She was very light — even lying on top of him, a moderate push would send her aside. Her current fearlessness was nothing more than having gauged that he would not bear to harm her.

Ye Tingyan stared hard at her, trying to bend his lips into a smile, but no smile came.

Luowei straightened and glanced toward the curtain — at this moment, how could her heart not be anxious? But the more one was in such moments, the more one had to maintain an air of calm composure. The slightest sign of panic and this entire gambit would have been played in vain.

She was pressing her lips together, about to say another word to provoke him, when Ye Tingyan, seizing the moment she looked down, suddenly reached up and grabbed her by the throat. He turned over in one fluid motion and pushed her all the way back against the bookcase.

She had no idea where he found such strength — she was completely caught off guard. A flash shot through Luowei’s mind of the moment he had loosed that arrow in the Muochun arena, and she inwardly cursed herself for underestimating him. He looked like nothing more than a frail scholar, but he never left his sword, so his martial skills were certainly not poor.

But the scene before her was not yet out of control — after all, she could feel that the hand Ye Tingyan had around her throat was not applying any force.

All expression had drained completely from Ye Tingyan’s face. Now there was only a blank emptiness. He exerted slight pressure, then quickly released his hand. Both eyes were bloodshot, as if about to shed tears — or perhaps that was only her imagination.

If he pressed any harder and left red marks on her neck, it would be difficult to explain away.

Luowei seized the hand at her throat with one hand, and happened to touch the scar on his wrist. Suddenly her heart clenched for a moment. She swallowed, maintaining her composure, and took hold of his other hand, guiding it to rest on one of the books in the bookcase.

Ye Tingyan understood her meaning — this was the mechanism to open the hidden chamber.

Luowei’s eyes curved as she smiled, maintaining the pretense of calm composure: “You should think carefully — this hidden chamber will be opened by your own hand. I gave you a choice.”

“In this world of mortals, fame, wine and pleasure, prestige and power — which of them is not fleeting as smoke? Who values you, who truly understands you, who is worthy of your devoted efforts, who can help you redress your grievances, who can help you write a legacy that endures for all eternity?”

In that moment, he was certain he saw the flame of ambition burning in her eyes.

“Fine birds choose their trees with care,” Luowei said word by word. “Though I cannot compare myself to the great sages of old, set against him, at least I have the magnanimity to offer you a worthy end. That night, the blade that fell to the ground — if it had been in his hands, what do you suppose would have happened?”

Her smile deepened: “No — do you even have the courage to hand a blade to him? You don’t — because before you even drew the blade, you had already guessed the outcome!”

Ye Tingyan finally laughed — though he laughed at himself. He had already known perfectly well that she was entirely different from before, yet how was it that he still, again and again and again, ended up in the palm of her hand?

“What do you want?” He had already found the old book with his hand. Barely suppressing the rampaging demons in his heart, he asked in a voice full of resentment: “The realm?”

Luowei did not answer him directly. The situation was urgent, and she only managed to respond with a single sentence: “This is his story, his realm. I… refuse to accept it.”

Even as she spoke those words, Ye Tingyan shifted the old book. Luowei, quick of eye and hand, broke free from his grasp. Just as she had done the last time, she gave him a single push into the hidden chamber and immediately returned the old book to its place.

The bookcase slowly shifted, emitting a dull, heavy sound. Ye Tingyan tumbled to the floor and looked back at her with reddened eyes — in the light that had not yet been blocked, this time she saw it clearly: there were indeed tears in his eyes.

His lips trembled, as if he wanted to say something. He even raised his hand — a gesture that resembled a plea for rescue. But there was nothing she could do to help; she could only stand frozen in place, watching helplessly as the light falling on his face receded further and further away.

In the end, he was swallowed into total darkness.

There was no time to think of anything else. Luowei came to her senses and quickly left the inner chamber, rushed to the bronze mirror, and by the light of the moon tidied her disheveled hair, then fastened her collar.

