too much. As for my royal siblings, though bound by blood, we maintained a restrained distance in private interactions; otherwise, one misstep could invite accusations of forming secret factions.

Before setting off, Li Mu was already quite drunk. Yet, he suddenly pulled out a handkerchief-wrapped peach blossom cake from his sleeve and softly said to me, “I… have been traveling for days, and my funds are completely exhausted. I have nothing else to offer, only this peach cake from my hometown for the princess. Anping… Anping,¹ may you have peace year after year, and may the world be at peace as well.”

I had thought I concealed my identity well, but he saw through me at a glance.

Indeed, I rarely left the palace and always thought of people in simple terms. I assumed that by wearing plain garments and speaking a few words of the martial world, I could disguise myself as just another patron of the tavern. Little did I know that the jade tassel at my waist, the maidservants attending me, and the imperial guards secretly stationed outside had long since given me away.

I accepted the peach cake and, before the gathered crowd, took a small bite. “So sweet.”

“Peach cakes are the finest pastries in the world,” Li Mu said, staring directly at my face, his gaze lingering on the jade hairpin in my crown. Without any hesitation, he added, “A beauty as fine as jade, possessing both grace and brilliance—Anping is truly an exceptional woman of the world.”

Looking at his drunken face, I spoke almost involuntarily, “If I asked you to serve in the court, would you be willing?”

The moment the words left my lips, I felt my entire face grow hot.

I am, after all, the eldest princess of a nation; how could I lose my composure, forget decorum, and express my feelings like a common woman?!

I cannot recall his response. I only remember fleeing the tavern as if running away.

…

From that farewell, I knew I had fallen for him. I also understood the true meaning behind his unreserved words that day.

I did not dwell on how far this connection could go, but I admired his talent and felt sorrow for the frustration he carried in his heart.

For the first time in my eighteen years, I recommended a scholar to my father.

But my father, obsessed with the pursuit of immortality, saw no value in Li Mu. He merely responded indifferently, saying that Li Mu, the son of a merchant, was of lowly birth. Upon arriving in the capital, he had dared not step forward in battle—nothing more than a fame-seeker.

I dared not argue, so I played the role of a spoiled and willful daughter, pleading for the court to employ Li Mu.

My father had always shown me some favor. He only sighed and said helplessly, “Send him to Shangyu County in Qingzhou as a magistrate. That position is already more than his talent deserves.”

At those words, I could press no further.

Two months later, Li Mu returned to his hometown to fulfill his promise.

In his letter, he told me that before dying, the Old Dog Xu drank a cup of pine resin wine and, with his final breaths, murmured, “This truly is nothing more than cheap, ordinary wine… but it still holds the taste of my childhood…!”

The wine was finished. The man was dead. And Li Mu had won his wager.

Another month later, the order for his transfer to Shangyu County reached Qinglian Village.

Li Mu initially intended to refuse, but at that moment, he received a letter from me.

There was no writing in the letter—only the jade hairpin he had stared at that day.

It was a keepsake from my late mother, something I had always cherished. I gifted it to him, hoping he would take up the post and step forward, one firm step at a time, to showcase his brilliance.

Li Mu replied with only eight words: “The world’s peace, for the sake of Anping.”

When I received his response, my heart was elated, and I could hardly sleep for several nights.

…

Three years passed.

During this time, I never saw Li Mu again, but we exchanged letters frequently—one or two each month without fail.

In his letters, he recounted many interesting events and encounters in Shangyu County. At times, we even argued fiercely over political affairs, our discussions never-ending.

Beyond our correspondence, I also kept a close watch on major events in Shangyu County, for he never shared his hardships—only his victories.

The year Li Mu took office, the river embankments in Shangyu burst, submerging a hundred miles of land in floodwaters.

It was he who rallied the farmers and townsfolk to combat the flood, living atop the dikes for over three months, personally executing more than twenty corrupt officials. In the end, he successfully controlled the flood and saved countless displaced citizens.

