The room was brightly lit.
Two heads came over — Ya Lanzhu and Ingot.
There were also three handsome men sitting still with different expressions on their faces.
Yun Hen lowered his eyes, Zong Yue drank his tea indifferently, and Zhangsun Wuji shuffled the tiles. His eyes swept across the paper with a faint smile.
The ink on the note was dripping, the strokes were deep, the strokes were sloppy, yet imposing. The few numbers were written deeply, and similarly, the yearning and expectation were also deeply engraved.
Meng Fuyao crumpled the paper and grabbed it. She smiled at Ya Lanzhu, who had come over curiously. "Zhan Beiye said he's coming back soon."
Ya Lanzhu did not want to be the third wheel of the three handsome men, so she consciously gave up the mahjong table. She had been in a bad mood because of her itchy hands. Hearing Fuyao's perfunctory tone, she curled her lips in disdain. "Based on that guy's character, I don't even need to look to know that he wrote something like 'XX has been destroyed, wait for me to come back'."
Meng Fuyao looked up at her in worship. "Zhu Zhu is really a god!"
Ya Lanzhu's eyes dimmed, but she quickly smiled. "Compared to you, everyone is a god." She grabbed Sir Ingot and returned to the couch for a chat. Meng Fuyao looked at her lonely silhouette, thinking that Ya Lanzhu must have known that the words "wait for me" were not meant for her. She had chased after Zhan Beiye for so many years, determined that he was her Mr. Right just because he had washed his hair once. Because of her appearance, her pursuit had been extended indefinitely. How much longer would she have to wait before she could meet her dream? How much youth did a woman have to withstand such a wasteful pursuit?
Meng Fuyao propped her chin on her hand and carefully considered the possibility of sending Zhan Beiye and Ya Lanzhu to a pile of trash. Then, she recalled the consequences of her carelessly matchmaking Zhangsun Wuji and Hu Sang. She thought about how even a magnanimous person like Zhangsun Wuji could not tolerate such a messy matchmaking and gave her a good beating. If it had been Zhan Beiye, would he not have broken her bones? 'Forget it, let nature take its course.'
Her eyes darted around, not paying attention to the mahjong game. The others were still focused on playing. Zhangsun Wuji pushed his tiles forward and said, "It's a draw."
Meng Fuyao leaned over to take a look and wailed, "My silver …"
That night, Meng Fuyao lost a house, ten mu of land, a dozen servants, and even her new concubine to Zong Yue. Zong Yue didn't want her and demanded that she pay with silver. Meng Fuyao tearfully tried to remove the red jewel bracelet from the Ninth Spirit's hand, only to be stepped on by the Ninth Spirit.
Of course, the Ninth Spirit was no longer the real Ninth Spirit. The one in the palace was real, and the one who had fallen for Meng Fuyao and wanted to rape her was also real. Meng Fuyao had already carefully examined all of Zhan Beiheng's concubines during their time together. Finally, she chose the most favored and boldest Ninth Spirit. She bribed a servant in the inner courtyard and used the Fierce Horse Body Cleansing Powder provided by the vet, Zong Yue, to shock her horse. Then, Meng Fuyao naturally became the hero who saved the damsel in distress. When the Ninth Spirit was successfully gifted to Meng Fuyao, Meng Fuyao immediately sent her far away. In the future, when she learned of Zhan Beiheng's fate, she would not come back to court death. After all, Meng Fuyao had saved her life. The Ninth Spirit that Zhan Nancheng saw was already a disguised secret guard under Zhangsun Wuji. Anyway, it was impossible for Zhan Nancheng to have any deep impression of a concubine living deep in the palace.
As for the treasures beneath the Ninth Spirit's room in the Wang Residence, as well as the forbidden offerings in the medical officer's room, they were all the work of Grandpa Zhan Beiye's secret subordinates. Grandpa Zhan Beiye had the demeanor of the Warring States Period's Lord of the Plains. He had gathered all kinds of talents, and there was no lack of thieves and thieves. They were the best at digging tunnels and stealing. With so many experts working together, wouldn't it be easy to scheme against Zhan Beiheng?
