Li Shimin faked his death? Then I will be powerful enough to conquer the world!

The autumn wind of the first year of the Jiushi era blew the fallen leaves from Luoyang City, sweeping across the bluestone pavement of Di Renjie's residence.

Seventy-year-old Di Renjie sat behind his desk, twisting a transparent white jade paperweight with his fingertips. The sunlight shone through the carved wooden window and fell on the back of his wrinkled hands. The hands that had reviewed countless memorials and used cinnabar pens to solve countless cases could hardly even hold the paperweight.

The pile of files on the desk still exuded the scent of ink, but after reading a few lines, his vision went dark and he had no choice but to close his eyes to rest. The weak chirping of autumn insects in the corridor filled his ears, which was very similar to the decadence that could not be hidden in his old bones.

The path he had walked in his life was longer than the Suzaku Street in Luoyang City. From envoy to the capital to prime minister, from deputy minister of the Dali Temple to co-director of the Fengge Luantai, the ink on his documents had whitened his hair, and the turmoil in the court had deepened his wrinkles.

When he was in the Dali Temple, he solved more than 10,000 cases a year, and every one of them was so insightful that everyone was impressed by his ingenuity.

Later, he assisted Wu Zhao, protected many loyal officials in the court where cruel officials were rampant, and firmly held up a pillar in the vortex of the Li-Wu dispute.

But now, he had to hold on to the edge of the table and gasp for a long time before he even stood up, and only then did he realize that this road was really coming to an end.

"Teacher, are you taking a break again?"

A clear voice came from the door, and Su Wuming walked in holding a pile of files. There was some dust on his blue cloth shirt, and it was obvious that he had just returned from investigating a case outside.

He gently placed the file beside the desk. Seeing Di Renjie's pale face, he quickly reached out and touched his forehead: "You don't have a fever, but you're dizzy again?"

Di Renjie opened his eyes and looked at the young man in his early twenties in front of him, with a hint of warmth in his eyes.

When Su Wuming first became an apprentice, he was still a reckless teenager. When investigating cases, he only knew how to follow clues and often ignored the twists and turns of human nature.

But in the past two years, he has helped me solve the Huzhou bee case and the Chang'an shadow puppetry case. Now he has a calm look and a meticulous mind. I couldn't help but nod in agreement with the several doubts I just circled in the file.

"Just take a break," Di Renjie waved his hand, his voice a little hoarse. "You just said there was a new breakthrough in the case?"

Su Wuming's eyes lit up, and he immediately picked up the file and opened it. "It's about the murder of the scholar in the south of the city. I found out that the deceased had an argument with the son of the Minister of Personnel before his death. The son said that the deceased had stolen his jade pendant. But when I went to search the Minister's house, I found that the jade pendant was not missing at all. Instead, there was a manuscript of poems written by the deceased hidden in the son's room. There were a few lines in it that cursed the powerful. I guess..."

He spoke with great joy, his fingers tapping on the file. The sunlight fell on his serious profile, making his eyelashes shine with gold.

Di Renjie listened quietly, occasionally interjecting questions like "How new is the ink on the manuscript?" and "Is there anything unusual about the servants in the Minister's Mansion?" Su Wuming could answer them fluently and even remembered every detail.

Di Renjie looked at him and suddenly remembered himself back then.

When Li Chengqian summoned him to the Liangyi Hall and asked him about the administration of officials, he was just as eloquent, and even remembered the complaints of the villagers vividly.

In a blink of an eye, I became an old man called "teacher", and the young man in front of me was following in my footsteps, growing up step by step into a man who could stand on his own.

Su Wuming said he was tired, picked up the cold tea on the table and drank it all. Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of a piece of pink paper on the corner of the desk. The three words "Apprenticeship Letter" were written neatly on it, and the signature was "Lu Lingfeng".

He was stunned for a moment, then smiled knowingly - in the past two years, the number of people who wanted to join the Di Mansion ranged from Zhuque Gate to Dingding Gate, including sons of nobles and scholars from poor families. Lu Lingfeng was probably one of them, so there was no need to take him too seriously.

