Deng Ying gazed at Yang Wan standing before him, his heart gripped by an indescribable cold ache.

Just at the Huiji Gate, she had hidden behind him to avoid Zheng Yuejia’s formal greeting.

Now he wanted to pull her back, back behind him.

But he also realized that all along, Yang Wan’s courage and fears seemed to run counter to everyone else’s.

“Heh.”

Zhang Luo’s low laugh sent chills through many of the officials present.

He walked down the stone steps, rainwater splashing loudly beneath his feet.

Step by step, he approached Yang Wan. “Accept punishment, you say? What kind of punishment?”

Without any hesitation, he reversed his sword handle and struck sharply at the back of Yang Wan’s knees.

Yang Wan wasn’t prepared and immediately fell to the rainy ground.

A pain that robbed her of speech shot through her knees, but she also realized that Zhang Luo probably hadn’t used his full strength – otherwise, that single strike would likely have shattered her bones.

“Yang Wan!”

Hearing Deng Ying’s voice, Zhang Luo didn’t even look up as he called out to the nearby Imperial Guards: “Hold down that servant.”

Then he turned to Yang Lun and said: “This is her lesson for offending a superior.”

With that, he ordered his horse brought over, mounted it, and looking down at Deng Ying, spat out: “You two are utterly despicable.”

“Zhang Luo, stop right there!”

Seeing him ride off, Yang Lun immediately moved to chase after him, but Yang Wan quickly called out: “Don’t chase him!”

She struggled to stand but sucked in a sharp breath of pain. Deng Ying hurriedly supported her arm.

Yang Lun anxiously snapped from the side: “Who gave you permission to touch her!”

Deng Ying froze, but Yang Wan grabbed his sleeve. “Don’t be foolish and let go – if you do, I’ll fall.”

Deng Ying quickly said, “All right, I won’t let go. Can you stand steady?”

Yang Wan tried to straighten her legs, saying through the pain, “It’s fine, I can walk. He didn’t use much force, I just fell.”

Seeing Yang Wan holding onto Deng Ying, Yang Lun couldn’t say anything more to him, instead turning to curse aloud: “This Northern Depot has nearly abandoned all law!”

Yang Wan gave a bitter smile. “Isn’t he the law? Executing the Emperor’s will.”

Yang Lun said: “That’s the principle, but taken to extremes he’s just a madman – who can restrain him?”

Hearing these words, Yang Wan couldn’t help but look at Deng Ying beside her.

During the reigns of both Zhenning and Jinghe, it had been Deng Ying as Director of the Eastern Depot, checked and balanced the Imperial Guard.

Yang Lun didn’t know that the “who” he spoke of was standing right in front of him.

“Someone will be able to keep him in check. Right?”

Deng Ying realized she was saying this to him.

He didn’t know how to answer, but he didn’t want to disappoint her.

“Right.”

He instinctively gave this one-word response.

Yang Lun hadn’t paid attention to their exchange, bending down to examine Yang Wan’s injury, but unable to have her exposed skin in public, he could only gently squeeze her leg. “Are you all right?”

Yang Wan gritted her teeth and shook her head, “I’m fine, it might just be a bit swollen.”

Deng Ying said to Yang Lun: “I’m sorry, Lord Yang. I submit to whatever punishment you deem fit.”

Yang Lun scolded: “Do you take me for a fool? Zhang Luo was the one who hurt her.”

Yang Wan let go of Deng Ying. “It’s fine, I’m all right. You should go in now. Don’t delay the proper time.”

Deng Ying stood motionless.

Yang Wan pressed her lips together, forcing a smile for him. “Go on, I’ll wait for you outside.”

Deng Ying freed one hand to hold the umbrella over her. “Let me help you inside to sit.”

Yang Wan shook her head. “No need. I can’t kneel at the memorial hall like this, and… my heart isn’t sincere. I fear I would offend the deceased inside.”

Yang Lun pulled Yang Wan to his side and looked up at Deng Ying: “All right, you go now. Don’t let her down. I’ll take care of my sister.”

Yang Wan nodded at Deng Ying, following Yang Lun’s words.

“Go on, I’ll wait to return to the palace with you.”

Only then did Deng Ying step back, bowing deeply to Yang Lun before heading toward the memorial hall.

The people at the gate dispersed, each with their thoughts.

Yang Lun asked Yang Wan: “Can you walk?”

“Yes, thank you, Lord Yang.”

For some reason, Yang Wan usually addressed him formally, rarely calling him brother.

This frustrated Yang Lun, but ethics and moral principles were too deeply rooted in his heart – serious words were simply unsuitable for expressing his disappointment as an elder brother.

“I’m sorry, I embarrassed you today.”

She said this while rubbing her hands together.

Yang Lun helped her sit by the temple gate. “Do you feel guilty?”

“Somewhat toward you, but not toward others.”

Yang Lun smiled slightly, taking the umbrella from the servant and having his cloak brought over to give to her.

“Put this on.”

He held the umbrella steady for her and said quietly: “Let it go this time.”

He spoke very softly while adjusting the cloak around her. “I don’t want to see him touch you.”

“Deng Ying?”

“Yes.”

Yang Wan didn’t answer.

Seeing her silence, Yang Lun couldn’t help but ask: “Has he offended you before?”

Yang Wan watched the broken shadows of people in the rain.

“Do you think he would?”

“He wouldn’t dare.”

“Indeed.”

She looked up at Yang Lun. “You put chains on his hands and feet, and want to put shackles on his emotions too. Until now he’s accepted it all, never resisting you all, but I don’t think this is him admitting guilt or showing weakness to you. He just doesn’t want to give up on himself, or you all. Even if you don’t want to listen to him, please don’t join these people in pressuring him. If one day he’s executed by lingchi, both you and I will regret it.”

