Zhang San had been on the throne for several years now.
The clematis flowers arranged in an SOS pattern bloomed year after year, and new palace ladies entered the imperial court in waves.
Zhang San knew he couldn’t leave behind any descendants. Over these years, he had played the fool and openly and secretly opposed the Empress Dowager too many times; her patience with him had been completely exhausted. Once an imperial son was born, his career as a puppet would come to an end, and the next day he would “accidentally” fall to his death in a well.
However, he couldn’t refuse to select concubines either, because he didn’t know which one of these consorts might be that fellow traveler.
He needed to identify her among the beauties sent by the Empress Dowager to bear children, those sent by Prince Duan to poison him, and those dispatched by various factions to manipulate him.
Where was that person? When would she appear? This obsession was like the last breath of a dying person, forcing him to stumble forward.
He learned to observe their every word and action without showing any emotion, to hint and probe subtly, to tactfully avoid intimate relations, and to block assassination attempts.
Even among the imperial guards, there had been spies. After that, he no longer trusted others for protection and spent several months self-reliant, creating mechanisms controlled by pulleys in his bedchamber. By pressing specific bricks hidden in various parts of the walls, hidden arrows would shoot out.
Sometimes he would suddenly stop and think, even if he truly found her, what then? He couldn’t help her, nor was he worthy of her help.
The female protagonist was meant to find the male protagonist, while he was just a villain.
When he first transmigrated, he still harbored naive dreams of defying fate. Now he had almost forgotten his name and appearance. Was he Zhang San or Xiahou Dan? Was that so-called modern life just a dream he had in the imperial study as a child?
If the female protagonist saw him like this, she would probably turn and flee.
Shan Yi entered the palace during that time. That year, the State of Yan sent her along with boxes of jewels and fox furs. Her name was written on the gift list—first to dance, then to serve in bed.
Unlike the later rumors of her being devastatingly beautiful, Shan Yi was called a beauty simply because she was given the title of Beauty. She was very young, barely mature, with only a pair of large eyes that appeared bewildered and pitiful when she blinked.
She somewhat resembled Zhang San’s first victim, that little palace maid.
Shan Yi didn’t speak much official language and couldn’t understand it well. Zhang San tested her with a couple of modern references as usual, but she didn’t understand his jokes. Thinking it was because of her poor language skills, she nearly burst into tears while apologizing, begging him not to send her away, otherwise the officials from Yan would beat her.
Zhang San: “They can’t reach you anymore.”
Shan Yi only pleaded, gesturing to say: “I must sleep with you.”
Zhang San: “…”
He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry: “Then lie down and go to sleep.”
Shan Yi nodded in confusion and quietly lay down.
The last person Zhang San met with such a simple mind was his middle school classmate.
He turned over by himself.
Due to his headache, and also because someone was beside his pillow, he usually found it difficult to fall asleep. But that day, the rouge scent on her body seemed like a superior calming incense; he somehow felt drowsy and quickly fell into a light sleep.
—Later he learned that it was indeed specially prepared for him.
What happened next was quite blurry in his memory.
Because before his consciousness became clear, his body had already moved first.
By the time he struggled to open his eyes, a strong iron rust smell had mixed with the rouge fragrance. Shan Yi had collapsed on top of him, eyes still open in death, holding a dagger in her hand, with a hidden arrow from the mechanism embedded in her back.
Moonlight poured in through the carved window, splashing all over her body. Her empty eyes still showed some confusion, as if not understand how there could truly be a monster who was killed in dreams.
Zhang San stared at her for a long time, then smiled.
He threw her corpse off the bed and closed his eyes again, resting against the pillow in the moonlight filled with the scent of iron rust.
That was the twenty-seventh person he had killed. He decided to stop counting.
It wasn’t a big deal; they were all paper characters, all paper characters, all paper characters.
The streets of the capital were especially lively on the morning after the Millennial Banquet.
Passing merchants and pedestrians continued walking without stopping, yet all secretly glanced at several particularly tall figures in the crowd, their eyes showing a hint of wariness.
People from Yan.
Although they were said to have come for peace talks, the shadow of several years of war had not yet disappeared. Perhaps because of this, these envoys seemed to emanate an aura of trouble no matter how you looked at them.
Ha Qina walked with his head down, overhearing opera singing from a nearby building, and snorted, saying in the Yan language: “Too weak, far inferior to the melodious songs of our people…”
Beside him, the burly bearded attendant suddenly raised an arm, blocking his path: “Wait.”
Ha Qina looked up to see a group of people coming toward them.
They were dressed like peddlers and porters but had the demeanor of ruffians, with pieces of scrap metal as weapons in their hands.
The leader said: “My brother says something went missing from his stall, you people stole it, right?”
The Yan people, having just experienced Lord Wang’s slander the night before, immediately flared up at these words: “Where’s your evidence?”
“Evidence? Stand up straight and let us search you.” The man revealed a fierce expression, reaching out to tug at their clothes.
How could the Yan people endure such an insult? They immediately shouted in anger and started fighting.
But unexpectedly, as soon as the attackers made their moves, each one showed professional training, not at all like ordinary commoners.
Ha Qina had his weapons removed when entering the city and, fighting empty-handed for several moves, was cut on the arm, bleeding profusely.
His face darkened.
This was a premeditated action; the other side was coming to kill!
Ha Qina instinctively turned his head and called out: “Prince—”
The bearded man stopped him with a hand gesture.
Ha Qina: “You go first, we’ll handle them!”
The bearded man: “Retreat together.”
The men of Yan had no concept of fleeing without a fight. Ha Qina thought he had misheard: “What?”
The bearded man: “Run!”
