On the last day of the mourning period, news finally arrived: someone had been spotted at Mount Bei at night, moving several huge stones and burying them under the snow.

“Looks like they chose Plan B,” said Yu Wanyin. “Are our people in position?”

Xiahou Dan: “They’ve been hiding in the mountains for days. On the day of the funeral, the Imperial Guards will also surround Mount Bei, giving them no opportunity to make a move.”

After finalizing the action details with the secret guards, Yu Wanyin brought up Xie Yong’er’s matter. Xiahou Dan had no objections and immediately arranged a carriage to send her away.

Although everything was ready, Yu Wanyin still felt increasingly uneasy, as if some crucial detail had been overlooked.

She went through the plan in her mind over and over again, feeling it was becoming more dangerous the more she thought about it.

Xiahou Dan: “Don’t just worry about others, what about yourself? Why don’t you go with Xie Yong’er and hide first…”

Yu Wanyin interrupted him: “I’ll go to Mount Bei with you.”

Xiahou Dan: “?”

Xiahou Dan frowned and said: “No.”

“I can disguise myself as a guard, like before—”

“You can’t help even if you come.”

“I can help, otherwise what was the point of making guns? Don’t forget my shooting is more accurate than yours.”

“We don’t need one more person!” Xiahou Dan took a breath and softened his tone, “Listen, this time it’s truly dangerous. I thought this wasn’t even something we needed to discuss. Didn’t we already agree when you were made Empress?”

“Agree to what?”

Xiahou Dan: “.”

Yu Wanyin pressed him: “Agree to what?”

“Agree to set my mind at ease,” Xiahou Dan said flatly. “Do you want me to have one more worry when facing life and death?”

Yu Wanyin turned and walked away with large strides.

She didn’t know if what stung her was Xiahou Dan’s tone that sounded like he was leaving last words, or the ominous premonition in her heart that wouldn’t go away.

The secret guards looked to Xiahou Dan for direction.

Xiahou Dan’s expression remained calm as he dismissed them, then knelt alone before the spirit tablet, waiting for the next batch of officials to come to pay their respects.

Footsteps approached from afar, and Yu Wanyin returned hurriedly, saying impatiently: “Let’s go, what are you still kneeling for? They’re already planning to make their move at Mount Bei, are you planning to spend the New Year with the Empress Dowager?”

With a stern face, she pulled Xiahou Dan up and called loudly to the palace servants: “His Majesty is unwell, quickly help him back to his chambers to rest.”

Xiahou Dan hastily played along, saying sorrowfully: “But my mother…”

Yu Wanyin earnestly advised: “Your Majesty, your health is paramount. Don’t risk missing tomorrow’s funeral.”

Xiahou Dan: “Well, that makes sense.”

So they returned to the imperial chambers, closed the doors, and sent away all the servants.

Yu Wanyin: “Shall we make dumplings?”

Xiahou Dan looked at her expression with some surprise. Yu Wanyin suppressed the anxiety in her heart and turned her head away: “Let’s make some, it’s the New Year after all. I’ll call Uncle Bei.”

Thinking that after today, she didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, time had never felt so precious, and she couldn’t even bear to be angry anymore.

Xiahou Dan smiled: “Alright.”

Bei Zhou gladly accepted the invitation and brought a complete set of kitchen tools, demonstrating his exceptional dough-making skills.

Xiahou Dan took off his mourning clothes and helped chop the filling, with the distance between each cut as unpredictable as human fate. Yu Wanyin watched for a while, then couldn’t bear it anymore and grabbed the knife: “Step aside.”

Xiahou Dan refused to leave and insisted on commenting: “You’re only slightly better than me.”

“Still better than you… Let’s switch positions, do you know how to wrap dumplings?”

Bei Zhou: “How could he possibly know? Let me do it, you two go play.”

Bei Zhou moved skillfully, his hands flying up and down, doing the work of ten people. Yu Wanyin couldn’t find a way to help, so she decided to do something else.

The palace had originally prepared New Year decorations, but due to the Empress Dowager’s untimely death, everything had been put away. Yu Wanyin searched for a while and found two dragon and phoenix palace lanterns. Unable to hang them outside, she hung them by the bedside for her amusement.

She went to the side hall to call Xie Yong’er: “Want some dumplings?”

Xie Yong’er: “…Yes.”

Surprisingly, Xiahou Dan had written a pair of Spring Festival couplets.

Yu Wanyin asked in astonishment: “Your handwriting?”

“How is it?”

“Was your handwriting this good before?”

Xiahou Dan didn’t look up, finishing a stroke with a light smile at the corner of his mouth: “I’ve practiced, of course.”

Yu Wanyin tilted her head to look closely, still pondering. They had practiced calligraphy together, but his progress was too remarkable, suddenly leaving her far behind.

Xiahou Dan: “Stop thinking about it. I had a breakthrough, and you can only look on with envy, helpless.”

Yu Wanyin: “?”

Yu Wanyin’s fist clenched: “Are you a middle school student?”

Xiahou Dan began to laugh.

Xie Yong’er: “Ahem.”

She coughed politely, reminding them there was still a third wheel present: “Is there anything I can do?”

“There is,” said Xiahou Dan. “Where’s your guitar? Bring it and play ‘Congratulations and Prosperity’?”

Xie Yong’er was dumbfounded.

After what felt like centuries, Xie Yong’er finally realized what she had experienced.

“You… you two…” her fingers trembled, “When I was playing guitar…”

Xiahou Dan nodded: “Your Canon in D was pretty good.”

Yu Wanyin: “And Romance d’Amour.”

Xiahou Dan: “Just hit some wrong notes, but I held back my laughter.”

Xie Yong’er: “…”

“Don’t be like that,” Yu Wanyin nudged him with a straight face, “Actually, there weren’t many mistakes.”

“Yes, yes.”

Xie Yong’er: “……”

The dumplings were ready. The group sat around the table and poured some wine.

Outside the window, night had fallen, and snow was floating down in flurries.

Xiahou Dan made a surprised sound: “What’s this hurting my teeth…” He spat it out and looked, then froze.

It was a copper coin.

Bei Zhou raised his cup with a smile: “Danr, may everything go as you wish, and may you be safe year after year.” This New Year’s meal was extremely casual, so he didn’t mind palace etiquette; this was simply an elder’s blessing to a younger one.

Xiahou Dan paused, then suddenly stood up.

Bei Zhou hadn’t yet reacted and remained seated, watching as Xiahou Dan raised both arms, holding his wine cup at eyebrow level, and bowed to him.

It was the ceremony of a son to an elder.

Bei Zhou was startled and hurriedly stood up: “Danr, you mustn’t!”

Yu Wanyin smiled and pulled him: “It’s fine, Uncle, just accept it.” She thought to herself that Xiahou Dan’s movements and demeanor were so well-captured, though she didn’t know how he had practiced, it was extremely impressive to watch.

Bei Zhou stutteringly returned the gesture, his eyes turning slightly red.

Xiahou Dan filled another cup and then turned to Yu Wanyin.

Yu Wanyin: “.”

