Ji Heng departed on his own, leaving Yin Zhan standing alone in place. The habitually hearty smile on his face had completely vanished, replaced only by gloom.

He could hear the layers of murderous intent in Ji Heng’s words, carrying an eager joy. He suddenly felt somewhat anxious, anxious that there wasn’t enough time. He abruptly turned around and left with quick steps.

Ji Heng entered the palace, passing through the long corridors and walking past the great halls. Eunuch Su led him into the Emperor’s imperial study and withdrew outside the door.

Ji Heng walked in. The young Emperor sat at the desk, which was covered with thick stacks of memorials.

“Your Majesty,” he got straight to the point, “the time has come.”

Emperor Hongxiao lifted his head from the memorials and looked toward Ji Heng.

Others initially believed that Ji Heng’s allegiance to Emperor Hongxiao was not an excellent choice. When Prince Cheng was still around, Emperor Hongxiao’s power was declining, and he could be replaced by Prince Cheng at any moment. After Prince Cheng’s affair, everyone discovered that this emperor whom they had never favored was actually a truly sleeping lion. From the very beginning, Ji Heng had keenly chosen the most powerful person.

But this kind of ruler-subject relationship was ultimately unstable, seemingly harboring some mutual exploitation. Moreover, if Emperor Hongxiao could once suspect the Right Minister, how could he not be wary of Ji Heng?

But Emperor Hongxiao himself knew this wasn’t so. Between him and Ji Heng existed a wondrous relationship, perhaps it was kindred spirits in misfortune, or perhaps shared enmity against a common enemy. For Emperor Hongxiao, Ji Heng was not merely a bargaining chip, a reliable subject—in certain respects, Ji Heng could even be considered a trustworthy friend in his lonely imperial career.

Perhaps this was because Ji Heng had told him his plans from the very beginning, or perhaps because Ji Heng had always observed the proper boundaries of a subject. He appeared to act without restraint, yet actually grasped the distance precisely, to the extent that Emperor Hongxiao had no reason whatsoever to suspect him.

“Have you truly decided?” Emperor Hongxiao asked. “I am unwilling for you to take risks.”

“Your Majesty, this matter—I have been planning it for many years. If it is not done by me, others may be unable to succeed. At that time, all efforts would inevitably fall short. I have made up my mind. I ask Your Majesty to grant this favor.”

Emperor Hongxiao let out a long sigh.

Yes, he had known this day would come long ago. Reaching this step had not been easy—Prince Cheng’s complete defeat, Yin Zhan’s return, everything was within their control. They had planned carefully and meticulously, only to discover when it finally came to this that so many years had already passed—time flies like an arrow.

“Ji Heng, you must return safely,” Emperor Hongxiao said.

“I will,” Ji Heng smiled slightly. “Whether for Your Majesty’s sake or for the Ji family’s sake, I will… personally kill him.”

Eunuch Su stood at the door, seeming as if he heard nothing, his expression unchanged, yet in his heart he sighed. They say those who enjoy glory before others must suffer behind the scenes. Others only saw His Majesty’s and the Duke’s current success, but who knew how difficult these years had been for them?

They simply didn’t speak of it.

…

Yin Zhan returned to the Yin residence.

When he returned from the palace it was still early, but everyone in the manor thought he wasn’t home, because as soon as he returned he shut himself in the study. It wasn’t until nightfall when Yin Zhan emerged from the study that the servants were startled. Yin Zhiqing said, “Father, so you were home. I thought you had gone out.”

Yin Zhiqing had also grown thinner these days because of Ji Heng and Jiang Li’s betrothal. However, she was naturally passionate and forthright, and was already making an effort to move past it—at least she wasn’t completely immersed in pain.

Yin Zhan glanced at her. Yin Zhiqing was startled by his gaze. Yin Zhan’s eyes were exceptionally cold, as if looking at a stranger. Although Yin Zhiqing knew that Yin Zhan had always doted on her elder brother most, he had never looked at her with such eyes. She couldn’t help but take a step back.

At that moment, Yin Zhili walked over from the other direction and happened to see them. He said, “Father, Zhiqing.”