He didn't notice that when Di Renjie's eyes swept over the letter of apprenticeship, his eyebrows moved slightly.

Lu Lingfeng was a descendant of the Fanyang Lu family. He became famous at a young age and was skilled in martial arts. A few days ago, he fought and killed a vicious slave who had kidnapped a woman by the Luoyang Bridge. The people praised him as a young hero.

But Di Renjie had read his files and found that the child had too fierce a temper, like an untamed wild horse. Now that he was old, he was afraid that he would not be able to wear down his edges.

"Teacher, if you are tired, go back to the inner courtyard and rest. I will take care of the rest."

Su Wuming packed up the files and said softly.

Di Renjie nodded, stood up with the help of the maid, and looked back when he reached the door.

Su Wuming was drawing a case relationship diagram on a piece of paper with his head down, and the tip of his pen made a rustling sound on the paper, just like when he was judging cases in the Dali Temple.

He sighed softly, he had made the right choice in choosing this last disciple.

As autumn deepened, envoys from the Luoyang Palace came more frequently.

Every time, the palace servants would shout in front of the mansion gate, "Your Majesty invites Mr. Di," but Di Renjie would always make excuses by saying that he "caught a cold."

It's not that he doesn't want to see it, he just doesn't know what to say.

Wu Zhao has become increasingly impatient in the past two years.

The brothers Zhang Yizhi and Zhang Changzong controlled the inner palace. Most of the old ministers in the court were marginalized, and even Li Zhaode was demoted to Lingnan.

Among the memorials she sent over, some proposed to establish seven temples for the Wu family and some proposed to depose Li Dan from the throne. Di Renjie felt his throat tighten as he looked at those words.

He assisted her because she had the talent to govern the country and enable the people to live and work in peace and contentment, but now, she seemed to have forgotten her original intention.

That afternoon, the envoy came again, saying that His Majesty had held a banquet at the Vientiane Temple and that the elders must be invited to attend.

Di Renjie looked at the falling sycamore leaves outside the window, remained silent for a long time, and finally shook his head: "Thank your Majesty for me, and tell him that I feel very dizzy today and cannot move."

After the messenger left, Li Yuanfang came in from the corridor, holding a thick fox fur coat in his hands: "Di Gong, it's getting cold, you should go back to the house."

He followed Nian and grew from a young guard to the calm and reliable General of the Qianniu Guard, who understood Di Renjie's thoughts best.

"Yuan Fang," Di Renjie said softly, looking towards the palace, "Do you think His Majesty will blame me?"

Li Yuanfang lowered his eyes and said, "Your Majesty respects the Lord in his heart. A few days ago, I was outside the palace gates and heard Zhang Yizhi speaking ill of the Lord in front of Your Majesty. Your Majesty immediately slapped him twice, saying, 'How can you, a lowly person, understand the thoughts of the Lord?'"

Di Renjie gave a wry smile. Respect?

Perhaps. But hidden within this respect was so much helplessness and suspicion, only the two of them knew.

When Wu Zhao first became emperor, few civil and military officials in the court dared to speak out and give her advice. Only Di Renjie dared to point his finger at her nose in the Golden Palace and say, "Your Majesty should not use cruel officials."

Later, when she wanted to make Wu Sansi the crown prince, he was the one who said, "If Your Majesty makes a son the crown prince, he can be enshrined in the Taimiao a hundred years later. If you make a nephew the crown prince, I have never heard of a nephew building a temple for his aunt."

They are king and subject, comrades-in-arms, and the people who understand each other best.

But now, one of them is old, and the other is old too. The tacit understanding they had back then has gradually turned into an inexplicable estrangement.

The September wind was chilly, causing the lanterns in Luoyang Palace to sway.

Di Renjie sat in a wheelchair, pushed by Li Yuanfang, and slowly walked into the Danbi of the Wanxiang Temple.

The hall was empty, with only Wu Zetian sitting on the high throne. Her dragon robe embroidered with twelve patterns shone coldly in the candlelight.

