Starting with a Wei Wu soldier

Chapter 255 The Night Before the Coronation

On the third day of the third month of the first year of Qiming, the eve of the Shangsi Festival.

The hustle and bustle of Chang'an, reaching its peak during the day, gradually subsided into a deeper and more expansive anticipation as twilight descended. The citywide curfew was brought forward, the streets and alleys were deserted, except for the large red lanterns hanging in front of government offices, post stations, and important residences, and the even more magnificent and densely packed lights in the direction of the imperial city, which, in the thin mist of the spring night, spread out in warm and solemn halos, like the quiet yet powerful pulse of a lurking beast.

Tomorrow will be the auspicious day determined by the Imperial Astronomical Bureau after repeated calculations—the day for offering sacrifices to Heaven, proclaiming himself Emperor, changing the era name, and founding the nation.

The Taiji Palace had now become a sea of ​​light woven from countless palace lanterns, candlelight, and moonlight. Every hall and corridor had been newly decorated, the steps repainted, and the imperial road paved with water and yellow sand. Even the air seemed to have undergone a special purification, filled with the solemn and ancient scent of ambergris and sandalwood. Palace maids and eunuchs, dressed in brand-new formal attire, moved swiftly between the halls, conducting final checks and preparations. Their steps were light, their expressions respectful, daring not to slacken or make a sound, for fear of disturbing the tranquility of this sacred eve, and for fear of offending the divine mandate that was about to officially arrive here.

Ganlu Hall was the emperor's sleeping quarters. This hall was not his daily residence, but rather a place specifically for the emperor to fast and meditate on the eve of grand ceremonies. The furnishings inside were extremely simple: a couch, a small table, a futon, and an incense table. On the incense table was the Imperial Seal of the State, covered with bright yellow silk, with only a corner of the intertwined dragon knob visible, shimmering with a warm and mysterious luster in the candlelight.

Chen Xing sat alone, cross-legged on a futon, his eyes slightly closed, seemingly meditating, or perhaps simply sitting quietly. He had shed his somewhat elaborate daytime formal attire, wearing only a simple black satin robe, without a crown, his long hair tied up with a simple ebony hairpin. Stripped of all outward poise and adornment, his face, illuminated by the flickering candlelight, appeared exceptionally serene, and also exceptionally…real.

The hall was extremely quiet, so quiet that one could hear the occasional crackling of a candle wick, one's own steady and long breaths, and even the rhythmic and distant dripping of the water clock in the distance.

But his inner world was far from calm on the surface. Like the undercurrents surging beneath the vast ocean, countless images, sounds, and thoughts were churning and surging uncontrollably.

He recalled the beginning of his transmigration: the drafty mud house in the northern border town, the biting cold wind, the taste of hunger, and the cold, mechanical notifications of the system. Back then, all he wanted was to survive, and to live a slightly better life.

He recalled the first group he had assembled, those emaciated but fierce-looking refugees; he remembered Murong Mingyue, dressed in red, wielding a long sword, fighting alongside him to carve a bloody path; he remembered the scene when Su Xiaoxiao first held the account book, her eyes gleaming with shrewdness, and said to him, "My lord, we can earn even more."

He recalled his frozen fingers and burning blood in the snowstorm when he resisted the northern barbarians; he recalled the countless battles where he narrowly escaped death during the struggle for control of the Central Plains, and the journey with Jia Wen, Chen Wei, Dian Xiong, Shen Qing, and others from strangers to trust, and then to entrusting each other with their lives; he recalled the mist and flames on the Yangtze River, the white banners lowered from the walls of Nanjing, and the heavy, cold, yet seemingly alive Imperial Seal of the State when he first held it…

Ten years. It's gone in the blink of an eye, yet it feels as long as several lifetimes. He went from a struggling transmigrator and leader of refugees to a Star Lord, King of the North, and now, he is about to become the Enlightened Emperor, ruling this vast territory and continuing the orthodox Chinese tradition.

Power, glory, beauty, territory… all the things countless people dream of, he seemed to have within his grasp. Was he not excited and proud? Of course he was. It was a magnificent feeling of standing atop history, looking down upon the path he had traveled; an unparalleled sense of accomplishment in personally transforming the world and shaping the era.

However, along with this sense of accomplishment comes a heavier, clearer responsibility, and a touch of... indescribable loneliness.

Conquering the world requires courage, boldness, decisiveness, and a bit of foresight and luck that are ahead of their time. But what about governing the world? And maintaining it? He no longer faces clear enemies and battlefields, but rather the far more complex human nature, deeply entrenched interests, millennia-old malpractices, and countless unpredictable variables in the operation of a vast imperial machine.