“Elder brother,” Yin Zhiqing said, somewhat frightened, hiding behind Yin Zhili. Yin Zhili looked at Yin Zhan strangely. Although Yin Zhan was usually strict with Yin Zhili, most of the time he was still smiling cheerfully. Today however, there wasn’t a trace of smile on his face—he could almost be called frightening. Yin Zhili was also stunned, and heard Yin Zhiqing whisper behind him, “What did you do wrong to make Father angry?”

Yin Zhili was utterly confused—he hadn’t done anything. At this time, Yin Zhan said to Yin Zhili, “Zhili, come with me.”

Yin Zhili had no choice but to follow.

Yin Zhan brought Yin Zhili into his own courtyard and walked into the study. He even drove all the servants at the study door to the courtyard gate, making them guard there. In the entire vast courtyard, there were only Yin Zhili and Yin Zhan.

The servants were accustomed to Yin Zhan’s decisive nature and didn’t even feel curious, obediently going to guard the courtyard gate. However, Yin Zhili was puzzled in his heart, not knowing how important the words Yin Zhan was about to say to him were that he would make such thorough arrangements.

As soon as they entered, Yin Zhili asked, “Father, what happened?”

Yin Zhan only looked at him, saying nothing. Yin Zhili had never seen such complex emotions in Yin Zhan’s eyes. He usually said what he wanted to say directly, and what he didn’t want to say he simply didn’t say—clean and decisive, never dragging things out. Today, the way he looked at Yin Zhili was like a drowning person desperately struggling, frightening to witness.

Yin Zhili inexplicably felt uneasy. He asked again, “Father?”

After a very long time, Yin Zhan finally said, “Zhili, there is something I must tell you. Your birth mother is still alive in this world.”

Yin Zhili’s eyes widened in astonishment. For a moment his words became stammered. He said, “How… how could that be? Didn’t Mother die when…” when giving birth to him—this was the fact that everyone had told him.

“She is not your birth mother,” Yin Zhan said in a deep voice. “Your birth mother is the current Empress Dowager.”

Yin Zhili took a step back, his face instantly turning pale. He said, “Father… you…”

“You are my and the Empress Dowager’s son, Zhili,” Yin Zhan said.

With just one sentence, all cause and effect became instantly clear. There was no need to ask more, no need to doubt anything—Yin Zhan’s expression explained everything. Having spent so many years with Yin Zhan, Yin Zhili already knew what expression he wore when speaking the truth.

It was exactly this expression now.

“No… it’s impossible…” Reason knew it was true, yet emotionally, Yin Zhili simply couldn’t accept it. He had only one thought in his mind—he was a child of illicit relations! This disgusting accusation would follow him for life!

But Yin Zhan only looked at him, just as he had countless times in the past when instructing him. He said, “You know I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Yin Zhili suddenly had an epiphany.

Things he had never understood before suddenly all became clear. For instance, why almost no one in the manor mentioned his birth mother, and when he asked Yin Zhan, Yin Zhan didn’t seem to care either. He never voluntarily spoke of Yin Zhili’s birth mother, yet couldn’t be said to particularly like the current Madam Yin either. Sometimes he would think that perhaps Father had a cherished person in his heart, but that person had never shown any trace. Now he understood—that person was the current Empress Dowager.

From Yun Province to Yanjing, from Prince Cheng to the Jiang family—he didn’t understand why Yin Zhan did this or did that. Yin Zhan never gave him reasons either. Now this reason had appeared, so justified and confident, yet Yin Zhili couldn’t accept it.

“What do you want me to do?” Yin Zhili laughed coldly. “The marriage alliance with the Jiang family—it’s because you have wild ambitions, isn’t it! I am the Empress Dowager’s son, so what? Because the current Emperor is not the Empress Dowager’s biological son, the Empress Dowager still hopes for me to inherit the throne—you want to plot rebellion and usurp the throne! How dare you do such a thing! I don’t have such a mother!”

With a sharp “crack,” Yin Zhan’s slap landed viciously on Yin Zhili’s face.

He said in a deep voice, “I will not allow you to insult her!”

Yin Zhili retorted with reddened eyes, “If you’ve done it, don’t be afraid of people speaking of it!”

