Deng Ying lifted his robes and sat down again before Yang Wan, the book still resting on his knees.

Sometimes Yang Wan would ponder: in this world, during the first intimate encounter between man and woman, was it the woman who guided the man, or the man who led the woman? Or to pose a different question – in an age before civilization imposed concepts of “shame” and “love” upon intimacy, which gender derived more pleasure from these pure physical sensations?

Lost in thought, she looked at Deng Ying.

Deng Ying clearly couldn’t answer questions that even history and sociology struggled to trace. He sat silently before Yang Wan, tree shadows from outside the window falling across his body. At this moment, Yang Wan saw in him a conceptual “purity.” She found herself asking without thinking.

“Deng Ying.”

“Mm?”

“When a man and woman are together, who do you think is happier?”

Deng Ying’s fingers tightened on his knee.

“By together, you mean…”

“Intimate relations.”

Deng Ying hesitated for a moment, looking down at his hands clasped on his knees, and replied, “The man.”

“Why?”

“Because the man doesn’t feel pain.”

As he said this, his brows furrowed slightly.

Yang Wan’s heart suddenly clenched, “Deng Ying…”

Deng Ying didn’t respond.

Yang Wan called his name again more loudly, and only then did he look up at her.

“What is it?”

“Deng Ying, do you feel pain?”

“What?”

“Do you feel pain?”

Deng Ying looked at Yang Wan in bewilderment. She sat hugging her knees on the couch, head slightly tilted, brows furrowed, waiting for his answer.

“Yes.”

After uttering this word, he unconsciously lowered his head.

That pain came from scars left by the wound, where scar tissue had grown. Along with sensations of pleasure came an unusually acute pain. No normal man would experience such needle-like pain during intimacy. Recalling his own experiences, Deng Ying’s hand quietly slipped from his knee.

Yang Wan looked at Deng Ying’s lowered hand, her throat tight.

He had simply and directly answered a question that Yang Wan considered difficult to trace, yet he belonged to neither gender.

Yang Wan had thought her previous research on Deng Ying had already broken new ground beyond her predecessors. But now, she discovered another entry point in understanding this person’s physical existence.

His self-pity, self-blame, and self-destruction stemmed from the destruction of his gender identity.

“Come lie down.”

As she spoke, she moved inward to make room.

Deng Ying obediently took off his shoes and lay down beside Yang Wan.

Yang Wan looked at the damp marks on the wooden beams above, gently grasping Deng Ying’s arm.

Deng Ying turned his head to look at Yang Wan, submissively extending his arm toward her, “Wan-wan, let me wash my hands…”

“Don’t go.”

Yang Wan held Deng Ying’s hand, “I don’t want to do anything else, just want to lie here with you for a while.”

Deng Ying didn’t resist Yang Wan further, straightening his legs to lie quietly.

Yang Wan leaned against Deng Ying’s shoulder, silently closing her eyes.

The wind stirred shadows of withered trees on the window, filling the room with autumn shadows, while leaves rustled against the window frame.

“Are you asleep?”

“Don’t you want to eat something? Li Yu gave me an egg.”

“Not hungry.”

Yang Wan turned over, curling up entirely under the blanket, “Deng Ying.”

“Here.”

“I won’t read that book anymore.”

“Why?”

Yang Wan curled up tighter, “That book can teach you what to do, but it can’t teach me.”

Deng Ying looked at Yang Wan’s hair exposed outside the blanket and said softly, “You don’t need to do anything.”

He turned over to face Yang Wan’s back, “I will serve…”

Before he could finish saying “you,” Yang Wan pinched the back of his hand hard. Deng Ying furrowed his brows and swallowed the rest of his words.

“Don’t talk while sleeping.”

After speaking, she released his hand and curled herself into a ball.

Deng Ying moved more than half the blanket over to Yang Wan, softly responding “Alright.”

With Deng Ying back in control of the Eastern Factory, the cabinet immediately submitted a memorial jointly signed by the Wenhua Hall lecturers and cabinet members, requesting the formal appointment of the Crown Prince.

In the main hall of the Ceremonial Office’s inner court, He Yixian and several secretarial eunuchs were processing imperial edicts on behalf of the emperor.

Emperor Zhenning’s illness often left him confused, and nearly all state affairs had fallen to the cabinet and Ceremonial Office.

Since Yangxin Hall no longer used the imperial seal, He Yixian had it brought directly to the Ceremonial Office.

That day, Hu Xiang stood at the document desk, moistening and turning pages of memorials, attending to He Yixian’s use of the seal.

He Yixian rubbed his waist, temporarily setting down the seal and smiling, “I’m getting old.”

Hu Xiang smiled along, “Your Grace must stay strong, otherwise who could handle these important matters?”

Just then, the door was suddenly pushed open, and Secretary Li hurried in.

Hu Xiang looked up, “What’s wrong? Why so disheveled?”

Secretary Li adjusted his hat and said to He Yixian, “Your Grace, we can’t hold back the Ministry of War’s memorial any longer.”

He Yixian straightened his back, “Did you tell the Minister of War what I asked you to?”

“I did.”

Secretary Li walked to He Yixian, accepted tea from an attendant, and took a sip, “Minister Liu Xian and Vice Minister Song Ge are both Bai Huan’s disciples. Your Grace asking them to remove their signatures from the Crown Prince’s memorial – how could that be easy?”

He Yixian laughed and gestured for Hu Xiang to turn the memorial, “Then keep holding it back.”

“Your Grace, listen to me – we can’t hold it back anymore!”

