Zhu Yu – Chapter 163

It was a rare day without snow, with the sun providing a warm glow.

Fan Changyu stood outside the palace gates, holding her sword. She gazed at the bare tree branches stretching freely beyond the courtyard walls. The slanting sunlight cast a warm glow on this side, while a layer of white snow still covered the distant wall tops and withered branches. As the sunlight scattered down, it diffused a faint golden hue, yet the air remained bitingly cold and damp.

Yu Qianqian entered the inner hall carrying a soup tureen.

Qi Min seemed to know she would come today. Unable to get out of bed due to his injuries, he was sitting propped up on the couch, with a dark purple robe with silver-gray accents draped over his shoulders. In the bright light by the window, the silver-gray on his clothes faintly revealed patterns of auspicious clouds and ruyi scepters.

His hair appeared to have been groomed as well. Despite being bedridden with severe injuries for many days, he showed no signs of uncleanliness. It remained as it had always been – black, shiny, and smooth as satin.

Only his body had grown much thinner, seeming almost unable to fill out his clothes.

Yu Qianqian glanced at him briefly before averting her gaze and continuing forward with the soup tureen.

Qi Min heard her footsteps but didn’t turn his head. He watched two birds foraging in the courtyard where the snow had melted, his hand resting on the blanket, idly fiddling with the ring on his finger. His finger bones were long and slender like bamboo joints, but alarmingly pale and thin, making one worry that if he were to grip something too tightly, the joints might break under the strain.

No one spoke. The only sound was the faint clinking as Yu Qianqian ladled soup into a fine white porcelain bowl.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” Qi Min said.

Yu Qianqian turned from the table, holding the bowl of soup, to find him looking at her. His gaze was still dark and brooding, like a vulture on a cliff or a venomous snake emerging from hibernation to hunt.

Yu Qianqian’s lips curved into a gentle smile, but her eyes remained clear and fearless as she looked directly at him. “I had to come personally to send you off on this final journey.”

Qi Min looked at the bowl of soup in her hands, his dark eyes swirling with indecipherable emotions. “You even went to the trouble of making a bowl of snow frog soup. How thoughtful.”

Yu Qianqian smiled. “Even a death row prisoner in jail gets a last meal before heading to the execution ground, don’t they?”

She was sharp-tongued, her smile not reaching her eyes.

Qi Min gazed at her silently. “I didn’t know you had such a clever tongue.”

She feared pain, trouble, and death. She was obedient, seemingly without her own opinions, honest and straightforward. But beneath this facade, she hid an extremely wild heart, otherwise, she wouldn’t have attempted to escape multiple times.

Each time she was caught and brought back, she never became hysterical. She would eat, drink, and sleep as usual, never doing anything to harm herself. She endured all the punishments he gave her, making people think she had become docile. But if given another chance, she would run away again without looking back.

This radiant version of her was one he had never seen before.

Yu Qianqian stirred the soup with a spoon and said, “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

Unwilling to waste more words with him, she asked directly, “You hate the Sui family so much, yet the Crown Princess used a great fire in the Eastern Palace to turn you into the Sui family’s eldest son. Why?”

Qi Min looked at her without speaking, seemingly finding her coldness somewhat unfamiliar.

Yu Qianqian met his gaze calmly. “This empire belongs to your Qi family. It was your father who died in Jinzhou back then. Now that you’re about to condemn the Sui and Wei families, surely you don’t still want to conceal anything for your enemies?”

Hearing the faint mockery in her tone, Qi Min looked at her for a while longer before averting his gaze and slowly saying, “Among the shadow guards my father left me, there was one called Fu Qing. He escaped from Jinzhou City back then. When reinforcements and supplies failed to arrive for a long time, my father sent him to Chongzhou to seek aid. Sui Tuo refused to send troops and even tried to kill him with a volley of arrows, saying that once Jinzhou fell, the empire would change its surname to Wei.”

Yu Qianqian’s expression showed subtle changes, but she remained silent as Qi Min continued to reveal the hidden truths of the past, his voice devoid of emotion.

