The world of film and television starts from the flow of money

In the autumn of the second year of Chengping.

Wanwan left one afternoon.

That day was exceptionally hot and humid; although it was autumn, it still carried the lingering heat of late summer. She curled up on the low couch, slowly waving the round fan painted with red plum blossoms.

Yi Huawei sat on the edge of the tatami mat, looking at her.

"It's so hot."

Wanwan muttered, "This awful weather is deliberately trying to make things difficult for me."

Yi Huawei reached out and took the fan, fanning her. The cool breeze brushed against the fine silver hair on her forehead, and she comfortably squinted her eyes, a smile curving her lips.

Is this okay?

"Hmm...it's alright."

After a moment of silence, she spoke again, her voice already somewhat unsteady: "Tell me, is Wanjing hot over there...?"

Yi Huawei paused for a moment, holding his fan.

"It shouldn't be hot there; it's like spring all year round over there."

"That's good."

Wanwan chuckled softly: "She hates the heat the most; she's always covered in sweat in the summer..."

The fan continued to wave.

Wanwan's voice grew softer and softer until it was just a murmur: "I have to go find her... so she won't be lonely..."

“She still has me,” Yi Huawei said in a low voice.

"you?"

Wanwan's eyelids were already heavy, but she still managed to open them a crack and looked at him: "You still have the others... I'll go... stay with her..."

The fan slipped from his hand and gently covered her heart.

She was curled up like that, with a slight smile on her lips, as if she were asleep.

Yi Huawei sat on the edge of the tatami mat, looking down at her. For a very long time.

The cicadas outside the window suddenly stopped chirping.

...............

In the winter of the eighth year of Chengping.

The snow was particularly heavy that year.

It rained for three days and three nights straight in the twelfth lunar month, burying the entire mountain village in a vast expanse of white. Many bamboo groves on the back hill were broken by the weight of the snow, making a crisp, cracking sound. The pond was covered with a thick layer of ice, which was then covered by snow, making it impossible to distinguish where the pond ended and the shore began.

Shi Qingxuan passed away on the first morning after the snow stopped.

When Yi Huawei woke up that morning, he found the seat next to him empty. He got up, walked to the window, and saw a faint light coming from the waterside pavilion.

He put on his coat and went out, stepping through the ankle-deep snow, walking step by step to the waterside pavilion.

She sat before the zither, wearing a plain white cloak, her long hair flowing freely, and was stroking the ancient zither that had been with her for over a hundred years.

The music was melodious and clear, like heavenly music, especially pure in the snowy morning.

Yi Huawei did not disturb her; he simply stood at the entrance of the waterside pavilion and listened quietly.

The music seemed to tell a story: the first encounter in that dilapidated courtyard, the countless days and nights spent together over a hundred years, and the thousands of words surging in the heart at this moment, yet ultimately returning to calm and tranquility.

As the last note faded, its lingering melody echoed in the post-snow air.

Shi Qingxuan raised her head and looked at him. Those eyes were still clear as water, just like they were sixty years ago.

"You've arrived."

Yi Huawei walked over and sat down next to her.

"What's the name of this piece?"

"It doesn't have a name. I just suddenly felt like playing it, so I played it."

Yi Huawei took her hand. Her hand was already cold, but there was still a trace of warmth at her fingertips.

"Qingxuan".

"Ok?"

Shi Qingxuan turned her head slightly, looking at him with gentle, tender eyes.

"Thank you for all these years."

Yi Huawei wanted to say something, but she gently shook her head, stopping him.

"I am the one who should thank you."

Shi Qingxuan leaned on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

The sunlight after the snow shone through the windows of the waterside pavilion, falling on her silver hair, her beautiful and refined face, and on the ancient zither that had accompanied her throughout her life.

She leaned against him quietly and never woke up again.

…………

Summer of the fifteenth year of Chengping.

Dugu Feng was the one who left the most swiftly.

That morning, as usual, she went to practice her martial arts on the back mountain. Yi Huawei accompanied her, walking step by step up the mountain path that she had walked for over a hundred years.

Wildflowers were in full bloom on the hillside, yellow, white, and purple, dotting the entire slope. Butterflies fluttered among the flowers, occasionally landing on her shoulder or the tips of her hair.