Sensing something, she instinctively stood up to face him.

Xiahou Dan gazed at her unwaveringly, his deep and beautiful eyebrows reflecting the wine light, his eyes showing a rippling glow. He slowly raised his cup to his eyebrows, then solemnly lowered his gaze.

Yu Wanyin imitated his movements and bowed to him in return.

This was the ceremony between husband and wife.

Her ears began to heat up, and the ordinary wine cup in her hand suddenly felt hot, as if it had taken on the meaning of a wedding cup.

Xie Yong’er and Bei Zhou silently accelerated their dumpling-eating pace.

The snow had subsided, and the clouds over the capital gradually dispersed, revealing a clear night sky.

Li Yunxi went to visit Cen Jintian and shared a New Year’s meal with him. On the way back, he remained lost in thought. Yang Duojie, who was in the same carriage, curiously asked: “What’s wrong with you?”

“Do you think…” Li Yunxi had a difficult expression, “That Er Lan is a bit too attentive to Brother Cen?”

Yang Duojie leaned back: “Oh, is that all? So you’ve just noticed?”

Li Yunxi: “?”

Yang Duojie let out a light snort: “I’ve long seen that Er Lan has a preference for men. I thought you knew it too, otherwise, why did you dislike him at first? But after spending time with him, he’s not bad…”

Li Yunxi was petrified.

Yang Duojie waved his hand in front of his eyes: “Why aren’t you saying ‘how improper’ anymore?”

A thousand miles away, heavy snow blanketed everything.

Lin Xuanying stood on high ground by the riverbank, looking down at soldiers breaking river ice to fetch water.

“Deputy General,” his subordinate hurried over, presenting a secret letter.

Lin Xuanying opened it and scanned it briefly: “Prince Duan will make his move tomorrow. When chaos erupts across the empire, we won’t need to hide our movements anymore. The other two armies set out earlier, they might be close already.”

“Then we…”

Lin Xuanying looked up at the distant city lights flickering through the wind and snow: “Get ready, we’ll charge straight in.”

In the palace.

After eating and drinking their fill of dumplings, Xie Yong’er excused herself to return to her room and pack her belongings.

Before leaving, she called Yu Wanyin to the door and took a letter from her bosom: “After I leave tomorrow, could you deliver this to Xiao Tiancai?”

“Sure. It’s not a rejection letter, is it?”

Xie Yong’er: “…”

Xie Yong’er’s ability to leave as she wished was obtained through Xiao Tiancai’s professional skills. Xiao Tiancai, the romantic, had originally wanted to keep this secret from her, but she wasn’t a fool and had figured it out with a little deduction.

Yu Wanyin: “Is it a rejection letter? Is the tone gentle? Don’t make him so hurt that he stops working.”

Xie Yong’er laughed helplessly: “Don’t worry about that.”

She watched as Yu Wanyin tucked the envelope close to her body, seemingly feeling somewhat emotional: “I never thought that in the end, the person I’d entrust this to would be you.”

Life is like a play, with the plot running wild like an untamed horse until now. Though they had matched wits and competed, they still couldn’t say they fully trusted each other. But Yu Wanyin wasn’t surprised by Xie Yong’er’s action.

Perhaps they could both chat pleasantly with other beauties in the palace, but their backgrounds and circumstances were too different; some thoughts could never be conveyed in words. Sometimes, Yu Wanyin strangely felt that even Xiahou Dan didn’t understand her thoughts.

But those anxieties, those grand ambitions, even those complicated romantic feelings – Xie Yong’er understood without a word. In this special realm, they were each other’s only mirrors.

Having someone in the world who understood oneself so well was a threat, but also a comfort.

Yu Wanyin patted her shoulder: “What do you plan to do after leaving the city?”

“First, I’ll travel around for a while, see this world thoroughly, and then…”

“Live in seclusion?”

Xie Yong’er smiled: “How could that be? Once you’ve stabilized the empire, I want to secure some royal investment to create a business empire.”

Yu Wanyin was impressed. As expected of the chosen one, growing stronger with each setback.

“Do you have a specific business direction?”

“I’ll start by developing a food delivery service, city by city.”

Yu Wanyin’s eyes lit up: “Excellent, I’m investing.”

Xie Yong’er: “Express delivery could also be started. Oh wait, that would require improving transportation first… Would you invest if I made automobiles?”

Yu Wanyin said with a smile: “Why not go all the way and make hyperloop transit?”

“Huh? What’s that?”

Yu Wanyin froze slightly.

What year was “Demon’s Favored Consort” written? She’d forgotten to check the publication date.

Could this be an older novel? When this novel was written, did the concept of hyperloop transit exist?

Her pause was too abrupt, and Xie Yong’er looked over with surprise. Yu Wanyin panicked for two seconds, making up a cover: “Nothing, just something I saw in science fiction, I can’t explain it clearly.”

“You’re suggesting I create something from science fiction?”

“I was just joking…”

But Xie Yong’er continued to stare at her, with a light of understanding slowly brightening in her eyes: “By the way, you said before, where were you from in your original world?”

Yu Wanyin: “…” Why did she have such a loose tongue?

“North… a small county, you’ve never heard of it.”

She was inwardly distraught. With their separation imminent, if Xie Yong’er were to dig deeper and fall into an existential crisis, it would be entirely her fault.

Unexpectedly, though, Xie Yong’er suddenly blinked, and that spark of light instantly extinguished: “Alright.”

For a moment, Yu Wanyin felt a strange sense of familiarity.

The subtle changes in Xie Yong’er’s expression just now were extremely nuanced – from hesitation to suppression, to acceptance – all happening within seconds. But somehow, Yu Wanyin understood.

It was as if Xie Yong’er stood before an invisible massive door, had reached out for a long time, but ultimately turned away at this moment.

One step further was a bottomless abyss; one step back was life like a dream. Xie Yong’er seemed somewhat dazed as she smiled and said: “When I start my food delivery business, remember to teach me some special dishes from your hometown.”

Yu Wanyin came back to her senses: “Alright.”

Just now, why had she felt that sense of familiarity?

Xie Yong’er went back. Yu Wanyin still stood outside the door, raising her head to exhale a breath of white mist.

In the night sky, the solitary moon was temporarily obscured, revealing clusters of stars. Yu Wanyin had only glanced up casually but suddenly froze in place.

A moment later, footsteps came from behind as Xiahou Dan walked to her side: “Aren’t you cold, staying out here so long?”

“I finally see it.” Yu Wanyin excitedly pointed up, “Those stars, aren’t they almost in a straight line?”

In the summer, Abai had also taken Xiahou Dan to look at the sky, saying something about things almost forming a line.

Yu Wanyin: “I later researched Master Abai’s prophecy. The ‘alignment of five stars’ refers to this celestial phenomenon. Ancient texts say it’s an omen of assassination attempts against the ruler.”

Xiahou Dan: “That’s quite accurate.”

Yu Wanyin shook her head vigorously: “No, look more carefully. The tail has started to bend; it’s no longer a straight line. What does this mean? It means this calamity has passed! After defeating Tu’er, you’ve successfully changed your fate!”

