nyslfriends Chapter 77: Sand Dunes
Chapter 77: Sand Dunes
The autumn wind is bleak, and the northern air is biting.
On the very night the emperor's entourage crossed the Yellow River, the First Emperor suddenly fell ill in this place.
The witch doctor was helpless, and the elixirs were ineffective.
His body, which once allowed him to wield a powerful crossbow and shoot down large fish, is gradually weakening.
Ying Zheng could even clearly feel that his life was like dry sand held tightly between his fingers. No matter how hard he tried, he could not stop it from slipping away rapidly.
But the more this was the case, the more he avoided the word "death."
He hated hearing words about death, and later hated hearing the words of doctors. He even went so far as to bury several people alive in front of all the officials.
Crimson bloodstains soaked into the frozen soil.
Fear spread like a plague within the ceremonial procession, to the point that everyone in the court was in danger, and no one dared to offer advice or speak of matters of life and death.
In this bleak autumn day.
The heart of the entire empire seemed to be decaying along with the emperor.
The courtiers held their breath and bowed their heads, all the officials remained silent, following the black ceremonial guard that stretched for dozens of miles as it slowly moved westward in the autumn wind.
The wheels rolled over the loess soil, raising a fine cloud of dust.
No one dared to speculate on where the team would ultimately head; everyone was driven by an invisible fear and followed along numbly.
Despite the sandstorm, the grand imperial carriage remained orderly and imposing.
The carriages and horses rumbled on and on; the music and rituals were silent, yet never ceased; the rites of worship were carried out meticulously.
All elaborate rituals are like heavy makeup applied to the dying.
They were desperately trying to maintain the last vestiges of authority of this vast empire.
However, behind those many layers of curtains...
Ying Zheng lay in the brocade quilt, emaciated and pale.
The emperor, who once aweeded six kingdoms and looked down upon the past and present, could not ultimately withstand the passage of time and escape the will of Heaven.
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In the seventh month of the year Bingyin, autumn frost began to appear, and the sky was high and the air was crisp.
After a difficult journey, the imperial entourage of the Qin Dynasty finally arrived at the Sand Dune Platform in the Zhao territory.
The once luxurious palace of King Wuling of Zhao is now overgrown with weeds and trees, a scene of desolation and bleakness.
Inside a desolate palace that served as a temporary sleeping quarters.
The candlelight flickered and was about to go out, its dim yellow light falling on the imperial couch and illuminating Ying Zheng's deeply sunken eye sockets.
The air was thick with the smell of medicine, and a faint, almost imperceptible odor of decay.
At this moment, besides Ying Zheng, only Zhao Gao, who was standing by the bed, was quietly waiting for something in the room.
The hall, now empty except for the two of them, was eerily quiet.
Just when Zhao Gao was almost certain that Ying Zheng was about to die.
"...Heh...Heh..."
Having been in a coma for several days and on the verge of death, Ying Zheng struggled to regain a brief moment of consciousness in the final moments of his life.
He struggled to open his eyes, his chapped lips parted, and a hoarse sound came from his throat.
"...Zhao...Zhao...Zhao Gao...!"
The voice was low and faint, almost inaudible.
However, in this grand hall where even breathing seemed superfluous, a thunderclap resounded in Zhao Gao's ears.
"Your subject is here."
Zhao Gao stepped forward in response, his eyes lowered and his body leaning slightly forward, appearing meek and obedient.
"Has the...Great Master...arrived yet?!"
Ying Zheng struggled to move his eyes, his cloudy gaze fixed on Zhao Gao's face.
His breathing was intermittent, and every word he uttered consumed the last of the emperor's life force.
Since Ying Zheng had a premonition of misfortune, he urgently ordered Zhao Gao to dispatch elite troops to bring the Grand Master Zou Yun to his side as quickly as possible.
And this...
This wasn't the first time he had asked.
"His Majesty."
Zhao Gao answered calmly, just as he had done several times before, with the same respect, "The Grand Master will arrive here in a few days."
"Please be patient for a few more days, Your Majesty. You are ordained by Heaven and will surely be safe and sound!"
The candlelight was dim, casting long shadows of the two people.
As they spoke, Zhao Gao drew closer and closer to Ying Zheng...
He was so close that he could almost feel Ying Zheng's faint breathing. Zhao Gao stared intently at Ying Zheng, trying to glean something from his face.
Under the shadow of death, the strict boundary between him and Ying Zheng had long since vanished.
