Chà Chà Novel

After killing Helan Ze, Song Liang did not return to court in triumph. Instead, he continued leading his army north, crossing Mount Mule and advancing deep into the royal heartlands of the thirteen Hu tribes.

First came Xie Yun’s face, once enough to strike terror into every Hu tribe. Behind him were the formidable Rong Jing and three hundred thousand troops. Song Liang had the thirteen tribal kings beheaded and ordered the slaughter of every direct descendant of their royal houses.

That battle nearly wiped out the thirteen tribes. Hu blood stained the northern lands, and the brutality shocked even the veteran Northern Garrison generals who arrived in support.

Even later histories of Great Yao recorded the campaign in only one sentence: Wherever the emperor passed, blood flowed deep enough to float shields.

In fact, an accompanying official had questioned at the time whether such measures were too extreme. The Hu were savage, and it was impossible to kill them all. Once they recovered, they would surely seek revenge against Great Yao. What would they do then?

Song Liang laughed. What did he mean, what would they do? Even if the Hu sought revenge, that would be the concern of Great Yao’s future rulers, not his. They had better pray that Heaven bestowed another valiant emperor like him, someone who would drive the Hu back and slaughter them again. Otherwise, Great Yao would deserve to fall.

The official was dumbstruck. What emperor throughout history had not planned for the ages and considered the welfare of his descendants? Why did this one seem determined to leave posterity no way forward?

Then again, this emperor would not even marry a conventional empress. He certainly would have no children, so naturally he cared nothing for Great Yao’s future descendants.

Song Liang paid no attention to his thoughts. Back in Yanjing, he thoroughly enjoyed the glory of being welcomed by the assembled officials, then ordered the Ministry of Rites to prepare an empress’s investiture ceremony while he held a victory banquet.

The Minister of Rites tactfully refrained from asking whom they would be investing and went straight to work.

Besides the heroes of the campaign, the banquet included ministers and their families. Song Liang finally met the Grand Preceptor’s granddaughter, who had nearly become his empress. She was seventeen or eighteen, lovely and dignified. In the original story, she had killed herself as empress when Yanjing fell, dying for her country while still barely into her twenties.

Thinking of the original plot, he watched her a little longer. Gradually, he noticed that the hall had fallen quiet. Looking up in puzzlement, he discovered everyone casting subtle glances at the man beside him.

Song Liang turned. Xie Yun was drinking either tea or wine with his eyes lowered, his expression perfectly calm. His red robes set off his unrivaled beauty, making him almost impossible to look away from.

Finding nothing amiss, Song Liang began distributing rewards for service. Before long, he had drunk a full round. The ministers knew their emperor was reasonably approachable so long as they did not oppose him, and they gradually relaxed. Soon sovereign and subjects were laughing and talking together.

During the banquet, a general named Xiao Yi praised his exceptional valor. The name sounded exactly like one Song Liang knew, so he looked at the man several times and asked teasingly, “Your name is Xiao Yi? Which characters do you use?”

His manner sounded so much like an idle young noble flirting with a respectable woman in the street that the guests once again stole glances at the man beside him.

The general himself noticed nothing wrong and replied frankly, “Your Majesty, my surname is Xiao, written 肖, and Yi is 仪, as in ‘ceremony.’”

Song Liang looked at his sun-darkened face. He knew perfectly well they were different people, and this man was nowhere near as handsome as his own. He nodded and let him return to his place.

As they left the banquet, Zhou An took advantage of helping him along to offer a few words of advice. His Majesty really ought not to keep teasing others in front of the Prince Regent. What if the prince grew jealous and killed someone?

Song Liang considered himself an exemplary, faithful partner. He had never behaved improperly. Xie Yun surely trusted him too, so he dismissed the concern.

Only that night, when he enthusiastically settled astride Xie Yun’s waist, intending to take the initiative, did the man’s utterly cold gaze make him suspect something was wrong.

By then, it was too late.

Xie Yun gripped his waist and pinned him beneath him, holding his erection to deny him release. At last, Song Liang could not help pleading for mercy and asking what had angered him.

Only then did Xie Yun bite his ear hard and demand in a low, rough voice, “Who exactly is Xiao Yi?!”

The question was far too startling. A shiver shot down Song Liang’s back, and his waist went weak.

When Song Liang woke the next morning, Xie Yun was no longer in bed. He lay there trading barbs with 3085 for a while, then got up, dressed, and went looking for him.