She said excitedly: “The worst is over, and good fortune is coming. Tomorrow will be fine.”

Xiahou Dan laughed: “A modern person now believes in celestial omens?”

“If you believe it, it exists; if you don’t, it doesn’t. Anyway, I believe it. Tomorrow, let me go with you.” Yu Wanyin suddenly circled back to her request.

Xiahou Dan sighed almost inaudibly: “Wanyin.”

“I know, you’ve said everything there is to say. But… you’ve been strange these past few days. Saying your morale is low is putting it mildly. You seem to be preparing for the worst!”

The rest of Xiahou Dan’s words were pushed back down.

Was he that obvious?

Yu Wanyin saw his expression change and her heart tightened further: “I’m just seeking peace of mind too. You go into danger, yet ask me to just watch. Think about how I feel…”

“So you’ll only feel at ease if we face danger together?”

Yu Wanyin steeled her heart: “Yes.”

“And what about being Empress? You’re giving that up?”

“If we can’t eliminate Prince Duan, this Empress position is just for show. I don’t want to play a role my entire life.”

Xiahou Dan froze.

After a long while, he asked softly: “So you’re saying you’d rather die with me?”

Yu Wanyin took a breath. His question was serious.

She didn’t understand why he was so pessimistic, but somehow knew this answer was important to him.

So she thought carefully for a moment: “When I transmigrated here, it was like I’d already died once. I thought I’d go to heaven after death, but instead, I came to this hellish game level. There were several times when I was exhausted in body and mind and didn’t want to play anymore, but because we were teaming up together, without realizing it, I’ve persisted until now.”

Xiahou Dan quietly turned his head, watching her intently.

Yu Wanyin: “We’ve done so much—preventing drought, defeating the Empress Dowager, allying with Yan State… Even if it ends here, I have to praise myself for a job well done. Of course, there are still many unsolved problems and many things I want to do. I’m also very interested in the business empire Xie Yong’er mentioned… but this path is too exhausting, too exhausting.”

Her throat tightened, and she realized she was choking up.

She reached out to hold his hand: “You promised that whether in life or death, you wouldn’t let me be alone. Do you want to break that promise?”

Xiahou Dan smiled: “Alright.” He pulled her into his embrace, “Then we’ll go together.”

How wonderful, this must be what the books call “in life and death, we made a pact together.” How pitiful that this deep ocean of feelings was mistakenly given to a thick, false mask.

But if only tonight remained…

Xiahou Dan lowered his head and kissed her. After the snow, the palace was completely silent. This kiss had only the starry sky as witness, quiet and tender.

He reached out, leading her toward the warm interior.

Just wear this false mask until dawn, he thought basely.

The lights flickered as bodies intertwined. Yu Wanyin allowed herself to sink into the moment. Just before her thoughts went blank, a sudden flash of insight gave her the answer.

She had understood Xie Yong’er as if looking in a mirror earlier because she too had a door before her that she dared not push open.

To avoid thinking further, she tightly clung to Xiahou Dan’s neck, and together they plunged into the torrent of pleasure.

At Prince Duan’s residence.

Xiahou Bo knelt on the ground, finished burning a stack of paper money for his deceased mother, then stood up calmly and said: “Go to your positions.”

His trusted men dispersed upon hearing this, leaving only one figure still kneeling on the ground.

Xiahou Bo looked down at him: “I’ve said before, to avoid being foreseen by their celestial eye, I would add a small plan at the last moment. Now is the time.”

The assassin: “Please give your orders, Your Highness.”

Xiahou Bo handed him a sachet and several letters: “I’ll speak, you record.”

In the frozen silence that enveloped the city, a solitary watchman’s call rang out.

The new year had arrived.

The next day, as the sun rose high and the auspicious hour arrived, the Emperor, dressed in mourning clothes, performed the sacrificial rites, listened to the ministers read the eulogy, and then led the civil and military officials in escorting the Empress Dowager’s triple coffin, moving grandly toward the outskirts of the city.

Xiahou Bo rode his horse in the procession, raising his eyes slightly to look ahead.

Today, there were noticeably more guards accompanying the imperial carriage than usual, clustered around the dragon palanquin, forcibly creating a distance between the Emperor and his ministers. Behind the officials were several hundred imperial guards bringing up the rear.

It seemed the Emperor had made preparations. However, the brilliance of their plan was that unless the Emperor could predict the future, any number of guards would be useless.

—Unless he could predict the future.

Approaching the foot of the mountain, An Xian walked to the dragon palanquin and bowed: “Please, Your Majesty, accompany the coffin up the mountain.” According to custom, the Emperor needed to walk on foot for this final stretch, supporting the coffin to demonstrate his filial piety.

The funeral music swelled, and Xiahou Dan descended from the dragon palanquin, walked to the carriage carrying the coffin, and continued forward on foot alongside it. Ahead was a section where the mountain had collapsed, forming a cliff about ten zhang high. Beyond that, the mountain was covered in snow, silent and still. Opposite the cliff was a dense, dark forest.

Xiahou Dan walked solemnly, his eyes straight ahead, step by step approaching the cliff area.

Fifteen steps remained—

Xiahou Bo quietly reined in his horse, confusing the procession behind him.

Ten steps—

Several screams came from the mountain, followed by a sharp shout: “Assassins!!”

The officials erupted in chaos, instinctively retreating while looking up, trying to see what was happening.

In the procession, Xiahou Bo watched as the Emperor calmly stopped and turned around.

As their gazes met, the Emperor’s lips curved into an almost imperceptible smile.

The sound of metal against metal rang out from above the cliff, though no figures could be seen. Only the trees shook as large chunks of snow and rock fell. Then came shouts of alarm, with someone screaming: “Your Majesty, take cover!”

Dark, massive objects fell from above.

The crowd hurriedly retreated again, tripping over each other, and falling in disarray.

The object fell straight down with a tremendous crash, creating a deep pit before their eyes. Only then did they see clearly that the rock was as tall as a person. Falling from such a height could have crushed someone to a pulp.

The boulder landed just ten steps away from Xiahou Dan.

If he had walked just a little further forward, today’s funeral would have had another protagonist.

The guards swarmed in, protecting the Emperor as he retreated. Xiahou Dan, seemingly terrified, hurriedly ran back a distance before angrily shouting: “Who dares attempt assassination? Capture them immediately!”

Above the cliff, dozens of figures appeared. Leading them was the new commander of the imperial guards, Grand Marshal Gao: “Your Majesty, please forgive the alarm. We have eliminated the assassins and captured their leader alive. We are coming down now.”

As his voice fell, figures began to move in the silent, snow-covered forest.

Xiahou Bo strained his eyes to look. A dark mass of imperial guards was converging toward the mountain. Further away on the official road, the sound of troops marching could also be heard.

The imperial guards near Mount Bei today were far more than just the few hundred behind the procession. The other massive boulders prepared on the cliff remained unmoved, indicating that the ambush near the boulders had been eliminated.

Predicting the future? This skill seemed to be in surplus in Xiahou Dan’s camp.

