On the third day of the third month in the sixth year of Emperor Qian Yuan’s reign, in Xiliang’s capital Yingdu, Prince Jing’an Yu Zixi arrived bearing shocking terrible news. A thunderbolt-like message overturned the court. He then broke through palace gates, crossed the great hall, and ascended the imperial throne. Using a massive cauldron to block the main palace gates, he trapped all civil and military officials who happened to be at court along with the Crown Prince regent inside the Great Ceremony Hall, taking the Prince hostage and attempting to use the regent’s seal to command the nine armies in a plot to usurp the throne.

The news was transmitted to Yan City at the fastest speed, precisely at the critical moment when Qin Chang Ge was pursuing Bai Yuan. Tu Ying’s great shout startled Qin Chang Ge into whirling around, and startled all her subordinates into looking at her.

If she retreated now, Bai Yuan would escape forever. If she continued now – no one would believe a mother could remain indifferent when her only son faced danger.

Qin Chang Ge looked up. In the sky, stars and moon were all hidden, thick clouds gathering.

A thousand li away, her country, her young son, her only remaining relative faced captivity, life and death unknown.

Across the water, on the light boat, Bai Yuan smiled slightly and made a farewell gesture to her.

The Eastern Yan minister who controlled the overall situation with hidden schemes spanning thousands of li, the commanding Bai Yuan who had risen to fame across the six nations after Ruiyi – he had calculated that she would have no choice but to turn back.

Qin Chang Ge’s gaze slowly moved down, settling on Bai Yuan who smiled with infinite radiance.

Then she also smiled at him.

And said: “Pursue!”

Tu Ying nearly tumbled backward in a somersault, hardly daring to believe his ears.

What did the master say? Had the master become confused with anxiety and misspoken? Did the master know what she was saying?

But Qin Chang Ge had already said lightly: “I’m not going back.”

Meeting Tu Ying’s incredulous gaze and that hint of “Master, don’t act on momentary spite against Bai Yuan,” Qin Chang Ge smiled bitterly and helplessly: “I’m not acting on spite, not saying that because Bai Yuan forced me to give up I’ll stubbornly refuse. It’s that going back now would be useless. For the news to reach here, several days have already passed. By the time I rush back, the outcome will surely be settled. If Rong’er escapes danger, why must I return? If Rong’er dies – then my enemy is still Bai Yuan.”

Tu Ying was left speechless, suddenly feeling desolate in his heart. A mother, at the moment her beloved son faced danger, resolutely chose to turn away – what great determination this required!

These supreme individuals standing at the pinnacle of power, because they stood so high their vision was clear and their choices sharp as falcon strikes, beyond ordinary people’s reach. Yet how many could understand or achieve the forbearance and anguish behind that clarity?

Was it impossible to achieve supreme heights without being like this?

Was it impossible to forge souls stronger than ordinary mortals without experiencing bloody stripping and torment?

Tu Ying suddenly felt grateful he was a very ordinary person.

Ahead, Qin Chang Ge had already ordered boats to pursue, suddenly saying lightly: “I still wish to trust him one last time…” She turned her head, her eyes sparkling in the dim night: “You return to the country. If Rong’er hasn’t escaped danger yet, find a way to tell him to seek out Xiao Chen.”

Sighing gently, she said: “I fear it may be too late… but I hope he can think of it himself…”

Had anyone ever attempted a coup with eighteen people, barricading doors to usurp the throne?

Search through all the historical records in the Imperial Archives, deploy a hundred people to dig through dusty old papers from ancient times to the present amid rising smoke and ash, and you probably still wouldn’t find such a case.

But no matter – Prince Jing’an had always excelled at taking unconventional paths, pioneering new precedents.

For five full days, Prince Yu Yu Zixi, who claimed “All under heaven is one family, and I shall be emperor,” used the massive cauldron in the Great Ceremony Hall to block the heavy palace gates, trapping almost every single high-ranking civil and military official of Xiliang who happened to be at court, along with Crown Prince Xiao and the pet dog Hapi that the Crown Prince had secretly brought to the golden hall and placed behind a screen to sleep, all together in the Great Ceremony Hall for a “family gathering.”

Of his eighteen guards, nine remained outside to watch the door, nine inside to watch people. The tens of thousands of guards who arrived were afraid to act against those mere nine door-watchers, because Prince Yu had declared that for every one of his men killed, he would kill someone inside the hall, starting with the Crown Prince.