It was a pity that it was easy for General Meng to scheme against others, but he was useless when it came to the people in front of him. Yun Hen was good at counting and could remember every tile clearly in less than two rounds. Zong Yue played like he was prescribing medicine, moving like floating clouds and flowing water. He was even more familiar with the hand gestures of an experienced player like her. He did not count the tiles and did not remember his own tiles, but only Meng Fuyao. Whatever tile she needed, he would not play it. His motto was: I don't care if I win, you can't win either. Zhangsun Wuji was even better. He played leisurely and seemed to lose as well. He did not win every round. At first glance, he seemed mediocre and not as exciting as the other two. But after a round, Meng Fuyao realized that he would win every two rounds and win back all the money he had lost. In the end, he would definitely not lose anything. To be able to play mahjong, an entertainment that relied on chance and luck, to such an extent was no longer playing mahjong. It was a game of wits.
Meng Fuyao broke down and played until midnight. She pushed the tiles aside and shouted, "Three bullying one! I'm not playing anymore! Switch!" She dragged Ya Lanzhu to the table and watched from the side. As she watched, her face darkened.
Once Ya Lan Zhu came up, those few people no longer counted their cards, nor did they keep track of the number of cards. They no longer controlled whether they won or lost. They played openly and happily lost. Lord Ingot was still revealing his cards on the side. Raising one paw meant one, two paws meant two, and so on. The one who showed his buttocks was a white, the one who stuck out his tongue was a red, and so on.
They played until dawn. Meng Fuyao lost a house, ten acres of fertile land, a dozen servants, and a string of red jewels. All of them were now in Ya Lanzhu's hands. Meng Fuyao was so angry that she flipped the table. Indeed, there were differences in character.
She went to change her clothes and went straight to the execution ground.
Today, at the Fallen Dragon Platform on Qushui Main Street of Pandu, she would kill Bei Heng!
= = =
Fallen Dragon Platform.
This was the place where the souls of officials above the fourth rank of Tiansha, as well as nobles, were severed.
Today, it was drizzling, and the Fallen Dragon Platform was wet and slippery. The lines on the white stone floor were clear, and because they were soaked in the blood of countless people, the veins were slightly red. Around the platform, the black stone carvings of a ferocious dragon circled and danced in the air, with its mouth wide open and sharp teeth, waiting for the fresh blood to be sacrificed.
The execution table had already been set up on the platform. Meng Fuyao and Kou Qinghong, the minister in charge of the execution, sat down. She was the deputy execution supervisor.
The huge dragon inlaid saber glittered coldly, surrounded by bamboo curtains. This was the first time a prince had been executed since the founding of Tiansha. Zhan Beiheng would be the most distinguished person the Fallen Dragon Platform had ever devoured. In order to give this distinguished person the appropriate treatment, other than the civil and military officials, the rest of the commoners were blocked three streets away. Even the execution would be carried out behind bamboo curtains to prevent the head of the Imperial Son from rolling around and damaging his dignity.
Midsummer had passed, and the chill of early autumn seeped into people's hearts. The drizzle had drenched the crimson flowers beneath the Fallen Dragon Platform, giving it a miserable beauty.
The monotonous creaking of carriages could be heard on the long street. In the silence, it was somewhat eerie. Gradually, Zhan Bei Heng, with his hair disheveled and wrapped in yellow silk, sitting indifferently in the carriage, appeared in the view of the officials.
Looking at His Royal Highness Prince Heng, who used to be so respected and powerful, in such a miserable state, the civil and military officials of the Heavenly Fiend Empire revealed a sorrowful expression. They looked up at the gloomy gray sky and thought of Lie King Beiye, who had finally crossed the Yi River and was like a dark cloud pressing down on the city. They all had a faint ominous premonition in their hearts. It was as if today was Prince Heng's doomsday, and it was also the doomsday of the Heavenly Fiend Empire. And the blood that was about to flow from Zhan Beiheng's neck was just the beginning of more blood flowing.
If the Iron Hat Prince could be decapitated in an instant, why couldn't the Jade Staircase Golden Palace collapse in an instant?
At this moment, the entire Pandu was silent.
At this moment, the entire world turned their eyes to the bizarre case of the Tiansha Dynasty's king murder in astonishment, waiting for more conspiracies and storms to be hidden behind it.
At this moment, Meng Fuyao looked at Zhan Beiheng, thinking of the old Grand Preceptor Zhou who had died by his hands.
That second-in-command of the two countries, who did not care about honor or disgrace, had spent his entire life working hard to destroy this dynasty. Even after his death, he had still avenged her.
