The young emperor told Prince Xian that his imperial throne was obtained through mere chance, not by heavenly mandate. Though he had reluctantly undertaken the role, he was ultimately stubborn by nature, dull-witted, and lacking in ability. Not only that, but his virtue was unworthy of his position, bringing disaster to others and himself.

The realm should be governed by the capable—this principle he had only now come to understand. Though it was like mending the pen after the sheep were lost, he hoped it was not too late. He had already burned the imperial edict and sworn to heaven that all people would be safe.

Prince Xian had once yielded his position to Emperor Shengwu, creating a beautiful tale of brotherly harmony. With such a brilliant example before him, he should naturally follow suit.

Prince Xian’s tone had been heavy throughout, and reaching this point, he stopped and looked toward Shu Shenhui.

The candlelight illuminated his face as he listened quietly.

Prince Xian steadied himself, rose from his seat, walked before him, and took out a document he had brought, bowing as he presented it with both hands.

“This is the abdication edict. His Majesty entrusted me to present it to Your Highness. His Majesty says that his Third Imperial Uncle is more suitable than he to be emperor of this realm. All related matters, including when to announce it to the world, are entirely for Your Highness to decide. He will comply with everything.”

Prince Xian held the document, waiting for Shu Shenhui to accept it.

Shu Shenhui remained completely motionless: “Please return this to His Majesty, and tell His Majesty not to belittle himself. I know his capabilities—he can govern the world and benefit the people.”

“Additionally, I also have something. Since Imperial Uncle has come, please trouble yourself to present it to His Majesty as well—”

He rose and brought over a memorial: “This is the resignation petition I submitted on New Year’s Day at the grand court assembly. Imperial Uncle should remember that His Majesty did not approve it at the time and took it back. It was also through His Majesty’s grace that he allowed me to serve as regent until now. The national war has been won, and this position of Regent Prince should truly be relinquished this time.”

He then brought over a box, set it down, and opened it. Prince Xian recognized it immediately—inside was the nine-ring golden jade belt that Emperor Ming had personally fastened around his waist when he was appointed Regent Prince on his deathbed. Prince Xian had been nearby at the time and personally witnessed the entire process—the brotherly affection was so moving.

“The belt serves as the symbol of regency. Today, as I relinquish this title, this item should rightfully be returned.”

He spoke indifferently.

However, Prince Xian’s mood became increasingly bleak.

There was a type of person in this world who was like the sun hanging in the sky, naturally brilliant, with nothing able to conceal their light and glory. But when that radiance fell into others’ eyes, it became a sharp edge that could cut oneself.

His nephew was precisely such a person.

He was the grandson of the founding emperor, son of Emperor Shengwu, possessed of dragon and phoenix bearing and heavenly countenance, with talent for governing and ability to rule the world.

Though news had spread today that the young emperor had last night accused Consort Dunyi of forging false edicts and burned them before her face, Prince Xian knew the true situation in his heart.

That imperial edict must have been genuine. As for why Emperor Ming, before his death, had both personally given the belt while secretly leaving the imperial testament, Prince Xian understood all too clearly—Emperor Ming did not believe his imperial brother had any designs on the throne.

If even he thought so, what of others?

But from beginning to end, Prince Xian had always believed that his nephew harbored not the slightest possessive thought toward that position in Xuanzheng Hall. Even after he had executed Gao He before the young emperor and all the officials, Prince Xian still thought so.

That incident, in others’ eyes, was the Regent Prince eliminating forces supporting the young emperor, monopolizing power, and completely opposing the young emperor.

But to Prince Xian, he seemed to sense some fateful, resolute march toward a path of no return.

He hoped he was truly overthinking, that his premonition was wrong.