The people there came to see him as their leader.

In the third year, border conflicts grew increasingly intense, and Shangyu County, located at a strategic pass, became a target. A bandit leader in Qingzhou named Zhu Xun suddenly raised a rebellion under the “Qian” banner, colluding with southern tribal forces to launch a surprise attack on Shangyu County.

The land was strewn with corpses, and the people were plunged into despair.

To cover the villagers’ retreat, Li Mu led only three hundred local militia in a desperate ambush against the southern invaders, personally slaying an enemy general and burning countless enemy supplies. He successfully delayed the enemy for two days, allowing the townspeople to flee to Sichuan.

Three years prior, he had been scorned as a coward unwilling to fight. But through these events, his name was cleansed of that dishonor, and people across the southern lands began to call him a man of great responsibility.

At the same time, the political landscape of the court grew increasingly treacherous.

My father’s health worsened by the day. The factions within the court battled incessantly, with hidden currents surging beneath the surface. Within the empire, self-proclaimed rebel armies rose up, seizing cities and lands, while at the borders, foreign invaders pressed ever closer.

The Jing Dynasty stood on the precipice, battered by storm and turmoil—on the verge of collapse.

Yet, Father’s mind still does not rest on addressing internal strife or external threats. He keeps pressing Grand Chancellor Wang Bingquan, asking when he can bring back the Human Emperor Seal.

He still desires immortality, still clings to a legend in hopes of changing the fate of a dynasty.

Perhaps he knows that such mystical things might be mere illusions, figments of dreams. But to a dying old man, this is all that remains—his final hope.

For the sake of stabilizing the court, the thing I feared most has finally happened.

Father has informed me that I am to marry Wang Tong, the son of the Grand Chancellor, with a wedding date to be determined.

I know his intent—he wishes to bind the Wang family closer through marriage, securing their support while vainly waiting for them to retrieve the Human Emperor Seal.

Naturally, I refuse to accept it. But this… is my fate.

From the day Father told me, I was confined within the palace, forbidden to leave freely.

That loathsome, corpulent Wang Tong, however, often came to see me.

For the sake of that old man who once cherished me—for his peace of mind, for him to leave this world without regrets—I feigned civility toward Wang Tong, enduring his presence with reluctance.

Yet deep in my heart, I thought… If Father passes away, if Li Mu is willing to return to the capital and take me away, then what is there in this cold palace worth lingering for?

I wrote a secret letter and entrusted a trusted aide to smuggle it out of the palace and deliver it to Sichuan.

More than a month later, Li Mu’s reply arrived—he was already on his way to the capital.

I waited eagerly, standing each day within the high palace walls, gazing southward, watching the fallen leaves, counting the days one by one.

He would come. He was a man who honored his word—one whose promises weighed more than gold.

There is no suffering in the world greater than longing for someone.

Day after day, I waited… yearned…

At last, news arrived—but not of Li Mu keeping his promise. Instead, it was of his departure from the capital.

That day, Wang Tong came to the palace and, with mocking amusement, told me:

“You can stop waiting. Li Mu arrived with only a horse, but he left with three carts. I gifted him three whole carriages of gold and silver. Whether the mountains and rivers are shattered or the country and people perish, as long as he finds a prosperous place, he’ll be wealthy for three generations—no, for ten!”

I refused to believe it. But then, he placed on the table the jade hairpin I had once given to Li Mu.

The moment I saw it, all hope within me was extinguished.

He had left willingly. He was not coerced.

Soon, word spread throughout the city—Li Mu had left the capital with three horse-drawn carts. I sent palace servants to verify, and they did indeed see him seated within a carriage, raising only one arm as he drank from a flask of cheap liquor.

From that day on, I no longer fought against fate.

Resentment faded, hatred vanished. I became like a walking corpse—an empty shell, devoid of soul and spirit.

