(1)

When Qi Min was still the carefree eldest grandson in the Eastern Palace, his daily concerns were merely how to complete the lessons left by his father, the Prince. His only worry was how to sweet-talk his mother into allowing him to play cuju for a bit longer.

When news of Jinzhou’s fall and his father’s death in battle reached the capital, it shattered the facade of tranquility maintained in the Eastern Palace.

His father was dead. He was very sad, but his mother’s grief seemed far more profound than his own.

People in the Eastern Palace were constantly dying.

His father’s retainers often came to the Eastern Palace secretly to discuss important matters with his mother. After sending these people away, his mother’s gaze upon him grew increasingly grave.

He was still young and didn’t understand what it meant, but at night, as his mother watched over him, she often couldn’t sleep for entire nights.

Even when she dozed off, the slightest movement from him would startle her awake. She always held him very tightly, murmuring something like “I must make sure he survives,” and before she knew it, her face would be streaked with tears.

He was only four or five years old then, thinking his mother was grieving for his father’s death. He would gently pat her shoulder, saying he would grow up to protect her, but this only made his mother cry harder.

It wasn’t until the great fire in the Eastern Palace that he understood everything his mother had been planning.

The flames of the burning palace in the distance reddened his eyes as his mother personally pressed him into a charcoal brazier. The heat of the charcoal fire burned so intensely that even his bone marrow seemed to convulse in pain. He cried until his throat could no longer produce any sound.

His mother cried in his ear, saying “You must survive,” but the only thought in his mind at that moment was: It hurts too much, living is too painful, and it would be better to die.

He was in such agony that he nearly fainted. The scorching heat on his face seemed to penetrate his brain, burning even his marrow.

As the Imperial Guard left by his father carried him to safety, he lay on the guard’s shoulder, watching his mother knock over the charcoal brazier. The flames quickly ignited the silk tablecloth, and his mother even used a candlestick to set fire to the layers of curtains hanging in the main hall.

The fire slowly consumed the entire palace. He was in too much pain to make a sound, only instinctively reaching out towards his mother, wanting to save her. But his mother just smiled gently at him through the flames. He was too far away to hear what she was saying, but he could barely make out from her lips that she was saying “Survive.”

(2)

When he regained consciousness, he was in a completely unfamiliar place. He was still in great pain, his entire body ached, especially his face and head. It felt as if there was a scorching fire burning beneath his skin, so painful that he wanted to bash his head against a pillar until it split open and bled. His vision was blurry.

He wasn’t fully conscious and weakly called out “Mother” by instinct.

But this time, there was no warm embrace, no gentle hand to comfort him.

Amidst the noisy and unfamiliar voices, he heard someone say with a sob: “Poor young master Huai, the Princess Consort is gone…”

Later, everyone left except for one person who sat by his bedside, holding his hand and saying softly: “Your Highness, this servant is Lan. I used to serve on the Crown Princess’s side. The Crown Princess entrusted you to me. From now on, your mother is not the Crown Princess, but the Princess Consort of Changxin. In this Changxin Prince’s Mansion, you shouldn’t trust anyone except me. I will protect you.”

He was still in pain. Lava-like liquid rolled from the corners of his eyes into his temples. Wherever the moisture touched, it scalded his skin, making it burn even more painfully.

He heard that voice continue to speak gently to him: “Don’t cry.”

Qi Min didn’t know if he was crying from the pain or from the sadness of realizing his mother had died in the great fire. He only felt pain, excruciating pain, inside and out…

The hand holding his was also warm, but it didn’t feel anything like his mother’s hand.

From that moment on, he not only lost his father, but also his mother.

(3)

Due to the burn injuries and the final memory of his mother perishing in the fire, Qi Min became extremely afraid of fire once he regained his sight.

At night, if lamps or candles were lit in his room, he would scream hysterically and smash everything within reach.

From then on, his courtyard was pitch black as soon as night fell. The servants were afraid of disturbing him and didn’t dare make even the slightest sound when walking. The place where he lived seemed to have become a house of the dead.

Anything hot could trigger his fear. He only drank cold food and medicine, and even the water for washing and bathing had to be cold.

He would rather catch a chill than dare to touch anything warm again.

In the countless nights after losing his mother, he became like she had been in the Eastern Palace, unable to sleep, startled awake by even the sound of wind outside.

His nerves were always on edge, and he even became afraid to sleep – fearing he might say something in his nightmares.

Later, when his injuries had healed somewhat and the bandages wrapped around him could be removed, the maid who came in to bring water for him to wash was so frightened that she screamed and dropped the basin.

When the old nanny came in to see what had happened, she too was so shocked that her legs gave way.

In the end, it was Aunt Lan who scolded everyone away and personally brought water to serve him.

All reflective objects in the room had been removed, so he couldn’t see clearly what he looked like. But the burn scars on his arms, pitted and raw red, were indeed ugly and nauseating.

His stepmother – his “mother’s” younger sister who had married into the Prince’s Mansion – came to see him once. She was so frightened that she didn’t even dare to enter the room, only standing at the doorway before her face changed color. It was said that she couldn’t eat for several days afterward.