“When I met her, she was still Miss Lin. We were in love, and I was preparing to propose marriage! The Lin family coveted glory and wealth—they received an imperial marriage decree, and she married the Emperor. The Emperor obtained her but didn’t cherish her. Her life in the palace was worse than death. If I hadn’t appeared later, she would probably have died in the palace. Yin Zhili,” he called Yin Zhili’s full name, as if extremely angry, “it was I who forced her. Your mother is innocent! She could have chosen not to give birth to you—at least that way she wouldn’t have had a weakness or be in danger. But she still gave birth to you because she couldn’t bear to part with you! You can hate me, but you cannot hate your mother. She has done nothing to wrong you! Do you understand?”

Yin Zhili’s tears suddenly couldn’t be held back and flowed down. Men don’t shed tears lightly, but at this moment, he truly didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t blame the Empress Dowager, because she had risked her life to give birth to him. He also couldn’t blame Yin Zhan, because Yin Zhan had raised him for so many years, teaching him with devoted care. Then who could he blame? Damn it, who could he blame?

From his throat escaped a miserable wail.

Yin Zhan looked at him with reluctance. He knew this was tantamount to torment for Yin Zhili. But he knew his son’s temperament—his heart was too soft. To put it nicely, he was kind; to put it harshly, he was indecisive. Yin Zhili responded to gentleness but not harshness. Speaking this way would prevent him from hardening his heart against the Empress Dowager.

Yin Zhan didn’t care whether Yin Zhili hated him or not. He only worried that Yin Zhili would refuse to acknowledge Lin Roujia.

“The blood of the imperial family flows in your veins,” Yin Zhan said to him curtly and decisively. “Listen. Next, I’m going to do something. This thing is very dangerous, and perhaps I won’t return. If I don’t return, everything in the Yin family will be entrusted to you, and the Empress Dowager will also be implicated. Promise me—protect your mother.”

Yin Zhili’s wailing stopped abruptly. He looked at Yin Zhan and realized something. He said, “What do you intend to do?”

“Old grudges from years past—it’s time to settle them,” Yin Zhan said. “I don’t fear accepting the consequences. I only can’t let go of you two, mother and son.”

Yin Zhili shook his head. “No, you mustn’t do it.”

“There’s no turning back,” Yin Zhan suddenly smiled. His smile was as hearty as ever, only in his gaze was a strain of obsessive madness. He said, “From the year I met your mother, my fate was determined. This life, I live for no one but her. Zhili, you’re the same. This is your destiny. I will clear the obstacles before you, but the remaining matters you must do yourself. You absolutely cannot let everything fall short. All the people of the Yin family, and my troops—I’m entrusting them all to you from now on.”

He spoke so solemnly, as if knowing that once he departed he would certainly never return. In Yin Zhili’s heart, deep sorrow suddenly welled up. Yet he still shook his head, saying, “Don’t. You can’t.” He didn’t know if he was resisting this destiny forced upon him, or refusing this unknowable future that he didn’t want.

But at the same time he also understood that long ago, many years before, Yin Zhan had begun making preparations. He taught him military strategy and taught him the art of governing people. Looking at it now, this was probably a plan that had been in motion since long ago. Perhaps from the moment of his birth, or even when he was still in the Empress Dowager’s belly, Yin Zhan and the Empress Dowager had already planned a path for him—a future that in their eyes was incomparably brilliant and glorious: to possess all under Heaven.

“You’re deceiving me, aren’t you? Father,” Yin Zhili looked at Yin Zhan in confusion and pleading, “I’m not the Empress Dowager’s son. You’re only deceiving me like this because you hope I’ll do as you say, isn’t that right?”

This refined and handsome young noble, the outstanding one in everyone’s eyes—when had he ever been so humble? Yet Yin Zhan only hardened his heart and said, “I’m not deceiving you. The year Roujia gave birth to you, Consort Liu Shu framed her. To prove her innocence, she went to Hongshan Temple to contemplate before Buddha, and it was there she gave birth to you…”

Speaking of the past, scenes from former days seemed to float before Yin Zhan’s eyes again. Those truly were days of walking on thin ice—having to prevent everyone at Hongshan Temple from leaking the secret. Those trembling, fearful days had all passed now. Yet the future seemed to be approaching a dead end.

This was perhaps his fate, from which he had no choice.