Secretary Li grew anxious, dropping to his knees before He Yixian, “If we keep holding it back, I fear they’ll kill our people in the northern army.”

He Yixian signaled Hu Xiang to continue passing memorials, saying evenly, “You worry for your descendants?”

“Your Grace…”

He Yixian raised his other hand, cutting off Secretary Li’s words, and lifted the seal, straightening up to say, “How could I not worry for them? All these years, guarding the desert frontier, listening for news from the north for me, little money, much hardship, but…”

He bent down close to Secretary Li, “If we old bones cannot preserve ourselves, how can we protect our descendants outside?”

Secretary Li’s throat tightened, his hand clenching into a fist on the ground.

He Yixian sighed, “These past years, you’ve been good to the children below you, I’ve seen it all. They’re filial to you too. Seeing everything going smoothly, you’ve forgotten our situation.”

“Your servant is ashamed…”

He Yixian shook his head, “Once the Crown Prince ascends the throne, we’ll immediately be stripped of our positions and dragged to the execution ground by Yang Lun and his kind. Having our heads fall would be merciful – what’s frightening is being chopped to pieces, with no remains to collect.”

At these words, even Hu Xiang standing nearby trembled.

Secretary Li said, “His Majesty wouldn’t do this to Your Grace.”

“Who can be sure?”

He Yixian laughed, “No matter how much the master cares for us, this realm belongs to his family. If we want to live, we can only please the master, but if the next master hates us, ten thousand pardons won’t help.”

Secretary Li said, “But Your Grace, the succession ultimately depends on His Majesty’s wishes, how can we…”

“Why panic? Why has the master always avoided discussing succession? The cabinet only knows how to lecture about grand principles at the palace gates – when have they ever considered the master’s feelings? How could the master not hate them? Surely you see now – we’re just struggling to survive in the gap between these officials and the master. As long as the succession remains undecided, our path isn’t dead yet.”

Secretary Li lowered his head, “Your Grace, why can’t we take a path to survival like Factory Official Deng?”

“Path to survival?”

He Yixian forced a laugh through clenched teeth, which gradually grew louder as his expression became somewhat fierce.

“You think he’s walking a path to survival? Little do you know, that’s truly a path to death – missing two ounces of flesh, yet presuming to stand alongside those people. What’s the outcome? Yang Lun, Bai Yuyang – which of them isn’t afraid of being tainted by his stench?”

As his words fell, everyone in the room fell silent.

He Yixian rubbed his waist and said to Hu Xiang, “Continue turning.”

The setting sun gradually faded as the cabinet office’s charcoal fire was replenished again and again.

Yang Lun walked in from outside, removing his robe while saying, “I went to see Liu Xian from the Ministry of War and temporarily pacified him.”

Bai Huan watched the sparks continuously bursting from the charcoal basin, “How many days has their memorial been held back?”

Yang Lun said, “Seven days. If we delay any longer, the Gu and Qian armies in the north will run out of provisions.”

Bai Yuyang slapped his knee, “Never mind Liu Xian being anxious – my heart burns like these coals. Though the six ministries’ affairs haven’t stalled, the Ceremonial Office is holding back crucial memorials from the Ministries of War and Revenue, as well as our memorial requesting the Crown Prince’s appointment. Sooner or later, there will be chaos.”

Yang Lun said, “They want to see chaos. Yesterday Liu Xian almost stormed Yangxin Hall. With His Majesty gravely ill, the Ceremonial Office can easily apply the charge of disturbing imperial peace, and the Northern Censorate waits on the steps to arrest people. How many officials from the six ministries can withstand such losses? Minister Bai, we’ve learned enough lessons in dealing with the Ceremonial Office. Before His Majesty, one move affects everything. Huang Ran and Zhou Congshan are warnings from the past. If it were for private gain, death would be acceptable, but if our deaths hand this bright realm to the eunuch faction, I, Yang Lun, cannot accept it!”

Bai Yuyang said nothing, throwing his teacup down.

Porcelain shards scattered everywhere.

Yang Lun glanced at the mess on the floor, secretly sighed, and stood up saying, “Teacher, I’ll go see Deng Ying.”

He walked toward the door, but just as he reached it, heard the attendant say, “Sir, the Factory Official is outside, and has been standing there for a while.”

Yang Lun looked up to see Deng Ying standing before the main gate.

Yang Lun unconsciously let out a breath and walked toward him.

“You know about the Ministry of War’s situation?”

“I know.”

His voice wasn’t loud but was steady, “Stabilize the Ministries of War and Revenue. I’ll submit the memorial.”

After hearing this, Yang Lun nodded unconsciously, then immediately asked, “How will you submit it?”

Deng Ying looked up, “As Eastern Factory Superintendent, I’ll investigate the Ceremonial Office and retrieve the held memorials.”

Yang Lun said, “You’ll use the Eastern Factory to confront the Ceremonial Office in the inner court?”

“Yes.”

Deng Ying lowered his eyelids and said evenly, “Zixi, once these memorials are submitted, there are two possible outcomes: either the Empress will punish me for disturbing His Majesty’s recovery, or His Majesty will punish He Yixian for delaying state affairs. My punishment is inevitable, but it only involves palace rules – it won’t touch the root. But as for He Yixian’s punishment…”

Yang Lun continued, “His Majesty might not punish him at all.”

Deng Ying took a deep breath, “No, His Majesty will punish him. But, Zixi, if this time He Yixian isn’t sentenced to death, then this succession struggle will see blood.”

“What do you mean…”

Deng Ying said, “Do you remember the ‘Red Pill Case’ from the previous reign?”