Xiahou Bo knew the Emperor was watching him. He also knew the entire script that would unfold after the imperial guards surrounded this place.

His expression remained unchanged as he kindly helped up several officials who had fallen.

Xiahou Dan’s smile faded slightly.

Grand Marshal Gao soon brought down the prisoner. Xiahou Dan’s guards came forward with routine interrogation, followed by searching the body with punches and kicks, before loudly declaring: “Your subordinate has found Prince Duan’s token on this assassin.”

The entire gathering fell silent enough to hear a pin drop.

All civil and military officials turned to look at Xiahou Bo.

The assassin shouldn’t be foolish enough to carry Prince Duan’s token. But whether he had it or not was irrelevant—Xiahou Dan needed the guard to find a token, so the guard found a token, that’s all.

No one present was a fool. Seeing this situation, who wouldn’t understand: these royal brothers were about to have their showdown, right now, right before their eyes.

“Prince Duan!” a thunderous shout came from Li Yunxi, who passionately beat the war drum, “You dare—!”

But then they saw Xiahou Bo stare with disbelief, angrily saying to the guard: “You—you’re talking nonsense!”

Li Yunxi: “…”

What act was this old fox putting on?

Xiahou Bo fell to his knees with a “thud”: “Someone must be framing me! I beg Your Majesty to investigate clearly and restore my innocence!”

Xiahou Dan played his part, looking conflicted as he glanced at the guards, then at the assassin, speaking hoarsely like a victim: “Mother’s coffin was almost shattered. We must thoroughly investigate who instructed these assassins. My royal brother has also been frightened; perhaps he should return to the city to rest. Come, escort the Prince back to his residence.”

At his command, the surrounding imperial guards immediately surged toward Prince Duan.

Xiahou Bo was quite cooperative, elegantly bowing before turning to voluntarily meet the imperial guards, his fingers at his side lifting slightly.

At that moment, someone in the crowd suddenly exclaimed: “Your Majesty, I recognize this assassin. He is a servant from Secretary Yu’s household!”

The official who spoke was from Prince Duan’s faction. After speaking, he loudly asked: “Secretary Yu, seeing your servant, why don’t you acknowledge him?”

The crowd erupted.

After Prince Duan, Secretary Yu now experienced being the center of attention. He was far less composed than Xiahou Bo; his legs immediately weakened: “Non—nonsense, I’ve never seen this person before.”

Li Yunxi: “How could he possibly be Secretary Yu’s man? Everyone knows Secretary Yu is renowned for his virtue and integrity, prudent and clear—”

“How strange,” a clear voice joined in, “Secretary Yu has just become the Emperor’s father-in-law. Instead of enjoying his glory and wealth, he conspires with Prince Duan to assassinate the Emperor. Has he gone mad?”

Li Yunxi choked momentarily.

The one who had spoken was Er Lan. Her sarcastic remark was worth ten of his statements, while also firmly establishing Prince Duan’s crime.

Li Yunxi: “Th-that’s right.”

Seeing this, Prince Duan’s faction became agitated. Another person stepped forward: “Your Majesty, when this old minister last visited Brother Yu’s residence to congratulate him on his birthday, I indeed saw this servant. Brother Yu, how did your servant obtain Prince Duan’s token? There must be some mystery here.”

Secretary Yu was already terrified, stumbling to his knees: “This, this, this…”

The Emperor’s supporters present, seeing his guilty demeanor, felt a chill.

Those few from Prince Duan’s faction might not truly remember the face of a mere servant, but their willingness to speak at this crucial moment indicated they already knew this assassin was indeed connected to Yu’s household. They only needed to investigate thoroughly to pin this blame on Secretary Yu.

Had the new Imperial Father-in-law truly gone mad?

The moment Secretary Yu saw the assassin’s face, he felt as if he had fallen into an icy pit.

The servant was indeed his, but he had no idea when this man had become Prince Duan’s assassin.

However, how could he say this? If he did, who would listen to the second half of his statement?

In today’s situation, the least important thing is the truth. Secretary Yu’s foundation in court was extremely shallow, caught between different factions. Now that his daughter had risen to become Empress, there were more people jealous of him than currying favor. Judging by the current trend, these people had planned to push him out as a scapegoat!

“Prince Duan, oh Prince Duan, for how long have you been plotting against him?”

More and more of Prince Duan’s faction chimed in. Secretary Yu was sweating profusely as he knocked his head on the ground in despair: “Your Majesty, this old minister has been wronged! This man… this man is a spy sent by Prince Duan!”

“Hahaha!” The assassin leader with blood at the corner of his mouth suddenly laughed. “I’m just curious, why do you all think I’m acting on someone’s orders? Secretary Yu, between the two of us, who is directing whom? Can you explain that clearly?”

Secretary Yu nearly fainted: “What nonsense are you talking about? I never—”

Xiahou Bo gave an inward cold laugh. Pushed onto the stage yet wanting to escape? That depended on whether the master would allow it.

The servant cackled strangely and pulled out a bloodstained sachet from his bosom: “When you searched me earlier, how did you miss this?”

The secret guards: “…”

They would only find what they needed to find.

The sachet was crudely crafted, with a bright red background and black embroidery of a man and woman riding an eagle with spread wings.

Xiahou Dan’s pupils contracted slightly as he instinctively looked to his side. Among his guards stood a somewhat small figure.

Xiahou Bo caught his glance and narrowed his eyes slightly.

The servant: “Who embroidered this sachet? Surely His Majesty the Emperor can tell?” He laughed triumphantly. “I’m going to die today no matter what, so before dying I want to speak freely, lest you suppress this as some secret palace history!”

The previous night.

Xiahou Bo handed a sachet and several letters to him: “I’ll speak, you record.”

The assassin took them and saw the letters were in a woman’s handwriting, not particularly elegant, containing ambiguous love words—the ones Yu Wanyin had used to deceive Prince Duan in the Cold Palace.

Xiahou Bo: “Keep the sachet with you, hide the letters in Yu’s residence for them to find during a search. Everyone now suspects that Empress Yu is pregnant and the Emperor deposed the Crown Prince to make way for her child. But after your capture, you must publicly confess that the child in her womb is yours.

“She was making eyes at you before entering the palace, and kept finding you after entering, secretly conceiving your child. Unexpectedly, Secretary Yu discovered this, so you pulled him into your scheme. Since paper cannot wrap fire, you decide to take advantage of Prince Duan’s conflict with the Emperor to kill the tyrant once and for all. Secretary Yu lent you some men, and you ambushed at Mount Bei, planning to frame Prince Duan if you failed.

“Unexpectedly, you were recognized, the conspiracy exposed, and facing certain death, you wanted to mock the tyrant one last time.”

The assassin recorded everything, but asked in confusion: “Your Highness, will the Emperor believe this story?”

Xiahou Bo: “Whether he believes it or not is unimportant. What matters is that all the civil and military officials present will hear it.”

This way, Yu Wanyin would never wash away the name of an enchantress, and if Xiahou Dan boldly protected her, he would become a foolish ruler blinded by lust.