Without allowing any argument, he dragged Ha Qina to retreat suddenly. Several hidden weapons flew from the opposite side; the bearded man stepped in front of Ha Qina, raising his arm to block each one. There was a metallic sound from within his sleeve—he was wearing armor.
Ha Qina turned to look and saw that the way behind them had also been blocked by a group of people.
The bearded man dragged him into a narrow alley to the side. The remaining Yan people followed with extreme humiliation, but the pursuers were relentless, showing every intention of killing them all.
The bearded man said in a deep voice as they ran: “We cannot engage in battle. If we kill one person, we’ll be arrested on some charge.”
Ha Qina realized what was happening and cursed: “Treacherous Xia people!”
The Yan people were at a disadvantage due to unfamiliarity with the terrain, and after a while, they were driven into a dead-end alley.
Ha Qina, with his back against the wall, looked at the large crowd of pursuers and said bitterly: “Let’s die together, take them all out, it won’t be a loss!”
The bearded man sighed: “It would be a loss; the plan isn’t complete.”
Suddenly, a clear whistle came from behind them.
The bearded man turned sharply, staring at the wall behind them: “There seems to be a path behind the wall, climb over.”
The Yan people then used the narrow alley to hold back the pursuers while helping each other climb over the high wall. There was indeed a path behind the wall. Ha Qina had no time to think further and ran madly for a distance, protecting the bearded man, but the pursuers didn’t follow.
Faint angry shouts came from the other side of the wall: “Arrest them all, take them to the authorities!”
Ha Qina was still catching his breath: “The officials have come.”
The bearded man: “The group trying to kill us must be the Empress Dowager’s people. The officials would be the Emperor’s men.”
“What about the person who whistled just now? Are they also the Emperor’s people?”
The bearded man narrowed his eyes: “Perhaps not. If they were the Emperor’s people, why not come out openly to meet us?”
Prince Duan’s residence was holding a small meeting.
The person who had whistled earlier was kneeling and reporting: “That Ha Qina in the envoy group doesn’t seem to be the real leader. I understand some of the Yan language, and earlier Ha Qina called that burly attendant ‘Prince.'”
Xiahou Bo: “Yan has many princes. However, that beard looks suspicious, likely to conceal his face. Ordinary Yan people who have never been seen by Xia people in their lifetime do not need to hide. Since he’s disguised, he must be a familiar face. If he’s disguised, he must be someone we know.”
Scout: “Your Highness means…”
Xiahou Bo smiled slightly: “He should have faced Xia people on the battlefield before. With his skills, he indeed deserves the title of ‘Yan’s Top Warrior.'”
The scout was shocked: “That man is Tu’er?! Isn’t Tu’er at odds with the King of Yan? Why would he serve as an envoy for the King of Yan? No, wait, if he changed his name and disguised himself, could he be here secretly without the King of Yan knowing?”
Xiahou Bo pondered: “He probably replaced the real envoy group. The King of Yan wants peace talks, but as for Tu’er…”
His confidants began to analyze: “I heard he and Beauty Shan Yi, who died several years ago, were childhood sweethearts. Shan Yi died in the palace, but the Yan people didn’t admit to the assassination charge. Instead, they accused Xia of killing her and used this as a reason to declare war.”
“So Tu’er truly hates the Emperor and has decided to follow in Jing Ke’s footsteps?”
“That doesn’t make sense. After Jing Ke’s assassination attempt on the Qin Emperor, his death was certain. Tu’er has a promising future ahead, why risk his life?”
Xiahou Bo thought for a moment: “What if something has happened within Yan?”
“Your Highness means that Tu’er couldn’t oppose the King of Yan and couldn’t stay in Yan anymore, so he desperately came to Xia wanting to sabotage his uncle’s plans?”
Xiahou Bo slowly said: “Whatever the truth, this peace talk is likely to fail. The Emperor is already in a weak position; the high-level warriors around him have died. If Tu’er brought a group of assassins and suddenly attacked, the Emperor wouldn’t escape.”
A confidant hesitated: “Should we… reveal something to the Emperor?”
As soon as the words fell, Xiahou Bo looked at him with a smile: “You’re so kind-hearted?”
The confidant was frightened and immediately knelt: “I was thinking of Your Highness! If Tu’er kills the Emperor, the two countries will be at war again…”
Xiahou Bo gently helped him up: “That’s true. Originally, I thought the same. But I just realized, with Tu’er’s skills, it wouldn’t be difficult for him to accidentally kill the Empress Dowager too while attempting to assassinate the Emperor.”
The confidant was stunned.
“When that happens, with no leader, a strong enemy outside, and the Crown Prince too young, someone must take regency to manage the affairs of state.” The Prince blinked, “As for the war, since I already know about it, I can prepare early and won’t be caught off guard by a sudden attack from Yan.”
The confidants fell silent.
Villain, he’s a true villain.
Confidant: “As expected of Your Highness, farsighted and visionary.”
Xiahou Bo smiled: “Therefore, there’s no need to notify the Emperor. We can even assist Tu’er when necessary. Next, we just need to ensure that the Empress Dowager is present when they make their move.”
“Come, drink.” Yang Tuojie shook the wine pot.
Li Yunxi downed a cup: “Brother Yang’s private stock is indeed good. I won’t be polite then.”
Yang Tuojie didn’t say anything, but Cen Jintian, sitting nearby, smiled and said: “It’s rare to see Brother Li drinking so joyfully.”
Li Yunxi: “…”
Although Li Yunxi now had an official position, he was used to hard days and was quite frugal. He normally wouldn’t spend money on wine, only breaking his abstinence when visiting Yang Tuojie.
He wasn’t angry at Cen Jintian’s teasing but instead urged: “The three of us haven’t gathered in a long time. Brother Cen, have a cup too?”