Yin Zhili couldn’t help trembling again. He had never been so helpless. Yin Zhan said, “Zhili, I don’t care what you think right now, but there’s no more time. I must tell you what comes next. You must listen…”

From Yin Zhan’s courtyard, not the slightest sound could be heard. Outside in the rooms, Yin Zhiqing sat beside Madam Yin, asking worriedly, “Did Yin Zhili commit some terrible offense? I saw Father’s expression just now—it was truly frightening.”

“He didn’t,” Madam Yin consoled her gently. “Your father has always doted on Zhili. Even if Zhili truly made a mistake, he wouldn’t blame him excessively.”

Thinking it over, Yin Zhiqing felt Madam Yin’s words made sense, and only then did she feel relieved. This was indeed true. Yin Zhan’s affection for Yin Zhili was evident to all. They say fathers favor daughters, especially since Yin Zhiqing was the youngest daughter, but everyone could see the difference in how Yin Zhan treated Yin Zhiqing and Yin Zhili.

Fortunately, Yin Zhiqing had grown accustomed to it since childhood, and besides, Yin Zhili was also very good to her.

“But they’ve been in there talking for so long and haven’t come out yet. It’s truly worrying,” Yin Zhiqing said. “In recent days, Yin Zhili was already upset for a while because of Second Miss Jiang’s matter. If he gets scolded by Father on top of that, he’ll surely feel even worse.”

Madam Yin looked at Yin Zhiqing and sighed in her heart. They say Yin Zhili was heartbroken over Jiang Li’s matter, but wasn’t Yin Zhiqing the same? This fool—she herself had grown thin and haggard, yet still thought of others. She was truly just like herself, having grown a beautiful and shrewd-looking face in vain, but actually more disadvantaged than anyone. She couldn’t help feeling sad.

After a very long time, Yin Zhan emerged from the courtyard. When he came out, his gaze was cold and his expression gloomy. None of the servants dared approach. Yin Zhiqing and Madam Yin also didn’t dare say anything. He walked out of the courtyard and directly left through the Yin manor’s main gate. So late at night, who knew what he was going to do.

Yin Zhiqing said to Madam Yin, “Mother, I’ll go check on Yin Zhili.”

Madam Yin nodded. Yin Zhiqing quickly ran to Yin Zhan’s courtyard. There wasn’t a single person in the courtyard. When Yin Zhiqing pushed open the study door, she didn’t see Yin Zhili’s figure at first. She was still puzzled in her heart—how could Yin Zhili have disappeared in the blink of an eye? She was just about to go out to the courtyard to look when she turned her head, but her footsteps suddenly stopped.

Yin Zhili was hiding behind the door.

He was truly “hiding” behind the door, as if having received a tremendous shock. His whole body was curled into a ball, hugging his head. Yin Zhiqing was startled and quickly ran over, saying, “Yin Zhili?”

Yin Zhili lifted his head. The words Yin Zhiqing was about to say suddenly couldn’t be spoken.

She remembered she had never seen Yin Zhili cry. Since childhood, Yin Zhili had always maintained a calm and composed appearance, his face constantly wearing a gentle and warm smile. Even when competing in martial arts and being thrown from a horse, he would smile while comforting his family. Although Yin Zhiqing felt Yin Zhili was sometimes too easily bullied and too softhearted, in her bones she was still proud of Yin Zhili. Now this fragile Yin Zhili appeared before her, and for a moment Yin Zhiqing couldn’t believe it.

She wanted to touch him, but for a moment didn’t know how to do so. She could only soften her voice and ask, “What’s wrong with you? What did Father say to you?”

The numbness in Yin Zhili’s eyes alarmed her.

“Hey, Yin Zhili!” Yin Zhiqing pushed him forcefully. “Don’t scare me!”

Only then did Yin Zhili slowly turn his gaze toward Yin Zhiqing. At this moment, he also suddenly understood some things. No wonder after Yin Zhan married his second wife, they were loving at first, but after Yin Zhiqing was born, he began to neglect Madam Yin, becoming as distant as a different person. Before, Yin Zhili thought it was because Yin Zhan feared he would be sensitive, thinking that the stepmother and stepsister would steal Yin Zhan’s affection, so he deliberately acted this way. Yin Zhili had even felt apologetic toward Madam Yin and her daughter, while naively believing this was because Father loved him enough and put him first in everything.

