The early autumn rain grew heavier and heavier. When it landed on the ground, it created splashes. When it landed on the body, it drenched the lapels of clothing. When it landed on the heart, it was incomparably cold. The square in front of the Royal Palace was completely enveloped in the misty rain. All one could see was a wet world.
Everyone's eyes were fixed on the small wooden platform in the autumn rain, looking at the two people on the platform. There was a deathly silence all around. No one knew what kind of emotion had infected and controlled them. No one spoke, no one moved. They just stared at each other, their gazes piercing through the heavy rain and focusing on the platform.
Hundreds and thousands of imperial soldiers, internal court aces, and Ascetic Monks of the Qing Temple stood nervously and solemnly in the rain like frozen wooden figures.
In just a moment, a number of people had already died at Sir Fan junior's hands. Most importantly, the rain was falling bitterly. They did not know what color of emotion flashed through the eyes of the Emperor on the palace walls.
Yan Bingyun had already recovered from his shock when he first saw Fan Xian's figure. He lowered his head and began to prepare for what might happen next. In a low voice, he gave orders to the most loyal subordinates at his side. These voices were covered by the rain. No one heard them. However, a few Overwatch Council secret agents wearing normal clothing had already begun to push their way through the crowd toward the execution field.
Above and below the palace walls, the officials and commoners were all stunned by the scene of Fan Xian's horse's hooves trampling through the blood, drawing his sword in rage in the rain, and taking off his clothes to cover the old man's body. The first person to react was He Zongwei, who had the highest position in the Royal Palace and was responsible for supervising the execution.
When Fan Xian rode into the sea of people, he had already reacted. Using the fastest speed and the most inconspicuous movement, he quietly left the area of the small wooden stage and hid his figure behind the officials and guards. Separated by many aces, his gaze passed through the wet shoulders and straw hats. He looked at Fan Xian alone and wretchedly holding Chen Pingping's thin and weak body on the small wooden stage. A complicated emotion flashed through He Zongwei's eyes. He just didn't want to die, but he had to kill both the old man and the young man on the wooden stage.
There were still many people who did not want to die. On the wooden stage, Fan Xian's entire body emanated a frightening coldness. Even the cold autumn rain between heaven and earth could not suppress it. Everyone unconsciously left the wooden stage. Eunuch Yao had long retreated into the group. He didn't want to become the next straw dog the Duke used to sacrifice to Chen Pingping.
Several corpses were scattered around the wooden platform. The color of the blood was quickly diluted by the autumn rain. The trembling executioner of the Ministry of Justice holding a sharp knife had become the closest person to the bottom of the wooden platform. He looked at Sir Fan junior on the stage and found that Sir Fan junior had his head lowered deeply and was holding Director Chen tightly in his arms. It was as if he could not hear any other sounds in the world. His heart was filled with shock as he quietly retreated.
After only taking two steps, the executioner's throat snapped with a crack. His head fell heavily into the rain. The headless body also fell off the stage with a heavy thud.
Everyone was shocked and focused on the stage. Only those with high cultivation could notice that in that instant, Fan Xian's hand had moved slightly. A black dagger flew out and landed in the rain.
…
…
Fan Xian sat cross-legged on the wooden stage. He sat under the gazes of tens of thousands of people, but it was as if he couldn't feel any of their gazes. He only held Chen Pingping's body and buried his head very low, allowing the rain to fall on his head and body. His back view was slightly slanted and appeared very desolate.
The old man's body in his arms was very light. Holding him in his arms was like holding a ball of wind that could disperse at any moment. Under his slightly messy hair, Fan Xian's pale face twitched slightly. Unconsciously, he stretched out his hand and grasped Chen Pingping's cold and old hand. He held it tightly, unwilling to let go again.
The old man had experienced a great deal of suffering in this life. He had been disabled for half his life, and the qi and blood in his body had long been exhausted. When he was being cut by a thousand cuts, other than pain, there was not much blood. However, the torture of so many cuts still caused the blood to pool uncontrollably. It soaked the black Overwatch Council robes Fan Xian had covered his body. It was sticky, hot, and scalding to the hand.
