He had locked himself away, some said in indefinite seclusion like Zewu-jun. Only those in Qinghe knew what he was doing and they were a tight lipped lot, even before everything came out. Each of the major sects had foundered on the shallows of Jin Guangyao’s end, but the disappearance of Qinghe’s ‘One Question Three I-don’t-knows’ had set all the gossips whispering amongst themselves. Had it really been true that Jin Guangyao had run the Nie behind the scenes as well as the Jin?
In the years he was absent, first they had whispered; then they had talked and finally they had got bored and turned their tongues to more interesting business. And then, four years after the dramatic reveal of Jin Guangyao’s villainy, Nie Huaisang returned to public life.
Not only did he return, he even brought gifts of beautifully bound books of delicate calligraphy. The discussion conference ‘ooh’ed and ‘aah’ed over their gifts with more than just the polite fiction they treated most gifts. And then, they read them.
“What is this?” blustered Sect Leader Yao, “what sort of revisionist history have you given us, Nie Huaisang!” “We all know the truth now, why must you complicate the matter,” said Sect Leader Zhang. “You cannot fool us with propaganda!” said Sect Leader Ma.
Nie Huaisang simply shook his head. “Believe me, or not, this will be Jin Guangyao’s legacy.”