The assassin: “What if the Emperor made no preparations at all, and we succeed with one strike, sending him straight to the Western Paradise?”

Xiahou Bo: “Then you won’t confess. Let the child in Empress Yu’s womb become Xiahou Dan’s posthumous child.”

“…Empress Yu isn’t really pregnant,” the assassin reminded him.

Xiahou Bo smiled.

The assassin then understood: It didn’t matter. After Xiahou Bo took power, she would naturally become pregnant. In the future, the child would be a young emperor, and Xiahou Bo would be the regent.

Everything they planned sought only four words: legitimate authority.

Prince Duan wanted more than just power. He also wanted the people’s praise, his virtue to spread in all directions, and his achievements to cover the world. He wanted unity between rulers and ministers, diligent governance, and the creation of a golden age.

So he absolutely could not take the throne bearing the name of a regicide.

He wanted to be a sage ruler, and a sage ruler was always worth many people’s sacrifice.

The assassin quickly rehearsed his lines in his mind and calmly began: “Yu—”

He only managed that one word.

A loud bang, and the last image in his eyes was the Emperor raising a strange object at him, its dark hole emitting blue smoke.

The assassin fell to the ground, convulsed several times, spat blood, and became completely still.

Xiahou Dan had shot him with one bullet and turned to aim at Prince Duan.

Who didn’t need legitimate authority? They had endured until today precisely to have just cause to deal with Prince Duan. But all this had one major premise: events had to develop according to their script.

Obviously, more than one person held the script today.

As soon as Xiahou Dan turned, his heart sank.

In the span of a few breaths, he could no longer aim at Xiahou Bo.

Xiahou Bo had disappeared behind a wall of imperial guards. The distance was just right—separated by countless ministers and soldiers, just beyond his shooting range. It was almost as if… he knew in advance what weapon was in his hand.

And those guards who had just been surrounding Prince Duan had somehow already positioned themselves to protect him.

The newly appointed Grand Marshal Gao’s expression changed as he shouted commands to no avail, then exclaimed in frustration: “Are you trying to rebel?!”

No one answered him. Invisibly, the thousands of imperial guards present divided into two groups, each gathering and facing off against the other.

Between the two camps were the trembling, unarmed officials.

Bei Zhou’s ears twitched as he said softly: “Not just these men. There are ambushers in the forest, probably his private army, or border troops that have already arrived. Danr, he never expected to kill you with a few stones. His backup plans are more numerous than I anticipated.”

At this point, Xiahou Bo was still diligently shouting: “Your Majesty! The assassin said ‘Yu’ before dying. Why did Your Majesty rush to kill him? Whose hand embroidered that sachet? Is Your Majesty not going to investigate?”

The ministers had long shrunk like quails, not daring to make a sound. In the crowd, Li Yunxi stiffened his neck to retort, but Yang Duojie covered his mouth. Yang Duojie whispered urgently in his ear: “Don’t speak. The war of words is over.”

With the arrow already on the string, a fierce battle was unavoidable.

Xiahou Bo: “For a woman, Your Majesty would act against your brother without distinguishing right from wrong? What methods does Empress Yu use to bewitch minds? She previously offended the Empress Dowager yet escaped unscathed, while the Empress Dowager suddenly died…” He suddenly looked at the small guard, “Empress Yu, have you nothing to say?”

The small guard’s body trembled.

Xiahou Dan looked straight ahead: “Silence him.”

Grand Marshal Gao roared angrily, making his judgment: “Arrest the rebels!”

At the same time, Xiahou Bo shouted his slogan: “Eliminate the evil woman, purge the court!”

Both sides charged at each other with drawn weapons, making the ground shake.

The officials trapped in the middle were suddenly caught in a pincer attack, with the cliff wall on one side, leaving only one exit—the dark forest.

Li Yunxi and others were pushed by the crowd toward the forest, but after running in a few steps, they were forced back out.

The ambushers in the forest had mobilized.

These men had been hiding among the trees, their presence almost imperceptible; only a supreme master like Bei Zhou could detect them. Now they emerged in vast numbers, with no end in sight.

At a command from their leader, the soldiers drew their swords in unison. Even before they arrived, their fierce killing intent pressed down like dark clouds, a stark contrast to the disorganized imperial guards.

Li Yunxi cursed: “Border troops…”

Such an imposing manner could only come from battle-hardened veterans.

How could so many border troops appear here? Whether from the northern or southern borders, if they had marched all this way, the capital should have received some warning.

The only possibility was that when General Luo of the central army or General You of the right army had returned to report, they had left behind men. These troops had been hiding nearby since then, just waiting for Prince Duan’s call.

This development was not in Xiahou Dan’s prediction. The imperial guards at the front were caught off guard, and upon facing these grim reapers, their defense line was instantly broken, immediately falling into retreat.

The officials wailed in terror, fleeing in all directions.

Although both sides cared about their reputation and intentionally avoided the ministers, weapons had no eyes, still frightening them into a scrambling retreat.

Li Yunxi, one of the more physically robust among the civil officials, continued pulling up fallen ministers as he ran. Killing sounds thundered all around, with several explosions from the Emperor’s direction. He didn’t know what they were, only that they sounded most ominous.

Suddenly, a horse neighed. A frightened horse broke from its path and charged straight at them. Li Yunxi, quick-eyed and quick-handed, pushed away a limping elderly minister, then rolled on the ground himself, narrowly avoiding the hooves.

“Brother Li!” Yang Duojie bent down to help him up. “Are you alright?”

Li Yunxi choked on dust: “Don’t worry about me, all of you hide where there’s no one—where’s Brother Er?”

“I don’t see him!”

Li Yunxi anxiously looked up, searching for Er Lan in the crowd. As his gaze swept across a certain direction, his pupils contracted.

Yang Duojie: “Brother Li? Brother Li, where are you going!”

Li Yunxi broke into a run, dashing through the thicket of swords.

In the distance, on a forgotten mountain path, a frail figure was desperately climbing upward. As he watched, the figure ducked behind a tree.

What was Er Lan trying to do by getting to the cliff? Li Yunxi recalled the massive falling rock, looked at the directions in which both armies were advancing and retreating, and immediately knew the answer.

But if they could think of this, surely others could too!

The imperial guards, suddenly facing a strong enemy, lost morale. Already a group of fence-sitters, with their fighting spirit gone, their formation began to collapse.

Xiahou Bo didn’t mount his horse, calmly hiding behind the human wall, watching from afar as strange explosions continued from the Emperor’s direction.

But it wasn’t the Emperor firing.

After the battle began, the weapon in the Emperor’s hand had disappeared.

Perhaps to divert attention, the small guard hadn’t hidden behind the Emperor but had charged into battle alongside the other guards. But “he” was unstable, with a shaky gait, obviously not a trained fighter.

After a brief skirmish, “he” quickly became overwhelmed and had to pull out that strange weapon for self-preservation.

Seeing this, Xiahou Bo pointed from a distance: “Go capture that guard.”