The guards outside didn’t know what was happening inside. Each was anxious as ants on a hot pot, desperately sending word to the Empress far away in Yan City, hoping she would hurry back to take charge of the situation.

For the officials trapped inside the great hall, these five days were extremely tragic – tragic regarding the problems of eating, drinking, and sleeping. A hole was dug in the door specifically for passing food prepared by the imperial kitchen, but that was for serving His Highness and the Prince. The others had no share. Even when food was sent, Yu Zixi wouldn’t let them eat it, instead feeding Hapi until the dog’s belly was round as a ball, constantly burping. Meanwhile, the officials’ stomachs rumbled loudly in chorus. Those usually pampered people touched their deflated bellies, eyeing the jade delicacies on the imperial table while secretly wiping drool.

The Crown Prince took pity on them and would have Youtiao’er distribute leftover food to everyone. Yu Zixi smiled charmingly without stopping him, but with so many people, how could that little food suffice? Still, having some was better than none. Soon the officials who normally demanded the finest foods were lining up for provisions, carefully cradling their small pieces of meat or fish as if they were pearls from the deep sea aged ten thousand years.

Whenever this happened, the Crown Prince would rest his chin in his hands with a smile to observe the human comedy, while commenting on the officials’ eating manners with Prince Yu, who adopted the identical posture to observe:

Some were gluttonous, immediately swallowing food the moment they received it. Before they could react, the meat had vanished without trace.

Crown Prince’s evaluation: Pig Bajie.

Prince Yu: ? Who is this Pig Bajie?

Crown Prince answered: Pig head, human body, throat made of grinding bricks.

Prince Yu solemnly observed the official for a while, nodded in agreement, and sincerely suggested to His Highness the Crown Prince: This official shouldn’t be given difficult posts in future – poor composure.

The Crown Prince deeply agreed, pulling over the official roster to draw a big pig head on it.

Some chewed slowly and carefully, eating with infinite tenderness. One piece of meat could last half an hour, and afterward they would meticulously lick every bit of precious oil from between their fingers, squeezing their nails to extract drops of meat scraps to eat.

The two observers clicked their tongues while watching this scene with sparkling eyes, continuously exclaiming and shaking their heads.

Crown Prince’s evaluation: Uncle Pons.

Prince Yu: ? Who is this Uncle Pons?

Crown Prince answered: An old man, obsessed with eating.

Prince Yu agreed again and sincerely suggested to His Highness the Crown Prince: This official shouldn’t be given lucrative posts in future – he’ll surely be greedy.

The Crown Prince deeply agreed, pulling over the official roster to draw an old man holding a roasted goose.

After eating came digestion, and after digestion came elimination. Though they ate little, there was still waste to clear from their stomachs. But this wasn’t their home privy – this was the magnificent great hall. Everywhere you looked were golden bricks, jade steps, emerald cauldrons, or treasure boxes. Where could they relieve themselves?

The Crown Prince didn’t need to worry about this problem. Prince Yu had twisted off the neck of a hollow bronze crane before the hall – that break was just the right size for the Crown Prince’s precious parts. The crane’s belly was large enough for anything. When full, Prince Yu would use palm force to seal the break again, then toss it into the inner hall. Prince Yu handled his own needs the same way.

But the officials were pitiful. By the first day’s end, some trembled with clenched legs and pale faces, others clutched their bellies wandering everywhere in tears, some lost control and soiled their pants. Wails never ceased throughout the hall.

Old Jia Duan was a sage, and even sages must eliminate waste. But for face-conscious Old Jia Duan, a scholar could be killed but not humiliated. He could bear hunger but not the need to urinate, especially not public urination. Old Jia Duan trembled and shook, tears streaming down his face as he pointed at Yu Zixi and cursed: “Traitor! This old man won’t spare you even as a ghost!” Then he tried to ram his head against the wall.

Yu Zixi flicked his sleeve, and Old Jia Duan immediately turned direction, crashing into Youtiao’er’s belly. Both groaned and tumbled together. Yu Zixi said with a smile: “Since ancient times, only death has been truly difficult. How can you seek death so easily? You’re a trusted minister entrusted by His Majesty with the heir – have you forgotten your master is in my hands?”

