Officials in the Imperial City walked in small groups, looking the same as before, yet different.

In the earliest days, officials would split into two groups—one surrounding Imperial Tutor Deng Yi, and another following Xie Yanfang.

Later, when Imperial Tutor Deng Yi was gone, they followed Xie Yanfang as their leader.

Now Xie Yanfang was also gone, and the officials seemed lost, with no one to follow.

“What should we do next?” someone whispered.

“Just wait,” another sighed. “Endure a little longer until His Majesty takes personal rule.”

Behind them, someone snorted coldly: “So some people couldn’t wait to harm the Empress.”

Hearing this, everyone turned to look at the official.

“Minister Xue, your words are incorrect,” an official immediately raised his eyebrows and shouted. “It was the Empress who couldn’t wait to harm others.”

“Who harmed whom, everyone knows in their hearts,” Minister Xue refused to back down.

That official sneered: “Is that so? Are we judging intentions now? Too bad there’s no Guard Office to arrest me and determine right from wrong.”

Most of the Guard Office personnel had died at the hunting grounds, and the remainder were imprisoned. The Guard Office entrance was sealed with notices—overnight, the Guard Office ceased to exist.

Just as the Empress’s figure no longer appeared in court.

Minister Xue’s eyes flashed with desolation, and his demeanor became subdued. Other officials hurriedly intervened, separating the two and leading them away.

“Minister Xue,” one official sighed, “victory and defeat have been decided. Some words are better kept to yourself.”

Regardless of who wanted to harm whom, the Empress had lost. The defeated were considered villains, while the Xie clan had won and were heroes.

Minister Xue’s face tightened, his hand clenched at his side. Was this how it was? The defeated became criminals?

“Look,” that official suddenly said, lifting his chin toward the front. “Someone is going to the Imperial Tutor’s Hall.”

After Deng Yi, no new Imperial Tutor had been appointed, but the Imperial Tutor’s Hall remained in use. The Empress often went there to handle court affairs, and when the Empress was away on campaign, Xie Yanfang would go.

Now that the Empress had fled as a criminal and Xie Yanfang was injured, who had come?

……

……

Outside the Imperial Tutor’s Hall, officials gathered, occasionally peering inside. The interior was also filled with officials, though lacking the bustling atmosphere of before.

They held documents in their hands, watching the man who sat reclined at the desk.

Guards and attendants stood solemnly behind him.

The mask on his face made everyone’s gaze uncertain, and the object he tossed in his hand made them even more bewildered.

The Imperial Seal.

“The Third Young Master is recovering from serious injuries, and His Majesty is still young. As a family member, I’m here to oversee things for them,” the man’s voice carried a hint of hoarseness.

With his face hidden and voice indiscernible of age, his figure suggested he was still young.

A young master of the Xie family.

The Xie clan had always lived peacefully in Dongyang; no one knew much about them except for Xie Yanfang and the deceased Xie Yanlai.

“How should we address you, Young Master?” an official asked. “Are you replacing the Third Young Master as Censor-in-Chief?”

The man looked at him: “No need to ask how to address me. I’m not taking any official position, nor will I attend court. I’m just helping supervise and using the Imperial Seal to approve your memorials.” He then pointed to the document in the official’s hands. “Come, read your matters for me to hear.”

Although some officials looked complex and hesitant, the Xie clan’s supporters knew beforehand and stepped forward one after another, reporting their affairs for approval.

The officials standing outside the hall witnessed this scene and exchanged glances. What was this?

“At least the Regent Imperial Tutor had an official title,” an official whispered.

A title was also a constraint, as both court officials and the world watched.

Without a title or position, the world remained unaware, yet he held everything in his hands. Wasn’t this like the legendary “controlling the emperor from behind the scenes”?

An official sneered: “With the Empress eliminated and the Xie clan dominating, naturally they can do as they please. With or without titles, they decide everything.”

“Just endure,” another official said resignedly. “Endure until His Majesty takes personal rule.”

Would things improve when His Majesty took personal rule? Many silent officials wondered privately.

A sharp sound rang out as a memorial was slammed on the table, making everyone jump and stop their musings to look inside.