He had always remained silent, until one day when Aunt Lan forgot to remove the wash basin promptly after helping him wash up. He caught a glimpse of himself in the water’s reflection.

The image in the water wasn’t very clear, but he was still so frightened that he kicked over the copper basin.

He hadn’t spoken for so long that only a hoarse and jarring scream came from his throat.

That wasn’t him. He remembered what he used to look like. His father had once commissioned an artist to paint a portrait of him and his mother. He had delicate features, red lips, and white teeth. He wasn’t that ugly creature in the water basin!

Aunt Lan heard the noise and came in, holding and comforting him for a long time.

But his temperament became increasingly dark and solitary, his moods unpredictable. If a maid serving him closely showed even a hint of fear in her eyes, it could provoke him to great anger, ordering the maid to be beaten to death.

He became sensitive, irritable, quick to anger, afraid of seeing people, and afraid of those looks of terror or surprise.

Qi Min felt that he wasn’t even a rat crossing the street, but a sick old rat covered in mange, its fur almost completely fallen out, patchy and disgusting.

The only benefit of those burn injuries was that the Lord and Lady of Changxin rarely came to see him anymore.

Whether the new Princess Consort truly had deep sisterly affection for the previous Princess Consort, or whether she saw that although he was the “eldest son” of the Prince of Changxin, he was already a useless person and posed no threat to her or the child in her belly, she was willing to gain a reputation for kindness. Even though she never came to see him again, she didn’t reduce the food, clothing, or daily necessities in his courtyard at all.

Aunt Lan’s husband’s family was in the merchant class and had extensive connections. She quickly found a miraculous doctor from the jianghu for him.

The doctor said that fortunately he was still young, and the burned skin, once replaced, could heal well.

The pain of skin grafting is one of the ten most cruel tortures, showing how brutal and bloody it is. The area of his burns was too large to be replaced all at once.

It took several years to completely replace all the dead skin on his body.

Only those who have experienced it personally can understand how painful it is to have one’s skin cut.

His hands and feet were tied tightly to the bed, and the wooden bit in his mouth was bitten out of shape.

It was too painful.

Countless times, he thought it would be better to just die, but he just couldn’t die.

So he decided to seek revenge. All this pain was inflicted by his enemies, and his mother had died for him. He must have his revenge!

(4)

By the time Qi Min’s burn injuries had completely healed, the new Princess Consort’s son was already able to walk.

Over the years, the people in the mansion had grown accustomed to his mercurial moods. Because of the burns on his face, he had worn a mask for the past few years. Even after the skin on his face had been replaced and healed, he still never removed the mask in front of the people of the Prince of Changxin’s Mansion.

The people in the mansion thought the miraculous doctor hadn’t cured him, and afraid of offending him, they never dared to discuss the matter.

The new Princess Consort was also very clever and never mentioned it. Her son had already been named the heir apparent. Perhaps seeing him as “her sister’s orphan” and pitying him, she was willing to bestow some compassion, often speaking of letting her healthy and lively son befriend him.

Qi Min felt only disgust.

The entire Prince of Changxin’s Mansion was filled with his enemies!

Her healthy and lovely son only reminded him of his inhuman appearance, filling his heart with jealousy and hatred.

Sui Yuanqing could practice martial arts, ride horses, and shoot arrows, while he was constantly plagued by illness, taking medicine every day.

He wanted to learn martial arts too, but Aunt Lan, who had always stood by his side, disagreed, saying his body was too weak.

Only Fu Qing, the Imperial Guard left by his father, was willing to teach him secretly.

From that time on, he vaguely knew that only Fu Qing would obey his orders unconditionally. Aunt Lan was loyal to him, but she would also refuse him.

(5)

Qi Min truly began to doubt Lan’s loyalty to him when he was seventeen. He had been secretly practicing martial arts, overexerting himself and triggering his chronic illness again.

The illness came on suddenly and violently. The physician said his condition was not optimistic.

He was in a daze, but his mind was clear. He heard the servants telling Lan that they shouldn’t have let him undergo skin grafting, enduring so much pain, which further damaged his health.

He had always thought Lan found the miraculous doctor for him because she couldn’t bear to see him in such a state. But he heard Lan say that without the skin grafts, with his disfigured appearance, how could he ever sit on that dragon throne again?

So it wasn’t for him at all but for that dragon throne.

Lan also said that while his body was still functional, they should choose some women for him to leave behind offspring. If anything were to happen to him in the future, there wouldn’t be major chaos.

Qi Min had never felt such irony before. His heart turned cold, chilling him to panic.

So Lan wasn’t loyal to him at all. She was only loyal to his identity as the bloodline of the Crown Prince of Chengde.

Even if it wasn’t him, but another person with his father’s bloodline, Lan would serve them just as devotedly.

When his body improved slightly, beauties of all shapes and sizes were sent to his courtyard.

He threw a massive tantrum, but while Lan seemed to respect him, she never changed her mind about him leaving behind offspring.