“Fu Qing was originally from the Green Forest, known for his lightness skills. He barely escaped the slaughter at the Prince of Changxin’s mansion but was severely injured. While dragging his wounded body to seek help and report elsewhere, Jinzhou had already fallen. My father and Xie Linshan both died in battle. Knowing the situation was lost, he rushed back to the capital to report. By then, the capital was already under Wei Yan’s control. The news of his secret communication with Consort Su to massacre the palace had reached my mother in the Eastern Palace. With Fu Qing’s testimony, she became increasingly fearful.”

“Later, the loss of Jinzhou was entirely blamed on General Meng Suyuan of Changshan. When some of Meng’s old subordinates came to the Eastern Palace to plead for justice, they entered the gates only to become corpses in a pool of blood moments later. The Meng family, from daughter to son-in-law to old retainers, were all killed.”

At this point, Qi Min’s lips curled in mockery and coldness. “The Eastern Palace knew Wei Yan’s secret. He wouldn’t spare the Eastern Palace. Before Wei Yan could make his move, my mother used a great fire to hide me away in the Prince of Changxin’s mansion.”

This was the past that had been suffocating him for over a decade.

He smiled faintly at Yu Qianqian. “You see, only by being ruthless enough can one obtain everything they desire. My mother said Wei Yan had always harbored wolfish ambitions. In the past, when the former emperor favored the Sixteenth Prince and suppressed my father at every turn, all the officials in the Eastern Palace were scheming how to help my father regain favor and secure his position as heir apparent. Only Wei Yan suggested, why not have the emperor ‘abdicate’?”

He paused, a moment of bewilderment crossing his face. “If Wei Yan had been eliminated then, perhaps none of this would have happened later. My father was too indecisive, which led to his downfall. What use is a reputation for virtue? I won’t become someone like him.”

Yu Qianqian said coldly, “What nonsense! You’ve committed all sorts of beastly acts, and now you’re trying to find a noble excuse for yourself!”

Qi Min didn’t anger, only staring at her and saying, “You look much better when you’re cursing than when you were obedient before.”

Yu Qianqian frowned fiercely, feeling that sensation of a cold, venomous snake coiling against her skin again. She made no effort to hide her disgust. “Madman!”

Her seemingly frightened appearance seemed to please Qi Min, making him chuckle softly.

Feeling annoyed, Yu Qianqian stood up to leave. He stopped laughing and called out to her softly, “Since you’ve already prepared the soup, why don’t you feed it to me? Don’t waste your efforts.”

His injuries were severe, and he couldn’t get out of bed. He needed assistance with all daily activities. To prevent any accidents, Xie Zheng had even ordered someone to give him a bone-softening powder. Yu Qianqian meeting him alone posed no danger.

Yu Qianqian turned to look at him. He was leaning against soft pillows, his expression very calm, as if unaware that the soup contained a lethal poison. His long, narrow eyes caught the sunlight, contrasting with his pale skin that seemed as if it might melt in the sun. For a moment, he appeared gentle and fragile.

Seeing Yu Qianqian not responding, he smiled at her again, seemingly deliberately: “Can’t bear it?”

Yu Qianqian sat back down and used the spoon to scoop up some of the now-cooled snow frog soup, bringing it to his lips.

Her expression was calm to the point of coldness, and his face showed no emotion. As he tasted it, he commented, “The cooking time was just right, but it’s a pity it’s cooled down a bit.”

Yu Qianqian said nothing, only scooping up another spoonful to feed him.

He looked at her as he continued to open his mouth and drink.

This moment of tranquility didn’t seem like one person was trying to kill the other, but rather like a couple in love.

When the bowl was empty, Qi Min smiled and asked, “Is there any more?”

Yu Qianqian said, “There’s half a bowl left in the tureen.”

Qi Min then said, “Feed it all to me.”

A smile still lingered at the corner of his lips, no longer cold, with a hint of nonchalance: “I won’t be able to drink it anymore after this.”

Of course, he wouldn’t be able to drink it anymore. What future did he have?

Yu Qianqian’s hand stirring the spoon paused slightly, but she only said, “Wait.”

When the remaining half bowl of soup from the tureen was finished, Qi Min leaned against the pillow, turning his head slightly to look at Yu Qianqian. He suddenly said, “I investigated you.”

Yu Qianqian raised her eyes to meet his gaze.

