Tents sprouted across the grounds of Baiya Palace, looking like mushrooms after rain when viewed from the palace heights. General Chikuang would personally lead five thousand soldiers to station here.
“Master, is the King distrustful of you? Is this meant to be house arrest?”
Chihu wasn’t the only one harboring such thoughts. The fact that General Chikuang personally led troops made Sheng Fengze’s guards extremely nervous. The palace gates of Baiya Palace remained tightly shut. The subordinates loyal to the White King had even prepared themselves for a last stand.
Sheng Fengze rubbed his temples, not bothering to clarify this misunderstanding, allowing Chihu to busily arrange various security measures throughout the palace with his characteristic impetuousness.
He understood clearly. Once news of Ji Yingying’s death spread, Yang Jingyuan would certainly risk breaking into Baiya Palace. Whether alive or dead, he would need to see her. Even with thousands of troops and layers of traps, given Yang Jingyuan’s personality, he wouldn’t give up.
Given Du Yan’s shrewdness, once he understood the Crown Prince’s intentions, he would have held back. Yet Chikuang’s five thousand men arrived at Baiya Palace after just one day. Who exactly had persuaded Du Yan? Who had placed this dilemma before him?
Bougainvillea bloomed fiercely in the back garden, clusters burning like flames. The white walls and red flowers were surrounded by mist rising from the mountaintop hot springs, creating a scene like something from the realm of immortals.
As dusk fell and moonlight gradually brightened, lotus lanterns lit up in the pool. Sheng Fengze reclined alone against soft cushions, lifting hot wine from the hot spring pool and taking small sips.
The wine was the famous Jiannanchun from Yizhou Prefecture, known for its lingering strength. He seemed somewhat drunk, eyes half-closed, murmuring, “It’s so similar…”
The twinkling lights reflected off the water, the moonlight serene, the stars brilliant. He recalled the Lantern Festival years ago, the lake lit by Sanhua Tower in Yizhou City.
Only the bustling crowds and companionship of a beauty were missing.
He opened his eyes and looked toward the flowering trees: “Since you’re here, care for a drink?”
The trees rustled, and Yang Jingyuan emerged in black clothes, sword in hand.
Sheng Fengze pulled out a wine jar from the water and tossed it to him.
Yang Jingyuan raised his sword, skillfully catching the jar with his scabbard. He lowered his hand, and the jar rolled into the grass.
“Afraid it’s poisoned?”
“Not worthy of drinking.”
After a moment of silence, Sheng Fengze laughed: “I remember when I first met you in Yizhou Prefecture, you were just a pampered young noble. Today, Nanzhao has five thousand elite troops waiting in formation. The Northern Army feinted an attack on Zitong, hiding in the forests. It was you who struck night after night, taking commanders’ heads as easily as reaching into a bag. Finally, you made the Northern Army panic, their morale scattered, retreating from the forest, only to be ambushed by Tang forces in the open river valley, leading to total annihilation.”
Yang Jingyuan had no interest in idle chat: “Where is Yingying?”
“I’m not surprised you could sneak through the camp of five thousand men to reach Baiya Palace. Nor am I surprised you could evade my guards’ eyes and ears. But aren’t you curious why only I am here, with no ambush?”
“Where is Ji Yingying? You and I both know she couldn’t have died in that fire.”
He had escaped through the roof, and even if Sheng Fengze were a fool, he would have known to take her out of the fire through the roof. When Yang Jingyuan heard news of Ji Yingying’s death, he never believed it.
Hiding in Han Fourth’s house, he watched as endless troops surrounded Baiya Palace below. Yang Jingyuan knew that once discovered, his chances of escaping alive were slim. Even when Han Fourth brought up Master Shu, trying to persuade him with matters of state to leave Nanzhao with the terrain maps, Yang Jingyuan still chose to climb the mountain to enter the palace. The first time, he had lacked confidence and left her alone in Baiya Palace. The second time, he chose patience and left her with the Zhao family. This time, he couldn’t abandon her again.
“She’s dead. I dug her grave and buried her myself,” Sheng Fengze said, drinking deeply from his wine jar.
With a sharp crack, the wine jar shattered under Yang Jingyuan’s sword, which now appeared at Sheng Fengze’s throat, reflecting the cold moonlight.
Sheng Fengze tilted his face up to look at him and laughed softly. He pulled open his collar and said quietly, “Move your sword forward three inches, and I can go see her. Go ahead.”
The wine’s aroma and the hot spring’s steam hit his face, his drunkenness growing deeper, his expression showing complete indifference to life or death.
Yang Jingyuan withdrew his sword and yanked him up from the ground: “Where is she buried?”
“You want to see her whether alive or dead, is that it? Why should I tell you?”
Yang Jingyuan’s fist struck him.