Old Jia Duan suddenly awoke, deciding not to seek death anymore. How could he abandon the Crown Prince? Yu Zixi glanced over and tossed him a bronze crane with its neck twisted off: “You may handle things behind the screen, sir.”

Poor Old Jia Duan carried the bronze crane behind the screen in shame and humiliation, while a group of officials below stretched their necks, infinitely envying his top-level VIP treatment.

There weren’t enough bronze cranes, so the problem still needed solving. Finally, some clever official noticed the massive cauldron blocking the door. He huffed and puffed climbing up to moan happily inside the great cauldron.

Immediately countless officials with green-tinged eyes from holding it in, no longer caring about the sacred nature of items in the Great Ceremony Hall and fearing for their lives, all climbed up the cauldron to relieve themselves joyfully. With so many people naturally producing so much waste, soon there was nowhere to step. The officials began practicing splits. Military officials had advantages over civil officials in this regard. Some officials who really couldn’t split had to hang from the cauldron’s edge to solve things suspended in air. So at that end of the hall, the Crown Prince and Prince again rested their chins in their hands to observe, judging from the expressions of officials outside the cauldron whether they had noble hemorrhoids based on their facial tension.

Though the hall was large enough that the stench didn’t reach the Crown Prince and Prince’s precious noses, psychologically it felt quite uncomfortable. Baozi discussed with Yu Zixi: “Um, could we get a toilet lid?”

Yu Zixi very agreeably waved his sleeve, and the imperial throne’s screen flew up to firmly cover the great cauldron.

So the officials gained another physical task – whenever they needed to eliminate waste, three or more people had to work together to push the cover.

After eating and eliminating came sleeping. This wasn’t a big problem. Though March wasn’t very warm, wrapping themselves in their robes was manageable. It was just that there were too many who ground their teeth, passed gas, or had smelly feet, seriously affecting sleep quality.

The Crown Prince slept on the throne – the bright yellow brocade throne was wide and spacious. He could have slept on his own small throne but insisted on crowding with Yu Zixi, not caring that the person before him was the great villain trying to usurp his throne and kill him. He desperately snuggled into his arms, constantly trying to hold his hand. Yu Zixi pushed him away repeatedly while the hostage persistently charged toward his embrace. They pushed and charged, charged and pushed for a long time until Yu Zixi finally surrendered to the supremely brave Baozi Crown Prince who wouldn’t give up until he reached the enemy’s embrace.

So an extremely strange scene appeared on the imperial throne: Prince Yu with languid spring beauty and silky charming eyes, while the usurped Crown Prince lay on the usurper like a koala, his small fingers clinging lovingly to the usurper’s hand, crystal-clear drool wetting the red clothes on the man’s chest.

Waking the next morning, someone’s chin rested on someone’s chest, the clothes beneath the chin wet in a large patch.

Baozi blinked, his round bright dark eyes slowly meeting the fox eyes with lowered long lashes. Their gazes met, both sparkling for an instant before each looked away.

Yu Zixi’s gaze fell on the hall corner… why did that kid’s expression seem strange?

Baozi’s gaze fell on the dome ceiling… I won’t cry… Mother said not to cry when it’s not time to cry…

That evening, the koala again clung to the great usurping traitor.

The great traitor lay there quite naturally, even reaching out to pull when the koala nearly slid off.

The hall was silent, candles dim. At the hall entrance, the sounds of teeth grinding and gas passing continued. On the throne, the strange pair of kidnapper and hostage sleeping in each other’s arms were deep in peaceful dreams.

In the darkness, a certain koala’s finger hanging over the throne edge suddenly curled.

He tugged at the top hair of Hapi sleeping below the throne.

Hapi immediately trotted to Youtiao’er – this used to be the dinner signal, with Baozi responsible for hair-tugging and Youtiao’er for feeding.

Youtiao’er, curled up dozing, immediately awoke and looked toward the Crown Prince, seeing those small feet curl up their big toe and bend it in a captivating seductive gesture.

Youtiao’er removed his shoes, slowly moved over barefoot, crouched under the imperial throne, and took Baozi’s hand.

Baozi snored with closed eyes, slowly writing in his palm: “Go find my Royal Uncle.”

Youtiao’er wrote: “Then what?”

“The Nine Gates Capital Army and Good Supervising Camp can’t be mobilized without written orders. Now all officials are trapped inside, people outside lack someone in charge and don’t know what to do. We must release my Royal Uncle – he should have a solution.”