Lan always said it was for the great cause of revenge. He coldly asked Lan if she was hoping for his death. Lan knelt, saying she wouldn’t dare, weeping as she listed many examples of princes contending for the throne, saying that offspring were the greatest backing for such endeavors.

He finally compromised, but not because he was convinced by Lan’s arguments.

It was because his power hadn’t reached the point where he could completely control the Zhao family. The people his mother had left behind all looked to Lan for leadership.

The only ones he could use were the shadow guards his father had left in the Eastern Palace. But if he killed Lan and her son, the game with the Zhao family would be over. So he had to keep Lan and her son alive, letting them continue to work for him for now.

With great disgust, he chose the most timid and honest one from the beauties Lan had sent.

Perhaps because of his reputation for cruelty and violence, that woman was very afraid of him. When she came to his room, her whole body was trembling, and she didn’t dare look at him the entire time.

Qi Min felt sick, not just about leaving offspring, but he suddenly felt disgusted with his own identity.

The new Princess Consort had raised a Persian cat, a pet tribute from a foreign country. The new Princess Consort liked it very much, and to preserve the cat’s precious bloodline, she specially ordered people to find several beautiful white cats to mate with the Persian cat.

Qi Min felt like he was that Persian cat being taken to mate.

He didn’t even see clearly what the woman who came to serve him looked like. Lan, worried about his health, had even given him medicine. He had almost no memory of what happened in between.

When he woke up, he found the bed curtains bloodstained, and that woman lying unconscious beside him, her face deathly pale. He didn’t know if she had fainted from fear or pain.

Qi Min felt the world spinning. That feeling of nausea intensified, making him want to peel off a layer of his skin.

He truly was just like livestock, drugged just to complete the act.

He threw the biggest tantrum of his life, ordering everything that could be burned in that room to be burned clean. He soaked himself in the icy lake water until his hands and feet wrinkled, but still felt he couldn’t wash away the filth and stickiness all over his body.

The woman who had served him fell seriously ill upon returning, becoming wooden, as if she had turned into an idiot.

The servants secretly said she had been frightened into idiocy by him, and they became even more afraid of him.

Qi Min felt only disgust and nausea. There wasn’t a moment when he didn’t want to kill that woman—she had seen him drugged like an animal.

Every time he realized this, he couldn’t contain his violence, and only killing could slightly alleviate it.

After this incident, Lan seemed to understand that she had completely offended his taboo. She became more restrained, and when serving him, always put on an air of suffering, as if she was loyal to him for the great cause of revenge but was misunderstood by him.

But Qi Min only wanted to grind her Buddha-like face into the mud and drug her too so she could understand what it felt like to be treated like breeding livestock.

He wanted to kill the woman who had served him. The servants all thought it was because she hadn’t served him well, and didn’t dare comment.

Lan didn’t stop him this time, which was a concession to some extent.

However, that woman was truly lucky. Her monthly cycle didn’t come, and she was diagnosed with pregnancy.

He couldn’t kill her now.

He knew that Lan would soon have other options.

It was also from this time that he became increasingly wary of Lan and her son.

As long as that woman gave birth to a male child, his position could be replaced at any time.

When the new Princess Consort learned that one of his concubines was pregnant, she also began to guard against him, inserting spies under the guise of adding more staff to his courtyard.

His health was poor, so he couldn’t compete with Sui Yuanqing anymore, but with a son, it would be a different story.

The new Princess Consort appeared magnanimous. The Prince of Changxin’s Mansion had numerous concubines, but she was never seen to be jealous. However, the Prince’s concubines had given birth to a bunch of daughters, but not a single son.

The Prince of Changxin might have suspected something, but he couldn’t produce evidence. So for a period, he kept many women outside the mansion, and among those women, some bore him sons.

The offspring of the Prince’s Mansion, of course, couldn’t be raised by questionable people outside. They would all be brought back to the mansion and, like his “good brother” Sui Yuanqing, be taught by martial arts masters from a young age.

However, those children brought back to the mansion always died young for various reasons, or like him, were weak and sickly.

Qi Min felt that the Prince of Changxin must have known something, but he hadn’t fallen out with the Princess Consort, probably for the sake of her family’s power.

The Prince of Changxin only had Sui Yuanqing as a son capable of great use, so naturally, he had to be well-educated. Whatever Xie Zheng, the son of Xie Linshan who was raised by Wei Yan, learned, the Prince would arrange for Sui Yuanqing to learn as well.

Qi Min, of course, knew that his father’s death was at the hands of these two villains, Wei Yan and the Prince of Changxin. He hated them to the bone, but these two men—one wielding immense power at court, overshadowing the imperial authority, and the other a king in the northwest, acting like a local emperor—were beyond his reach for now.

But Qi Min keenly sensed that Wei Yan and the Prince of Changxin must have fallen out, only maintaining a surface-level peace because they had been partners in crime and each held leverage over the other.

The Prince of Changxin had always raised Sui Yuanqing in the same way as Xie Zheng, just so Sui Yuanqing could know both himself and the enemy, and in the future, overcome on the battlefield the blade that Wei Yan had forged.

Qi Min had been biding his time, but regarding revenge, he vaguely had an initial plan.

