Zhu Nanxian’s fingers trembled as they gripped the wine cup, tightening for a moment before loosening again.

“When Lord Su accepted the jade pendant, she had no knowledge of its significance. Later, when she learned that Elder Liu’s gift of jade carried deeper meaning, she immediately went to the Liu residence to return it. This was when Lord Liu seized the perfect opportunity to confine her in the Liu residence’s study.”

Zhu Nanxian was stunned—Su Jin had been forced to comply because of such a seemingly insignificant matter.

He had been puzzled all along. Back then, he and Zhu Yushen were already locked in bitter conflict. Ayu was a cautious person, ice-sharp and clever. How could she have been captured and taken to the Liu residence at such a critical juncture? Now, hearing Que Wu explain it this way, it all made perfect sense. Though Ayu was intelligent, when it came to matters of loyalty and affection, her heart was extremely pure and untainted. She had long privately pledged herself to him for life—how could she accept another person’s betrothal token? Moreover, deep in her heart, she had always maintained an inerasable trust and admiration for Liu Yun, unable to believe he would truly harm her.

“I’ve heard that Elder Liu and Liu Yun’s relationship was not particularly good. Between father and son, if not for the old censor’s mediation, they would likely have had almost no contact these past years. That being the case, how would Elder Liu know of Liu Yun’s feelings for Shiyu, and even gift jade accordingly? After Shiyu accepted the jade, if no one had told her, how would she have learned that the jade pendant should have been a pair?”

This didn’t seem like Liu Yun’s handiwork. He wouldn’t make an issue of his own private affairs.

Que Wu said, “Your Majesty of Jin’an has asked the crucial question. This brings us to one person—Marquis Wenyuan.”

“It was Marquis Wenyuan who told Elder Liu about Lord Liu’s feelings for Lord Su. The reason Lord Su learned that the jade pendants were a pair was also because Marquis Wenyuan found an opportunity to enter the palace and ‘casually’ mentioned it to Lord Su. There’s another point—Lord Liu was constantly busy without a moment’s respite, so why was it such a coincidence that when Lord Su went to the Liu residence to return the jade, he happened to return home as well? Because Marquis Wenyuan said he was going to Hangzhou and, finding the journey tedious, asked Lord Liu to return home to fetch a rare manuscript for him. When Lord Liu returned to the Liu residence and encountered Lord Su, he fully understood everything. That’s when he decided to go all in.”

Marquis Wenyuan, Qi Boyuan.

Zhu Nanxian’s heart grew heavy. Yes, how had he forgotten about this figure?

This scholar with eyes full of compassion, nearing seventy years of age.

When his father emperor founded the dynasty, he had three advisors by his side: Xie Xu, Meng Liang, and Qi Boyuan. For them to have schemed and calculated their way through that chaotic era of competing heroes and emerging talents, ultimately seizing control of the realm—even appearing to carry a scholarly air of frost and snow—which of them could be simple characters?

Moreover, Qi Boyuan was Xie Xu’s closest friend and Ayu’s elder. She had never been guarded against such a person.

But she had forgotten that Qi Boyuan was not only her elder, but also the mentor to both Liu Yun and Zhu Yushen.

Having experienced conquering the realm and the purge of meritorious officials, with old friends scattered and perished, the old scholar had long been disheartened. He didn’t care at all which Zhu family heir sat on the dragon throne. It was only his lifelong temperament of compassion for heaven and pity for people that made him unable to bear seeing Liu Yun and Zhu Yushen executed in the bloody struggle for the throne, which drove him to wade once more into the bloody power struggle.

“That year, when Lord Su returned to the capital from Annam and discovered clues about the merchant case, Lords Liu and Su became bitterly opposed. But… the friendship between these two lords was known to everyone in the palace.”

Su Jin could not bring herself to move against Liu Chaoming, and Liu Yun—how could he bring himself to be ruthless toward Su Shiyu?

With both of them hesitating like this, matters dragged on until September.

In September of the third year of Jin’an, Zhu Nanxian was about to return triumphantly to the capital. If they waited any longer, Zhu Yushen and Liu Yun’s faction would only end in complete failure.