Cen Jintian waved his pale hand: “No, no, I still want to live and farm for a few more days.”
He didn’t avoid mentioning his illness, but Li Yunxi wasn’t good with flowery words, especially when slightly drunk. He stumbled over his words for a while before squeezing out: “Your… your complexion looks good lately.”
How could Cen Jintian not know his temperament? Hearing this, he laughed: “Brother Li is thoughtful.”
Yang Tuojie: “Indeed.”
Li Yunxi frowned and glared at him.
Yang Tuojie: “What?”
Li Yunxi: “Since we met today, you haven’t spoken more than ten words. I’m just curious, weren’t you always the most talkative one? Why are you suddenly so sparing with words?”
Cen Jintian also asked: “Brother Yang seems to have lost some weight. Haven’t you encountered some trouble?”
Yang Tuojie downed a cup of wine himself, smiling bitterly: “Don’t mention it. I never want to speak again in this life.”
Half a pot of wine later.
Yang Tuojie: “You two got what you wanted in the Ministry of Revenue, but do you know what I do every day in the Imperial Astronomical Bureau? Divination. Planetary fortunes, calamities, and blessings rise and fall—every day I make up stories for people to read. Do you think I can just fabricate whatever? No! If an important person wants the divination to be bad, then it must be bad, and it must be calculated with elaborate rituals and profound mysticism, bad in such an eloquent and ornate way that it becomes a literary masterpiece. Is this what my literary talent is for?”
Li Yunxi: “…”
Cen Jintian: “…”
Yang Tuojie hiccupped from the wine: “And that’s not even the worst of it! Sometimes the Empress Dowager wants it to be bad, but His Majesty wants it to be good. The Imperial Astronomical Bureau splits into two factions, colleagues debating like competing scholars, firing rhetorical volleys back and forth. I rewrite a thousand drafts daily, wearing my brushes down to stubs, just to prove that the damn turtle shell cracking to the left is a good omen! Alas, how can there be such a miserable thing in this world? I, Yang Tuojie, studied for ten cold years, cultivated this great talent, only to finally become a fortune-teller?!”
Li Yunxi: “…”
Cen Jintian couldn’t help it and laughed: “To be fair, you certainly look the part.”
Yang Tuojie was tall and fair-skinned, with two long, thin whiskers that floated in the breeze, giving him quite a mystical, Taoist appearance.
Li Yunxi put his hand on his shoulder: “Master Taoist, please read my palm…”
Yang Tuojie cursed listlessly: “Get lost.”
After Li Yunxi had his laugh, he comforted him: “Didn’t His Majesty say that he needs you to write those mystical things to fool people right now, but after a while, he’ll transfer you elsewhere?”
Yang Tuojie supported his forehead with his hand and said quietly: “Let me ask a treasonous question: do you believe him?”
Cen Jintian, who had been the first to pledge loyalty to Xiahou Dan, nodded decisively upon hearing this.
Li Yunxi was silent for a moment: “He told me to continue organizing land registers from various regions, saying they would be used someday. I suppose that counts as the Emperor’s promise.”
Yang Tuojie was shocked: “That’s not what you said when you first entered the Ministry of Revenue! Are you no longer bothered that Er Lan is climbing the ranks with his social skills?”
Li Yunxi showed a slightly uncomfortable expression: “I don’t see him that way anymore.”
Yang Tuojie froze for a moment, then gave a bitter laugh and said dejectedly: “So I’m the only one still wandering in doubt.”
“Brother Yang…”
Yang Tuojie lowered his voice even more: “Since our first meeting at the lake, we’ve seen His Imperial countenance several times. Have you noticed? The way the sage looks at us sometimes… truly lives up to the name of a sage.”
Like a great wind sweeping over grass and trees, without sorrow or joy, heaven and earth show no benevolence.
The other two had nothing to say for a moment.
Yang Tuojie escorted his guests to the door and added one more piece of news before saying goodbye: “That Director Zhang from the Ministry of Rites, you know him, right? We prepared for the Millennial Banquet together and became quite familiar. Yesterday he secretly told me that the Yan diplomatic mission was chased and attacked by bandits in the main street but managed to escape.”
Li Yunxi turned to look at him: “It must be the Empress Dowager trying to eliminate them under the guise of bandits, right?”
Yang Tuojie: “Most likely. As a result, His Majesty ordered the Ministry of Rites to visit their residence and apologize, making quite a grand gesture, even offering soft words of comfort despite their cold faces.”
Cen Jintian sighed: “That gives them face. His Majesty truly wants to promote the peace talks.”
Yang Tuojie: “That’s why I’m even more confused. When Brother Wang was sent alone to Yan, I already had misgivings. Now Brother Wang has not returned and is likely in danger. His Majesty himself suspects these Yan people have ill intentions, yet he still lowers himself to please them. What exactly is he thinking? Does he have a plan, or is he merely using this as a pretext to seize power from the Empress Dowager?”
The last thought, he ultimately did not speak aloud: Are we merely pawns and mouthpieces in Xiahou Dan’s power struggle?
At night, Tu’er woke up gasping for breath.
The bed in the Xia guest residence was very soft. Too soft making one’s limbs sink deeply, difficult to move. Perhaps this was why he had nightmares.
Tu’er turned and sat up, glancing at the guards sitting on the floor beside the bed: “What time is it?”
“The third watch,” Ha Qina lit a lamp, “Prince, are you alright?”
Tu’er got up to wash his face with cold water, and on his way back, glanced out the window.
In the night, there were still many imperial guards stationed outside the guest residence gates. It was said that the Emperor of Xia had specially assigned these men to protect them and prevent bandits from causing trouble again.
As for whether they were guards or surveillance, that was hard to say.