He needed to escalate the conflict between the Prince of Changxin and Wei Yan, letting them fight each other like dogs first. After finding evidence of their collusion, he would expose them both at once.

In the court, the Li family, known as the leader of the “pure stream” faction, had a reputation for virtue and was at odds with both the Wei and Sui factions.

Unfortunately, the puppet emperor sitting on the dragon throne also had ambitions. He had married a daughter of the Li family early on, and Grand Tutor Li was the emperor’s teacher.

If he rashly approached the Li family, he would be just an outsider compared to the puppet emperor who already had a teacher-student relationship and marriage ties with Grand Tutor Li.

Therefore, to win over the Li family as a backer, he must first dismantle the alliance between the Li family and the young emperor.

(6)

Qi Min’s next encounter with the woman carrying his child occurred on a moonlit night, a month after her pregnancy was confirmed to be in its third month.

During this time, he had to guard against Madam Lan and her son, as well as the Consort Wang. He also began to orchestrate plans to further provoke conflicts between the Sui and Wei families, while simultaneously driving a wedge between the puppet emperor and the Li family. It was truly a game of intricate calculations.

He understood that he could no longer rely on the Lan clan and the Zhao family. He had to expand his power base to avoid being treated as mere breeding stock.

Despite his fear of fire, he forced himself to face it, though his methods were undeniably cruel.

To overcome his fear, he burned to death those who betrayed him or spies who had been exposed.

The sharp, piercing screams assaulted his eardrums. The faces, contorted by the flames, transformed from tearful pleas for mercy to various curses and insults. The air gradually changed from the scent of burning flesh to a charred odor.

Even with the fire at a distance, he still felt the searing pain in his old burn wounds. In such moments, he wouldn’t allow anyone to see him in such a pitiful state.

He dismissed everyone and locked himself in a stone chamber, leaving a pile of terrifying bonfires outside the iron bars. Curled up in a corner like an animal, he faced alone the nightmares from the great fire in the Eastern Palace of his childhood.

In his memories, his mother’s face, burned to death in the Eastern Palace, sometimes morphed into his own horrifying, scarred visage that he had once seen reflected in a water basin. Other times, it transformed into the faces of those he had burned to death.

Day after day, he confined himself to the stone chamber, struggling to wake from nightmares filled with flames and charred scars. Each time he awoke, his face was pale, his clothes soaked with cold sweat. His temperament visibly became more and more obsessive, violent, and gloomy.

Once again, as he faced his fear of fire alone, it triggered his madness.

The old burn wounds, at the mere sight of fire, would become unbearably painful, as if he was reliving the moment he had nearly burned to death.

Even the Imperial Physician who examined him couldn’t find a cure.

He had been secretly training in martial arts with the shadow guards for years. In his frenzy, he broke open the stone chamber’s door. The shadow guards outside, fearing to hurt him, failed to stop him in time. Instead, he seized a knife and severely wounded them.

The phantom pain made his entire body ache. Feeling as if he was about to be burned alive, he jumped into a cold pond without a second thought. In extreme pain, he even forgot to hold his breath, and the icy water rushed into his nostrils.

He no longer had the strength to struggle and save himself. At that moment, he thought he would truly die there.

But a slender yet warm hand grasped him as he sank deeper into the frigid pond.

At first, he didn’t know who the woman saving him was. He only felt that she was so frail, yet she was still trying hard to swim towards the edge of the cold pond with him in tow.

After dragging him ashore, he was too exhausted to open his eyes. Thinking he had swallowed water, she kept pressing on his chest and abdomen. Then, for some reason, she lowered her head and kissed him.

Qi Min had no memory of such intimacy with anyone. His only experience of sharing a bed with someone was when he had been drugged. The mixed smell of blood and cloying fragrance in that room upon waking still made him nauseous when he recalled it.

Since then, he had even despised contact with women.

But this person was different. Her lips were soft and warm, and her scent wasn’t unpleasant.

She kissed him for a while, then pressed hard on his chest and abdomen again. The cold water droplets from her soaked long hair fell on his face as she spoke with some urgency, “Wake up! Don’t just die here!”

Qi Min lay there for a long time before finally regaining some strength. He spat out a mouthful of water and opened his eyelids, making out the features of the woman who had saved him in the moonlight.

Docile.

This was his first impression of that woman. From her eyebrows to the contours of her facial features, everything conveyed a sense of obedient gentleness. Yet her eyes paradoxically revealed a fearless and unrestrained spirit, as if she had never been bound by any rules.

For the first time, Qi Min understood what it felt like to have his heart caught by a single glance.

Just her looking at him made his heart itch.

Upon realizing he was awake, she sighed in relief and sat down on the ground without hesitation, wringing out her soaked dress and hair while muttering, “Thank goodness he’s awake. Buddha be praised, I’ve saved a life. I hope Buddha will bless me and let everything go smoothly…”

Qi Min listened to her mumbling and asked with effort, “Who are you?”

By all rights, he should have killed her for witnessing him in such a vulnerable state.

But at this moment, he was surprisingly calm. He didn’t even feel much disgust at her audacity in kissing him for so long.