She was dressed in a black, close-fitting outfit, her silver ponytail tied high, and her posture remained as straight as a pine tree. However, her pace was slower than before, and she needed to stop and catch her breath.

"Want to take a break?" he asked.

"No need." She shook her head: "We're almost there."

Finally, they reached the top of the mountain. From here, they could overlook the entire city of Chengdu, see the winding Funan River in the distance, and observe the city's tall buildings, streets, and bustling traffic.

She stood on the edge of the cliff, facing the wind, and took a deep breath.

"This place is really nice."

Yi Huawei stood behind her without saying a word.

Dugu Feng turned around and looked at him. That heroic face, even in the last moments of his life, showed no sign of weakness.

"I'm leaving now. Xiuxun isn't feeling well, so please spend more time with her."

Yi Huawei nodded.

She looked at him again and suddenly smiled. That smile was exactly the same as that of the female general who had wielded her sword to kill enemies on the battlefield a hundred years ago.

Clean, neat, and without any unnecessary embellishment.

"Take care of yourself."

After saying that, Dugu Feng turned around, faced the distant mountains, and closed her eyes.

The wind blew her silver hair and brushed against his cheek.

She stood there, like a statue, until the last gust of wind swept past her.

Yi Huawei stepped forward and gently supported her shoulder.

Her body was very light, like a feather.

The short sword she always carried with her was later buried beside her. He personally placed it in the tomb, on her right side.

Yi Huawei said softly, "In the next life, I'll forge an even better one for you."

The wind blowing across the mountaintop sounded like her answer.

.........

Spring of the twenty-sixth year of Chengping.

Shang Xiuxun's old wounds from her youth on the battlefield had become increasingly severe over the years. After winter set in, she was rarely able to get out of bed, spending her days lying on her couch, gazing at the banyan trees outside her window.

Yi Huawei stayed by her side almost every step of the way. Sometimes he would feed her medicine, sometimes he would read a few pages of a book to her, and sometimes he would just sit quietly by her bedside, holding her hand.

Her consciousness fluctuated between lucidity and confusion. When she was lucid, she would tell him about the past: the first time she met him, the days they fought side by side, and all the little things that had happened in this mountain villa over the years.

"Do you remember?" she suddenly asked.

"Remember what?"

"That year... the handkerchief you gave me."

She smiled and said, "I embroidered for many years, and then... then..."

She couldn't continue.

Yi Huawei nodded: "I remember."

She looked at him, her gaze as gentle as spring water.

"This life... is enough." He squeezed her hand.

"That's enough, that's enough."

Shang Xiuxun smiled and slowly closed her eyes.

The sunlight that day was exceptionally bright, streaming through the window and casting a soft golden glow on her pale face. Her breathing gradually calmed, and finally ceased altogether.

She just lay there quietly, as if she were asleep.

Yi Huawei sat there, holding her hand, until the sun set, until the moon rose, and until the sunlight streamed through the window again the next day.

Shang Xiuxun was buried in the bamboo forest behind the mountain, next to Shi Qingxuan. That was a place she loved in her life.

In spring, you can hear the sound of bamboo shoots breaking through the soil; in summer, you can hear the rustling of bamboo leaves in the wind; in autumn, you can see the mountains covered in red leaves; and in winter, you can see the snow pressing down on the bamboo branches.

"You guys,"

Yi Huawei stood in front of the grave and whispered, "Being closer means we can look after each other."

The wind rustled through the bamboo forest, making a sound as if they were responding to each other.

…………

In the thirtieth year of Chengping, at the top of the sacrificial tower in Luoyang.

This is the first time Yi Huawei has climbed this tower alone since stepping down.

One hundred and fifty years ago, he personally designed and supervised the construction of this tower. At that time, the world had just been settled, and the people were of one mind with him. He used his unparalleled cultivation to determine the fate of this land. At that time, Wan Jing was still alive, Wan Wan was still alive, Qing Xuan was still alive, Dugu Feng was still alive, and Xiu Xun was still alive.

Now, he is all alone.

The wind was strong at the top of the tower, making his robes flutter loudly. Yi Huawei stood with his hands behind his back, looking down at the completely transformed city of Luoyang.

