“Because he is Ji Heng’s enemy—they’re destined to fight to the death.”

The air in the room seemed to freeze. The candle wavered precariously in the lantern, as if it would topple over the next moment and burn together with the lantern until nothing remained.

Jiang Li reached out to steady the lantern. Yin Zhiqing seemed to have just reacted. She said, “You think I’ll believe your nonsense? Our Yin family has been living in Yun Province for many years. How could we have any enmity with the Duke? Yin Zhili was wrong to abduct you, but that’s not a reason for you to casually slander the Yin family!”

“What more reason is needed?” Jiang Li said indifferently. “The Yin family leaving Yanjing is the reason. Even if the Yin family hasn’t harmed Ji Heng, haven’t they harmed Ji Heng’s family? I’m afraid that’s not necessarily so.”

Yin Zhiqing trembled with anger. The more calm and composed Jiang Li was, the more she appeared to be making trouble without reason. She wanted to defend the Yin family but didn’t know where to start. The more she looked at Jiang Li, the more irritating she became. For some reason, she blurted out, “Even if what you say is true, you’re overestimating yourself! You say that you alone can become leverage to threaten the Duke—how is that possible? Everyone knows the Duke is heartless and ruthless, and most loves to stand by and watch. You’re merely the wife the Emperor bestowed upon him, a bargaining chip in transactions between noble families! How would he risk danger for a bargaining chip? So you needn’t flatter yourself. You can rest assured he won’t willingly let himself be manipulated for your sake, nor will his life be endangered because of you!”

“Is that so?” Instead, Jiang Li smiled. Her tone could almost be called gentle as she said, “Princess Pingyang, just because you haven’t seen something doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist in this world. Just because you can’t obtain something doesn’t mean others can’t either. Ji Heng himself asked His Majesty for this imperial betrothal. Even if I’m a bargaining chip in a transaction, I have value. You’re not as good as me—otherwise he would have asked His Majesty to bestow you instead.”

“You…” Yin Zhiqing was dumbstruck. Jiang Li’s words exploded like thunder in her mind. Her hidden feelings, spoken in such a tone by another victor—she could no longer stay here. She suddenly pushed open the door and ran out, not even bothering to check whether Jiang Li had touched anything in the food basket.

The moment she pushed open the door, Jiang Li also saw clearly—all four sides of the house were guarded by soldiers. Yes, soldiers wearing armor.

Jiang Li sat back down in the chair, realizing the situation was worse than she’d thought. If this matter had been orchestrated solely by Yin Zhili, it would be easier to handle. Having met Yin Zhili several times, regardless of his scheming abilities, his temperament was somewhat indecisive and rather softhearted—Jiang Li could still find opportunities. But from the looks of it, Yin Zhili had merely accepted this matter. The one who arranged it was undoubtedly Yin Zhan. Only Yin Zhan would unhesitatingly cut off Haitang’s little finger to threaten Jiang Li, every word dripping with ruthlessness.

Yin Zhan had arranged everything. Yin Zhili was simply following Yin Zhan’s arrangements. That’s why Yin Zhiqing knew nothing about it. What made Jiang Li anxious was that she hadn’t been able to see Yin Zhili, and therefore couldn’t learn any news of Situ Jiuyue, Ye Mingyu, and the others.

However, one thing was certain—since this was Yin Zhan’s arrangement, Yin Zhili’s path was Yin Zhan’s backup plan. If Yin Zhan was currently engaged with Ji Heng, he must not be far from here, so that once the outcome occurred, Yin Zhan could order Yin Zhili to prepare the second plan—using her to threaten Ji Heng.

Jiang Li couldn’t help clenching her fists.

Knowing Ji Heng was nearby but not knowing exactly where he was or what his current situation might be—yet she could do nothing. The only thing she could hope for was that Yin Zhili would honor the agreement and spare Ye Mingyu and the others.

Otherwise… she looked at the food basket on the table. The shards from a broken dish were also extremely sharp. In this world, living wasn’t simple, but dying was very easy.

In this transaction, she absolutely couldn’t lose everything.

…

In Qingzhou, the snow fell heavily.