In the autumn rain, Fan Xian gently held his thin and weak body, terrified of causing him more pain. He held his cold hand tightly, terrified that he would leave just like this.
"If you don't want to come back, who can make you come back? Why did you drag me to Dongyi? " Fan Xian said in a low and raspy voice. His dry lips had been soaked in the rain until they were white and peeling. He appeared very pitiful. "Who have I worked hard for these years? Who have I not wanted you old people to be able to leave Jingdou and live a good life. I have always worked hard …"
"You know that I know everything." Fan Xian's head lowered even more and gently leaned against the old man's wrinkled cheek. His body swayed gently in the rain as if he was coaxing the old man in his arms to sleep.
His hand suddenly tightened. The old man's hand gripped Fan Xian's hand tightly. However, all of his life force couldn't even hold one hand tightly. He didn't know whether it was because he couldn't bear to part with something or because he was afraid of something. In the wind and rain, on the ground, and in the water, he wanted to hold onto something.
Like a knife slowly tearing at his heart, Fan Xian's entire body was cold and terrified as he looked at the old man in his arms. He knew that he could not hold on much longer. Unconsciously, he tightened his grip on that hand until his fingers began to turn white and ache faintly.
Chen Pingping's muddy and scattered gaze slowly moved through the rain. He saw the familiar Royal Palace, the sky covered in rain clouds, and the blurry figure of the Emperor on the palace walls. However, he could not clearly see the person's face. Then, he saw Fan Xian's face beside him. A glimmer of a smile flashed through the old man's muddy but clear eyes.
The old man knew that he was about to leave the world he had lived in his entire life. His eyes gradually dimmed. He could not clearly hear any sound between heaven and earth. The light in front of him also gradually transformed into strange shapes.
In this instant, perhaps his legendary life flashed quickly before his eyes like a slideshow. The little eunuch, the East Sea, that woman, the Overwatch Council, the Black Knights, another woman, dead people, conspiracies, revenge. All sorts of scenes flashed before his eyes and formed a white line that no one dared to look directly at. No one knew exactly what he saw before he died and what he wanted to see the most.
Was it the mud that had been kicked up by the fighting in King Cheng's manor? Was it the plum blooming in winter in Taiping Courtyard? Was it the little fish swimming freely in the shallow pond in the back courtyard of the Overwatch Council's square and sinister building? Was it the Palace robes in the mountains in the north? Or was it the little boy in Danzhou who had entrusted all of his emotions and hopes for the second half of his life?
Amidst the sound of wind and rain, Chen Pingping suddenly heard some sounds. It was singing. It was a graceful and familiar song. It was a song he had heard countless times in Chen Garden. Those concubines were all beautiful. Those songs were all beautiful. The old man had risen and fallen in the darkness all his life. He was cold and cruel, but he had the most gentle desire to collect and love beauty. If tragedy was to destroy the beauty of the world for others to see, then Chen Pingping's life was only to destroy what he thought was ugly and filthy. He threw himself into the ugliness and filthy and then looked at all the beautiful things from a distance.
"If I hear the sound of rain, who will be happy? After climbing mountain after mountain, there is a happy song in the rain. Hearing the song, my mood will be happy … "
This was a song that the women of Chen Garden had once loved. In the wind and rain, it once again rang out in Chen Pingping's ears. With difficulty, he opened his eyes and looked at the people in the world. Hearing this graceful voice, his bloodless lips moved slightly. It was as if he was singing along, but no sound came out of it.
Chen Pingping suddenly looked at Fan Xian and asked, "Chest …?"
Fan Xian gave a very ugly smile and said by the old man's ear, "It's a gun. A firearm that can kill from a long distance."
This was probably the last question Chen Pingping had in his life, so he asked it at the last moment. Hearing Fan Xian's answer, the old man's eyes lit up slightly. It was as if he had not thought it would be this answer. He was slightly surprised and relieved. A gurgling sound came from his throat as he panted hurriedly. A cold and proud expression rose to his face.
"This … thing … I … also have it."