At this moment, the guard was firing with perfect accuracy, with a pile of bodies under the gun barrel, keeping the rest at bay.

—If Xiahou Bo hadn’t investigated the bullet holes in the Mount Bei pavilion, and hadn’t sent assassins to observe the shape of Yu Wanyin’s weapon, he might truly have been at a loss now.

Xiahou Bo raised his arm, and six or seven assassins surrounded the guard, using themselves as bait, charging straight at the gun barrel.

The guard indeed became flustered, firing hastily, having just killed two men when suddenly a large net descended from above, completely enveloping “him.”

The guard struggled violently, but the assassins rushed over to grab the net ropes, pulling together forcefully. The net suddenly tightened, firmly binding the guard’s limbs, preventing any movement.

The guard fell to the ground, writhing in vain, and only stopped moving when an assassin held a blade to their neck.

After confirming “he” could no longer raise an arm, Xiahou Bo ordered: “Take her weapon, tear off her human skin mask, hang her on a tree for everyone to see clearly.”

Then uses her as a hostage to make the Emperor sound the retreat and docilely return to the palace to be placed under guard.

The Emperor couldn’t die today, couldn’t die here. He must be bewitched by the evil consort Yu Wanyin and die mad in the palace.

Li Yunxi panted: “Stop!”

Er Lan: “Don’t worry about me.”

“There must be people up there. You’ll only be sending yourself to death.” Li Yunxi pursued her, gritting his teeth, but always a few steps behind, only able to stretch out his arm trying to grab her. “I’ll go, I’ll go instead, alright?”

Er Lan laughed: “What are you saying? Doesn’t Brother Li want to be a meritorious minister anymore?”

“I entered the court to die in glory! Don’t steal—my—opportunity!” Li Yunxi lunged forward and finally caught Er Lan’s wrist, pulling hard and throwing her behind him. “Look at those thin arms of yours. At least I’m thick and strong—”

“I am a woman.”

“—I can push that stone…” Li Yunxi’s voice abruptly stopped.

Taking advantage of his thunderstruck pause, Er Lan passed him again: “Go back, Brother Li. My presence at court was never proper anyway.”

The scene on the cliff was extremely brutal.

Prince Duan’s rebel forces pressed forward relentlessly, quickly forcing Xiahou Dan’s imperial guards back to the base of the cliff. If the stones were to fall now, even if they didn’t kill the Emperor, they would crush many imperial guards.

Prince Duan’s assassins naturally thought of this too, rushing up at the start of the battle to seize the huge rocks.

Xiahou Dan’s secret guards stayed to defend, trying to stop them with arrows from halfway up the mountain. The enemy immediately retaliated in kind with a swarm of arrows.

By this point in the battle, corpses lay everywhere around the boulders, with only three or four surviving secret guards, all severely wounded, barely holding on behind the cover of the rocks.

Er Lan was hit by an arrow as soon as she showed herself, the intense pain in her shoulder nearly making her cry out.

She immediately flattened herself on the ground, biting her teeth hard, tearing armor from a nearby corpse, putting it on her back, and slowly crawling toward the boulders.

The secret guards suddenly saw an unarmed civil official running up alone, and asked in surprise: “Who are you?”

Er Lan: “Look down, how far have Prince Duan’s men advanced?”

The secret guard was stunned.

Er Lan: “If I were His Majesty, I would deliberately retreat quickly to lure them under the rocks.”

A guard with an arrow in his back and a face as white as paper risked looking over the edge: “It’s true! Prince Duan’s men are all below now. No wonder they’re so anxious…”

He fired two more arrows at the attackers but was too weak from his injuries, and the arrows fell midway.

The guard spoke despairingly: “They’re coming up.”

He looked at his comrades still struggling, took a deep breath, and turned to push against the boulder.

Er Lan crawled to his side and joined in the effort: “One, two—”

Below the mountain, several assassins approached, one trying to pry open the guard’s gun-holding fingers, another going to tear off the human skin mask.

The mask was torn at one corner, revealing the eyebrows and eyes beneath.

The assassin’s movements suddenly paused as he opened his mouth to shout, but the person in the net suddenly burst upward. With a muffled cracking of bones, his form expanded violently, instantly tearing apart the net that bound him!

Quick as lightning, within moments, all the assassins fell as the true identity of the man was revealed. He soared into the air like a great eagle, flying to an incredible height, and raised his gun toward Prince Duan behind the human wall.

His flanks were completely exposed, and countless projectiles shot at him from the ground, but he didn’t even try to block them, simply pulling the trigger—

“Bang!”

Xiahou Bo had no choice but to dodge.

He moved quickly, but the gun was faster, seemingly predicting his direction, with two consecutive shots “bang bang” almost without pause!

Just as Xiahou Bo’s feet touched the ground, he felt something fly off.

Half his face suddenly felt wet with his flowing blood.

What had flown off was his ear.

Er Lan and the secret guards were all injured, each using their last strength, yet only managing to move the boulder a few inches.

She threw herself forward with a shout, using her body to crash into the boulder.

The boulder moved.

Er Lan felt a surge of joy, then realized another person had joined her.

Li Yunxi: “Together.”

Er Lan: “You’ll die!”

Li Yunxi looked at her, his eyes burning with unprecedented passion, and repeated: “Together.”

In this critical moment, there was no time for hesitation. Er Lan called out again: “One, two—”

A fourth person crashed into the boulder.

Yang Duojie: “Together.”

Li Yunxi: “…”

Bei Zhou, in mid-air with no escape, was hit by several projectiles. As his body began to fall, in a flash, he fired two more shots.

Xiahou Bo fled like a dog.

This time he truly ran for his life, charging forward some distance, when suddenly his heart skipped a beat. Instinctively, he looked up—

“Boom!”

A tremendous sound made all the fighting soldiers pause for a moment.

Only the upper half of Xiahou Bo’s body remained exposed outside the boulder. He tried desperately to crawl out, but his legs were firmly pinned. In his desperation, all ten fingers dug into the mud.

Bei Zhou hit the ground, staggered, and raised his gun again.

No ammunition left.

A fierce shout came from the crowd: “Continue the attack! Capture the Emperor!”

The voice belonged to the leader of the border troops’ ambushers. With Prince Duan down, they should have been headless, but this leader commanded great authority. Without hesitation, he took command: “Left wing, save Prince Duan! Your squads, go after Empress Yu!”

The rebels knew there was no turning back, today was either victory or death. They rushed at Xiahou Dan with even more desperation. Another group galloped in the opposite direction, heading for another city gate to find Yu Wanyin.

Bei Zhou, half-bathed in blood, fought his way back to Xiahou Dan’s side, saying only one word: “Retreat.”

Without waiting for a response, he picked up Xiahou Dan and ran.

Xiahou Dan was caught off guard and struggled: “Uncle, wait, I can’t just—”

“I don’t care!” Bei Zhou said firmly. “We can’t hold here anymore. Do you want to live? Let’s go, you’re not Emperor anymore.”

While Er Lan and the others raced up the mountain, Yu Wanyin suddenly awoke.

She immediately realized she was in a jolting carriage, and Xiahou Dan was not beside her.