Prince Xian stood for a moment, then suddenly came to his senses and hastily began explaining, as if trying to salvage something: “Your Highness! You may not yet know what His Majesty has done. He has ordered Liu Xiang to be recalled and commanded him to take charge of the Department of Earthly Gates. The so-called late emperor’s edict was also Consort Li’s forgery, and His Majesty has already burned it! And Lan Rong! Though His Majesty granted him death, and he luckily escaped, his execution is only a matter of time. Your Highness, His Majesty truly knows his wrongs and wants to make amends! Moreover, since Your Highness also acknowledges that His Majesty should continue on the throne, you shouldn’t relinquish your burden so quickly. Though the national war is won, the court is empty, and His Majesty needs Your Highness’s assistance even more—”

As Prince Xian spoke these words, seeing that abdication edict he had brought tonight, his heart suddenly turned cold again, and his voice gradually faded.

Was what he had delivered tonight truly not imperial scheming, but genuine enlightenment from that young man?

Shu Shenhui said, “His Majesty is decisive and swift in action. I have not misjudged him—he will surely become a wise ruler in the future.”

“Your Highness—”

Shu Shenhui smiled and nodded at Prince Xian: “Thank you for your trouble, Imperial Uncle. Your nephew will not see you out.”

After Prince Xian left, Shu Shenhui sat back down. After a moment, he went to his study filled with maps and strategic models, took down the territorial map that had hung on the wall for a long time, carefully folded it neatly, put it away, and then covered the strategic model with a dust cloth. After doing all this, he took one final look around and walked out, returning to his sleeping quarters. Passing through the garden pools on the way, the evening breeze gently carried the faint, subtle fragrance of lotus flowers.

He slowly stopped and stood by the water’s edge.

He remembered that wedding night with her.

He recalled that his nephew had come that night, and she had emerged from the bridal chamber. After the matter was concluded, he had accompanied her back, and they had also passed through this place. To ease the awkwardness between them, he had introduced this garden pool to her, saying that when the lotus flowers bloomed, she could come here to escape the summer heat.

Now the lotus flowers had bloomed, but she was long gone, having left for that realm where she could gallop on horseback, that world that naturally belonged to her.

He stood for a moment, then continued forward, returning to Fanzhi Hall. He organized those few practice writings with frayed edges that she had left behind and that he had looked at countless times, brought them back to the study where he had first discovered them, and placed them back in the calligraphy tube, letting everything return to its original state.

He walked out and stopped in the courtyard, turning back for one last look at this sleeping hall where he had once married her, then turned and left.

At the end of this evening, he knocked on the door of Princess Yongtai’s mansion.

Last year, Princess Yongtai became pregnant, and recently she had joyfully given birth to a son joyfully. From the outside, it appeared that Chen Lun had recently delegated official duties to his subordinates and rarely went out, spending almost all his time at home accompanying the princess and their child. The couple was overjoyed to see his nighttime visit and welcomed him to Baohua Pavilion, their summer residence.

Shu Shenhui smiled: “Elder Sister, you have been blessed with a son, and I have never come to visit. Tonight I presume to call upon you—I hope I haven’t disturbed you and your husband.”

Princess Yongtai said, “What kind of words are these? I’ve been hoping you would come, but you never did! Just now, I was talking with my consort about you and my elder sister. Do you remember? Last year, it was right here that I saw off the Eight Tribes’ princess, and Changning came too. You eagerly ran here yourself to fetch her, but when you arrived, you wouldn’t enter, just waited honestly to the side. We all laughed until we couldn’t stop—when had we ever seen you so well-behaved! In a flash, so much time has passed! Come in quickly!”

Shu Shenhui entered and first went to see the infant, who was extremely adorable and had just finished nursing, sleeping soundly. He presented his congratulatory gift, then came out and turned to the princess: “Elder Sister, tonight I request Zijing to drink with me. I’ve brought the wine myself—I hope you’ll release him.”

The princess asked curiously: “What good occasion is today that you would take the initiative to invite him for drinks?” After speaking, she suddenly slapped her forehead: “Of course! A day of great joy! Changning has achieved a great victory and will soon return triumphant—this is indeed worth celebrating! You two go ahead! Even if you drink all night this time, I absolutely won’t say a single word of complaint!”