Zhan Beiheng got off the carriage in a daze and was led to the Fallen Dragon Platform in a daze. The four bamboo curtains hung down, blocking the last bit of sunlight.
The end of his life was about to come to an end.
In the silence, a heart-wrenching scream suddenly came from the bamboo curtains.
"The Di family is heartless, they have framed me!"
With a loud cry of pain, it crashed into the heavy sky like a giant pestle, seemingly knocking away the dark clouds a little. However, it was only for a moment before it closed again and came down like a pot lid.
Meng Fuyao suddenly stood up.
Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, she calmly stood up and poured herself a cup of wine. "I'll send Prince Heng off." Without looking at the shocked expressions of the crowd, she turned around and left.
"Lady Meng," the executioner behind her called out in a low voice, reminding her of her current position.
Meng Fuyao turned around and spoke in a clear voice, word by word, "Even if Prince Heng has committed a thousand wrongs, he has already received the laws of the Celestial Empire. He has always treated me well, so how can I leave him in this miserable wind and rain without even a cup of wine to warm his body?"
Under her clear gaze, the officials lowered their heads in shame.
Inside the bamboo curtains, Zhan Beiheng's eyes were slightly wet. In this desperate situation, all the officials were avoiding him to avoid arousing suspicion. Only this idiot commander showed his courage at the juncture of life and death!
Meng Fuyao lifted the curtains and entered, bringing along layers of light and shadow. Zhan Beiheng looked up with teary eyes and saw that the young man had brought the wine over and was half-kneeling in front of him, respectfully offering the wine cup to his lips.
The young man smiled slightly, calm and pure, frank and bright. Looking at such a gaze, the anger in Zhan Beiheng's heart gradually dissipated. He was a little ashamed when he thought about how he had locked her in the woodshed and smiled apologetically.
He did not know about Zhan Nancheng's encounter at the Meng residence that night, nor did he know that the puppet had appeared in the Ninth Immortal's room. If he knew that this sincere young man was the culprit behind the death of a prince, not to mention laughing, he would have immediately pounced on him and bitten off pieces of his flesh.
But now, he was only thinking about something else. Zhan Nancheng, you even killed me, don't blame me for not being polite …
He smiled and did not drink the wine. Instead, he said in a low voice, "Commander Meng … people have treated me unkindly, so I don't need to be loyal. Let me tell you something. It doesn't matter if you remember it or not. Consider it my last gift."
Meng Fuyao's eyes flashed. "Oh?"
"His Majesty has a hidden illness that flares up every autumn. In the past, he would go to the south to recuperate in the name of hunting. This year, it won't be possible … I don't know what method he will use to treat it …"
"Oh …" Meng Fuyao smiled. "That's worrying. What kind of illness?"
"No one knows. I only know that before the Zhan Family took over the throne, he did not have this illness. It was only after Father took over the world …" Zhan Beiheng stopped talking and finished the cup of wine with Meng Fuyao's hand.
Then he said, "… Finally, you came to send me off. I am very grateful."
Meng Fuyao lowered her head and looked into his eyes. She had wanted to use this moment to tell Zhan Beiheng the truth and anger him to death. But when she saw his grateful expression, she felt that it was enough to take his life. There was no need to be so ruthless.
Let him die with the last bit of warmth in the world. Perhaps he could still be a good person in his next life.
She kept the cup and retreated with a smile. The bamboo curtain opened and closed again, slowly covering the slender figure of the youth. His delicate face flashed through the thin horizontal shadows of the bamboo curtain.
All the background was blurred. Only the raindrops passed by his bright eyes. His eyes were as sharp as a swallow's and as sharp as a goshawk's. They flashed in the dark autumn drizzle, looking somewhat familiar.
Zhan Beiheng frowned and pondered.
On a certain night with a blazing torch, in the depths of the palace, the sneering eyes of a young girl in front of a horse suddenly appeared in his mind.
Those eyes … those eyes …
It was as if a lake in winter had suddenly encountered a crack in the ground. Huge pools of water gushed out and covered his head, freezing his heart!
Zhan Bei Heng suddenly jumped up, even though he was wearing heavy shackles.
He shouted, "You …"
"Cha!"
With a flash of the knife, it drew a silver arc in mid-air and whistled down!
The world turned cold in an instant.
Fresh blood spurted up several feet high and splashed all over the bamboo curtain. The dripping blood formed a picture, vertical like the wrinkles of a mountain, horizontal like the sea.
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