Perhaps it was because she had just saved his life, or perhaps because she was the only person in years whose eyes didn’t fill with fear at the sight of him, as if seeing some kind of monster.

Or maybe he was just too weak at the moment.

In any case, the thought of killing her didn’t cross Qi Min’s mind for the time being.

The woman’s eyes darted around as she countered with her question, “Who are you? Why are you trying to end your life in this pond in the middle of the night?”

Though she looked gentle, she wasn’t without wit.

Qi Min’s courtyard was already built in the most secluded area of the prince’s mansion, with the cold pond behind the bamboo grove connecting to the back mountain.

He figured that since this woman could appear in his courtyard’s territory in the middle of the night, and judging by her attire of a menial maid, she must be a servant in his courtyard. So he fabricated a lie, “I’m a guard of the mansion. The young master wanted to eat fish and ordered me to catch some from the pond.”

The woman widened her eyes in shock, “Wanting to eat fish in the middle of the night?”

He sneered and said, “Yes, if I can’t catch any, I probably won’t live to see tomorrow.”

The servants in the mansion would change color at the mere mention of him, fearing him like a vengeful ghost or a rakshasa. He thought this explanation would probably coax her into saying some words of criticism about him.

But the woman just furrowed her brow and muttered, “This godforsaken place.”

She said nothing more, but picked up the large bundle she had set aside before entering the water and said to him, “It’s pitch black. You shouldn’t try to catch fish now. I’m leaving. I’ve saved your life, so do me a favor and pretend you never saw me tonight.”

Qi Min looked at the bundle in her hand and finally understood why she had appeared here in the dead of night.

He half-sat up, leaning against a purple bamboo, and said, “Servants who try to escape privately will be beaten to death if caught, as a warning to others.”

The woman’s bold stride faltered. She turned her head to look at him suspiciously, “I saved your life. You’re not thinking of exposing me, are you?”

He was unusually good-tempered and even curved his lips into a smile as he said to her, “I won’t. I’m just reminding you of the mansion’s rules.”

The woman stood there for a moment, then suddenly walked over to him. She had no rope in her bundle, and after rummaging for a while, she only found a few waistbands from clothes. She used these waistbands to tie his hands behind the bamboo he was leaning against, then took out a robe, balled it up, and stuffed it in his mouth.

Qi Min was stunned by her actions. If he hadn’t just experienced a bout of phantom pain and fallen into the water, leaving his body weak, he would have snapped her neck the moment she made a move.

After doing all this, she crouched in front of him and said, “Thanks for the reminder. I don’t know you, and I can’t take you with me. To prevent you from telling on me, I’ll tie you up first. This way, when someone finds you tomorrow, you can explain yourself and avoid being wrongly accused as my accomplice.”

With his mouth gagged, his eyes were as cold as ice, yet seemed to burn with fire. He made two muffled sounds.

The woman pointed at herself, “Me? You don’t need to worry about that. By the time people in the mansion discover I’m gone tomorrow, I should be outside the gates of Chongzhou City!”

She hoisted her bundle onto her back again and walked towards the depths of the bamboo grove, waving her hand at him with particular flair.

Qi Min stared at her retreating figure, experiencing such treatment for the first time in his life. He should have been angry, but for some unknown reason, he suddenly couldn’t muster any anger at all.

The woman harbored no malice towards him, and there was something inexplicably attractive about her.

Of course, she didn’t succeed in escaping from the prince’s mansion.

Shortly after she left, the shadow guards who discovered the disturbance in the stone chamber traced the signs and came over, shocked to find him tied up. They quickly untied him.

Qi Min, unusually, didn’t lose his temper. Instead, he ordered them to take the mansion’s guards and bring back the maid who had escaped through the back mountain, unharmed.

The shadow guards were highly efficient. By the time he returned to his room and changed his clothes, the woman had been brought back.

They also brought back another piece of information: she wasn’t just some menial maid, but the woman carrying his bloodline.

This answer left Qi Min stunned for a long time.

His first thought was, surprisingly, that the woman didn’t recognize him either.

This realization made him somewhat unhappy.

He was disgusted by the woman who had drugged him to conceive, and he extremely despised the yet unborn child in her womb—despite it being his flesh and blood.

No one would like a person who could potentially threaten their life and position at any time.

Even a young tiger, before it has the strength to challenge the tiger king, would be driven out of the territory.

Before this night, he had only thought about when to get rid of that woman and the child in her womb.

After this night, he suddenly became somewhat interested in that woman.

She was already pregnant, yet she dared to run away. Did she also not want to be confined here?

He saw in her something he also yearned for freedom.

(7)

Qi Min didn’t rush to see that woman, nor did he order any punishment for her.

To be precise, he hadn’t yet decided how to deal with her.

Madam Lan couldn’t figure out his thoughts about that woman either, but seeing that he no longer seemed to despise her as much as before, she took the initiative to tell him some information. For instance, the woman’s surname was Yu, she had no given name, her family was poor, and she had been sold by her parents.

Qi Min didn’t pay much attention to these details. He was methodically and gradually intensifying the friction between Wei Yan and the Prince of Changxin.