He said, “Your name isn’t Qianqian. Your family was poor, with an older brother and three younger siblings. Your parents didn’t give you a name, always calling you Er Ya. You never worked in a restaurant. Your family sold you to a human trafficker to pay for your older brother’s wedding. You were bought by the Zhao family and sent to me.”

Yu Qianqian remained silent.

Perhaps due to the effects of the poison, Qi Min’s lips had taken on a faint purple hue, but his eyes were still stubbornly fixed on Yu Qianqian. With some effort, he said, “I want to know who you are.”

Yu Qianqian still didn’t answer.

He continued on his own: “A wandering ghost? Or… a spirit that has attained enlightenment?”

As his jet-black eyelashes lowered, his eyes, previously like dead water, finally showed some ripples: “Let me… understand clearly before I go.”

Yu Qianqian replied calmly, “The poison is affecting your memory. I am Yu Er Ya. I worked in a restaurant before my family sold me to a human trafficker. Qianqian is the name I gave myself.”

She rose from the stool and even tucked in his blanket: “You’re tired. Sleep now. This poison is gentle; it won’t be too painful. You’ll fall asleep and know nothing more.”

As she was about to leave, that pale, emaciated hand suddenly grabbed her wrist, pulling the unprepared Yu Qianqian off balance and causing her to fall onto him.

Just as Yu Qianqian was about to call out, he forcefully gripped her neck. The dying man somehow found strength, immediately choking Yu Qianqian so she couldn’t make a sound. She tried to pry his arm away but couldn’t budge it. Her fingertips dug deep into the back of his hand, but he seemed to feel no pain. His eyes suddenly flashed with a predatory light, his expression twisted, eyes full of hatred and unwillingness: “I thought myself ruthless, but I can’t compare to you in the slightest! You never liked me at all, did you?”

Yu Qianqian was still struggling, but her face had turned red from lack of oxygen. Unable to break free from his grip, she began to claw at the arrow wound on his chest.

Warm blood coated Yu Qianqian’s fingers, and Qi Min let out a muffled groan, loosening his hold on her.

Yu Qianqian fell to the ground, clutching her throat and gasping for air. At that moment, the door was kicked open, and Fan Changyu, who had heard the commotion outside, rushed in: “Qianqian!”

She helped Yu Qianqian up, her gaze sharp as a blade as she glared at Qi Min.

Yu Qianqian quickly grabbed Fan Changyu’s hand and said, “I’m fine.”

Qi Min leaned against the soft pillows, clutching his chest. His gaunt face had taken on a grayish-blue hue as the poison took effect. He gritted his teeth, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Yu Qianqian, a hint of grievance flashing through them: “You… how dare you treat me like this!”

Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, quickly gushing out in large amounts, staining his clothes and bedding with a large red patch.

Yu Qianqian sat down on the couch, quietly watching Qi Min. Her hair had come undone during the earlier struggle, and the faint flush from the choking had not yet faded from her face. She looked quite disheveled, but her expression remained extremely cold: “Why shouldn’t I treat you like this?”

“Does someone like you deserve to be liked by others?”

“You’re selfish, cruel, vicious, and moody. Everyone has to tiptoe around serving you, with the slightest mistake resulting in death. Yet you expect people to be wholeheartedly grateful for any small favor you bestow. How could there be such a good deal in this world?”

Qi Min’s mouth was full of blood, but his eyes remained fixed on Yu Qianqian, though he could no longer speak.

Yu Qianqian said calmly: “Haven’t enough people died for you? What have you ever done for them besides being suspicious? You were just born into the right family, that’s all.”

Qi Min continued to stare at her unblinkingly, his gaze stubborn and tinged with sorrow.

Yu Qianqian no longer looked at him. She straightened up and said to Fan Changyu: “Let’s go.”

Fan Changyu followed Yu Qianqian out of the room and was about to speak when Yu Qianqian’s legs suddenly gave way. Fortunately, Fan Changyu caught her in time: “Qianqian, what’s wrong?”

Yu Qianqian’s face was pale, no longer showing the composure she had maintained in front of Qi Min. She said, “It’s nothing, I just need a moment.”

Her hand gripping Fan Changyu’s was ice-cold: “Poisoning someone is ultimately different from killing chickens or fish.”