Sheng Fengze bent over coughing, laughing between coughs: “I can’t beat you in a fight, so why resist?” He stood unsteadily and said bitterly, “Fine, you frightened the Northern Army. You frightened me too. I’m afraid that even under heavy guard, you’ll still escape. For revenge, you’ll become a ghost assassin haunting the Nanzhao court. So, I set no ambush. I want to make a deal with you.”
“In that case, I’ll take her and leave Nanzhao. Otherwise, the Northern Army’s fear will reappear in Taihe City,” Yang Jingyuan threatened in return.
“I remember there was once a magistrate who encountered two women fighting over a child. He ordered them each to grab one of the child’s hands, saying whoever could pull the child to their side would be declared the mother. The child was young and cried out in pain from being pulled. One woman let go, unable to bear it. Yet the magistrate awarded the child to her, saying only a true mother would feel such pain for her weak child.” Sheng Fengze stood straight, pointing at his nose with drink-clouded eyes and laughing loudly, “Don’t forget, Ji Yingying is your wife. I am Nanzhao royalty, the King’s brother. Between a woman and duty to country, do you think I’m some romantic fool?”
The implication was clear: Ji Yingying is in my hands. I’m using her to threaten you – what can you do besides surrender your sword?
Yang Jingyuan fell silent.
With his martial skills, he might be able to escape into the forest under cover of darkness despite the heavy guard. But with Ji Yingying in tow, that would be impossible.
“She’s still alive.”
“She’s dead.”
“You think I’ll believe you?”
“Just like in Yizhou City, what can you do to me?”
The words stirred up both old and new hatred in Yang Jingyuan, but rather than exploding in rage as Sheng Fengze expected, he withdrew his sword: “What exactly do you want?”
“Leave Nanzhao the same way you came. I might as well tell you, that Nanzhao has strengthened guards at all border crossings. If you’re caught after leaving Baiya Palace, you can only blame your insufficient skills. One day, if you lead armies to attack Nanzhao, I will meet you on the battlefield to settle this matter of life and death.”
Yang Jingyuan turned away, stepping across the lotus lanterns in the pool and vanishing once more into the shadows of the flowers.
Sheng Fengze stood by the pool, and once certain Yang Jingyuan had left, the drunkenness vanished from his eyes. He spoke softly toward the hot spring pool: “Come out.”
The lotus lanterns in the pool suddenly wavered as twelve guards, including Chihu, emerged from the pool’s edges holding lanterns and nets. Breathing tubes had been hidden in the lanterns, concealed by the steam and darkness, completely escaping Yang Jingyuan’s notice.
Only Chihu remained behind, wiping water from his face and exclaiming about their close call: “If he had stepped on us, he would have discovered the truth.”
Sheng Fengze glanced at him and asked, “Regret soaking in the hot spring all night without taking action?”
Chihu chuckled: “How could I guess Master’s intentions?”
Sheng Fengze nodded toward the hot spring pool.
Chihu looked over in confusion and shivered violently.
Only a few scattered lanterns remained by the pool’s edge. When Yang Jingyuan had crossed the pool stepping on lotus lanterns, he had somehow sliced all the lanterns in half with his sword – except for those hiding the twelve guards.
Chihu’s mouth filled with bitterness as if chewing on bitter herbs.
“If he stayed in Nanzhao, I feared he would leave not a single official alive in Taihe City,” Sheng Fengze sighed deeply. Yang Jingyuan had discovered the ambush but hadn’t exposed it. How could he not have been considering Ji Yingying? In the end, he still used her to force Yang Jingyuan away.
Late that night, the lights flickered and went dark in Han Fourth’s stone courtyard in the mountain hollow. Four people entered the mountains, following the hunting trail Sheng Fengze had used to send Ji Yingying away, heading toward Great Tang.
On the road, Sang Fourteen asked Yang Jingyuan: “Is Second Lady Ji still alive? Why didn’t you capture Sheng Fengze to exchange for her?”
Yang Jingyuan grunted in affirmation and said: “Baiya Palace is surrounded by Chikuang’s soldiers. Chikuang wouldn’t yield to my threats over Sheng Fengze’s life. And Sheng Fengze feared I would go mad and kill every official in the Nanzhao court. He preferred to trade Ji Yingying’s safety for my departure from Nanzhao.”
So even with his sword at Sheng Fengze’s throat, he wouldn’t reveal Ji Yingying’s whereabouts. And with the ambush in the pool, Yang Jingyuan hadn’t been completely confident and dared not act.
Once again, he had been forced to leave her behind. When he returned, he would dig up every inch of Nanzhao to find her.
As dawn broke and the east brightened, Yang Jingyuan stood at the mountain peak looking back. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted: “Yingying, wait for me! Wait for me to bring you home!”
The echo lingered as sunlight fell on Yang Jingyuan’s face, his gaze steady and determined.