Only occasionally, in the dead of night, after practicing martial arts alone and soaking in the cold pond to relieve the pain from training, would he inexplicably think of that woman’s kiss.

She was his first woman, and he seemed not to be so disgusted by her anymore.

A month later, Qi Min finally inquired about the woman’s recent situation.

His subordinates’ expressions were somewhat peculiar as they simply said she was doing well in all aspects.

Qi Min didn’t understand what “doing well in all aspects” meant, so he went to the courtyard where the woman had lived to take a look. Finally, he understood.

She was always quietly and leisurely doing her things. She complained that the nourishing meals prepared by the kitchen were not tasty, but being pregnant, she didn’t want to be near the smoke and oil of cooking. So she would instruct the kitchen maids on how to cook.

It was as if she wasn’t the same person who had tried to run away with a bundle in the middle of the night.

Hmm, she had become obedient.

Or rather, she was always trying to make herself as comfortable as possible.

After learning that he was the legendary “Eldest Young Master,” she was indeed surprised for a long time but soon calmed down. She immediately admitted her mistakes when she should, and ate every bite of her meals without leaving anything.

Qi Min felt as if he had punched a cotton ball.

However, it was quite interesting.

She was the only person in this mansion who truly didn’t fear him. Even when he sat right across from her, she could still eat and drink with abandon, not taking him seriously at all.

It was this casualness that made Qi Min increasingly enjoy being with her.

She was respectful towards him, yet not entirely so.

She was like a cat that always wanted to bristle its fur but had to suppress its temper, allowing itself to be kneaded and shaped at will.

Sometimes, he even felt that having his firstborn child born to such a woman might not be so hard to accept after all.

Because of the tranquility and peace he received from her, even the humiliation and hatred from being drugged before were slowly fading away.

However, he soon tasted the flavor of betrayal.

That woman had escaped.

She took all the gold, silver, and jewelry he had bestowed upon her, along with her maid and a guard from Prince Changxin’s mansion who often ran errands for her, disappearing without a trace.

He sent shadow guards to search for her, but they only discovered that she had left the border with a merchant caravan, heading towards the Western Regions.

Qi Min was furious, grinding his teeth in anger.

For a full five years, he had been using the Zhao family’s connections to search for her beyond the border.

During this time, Madam Lan had indeed urged him to choose a few concubines to his liking.

However, he had already cultivated his power base and was no longer like before, having to listen to Madam Lan’s arrangements in everything.

How could he allow himself to be treated as a puppet again?

Madam Lan hit a brick wall and sensed his growing dissatisfaction with the Zhao family and herself. In the end, she dared not insist any further.

(8)

News of that woman surfaced again in Qingping County.

When Qi Min received Zhao Xun’s message, he almost laughed in anger. He had always thought she was hiding beyond the border, never imagining that the trail she deliberately left years ago was just a ruse. All these years, she had been hiding in Jizhou.

That woman had also borne him a son.

Madam Lan and her son were extremely pleased, but as Qi Min set out for Jizhou, he only listlessly pondered whether to kill or keep that little bastard.

At that time, Sui Yuanqing, disguised as an imperial army collecting grains, was trying to stir up trouble in Jizhou, inciting public anger to help the rebels within and without assisting Prince Changxin in taking over Jizhou.

Upon learning that his runaway concubine had opened a tavern in Qingping County, Sui Yuanqing directly controlled the local magistrate, imprisoning everyone from the tavern before sending word to him.

He saw that woman again on the night of the Qingping County public uprising.

She was secretly brought to his estate by his men.

Only then did he learn that she had given herself a name, Yu Qianqian.

He asked about the whereabouts of his son, but she refused to tell.

Five years had passed when he touched her for the second time, filled with an anger he couldn’t quite explain and a joy of regaining something lost.

He suddenly realized that he didn’t despise the act between men and women that much, at least not with her.

She was tied to his bed for a night, and the next day, news arrived at the villa that Sui Yuanqing had been defeated and his fate was unknown.

Although he had already sent Zhao Xun to secretly investigate her for a long time, she had once perfectly deceived his eyes and escaped, so this time he didn’t plan to take her back directly.

Firstly, the son she had borne him hadn’t been found yet, and secondly, he wanted to know what other forces she had hidden over these years.

So he deliberately left a loophole, creating the illusion that after Sui Yuanqing’s defeat, they must quickly withdraw from Jizhou, giving her a chance to escape.

His men secretly followed her, watching as she hastily sold her tavern at a discount, dismissed the people there, and fled with only a few loyal maids and guards.

She had indeed hidden her son well, entrusting him to an orphaned girl from a butcher’s family in town.

Only after confirming that Yu Qianqian had no more cards up her sleeve did he bring his troops to intercept her at a crucial point on her way to Jiangnan.

Watching the hope in her eyes fade to resigned defeat was quite interesting.

He thought he should punish her so she would learn her lesson and give up any thoughts of escaping again.

Knowing how much she cared for that child, he had his subordinates keep them separated.

Initially, he found her pleasing because she asked nothing of him; she had never intended to take anything from him.