Ha Qina frowned: “With these extra people, our plan…”
Tu’er was quite calm: “Let’s observe the situation. This peace talk was privately arranged by Xiahou Dan; he will certainly meet with us. We’ll make our move then.”
But from Ha Qina’s worried expression, he could deduce that his face didn’t look too good right now.
It must be because he dreamed of Shan Yi.
Tu’er shook his head irritably, shaking off the water droplets from his face. In the dim candlelight, his face without the fake beard revealed deeply handsome features.
Tu’er blew out the candles again and lay in the darkness, staring at the ceiling: “Do you think Zha Luo Wa Han has discovered it?”
When leaving Yan, he was officially still confined to his home and not allowed visitors. He had left behind a body double who resembled him closely. As long as King Zha Luo Wa Han didn’t summon him, he wouldn’t notice anything unusual.
Ha Qina: “We haven’t received any news. The King rarely sees you anyway, so he probably won’t discover it.”
Tu’er snorted: “He must still be eagerly awaiting the results of the peace talks right now.”
His subordinates let out a wave of suppressed laughter, like a pack of panting wild beasts.
Ha Qina laughed particularly heartily: “He’s an old wolf who’s lost his teeth, just waiting to die.”
Tu’er knew Ha Qina’s father had been killed by the King of Yan. These men and women who had come with him to Xia, had blood debts with the Xia people, and others had deep grudges against the King of Yan, so they were willing to embark on this one-way journey.
And himself?
Given a choice, he didn’t want to be a dishonorable assassin. What he had sought all his life was to ride with sword in hand, leading an army into the Xia capital, and cutting off the Emperor’s head.
But the King of Yan had grown old, weak, and unable to fight. Once persuaded by Xia’s envoys, he wanted to extinguish the flames of war with his own hands and eliminate, one by one, the warriors who had risked their lives for him.
“Sacrificing the hound once the rabbit is caught”—this was a saying Tu’er had heard from the Xia people.
But at that time, he didn’t realize that he was also a hound.
Zha Luo Wa Han hadn’t always been like this. He once hated Xia intensely and took pleasure in torturing Xia people.
Tu’er had heard rumors that when the Xia people blinded one of his eyes years ago, they had also injured another part of him. So he had no children of his own, only Tu’er as a nephew.
Zha Luo Wa Han’s treatment of Tu’er wasn’t particularly warm, but he had dutifully taught him horseback riding and hunting.
The young Tu’er would return on horseback under the eager gazes of young women, presenting his hunting trophies one by one at his uncle’s feet: countless birds, four rabbits, two deer, and an old wolf.
Someone flattered: “The Prince’s skills are getting better and better. Will he soon become Yan’s top warrior?”
Tu’er smiled and looked toward his uncle, but caught a fleeting expression of displeasure on his face.
At the time, Tu’er didn’t understand the meaning of that subtle expression. Even if he had known, he couldn’t have uttered flattering or sycophantic words.
So he left unaware after paying his respects, running to Shan Yi who was waiting for him, and like a magician, produced a fresh flower with dewdrops, placing it in her hair.
In his obliviousness, that invisible crack widened day by day. Until the King of Yan declared that a holy maiden would be selected from among the nobility and offered as a gift of peace to Xia.
Tu’er broke down his uncle’s door: “Why Shan Yi? You know that she and I…”
The King only replied: “Her status is most suitable.”
Tu’er turned over in the darkness and said softly: “Just a few more days of patience. Don’t make any mistakes.”
Ha Qina: “Understood.”
Prince Duan’s faction held late-night meetings, wearing out countless strands of hair and rejecting countless plans, all to ensure that Tu’er could not only successfully assassinate, but also take out the Empress Dowager along the way.
Trying to gather the Emperor, Empress Dowager, and the Yan people in one place at this time was as difficult as climbing to heaven.
The Empress Dowager and Emperor were at odds, and she was still looking for opportunities to kill the envoys. With such open hostility, even a fool of an Emperor wouldn’t let her near the diplomatic mission.
Prince Duan had been patiently laying the groundwork for so many years, seeking nothing but legitimacy, and wanting to take the throne righteously. So borrowing the hands of the Yan people to eliminate two major rivals at once was crucial for him.
His confidants pulled out countless more strands of hair before finally coming up with an astounding strategy.
They reported to Xiahou Bo in such a manner, and even he raised his eyebrows: “Fortune favors the bold, indeed.”
Confidant: “This plan is indeed dangerous, with many variables. I cannot guarantee success. Perhaps… could Consort Xie make a divination?”
Xie Yong’er was something of a celebrity within Prince Duan’s faction.
Not only because of the scandalous rumors between her and Prince Duan that couldn’t be cut off but also because her suggestions often came like strokes of genius, seemingly incredible yet always prescient, as if she could glimpse the mysteries of heaven, predicting the future with unerring accuracy.
Upon hearing this name, Xiahou Bo paused.
Consort Xie had miscarried on the night of the Millennial Banquet, and after the commotion between the Empress Dowager and the Emperor, everyone knew about it. The confidants had some speculation about the father of her child and now couldn’t help but glance at the Prince with curiosity, trying to gauge his feelings on the matter.
Xiahou Bo summoned a scout: “How is Consort Xie doing in the palace?”
Scout: “After the miscarriage, she has a fever and cannot get up. The Emperor was furious, saying he would thoroughly investigate the matter and regulate the harem. He also sent guards to protect her while she recuperates.”
The claim to regulate the harem was hollow, as no children had been born in the harem for years, and everyone knew who was to blame.
The confidants’ curious gazes grew more intense, seemingly wanting to see if their master truly possessed human emotions and feelings.
Xiahou Bo paused for slightly longer than usual, his brow faintly tinged with worry.