She felt her fingers were icy, trembling incessantly — she should have been happy. Everything had gone according to her will. From scheming against Yu Qiushi to bringing Ye Tingyan to heel, it had been risky, yet it had all gone this smoothly. After today, he would become the most useful blade she had planted at Song Lan’s side.

Even if her earlier guesses had been off, it did not matter — as long as he came to understand that she was a better master than Song Lan, everything could be discussed afterward.

But why this palpitation of the heart?

She straightened everything and sat listlessly before the dressing table. Closing her eyes, she could still picture his expression as the hidden chamber door closed — he had accepted her coercion, yet reached out as if seeking rescue. Why would he seek rescue?

Just as in the mountains near Xiuqing Temple, he had tugged at his sleeve and pleaded with her “don’t leave.” And on the night below the flower lattice window when he handed her the blade, and in the open sky above the back hills of Luoyun, when he heard the sound of blades cutting the wind, he had only closed his eyes.

How much of this feeling of his was real, and how much was false?

She instinctively gripped the icy hairpin on the table, and it was only when she heard the sound of the hall door being pushed open that she looked down.

What she was clutching was the rose-gold hairpin Song Lan had given her that day.

Blood-red, golden-bright — cold and beautiful.

Song Lan pushed the door open and came in. Seeing that she had not yet gone to sleep but was sitting before the dressing table, he was somewhat taken aback. He walked a couple of steps toward her, then turned to look back.

The attendants who had accompanied him immediately understood his meaning. Shortly thereafter, Luowei heard the sound of armor clanking — Song Lan had apparently dismissed everyone to a distance of ten steps outside the hall.

Luowei released the gold hairpin in her hand and set it in the dressing box, then rose and bowed to Song Lan: “Your Majesty.”

Song Lan came forward to help her up, and asked with his usual gentleness: “Why hasn’t Elder Sister gone to sleep yet?”

Luowei said: “I was waiting for you.”

Song Lan momentarily doubted his own hearing: “You…”

“Does Your Majesty not always suspect me?” Luowei laughed and interrupted him. “You had that Lord Ye investigate me again and again, and the Imperial Guards, the physicians, even the inner attendants — all of them were investigated and yet you were still not at ease. I truly could not bear to watch you go on suspecting me like this, so I chose someone you had sent to watch me and had him deliver a message to you.”

Song Lan’s gaze turned cold for a moment, though his mouth said: “Elder Sister has informants within the Forest Guard too — that really makes me see you in a new light.”

Luowei sighed, reached out and touched his cheek, feigning a sorrowful expression as she said: “Is it not all for the sake of curing you of this anxiety of yours?”

She took his hand and led him around the entire hall: “Your Majesty, since you have come today, look carefully — look and see whether this place holds the person you have been imagining.”

Song Lan was about to decline, but heard Luowei continue: “When we were young, I used to lead you around like this too — bringing you to banquets, to admire flowers, to go hunting. When we first met, you were not even as tall as me. Nowadays you are nearly twenty, and almost catching up to your elder brother.”

His heart suddenly softened — but upon hearing the words “elder brother,” he felt a constriction in his chest and a surge of complicated feelings. In a moment of distraction, Luowei had already led him into the inner chamber.

After entering the room, Song Lan first knelt before the Buddha and kowtowed.

Luowei stood behind him and said warmly: “Zi Lan is more devout than I am.”

Song Lan knelt on the ground for a long time. Seeing him silent, Luowei too fell silent — until the candleflame flickered, and Song Lan came back to himself. As if he had finally made up his mind about something, he turned to face her and said: “Grand Preceptor Yu is dead. Weiwei, do you have anything you wish to say to me?”

Luowei wandered unhurriedly to the couch and sat down, smiling as she replied: “What can I say? Is it not rather for me to ask what Your Majesty wishes to hear?”

Song Lan smiled: “What use is asking me? You would not tell me the truth anyway — just like this inner chamber. I have come here many times, and you are utterly fearless — do you really think I cannot see that there is more to this place than meets the eye?”

