HNYWEF -Chapter 157 No Conclusion

Taizong’s Reign, Year 5 — Second Month, Fifth Day

The noise of the morning court had just faded when the side hall of the Two Rituals Hall was sealed tightly shut.

The charcoal brazier burned hot with silver-coal, occasionally snapping with faint crackles that sounded unnaturally sharp in the dead silence.

Li Shimin sat on the couch, his gaze heavy as it slowly swept across Fang Xuanling, Wei Zheng, and Cheng Yaojin, then to Qin Qiong and Zhangsun Wuji standing off to the side.

“Sun Simiao’s matter… has now reached a final conclusion.”

His voice was not loud, but it landed like a stone thrown into still water.

“Next… what do we do? Speak.”

The room was so quiet one could hear breathing.

Fang Xuanling stepped half a pace forward and took out a neatly folded sheet from his sleeve, opening it with both hands.

“Your Majesty, there is something this minister must report.”

Li Shimin said nothing, only slightly lifted his chin.

“General Cheng previously reported that on the day Marquis Zhou went to the Ministry of Works to report for duty, he muttered a few… strange words. I had the Ministry of Rites investigate.” Fang Xuanling lowered his gaze to the ink on the paper. “One of those phrases has been identified.”

Li Shimin stared at him.

“‘いまなんじ’.”

Fang Xuanling pronounced it clearly, then explained, “This is a language from Wa—Japonic lands. It means: ‘What time is it now?’”

The expressions in the hall froze instantly.

Cheng Yaojin instinctively scratched his wild hair, looking utterly disbelieving.

“Eastern Sea language? That bear-faced kid knows Eastern Sea language?”

Fang Xuanling did not respond to the interruption and continued:

“Additionally, the remaining phrases—after consulting all records and questioning envoys at the Court of Foreign Affairs—still cannot be traced. But based on context, they appear to mean the same thing: asking the time.”

Then he looked toward Cheng Yaojin.

“When Marquis Zhou dealt with that Wa escort earlier, he also spoke Wa language.”

He closed the paper again and raised his eyes toward Li Shimin, his expression carrying a deeper meaning.

“I believe… Marquis Zhou was not speaking nonsense. He was speaking a language none of us have ever heard before.”

Li Shimin leaned against the table, still silent.

Sun Simiao’s words echoed again in his mind.

“This man’s soul has already lived another life.”

And Li Chunfeng’s divination:

“This man’s fate was already cut off nearly twenty years ago.”

Now, on top of that, there were strange words no one understood.

And they were nothing more than asking the time.

He suddenly felt absurdity rising in his chest—so strong he did not even know how to respond.

“Your Majesty.”

Wei Zheng broke the silence.

Li Shimin looked at him.

Wei Zheng cupped his hands.

“Since the old physician has already declared it, Zhou Xiong’s condition can only be resolved by himself. No one else should interfere. The more one interferes, the tighter the knot becomes.”

He paused slightly.

“In my opinion, what we can do now… is to let things take their course.”

Cheng Yaojin immediately exploded.

“Do nothing? Just stand here and watch?!”

Wei Zheng looked at him flatly.

“General Cheng, do you have a better solution?”

Cheng Yaojin opened his mouth. His cheeks puffed twice, but not a single word came out.

Qin Qiong stood silently to the side, eyes lowered, saying nothing.

Zhangsun Wuji also kept his head slightly bowed, staring at his own feet.

Li Shimin looked at them.

Then again.

And again.

Finally, he let out a long sigh.

“So… this meeting was for nothing?”

No one answered.

He shook his head and waved his hand casually.

“Dismissed.”

Cheng Yaojin froze.

“Your Majesty?”

Li Shimin did not respond. He stood up and walked toward the rear hall.

At the doorway, he suddenly stopped.

He did not turn around—just stood there with his back to everyone for a breath.

Then he lifted the curtain and disappeared into the shadows.

The hall returned to silence.

Cheng Yaojin scratched his head, staring at the empty doorway.

“…So that’s it? Meeting over?”

Fang Xuanling glanced at him and said nothing, turning to leave. Wei Zheng followed closely behind.

As Qin Qiong passed, he patted Cheng Yaojin’s broad shoulder.

“Let’s go.”

Cheng Yaojin stood there for a moment, staring at the curtain still swaying.

Then he suddenly cursed under his breath.

No one knew whether he was cursing the court, fate… or something else entirely.

He turned and strode out.

Footsteps faded away.

The hall was empty again.