Sorrow In Autumn

Chapter 3. The Gathering

Can anyone guess who the Empress is?

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Note: Magpies are a symbol of love in China, especially Ancient China.

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Edit 2021: This chapter has changed a little. Some errors and mistakes fixed.

Edit 2022: Some new characters. Zhang Qiling from DMBJ and Mo Ran from 2HA. These two feature later in the story, but in this edit they appear much earlier. Not being here makes little sense when you find out the truth later.

Zhu Hong is no longer Da Huang. There are nine after all.

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There were moments when he wished for more time.

For those golden moments with smiling obsidian eyes and that rich laugh to exist for all eternity. For just another few minutes, giving him enough time to spare some of his men, or save some of the innocents caught in the middle of a war.

For his time in the Palace to fly by faster still, so he could return to the front. For his brother's life, to have lasted years more. For the explosion to have happened just minutes later than it did, so his mother and Ye Zun could have escaped unharmed. For time to be on his side of this conflict just once...for the gift of controlling time. For the chance to save Kunlun.

Days like today dragged on, with the invincible march of time.

It had been ten years.

A decade of mourning, every step weighted with grief and pain that wound around his heart with the chains of loss. The unfathomable idea that Kunlun could be truly gone from his world and yet, Shen Wei refused to believe he was dead.

The pain had become a shadow, the ache of loss bleeding into every action and the memory of Kunlun defining his choices. He had rebuilt the Dixing nation with Kunlun in mind, refusing to follow the tainted footsteps of his ancestors, in favor of creating a world Kunlun would have been proud of. Anything else would be a betrayal.

The autumn seemed colder this year, the skies echoing his mood as the grey clouds gathered above the wide polished steps of the Dixingian Palace.

His expression was hidden from the gathering before him, concealed by the black mask he wore in preference to the beaded curtain, that never failed to remind him of Ye Zun.

The black ceremonial robes he wore lay heavy on his skin. They were embroidered with the dark blue flowers of Dixing down his chest and he could so easily imagine Kunlun grinning at the symbolism, as clever fingers followed the pattern. There was gold brocade decorating the collar, while white tigers curled around the belt and flames ran around the hem in gold thread. Pressed near the hollow of his throat hidden by the robe collar, his jade pendant felt warm. His single comfort.

His hair had been carefully braided, the crown of Dixing secured not by his father's gold pin as Ye Zun had chosen, but by an exquisite white jade hairpin crafted in Shangbei, finished with silver. Three jade charms dropped from the end of the pin on intricate chains. One was the flower of Dixing, a pair of magpies twinned in flight and the third was a tiny cat.

Kunlun had pinned it into his hair one night, on his birthday hours after a battle had ended with Shen Wei's bandaged shoulder. Unhappy lips had pressed kiss after kiss to his chest as callused hands threaded through his hair and by candlelight they had made love, his heart overflowing at the handmade gift. He remembers opening the box, stroking the long elegant pin, that was heavier than fashion dictated...remembers ordering them to make whatever changes to the crown they needed, to make this pin fit.

Remembers the first time it had perfectly held the crown. No riches could compare to what Kunlun made him feel.

If he had to wear a crown, he would carry it with the gift crafted by Kunlun's hands.

He needed those memories as the world came to Dixing, in a flood of dignitaries and barely settled feuds. They came from the Provinces of Dixing, and from the lands beyond their borders.