Her hair had turned white, and the wrinkles on her face were much deeper than last year. When she saw Di Renjie being pushed in, the teacup in her hand shook violently, and the tea splashed on her bright yellow cuffs, but she was completely unaware.

"Everyone, step back." Wu Zhao's voice trembled a little, and she waved her hand to let all the palace people around her go out.

The palace door creaked shut, and in the huge palace, only the two of them were left, along with Li Yuanfang pushing the wheelchair.

"Your Majesty." Di Renjie bowed slightly, his voice as light as the wind.

Wu Zhao stepped down from the throne and walked up to him step by step.

He was a few years younger than her, but looking at his skinny hands, gray hair, and those cloudy yet still sharp eyes, she suddenly felt a lump in her throat.

"Mr. Guo, long time no see." She tried to make her voice sound calmer, but her hoarse voice could not hide the sobs.

Di Renjie looked at her and suddenly smiled. That smile was like the rare warm sunshine in autumn, dispelling the chill in the hall: "Sister Wu, you are old too."

He hasn't called her "Sister Wu" for many years.

Ever since she became emperor, he had always addressed her as "Your Majesty," respectfully yet distantly. This address nearly brought tears to Wu Zhao's eyes.

She turned her head away and looked at the falling rain outside the palace: "I am not old, I can still sit on the throne for another ten years."

"Yes, Your Majesty can still sit on the throne for another ten or twenty years," Di Renjie said softly, "but I'm afraid I won't be able to wait any longer."

Wu Zhao turned around suddenly, her eyes reddened. "What nonsense! I'll call the imperial physicians right now and have them treat you. They will definitely be able to cure you!"

"It can't be cured." Di Renjie shook his head and raised his hand, wanting to touch her sleeve, but found that he almost didn't have the strength to raise his hand.

"Sister Wu, you know, when people grow old, they are like autumn leaves, falling in the wind. In my life, I have assisted Emperor Taizong, Emperor Wu, and finally you. I have no regrets."

He paused, looking into Wu Zhao's eyes and said, "But there is one thing I am still worried about."

Wu Zhao's heart sank suddenly, she knew what he was going to say.

"Your Majesty," Di Renjie's voice suddenly became clear, with an unquestionable firmness, "Crown Prince Li Xian is a kind man, but he is a little soft-tempered."

"If you can help him ascend the throne and entrust it to Wei Yuanzhong, Yao Chong and others, the world will be at peace."

"The descendants of the Wu family can be crowned kings and granted titles, but they cannot be allowed to hold military power or enter the political arena. Otherwise..."

Di Renjie did not pause and continued, "I am not doing this for the Li family, nor for the Wu family, but for the people of this world."

"They didn't care whether the emperor's surname was Li or Wu. They only cared about whether they could have enough food to eat and live a stable life."

"Your Majesty, you killed so many people to seize the throne, wasn't it to prove that women could rule the country? Now you have done it, but if you don't arrange your affairs well after your death, all your efforts will be wasted!"

His voice gradually lowered, until it was almost a whisper: "Sister Wu, listen to me and return the kingdom to the Li family."

Wu Zhao stood there, looking at Di Renjie who was dying in the wheelchair, and suddenly she smiled. As she smiled, tears fell.

She remembered the first time he defended her in the court, the time he wrote a letter in blood to defend himself in the prison of the cruel official Lai Junchen, and the time he said, "Your Majesty, I think this is the way to go" when she hesitated.

She had listened to so many words from him in her life, but this last sentence was like a knife, piercing the softest part of her heart.

"Master," she squatted down and held his skinny hands, which were icy cold. "First, take care of yourself. We can discuss these things later, okay?"

Di Renjie looked at her, a relieved smile flashing in his eyes.

He knew she had listened.

"Yuanfang," he said to Li Yuanfang behind him, "Push me back."

Li Yuanfang responded and pushed the wheelchair slowly out of the hall.

Wu Zhao stood there, watching their backs disappear behind the palace gate. Suddenly, she shouted into the empty hall, "Huaiying! Stay alive for me! Next spring, I'll accompany you to see the peonies in Luoyang!"