North of the Yangtze River was the North, south of the Yangtze River was the South. Qingzhou was located beside the Yangtze. In spring it resembled the southern kingdoms—flowers red and willows green. In winter it was like the northern kingdoms—snow filling the vast sky.

But even in the bleak winter, the red pavilion remained warm and lively. Stepping inside felt as if one had entered the misty flowers of March. Young women wore thin gauze skirts, walking barefoot on snow-white carpets, their hands and feet adorned with fine, scattered silver bells. Each was soft and graceful, charming and alluring. Candles were carved into the shape of lotus flowers, blooming layer by layer as the wicks burned. Red curtains and golden powder, music and dancing—a treasury of gold concealing countless jewels, and also concealing beauties that even jewels couldn’t buy.

There were officials in official robes, and scholars in white. There were swordsmen with blades on their backs, and dissolute young masters. A night here was merely to seek comfort and warmth in winter. Noble and base—there was no difference.

On the second floor, beaded curtains separated each room. The glittering curtains under the lamplight seemed like crystal flowers dancing everywhere in the dragon’s palace of legend, or like icicles hanging from trees on the snowy white earth in winter, making one unable to help but pity how soon the beautiful scenery would melt and the spring night would be no more.

On the stage was an opera performance.

The red pavilion had never before had opera troupes perform. There was only the singing, dancing, and music of women. Opera troupes were what wealthy household ladies and young misses loved to watch. Everything here was for men. Today’s opera troupe was naturally also a man’s idea, and that this guest could make the proprietress of the red pavilion change her mind showed he had spent a fortune with a grand gesture.

The opera troupe on stage sang nothing other than Farewell My Concubine, most beloved by many madams and ladies. The beauty’s parting from the hero had always been a poignant reality since ancient times. People sighed regretfully for the hero, others admired the beauty’s deep loyalty, some believed in victory and defeat as natural outcomes, and still others thought it was all merely the joys and sorrows of others—a play, forgotten after watching.

In the great hall were beauties, on the stage were beauties, and behind the beaded curtains sat another beauty in red robes. His red garments were as brilliant as flowing fire, spreading slowly downward. The edges and collar of his robes were embroidered with black pythons, adding a sinister touch to the brilliant color. Yet his face was extremely beautiful—more gorgeous than Yu Ji on stage with her oil makeup, who was rumored to be breathtakingly beautiful. A pair of passionate amber phoenix eyes seemed drunk yet not drunk. The corners of his lips held a smile. Lotus pearl light reflected on the beaded curtain, passing over his long lashes, his straight nose bridge, and landing on his rosy thin lips. He held a magnificent folding fan in his hand, gently swaying it without haste.

As if to dispel the frivolity and heat in this room.

Beside him sat several other people, all in brocade robes and jade belts, seeming like ordinary young masters, yet their faces showed no smiles. They all became motionless backdrops—six people in total. Sitting to the left and right of the red-robed man were none other than Zhao Ke and Wen Ji.

The colors behind these beaded curtains were more alluring than all the young ladies in the entire red pavilion, yet were blocked by the curtains, isolating prying eyes from outside. In the teacups on the table, the tea’s lingering fragrance remained. Beside them in the incense burner, fragrance curled upward in wisps.

On stage, someone was singing: “Boldly entering the tiger’s den, luring the dragon to the beach. Treacherous minister Li Zuoche presents himself, Your Majesty, may you live ten thousand years!”

From the adjacent room suddenly burst a cry of “Excellent!” After the applause came the word “Reward!” From one of the rooms on the second floor, a gold ingot suddenly flew out, passing over the heads of the actors performing on stage, and landing on the silver tray used for teapots on the foremost table. Perfectly centered, positioned exactly in the upper left corner.

The people below the stage were stunned, then broke into cheers, all looking up toward the second floor.

Ji Heng’s hand playing with the fan didn’t stop. He tilted his head slightly, as if wanting to see through the beaded curtain into the adjacent room to see who was there.

The actors on stage paid no attention to these matters and continued singing. What the nobles did wasn’t important. Even if someone suddenly came on stage to assassinate someone, as long as no one died, the opera had to be finished. Such were the rules for those in the theater. Otherwise, angering the nobles would also lead to a miserable end.