Fan Changyu helped her sit down on the steps and comforted her: “The first time I killed someone, I was so scared I couldn’t sleep all night. Tonight, I’ll bring Ning Niang over to keep you company. I’ve got so much blood on my hands, my aura is heavy with death. Even if he’s a prince, his ghost won’t dare come near me.”

These words sounded like she was comforting a child. The gloom in Yu Qianqian’s heart dissipated a bit, and she chuckled, saying, “That’s right, Changyu, you’re a general now.”

Fan Changyu scratched her head, smiling sheepishly.

The sun’s warmth on their bodies was comforting, and Yu Qianqian’s cold hands and feet slowly regained their warmth. She turned her head to look at the valiant female general beside her. Perhaps it was Qi Min’s final question that had stirred up some other emotions in her heart. She suddenly said, “Changyu, I have a secret.”

“Hmm?” Fan Changyu turned her head. The sunlight fell on her entire body, her eyes and brows filled with a brilliant radiance that inexplicably inspired trust and affection.

Yu Qianqian said, “I’m only telling you.”

Fan Changyu was slightly taken aback, then said very seriously, “I’ll keep your secret.”

Yu Qianqian looked at the swallows flying high and low in the sunset, her gaze becoming distant, with a hint of melancholy: “I came here from a place very, very far away, and I can never go back.”

“How far?”

“If I started walking now, it would take thousands of years to get back there.”

Fan Changyu was shocked: “Then how did you come to the Great Yin Dynasty?”

Yu Qianqian said, “In the time it took to take a nap, I opened my eyes and found myself here.”

Fan Changyu’s expression became a bit strange. She stared at Yu Qianqian for a while, then suddenly said, “Qianqian, are you an immortal?”

Yu Qianqian laughed again: “Could there be an immortal as useless as me in this world?”

She looked at Fan Changyu and said, “You look more like an immortal than I do.”

Suddenly being praised, Fan Changyu felt a bit shy and didn’t know how to respond.

Yu Qianqian said, “Where I come from, there was also a very powerful female general in history, called Liang Yu.”

She turned her head to look at Fan Changyu: “Everything here is not good, but with you and Bao’er, it’s still okay.”

She smiled, her eyes curving: “Thousands of years from now, Changyu will surely be a female general whose name is recorded in history.”

In the winter of the 17th year of Yongping, Grand Tutor Li Xing and Prime Minister Wei Yan attempted to rebel. Li Xing was defeated and died in a hail of arrows, while Wei Yan was captured alive.

A month later, Emperor Qi Sheng died from shock due to the palace coup. The lost descendant of the Crown Prince of Chengde was found among the common people. Although the coronation ceremony had not yet been held, he had already entered the imperial palace with his birth mother, Lady Yu.

In the imperial prison.

The dim candlelight cast two towering shadows on the wall, and the fire in the braziers along the prison corridor blazed brightly, the wood crackling as it burned.

Grand Tutor Tao sighed softly as he placed a piece: “That brat’s father died in Jinzhou. No matter what, he needs an answer about what happened back then.”

His old but lively eyes quietly studied the person across from him, who was a generation younger than himself. With the air of an elder, he sighed and asked, “Yigui, what are you aiming for by bearing the infamy of this lifetime?”

Qi Min was dead. Among his shadow guards, only a few remained, including Fu Qing.

After Xie Zheng’s interrogation, the answer obtained was consistent with what Yu Qianqian had asked.

Thus, the three tiger tallies found in the Sui family’s possession seemed to make sense.

The tiger tallies were real, and so were the troop deployment orders. The Sui family had followed Wei Yan’s orders not to send troops or supplies to aid Jinzhou.

But a new question arose: If the Sui family was in cahoots with Wei Yan, why did they later rebel and only spread rumors about Wei Yan’s involvement in the fall of Jinzhou, instead of directly exposing him?

No matter what others thought, Grand Tutor Tao didn’t believe that Wei Yan had personally planned the Jinzhou incident. However, after Wei Yan’s failed coup, he seemed to have become indifferent to life and death, admitting to all crimes but refusing to speak further about the events of that year.

“The deaths of the Crown Prince and Linshan are my responsibility. I’m not taking the blame for anyone else.”

The oil lamp in the wall niche flickered with a dim yellow light, and the shadow cast by the person in front of the chessboard divided it into light and dark halves.