Fan Xian didn't say anything. He just sat in the autumn rain and gently held him. He gently shook his head. He felt the old body in his arms grow softer and softer. The old hand he held tightly in his hand grew colder and colder. In the end, there was no longer any warmth.
Chen Pingping died. He died in the arms of the little boy he loved the most in the autumn rain. Before he died, he knew the truth about the chest. His face still carried a cold, proud, and insufferably arrogant expression.
Fan Xian woodenly held the gradually colder body. He lowered his head and pressed it against the old man's icy face. He quietly said a few words. Suddenly, he felt that the wind and rain that filled the sky were like knives cutting into his body. It caused him great pain and was difficult to bear. This pain burst forth from his heart and traveled to every inch of his skin. It was like a death by a thousand cuts. In the end, it finally exploded out.
On the little wooden stage in the autumn rain, a loud cry suddenly exploded. It was a cry that broke one's heart. It was a cry that tore at one's liver and pained one's lungs. It was a cry that was so sorrowful that the autumn rain didn't dare to fall. It was a cry that tens of thousands of people couldn't bear to hear …
In the 20 years since his rebirth, Fan Xian had never cried to anyone. Even though there were a few times when his eyes were wet, he forcefully pushed them down. No one in this world had ever seen him cry. No one had ever seen him cry so thoroughly and with such sorrow. A myriad of emotions were all vented in this loud cry.
The tears were unable to blur his face. They only washed away the remaining dust on his face that not even the autumn rain could wash away.
Just like how the autumn rain could not be stopped, the tears could not be stopped either. Just like this, endless sorrow surged out of his eyes.
…
…
The sorrowful cry from the small wooden platform in the execution field penetrated the autumn wind and autumn rain and spread to every corner of the Royal Palace. It pierced into everyone's ears and caused countless people to immediately feel grief in their hearts, a chill in their hearts.
When this cry landed in some people's ears, it gave rise to a powerful sense of fear. Other than this, it was a clear signal.
Old Director Chen had finally died.
No one knew if there were people who secretly rejoiced or let out a large breath because of this fact. However, not a single official in the wind and rain showed any emotion on their faces. Perhaps sorrow flashed through some eyes. Most of them maintained their solemnity and slight nervousness, as well as a faint sense of loss at the bottom of their hearts.
One of the pillars of the Qing Kingdom had snapped. The civil officials, who had been suppressed by the Overwatch Council in darkness for decades and could not catch their breath, and who were like fire and water in the court disputes, suddenly felt a chill in their hearts. The ancestor of the Overwatch Council had died just like this? They seemed to find it difficult to accept this reality for a moment. In their eyes, it seemed that this terrifying figure covered from head to toe in black fog would never die.
Countless people thought of countless scenes because of Chen Pingping's death. No one dared to deny the work Chen Pingping had done for the Qing Kingdom over the decades of wind and rain. In this long scroll of history, the thick black ink used to illuminate the clear was this person and the Overwatch Council he had created. Without this ink, where would this long scroll have its spirit?
When Fan Xian's cry pierced through the wind and rain and reached the top of the Royal Palace walls high above, no one noticed that the Qing Emperor, dressed in dragon robes and imposing with an imperial aura, had made a very small movement. His entire body leaned forward slightly, only the distance of two fingers. A moment later, the Emperor valiantly straightened his back again, maintaining the distance between his emotionless face and the execution field filled with the scent of blood in the rain.
No one noticed that the Emperor's hands, hidden in the sleeves of his dragon robes, were slowly clenched tightly.
At this moment, he watched his old companion and servant, who had followed him for decades, die. The old man who had watched him go from an unremarkable heir to the most dazzling warrior in the world, died so decisively. What did the Emperor think? What did he feel? Was it a kind of emptiness that came from the depths of his heart, or a kind of anger that even he could not explain and had no idea where it came from?
At the top of the Royal Palace walls, Yan Bingyun lowered his head deeply, even lower than all the officials beside him. His body faced the direction of the execution field. Through the curtain of rain, he could still see Sir Fan junior's indifferent and wooden appearance as he held the old Director's body. His body trembled slightly. He thought of the words the old Director had once said to him in the square building of the Overwatch Council.