The Three Departments and Six Ministries, the Imperial Examination and the Equal Land Distribution System, laws and rituals... Can these regulations currently being drafted truly ensure the long-term stability of the empire? To what extent can the fragments of modern ideas he brought truly integrate into the body of this ancient civilization and produce positive changes? The system's ultimate mission of "extending the dynasty for three hundred years" is more like an invisible mountain weighing on his heart.

And then there's the harem. Mingyue, Xiaoxiao, Wan'er, Fenghuang… each of them has a unique emotional connection and story with him. After tomorrow, they will all be officially given titles and incorporated into this strict court order. Can he balance these complex relationships, preventing personal feelings from affecting state affairs, and preventing the court from becoming a quagmire that drains his energy? Mingyue's calm and resolute gaze this afternoon brought him comfort, but also a pang of heartache. He knows that for him, for the empire, she is trying her best to adjust and shoulder responsibilities.

Jia Wen, Chen Wei, Dian Xiong, Shen Qing, Zhao Tiezhu... How will these important civil and military officials who have followed him for many years adapt to the role change from "meritorious officials who followed the emperor" to "pillars of the empire"? Will the dramas that have been repeated in history, such as high merits that threaten the emperor, arrogance and corruption, and factionalism and suppression of dissent, be repeated in his court?

Further afield lie new threats on the grasslands, the interests and risks of the Silk Road in the Western Regions, the southern mountains and forests that have not yet fully submitted, and the vast and unknown waves overseas…

There always seem to be more questions than answers. The road always seems to stretch out in the fog.

Chen Xing slowly opened his eyes, his gaze falling on the Imperial Seal of the State covered in yellow silk. This seal was a symbol of power, an endorsement of destiny, but also a contract—a contract with history, with the people, and with this richly endowed land. To accept it meant accepting everything that came with it: glory, power, responsibility, risk, loneliness…

He stood up, walked to the palace gate, and gently pushed it open. A cool night breeze immediately rushed in, carrying the scent of earth and new growth. He stepped outside the palace and stood on the high white marble platform, gazing into the distance.

The night sky was clear and bright, the stars twinkling, and the Milky Way stretched across the heavens, casting a cool and eternal glow. Below, most of Chang'an was shrouded in darkness, with only scattered lights like the occasional blink of a sleeping beast. Further away lay the boundless Guanzhong Plain, gently covered by the night, and the even wider expanse of the vast land he had just unified.

Standing atop this silent peak, alone, through the night, facing the entire empire and the boundless starry sky, a wave of loneliness washes over him. But deep within this solitude, something grander and more resolute is quietly taking root.

He recalled a sentence he had read before his transmigration: "Heaven will entrust a great responsibility to this person..." Perhaps, his transmigration, all the hardships and glories he had experienced, were for this moment, for taking on this "great responsibility".

He is not a god; he cannot foresee all the futures, nor can he solve all the problems. But he possesses the vision and knowledge from another era, the will and team forged through ten years of life-and-death struggle, the hundreds of millions of people on this land who yearn for stability and prosperity, and even more so... that future, which is yet to be known but full of infinite possibilities.

"Tomorrow..." he murmured to himself, his voice fading into the night wind, "will be a new beginning."

To conquer the world, he relied on a system, vision that transcended his time, and the courage to fight in chaotic times. To govern and protect the world, he needed to rely on systems, talent, the hearts of the people, the wisdom of continuous learning and adjustment, and his original aspiration of "establishing a life for the people and creating peace for all generations."

He turned and walked back into the hall, sat down again on the prayer mat, and closed his eyes. This time, his mind gradually returned to true peace.

No more chaotic memories, no more hesitant doubts. What remains is only a near-perfect clarity and focus.

In his mind, he meticulously rehearsed every detail of tomorrow's grand ceremony one last time, considering what his first decree after his ascension to the throne should be, how to receive the first batch of envoys from foreign vassal states, and the upcoming meeting with Jia Wen and others regarding the key policy directions for the empire in the coming years...

The loneliness of an emperor may stem from the weight and thoughts he must bear alone. But this loneliness also breeds the power to make decisive decisions.

The water clock drips again, signaling the end of the long night.

On the eastern horizon, the pale light of dawn was quietly expanding and spreading, gradually tinged with a faint golden-red. Chang'an City awoke, filled with unprecedented solemnity and anticipation. A new day, a new era, was about to officially arrive with the first rays of morning light.

Chen Xing slowly opened his eyes on the futon, the last trace of emotion in his eyes vanishing, leaving only a bottomless calm and unwavering determination.

He straightened his clothes, stood up, and faced the sky outside the hall where dawn was about to break.