Shu Shenhui laughed heartily: “Elder Sister speaks truly! It is a day of great joy! We should drink deeply and sing loudly, not stopping until we’re drunk!”

The princess immediately ordered servants to set up a table and arrange wine by the water pavilion. When finished, she dismissed the servants, laughingly told the two men to enjoy themselves, and withdrew.

She stopped at the doorway and looked back at Shu Shenhui’s figure. The smile that had been on her face throughout disappeared, her brow furrowed deeply, and she personally and gently closed the door.

In the water pavilion, only Shu Shenhui and Chen Lun remained seated facing each other. On the summer night, cool breezes by the water made one feel thoroughly comfortable. Shu Shenhui personally poured wine for Chen Lun, who hastily rose and was about to stop him when he heard him laugh: “No need for ceremony. Do you remember last year when we went hunting at the traveling palace? That night, we camped outdoors and drank and talked freely. I remember we agreed to drink together again next time. Tonight, taking advantage of the joyous occasion of the great northern victory, I’ve come to keep that promise.”

Chen Lun was startled, not expecting that he would remember something said casually that day until tonight.

“Previously, you and I were equals, but now you’re a father, much more accomplished than I. Let me toast you first!”

It had been long since he’d seen him in such high spirits, and hearing him speak thus, Chen Lun smiled and drank, also toasting in return: “This great northern victory was achieved through the princess’s outstanding contributions, and Your Highness also deserves great credit. This subject toasts Your Highness and the princess!”

Shu Shenhui said: “Changning led the soldiers in battle and killed the enemies—what credit can I claim? You speak incorrectly.”

Chen Lun had intended to argue, but seeing his expression, he paused and went along with his words: “Your Highness speaks truly. Then, for the princess’s achievements, congratulations to Your Highness!”

Only then did Shu Shenhui smile and drink. The two men exchanged toasts, and amid laughter and conversation, they unknowingly became slightly intoxicated. Chen Lun had been full of concerns, but hadn’t dared speak before. Tonight, since he had come himself, Chen Lun finally couldn’t help but ask: “Now that the war is over, what are Your Highness’s plans for the future?”

Shu Shenhui poured and drank for himself, smiling: “Naturally, to go where I should go.”

Chen Lun was quiet for a moment, then finally, emboldened by the wine, gritted his teeth and said in a low voice: “Your Highness, as long as Your Highness has need, Chen Lun would die ten thousand deaths without regret! I won’t hide from Your Highness—I have already made preparations recently. Not just me, but many in the court are now waiting for Your Highness. With just one word from Your Highness, there will surely be a hundred responses to one call!”

Shu Shenhui smiled: “Zijing, you and I have been friends for many years. If I wanted to do such things, would I need to wait until today? Such words must not be spoken again in the future.”

“Your Highness!” Chen Lun was about to speak again when he saw him put down his wine cup, his smile disappearing. Chen Lun rose and slowly knelt, lowering his head: “This subject is guilty. Your Highness, please forgive me.”

Shu Shenhui was silent for a moment, then walked before him and helped him up from the ground: “Zijing, the war is over, and your uncle Chen Heng should enter the court in a few days to request resignation from his position as governor. I have a letter here. When he comes, please pass it to him for me.”

He took out a letter he had already written and handed it over.

Chen Heng was Chen Lun’s distant clan uncle. Chen Lun slowly accepted it, saying quietly: “Your Highness can rest assured—I will certainly deliver it.”

Shu Shenhui gazed at him and smiled with a nod: “Friendship formed in youth, with complete loyalty and trust—to have a friend like you is my great fortune. Tonight I have seen your son and drunk the wine I owed. I am completely satisfied and should go.”

He paused: “His Majesty has promised that all people will be safe, and he will make it so. In the future, he will surely be an accomplished ruler, and great prosperity for Wei can be expected. Hereafter, you must be loyal to him, assist in national affairs, and share in the glory.”

“I take my leave now—no need to see me out.”

He smiled and nodded, then turned and left.

“Your Highness!”

“Third Brother!”