The stage continued with its melodious singing. In the adjacent room behind the beaded curtains, the cries of “Excellent!” never stopped. Gold ingots flew downstairs one after another, each landing perfectly centered on the silver tray, neither crooked nor slanted, stacked neat and orderly. The cheers below grew louder. The actors sang with more vigor, voice after voice, hesitant and plaintive, almost making people’s blood boil and their hearts break.

When the singing reached “My mind is set, no need for more petitions. Truly: With this gentleman we shall surely triumph, this very day we raise troops to crush the Han army,” Ji Heng closed the folding fan in his hand and stood up.

He lifted the beaded curtain and walked out.

The other people in the room also followed, and saw the red-robed young man walk to the adjacent room—the one that kept throwing out gold ingots. He used his fan to lift the curtain and entered uninvited.

It was a table of guests.

On the table were fine wine and food, all beef and white liquor, extremely rough and bold. Seven people total, dressed in plain clothes and leather boots, with rough appearances, as if from military backgrounds. The middle-aged man at the head was tall and handsome, resolute and rugged. He held a dagger, forcefully cutting off a piece of beef and putting it in his mouth to chew vigorously, then tilting his head back to down a jar of fine wine, making one’s blood surge just watching. This person was none other than Prince Xia, Yin Zhan.

Ji Heng and the six brocade-robed men behind him walked in.

Having finished drinking, Yin Zhan casually threw the wine jar aside, wiped his mouth, exclaimed how satisfying it was, and only then looked at Ji Heng. He laughed loudly and said, “So the Duke is also here—please!”

Ji Heng didn’t refuse and sat down leisurely.

This room was extremely large and spacious, with a long table. Yin Zhan’s people only occupied half of it, as if deliberately leaving the other half for Ji Heng’s people, as if they had known all along that Ji Heng would come. The two of them sat at opposite ends of the long table. Yin Zhan raised his wine jar toward Ji Heng. Ji Heng smiled slightly. Wen Ji handed over a wine pot, and he propped his head on one hand, tilting back to receive the wine—truly romantic and gorgeous, boundlessly carefree.

A toast.

Ji Heng curved his lips. “Prince Xia truly made me search high and low.”

“Didn’t the Duke still find me?” Yin Zhan smiled unconcernedly. “The waves behind the Yangtze push the waves ahead!” He raised his jar again. “Please!”

Outside, women’s laughter, men’s teasing, spectators’ cheers—all vanished in an instant. Apart from the guests at this table behind the beaded curtains, only the actors on the stage outside continued singing without pause.

“The waning moonlight dims, in the autumn wind, drums and horns sound desolate. I recall from when I entered battle,征into the battlefield, not knowing how many years and months have passed. What year can I fulfill my wish to return home, when weapons are destroyed and sun and moon shine bright.” Yu Ji turned, her voice mournful and desolate. “I, Yu Ji under the Western Chu Hegemon’s command, was raised in the inner chambers, versed in letters and swords from youth. Since following the King, fighting east and west, through hardship and toil, I know not when peace will finally come!”

“Yu Ji, oh Yu Ji!” This phrase, however, came from Yin Zhan’s mouth. His expression was wistful, as if recalling something. He drank a cup of wine with his head down.

Ji Heng looked at him with a half-smile. “Prince Xia seems moved. I wonder if you’re thinking of Lin Roujia or my mother, Yu Hongye.”

Yin Zhan’s movement holding the wine jar froze. After a moment, he looked at Ji Heng and laughed heartily. “Hongye! Hongye’s son is truly as clever as Hongye herself.”

Ji Heng held the wine pot, pouring himself a small cup. He took a sip and smiled. “Unfortunately, no matter how clever, she still died at Prince Xia’s hands.”

This sentence was neither light nor heavy. All the previously laughing and chatting guests fell silent—whether the rough men in hemp cloth and leather boots or the young masters in brocade robes, they all acted as if they hadn’t heard. They continued eating and drinking as before, but said nothing.

The atmosphere at the banquet became quiet to the point of eeriness, and from that eeriness grew a kind of tragedy.

Outside, the opera continued. The performance reached where Han Xin’s ten-sided ambush achieved merit, dismounting to ascend the mountain path. Eight Han generals held flags to arrange the formation, Li Zuoche led Xiang Yu into the trap.