Wei Yan’s strong index and middle fingers pinched a black piece and placed it on the intersection of the chessboard. His deep voice, made hoarser by age, added a certain weightiness to his words, devoid of emotional fluctuations.

Grand Tutor Tao, however, detected a hint of hidden meaning in his words and raised his wrinkled eyelids: “Because of you and the Qi girl?”

Wei Yan looked at Grand Tutor Tao.

Grand Tutor Tao knew then that this must have been part of the reason. He sighed, “Both children have asked Consort An about it. When you retired from the battlefield and stayed in the capital back then, did you think this old man couldn’t see anything?”

Wei Yan was silent for two breaths, then said, “She was implicated because of me.”

Grand Tutor Tao had visited the imperial prison many times, but each time he couldn’t get much out of Wei Yan. Today, since he was willing to say more, he immediately asked, “What do you mean by that?”

The charcoal in the clay stove burned vigorously, the water in the kettle bubbling and rolling. White mist billowed from the spout, the rising vapor blurring Wei Yan’s features.

For a moment, the powerful minister sitting across from Grand Tutor Tao became the cold and aloof young man who had once made a name for himself in Jinyang with just a single poem.

He closed his eyes: “I was careless in my youth and left room for trouble with my words.”

Grand Tutor Tao’s gaze was stern, but his heart was already sinking slightly.

He had previously told Fan Changyu that Xie Zheng’s temperament was similar to Wei Yan’s when he was young, but that wasn’t entirely true. Xie Zheng, having lost his father at a young age and being strictly disciplined by Wei Yan, had a more steady temperament.

When Wei Yan was young, he wasn’t just spirited; he was almost arrogant.

The Wei family of Jinyang had been a prominent family for hundreds of years, and their children naturally had an extra measure of pride. As the outstanding one of his generation, the arrogance in him was even more pronounced.

He became the third-ranked scholar at the age of seventeen but was unwilling to enter the court as an official early on. Instead, he went to travel famous mountains and great rivers, saying he wanted to continue his studies and cultivate unworldly learning. This angered the Wei family patriarch so much that he had him tied up and sent to the Qi family’s military camp, letting Old General Qi discipline him. It was there that he became close friends with Xie Linshan in the army.

Grand Tutor Tao temporarily suppressed the complexity in his heart and slowly stroked his beard, asking, “What trouble?”

“In the 15th year of Qishun, there was a flood in Jiangnan. The Crown Prince went to provide disaster relief, but the Jia family obstructed it at every turn, delaying the disbursement of relief funds, and resulting in the death of more than half of the disaster victims. The former emperor was furious, but instead of pursuing the faults of the Sixteenth Prince and the Jia family, he blamed the Crown Prince for ineffective disaster relief, ordering him to reflect behind closed doors for three months, with all his subordinates punished. The emperor’s favoritism grew increasingly apparent, and rumors spread in the court that the former emperor intended to change the heir apparent to the Sixteenth Prince. The Crown Prince’s advisors were scheming on his behalf, and I spoke of letting the former emperor ‘abdicate’.”

Even after many years, hearing these words again made Grand Tutor Tao’s face change color. He pointed at Wei Yan, wanting to say something, but in the end only sighed, “You… how foolish!”

If these words had reached the former emperor’s ears, it would have been a disaster for the Crown Prince and the entire Wei family.

But Wei Yan said, “It wasn’t my foolishness, it was the Crown Prince’s indecisiveness.”

His gaze was as stern as a steel blade. With the air of one long in power, he was intimidating without anger, saying coldly, “If he dared to fight for it back then, with the strength of the Qi family and the Xie and Wei families combined, how could he not have been pushed onto that dragon throne?”

Grand Tutor Tao shook his head: “You have to think from the Crown Prince’s position. No matter how much the former emperor favored the Sixteenth Prince, as long as he was still the Crown Prince, that position was ultimately his. To let the former emperor ‘abdicate’, if it failed, it would have been a total loss.”

Wei Yan asked, “What did he end up with in the end?”

As he finished speaking, he let out a cold laugh: “At least he got what he wanted – a virtuous reputation, remembered for generations!”