The confidants inexplicably felt relieved, but then heard him say: “The child is already lost, so there should be no one who would harm her anymore. Assigning guards to protect her at this time seems somewhat suspicious.”
The confidants: “.”
Is that your only thought?
Is this still a human?
Xiahou Bo: “In any case, find a way to send a note to her, saying I wish to meet with her.”
At this moment, Xie Yong’er had no idea she was at the center of such a storm.
She slept in a daze, and when she awoke startled, her mind was still confused. The tears that had pooled in her eyes rolled down at once, seeping into the pillow.
“Who did you dream about?” someone asked beside the bed.
Xie Yong’er turned her head groggily; Xiahou Dan was looking down at her.
“You were apologizing repeatedly,” Xiahou Dan’s lips curled with sarcasm, “Did you dream of Prince Duan? Are you sorry to him that the child is gone?”
Xie Yong’er stared at him blankly: “No.”
Xiahou Dan: “Then who? Surely not me?”
Xie Yong’er came to her senses and remained silent.
Xiahou Dan clicked his tongue: “Just tell me. We don’t need to pretend anymore anyway. You’re as good as dead—”
“Alright, alright, let me handle this.” Yu Wanyin poked her head out from behind him, reached out to feel Xie Yong’er’s forehead, and said with relief, “The fever has finally broken. These ancient medical conditions are truly terrifying. How are you feeling? Would you like some water?”
Xie Yong’er still didn’t speak.
Yu Wanyin turned to push Xiahou Dan: “Go out first, I need to talk with her.”
Xiahou Dan was bewildered: “Why are you sending me away?”
Yu Wanyin kept giving him meaningful looks: “It’s fine, leave it to me.”
She closed the door and returned to Xie Yong’er’s side: “Are you still feeling unwell?”
Xie Yong’er struggled to sit up, leaned against the headboard, and forced herself to ask with as much energy as she could muster: “You don’t need to play good cop, bad cop. Just tell me, what do you want from me?”
Yu Wanyin smiled: “Fine, I’ll be direct. Prince Duan sent a note, asking to meet you privately tonight in that broken building in the Cold Palace.”
Xie Yong’er closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath: “So you have to let me out tonight to meet him.”
“What, if we don’t let you go, are you hoping he’ll break in to rescue you?”
“No. If he discovers something unusual, I’ll lose his trust, and then I’ll lose my value to you. You want to recruit me just to extract intelligence from him, right?”
Yu Wanyin paused, muttering: “You’re quite clever now.”
Xie Yong’er said angrily: “I’ve always been clever! I lost to you because of information asymmetry, don’t get it wrong!”
“You lost to me? That’s not right. We never had anything to compete over.”
“At this point, to say such pretty words—”
Yu Wanyin said seriously: “If we must say it, haven’t you lost to Prince Duan?”
Xie Yong’er: “…”
Yu Wanyin looked at her pale face for a while, then suddenly went to fetch a cosmetics box, saying: “Turn around.”
Xie Yong’er: “What are you doing?”
“Aren’t you going on a date tonight? I’m doing your makeup.” Yu Wanyin held her shoulders and turned her so she was facing away, then picked up a comb and began combing her hair. “Girls’ dormitory gossip time—haven’t you experienced that before?”
Xie Yong’er: “It’s useless, don’t try to appeal to my emotions.”
Yu Wanyin remained unmoved and started gossiping: “So you did dream about Xiahou Bo just now?”
Xie Yong’er pressed her lips tightly together, clearly adopting a policy of non-violent non-cooperation.
“So humble?” Yu Wanyin shook her head repeatedly. “Do you still remember that you are a modern woman? He knew the Empress Dowager would force you to miscarry, yet he still let you get pregnant. You’re apologizing to such a heartless, disloyal dog of a man…”
Xie Yong’er couldn’t keep quiet anymore: “I told you it wasn’t him.”
“Then who? It certainly wasn’t Xiahou Dan either.” Yu Wanyin frowned, thinking for a long time, then suddenly exclaimed in surprise, “Could it be me? Have you finally had a revelation and understood how good I’ve been to you?”
Xie Yong’er: “…”
Yu Wanyin looked moved: “Sister, congratulations on finally seeing the light. No need to apologize though, I’m quite broad-minded…”
Xie Yong’er couldn’t bear it anymore: “It was my mother.”
“?”
Xie Yong’er lowered her head, still facing away: “Maybe it’s because I learned about your identities, but I dreamed about something from before I transmigrated here. Before I came here, I was arguing with her over trivial matters, and never had the chance to apologize.”
Yu Wanyin had originally approached this conversation with the mindset of completing a quest, but now she couldn’t help but pause.
Xie Yong’er had always been speaking with the affected tone of an ancient person, but now speaking so frankly, it made Yu Wanyin feel, for the first time, that they were truly “of the same kind.”
Yu Wanyin thought for a moment: “Before I came here, I had a phone call with my mom. She asked when I would be coming home, and I said I’d go on the weekend. Her tone sounded mysterious, maybe she had learned to make some new snack and wanted to cook it for me.”
Xie Yong’er raised her head slightly.
But Yu Wanyin fell silent, the atmosphere around her becoming dejected.
Xie Yong’er: “Where are you from?”
Yu Wanyin’s heart suddenly skipped a beat. Were the city names in “Demon’s Favored Consort” consistent with those in the real world?
She continued combing and tentatively mentioned the most generic one: “Beijing. What about you?”
Xie Yong’er: “City A. Where is Beijing?”
Yu Wanyin: “…A small county town. It’s normal if you haven’t heard of it; it’s quite far from where you are.”
Xie Yong’er: “Oh? Is your local cuisine very developed?”
Yu Wanyin wasn’t actually from Beijing, but confident that “Demon’s Favored Consort” never mentioned it, she casually made something up: “It’s alright. Have you heard of Douzhir? It’s delicious.”