He raised his voice. Luowei opened her mouth and let out an “ah” — then rose, stepped forward, and turned the lotus phoenix-marrow candle. With the sound of a mechanism, the wall behind the couch swung open, revealing yet another hidden chamber!

Song Lan shot to his feet at once, peered inside, and found it entirely empty — no sign of any person whatsoever.

He stepped closer and sat down beside Luowei, drawing her into his arms. His tone suddenly softened: “Elder Sister, I… I am just too afraid. Just like in those years… All these years I have often had nightmares, dreaming that you abandoned me and left, that no matter how I called out to you, you would not turn back to look at me.”

Luowei murmured in a soothing tone: “How could that be?”

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. The two had not been intimate for a long time. Song Lan’s eyelashes trembled faintly and he took advantage of the moment to press her down before the couch: “He is dead — you need no longer be troubled by the unceasing disputes of court affairs. I have said it before: you are my family. I do not even care what is in your heart. As long as you and I can be as we are now, I will give you anything.”

Luowei closed her eyes and said: “I know.”

She brought her lips close to his ear and murmured softly: “The Yu clan has been eliminated, Yu Suishan has died — what is to be done about Shu Kang?”

“Though the two of you have had your disagreements, you still care about each other in the end,” Song Lan whispered back. “There is something you do not know: tonight, the Prince Consort took his own life — which is for the best. Had he lived, I truly would not have known how to treat Imperial Elder Sister Shu Kang.”

Luowei pressed her advantage: “Then let me ask a favor of Your Majesty — Shu Kang is not suitable to remain in the capital. Grant her an additional title and send her away from the capital.”

Song Lan propped himself up and looked at her directly. The warmth in his eyes diminished considerably. The two gazed at each other for a long moment before he said meaningfully: “Very well — but I too have a troublesome matter, and I ask Elder Sister’s help.”

Luowei asked: “What matter?”

Song Lan said: “General Yanshao has been lingering in the capital for a long time. I fear Youzhou may grow unsettled. I have thought it over, and I think it best he return soon.”

Luowei lowered her eyes and said nothing for a moment.

Her feigned show of weakness today, her heartfelt conversation with him, had been intended in the first place only to temporarily restrain his eagerness to consolidate power — and to claim a favor amid the warmth. Song Lan and Song Yaofeng were not close; moreover, she was Song Ling’s full-blooded younger sister. In those years, had she not married into the Yu family, she might well have met the same end as Song Qi.

Now that the Yu clan had fallen, and knowing that he himself could not survive, Yu Suiyun had preserved her through his own death. Song Lan had thus lost his pretext for dealing with Song Yaofeng.

She wanted to send her away from the capital — precisely because she feared that one day Song Lan, on a whim, might think of Song Yaofeng again.

Song Lan had understood her meaning: he wanted her to pressure Yan Lang into leaving the capital, as a trade.

Yan Lang had a pretext for returning to the capital, yet Song Lan understood his true motive perfectly well — he had come back to protect her. To protect her from being discarded like a hunting dog after the death of Yu Qiushi.

As long as he remained in the capital, Luowei held a bargaining chip.

That was why he had dragged his feet and delayed returning to Beiyou. Song Lan understood his thoughts and had placed him under house arrest — which was merely to reduce contact between the two of them as much as possible.

Youzhou was still at peace. The Yan clan’s ancestral estates were in the capital. He had no reason to issue an order of expulsion.

As long as Yan Lang left the capital, even if the two were someday truly to face each other across battle lines, Youzhou was far from the seat of imperial power, and he would have no time to act.

In other words, if Luowei agreed to this transaction, she would be exchanging her own support and backing for Song Yaofeng’s safety — and also pledging her allegiance to him. Yu Qiushi had only just died; the court was tilting. This was the moment she needed him most.

Song Lan watched Luowei’s gaze flicker and shift. Finally she raised her head, and with perfect serenity, gave her assent.

“Very well.”