I thought only this: Once Father dies, so will I.

Not long after, my defiant father still breathed his last. He died on a bright, sunny morning.

The departed Emperor was laid to rest in Western Mausoleum…

After the state funeral, my imperial brother ascended the throne. Yet even he could not stop the empire’s collapse. The Wang faction in court grew even more powerful, and though my brother wished to be a wise ruler, he was bound at every turn.

Soon enough, Wang Tong could no longer wait. While I was still in mourning, he requested my brother grant us marriage.

I did not refuse.

Since you know I loathe you yet insist on marrying me, then let me ensure your name goes down in history—at the very moment Jing Dynasty meets its end.

I had a plan. On the day of the wedding, I would stand atop the ceremonial platform and end my own life, following Father in death.

Pressed by political forces, my brother had no choice but to approve the marriage.

Not long after, Wang Tong came to the palace, inviting me to visit his newly built residence.

I had no desire to engage with him, so I followed in silence.

But never did I expect that on this day, Wang Tong, emboldened by drink in his new courtyard, would become careless in his arrogance. While discussing military affairs with his family’s commanders, I overheard something I was never meant to hear…

He said that when Zhu Xun’s bandits attack the capital, that will be the day they surrender. That the forces stationed within and outside the city had already been bribed and arranged.

As long as Zhu Xun’s army marched into the city, they would hand over the Human Emperor Seal.

Wang Tong went on to say that the foolish and senile deceased Emperor had been stubborn to the end. It took him smashing a spittoon over his head a dozen times before his skull finally split open.

And he said that I was just an ignorant and foolish woman.

All these years, he had fawned over me like a servant, yet I had treated him as a lowly insect. That, he declared, was truly infuriating.

That day in secret, he had met Li Mu in the capital. Using my life as leverage, he forced Li Mu to accept the gold and silver and to leave through the southern gate in broad daylight, pretending he had been bought off.

Wang Tong despised Li Mu’s arrogance—despised even more that others called him the Sword Immortal of Sichuan.

Before letting him go, he even forced Li Mu to sever his own right arm.

And then, he conspired with his family’s commanders—on the wedding night, after taking me as his wife, his desires would be fulfilled. But his hatred burned deeper. He wanted every man in that courtyard to have their way with me, so that I would become the first disgraced and defiled princess in Jing Dynasty’s history.

In this world, there were only two men who ever truly cared for me.

One was my foolish, muddleheaded father.

The other… was the man who once gifted me peach cake and stepped into government service for my sake—Li Mu.

Though I did not like Wang Tong, I had never spoken with disdain toward him. On the contrary, in order to please the Wang family, I interacted with him and always spoke kindly.

What have I done to deserve such treatment from you?!!

My father, the Emperor, had shown the Wang family immense favor, allowing their sons, factions, and retainers to fill the court.

He was already old and senile, on the verge of passing, yet you would go so far as to smash his skull?!

Li Mu has only ever loved poetry and the sword, and he is not involved in the court’s schemes, so how could you force him to sever his right arm?!

I have never been so filled with hatred for a group of people.

My heart, which had died, came back to life.

I want revenge!

I will kill every Wang family member in the capital! I will turn the southern city into a graveyard for the Wang family!

Although I am a princess of a fallen nation, I will not be humiliated!

The wedding was still some time away, and I began to feign agreement with Wang Tong, pretending to please him on the surface while secretly making plans.

I secretly reached an understanding with my brother, the Emperor, spent a fortune bribing some of the servants in the Wang family, and found some old loyalists and nobles who had helped in the founding of Jing Dynasty, quietly gathering death warriors…

On the day of the wedding, servants poisoned the guests at the Wang manor.

My brother commanded the imperial guards and death warriors to surround and kill the guards inside and outside the Wang manor.

I wore a red dress, a flower crown, and wielded the Qingfeng sword, disregarding life and death as I slaughtered my way through.