Skyscrapers stand tall, and traffic flows busily. Railways crisscross the city, connecting the empire into a unified whole. Telegraph towers dot the city, relaying messages from all directions. In the distance, industrial chimneys stand in rows, constantly belching wisps of white smoke—though pollution still exists, it is far better than it was a century ago.

This city, this world, has been completely transformed.

And he still looks the same as he did back then.

A moon-white robe, long black hair, and a handsome face in his early twenties. One hundred and fifty years had left no trace on him.

But those eyes were deeper, more profound, concealing too much. One hundred and fifty years of memories, sixty years of imperial rule, sixty years of companionship, and the empty space left in his heart when those five people left one by one.

"It's been 150 years."

“It has been exactly 158 years since I came here in 615 AD.”

Yi Huawei looked down at his hands. Those hands had killed countless people, held empires, and caressed countless faces. Now, they were still young and strong, but they could no longer hold those hands that had long since turned cold.

He looked up into the distance, his gaze piercing through the clouds as if looking into another time and space.

The wind blew even harder, almost lifting him up.

"In 158 years, I conquered this land and pushed this era forward by a thousand years. I have watched as horse-drawn carriages became trains, oil lamps became electric lights, and post stations became telegraphs. I have watched this nation emerge from famine and war and become the true masters of this land."

"But in the end, what I remember most is the look in their eyes when they left."

The wind suddenly stopped.

The entire top of the tower was so still it seemed frozen in time.

Yi Huawei stood there for a long time, so long that the city of Luoyang beneath his feet went from daylight to dusk, and from dusk to night.

As the last ray of light disappeared below the horizon, he suddenly smiled, a smile tinged with relief.

"enough."

"That's enough for this lifetime."

………………

In the autumn of the thirtieth year of Chengping, in Luoyang City.

This is the day of celebration for the 150th anniversary of the founding of the Chinese Empire.

At dawn, as the first rays of sunlight pierced through the clouds and shone on the enormous spherical structure atop the Sacrifice Tower, the entire city of Luoyang seemed to be gently awakened by an invisible giant hand.

"When~~"

The bells rang from the top of the tower.

At the same time, all the temples, Taoist temples, government offices, and bell towers in Luoyang rang their bells simultaneously.

The tolling of the bells spread in layers, like waves, reaching every street and alley in Luoyang, beyond the city walls, to distant mountains, to trains speeding on the railway, to ships sailing on the canal, and to the farthest frontier of the empire.

One hundred and eight shots.

One hundred and fifty years.

The square where Chang'an Avenue and Luoyang Road intersect was packed with people. Stretching from the center of the square to the horizon, from the base of the city wall on one side to the city gate on the other, the crowd was dense, shoulder to shoulder, yet utterly silent.

No one gave an order, no one maintained order. Everyone stood silently on their own, waiting for that moment to arrive.

In the center of the square stands a huge bronze statue.

The bronze statue stands approximately ten zhang tall, majestic as a mountain. Its base is made of black granite, with engravings on all four sides detailing major events of the empire's 150-year history: the establishment of the dynasty, the conquest of all directions, three reforms, the rise of steam power, the establishment of railways, the development of telecommunications, the return of India to its vassal state, and the tribute missions of all nations…

The bronze statue itself is of Yi Huawei.

He stood with his hands behind his back, dressed in a long robe, his gaze calmly fixed ahead. His face was handsome, his features exquisite, and a faint smile seemed to play at the corners of his lips. That was how he looked 150 years ago, and that is how he looks now.

This bronze statue was erected in the 30th year of the Yonghui reign (1645), funded by voluntary donations from the people of the empire. For the next sixty years, countless people traveled from all over the empire to burn incense, pray, and worship before the statue. People believed that this immortal legend who created the empire would protect everyone on this land in the unseen realm.

At this moment, a group of people are standing at the foot of the bronze statue.

Leading the group was Emperor Yi Mingjun, sixty-six years old, in his prime due to his profound martial arts skills. He wore a bright yellow dragon robe and a twelve-tassel crown, his face bearing a seven-tenths resemblance to his grandfather, yet with a touch more gentleness and refinement. He was Yi Junze's third son and had reigned for thirty years.