Xie Yong’er indeed responded with regret: “I’ve never had it.”
“Then you’ve missed out on too much.”
While Yu Wanyin was styling Xie Yong’er’s hair, a grand scheme was slowly taking shape.
Before the grand scheme was complete, each piece believed itself not to be part of the game.
Like the Empress Dowager.
The Empress Dowager was trimming her beloved potted plants with scissors when a senior palace maid quietly announced: “Lord Mu Yun seeks an audience.”
This Mu Yun was a minor official in the Empress Dowager’s faction, with a slight stutter that made him seem honest and straightforward, often mocked by his colleagues.
Three days remained until the peace agreement would be signed, and the Empress Dowager was irritated that she couldn’t kill the Yan envoys. She asked impatiently: “What could he possibly want?”
Senior maid: “He says he has a plan.”
Empress Dowager: “?”
Mu Yun entered, trembling anxiously: “This humble official believes that His Majesty is now pro-protecting those Yan people like a hen guards her chicks. It’s not ad-advisable to confront him directly…”
The Empress Dowager snipped off a stray branch with a “snip” sound: “What do you propose, Lord Mu? Please speak freely.”
Mu Yun became even more nervous: “Be-Be-Be…”
He stuttered “Be” for a long time without continuation, but the Empress Dowager had already figured it out, her eyes brightening.
Bei Mountain.
On Bei Mountain, there was a mausoleum under construction, built by Xiahou Dan for the Empress Dowager, which was about to be completed.
This was an important matter; the Emperor should accompany the Empress Dowager to inspect it.
Bei Mountain was far outside the capital. Mu Yun was giving her a legitimate reason to lure Xiahou Dan out of the city. Once the Emperor was far away, they could suddenly strike and kill the envoys.
By the time the Emperor realized what had happened, it would be too late. With the envoys dead, hostility between the two countries would be inevitable. Even if Prince Duan didn’t want war, he would have to fight.
Mu Yun was still stuttering: “Be-Bei Moun-Mountain…”
Empress Dowager: “Brilliant.”
Mu Yun: “?”
The Empress Dowager had watched as the Emperor grew more assertive day by day. The façade that needed to be torn had been torn, and her tolerance for him had reached its limit.
Her crimson nails plucked a flower, toying with it between her fingers: “Let’s do this. Early tomorrow morning, I will go up the mountain with him.”
Mu Yun smiled ingratiatingly: “He-he won’t be able to re-refuse this reason.”
The Empress Dowager crushed the petals in her five fingers and tossed them into the soil: “I didn’t realize you were so clever.”
Mu Yun’s smile froze for a moment.
The Empress Dowager smiled: “Very well, once we leave, the affairs in the city will be in your hands. If this succeeds, I will record your merit.”
Mu Yun was overjoyed: “Th-thank you, Empress Dowager!”
He backed out with repeated bows, and before exiting the door, gave her one last glance with eyes that looked at her as if she were already dead.
The Empress Dowager was busy instructing palace servants to notify Xiahou Dan and didn’t notice.
Thus, a great storm arose from the smallest beginning.
Yu Wanyin had finished styling Xie Yong’er’s hair and was now holding her face to apply makeup.
Yu Wanyin: “Your eyebrow shape is quite nice.”
Xie Yong’er: “In this era, they’re too thick. I need to shave some off. These ancient people have no aesthetic sense.”
Yu Wanyin: “…”
Yu Wanyin: “Indeed.”
After this girls’ dormitory gossip session, Xie Yong’er’s tone had completely modernized, and much of the resentment and depression in her expression had faded.
Yu Wanyin chatted with her about food, entertainment, student days, terrible bosses, and difficult clients. These distant words intertwined in the air, creating a realm of fantasy. Immersed in it, Xie Yong’er seemed to temporarily forget her situation, becoming a white-collar worker again.
Xie Yong’er suddenly sighed: “Thinking back, the days since I came here feel so unreal.”
Yu Wanyin had achieved her goal, but her chest felt somewhat constricted.
Xie Yong’er didn’t know that even as a white-collar worker, she had never been real.
Every chess piece believed itself not to be part of the game.
Like Tu’er.
A hidden arrow pierced through the window paper of the guest residence, carrying a forceful wind straight toward Tu’er.
Tu’er’s body shifted slightly. Others couldn’t even see how he moved, but the arrow was already in his hand.
There was a note attached to the arrow.
Ha Qina frowned deeply: “Prince, quickly let go, be careful of poison on the arrow.”
Tu’er heeded the advice and dropped the arrow, turning to look at the hole in the window paper: “It was shot from across the street.”
Ha Qina rushed forward two steps, picked up the note using a handkerchief to cover his fingers, and opened it to look. Surprised, he said: “It’s in the Yan language.”
The paper had Yan’s text: “Tomorrow the Emperor goes to Bei Mountain. Someone wants to kill you. Be careful.”
The signature wasn’t text, but a flower.
Ha Qina: “What is this person hinting at? Has our identity been exposed? Does he know we plan to kill the Emperor?”
Tu’er pondered.
If their identity had been exposed, yet they were still comfortably staying in the guest residence, it meant the person hadn’t reported them yet.
Could there be compatriots hidden in the city, silently assisting them in this final battle?
Ha Qina: “Prince, these Xia people are all treacherous. Can we trust this?”
Tu’er was still staring at the little bell-shaped flower outlined in ink.
This was Shan Yi’s favorite flower; he had once placed it in her hair. They called it the camel bellflower. Somehow, it always made him faintly hear the sound of Shan Yi’s ornaments when she danced—ding ding dang dang, delicate and ethereal.