“Prince Xia,” Ji Heng began with a smile, “Ten-sided ambush—is this opera familiar? Does it remind you of anything? Do you need me to remind you? Twenty-three years ago, at Hongshan Temple, how you lured your sworn brother, my father, inside. A hundred archers blocked the path, arrows coated with poison. The world praised General Zhaode as an upstanding man, yet forgot one saying—there’s no ruthlessness without manhood, isn’t that right?”

Yin Zhan looked at the youth before him. This youth was beautiful. Even speaking of the tragic events of his birth parents, he could wear a casual smile. Within that smile grew fierce cruelty, almost devouring, yet also seemed to conceal wicked innocence, making one fall into a trap if not careful, never to climb out again.

The Ji Heng before his eyes suddenly became blurred, seeming like his close friend Ji Minghan who always clapped his shoulder and laughed heartily, yet also like the clever and spirited, absolutely gorgeous Yu Hongye.

Twenty-three years ago, when Eastern Xia invaded, the young Golden Guard General led troops to battle. Yu Hongye in Yanjing never waited for Ji Minghan’s return before dying of grave illness. No one in the world knew what hidden circumstances existed. They only knew all the servants inside and outside the Ji household were replaced. After that, Ji Minghan disappeared without trace, leaving only Ji Heng and Old General Ji to depend on each other.

What the truth was, no one cared instead. Time flowed like a long river, burying all vivid colors, making them old and insignificant, sinking to the riverbed, never to be mentioned again. Yet not everyone would forget.

How exactly did Yu Hongye die?

Yin Zhan recalled that afternoon decades ago when he and the Empress Dowager were having a tryst in a corner of the palace. Who could have imagined Yu Hongye would appear at that very moment? She appeared at just the right time, so much so that even the palace attendants keeping watch outside didn’t notice. Even now, Yin Zhan still couldn’t think of a reason why Yu Hongye appeared at that time.

But this was the grave crime of debauching the imperial harem, a capital offense. While Yin Zhan still hesitated slightly, the Empress Dowager had already ordered the palace attendants beside her to seize Yu Hongye.

Yu Hongye had given birth to Ji Heng less than a year prior. Yin Zhan couldn’t bear to act. This concubine-born daughter of the Yu family, though merely a concubine’s daughter, was renowned throughout the world for her talents and grew up gorgeous and graceful—she was Ji Minghan’s beloved woman. It wasn’t as if there had never been good times. He still remembered accompanying Ji Minghan to find Yu Hongye back then—drinking and singing, striking bowls and drinking heartily in happiness. Then carefree joy transformed into murderous intent everywhere. How could he bring himself to harm this sister-in-law?

Lin Roujia looked at him and said coldly, “Yin Zhan, do you want to get me killed?”

In that instant, Yin Zhan shuddered and suddenly understood. He hesitated no more, even having his subordinates violate Yu Hongye before killing her, throwing her body at the Ji family’s gate under cover of night. Only this way, faced with a defiled corpse, the Ji family would surely not dare make a fuss to preserve their reputation. And his good brother Ji Minghan, who loved Yu Hongye so dearly, would not let Yu Hongye suffer gossip after death.

Everything went according to his plan.

Ji Heng played with the folding fan in his hand. His red robes amid the feast were fiercely red. His voice still carried a smile, yet this smile was exceptionally sinister, bone-chillingly cold. “I personally saw my mother’s corpse back then.”

A light, casual sentence, yet Yin Zhan suddenly understood what Ji Heng meant.

Could a one-year-old child have memories? Could they understand? But perhaps yes—having witnessed such a scene, perhaps it was the first time in his life he encountered darkness. Those days came too early, so he fell into hell very early, made a deal with demons, and returned to the mortal world.

Yin Zhan laughed heartily and gulped down several mouthfuls of wine, then said to Ji Heng, “Well, that’s truly regrettable then!”

Everything went as Yin Zhan and Lin Roujia had predicted. Yu Hongye was a criminal official’s daughter, and a concubine’s daughter at that. Previously relegated to a brothel, when Ji Minghan insisted on marrying Yu Hongye despite his clan’s opposition, he had already incurred universal anger. Now that Yu Hongye was dead, it suited the Ji clan elders perfectly. When the triumphantly returning Ji Minghan learned his beloved wife had died and insisted on seeking justice for her and finding the true culprit, he was blocked by all the Ji clan elders.

