The Empress Dowager’s condition had stabilized. With Mo Bai and Lian’er inside to attend to her, Zhan Qingcheng and Emperor Ji, who had not slept for the entire night, did not return to their rooms to rest. Instead, they made their way to a side hall.

A sealed letter was dropped onto the table by Zhan Qingcheng. The glacial air that always surrounded him was even more intense than usual. The frost upon his brow carried not a trace of warmth — today, it was cold enough to feel as though it could freeze the marrow.

Emperor Ji reached over and picked up the letter, which had already been opened.

There was no name on the envelope. He drew out the paper within.

It was the Empress Dowager’s farewell letter.

In it, she wrote that her health had always been poor and she was unfit for long journeys. Moreover, she was ultimately a consort of the late Emperor — in life she belonged to the Zhan family, and in death she would belong to them as well.

She was unwilling to leave the imperial capital, yet she did not wish to be a burden to A’Jiu. She had lived long enough, and she wished to follow the late Emperor into death.

She asked for nothing else, only that she be buried alongside the late Emperor when the time came — the fulfillment of a wish she had carried for many years.

So the Empress Dowager’s love for the late Emperor ran this deep. Asking her to leave the imperial capital and stay beside the Ninth Prince — that would be a betrayal of the late Emperor.

And so she had refused to leave. She feared that if she went, there would be no opportunity in her final years to be buried alongside him.

The Empress Dowager also knew that if she did not go, A’Jiu would stay behind in the imperial capital for her sake — and she would thus be a burden to him.

After much deliberation, it had been the act of taking her own life that had seemed to her the only way out. She had truly felt there was no other road left.

“Has it been this lord himself who has been cornering her — or did someone else take it upon themselves to push her over the edge?” Zhan Qingcheng’s gaze was heavy, and there was none of the restraint he usually showed toward Emperor Ji.

Emperor Ji felt a pang of guilt. He folded the letter back into the envelope, was quiet for a moment, and then said in a low voice, “I… last night, I did speak to the Empress Dowager for some time.”

“You spoke to her — or did you show her a way out?”

“A’Jiu! Are you accusing me?” Emperor Ji was agitated. Did A’Jiu truly think he would drive the Empress Dowager to her death?

“I did analyze your current situation to the Empress Dowager, but my words were not excessive. The Empress Dowager — she simply lost herself for a moment.”

Zhan Qingcheng said nothing. The Empress Dowager’s attempt on her own life had been a profound blow to him. As a son — whether by birth or adoption — it was his duty to protect her.

And yet his own mother figure had nearly died in his manor.

Emperor Ji was filled with guilt as well, but he had never anticipated the Empress Dowager would resort to something so drastic.

The Empress Dowager had shown great kindness to A’Jiu — and in doing so, had shown kindness to the entire Emperor Ji clan. Why would he ever wish ill upon her?

“A’Jiu…”

“How did the Empress Dowager come to have poison on her person?”

“A’Jiu!” The single question nearly launched Emperor Ji out of his wheelchair. “You suspect that I was the one who poisoned the Empress Dowager? Or that I gave the poison to her and encouraged her to take her own life?”

This child! The things he was saying were outrageous! How could he suspect him of that?

Even if he truly hoped the Empress Dowager would stop holding A’Jiu back — if she was unwilling, he would never have forced her. He would have found another way.

How could A’Jiu think him capable of such cruelty? To strike so viciously against a frail and ailing woman?

“Adoptive Father has always placed this lord’s interests above all else, and this lord is grateful for that. But before Adoptive Father acts on this lord’s behalf, has Adoptive Father ever once asked whether this lord wished it?”

Zhan Qingcheng rose to his feet. The look he fixed upon Emperor Ji was unrelenting.

“Half a year ago, when Adoptive Father left the city without reason — was that also something done ‘for this lord’s sake’?”

“A’Jiu…” Emperor Ji’s expression shifted. A flicker of unease passed through him. Did A’Jiu… truly know what he had done to Feng Jiu’er?

Zhan Qingcheng’s expression left little room for doubt. Whether he knew or not was self-evident.

“Adoptive Father has shown this lord the grace of upbringing — that, this lord will carry all his life. But Adoptive Father — if you harm those who belong to this lord again, this lord will destroy everything Adoptive Father holds dear.”

“A’Jiu, what I hold dearest is you.” He had given everything in loyalty — why could A’Jiu not see it?

Did A’Jiu intend to destroy himself?

“No. What Adoptive Father holds dearest is the Emperor Ji dynasty — and whether its former glory can ever be restored.”

“A’Jiu…”

“If this lord were to disband the Hall of Heaven’s Will, raze the Night Underworld Palace, and order his Dragon Warrior Army to lay down their arms and return to their lands…”

“A’Jiu! You cannot do this! Whatever mistakes Adoptive Father has made, they were truly made for you — for your empire.”

Emperor Ji was alarmed. He knew A’Jiu — A’Jiu never joked, and he never spoke words that held no meaning.

He was not jesting. If pushed into a corner with no way out, he might truly be willing to sacrifice every hope of the Emperor Ji clan’s restoration — all for the sake of those he cared for.

If the Hall of Heaven’s Will and the Night Underworld Palace were dismantled, and the Ninth Prince’s army dissolved — what hope would the Emperor Ji clan have of ever reclaiming their former glory?

“A’Jiu, Adoptive Father knows he was wrong. For your own sake — for the sake of the fact that you, too, are of the Emperor Ji bloodline — forgive Adoptive Father this once. Will you?”

Emperor Ji did not dare force a confrontation. He had watched A’Jiu grow up from childhood; he knew A’Jiu’s temperament well.

In a moment like this, yielding was the only path forward.

A’Jiu’s temper was poor, and he often appeared cold and detached — yet in truth, toward those he considered his own, his heart was always soft.

Emperor Ji knew he was fortunate to be counted among A’Jiu’s own.

“A’Jiu, I only want you to be safe. From now on, I will stay out of all matters concerning the Hall of Heaven’s Will and the Dragon Warrior Army. Is that acceptable?”

Zhan Qingcheng still said nothing. Some things could only be understood through experience.

Whether Emperor Ji would honor his promise, he did not know.

He was about to head for the door when footsteps sounded from outside.

Yu Jingfeng stopped at the threshold. “Your Highness — Feng Jiu is leaving.”

The door opened. Zhan Qingcheng stepped through.

Emperor Ji let out a long sigh. There was nothing he could do.

Yu Jingfeng fell into step behind Zhan Qingcheng and reported, “Your Highness, the men have reported that after Feng Jiu brought Leng Yue into the kitchen, she ordered everyone to wait outside. When Feng Jiu left, Leng Yue had not come back out — and the servants did not dare go in.”

Receiving no response from His Highness, Yu Jingfeng continued, “Your Highness, shall I send someone inside to check?”

“What did she say?” Zhan Qingcheng asked. The “she” in question naturally referred to Feng Jiu.

Yu Jingfeng replied, “She said that Leng Yue is preparing the medicinal broth on her own, and that no one is to disturb her for an hour.”

“Have a physician wait outside. Let them go in after the hour is up.”

“A physician?” Yu Jingfeng paused, on the verge of asking something further — but His Highness had already stridden away.

Yu Jingfeng thought it over, and a sudden understanding washed over him.

His Highness meant that Feng Jiu had likely given Leng Yue a thorough beating — and yet, knowing full well Leng Yue had been hurt, he intended to honor Feng Jiu’s word and wait the full hour before sending anyone in.

Yu Jingfeng could not help but feel a certain sympathy. Leng Yue had brought Feng Jiu’s wrath upon herself. She had truly… invited this upon herself.