One day, I am going to die. Fan Xian will go crazy …
…
…
Yan Bingyun abruptly raised his head and took a deep breath. Wiping away the rain on his face, he continued to secretly give orders to all sides. The secret agents hidden in the crowd watching the execution could act at any moment. He wanted to compress the madness that could happen next into the smallest possible area. Of course, Yan Bingyun hoped that none of this would happen.
… …
The person had died. Although the death by a thousand cuts had not been completely completed and the executioner had been cut in half by Fan Xian with resentment, there was no need to continue. The autumn rain continued to fall miserably, but no one left the square in front of the Royal Palace. It was as if everyone knew what was about to happen.
The Ascetic Monks surrounding the execution field slowly approached the little wooden stage. The straw hats on their heads blocked the rain falling from the sky and hid the original expression on their faces. It was as if Fan Xian could not sense the danger below the stage. He just sat numbly on the wooden stage. He continued to hold Chen Pingping's body and did not put it down.
His tears had already mixed with the rain and gradually stopped. Fan Xian suddenly stood up. However, his figure swayed slightly. It looked like these days and nights of traveling thousands of li had exhausted him. The anger and sorrow that pierced his heart made his state of mind show signs of exhaustion.
However, the figure on the wooden stage swayed in the rain. This startled the hearts of the people around the wooden stage. They unconsciously took half a step back.
Fan Xian indifferently held Chen Pingping's body and walked down the wooden stage. He didn't even glance at these people. It was as if they didn't exist.
These people surrounded the wooden stage and waited for the order from the Emperor in the Royal Palace.
…
…
The Emperor looked at the scene below the palace walls with a pale face. Complicated emotions flashed through his deep eyes. Starting from the Hanging Temple incident, his admiration for Fan Xian was built on the foundation that his son was a loyal and righteous person. Although he had not thought that Fan Xian would be able to make it back, he did not find it strange when he saw this scene.
Even the Emperor was not worried. In his heart, he thought An Zhi was a pitiful child who had been deceived by Chen Pingping, that old dog. Perhaps An Zhi still did not know how much Chen Pingping wanted to kill him, kill all of his sons, and cut off his line of descendants. When he looked at Fan Xian's desolate figure, the Emperor could not suppress the sadness and anger he felt. He was hurt by what Fan Xian had demonstrated. He was angry that even though Chen Pingping, that old dog, was dead, he could still easily steal the heart of his favorite son.
Just like that woman who had died many years ago.
The Emperor was silent for a long time. The injury that he had forcefully suppressed also gradually split open because of the agitation in his heart. Blood seeped out of his chest and onto the dragon robe he wore. It was particularly shocking.
He shook out his sleeves and left the top of the palace walls with a cold expression.
Below the Royal Palace, Fan Xian carried Chen Pingping's body and left the little wooden stage soaked in the rain and blood. He walked toward the west side of the square. His steps were particularly slow and heavy. Until now, he still did not glance toward the top of the palace walls.
The Emperor had already left. No one in the world dared to block Fan Xian's path. Everyone unconsciously opened up a path. The crowd was like the surface of the sea being cut open by a sword. The waves gradually rose and opened up a path through which reefs could be seen.
In the rain, Fan Xian carried Chen Pingping and left.
…
…
Who was a great hero? How could one be called a hero? This was a question that everyone had different opinions about. In this story, all the people who were loyal to their own way of thinking were actually extraordinary people. It just depended on how much they were willing to pay for this way of thinking. The more they were willing to pay, the more they were shocking enough. In particular, the word "heroic" was actually only heroic and did not involve anything else.
When it came to men, one could not be called a man just because they had * *. It was also not possible to be spiritually impotent. Although Chen Pingping was a eunuch, he was actually an idealist. He was a simple person, a man with a gun.
He was more manly than most men. The last sentence he said, "I have that thing too" … was my opinion of Chen Pingping ever since I wrote this story.
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