They said such shameful matters must not be spread. The Ji family couldn’t become a laughingstock for all under heaven. Burying her with the excuse of death from grave illness—wasn’t that perfect for everyone? Did he want everyone in the world to know what Yu Hongye encountered before death, that her body was unclean, truly fulfilling the saying that beautiful women bring calamity?

Even Old General Ji came to persuade Ji Minghan not to make a fuss and to swallow this insult.

Ji Minghan flew into a rage, swearing to sever ties with the Ji clan and break all relations with the clan. From then on, he left Ji Heng in Old General Ji’s care and devoted himself to searching for the true culprit.

That truly wasn’t an easy time.

Actually, Yin Zhan didn’t want to kill Ji Minghan. Among the countless fine men and heroes in the world, he and Ji Minghan especially appreciated each other. He only wished that one day they could go to battle together and jointly resist the enemy. They had spoken of the desert sunset, the crescent moon over snow mountains, bloodthirsty wolf packs, and swamps dense with venomous snakes. They had competed in drinking in taverns together and raced horses on training grounds. Some remain strangers despite white hair, while others become bosom friends at first meeting. Yin Zhan believed the woman he loved most in all the world was Lin Roujia, and the man he most admired was Ji Minghan.

Brotherhood and loyalty, sworn as brothers—how could he bring himself to act against Ji Minghan?

Yu Ji was singing: “Since I followed the King fighting east and west, enduring wind, frost, and toil year after year. I only hate tyrannical Qin for bringing suffering to the people, harming the common folk with hardship, poverty, and endless suffering.”

Xiang Yu said: “Spearing several Han camp generals, despite bravery how could I guard against the ten-sided ambush.”

Ji Heng smiled faintly, drew a thumb-sized pearl from his sleeve, flicked his fan, and the pearl flew straight out through the curtain. A crisp “plop” sounded as the pearl landed steadily on the first floor, in a jade-green small bowl beside the silver tray holding gold ingots.

“Excellent skill!” Yin Zhan clapped in praise.

“Prince Xia’s archery,” Ji Heng said leisurely, “is also unparalleled.”

Yin Zhan smiled without speaking.

After Yu Hongye’s death, Ji Minghan never gave up searching for the true culprit. Even if the Yin family members all disagreed, even if it meant leaving the Yin family, Ji Minghan spared no cost—he would avenge Yu Hongye.

At first, Yin Zhan didn’t take it to heart, but Ji Minghan was too capable. People only said generals only knew how to fight battles—how could military men have cunning? Yet they didn’t know Ji Minghan was a brave general and also a strategist with divine calculations. He was never stupid, his mind was agile, and gradually he discovered some clues.

Ji Minghan alone didn’t guard against Yin Zhan—probably never imagining his sworn brother could have any reason to kill his wife. He told Yin Zhan about the clues he’d obtained. Yin Zhan gradually sensed the crisis. Although currently it hadn’t implicated him and Lin Roujia, over time it inevitably would involve them.

Yin Zhan himself would be one thing, but Lin Roujia couldn’t die. Lin Roujia was pregnant.

In the palace, because of framing a favored consort, Lin Roujia took the initiative to go to Hongshan Temple thousands of li away to contemplate before Buddha to prove her innocence—in reality, to carry the pregnancy to term. If at this time Ji Minghan discovered something suspicious, once the affair between Yin Zhan and Lin Roujia was exposed, not only would he and Lin Roujia die, but also the innocent child. For this unborn child, Yin Zhan held enormous expectations. To protect Lin Roujia, to protect this child, Yin Zhan could sacrifice everything, including Ji Minghan.

He told Ji Minghan he had found evidence of the culprit. The matter was of grave importance, but he was currently at Hongshan Temple—he asked Ji Minghan to come. At Hongshan Temple, Yin Zhan ambushed a hundred archers. To ensure absolute success, the arrows were coated with Molan’s deadly poison—sealing the throat upon contact with blood.