Behind him stood the empress, princes and princesses, and members of the royal family.

Further behind were the prime ministers of the Imperial Council, the ministers of the Six Ministries, the chief ministers of the Nine Courts, the grand governors of the various governorates, the ambassadors of the Xuanwei Envoys, the chief of the Institute of Natural Sciences and Crafts, the Chancellor of the Imperial Academy... All the officials stood solemnly, each in their proper place.

Further away were envoys from all nations: the special envoy of the King of India, the leaders of dozens of tributary states under the Anxi Protectorate, the kings of various vassal states in Southeast Asia, the shogun of Japan, and even envoys from the distant Daqin (Byzantium) and Dashi. They were dressed in their most solemn ceremonial robes, making them particularly conspicuous in the crowd.

It is Chen Shi (7-9 AM).

The first rays of sunlight pierced the top of the sacrificial tower, shining directly onto the bronze statue's face. In the morning light, that handsome face seemed to come alive, bathed in a soft golden hue.

In the square, hundreds of thousands of people knelt down at the same time.

There were no commands, no urgings, only the rustling of robes like a mountain collapsing and a tsunami crashing, followed by deathly silence.

Yi Mingjun stepped forward, faced the bronze statue, and slowly knelt down.

He performed the most solemn ceremony, kneeling and kowtowing three times and kowtowing nine times.

Behind him, hundreds of thousands of people followed him, also kneeling and kowtowing three times and kowtowing nine times.

On this land, in the hearts of these people, the existence represented by the bronze statue has long surpassed earthly emperors and become an immortal legend.

"In the thirtieth year of the reign of Emperor Chengping, on the day of Jiazi in the ninth month of autumn—"

Yi Mingjun's voice rang out in the silence, clear and solemn. He recited the eulogy, its content complex and elegant, recounting the great achievements of the Holy Ancestor Emperor Yi Huawei in the 150 years since the founding of the empire, and the glorious journey of the empire from a war-torn Central Plains country to a superpower with a territory spanning three continents and a population unparalleled in history.

The eulogy took a full hour to read.

When he read the words "May the Holy Ancestor Emperor live a long and prosperous life," 200,000 people in the square shouted in unison:

"May the Holy Ancestor Emperor live a long and prosperous life!"

The shouts were like thunder, soaring into the sky, making the sacrificial tower seem to tremble slightly.

Yi Mingjun stood up and turned to face the crowd. He raised his hands and pressed them down, and the thunderous cheers gradually subsided.

"I received the mandate of Heaven and inherited the great lineage for thirty years. Today marks the 150th anniversary of the founding of the dynasty by the Holy Ancestor Emperor. The Great Ancestor Emperor, with his unparalleled divine power, established the foundation for the eternal prosperity of our Chinese nation; with his unparalleled wisdom, he led our empire towards glory. Although I am not talented, how dare I not work diligently day and night to continue the legacy of the Great Ancestor Emperor and safeguard his empire?"

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the dense crowd in the square, and his voice grew even louder:

"The founding emperor once said: The world is vast. Today, our empire's territory extends east to the sea, west to the Mediterranean Sea, south to the islands of the South Seas, and north to the Arctic Ocean. It spans over 20,000 li from east to west and over 15,000 li from north to south, with 200 million people. All of this is the legacy of the founding emperor! All of this is the result of the blood and sweat of the Chinese people over the past 150 years!"

"May the founding emperor live a long and prosperous life! May our empire prosper forever!"

May His Majesty live a long and prosperous life! May His reign be everlasting!

Two hundred thousand people shouted in unison once again, their voices shaking the heavens and the earth.

At the top of the sacrificial tower, the enormous spherical structure suddenly lit up. A soft, warm golden light enveloped the entire plaza.

Everyone was stunned.

Immediately, some began to weep. More people knelt and kowtowed towards the top of the tower. They knew it was the Holy Ancestor Emperor's response. Although he had abdicated ninety years ago, and although he had not made a public appearance for thirty years, he was still there.

He has always been there.

Yi Mingjun raised his head and looked towards the top of the tower.

"grandfather……"

Yi Mingjun murmured softly.

The light at the top of the tower flickered three times before gradually fading away. (End of Chapter)