At this moment, right before them, only the hunter and the prey stand in silent confrontation.
"Crackling sound—"
A gentle breeze, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, swept through the hall, causing the candlelight inside to flicker wildly, almost extinguishing it.
Zhao Gao's elongated shadow twisted and distorted violently in the dim light, like a cold, venomous snake lurking in the shadows, silently flicking its tongue.
Patiently observing its prey, waiting for the opportune moment to deliver a fatal blow.
"Is...is that so?"
A fierce glint flashed in Ying Zheng's eyes, and the anger of being deceived surged forth like magma, as if injecting a new driving force into this broken body.
But then, the anger was swallowed up by a deeper sense of helplessness and despair.
Several months have passed, and every time he is questioned, Zhao Gao uses the same excuse to evade the question.
How could Ying Zheng not know?
The sharp blade he had honed himself ultimately turned against him, turning against him fiercely.
Now, however, he is bedridden, unable to speak or write. The fate of the empire can only be entrusted to Zhao Gao, who holds the imperial seal and serves by the emperor's side.
Thinking of this, an even greater anger surged in his chest.
But Ying Zheng forcibly suppressed it, his face showing no emotion. Instead, he used his last bit of strength to speak with difficulty.
"By imperial decree...I...give to...my eldest son, Fu...Su."
After he finished speaking, he paused for a long time, a metallic taste rising in his throat.
Despite his illness, Ying Zheng clearly and distinctly uttered the final legitimate mandate of the Qin Empire, word by word.
"With the troops under Meng Tian, the funeral was held in Xianyang and the body was buried."
These eleven short characters carried immense weight. They nearly exhausted all his remaining energy and were the last decree left behind by this once mighty emperor after a lifetime of dominance.
Zhao Gao bowed his head and listened attentively, his expression solemn and dignified, without making the slightest move.
He replied politely, "Your subject will remember Your Majesty's decree."
Upon hearing this, Ying Zheng's head sank limply into the pillow, as if even the strength to support it had vanished.
But those deep eyes suddenly snapped open, their gaze sharp and fixed on Zhao Gao.
"Quickly... draft the imperial edict, affix the... imperial seal... and immediately send it to the... prefecture."
His breath grew weaker and weaker, as if it could be cut off at any moment.
Zhao Gao bowed and accepted the order, then slowly retreated to the imperial desk on the side of the hall.
On the table were writing brushes, ink sticks, bamboo slips, and memorials on bamboo slips that had piled up over the past few days, yet no one dared to review them.
They were piled up so high that they seemed about to collapse, as if another roll would fall and cause them to crumble.
Even more eye-catching than the mountain of bamboo slips was the brocade box that sat quietly to the side.
Inside the brocade box lay the Imperial Seal of the Qin Dynasty.
The entire jade seal is four inches in diameter, with five dragons intertwined on the top knob, and is engraved with eight insect and bird seal characters written by Prime Minister Li Si: "Received the mandate from Heaven, may it last forever."
It is the sole token of the nation's sovereignty.
It is also the ultimate proof that carries supreme power and a glorious destiny.
At this moment, in the dim candlelight.
The surface of the jade seal shimmers with a warm and restrained luster, as if it contains boundless power.
Zhao Gao raised his eyes, his gaze sweeping over the imperial seal before finally settling on the dying emperor on the imperial bed. A sneer curled at the corner of his mouth in the shadows.
The candlelight inside the hall was dim, while outside, the rain pattered against the broken tiles.
He neither spread out the bamboo slips, nor ground the ink and picked up the brush, nor took out the jade seal from the brocade box.
Zhao Gao simply reached out and slowly gathered a blank bamboo slip under his sleeve.
Then he turned back to the bedside, bowed his head and stood there again, his posture impeccable.
"Your Majesty, I have carefully kept the imperial edict in mind. Your Majesty is currently unwell, and this imperial edict is of great importance. Once Your Majesty's health has improved, I will immediately draft and issue it, and I will certainly not dare to make any mistakes."
Zhao Gao's voice remained respectful, even tinged with a hint of consideration.
But upon hearing this, Ying Zheng, who was on his deathbed, was deeply disturbed.
Suddenly, he grabbed Zhao Gao's hand, which was hidden in his sleeve, and gripped his wrist tightly with a hand as thin as an eagle's claw.
Those eyes, which were about to go out, suddenly widened, bursting with a terrifying light, and a roar of all-out fury was squeezed out of his throat.
"You...you're lying to me!!!"