It was precisely because Zhu Yushen had calculated this point that he went to beseech Qi Boyuan to lend his assistance.

In truth, Qi Boyuan did not immediately agree. To him, Liu Yun, Su Shiyu, Zhu Nanxian, and Zhu Yushen were all descendants of old friends. A lifetime of intellectual friendship had been trampled worthless by the imperial heart. A bellyful of brilliant scholarly learning had ended up as mere diversion for composing poetry behind closed doors. After his daughter Qi Yu died of illness, these few younger generation members were probably his last remaining tie to this absurd mortal world.

Though, as if it were predestined, he had long anticipated they would eventually reach a day of mutual destruction.

Until Zhu Yushen said, “If my mentor is willing to help me, in the future I will not only spare Su Shiyu’s life, but will also reserve a place for her in this court.”

Hearing these words, the light that had dimmed in Qi Boyuan’s eyes suddenly brightened.

But he soon laughed at himself inwardly. Having lived to become an old bag of bones, did he still want to seek perfection in all things? Had he not learned to look past the red dust, past life and death?

“Ayu is a woman. That fact alone is enough to condemn her to death without a burial place. You hold such leverage over her—do you still care about her life? Moreover, you are someone who cherishes talent. If the throne becomes yours in the future, keeping her in the court would be far more sophisticated than killing her. This old man doesn’t need you to protect Ayu. If you want to request this old man’s assistance, then promise this old man something else.”

Zhu Yushen bowed deeply. “Please speak, mentor.”

“This old man wants you to preserve the life of Emperor Jin’an, and promise that for the rest of your life until you die, whether forced or voluntary, you will never move to kill him, and cannot cause him to lose his life because of you.”

If Zhu Yushen wanted to seize the throne, the first person he should kill was Zhu Nanxian. Qi Boyuan’s demand sounded utterly absurd at first hearing, but Zhu Yushen seemed unsurprised—if his mentor didn’t have this compassionate temperament, he would have died long ago under Zhu Jingyuan’s butcher’s blade during the purge of meritorious officials. How could he have safely lived to this day?

“May this student know the reason why mentor asks this student to make such a promise?”

Qi Boyuan’s gaze fell outside the window as he laughed once. “Have you not already calculated that this old man is compassionate?”

However, if examined closely, compassion for heaven and pity for people was still different from universal salvation.

Qi Boyuan was someone who had waded through the whirlpool of imperial power struggles. He could admit that if the person on the throne today were Zhu Minda or Zhu Zhaowei, he probably wouldn’t care about their lives. But Zhu Nanxian was too different from his brothers.

Years ago, when Zhu Jingyuan insisted on betrothing Qi Yu to Zhu Jiyou, Qi Boyuan begged fruitlessly and finally could only entreat the late empress for help.

That day, Zhu Nanxian, still a youth, stood at the late empress’s side, watching this white-haired uncle weep in desperation out of love for his daughter, and joined the late empress in pleading, “Marquis, don’t be anxious. I will join mother empress in beseeching father emperor to not marry Elder Sister Qi Yu to third brother.”

This happened precisely one year after the purge of meritorious officials.

The palace blood had not yet been washed clean. Every official and royal descendant lived in terror. Who didn’t know that Emperor Jingyuan’s arranged marriage between Zhu Jiyou and Qi Yu was simply meant to use a less outstanding son to control Qi Boyuan, this old minister of tremendous merit?

Who dared touch this ill omen?

Later, only the late empress brought the thirteenth prince to plead, though it was ultimately in vain.

Qi Boyuan knew then that among Zhu Jingyuan’s sons, though there were many outstanding ones, most were ruthless and unfathomable characters. The one who was decisive and clear-minded, sincere and upright, who valued loyalty and righteousness—there was only Zhu Nanxian. Unfortunately, with such a temperament, born into the imperial family and as a legitimate son, he would truly suffer in the future.

Calling his thoughts back from the past, Qi Boyuan said, “Your bid for the throne is itself a great gamble. Favorable timing, advantageous terrain, and harmonious relationships—you cannot lack any of these. If you hadn’t reached a point of life and death today, you wouldn’t have come to request this old man’s assistance. And this old man has only this one condition: preserve Zhu Jin’an.”