Youtiao’er wrote: “Will he agree? Will he believe me?”

Baozi’s hand paused.

Youtiao’er suddenly felt the Crown Prince’s fingers turn ice-cold.

After a long while, those cold small fingers continued writing: “Tell him His Majesty has died. If he doesn’t want His Majesty’s only son to die too, he should come help.”

Youtiao’er blinked and wrote: “Didn’t Prince Yu tell you His Majesty hasn’t died? You’re lying to Prince Zhao?”

That small hand paused again, then wrote: “Yes, lie to him!”

Youtiao’er withdrew his hand, nodded to Baozi. Baozi’s eyes slanted as he looked at the row of high windows open in the rear wall of the great hall.

Those windows were skylights, smaller than ordinary windows. Adults couldn’t crawl through, and they were higher than normal windows, usually opened with long poles.

Having practiced martial arts with Baozi for so long, Youtiao’er had achieved some success. Climbing through windows was no problem.

He went to pull Old Jia Duan. The two crept to the window edge. Old Jia Duan boosted Youtiao’er up, but the boy found he was still some distance from the window.

Youtiao’er clutched his hair, secretly hating that he didn’t know that “Wall-Crawling Gecko Skill” the Crown Prince often mentioned from martial arts novels.

Just as he was anxious, someone came over barefoot and crouching, quick small steps to their side. Without a word, he crouched down, gesturing for Old Jia Duan to climb on his back first.

Light from the window gap illuminated that person’s face – it was Wen Zhengting, newly promoted to be Princess Wenchang’s consort.

Old Jia Duan was delighted, tremblingly climbing onto Wen Zhengting’s back. Suddenly there was a turning sound from the imperial throne. Startled, the old man’s foot slipped and he tumbled down, rolling to the ground while scraping skin off Wen Zhengting’s back.

Both instinctively wanted to hiss in pain but bit their teeth hard seeing each other’s expressions.

Wen Zhengting bit his lips and silently moved forward again. Old Jia Duan held his breath and climbed up with his twisted foot, then Youtiao’er.

The three formed a human tower. Wen Zhengting at the bottom turned purple in the face, one knee on the ground as he slowly straightened his back. Youtiao’er stretched on tiptoe to reach the window frame – this time he made it.

Watching Youtiao’er slowly open the skylight and nimbly slip through that gap, Wen Zhengting and Jia Duan both silently exhaled and collapsed together on the ground.

Baozi, who had been watching their three shadows on the ground, also breathed in relief, raising his eyebrows to glance at Yu Zixi, who had turned to face away from those three men.

Prince Yu, you’re sleeping so soundly…

The smile just rising on his face immediately faded. Baozi suddenly looked up, desperately widening his eyes in the darkness. He stared so hard he nearly cracked his eye sockets.

Yu Zixi suddenly pushed Baozi with closed eyes.

“Hey, need to pee? Go pee down there. If you wet my clothes I’ll kill you.”

Baozi turned his head to look at him, slowly climbed down, slowly walked to the inner hall, but didn’t go to the bronze crane. Instead, he suddenly knelt on the ground and tightly grabbed the heavy curtains hanging in the inner hall.

He gripped so hard, throwing his entire small body onto them, pulling desperately as if his life depended on it.

A faint candlelight shone from the distance, illuminating the small Crown Prince, illuminating that child who for five days had been smiling cheerfully as if nothing mattered, eating when he wanted and sleeping when he wanted, seeming completely carefree.

It showed him with tears streaming down his face, strings of teardrops silently rolling from his eyes, instantly soaking a large patch of his small robe.

He saw it… he saw it… sleeping in his arms for several nights, he’d seen everything clearly. Besides those incomprehensible stories, besides Prince Yu’s inner plans and thoughts, there was that small paper ball with writing on it: Xiao Jue struck by arrow at Yu City… died… died… it’s true… it’s true… Father… died…

Baozi bit his lips and continued fighting desperately with the curtains. He felt he couldn’t cry aloud, but that heartful of pain and sorrow blocked his chest like a boulder, tightly blocking his blood vessels with no way to clear or vent. He could only hang himself on the curtains in the darkness, alone, desperately clawing, pulling, tearing with those silent yet frantic movements, bit by bit pushing away the overwhelming anguish.