When he was with her, he felt relaxed and safe.

But now, though she still asked nothing of him, he grew increasingly irritable day by day.

Asking nothing of him meant there was nothing about him that could make her stay.

Except for the child. Only that child.

Qi Min despised Yu Bao’er, not only because he was the product of his humiliation when he was drugged like an animal, but also because the boy was healthy, lively, and loved by his mother.

Most importantly, he seemed to occupy all of Yu Qianqian’s love.

He was darkly jealous of his child.

(9)

Soon, he tasted the sweetness of victory.

When he left an empty city in Chongzhou and attacked Lucheng, Yu Qianqian yielded to him for the first time.

Meng Shuyuan’s granddaughter was fighting desperately outside the city. He knew she was buying time. At first, he wanted his shadow guards to capture her alive, as she could be a bargaining chip against the Marquis of Wu’an. But as time dragged on and Lucheng had not fallen, he truly intended to kill her.

It was Yu Qianqian who deliberately created a disturbance to draw him there.

She begged him to spare that Meng girl’s life.

Heaven knows how delighted he was at that moment, but he was also consumed by an inexplicable anger, his chest burning with it.

To her, everyone seemed more important than him.

He suddenly wanted to know what it felt like to be held dear in her heart.

Just thinking about it made his chest feel hot, his whole being filled with joy.

Unfortunately, he never got the chance later.

The plan to take Lucheng still failed. No one had expected Xie Zheng, who had been in Kangcheng all along, to suddenly appear in Lucheng.

Just as seventeen years ago, when his Imperial Consort mother had let him become Sui Yuanhuai to keep him alive.

With one move of the cicada shedding its shell, he ended his identity as the son of a rebel.

He took her to hide in a place the Li family had arranged long ago, successfully evading the Marquis of Wu’an’s repeated searches.

During this time, an incident occurred that made Qi Min extremely angry—Zhao Xun had betrayed him.

He thought he should have dealt with Madam Lan and her son earlier. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been momentarily powerless against the Zhao family after Zhao Xun found the Marquis of Wu’an as his backer.

All he had done in earlier years to break the alliance between the puppet emperor and the Li family had ultimately benefited the Marquis of Wu’an.

Although the Zhao family were merchants, they indeed had some capabilities, even managing to establish connections with the chief eunuch on the puppet emperor’s side.

As imperial power declined, those eunuchs serving in the palace all sought to secure an extra path for themselves.

The Zhao family had obtained some information years ago. For instance, the girl sent into the palace by the Li family hadn’t conceived for several years. After Wei Yan had stripped away his power, the puppet emperor, though outwardly relying on the Li family, was also wary of them in private.

The puppet emperor also feared that the Li family might become a second Wei family in the future.

Qi Min had once self-mockingly thought that the predicament of that puppet emperor on the dragon throne was quite similar to his own.

They both dared not have their offspring, fearing they would be easily replaced.

What could destroy the alliance between the puppet emperor and the Li family were the dozen or so urgent reports about severe droughts and floods in Guanzhong and Jiangnan, held by the chief eunuch.

Those responsible for disaster relief were Wei Yan’s subordinates, with inspectors from the Li faction accompanying them. Lower-level officials embezzled funds, and the Li faction’s inspectors did nothing, even helping to cover up the extent of the disaster.

This had been planned from the beginning by the puppet emperor and the Li family. By letting more people die in this great disaster, they could then blame Wei Yan, cutting off another of his arms.

However, Li Taifu was cautious, fearing that when the puppet emperor gained power in the future, he might turn around and accuse the Li family of negligent inspection. So he wrote over a dozen urgent reports and sent them to the capital.

The chief eunuch was shrewd and of course, knew that the emperor didn’t want to see those urgent reports. If he saw them, either the original plan couldn’t continue, or the emperor would have to swallow this loss from the Li family and bear the stain of failing in his imperial virtue. In that case, the chief eunuch’s position would be at its end.

So the chief eunuch could only risk his life, temporarily acting as an intermediary and withholding all the urgent reports.

Obtaining those urgent reports meant obtaining evidence of the emperor’s failure in virtue, as well as a vital weakness of the Li family.

Qi Min had always wanted this evidence in the chief eunuch’s hands, but in the end, it was presented to Xie Zheng by Zhao Xun.

As a result, when Madam Lan later died under the swords of the Blood Robes to protect him, he couldn’t muster even a ripple of emotion in his heart.

Her loyalty was not to him, but only to this bloodline of the Crown Prince of Chengde.

Qi Min even mockingly thought that if Yu Bao’er wasn’t in Xie Zheng’s hands, Madam Lan probably wouldn’t have risked her life to keep him safe.

In that assassination attempt in the ruined temple, he also killed Sui Yuanqing.

Sui Yuanqing hated him to his dying breath. He could have revealed the whole truth of those years, could have told him what despicable things Prince Changxin Sui Tuo and Wei Yan had done together, could have told him that his mother, for him to survive, had burned herself to death in the Eastern Palace, suffering no less than the truly deceased Princess Consort of Changxin and her son.