An official’s face had turned red.

“Are you pleading innocence for Empress Chu?” the masked man asked.

The gaze behind the mask was icy cold, and the swords of the guards nearby gleamed with frost. The tension in the hall reminded everyone of that morning court session.

It was said that the Emperor and Empress had returned overnight from the hunting grounds and announced an early morning court session the next day.

Everyone originally thought that Zhu Yong had arrested innocent people and quarreled with officials, disturbing the Emperor and Empress, causing their hasty return. Unexpectedly, the next day at court, while the Emperor appeared, the Empress was nowhere to be seen, nor was Xie Yanfang. A group of guards surrounded the hall, and an attendant stood before the hall announcing that the Empress had plotted rebellion and fled in fear of punishment.

The hall erupted in chaos.

News of the disturbance at the hunting grounds outside the capital had spread, including accounts from officials who witnessed the battle scene.

“Zhu Yong deliberately led us there. We saw him rush in with a sword—”

“Many people were fighting, and fire burned half the forest—”

Although more than half a month had passed, officials still felt dazed.

The Empress had simply vanished.

Yet she hadn’t truly disappeared. Some officials still insisted on mentioning her, demanding answers—

The official who questioned publicly earlier was one, and now another official had written a memorial.

Others looked at that official with sympathy and helplessness. How could so many people be so muddleheaded? Did they want to be arrested as the Empress’s accomplices and have their entire families executed?

But regardless of those stares, the official raised his head without the slightest retreat.

“As a Censor, I request an investigation into the Empress’s alleged treason.”

“We need witness testimonies and physical evidence, and a thorough investigation of the hunting grounds.”

“The Empress was entrusted by the late Emperor to fight Western Liang and suppress rebellion, earning a distinguished reputation. Without clarity, it will be difficult to pacify the realm.”

The hall grew even more silent, suffocating, until the masked man let out a mocking laugh.

“My dear Minister,” he said, “One unsolved case won’t affect the entire realm.”

He threw the memorial at the official.

“Rejected.”

The official was struck by the memorial and stepped back, but refused to give up: “As a Censor, I—”

“Then stop being a Censor!” the masked man shouted. “Drag him out!”

Guards stepped forward and carried the official away.

“I am—”

The official’s voice was quickly silenced.

The hall soon returned to silence. The masked man’s gaze swept across everyone, asking: “Who else wants to investigate?”

No one else spoke up.

The masked man leaned back and waved his hand: “Alright, we’re done for today. I’m tired. Other matters can wait until next time.”

Tired… he truly didn’t take this seriously. Officials filed out, and those waiting outside hurriedly dispersed.

The Imperial Tutor’s Hall fell quiet again.

“Young Master,” an attendant respectfully asked, “would you like to dine?”

The masked man looked at the memorials piled on the desk and said: “Carry these to His Majesty.” He stood up. “And I’ll have a meal as well.”

……

……

In the Emperor’s chambers, attendants came and went bringing imperial meals, while palace maids skillfully and silently arranged dishes. Though many people were present, the atmosphere was as dead as still water, without a hint of vitality.

Xiao Yu sat at the table, mechanically eating whatever the palace maids served him.

Someone strode in.

Without announcement or introduction, the attendants all made way upon seeing him.

He approached the table and pulled out a chair to sit down.

A palace maid set out bowls and chopsticks for him.

Then all attendants and palace maids withdrew, leaving only the two of them in the hall.

“I’ve sent the memorials to your study. Go look at them after you eat,” he said, never once looking at Xiao Yu.

Xiao Yu raised his head: “Uncle—”

“My dear nephew,” the man said with an ambiguous smile, raising his hand to remove his mask, revealing a pair of phoenix eyes. “If you don’t want to look at them, you don’t have to. I’ve already reviewed everything for you.”

His eyes were smiling, and his words were gentle. He called him nephew; before, he had never called him nephew, only addressing him as “Your Majesty.”

But there was no warmth in this scene, and Xiao Yu felt no comfort, only a bitter coldness.

Just like what he had witnessed at the palace gates as a child.

Except now, there was no warm hand around him.