“Rip—”

A slight tearing sound. The curtains finally couldn’t bear Baozi’s full body weight, couldn’t bear such silent yet frantic devastation. They crashed down with a rustle. Large swaths of bright yellow curtains bordered with flying golden dragons fell like the collapsing sky over that small body, like smoke and dreams, leisurely enveloping the unresisting, non-blocking, non-dodging Baozi within.

A very long time later.

Moonlight moved across the window.

Illuminating the Great Ceremony Hall’s inner chamber.

On the golden brick floor, bright yellow curtains spread everywhere. In the center of the curtains, a round little ball bulged up.

The moonlight was quiet, shining on the inner hall and that small bundle. It seemed extremely peaceful, yet only by watching carefully for a long time would one notice it seemed to be trembling slightly.

A thousand li away in the Great Ceremony Hall, under moonlight the tiny Crown Prince buried himself in the curtain pile, crying silently.

A thousand li away in Yan City, Qin Chang Ge suddenly turned back on the swift boat as if hearing her beloved son’s suppressed weeping.

This was a river branch connecting to the sea – the river water was actually seawater. The river channel was wide and boundless. Wind swept across the water surface carrying the fishy scent of shells and seaweed from the shore, then evaporating into misty vapor in the distant air, obscuring the half moon.

Under the bright moon, the boat ahead traveled at extreme speed. Halfway across the sea, Bai Yuan actually had hidden boats waiting in the curves to receive them. Qin Chang Ge watched him carry that woman as he abandoned boat for ship, grateful she had also prepared swift boats.

She pursued relentlessly here. Across the water, Bai Yuan stood distantly at the bow, sea wind lifting his clothes, still looking as casually elegant as an immortal.

But somehow, even at this distance, Qin Chang Ge could sense his mood seemed low, hardly better than her own.

She worried about Rong’er – what about him?

At the bow ahead, the Queen was nowhere to be seen. This woman renowned throughout the world yet rarely seen in her true appearance, with such a strange fate that in a short time she’d suddenly transformed from ruler of a nation to drifting at the ends of the earth – what was she doing now? What was she thinking?

Qin Chang Ge stared intently at that tightly closed cabin. Liu Wanlan was probably in there. Bai Yuan hadn’t brought her to the bow beside him, clearly showing her illness was truly severe.

Bai Yuan’s lifelong dream was probably to make her cast aside her country and wholeheartedly love him, to spend carefree days wandering the world with only the two of them.

Now, had this dream been realized? During this time of travel, had she fallen in love with him?

Love was such a simple yet luxurious thing. Some could exchange a lifetime’s hope for a single wooden hairpin, while others might exhaust an entire kingdom and still not earn a beauty’s backward glance.

On the light boat, Qin Chang Ge stood at the bow, suddenly seeing Bai Yuan ahead take something from his waist.

He slowly assembled the object – it was shaped like a crossbow. Then, as if deliberately, he took several black things from his sleeve, placed them in his palm, and shook them at Qin Chang Ge.

At such distance, it was impossible to see clearly what those things were, but Qin Chang Ge could guess they were probably explosive devices or similar weapons.

Estimating the distance between the two boats, Qin Chang Ge frowned. Bai Yuan was forcing her not to get closer, or else he’d serve her explosive projectiles. But if she slowed down and maintained this half-dead distance, once Bai Yuan safely reached shore and disappeared into the crowd, buying another boat to put to sea, it would be even harder for her to catch him.

Phoenix Alliance guards at her side waited for her instructions. Qin Chang Ge answered without hesitation: “Continue!”

The two boats gradually closed distance. When they reached a range where Qin Chang Ge’s strength couldn’t reach Bai Yuan but his could reach her, Bai Yuan at the bow, who had been standing with drawn bow facing Qin Chang Ge, smiled and drew his bow.

“Thwack!”

Qin Chang Ge looked up, quietly watching that black arc shoot toward her boat’s sail.

As the black arc approached, Qin Chang Ge suddenly leaped up, her robes billowing in mid-air, unfurling like white silk. Qin Chang Ge’s posture flowed as she drew a circle in mid-air, catching that terrifically powerful little thing and immediately flinging it away.

“Boom!”

A water wall over a zhang high exploded on the water surface. As the water wall crashed down, many fish floated belly-up, and bright fish blood spread in threads across the water.

But another black light, in the instant before the water wall completely fell, penetrated through it toward Qin Chang Ge, who was in mid-air with nowhere to gain leverage.