It was a very, very cold spring night. Even now, Yin Zhan didn’t know—clearly it was spring, yet why was the wind that night so icy, as if it would pierce through one’s bones, as if the lake water could freeze solid the next moment. Ji Minghan placed complete trust in him, never on guard. He walked into the ambush.

Just as the stage sang, “Spearing several Han camp generals, yet outnumbered, unable to achieve victory.”

Soldiers in the tent had also heard this opera Ten-Sided Ambush. Everyone knew not to learn from the Hegemon King’s pursuit of fame, but when one found oneself in the midst of it, there was no “victory and defeat are common in military affairs.” There was no second life to stage a comeback. Victory was victory, defeat was defeat. Yin Zhan watched with his own eyes as Ji Minghan charged into the ambush, like a trapped beast. Even though outnumbered, he still displayed unexpectedly heroic courage. Ji Minghan was extremely clever. When he discovered he had fallen deeply into a trap, he immediately ceased fighting and focused on escape.

Yin Zhan stood on high ground and, aimed at that lone rider struggling to break through the encirclement, shot the critically important arrow.

The arrow struck Ji Minghan’s back. Just as Yin Zhan was about to pursue, other sounds suddenly arose from all directions. Yin Zhan had to stop. He couldn’t make too much commotion—otherwise if people discovered the abnormality at Hongshan Temple and discovered Lin Roujia’s situation, what then? But he was certain Ji Minghan definitely wouldn’t survive the night. The poison on the arrow was extremely potent. Since it struck Ji Minghan, he would certainly die. Therefore, he only secretly sent his subordinates to search for Ji Minghan’s corpse.

But Ji Minghan disappeared from then on.

For a long time after this, Yin Zhan inquired everywhere about Ji Minghan’s whereabouts. He even tried every means to probe the Ji family members, but found nothing. Ji Minghan seemed to have vanished from the world. Ji Heng grew up in the Duke’s manor. If Ji Minghan were still alive, he should come to see Yu Hongye’s son at least once. But he didn’t.

He probably died in some corner.

Yin Zhan felt somewhat wistful.

Later, Lin Roujia gave birth to a son. He switched Lin Roujia’s son with his own wife’s son, killing his own wife and child. Then to dispel the late Emperor’s suspicions, he remarried and had children, left Yanjing, moved to Yun Province, and raised Yin Zhili to adulthood.

Many years passed. Life seemed very peaceful. Having left the familiar environment with all strangers around, even Yin Zhan himself forgot his crazed appearance from years ago when his hands were stained with blood for Lin Roujia’s sake. This was different from battlefield bloodshed. On the battlefield he protected the common people and defended the nation. But now… he deceived friends, murdered family members including his own son, betrayed sworn brothers.

Regret? None of that had any meaning. Once this path moved forward, there was no turning back. Otherwise, aside from those he’d killed, he couldn’t even protect the most important person in his life.

Yin Zhan once had a beautiful dream—that the stains of the past would never be discovered with Ji Minghan and Yu Hongye’s deaths. He could smoothly begin his schemes, starting with himself and ending with himself, leaving Yin Zhili a clean empire.

But when he returned and saw Ji Heng for the first time, he knew this beautiful dream had shattered. Ji Minghan and Yu Hongye had never left. Ji Heng knew everything. Just as he had been planning in Yun Province, Ji Heng had been lying in wait in Yanjing. They were evenly matched, competing with each other. Most importantly, Ji Heng was young and strong, in his prime, while he had already grown old.

He couldn’t be as brave as in years past, but perhaps there was still one thing he could do—be even more despicable than before.

“Prince Xia is actually quite a despicable person.” Ji Heng smiled as he finished a cup of wine. “But over these years, I’ve also done quite a few despicable things. So none of that matters.” He stared into Prince Xia’s eyes and said deliberately, “Would you like to compare—whether you’re more despicable, or I’m more despicable?”

Yin Zhan was stunned.

That red-robed beauty smiled and spoke pleasantly, yet his tone concealed layers of undisguised murderous intent, like Yu Hongye of years past. No—he was more sinister than Yu Hongye, more ruthless, more cunning. He sat before him, come to collect a debt.

A debt owed twenty-three years ago.