Grand Tutor Tao heard the resentment and mockery in Wei Yan’s words, but in his heart, he could only sigh helplessly. When the former emperor was still a prince, his position was weak. He married Empress Qi and relied on Old General Qi to ascend to the throne.

But Old General Qi’s prestige in the army was too high. Once he was firmly seated on the dragon throne, the former emperor became wary of the Qi family. However, the Qi family had been loyal for generations, and their children were not wastrels. As an emperor, he couldn’t find a reason to move against the Qi family, so he especially favored his consort and indulged the Jia family to suppress the Qi family.

But how could those involved at the time have seen what was to come?

Grand Tutor Tao’s eyes held a hint of vicissitude: “At this point, don’t play word games with me. What happened back then?”

Outside, it seemed to have started snowing again, with a few flakes drifting in through the skylight.

Wei Yan placed another piece on the chessboard. “From the time the Crown Prince went to Jinzhou and the Sixteenth Prince listened to slanderous advice and went to Luo City, it was already a dead end.”

“The former emperor used Rong Yin as leverage to force me to return to the capital midway so that the blame for the final defeat in Jinzhou could fall entirely on my head. Old General Qi had passed away, and with Xie Linshan, who had taken over the Qi family’s military power, dead, the Wei family of Jinyang became traitors who betrayed the heir apparent and defiled the palace. Wasn’t that enough for everyone to condemn us?”

“Only the Jia family, who had been running rampant for years with his indulgence, remained. What was there to fear? Among the crimes against the Jia family reported by the Censorate over those years, any one of them could have been strictly enforced, and the Jia family’s good days would have been over.”

Grand Tutor Tao’s face was full of vicissitude, unable to utter another word.

A snowflake was carried far by the wind, floating slowly into Wei Yan’s cup, melting instantly.

His cold, deep phoenix eyes were reflected in the rippling water: “Rong Yin’s pregnancy was fake. It was just a trap to lure me in and solidify the charge of defiling the palace. She set fire to Qingyuan Palace to help me escape, saying that as long as the Crown Prince was alive and the Qi family hadn’t fallen, the former emperor wouldn’t do anything to her.”

The corners of his mouth, etched with the traces of time, showed a hint of bitterness: “But I didn’t know at the time that the former emperor had already made foolproof plans to have the Crown Prince die in Jinzhou. Threatening to execute her for treason to force me to return was the last step of the plan.”

“You know what happened after that, Grand Tutor.”

“I was the one who bloodied the palace, and I was the one who pinned the infamy on Meng Suyuan. The former emperor’s plan was indeed meticulous. After the Jinzhou incident, all the evidence pointed to me, and the first to push for my death sentence were Linshan’s old subordinates.”

Grand Tutor Tao’s mouth was full of bitterness. He finally understood why Wei Yan hadn’t mentioned the events of that year – there was… no way to defend himself.

The Crown Prince and Xie Linshan died in Jinzhou, and he went to mobilize troops but returned to the capital halfway, then bloodied the palace. Anyone who heard this would not think Wei Yan was innocent.

Moreover… given his personality, he would never make public the reason for his return to the capital.

It was ultimately because of his guilty conscience that he fell into the trap when the former emperor used Consort Su to scheme against him.

Grand Tutor Tao’s form seemed to slump a bit. Looking at the snowflakes drifting down slowly through the skylight, he sighed heavily and sorrowfully: “What a national calamity…”

A single word of “abdication” sowed the seeds of disaster. The Crown Prince, being gentle, did not adopt it, but due to lax management, it reached the former emperor’s ears. From there, the calamity began.

Looking back at the situation of that year, who should be blamed?

Should Wei Yan be blamed for leaving those fateful words? Should the Crown Prince be blamed for his lax management? Should the Jia family be blamed for their poisonous scheme of building a shrine? Or should the former emperor be blamed for his ruthlessness and cruelty?

It was ultimately the combination of all these factors that led to the bloodshed in Jinzhou.

Later generations desperately sought the truth, but this truth… was truly devastating.

Compared to Grand Preceptor Tao’s sorrowful expression, Wei Yan’s countenance remained as stern and unyielding as ever. “I am not the Crown Prince. If someone wants to kill me, I’ll take them out first to ensure my survival.”