But he said nothing, reluctant to give this answer.

If he had told the truth, he would have seemed like a pitiful worm who had been lurking in Prince Changxin’s mansion for so long just for revenge.

Wasn’t it more satisfying to let Sui Yuanqing die with a belly full of hatred and grievance?

(10)

After clashing with the Blood Robes, Qi Min schemed and finally managed to snatch Yu Qianqian back, but unfortunately failed to kill Yu Bao’er, who had fallen into Xie Zheng’s hands.

Yu Qianqian was severely injured. He flew into a rage and ordered the shadow guards who had hurt Yu Qianqian to go and receive punishment.

Yu Qianqian was unprecedentedly cold towards him. She still couldn’t understand why he insisted on killing her child.

She acted stubborn, refusing to take medicine or treat her wounds, seemingly knowing that he no longer had Yu Bao’er in his hands and couldn’t do anything to her.

It was then that Qi Min suddenly realized Yu Qianqian had no attachment to this world.

Except for the people she cared about, she despised everything here.

When she refused to cooperate with treatment, he would touch her.

Between the two of them, she was the one who truly despised intimacy.

Under his coercion, she finally agreed to take medicine and treat her wounds. At those times, she would always calmly tell him, “You won’t let me die, but one day, I will kill you.”

Qi Min remembered that the sun was particularly nice that day. He sat by the bed holding the medicine bowl, his usually cold, pale fingertips warmed by the sunlight, actually feeling a bit of warmth.

He smiled and answered, “Everyone dies eventually. Dying by your hand seems not bad compared to dying at the hands of others.”

He stirred the spoon and chatted casually with her, “When the time comes, make me a soup and put poison in it.”

At that time, Yu Qianqian only looked at him as if he were mad.

Later, she did come to send him off with a soup she had made.

(11)

The failure of the palace coup didn’t hit Qi Min very hard.

When the dust truly settled, he felt a sense of relief and satisfaction in his heart.

His life had been too tiring. As a child, he had to burn half his face and body, watching his Imperial Consort mother perish in the flames, just to steal a few decades of precarious survival.

For over ten years, he endured phantom pains of burning, walking on thin ice every day… He often felt that this was no different from being dead.

But he dared not mention death, nor show even a hint of weakness in front of anyone.

He was the descendant of the Crown Prince of Chengde, meant to reclaim the throne in the future. An heir apparent must have the dignity of an heir apparent, how could he show weakness in front of others?

He also couldn’t die. His Imperial Consort mother had traded her life for this slim chance of survival for him. He had to drag his enemies one by one into hell and seize back that dragon throne in the capital.

Now, he was finally free.

The arrow wound in his chest tormented him. Though he knew Xie Zheng was deliberately keeping him alive, he never thought of ending it himself. He wanted to see Yu Qianqian one last time.

They had made a promise. He had to drink the soup she made before he could go.

When she came, she asked about old matters on behalf of others, and he answered. He also drank the soup she made.

He wanted to ask her who she was, but she avoided answering.

After realizing that she had never had even a shred of true feelings for him, he didn’t understand why he suddenly felt such overwhelming grievance and anger.

He was about to die, yet she wouldn’t even pretend to deceive him!

When his hatred reached its peak, he even thought of taking her along with him.

This was what she owed him!

But he was ultimately too weak. He couldn’t harm her at all.

Later, when she crouched in front of him and calmly told him he didn’t deserve to be liked, he vaguely felt sad.

He wanted to say that his Imperial Consort mother had left too early, that his entire childhood and youth had been spent in pain. The people around him respected and feared him, and what they talked about most was revenge. No one had taught him what it meant to like someone, nor had anyone taught him to be considerate of others.

Of course, he couldn’t keep a child who would compete with him for the throne and even threaten his life.

He had lived like a rat in the gutter for so many years, always on edge. He couldn’t become the upright person she spoke of.

In this world, indeed, no one except his Imperial Consort mother had ever truly cared for him.

She seemed to be stunned for a moment when she saw the tears in his eyes, then left without looking back.

Qi Min lay alone in the vast hall, feeling the poison slowly corroding his internal organs, large amounts of fresh blood spilling from the corners of his mouth.

Perhaps because he had endured the pain of being burned as a child, and had been tormented by phantom pains for years, he didn’t feel much discomfort as the poison coursed through his body, slowly consuming his life.

His consciousness was hazy, his body feeling as if it was falling into endless darkness, dragging him into a dream from which he would never wake.

Just like when he had nearly drowned in that cold pond.

Only this time, there was no warm hand to pull him up.

His eyes stung, and there was a terrible emptiness in his chest.

In his daze, he heard her voice from outside the hall.

“Changyu, I have a secret.”

“I came here from a place very, very far away, and I can never go back.”

Her voice was deep. It wasn’t clear if she was speaking to someone outside or using the opportunity to tell him: “From now on, it would take thousands of years of walking to return there.”

The emptiness in his chest didn’t feel as painful anymore.

Qi Min’s blood-stained lips twitched with difficulty, and his already unfocused eyes slowly closed.

He had gotten the answer he wanted.