Concealing one’s abilities, enduring humiliation and bearing heavy burdens, being cold-hearted and unfeeling, possessing heroic talent and great strategy—Zhu Jingyuan truly had good fortune to have sired Zhu Yushen, a son who was so like him yet also so unlike him.

One could only hope that in the future he would be magnanimous and capable of what ancient and present emperors could not achieve—that his heart would have room for the realm, for the myriad people, and also for his own brother’s foothold.

Deep into the night, dust storms rose again in the northwest. The celebrating soldiers were drunk and spirited, engaging in drinking games.

In the military tent, having finished listening to Que Wu’s words, Zhu Nanxian held his wine bowl in silence.

Que Wu said, “Your Majesty of Jin’an, as this humble general has stated, Your Majesty made a promise to Marquis Wenyuan beforehand and will preserve your life no matter what. He sent this humble general to the northwest merely because he harbored a question in his heart.”

He paused. “His Majesty wishes to ask you—are you willing to return to the capital?”

Zhu Nanxian’s heart stirred slightly. Return to the capital?

“Return to the capital, then take Lord Su away from these court disputes. In the future, sail the rivers and seas, go to the ends of the earth, and never return again.”

In the tent, the firelight blazed intensely, reflecting off the gleaming wine jar and casting bright light.

Though Zhu Nanxian could drink, he wasn’t fond of alcohol. This person, aside from being somewhat flamboyant in his youth and somewhat arrogant, truly had no other faults. Having walked through crushing trials to reach this day, even that initial bit of proud spirit was nearly completely restrained.

He picked up the wine jar and poured himself a bowl, tilting his head back to drain it in one gulp.

The wine was truly strong, threatening to ignite smoke and mist in his throat.

The empty wine bowl reflected his eyes. After a long while, Zhu Nanxian laughed once. “I once asked her, is being a censor truly good…”

That was in the twenty-fourth year of Jingyuan, when he returned to the capital from Nanchang and she came back from her inspection tour.

At that time, she answered: setting things right, maintaining inner clarity, no longer living in muddle-headed days.

He firmly remembered every word she said.

Even then he knew she had found the path she should walk in this life.

Therefore, later when he fell into hardship, became the crown prince of the Eastern Palace, and finally ascended the throne as emperor, he never once thought of confining her in the rear palace, confining her at his side.

“I’ve heard she has returned to the capital again, wearing the crimson robe, serving as Left Chief Censor, thoroughly investigating the military farm cases throughout the realm…”

In the cup, the last bit of remaining wine floated and rippled, as if reflecting her gentle smile.

She always smiled like this—not particularly joyful, but sincere to the bone.

So what would be the point of him going back?

His Ayu had never been an ordinary woman.

If she were to remove her crimson robe and wander distant lands with him, even if they could remain together, having unfulfilled ambitions in her heart would surely leave lifelong regret.

Zhu Nanxian felt somewhat rueful, unable to conceive of any perfect solution.

Perhaps he was just this kind of person—never able to be as decisive and calculating as Liu Yun and Zhu Yushen, never able to be as resourceful and clever as Qingyue and Ayu. He could only do well what lay before him. As a prince, he brought prosperity to his region. As a general, he protected the borders. Ascending as emperor, he guarded the nation and the people. And in this lifetime, having loved only this one person, whether climbing to the peak or falling to the valley, he loved her well throughout.

“I… won’t return.” Zhu Nanxian said.

The fire ignited by the aged wine burned all the way to his throat, to his lungs, to his heart.

He had fought his entire life, yet could not give her a wedding ceremony. He could only let her follow her own wishes, walking the future path in the way she most desired.

At least let that crimson robe not be like a vermilion wedding dress—a fleeting bloom.

He glanced at the weapon wrapped in black cloth behind Que Wu.

Having been an emperor himself, how could he fail to see through Zhu Yushen’s intentions?

But none of this mattered anymore.

“Go tell Zhu Yushen that I will hold the northwest. Please ask him to let Ayu remain at court with peace of mind, to properly serve as a censor.”