Qin Chang Ge performed a mid-air somersault, soaring above sea and sky. Her foot touched the sail and she was already on it. Cold light flashed in her hand as she instantly cut down a section of sail, grasping it like a fan and swinging with great force.

“Boom!” Another explosion. This time the projectile was deflected, blowing up a reef. Flying stone fragments struck the boat hull, shaking the vessel.

Now Qin Chang Ge and Bai Yuan were even closer. Qin Chang Ge could already shoot arrows to the opponent’s bow. Taking a step onto the bow, Qin Chang Ge grabbed crossbow arrows handed by guards, also loaded with explosives, and waved them demonstratively at Bai Yuan.

You have firearms, I have them too. We might as well shoot at each other. I’m not afraid of falling in water to fight, but your Queen can’t handle this cold March water.

Bai Yuan smiled vaguely across the water, making a “go ahead and try” gesture.

Qin Chang Ge chuckled and raised her crossbow level. But Sikong Hen beside her suddenly grabbed her arm, urgently saying: “You can’t!”

Looking sideways at him, Qin Chang Ge said: “Why not? That’s your wife, not mine.”

Sikong Hen was speechless for a moment, then frowned: “You’re really Ruiyi, a founding empress of a generation. How can you have such a personality?”

“Who decreed that empresses must be dignified and noble, must be rigid and proper?” Qin Chang Ge smiled mockingly, then glanced at the light boat ahead. Her gaze suddenly flashed.

Ahead, from behind Bai Yuan, the tightly concealed cabin curtain suddenly revealed a hand.

Or rather, just fingers – slender and delicate, each like jade, with a pigeon-blood ruby on one finger sparkling in the moonlight.

Such a large gemstone wasn’t for ordinary people to wear.

Beside her, Sikong Hen suddenly trembled and said joyfully: “Wanlan!”

Qin Chang Ge glanced at him sideways: “Really? You’re sure?”

“I could never mistake my own wife’s hand!” Sikong Hen replied indignantly.

“What is she saying by extending her hand?” Qin Chang Ge watched that gesture – snow-white fingertips distinct against the deep blue curtain backdrop, fingertips curved up slightly like orchid leaves, lightly tapping three times.

Sikong Hen stared at those fingers as if suddenly choked up. After a long while he said: “…She’s asking me, how are you?”

“How does she recognize you?” Qin Chang Ge turned to look at him. “You’re already disguised.”

Sikong Hen raised his finger. His ring was made of lapis lazuli, rare in its pure color, deep as his eyes like the night sky above this sea wind.

Qin Chang Ge suddenly smiled softly.

“You said she trusts him, even loves him.” Qin Chang Ge smiled gently, deep mockery beneath her smile. “You’re truly confused by being in the situation. The person Liu Wanlan loves is definitely not Bai Yuan.”

“How do you know?” Sikong Hen looked at her. “She trusted Bai Yuan so much…”

“Those are two different things. You don’t understand a woman’s heart.” Qin Chang Ge smiled and whispered in Sikong Hen’s ear: “Hey, I thought of a way to kill Bai Yuan.”

“Mm?”

“Borrow your life for a moment.”

Youtiao’er galloped his horse forward.

This beautiful spring night, the road stretched out peacefully, extending quietly toward the distance. Flowers and trees on both sides were washed clean by moonlight, tender buds on branches gleaming green in the light. The warm wind carried rich fragrance, brushing faces like silk and satin.

But Youtiao’er had no heart to appreciate it.

To ask a youth bearing heavy responsibility, sweating profusely, with feet pierced by sand and stones leaving bloody footprints at every step, to appreciate this moment’s spring night would be like asking him to commit suicide.

His master was still trapped in danger.

After tumbling out of the Great Ceremony Hall, Youtiao’er circled around the main entrance guarded by nine men, found the guards who dared not storm the hall but refused to leave their vigil. The deputy commanders were inside protecting, leaving only captains outside who immediately assigned men to accompany Youtiao’er to find Prince Zhao.

No time to find proper shoes, Youtiao’er went barefoot.

Ahead, the gates of Anping Palace came into view.

Youtiao’er breathed in relief and rushed forward to knock. He made the bronze door rings clang loudly, the sound carrying far in the quiet night.

After a long while, a eunuch came to open the door with dark circles under his eyes, cursing about being woken. Youtiao’er had been flattered in the palace for so long and was full of anxiety – he slapped the eunuch across the face.