At the ancestral temple, he found Xie Yun beside the table bearing the spirit tablets of Great Yao’s ancestors, studying a painting on the wall.

Song Liang leaned over for a look, then smiled and rested his chin on Xie Yun’s shoulder. His lips nearly brushed the hollow of the man’s neck as he murmured, “Instead of staying in bed to admire the real thing, the Prince Regent comes here first thing in the morning to look at my portrait. Isn’t that rather missing the point?”

“…”

Xie Yun turned his head and looked down at the man leaning against his shoulder. That proud, handsome face, those smiling peach-blossom eyes—always so dazzling that he could never look away. Especially now, when those eyes seemed to see only him and no one else.

He bent to kiss them lightly, his heartbeat still unsteady.

Song Liang took that as a sign he was no longer angry and immediately grew bolder. Wrapping his arms around Xie Yun’s waist, he demanded, “You haven’t answered me. Why did you leave me this morning to look at my portrait?”

“This isn’t your portrait.”

“Then whose is it?”

“Emperor Gaozu’s.”

Surprised, Song Liang went to examine it closely. The person in the painting truly was not him, though they were about the same age and looked rather alike. Dressed in crimson cloud-brocade riding attire, the young man sat on horseback with such exuberant, unrestrained spirit that Song Liang had assumed Xie Yun had secretly painted him as he appeared on the day of the hunt and hung it here to admire.

He turned back in disbelief.

“You left me in bed this morning to come and look at Gaozu?”

Xie Yun: “…”

He knew Song Liang was saying it deliberately. Still, it reminded him why he had come here.

“I was afraid I’d hear you calling someone else’s name in your sleep,” he said evenly.

Song Liang burst out laughing. To think this man had heard him call him Xiao Yi as far back as the hut beneath the Western Hills cliff, yet had endured it until now before confronting him.

“The Prince Regent really knows how to hold his tongue.”

Xie Yun pressed his lips together and said nothing. If Song Liang had not kept staring at that general named Xiao Yi the previous night—and mistaken the characters of his name—he had intended never to mention it at all.

Seeing his tense expression, Song Liang dared not tease him further. He stepped closer and embraced his waist.

“There is no one else. I was simply afraid you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Xie Yun looked down at him, his meaning clear: Then tell me.

So Song Liang did.

“Xiao Yi was your name in your previous life. We were already bound to each other then. I came to this life specifically to find you.”

Xie Yun: “…”

3085: 【…】

3085: 【Doesn’t that sound absurd even to you?】

Song Liang: 【Absurd? Isn’t every word true?】

3085: 【Fine. Let’s see whether he believes you.】

It refused to believe the main villain had lost his wits simply by falling in love.

Xie Yun said neither that he believed him nor that he did not. He merely watched without expression. At a loss, Song Liang added, “I swear. I swear before Gaozu that I am faithful to you alone.”

In the end, he still had not denied Xiao Yi’s existence.

Xie Yun looked away from him and up at the painting.

“Don’t you think you resemble Gaozu a little too closely?”

Of course Song Liang did. He had even wondered whether the man in the painting was himself. The resemblance was too striking—not in appearance, but in spirit. That smug, showy expression and bearing… apart from himself, he could not imagine another person in the world wearing them.

The system in his mind began playing dead again. Song Liang smiled and prepared to resume coaxing his beautiful, jealous, immensely powerful husband. But Xie Yun seemed unwilling to be coaxed. He turned and announced that it was time to return for breakfast.

Song Liang followed and hooked a finger around his. A moment later, Xie Yun closed his hand firmly around Song Liang’s.

Song Liang’s lips curved. Before he could speak, the man beside him asked, “Will you come again?”

For a moment, he did not understand.

“What?”

“I’m asking…”

Xie Yun turned toward him, his dark green eyes quiet and calm.

“In the next life, will you come again?”

Will you come looking for me?

Song Liang froze. Something burning seemed to fill his chest and lodge in his throat, leaving him unable to speak.

How could this man love him so much? Enough to believe even something so utterly impossible?

After a long silence, he looked at the face before him, identical to the one from his previous life, and smiled.

“Yes. I’ll come again. In every lifetime. Just don’t hide from me when you see me.”

“I won’t.”

Holding his hand, Xie Yun lowered his head and kissed it.

Even if he forgot everything in the next life, he thought, he would never turn away from this man.

At first sight, he would surrender his heart.

As though it were fate.