“With the Sui family keeping a low profile for so many years, I didn’t touch them. It was only because, after the fall of Jinzhou, there was no one left on the northern border, and we needed an army to resist the invasion from the Beijue. In the fifteenth year of Emperor Yongping’s reign, I finally forced the Sui family to rebel. I intended to send someone else to suppress the revolt, but the Sui family was one step ahead, letting Xie Zheng catch wind of the true story behind the Jinzhou Massacre. If he had stayed quiet and not pursued the matter, I would have spared his life, following Sister Huan’s dying wishes. But since he insisted on investigating, I had already killed countless members of the Xie clan who were digging into the events of that year. What’s one more to me?”

Grand Preceptor Tao could only stare at him in desolate silence, unable to find words.

Wei Yan’s gaze turned sharper and colder. “On the day of the palace coup, if not for his hidden preparations, he would have been killed at the Meridian Gate, drenched in blood by now. Today, I am in his hands. It’s simply a matter of the victor and the vanquished. I’ll accept my defeat willingly.”

With that, he closed his eyes. Even sitting amid the withered straw, his posture remained upright, solitary, and as immovable as a monolith.

Grand Preceptor Li continued to sit alone for a long time, contemplating the chessboard in front of the two of them. He finally placed the last piece and rose slowly, saying, “This game of chess is finally over…”

Tiny snowflakes floated down from the sky above the courtyard, settling into his hair. In the blink of an eye, his head was covered in white like a crane’s crown.

As he reached the corner, his unsteady steps halted briefly. In a hoarse voice, he asked the young man who had been standing quietly behind the wall, “Did you hear everything?”

The bitter cold enveloped the world outside. Icicles hung from the eaves of the dungeon, reflecting a dull glow in the dim light. A lone figure stood silently by the window, saying nothing.

The torchlight flickering in the narrow corridor illuminated only half of his resolute and pale chin.

The truth, wrapped in layers of blood and scabs, had finally been unearthed. But even though the truth was laid bare, it was still dripping in blood.

That young child, who had once been fostered at the Xie Residence and often woke up in the middle of the night crying from nightmares stained with blood, had made his way through mountains of corpses and seas of blood. He had now grown into a person with a heart as hard as iron. No matter how gruesome the past was when presented before his eyes, it could no longer stir even the slightest trace of emotion in his cold gaze.

A thin layer of snow drifted in through the skylight of the prison cell and settled upon the cold, green bricks at the corner of the wall. The chilling wind swept through the narrow passageway. The young man’s firm and upright figure, wrapped in a not-so-thick brocade robe, no longer seemed frail. He could now shoulder the weight of heaven and earth.

“Thank you, Teacher.” His voice was low and raspy.

After bowing deeply to Grand Preceptor Tao, Xie Zheng lifted his foot and began walking toward the exit of the imperial prison. Step by step, he moved steadily and firmly, neither hurried nor slow.

Grand Preceptor Tao watched his solitary, austere figure retreating into the distance. Then, glancing back at Wei Yan’s prison cell, he sighed deeply, sorrow filling his eyes once more.

That old fox—he had deliberately said those words in the end.

For seventeen years, he had used himself as a whetstone, finally forging the sharpest blade of the Da Yin Dynasty.

Time passed, heroes fell, and the Jinzhou Massacre, drenched in blood, now seemed like just another game of chess played during the reign of Emperor Qishun. Generals, court officials, emperors, princes… All those involved back then were merely pieces on this board, each vying for their gain, fighting and scheming amidst a ruined kingdom.

The last time Grand Preceptor Tao felt such overwhelming desolation was when he was overseeing the battlefield at the frontlines, his wife and children slaughtered under the blades of foreign invaders. Today, over a decade later, that sense of grief weighed even more heavily on his heart.

He trudged slowly toward the exit of the prison, and when he passed the stone window at the corner, he caught sight of a radiant young woman dismounting her horse, her smile radiant as the sun itself. She stood beside the youth who had just walked out of the prison, speaking a few words to him. As if her warmth melted away the frost on his body, the youth’s icy demeanor softened slightly. He accepted the reins from her hand, and the two of them, shoulder to shoulder, walked away amidst the falling snow.

A trace of benevolent warmth finally emerged in Grand Preceptor Tao’s grief-stricken eyes.

Fortunately, that blade had found its sheath.