When she married Xia, the women of the tribe had embroidered this flower on her clothing.
A few months later, news of her death reached Yan.
The Xia people claimed she had attempted assassination; the King of Yan accused Xia of framing an innocent and killing a holy maiden. The fragile peace lasted only a few months before war rekindled.
Shan Yi was the most wonderful person in the world.
If she had continued to age, perhaps she would have been tainted by worldliness, lost her luster, and no longer deserved the title of “most wonderful.” But she never had that chance.
Yu Wanyin: “So, what exactly do you like about Prince Duan? Is it his heartlessness, or his iron-like indifference?”
Xie Yong’er didn’t answer.
Yu Wanyin nudged her: “Tell me.”
“You know he’s heartless.” Xie Yong’er finally spoke after a while. “I’m not very beautiful, my intelligence isn’t sufficient either, and he even discovered I was different, but he still accepted me.”
Yu Wanyin: “…”
Xie Yong’er: “I thought I was special. Unfortunately, the deeper I fell, the more distant he became. And the more distant he became, the more unwilling I was to give up.”
“Unwilling?”
Xie Yong’er bit her lip: “Since you’re also a transmigrator, you should know that in the original story, your character was deeply entangled with him, drowning in love and hatred.” For Xie Yong’er, this original work was “East Wind Releases Thousands of Flowers at Night.”
Yu Wanyin: “…”
Xie Yong’er: “Why doesn’t it work when it’s me?”
Yu Wanyin felt a chill in her heart as she listened.
All of Xie Yong’er’s little insecurities and minor entanglements, though they seemed to come from free will, were written into “Demon’s Favored Consort.”
Could it be… that her obsession with Prince Duan was just part of her character settings?
Yu Wanyin didn’t want to analyze in that direction; such a sense of predetermined fate was too suffocating.
Besides, if character settings were immutable, why hadn’t Prince Duan, as the male lead, fallen in love with Xie Yong’er? Yu Wanyin preferred to believe that free will did exist, but Xie Yong’er’s wasn’t strong enough.
“I think you might misunderstand Xiahou Bo,” she whispered like a demon tempting a monk to fall, “How should I put it? He seems to lack those… worldly desires.”
Xie Yong’er paused, her tone growing colder: “He has them for you. Even though I changed the plot, I can still sense it. The way he looks at you is different.”
“No,” Yu Wanyin wanted to shake this lovesick woman awake, “He doesn’t have them for anyone. He’s the type of excellent villain who’s completely focused on his ambitions!”
Xie Yong’er: “?”
Every chess piece believed itself not to be part of the game.
Like Xiahou Dan.
When the Empress Dowager used the pretext of inspecting the mausoleum, Xiahou Dan indeed couldn’t refuse. Even knowing she was trying to lure the tiger away from the mountain, he couldn’t be unfilial and refuse to accompany her.
When the news came, he could only instruct his secret guards: “Tonight, secretly contact the envoys and move them elsewhere to hide. Take several detours to shake off the Empress Dowager’s spies. Add more guards outside the guest residence as a diversion.”
The secret guard accepted the order and was about to leave when Xiahou Dan added: “While protecting them, keep an eye on them too. Don’t let them run around.”
Theoretically, he didn’t need to be especially concerned about the envoys’ safety, because this time Prince Duan should also be actively promoting the peace talks. If the Empress Dowager made a move, Prince Duan wouldn’t stand by and do nothing.
But vaguely, he felt something wasn’t right.
Because he still hadn’t received any news from Wang Zhao. From the beginning, they had been suspicious about the envoys’ intentions.
Prince Duan had been quiet for a long time, watching the struggle between him and the Empress Dowager from the sidelines, quiet to an abnormal degree.
Or perhaps it was simply because, given the world’s malice toward him, the peace talks wouldn’t go smoothly. Unusual events must hide something sinister.
Xiahou Dan: “Where is Consort Yu?”
Palace servant: “Still with Consort Xie.”
Is this good cop routine not finished yet? Are they planning to perform an 81-episode drama?
Xiahou Dan’s expression soured as he rose and walked toward Xie Yong’er’s quarters.
Meanwhile, the chess player sat calmly in Prince Duan’s residence.
Xiahou Bo was resting with his eyes closed. The more dangerous the move, the calmer he became.
A scout was reporting: “Tu’er has received the note.”
Reporting simultaneously was another person, the same Mu Yun who had just offered a plan to the Empress Dowager: “The Empress Dowager said she will go to the mountain tomorrow and has tasked me with killing the envoys.”
Xiahou Bo opened his eyes and smiled: “Well done, everyone. Tomorrow is when we cast the net.”
The sun was setting, and the time for Prince Duan’s meeting with Xie Yong’er was approaching.
When Xiahou Dan entered the room, Yu Wanyin and Xie Yong’er’s conversation had reached a dead end.
Xiahou Dan ignored them and walked straight to Xie Yong’er: “The Empress Dowager wants me to accompany her to Bei Mountain early tomorrow. Is Prince Duan behind this?”
Xie Yong’er: “…I don’t know.”
Xiahou Dan: “He arranged to meet you tonight. What does he want to say?”
Xie Yong’er: “I don’t know. I don’t know.”
Xiahou Dan gave a derisive laugh and said to Yu Wanyin: “I told you, it’s a waste of effort.”
Xie Yong’er felt like she’d been hit with a hammer, but couldn’t argue. If she were in their position, she wouldn’t trust herself either.
Yu Wanyin took a deep breath.
“Yong’er, there are some things I didn’t want to show you.”
She took out a book from her bosom.
Xiahou Dan’s eyebrow twitched, and he raised his hand as if instinctively wanting to stop her, but he controlled himself midway.