Last night, Xiahou Dan had agreed to go with her to Mount Bei, then they had become intimate. She had no memory of how she had fallen asleep afterward.

“Xiahou Dan…” Yu Wanyin gritted her teeth, lifting the carriage curtain to look outside. The carriage had left the city, but they weren’t on the official road, rather a small path through the forest. A squad of secret guards escorted them.

Yu Wanyin: “Stop the carriage!”

No one responded.

Yu Wanyin: “Stop quickly, where is His Majesty?”

A secret guard spoke up: “We have our orders to protect Your Ladyship at all costs, and not to turn back no matter what happens.”

“Don’t waste your effort,” someone across from her said coolly.

Xie Yong’er sat opposite her, looking at her helplessly: “You’ve been out of the city for half an hour before waking up. It seems Xiao Tiancai’s sleeping drug was quite effective.”

Yu Wanyin: “Xiahou Dan put me in here? And you knew about it?”

Xie Yong’er raised her hands: “I didn’t know anything. I was about to leave this morning when he suddenly put you in here. He deliberately kept it secret until the last moment, probably to ensure no one leaked the information. Don’t be angry, he’s only doing this for you.”

Yu Wanyin felt for her gun in her bosom.

She had a terrible feeling: “What’s happening at Mount Bei?”

“There’s no way to know now. We’ll have to wait until we escape to another city, disguise ourselves, settle down, and then find someone to inquire.” Xie Yong’er sounded in good spirits. “Where do you think we’ll go first?”

Yu Wanyin: “…”

“I’m sorry, I just breathed in the air of freedom, I’m a bit oxygen drunk—”

Xie Yong’er’s voice abruptly stopped.

The next second, Yu Wanyin felt the world spinning as she was lifted from her seat, with the sound of horses’ painful neighs in her ears.

“Tripwire!” a secret guard shouted.

Yu Wanyin fell heavily to the ground, her vision darkening.

The sound of arrows cutting through the air.

The sound of fighting.

The sound of secret guards falling.

Yu Wanyin sat up, rubbing her forehead, finding herself on what had been the carriage wall. The entire carriage had overturned. Xie Yong’er was half-lying beside her, tightly clutching her arm, her face twisted in pain.

Yu Wanyin whispered: “How are you?”

“I think it’s broken…”

An arrow shot through the window, grazing Yu Wanyin’s ear before embedding itself in the carriage seat.

“Empress Yu, would you kindly crawl out yourself?” someone called sarcastically from a distance.

Xie Yong’er suddenly raised her head: “That’s Mu Yun’s voice.”

Mu Yun stood far away, watching his men fight the secret guards: “Prince Duan wants you, alive preferably, but dead will do.”

Inside the carriage, Yu Wanyin reached into her bosom again but found nothing.

Mu Yun: “Come out on your own, don’t make me set fire to the carriage. If you’re burned beyond recognition, I’ll have trouble explaining to Prince Duan.”

The firelight approached. Mu Yun wasn’t joking.

Yu Wanyin frantically searched around, but the more anxious she became, the harder it was to find the gun.

A hand patted her shoulder: “Don’t panic, search slowly.”

Xie Yong’er raised her voice: “What a pity, you’ve ambushed the wrong person.”

Yu Wanyin looked up in surprise as Xie Yong’er was already crawling toward the window. She reached out to pull her back but missed.

Xie Yong’er: “Surprise, it’s me in the carriage.”

As soon as she crawled out of the carriage, she was captured and dragged before Mu Yun.

Mu Yun was taken aback for a moment, then laughed instead of getting angry: “Well, who do we have here? If it isn’t Consort Xie.”

Xie Yong’er’s hands were twisted behind her back, pulling at her broken bone, making her break out in a cold sweat as she spoke haltingly: “You’ve… already been dismissed… you might as well… join me in rebelling… Prince Duan… isn’t a good master either.”

Mu Yun said sinisterly: “Indeed, I’m only lying in wait here as a last desperate gamble, betting the Emperor would send away Empress Yu, and further betting they would choose a secluded path. I prided myself on understanding people’s hearts, thinking I should be Prince Duan’s right-hand man in the future. Yet now I must scheme desperately just to earn a trace of his favor. Tell me, who is to blame for this?”

Xie Yong’er tried her best to adjust her tone, soothing: “You don’t understand…”

“Of course, it’s your fault!” Mu Yun’s eyes flashed with malice.

The person behind Xie Yong’er suddenly applied force, pushing her to her knees. Xie Yong’er cried out in pain, followed by several slaps across her face.

After Mu Yun finished slapping her, he admired her expression of suppressed anger for a moment, then suddenly laughed: “Did you think this little trick would protect the person in the carriage?”

“What are… you talking about?”

“Don’t worry, neither of you will be left behind.” Mu Yun drew his dagger, casually saying as he stabbed down, “Burn the carriage.”

Those were the last words he would ever speak.

A series of explosions followed.

He paused his action, looking up in alarm, only to see his men falling one after another, from far to near.

In his mind echoed the words he had heard before being dismissed: “There were several bowl-sized holes left in the pleasure pavilion, made by some unknown weapon…”

Then he could think no further. Because those holes appeared in his head.

With their leader dead, the rest scattered like monkeys from a fallen tree pursued and dispatched by the few surviving secret guards.

Yu Wanyin rushed to Xie Yong’er.

Mu Yun had been efficient; before falling, he had already stabbed her several times.

“It’s fine, it’s fine, we just need to stop the bleeding.” Yu Wanyin’s hands trembled as she futilely tried to cover the bleeding wounds, her voice distorted. “Where is Xiao Tiancai?!”

Xie Yong’er smiled: “Don’t you remember? He stayed in the palace, in exchange for my freedom.”

“We’ll go back, we’ll go back to find him, just hold on a little longer…”

“Listen to me.” Xie Yong’er grabbed her hand. “Don’t tell Xiao Tiancai. If he knows I’m dead, he might stop working.”

Yu Wanyin’s eyes reddened with urgency: “Shut up!”

As Bei Zhou fled carrying Xiahou Dan, the imperial guards lost all will to fight, collapsing like a landslide.

How could Prince Duan’s faction let him escape? At this point, they no longer cared about keeping him alive. Projectiles and arrows fell like rain, yet never touched even the hem of their clothes.

However, Bei Zhou was bleeding all over, and after running for a while, his steps gradually slowed.

Xiahou Dan saw he couldn’t hold on much longer and said: “Uncle Bei, put me down and save yourself.”

Bei Zhou gave a short, derisive laugh as if he’d heard an enormous joke: “Even if the sky fell, I wouldn’t abandon you.”

“I was already dying anyway.”

“Nonsense! As long as you’re not that damned emperor, you’ll surely live to a hundred. I’ll find medicine for you…”

Xiahou Dan lay quietly on his back for a moment: “I’m not the son of your old friend.”

Bei Zhou didn’t stop walking, but suddenly fell silent, unclear if he understood.

Xiahou Dan: “I’m not Xiahou Dan, I’m just a lonely soul borrowing this body. Everything before was my deception.”