“This servant has urgent business. You bastard dare delay!”

While pushing the eunuch aside, he rushed straight inside. Guards hurried to follow. The empty Anping Palace was awakened, servants and eunuchs rushing out in panic. Youtiao’er ran straight to the inner hall, shouting loudly: “Fifth Prince, Prince Zhao!”

“His Highness is ill…” someone answered timidly.

Youtiao’er’s heart jumped. Before he could ask more, the door was suddenly opened.

Xiao Chen stood in the doorway, his long robes unbuttoned at the waist swaying in the wind. His entire person was pale and light, like a cloud that could be blown away by wind at any moment.

His face was pale but his eyes extremely bright. That faint glance made Youtiao’er immediately feel choked inside.

Xiao Chen looked at this strange little eunuch, unease flashing in his eyes: “Coming so late – are you bringing an imperial edict with poisoned wine?”

“Your Highness, Your Highness…” Youtiao’er fell to his knees and crawled forward to embrace Xiao Chen’s legs. “Please save the Crown Prince, save the Crown Prince…”

Xiao Chen raised an eyebrow: “What happened?”

Youtiao’er told him through sobs. Xiao Chen listened quietly, then smiled lightly: “What does it have to do with me?” He turned to enter the room and closed the door.

Youtiao’er panicked, rushing to pound desperately on the door. No matter how he knocked and pleaded, Xiao Chen ignored him. Youtiao’er had no choice but to turn and fiercely wipe his snot, ordering the others: “All leave, all leave. I have confidential matters to report to Prince Zhao.”

Only when no one remained in the courtyard did Youtiao’er press against the door crack and say softly: “Your Highness, this servant dares not disturb you. Let me say one more thing and I’ll leave.”

“You’ve already disturbed me for a long time. You can leave now.” Xiao Chen’s reply from inside had no human warmth or emotion.

Youtiao’er acted as if he hadn’t heard, only saying low: “The Crown Prince asked me to tell you that His Majesty died at Yu City. If you don’t want his only son to die too, please act.”

…

“Creak” – almost instantly, the door opened again. Xiao Chen appeared swaying in the doorway, his face beyond the previous pallor, even showing a slight gray death color. When he spoke, even his voice trembled slightly: “What did you say?”

Youtiao’er looked up at him with streaming tears, kowtowing to the dust: “His Majesty has died…”

Swaying, Xiao Chen gripped the door frame. His head jerked back desperately as he covered his nose with his hand.

Kneeling on the ground, Youtiao’er didn’t see that in that instant, Prince Zhao bled from both nose and mouth, drops flowing onto his hand before being silently wiped away.

In this moment the world spun, in this moment darkness fell. Xiao Chen, who couldn’t see anything clearly, stretched out his thin hand with skin stretched tight, frantically groping on the door frame, smearing bright red streaks on the frame with his bloody hand.

Pale fingers gripped the door edge tightly – without such force, he feared he would immediately collapse and never wake again.

Jue…

…You actually left before me?

You… won’t wait for me?

I knew my time was limited, so I desperately held on, wanting to see you once more after your victorious return…

I truly only wanted to see you once more… that’s all…

Is Heaven’s will truly so stingy that it won’t grant even this meager final wish?

Last year’s hurried meeting at Anping Palace, your departing figure in the darkness – did it truly become my final memory of this lifetime?

Xiao Chen looked up, swallowing the blood flowing backward back into his belly. Each swallow was bitter, fishy and sweet, like swallowing this desolate, sorrowful life.

I lived my whole life close beside you, yet was forever chasing your shadow. To me, you were always the sword light in tower pavilions, frost on plank bridges, snow on the highest plum blossom on the plum tree. I looked up in admiration and longing, then watched them fade from my life thread by thread.

Those thoughts written densely on paper never had a chance to be voiced, finally becoming paper butterflies in braziers during deep night silence, fluttering away.

Like a dance in life destined for no audience, ending amid sparse, echoing applause heard only by oneself in the desolate quiet.

These years… these years… I also tried hard to let you go, to let myself go, tried to find fresh new affections from other paths. Yet somehow, those sinful vines had long since wrapped tightly around me – the more I struggled, the less I could escape.

Yunhua chose those fine men, sending them night after night… They were all good, all lovely, with warmth and fragrance within arm’s reach. But… the one I waited for was always only you, and the one I could never wait for was also only you.