Yang Lun was startled.

“He told you?”

“Yes. I was shocked too. When he faces you all, his humility isn’t real, but when he faces me, he’s truly afraid.”

She paused, pressing her lips together and lowering her head. “I don’t want to see him like this.”

After hearing this, Yang Lun was silent for a long while.

“Are you blaming me?”

“A little bit.”

Yang Lun nodded.

“Fine, I won’t speak to Deng Ying like that anymore, and you stop giving me such a gloomy face.”

“Thank you.”

After she spoke, a smile flashed briefly across her face.

Yang Lun sighed with a smile and changed the subject: “By the way, there’s something I want to ask you.”

“Mm?”

“About Zheng Yuejia – I heard His Majesty nearly beat him to death but then pardoned him. You’re in the palace, do you know why?”

Yang Wan thought of Consort Ning, and couldn’t help but gloss over it.

“That happened in the Hall of Mental Cultivation. No specific details leaked out.”

Yang Lun rubbed his chin. “There’s something strange about this.”

“What’s strange?”

Yang Lun said: “By rights, once His Majesty ordered the beating, there’s no reason to suddenly take it back.”

Yang Wan asked in return: “Do you think this matter is important?”

Yang Lun shook his head. “I can’t tell now if this is a good thing or a bad thing.”

“Bad thing.”

She said it decisively. “The Grand Secretariat has allowed the Six Offices and Censorate to press their remonstrations, and His Majesty has been angry for more than a day or two. But his killing intent only touched Zheng Yuejia, not to mention the Directorate of Ceremonial or He Yixian. This attitude shows these people have already lost – if this continues, something will eventually happen. This time your Grand Secretariat is staying in the background, but what about the others?”

Yang Lun said: “It won’t come to that.”

Yang Wan continued, “True, the court won’t punish the entire Six Offices. But might they not make examples elsewhere?”

Hearing her say this, Yang Lun suddenly remembered Zhang Luo’s unfinished sentence.

He quickly turned around: “Hold the umbrella well, I need to see the Teacher.”

Yang Wan watched Yang Lun’s retreating figure and took a deep breath, letting it catch in her throat, unwilling to exhale for a long time.

Sometimes, she would have a terrifying illusion.

As if history was made up of the lives and deaths of a group of people.

Early in the twelfth year of Zhenning, Deng Yi was beheaded.

In the summer of Zhenning’s twelfth year, Zhang Zhanchun passed away.

In the autumn of Zhenning’s twelfth year, over eighty people from the Tongjia Academy died in the imperial prison.

…

Some of these people had clear faces in historical records, while some didn’t even have names.

But they made up the joys and sorrows of the Zhenning era and paved the way for those still living – Deng Ying, Yang Lun, Zhang Luo.

If Yang Wan could be a bit more cold-hearted, this was undoubtedly a blood feast hosting her.

But could she enjoy it alone?

Yang Wan shook her head at the silent temple gate.

For now, she could only try not to think too much, quietly waiting for Deng Ying to return.

After about two hours, the person she waited for finally walked out alone, grief visible on his face though well-contained.

Yang Wan stumbled forward, and Deng Ying almost instinctively reached out to support her, forgetting he still held a jade lotus pendant in his hand.

Yang Wan looked down and lifted his hand. “Oh, what’s this…”

“Nothing.”

He hurriedly put the jade pendant in his robes, his movements notably flustered.

Yang Wan watched his nervous manner and tentatively asked:

“Who gave it to you?”

“Teacher left it for me.”

Yang Wan nodded without asking more. “Then keep it safe.”

She gently swayed the umbrella. “Let’s go back.”

“All right.”

She heard his agreement but didn’t immediately move. “I want to hold onto your sleeve while we walk.”

“I can support you while we walk.”

Yang Wan shook her head and grabbed Deng Ying’s sleeve.

“Wait until the day you truly want to support me. By the way, I want to go to your place first to apply some medicine and change clothes. I don’t want the Consort and Lady Jiang to know about today’s events.”

As she spoke, she kept a steady grip on Deng Ying’s sleeve, her body trembling slightly, whether from cold or pain.

Deng Ying turned his head to look at her.

“Are you afraid of Zhang Luo?”

“Yes.”

Yang Wan nodded. “He’s the person I fear most. Not just me – Lord Yang and the others fear him too.”

Hearing these words, Deng Ying fell silent for a moment.

Yang Wan tugged at his sleeve.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Thinking about what you said.”

Yang Wan stopped walking. “Don’t think too much.”

Deng Ying smiled slightly without responding to her words.

The blood feast hosting Yang Wan finally raised its curtain in June of that year.

A month-long literary uproar involved nearly four hundred officials in the capital. The Emperor, furious, ordered the Imperial Guard to publicly cane dozens of officials, including the two censors Huang and Liu. He commanded all officials to gather at the Meridian Gate to witness the punishment.

However, such punishment failed to intimidate these young officials.

Instead, it became new material for the Donglin Party’s memorials. The scholars, eyes red with passion, didn’t fear the public caning and even took pride in it. Their words became increasingly unrestrained, and the matters they involved grew more and more numerous.

Bai Huan still showed no reaction, and Zhang Cong’s several attempts to suppress the situation proved completely ineffective.

On this day, just as Zhang Luo walked out of the Northern Depot, he saw a sedan chair waiting nearby.

“Who is it?”

“This old servant.”

He Yixian responded and got down from the sedan, bowing to Zhang Luo.

Zhang Luo said: “Why has Director He left serving His Majesty to come here?”

He Yixian raised his head. “This old servant is His Majesty’s servant, naturally here on His Majesty’s business.”