Yu Wanyin gave him a reassuring look: “Xu Yao, you remember him, right? These are his records from when he was alive, containing Prince Duan’s secret plans. You should know we couldn’t have forged this.”
Xie Yong’er’s face changed: “How did you get this?”
Yu Wanyin: “What kind of question is that? We’re all transmigrators here. Who are you looking down on?”
Xie Yong’er: “…”
Yu Wanyin had delayed using this trump card, originally hesitating because the book contained two final critical actions against Xiahou Dan that hadn’t yet been carried out—apparently waiting until after the Empress Dowager was defeated.
And Yu Wanyin had been holding back, wanting to use their tactics against them.
Once Xie Yong’er knew they had this book, she could immediately tell Prince Duan, and the book would lose its remaining value.
But when Yu Wanyin heard that Xiahou Dan was going to Bei Mountain, her eyelid suddenly twitched. Although she couldn’t explain why, she had an almost instinctive sense of urgency: tonight, they must probe Prince Duan’s true intentions. And for that, she needed to convince Xie Yong’er now.
Yu Wanyin bit her lip and handed over the book: “Look through it yourself.”
Prince Duan’s residence.
Mu Yun now stood straight, no longer stuttering: “Your Highness, will Tu’er believe that note?”
Xiahou Bo: “It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t believe it now. Tomorrow when you go to capture them, you might as well make the biggest commotion possible, forcing them to believe. Then create an opening for them to escape. By then…”
Mu Yun: “By then, Tu’er will realize that Bei Mountain’s open terrain provides their best opportunity.”
Neither the Empress Dowager nor the Emperor was aware of who was coming—Yan’s top warrior, aiming for the Emperor’s head.
Which meant neither could make the appropriate defensive arrangements.
In the palace, layers of imperial guards could still put up a fight. But on Bei Mountain, in the wilderness, guards could watch the spirit path but not the forests from all directions.
Tu’er was known to fight a hundred men alone on the battlefield, and he came prepared. Xiahou Bo did not doubt his skills.
With this advantage of knowledge, the handful of men on the mountain could be eliminated.
Even if the Yan people encountered difficulties, they had help. All along the way, Prince Duan’s people would escort them.
Mu Yun: “I’ll go prepare things at the city gate first. Also, should we send some men to ambush in the forest?”
Xiahou Bo nodded in approval: “With this, forces from all sides should be gathered.”
This was the plan that Prince Duan’s faction had pulled out their hair to devise.
In the palace.
As Xie Yong’er kept turning the pages, she gradually froze.
Xu Yao’s book contained many plans that looked quite familiar, all based on her suggestions. In the early plot, the story hadn’t deviated from the original, so she could predict many future events, offering ideas to Prince Duan as detailed as “meet someone at a certain place on a certain day of a certain month.”
But not one of these plans recorded by Xu Yao matched her suggestions completely.
Whether it was the date, time, or specific location, there were always small, deliberate changes.
Being confined in the palace, Xie Yong’er’s communication with Prince Duan relied entirely on messages and secret meetings; she couldn’t possibly know all of Prince Duan’s actions.
There was once a time when she suggested that Prince Duan turn the Deputy Commander of the Imperial Guards by enticing him to seduce the Commander’s concubine. But she overheard Prince Duan discussing with his strategists, changing the plan to drugging a horse, framing the Deputy Commander, and then using that to blackmail him.
At that time, she felt somewhat hurt but suppressed her questions to Xiahou Bo, convincing herself that the modified plan was indeed more secure.
But looking at it today, most of the modifications had nothing to do with “security.”
“He never accepted you,” Xiahou Dan delivered the final blow, “Not only did he not accept you, he was guarding against you.”
Xie Yong’er’s face turned as white as paper.
Xiahou Dan continued coldly: “Xiahou Bo is much more realistic than you. From the first time you predicted him, you became a time bomb in his eyes that could still be used. Different is different; no one develops feelings for someone different.”
He pronounced the word “different” with particular hardness. Yu Wanyin found it jarring and gently poked him.
Xiahou Dan finished anyway: “If he takes the throne, you’ll be the first to die.”
In the silence, Yu Wanyin picked up the brush again and applied the final touch to her lips: “The makeup is done. Go meet him.”
Seeing that she remained silent, Yu Wanyin held a mirror in front of her: “Look, are you satisfied?”
Xie Yong’er glanced at it absentmindedly, her pupils contracting.
This makeup hadn’t compromised with ancient aesthetics at all. From the contouring to the eye shadow, it was fierce and imposing, so modern that she almost saw her former self.
It was as if the word “different” was written all over her face.
Yu Wanyin smiled: “I’ve wanted to do this makeup for myself for a long time, but I was afraid you’d notice. Now that we’re being honest with each other, there’s nothing to hide anymore. Are you afraid for him to see you like this?”
Prince Duan’s residence.
Xiahou Bo said to Mu Yun: “You’ve worked hard these days.”
Mu Yun was Prince Duan’s most capable strategist. He had been sent to infiltrate the Empress Dowager’s faction as a mole, keeping a low profile for years, even more adept at blending in than the late Lord Wei. But Prince Duan, with his meticulous mind, became somewhat suspicious seeing how well he navigated both sides.
To prove his loyalty, he offered Prince Duan many brilliant strategies, subtly replacing Xu Yao’s position. He had also led this current plan.
Even so, there were inevitably some variables in this hasty situation.
For instance, would the Yan people act according to their expectations? Would Xiahou Dan or the Empress Dowager catch wind of this beforehand?
If this battle succeeded, and the fate of the empire fell into Prince Duan’s hands, he would be the primary meritorious official. But if anything went wrong…
Thinking of this, Mu Yun’s palms were sweating: “To ensure absolute success, Your Highness might ask Consort Xie again tonight.”