Chapter Eight: Qin Shi Huang and the Heshibi Jade Disc

After waking up, I told Teacher Xing and the others about the dream. They were silent for a moment before asking me, “What do you want to do?”

“I want Fusu to see Emperor Qin Shi Huang one more time.” Before his death, all Fusu longed for was to see his father again. I wanted to fulfill that wish for him.

“That’s possible,” Teacher Xing agreed.

Teacher Xing had previously explained to me that after death, the heavenly soul returns to the heavens, the earthly soul descends into the underworld, and the seven spirits disperse. Only the human soul, acting as the guardian spirit, remains by the corpse in that lifetime. Thus, though a person can be reincarnated, the soul of that lifetime still exists.

Arranging a meeting between Fusu and Emperor Qin Shi Huang was not as complicated as I had imagined.

In the meditation hall, Teacher Xing sat behind a low table, eyes closed, chanting the names of Fusu and Qin Shi Huang. A breeze swept through the hall and into the corridor outside.

The wind transformed into a gray mist, and through the haze, a man appeared in a dark dragon robe adorned with accessories and wearing a towering crown. Behind him marched countless shadow soldiers. Facing him was a striking young man with tear-filled eyes, and beside the youth stood a gentle woman radiating a refined grace.

Because this gentle woman had not been summoned but had appeared on her own, even Teacher Xing was a bit surprised. “Fusu’s mother has come along as well.”

Teacher Xing granted them only one hour to reunite, so they could clear up the emotional knots and misunderstandings from that lifetime.

I had originally hoped to overhear their conversation, but all three spoke in obscure, harsh Old Qin language, which was even harder for a modern ear to comprehend than a foreign tongue; I couldn’t understand a single word.

Resting my chin on my hands, I watched outside and asked Teacher Xing, “Who, then, is the real Fusu—the one out there or me?”

Without looking up, Teacher Xing quietly played with a string of bodhi beads in his hand. “He is you from that lifetime, and you are him reincarnated. To put it simply, both of you are Fusu.”

My thoughts drifted, and I suddenly thought of Meng Tian.

The friendship of their youth and their life-and-death bond on the battlefield ultimately could not withstand Meng Tian’s own thirst for power and ambition, nor his long-standing jealousy of Fusu.

Historically, no one ever doubted Meng Tian—not only because of the brotherly bond he shared with Fusu but also because Meng Tian died shortly after Fusu.

Meng Tian likely did not foresee how ruthless Zhao Gao was. With Fusu’s death, Zhao Gao had no more worries holding him back and naturally would not spare Meng Tian and Meng Yi, the brothers who had once offended him.

Zhao Gao immediately turned against Meng Tian. Stripped of his military command, Meng Tian was imprisoned—ironically, in the very same prison where Meng Tian had once confined Fusu. Knowing there was no hope, Meng Tian took out the remaining poison from his bosom and ended his own life.

From then on, no one knew of Meng Tian’s betrayal and sins. History was rewritten, the truth concealed, and only Fusu himself could have recorded this chapter of the past.

“Fusu—” a deep, low call pulled me from those memories.

I looked up in disbelief… I understood?!

The Emperor on the corridor gazed at me with profound eyes, his voice seeming to pierce through thousands of years, “Fusu, don’t be angry anymore… I have never truly been angry.”

This was what the Emperor had always wanted to tell Fusu: he had long since ceased to be angry with him. Fusu had always been the child who made his father proud.

Unexpected tears welled in my eyes, and I could no longer contain the sorrow. I sobbed uncontrollably.

Fusu never truly believed his father intended to kill him; he was just terrified that his father might still be angry with him. Though father and son seemed unwilling to yield, each understood the other’s heart. Yet, stubbornness, pride, and unspoken principles kept them from reconciliation, and they passed away with regrets.

Teacher Xing, seated behind the table, shook his head, then rose and left for the next room, leaving the space to me.

Unbeknownst to me, in the adjoining room, Yang Yue sat on the bed staring towards the door. Her bright, delicate eyes flickered with curiosity as she turned to Teacher Xing and asked, “Emperor Qin Shi Huang isn’t an ordinary mortal, is he?”

“Who could become the Eternal Emperor if he were just a mere mortal?” Teacher Xing narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, glancing toward the Emperor in the corridor. “He should be an incarnation of some powerful figure from the divine realm.”

“A powerful figure?”

“I’m not sure exactly who, but… Xiao Qian probably knows.”

Teacher Xing said with meaning, “She likely knows much more.”

While I was still sniffling and crying, a glowing, translucent square-shaped object flew diagonally through the door toward me. Inside the orb of white light was a smooth, pale yellow jade seal—the Heshibi.

I looked at it, dazed. My tears gradually stopped. Hesitating for a moment, I reached out my hands, and the Heshibi gently fell into my palms.

“Take it. I give it to you—” the Emperor’s voice remained strong and resolute.

Before his death, the Emperor had been intent on passing both the Heshibi and the Qin Empire into Fusu’s hands. The Heshibi, bearing the Emperor’s memories and attachment from a thousand years ago, had now arrived in the hands of Fusu’s reincarnation after all this time.

With those words spoken, he turned and, accompanied by Fusu and his wife, vanished once more into the mist of the corridor.

When the incense representing Heaven’s fragrance on the altar in the meditation hall burned down to its tip, it trembled slightly, scattering fragrant smoke. The statue of the Jade Emperor in the mist became ethereal and intangible.