I had trained in martial arts since childhood; I may not have been famous worldwide, but I was certainly not a nameless weakling.

The maids in the palace had been with me for many years, practicing the ‘Heavenly Yin Women’s Sword Formation’ since we were young.

If women could be on the battlefield, they could fight a thousand men.

That day, blood flowed through the Wang family’s courtyard like a river.

I personally killed Wang Tong, peeled his scalp and fed it to wild dogs, ripped out his organs and threw them in a cesspool…

I personally used my sword to clear his brain of its red and white matter, hanging his head and that of Wang Bingquan on the high gate of the Wang manor.

However, I was severely injured. The Wang family had a peculiar family sword style that could slowly drain the life force of someone with great fortune…

I thought that after doing this, the Wang family’s generals would come for me and my brother, but to my surprise, these defeated generals thought my brother had regained control of the court and secretly regained control of the military inside and outside the imperial capital, so without fighting, they all fled, joining the rebel forces.

Father must never have expected that the Wang family, the force he had always feared and wanted to control, would be so easily defeated.

Those who manipulate power… they are not even as capable as I am, a woman.

After the fall of the Wang family, my brother regained his position, slowly took control of the court, and assumed command of the military within and outside the capital. But for the Jing Dynasty, this only delayed the inevitable—it could not change the fate of the nation.

I was still ill from the strange sword technique of the Wang family.

My brother, feeling sorry for me, invited a Daoist named Tianji to treat my injuries. After examining me, he said bluntly, “You will live for no more than a year. If you are unwilling to accept this fate, you can build a nine-story tomb for yourself on Qingliang Mountain in Qingliang Prefecture. Perhaps in the future, you will gain some opportunity and may see him again.”

At first, I didn’t understand what this old Daoist meant, but three days later, news came from the south.

The Southern tribes had secretly allied with the self-declared ruler Zhu Xun and launched another major attack, retaking Shangyu County.

And the leader of the army was the world’s number one swordsman who had betrayed the country, Huang Zi!

He led fifty thousand troops, determined to retake Shangyu, to redeem his name in the capital, and to avenge the shame of being overlooked by the Emperor of the Jing Dynasty.

The battle report described how, that noon, the sun was fiercely blinding.

Huang Zi’s army had arrived at the outskirts of Shangyu County, preparing to rest from the scorching sun and resume their battle in the evening.

But unexpectedly,

A sword came from the north,

A person stood at the front of the army,

A person holding a jug of wine,

One person faced fifty thousand soldiers, shouting:

“Here shall Li Mu’s life be forfeit, so Shangyu may stand as Anping’s solace!”

“I have a sword, will the traitor dare to fight?!”

After the shout, Huang Zi could not bear to let the title “World’s Number One”, which he exchanged for fame and fortune, be disgraced in front of these 50,000 people.

He soared into the sky, drew his sword and accepted the challenge.

From that day onward,

The famous sword Lingyun was no more;

After that day,

Huang Zi kneeled outside Shangyu County, his throat pierced by a sword;

After that day,

The Southern tribe suffered four thousand casualties, and the army was thrown into chaos, many enemy generals were executed;

After that day,

There was no longer the Sword Immortal of Sichuan;

After that day,

The sword broke, the peach cake scattered, and a man’s word no longer held the weight of a thousand gold, unable to fulfill his promise in death…”

A year later, Princess Anping built a nine-story tomb.

On a rainy day, she held the Human Emperor Seal and peach cake, with a jade hairpin in her head, holding an umbrella as she walked toward Qingliang Mountain.

She was near death, walking slowly, very slowly…

She did not want to die in the palace. She wanted to see, before she passed, where her final resting place would be.

On the way to the tomb, she softly chanted:

“The Southern mist falls on the ruined city, one person walks with an umbrella in the rain.

There is no longer a white-clad guest in the world, from now on, a lone person enters a lonely tomb.”