Princess Yongtai could no longer restrain herself. She rushed out from the shadows outside the door where she had been hiding and, together with Chen Lun, chased after him, calling loudly. Seeing him stop upon hearing their voices and turn back with a smile, making a cupped-fist salute of gratitude from afar, gesturing for them to stop, he then turned and strode away with large steps, his figure gradually disappearing.

He was now free of all attachments. The only person he felt sorry for was his mother—in the future, he feared he could no longer fulfill his filial duties at her side.

In the letter he left for Chen Heng, he respectfully requested Chen Heng to care for her remaining years.

He still remembered that year when his imperial brother sealed him as regent before death, and he had agreed. Soon after, he received news that his mother often couldn’t sleep through the night during that period, frequently going to temples to worship Buddha and make vows.

Born into the royal family and later entering the palace as a consort, she probably knew even then that the path he was embarking upon required tremendous fortune to end well—his past had already enjoyed all worldly riches and honors, and he feared he had already squandered all of fate’s gifts. Where would such luck come from to have such good fortune again?

When she was still a princess, she and Chen Heng had been mutually in love, even to the point of discussing marriage. However, simply because the emperor accidentally encountered her then and was moved by her beauty, her fate changed and she entered the palace as a consort.

That year, shortly after his father’s death, she left the palace to return home, but it was not her proposal. It was his father’s deathbed command, ordering her to return to the place she had originally come from.

At seventeen, Shu Shenhui had not fully understood his father’s intentions. Because he had once accidentally discovered some unpleasantness between his father and mother, he thought his father’s feelings toward his mother had grown cold, so he had banished her from the imperial palace, not allowing her to remain in the palace in a high position like Consort Li, using this as punishment for her.

Only later did he gradually comprehend.

Though his father was far from perfect and had lived a life of supreme dominance, his arrangement before death had obvious intentions.

This was not only his wish, but also the wish of his father, Emperor Shengwu.

He hoped she could forgive him, not grieve excessively, and have someone to accompany her in the future, traveling the world together and spending their remaining years together.

In the sleeping chamber of the princess’s mansion, Chen Lun held Princess Yongtai as she wept silently.

“Why must it be this way? Can’t he just leave?” she asked her husband through sobs.

He no longer wished to leave.

His achievements overshadowed his master’s. Previously, when the young emperor had no suspicions of him, he could naturally retire after success. But now in this situation, he had long lost any path of retreat. He had only two roads: either ascend to the throne as everyone expected, or fulfill the young emperor’s wishes—that youth he had single-handedly supported to this day.

Given Chen Lun’s understanding of him, as long as he believed that youth could become a qualified ruler for Great Wei, he would certainly choose fulfillment.

As for the princess’s mention of leaving, he could do so if he wished. But what kind of person was he? Proud as he was, if he were made to spend his life in suspicion, it would probably be worse than death for him.

He also did not wish to implicate all those around him who had previously been associated with him because of himself alone.

Yet he didn’t know how to explain all this to the princess.

“No! Even if Jin Mei is unwilling, I must enter the palace! I must see His Majesty! That heartless little bastard—”

Princess Yongtai suddenly struggled free from Chen Lun’s embrace, hastily wiped her tears, put on her clothes, and was about to summon someone.

“Princess! Your Highness!”

Just then, a servant’s call came from outside the sleeping chamber.

Chen Lun opened the door and was told that just now, a person claiming to be Chen Heng, Governor of Bingzhou, had arrived, saying he had urgent business and requested an audience.

He and the princess, who had come out upon hearing the commotion, exchanged glances and hurried out to see a travel-worn middle-aged man standing in the main hall, pacing back and forth anxiously.

Chen Lun hadn’t expected that tonight, just as Shu Shenhui had mentioned, he would appear as if fallen from the sky.

“Uncle!” he called out, but before he could say anything else, he saw Chen Heng walking quickly toward him.

“I just entered the city and went to the Regent Prince’s mansion. The servants there said he had come to your place.”

“Where is he? I come with urgent business from the princess, seeking him!”