“…”

“Uncle?” Seeing that he still wouldn’t put him down, Xiahou Dan’s voice became more urgent, “Do you understand? I’m not—”

“I understand, you’re not her child.” Bei Zhou’s voice suddenly became hoarse, as if he had aged decades in an instant. “But she wouldn’t want to see you suffer either.”

He took a deep breath and let out a long howl to the sky, his voice shaking the forest.

“Prince Duan’s men are coming up.” Er Lan, hiding behind the remaining boulder, looked at those beside her. “To die on the same day with you gentlemen is the fortune of my life.”

Li Yunxi’s face was full of conflict. Finally, as if making a painful decision, he clenched his fist and said: “Brother Er, actually I—”

“Hahaha, why don’t we swear brotherhood here, and be brothers again in the next life!” Yang Duojie said generously.

Er Lan: “Wonderful idea.”

Li Yunxi: “…”

“Live well… build that business empire.” Xie Yong’er’s gaze began to blur. “Don’t be sad, I’m going back… to the world outside the book.”

Yu Wanyin’s tears finally spilled over.

For a paper character, what world could exist outside the book?

Xie Yong’er: “When I get back to modern times, I’ll go to your hometown, and try that bean… whatever you mentioned…”

“Bean juice.” Yu Wanyin’s tears fell one by one onto her face. “And stir-fried liver, noodles with soybean paste, roast duck, steamed flowery duck, steamed lamb…”

Xie Yong’er slowly closed her eyes to the sound of Yu Wanyin listing dishes.

The ground began to shake at that moment.

With the unexpected death of the chosen one, this realm emitted a resonating hum. The mountains and rocks shook, threatening to collapse, as if about to crumble entirely.

Yu Wanyin held Xie Yong’er’s body tightly, trying to shield her from dust and falling wood.

Her mind was blank, with only one thought: why couldn’t she have found that gun earlier?

The earthquake lasted a full quarter-hour before heaven and earth finally calmed their anger.

Yu Wanyin still sat bewildered in place until a secret guard pulled her up: “Your Ladyship, we must continue. May we bury Consort Xie’s body here?”

“…”

“Your Ladyship?”

Yu Wanyin took a deep breath. Of the secret guards still alive, only five remained, all with minor injuries.

She patted her cheeks, forcing her mind to function again: “Bury her. Try to erase all our traces, or leave some traces elsewhere to confuse pursuers.”

So one person stayed behind to handle this, while the other four escorted her onward. The horses had been killed, so they could only walk, following a path that avoided human habitation, going farther and farther.

When the sun set that day, Yu Wanyin’s strength was exhausted. They found a cave to spend the night, not daring to light a fire, just taking out dry rations to share.

Yu Wanyin took only a few bites before losing her appetite. She retreated to a corner, hugging her knees, her gaze fixed.

So much had happened today, yet as she turned it all over in her mind, only two questions remained.

Why hadn’t she seen through Xiahou Dan’s deception last night?

Why couldn’t she have found that gun earlier?

Perhaps because her condition was so terrible, the secret guards kept stealing glances at her. Finally, after whispering among themselves, one of them took out a letter from his bosom: “Your Ladyship.”

Yu Wanyin slowly raised her eyes.

“At parting, His Majesty left this letter with me, saying to give it to Your Ladyship after we were safely out of danger. I’ve taken the liberty of presenting it early… perhaps Your Ladyship would like to read it.”

Yu Wanyin snatched the letter, tore it open roughly, and began reading urgently by the last rays of sunset.

The letter was written entirely in simplified characters but in an elegant, free-flowing style. It wasn’t Xiahou Dan’s usual handwriting that he showed her, but reminiscent of the Spring Festival couplets he had written last night.

The first line read “My wife Wanyin.”

The second line was: “My name is Zhang San.”

My wife Wanyin:

My name is Zhang San.

Go ahead and laugh if you want. People often asked if I came free with a phone plan, to have such a name. It was quite the opposite—my parents were extremely satisfied with this name, believing it was so unconventional that it would make me stand out in a crowd.

And indeed it did. From childhood to adulthood, I never met anyone with the same name. From elementary school to middle school, I was always the first student teachers remembered. However, besides this cool name, I was quite unremarkable. My grades were neither good nor bad, only got first place in physics twice. As for English, I relied on dice for multiple-choice questions.

Oh right, I was decent at sports, and my class always forced me to sign up for long-distance running at school sports meets.

You might wonder why I’m going on about middle school.

Because in our world, I don’t have memories beyond that.

In my third year of middle school, I was playing with my phone during class when a pop-up ad drew me into this book (a story that teaches us to pay attention in class). When I first became Xiahou Dan, his body was just six years old.

It has been sixteen years and eight months since then.

By this calculation, I’ve been Xiahou Dan longer than I was Zhang San.

In the past two years, I sometimes found myself doubting whether the “world outside” really exists, or if it’s just a delusion from my sick mind. After all, a world with air conditioning, internet, health insurance, and aspirin sounds increasingly unreal.

It’s funny when I first came here, I felt trapped in an endless nightmare. But looking back now, I could barely even remember the name of my middle school. All those past events seemed like a dream within a dream.

Until you asked, “How are you.”

So it was all real. So I had once lived in flesh and blood, had parents, had friends, had a future.

I am a despicable person. You saved me in that moment, but in the very next second, I devised a plan to deceive you. To gain your trust, become your ally, and use the script in your hands for my purposes. Only this way could I achieve victory most securely, making the Empress Dowager and Prince Duan pay blood for blood.

Before you, I not only glossed over my past but also deliberately controlled my words and actions, striving to play a modern person familiar to you. I couldn’t let the blood on my hands scare you away.

It wasn’t until I started playing Zhang San that I was forced to realize, bit by bit, how far I had strayed from him. For years, I dreamed every night of demons dragging me down to endless hell, until it became normal. A month after you arrived, I suddenly dreamed of classmates passing notes, calling me to rush to the cafeteria after class. When I woke up, I broke several cups, just wanting to hear some noise within these palace walls. At that moment, I truly wanted to burn everything down and end it all.

You came too late, Wanyin. No kindred spirits are waiting for you here. You only got stuck with a madman whose days are numbered. Born not as a human, I am sorry.

—Did you just smile? Smile more, you’ve been too unhappy lately.

I can’t pinpoint when I fell in love with you. As Zhang San, liking you seemed natural; as Xiahou Dan, it was almost an obsession. I only know that afterward, I became even more afraid of being exposed.

A drowning person always prays for a piece of driftwood to grab. But when they are too far from shore, beyond salvation, holding tightly to the driftwood only drags it down too.

I hoped, at least, to keep you untainted by blood. I hoped that in this dark sea of evil, there would be at least one place where you could sleep soundly. I hoped to delay facing your fearful, guarded eyes. What I hoped for most was to see you forever blazing like fire, bright as the moon, always that fearless, formidable girl from the beginning.

If you were temporarily afraid and wavering, needing a kindred spirit to give you strength, then I would play that role until the day I died.