Chapter 1195: Hating One's Lack of Strength

The Commandery Princess Manor was quiet, with hardly any servants around. Dong Chiyu liked to cook for herself. Even though the manor had plenty of silver taels, she had never hired a maid or helper, preferring to do most things herself.

In Dong Chiyu's eyes, a person couldn't afford to sit idle. The more idle one became, the more muddled their thoughts grew.

Ever since Ruyi got into an argument with Yan Nantian, she rarely entered the palace.

Still, she occasionally heard news of the Imperial Court.

Most of it wasn't good. The most frequent complaint was that His Majesty was meddling in too many trivial matters, and his temper was growing worse by the day.

Dong Chiyu finished cooking and brought the food to the table.

"The weather is warming up," Dong Chiyu said. "Later, we should go out and buy a couple of light outfits so we don't get heat rash."

Ruyi paused, her chopsticks halting in midair. "We're martial artists. Stuff like that shouldn't matter, right? What difference does our clothing make?"

Dong Chiyu froze for a moment, then insisted, "We still need to buy them."

Ruyi blinked. "You've been acting weird lately. Like an old woman."

Dong Chiyu rolled her eyes. "You have no conscience."

"Hey, Blockhead, what's that supposed to mean? How do I have no conscience?"

"You eat the food I cook, wear the clothes I buy you, drink the tea I brew and the wine I pay for, yet you call me an old woman."

A little angry, Dong Chiyu lowered her head and poked at her bowl, feeling terribly sour.

Seeing her irritation, Ruyi asked, "Are you mad?"

Dong Chiyu ignored her.

Ruyi reached over and shook Dong Chiyu's shoulder. "Aw, Blockhead, it's not like you don't know me. Nothing good ever comes out of my mouth, so stop being mad, okay? Are you really going to stoop to my level?"

Dong Chiyu harrumphed, turned her head away, and reached for a dish on the other side of the table.

Ruyi smacked her lips. "Blockhead, hey..."

"Don't touch me."

"I want to."

"Ruyi, you are seriously annoying."

"Mm-hmm, I'm annoying, and I'll keep annoying you. I know my Blockhead is the best."

"Just eat your food."

"I'm watching you eat."

"..."

Unable to withstand Ruyi's relentless coaxing, Dong Chiyu relented. "Fine, I'm not mad. Now hurry up and eat."

"Really?"

"No."

"Heh."

"Eat."

The Commandery Princess Manor grew ever more peaceful. Three meals, two people, four seasons—settling together into their twilight years.

...

On the borders of Jingnan, Qiuyue Fang was exactly as it had always been.

Returning here after so many years, a single glance showed that the place hadn't changed much at all.

At the foot of the mountain, a figure wearing a conical straw hat to shield against the rain raised his eyes toward the Daoist temple on the peak.

Who knew how many years had passed in the blink of an eye? Standing here again, countless memories rippled through his heart.

The stone steps leading up the mountain were covered in moss.

Nowadays, there was no one left to sweep them clean.

Physician Tong had gone wandering, and the temple rarely opened its doors anymore. Its gates were shut tight; the incense had faded, leaving behind only profound desolation.

The locals in the settlement often said there was an immortal in the temple who would soon return. Because of this, no one dared touch the shrine, and no thief dared sneak inside.

He stepped onto the stone stairs and made his way up to the temple gates.

When he lowered his conical straw hat, he revealed his true appearance.

His features resembled a fox's, yet his gaze was resolute and unyielding.

Chenghuang reached out and pushed open the temple doors.

Fallen leaves littered the courtyard, many of them already rotting. The moment he stepped inside, his first order of business was to sweep away the dead branches and decayed foliage.

Numerous flowers and weeds sprouted from the dead peach tree. Seeds had fallen into the crevices of the wood, taking root and sprouting as if the withered tree were meeting spring.

Once he finished that, Chenghuang began clearing the dust from the temple. In the blink of an eye, the entire place was spotless.

Raising a hand, he drew out several Talismans, laying down Formations around the Daoist temple to keep out riffraff.

He brought a chair out and sat in the courtyard.

Chenghuang let out a long sigh. He sat quietly, saying nothing. Such cold desolation left him in a daze, almost making him feel as if he had come to the wrong place.

Where was Brother Mo? Where was Miss Tao'er?

He couldn't understand how it had all turned out like this in the blink of an eye.

Chenghuang closed his eyes and, with a soft sigh, slowly drifted off to sleep.

A crisp breeze from outside the temple swept into the courtyard, adding a touch of cool relief.

...

Passersby glanced up at the Daoist temple on the mountain. Suddenly noticing its doors were open, they couldn't help but stop and stare.

"The temple doors are open?"

Someone climbed the mountain to take a look, only to find a man sitting beneath a tree, resting with his eyes closed.

It was a stranger.

Chenghuang sensed the visitor outside and opened his eyes.

The person asked, "Excuse me... may I ask who you are? Why are you in the temple?"

Chenghuang stood up. "This place was once my Mister's dojo."

The man was momentarily taken aback, unsure whether to believe him. But seeing how robust and powerfully built the stranger was, he didn't dare say much more. He just nodded and went back down the mountain.

Within a few days, everyone in the settlement knew someone new was living in the temple. No one knew where he came from, nor what kind of deity he was, but one thing was certain: he had settled into the temple and wasn't leaving.

Later on, officials from the Local Government came to question him, and Chenghuang answered every inquiry. Afterward, the Shangguan of Qiuyue Fang checked the old case files and indeed found the name of Mister Chen, so they stopped asking questions.

With the Local Government vouching for him, the common folk in the settlement stopped gossiping about the matter.

Slowly, people began climbing the mountain to offer incense again.

Liuyun Temple gradually regained its incense. Plumes of green smoke curled upward into the sky, as if the place had come back to life.

Every day, Chenghuang opened and closed the doors. He swept away the fallen leaves, dusted the statues of the deities, and managed everything in the temple. Just as he had in years past, he quietly watched over the place, waiting for the Mister to return.

Winter, the fourteenth year of Shunzhi.

Snow drifted down over Shangjing City once more, the vast flurry turning the world a pristine white.

Yan Nantian had aged a few more years, feeling more and more that his strength could no longer keep up with his will.

Panting slightly, he sat before the Imperial Study, admiring the falling snow.

"Your Majesty, it is bitterly cold outside. Please be mindful of your imperial health."

Yan Nantian waved a hand, dismissing the concern.

He exhaled softly, staring at the snowflakes. The sprawling expanse of white was striking to the eye.

"Heavy snow every single year. If Shangjing is getting hit this hard, I fear the snow disasters further north will be even worse."

Yan Nantian felt a headache coming on. He wanted to admire the snow, but the very sight of it stirred up worry in his heart.

"In the autumn, the North Desert People began scheming again. It's only been ten years or so, yet they are getting restless once more. Come spring, they might make a move."

"Hasn't Your Majesty already dispatched General Huang to guard the Border Pass?"

Yan Nantian shook his head. "The North Desert People are a tribe that cannot be beaten into submission. Until they are dealt with completely, I cannot be at peace."

"Sss..."

Perhaps due to the biting wind, Yan Nantian suddenly felt a sharp ache in his knees and couldn't help but inhale sharply.

"Your Majesty, are you feeling unwell?"

Yan Nantian gritted his teeth and raised a hand. "Let us return inside."

As he grew older, more and more ailments began to rear their ugly heads.

Whenever the weather turned cold, his body would ache. These were hidden injuries left over from his early years of campaigning across the lands, and they now tormented him endlessly.

He felt a trace of hatred.

He hated his failing strength.

He hated that time was far too short.