The night Changle Palace burned, watching you walk in so bewildered, there was hidden joy in my heart… Those cold eyes that looked over under maple leaves that year had always been my nightmare. Such a woman was too perceptive – she would see through my thoughts, gradually distance herself from you and me, use the most skillful methods to strip away your trust and love for me, making it impossible for me to sustain even the meager wish to simply accompany and watch over you.

How could I bear it? How could I allow it? She and I were destined not to coexist. I thought of countless ways to kill her.

But I couldn’t… I feared you would grieve.

Yet she didn’t fear your grief… That heartless woman actually used that method to end the last of our brotherly bond, silently striking a blade that completely severed your hope and trust in me.

How I wanted, how I longed to tell her the truth of that day, then watch her be ruthlessly struck down as she had struck me down.

Yet still I could not.

In this life, you are my elder brother, you are my tribulation, you are that bit of flesh connected to my heart – once stripped away, I cannot survive.

And I… am destined to annotate my life with nothing but moon reflected in water, flowers in mirrors.

…

The blood no longer flowed. As for those wounds unseen by others, only I could slowly feel them.

Xiao Chen slowly lowered his head, gazing at Youtiao’er. In just that instant, his complexion had worsened by several degrees.

“Come with me.”

He slowly moved to his desk, took several sheets of jade paper for imperial use, dipped his brush in ink, and slowly began writing edicts.

A bitter smile crossed his lips… Back then, copying those endless books for you, I accidentally learned your handwriting. Even you yourself couldn’t tell the difference. I never used this skill in all these years, yet never thought… after you departed… I would write in your hand one final time.

Is this Heaven’s will, destined to let me commemorate you one last time in this way? Very well…

Several edicts lay side by side. Xiao Chen gently withdrew from his bosom the slightly warm white jade seal – an exquisite chi-dragon personal seal engraved with “Master of Brocade Hall.”

This was Xiao Jue’s courtesy name, taken from “Brocade Hall,” the courtyard where he had lived in Prince Huainan’s mansion. Xiao Jue was someone who didn’t care about such trivial matters – this courtesy name had been chosen for him.

Privately, it was only to commemorate the sword light that had once danced and fallen across Brocade Hall.

He had personally carved this seal for Xiao Jue, and Xiao Jue had used it when issuing proclamations. When Xiao Jue came to see him last time, he had asked for it back, and surprisingly Xiao Jue had returned it.

Xiao Chen smiled bitterly… Brother, did you care for me too much, or care for me too little?

Heaven’s will… still Heaven’s will. Heaven wills that I do this for you – no one else can do it. Heaven wills that I follow you in death, not delaying even a moment longer.

Smiling, Xiao Chen handed the perfectly forged edicts to Youtiao’er, saying gently: “Go.”

Youtiao’er stared at the edicts in amazement. He recognized His Majesty’s handwriting – he hadn’t expected the Prince’s calligraphy to be identical to His Majesty’s. With these, mobilizing the Good Supervising Camp and Capital Army would be absolutely no problem.

He kowtowed happily, shouting: “This servant thanks the Prince on behalf of the Crown Prince for your generous assistance!”

Xiao Chen waved his hand, remembering that day at Anping Palace when she had held by the hand that child who bowed lightly to him. A trace of wan smile appeared on his face.

“I’m not doing this for him…”

But Youtiao’er had already impatiently clutched the edicts and hurried away, his departure stirring a breeze that slammed the door shut with a bang.

Xiao Chen didn’t even turn his head, only hazily, slowly tidying the paper and brushes on his desk.

Looking down, “drip” – a drop of fresh blood fell onto the paper.

Xiao Chen stared at that spot of blood in fascination, then suddenly took up his brush. Using that bit of bright red, he painted with side strokes against the grain for old trunks, heavy ink center strokes for branches. A snow-ground hardy plum gradually took shape.

“Drip! Drip!” The blood fell faster and more, spattering across the paper. Xiao Chen smiled slightly, using the blood to dot full branches of red plums – strong branches, flowers filling every branch, just like that old plum tree in Fourth Young Master’s courtyard at Prince Huainan’s mansion. The young Xiao Jue often practiced sword beneath it, while the child Xiao Chen often hid at building corners to steal glances.

That tree swaying with plum blossoms and sword light…

Where did it finally fall upon whose shoulders?