Now thinking about it, all of that had become a ridiculous delusion. The reason Yin Zhan did this was nothing more than to avoid suspicion. Marrying a second wife and having a child was probably to put the Emperor at ease and prevent people from connecting him with Lin Roujia. The Yin family mother and daughter were nothing but a pair of sacrificial victims. Yin Zhili didn’t know whether he should feel sorrow for the Yin family mother and daughter, or feel disgusted by Yin Zhan and Lin Roujia’s selfish love.

Yin Zhiqing furrowed her brow. She really disliked the way Yin Zhili looked at her, as if pitying something. She asked, “What exactly is wrong with you? What terrible thing did you do that Father scolded you into this state?”

She was also very puzzled. Even if Yin Zhan disciplined Yin Zhili harshly, Yin Zhili shouldn’t be in this condition. Yin Zhili withdrew his gaze and stood up. He didn’t know if it was because he had been curled up for too long or for some other reason, but his whole body seemed unable to muster any strength, and he nearly fell. Fortunately, Yin Zhiqing supported him.

After he steadied himself, he slowly turned his head, looked at Yin Zhiqing, and said, “Zhiqing, you and Mother should return to Yun Province.”

“What?” Yin Zhiqing was stunned, staring at him incredulously and asking, “Why? What about you and Father? Are you returning to Yun Province together?”

“We may not be able to return,” Yin Zhili smiled at her, only Yin Zhiqing felt his smile looked even worse than crying.

“You and Mother should return to Yun Province, the sooner the better. I’ll arrange the other matters.” Having said this, he stumbled out, ignoring Yin Zhiqing’s questioning behind him.

…

The Duke’s manor at night, even in winter, was still covered with blooming flowers and vibrant brocade. But despite the profusion of blossoms, there was no additional warmth. Instead, there was a kind of eerie bleakness.

By the flower garden, someone stood with hands clasped behind his back. He stood beside a tree. This tree was still just a small tree, not yet grown, welcoming its winter. It stood there with its back held perfectly straight, quite stubbornly, making an image of another person float into Ji Heng’s mind.

The corners of his mouth curved up—he smiled.

“These flowers have bloomed again,” Situ Jiuyue said beside him.

Situ Jiuyue wore all black, with bells adorning her body, hair, and wrists. She had always been cold and icy, but tonight she seemed somewhat strange.

“During the days I’m away, I’ll entrust their care to you,” Ji Heng said.

“Of course,” Situ Jiuyue answered. “I’ll take good care of them. If you don’t come back, all these flowers will be mine.”

“Situ, those words of yours sound terrible,” Wenren Yao said dissatisfied from the side. “Very inauspicious! Ptooey ptooey ptooey, may nothing be taboo.”

Tonight’s Duke’s manor seemed livelier than usual. Lu Ji and Kong Liu also stood to the side, only not as leisurely as usual. Each wore a grave expression, as if some great event were about to occur.

Little Red also seemed to sense something wrong with the atmosphere. Standing on a tree branch, it tilted its head to look at these people. Usually it was quite noisy, but today it didn’t say a word, quiet to the extreme.

Lu Ji said, “When does Your Grace plan to depart?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Before leaving, won’t you inform Miss Jiang?” Kong Liu asked hesitantly. “After all, you’ve already become betrothed. She is your fiancée. For this kind of matter, it’s better to let her know.”

“No need,” Ji Heng said. “She’ll worry if she knows.”

Everyone fell silent. How perilous this journey was, everyone knew. Between Ji Heng and Yin Zhan, there was destined to be a life-and-death struggle. They were each other’s bait, executing dangerous moves. Each concealed backup plans, each wanting to be the mantis that catches the cicada at the very end. Neither would give up easily, but who would be the final victor in this battle was uncertain. Ji Heng had been planning for decades—hadn’t Yin Zhan been doing the same?

Perhaps even the difference between them lay only in the smallest margin, entirely depending on whether Heaven played favorites and bestowed a bit more luck on one or the other.

“I’ve already prepared,” Kong Liu said. “Everything here in Yanjing has been arranged properly.”

“Good,” Ji Heng said. “Lu Ji, you also stay in Yanjing.”

“Your Grace,” Lu Ji furrowed his brow, “going alone this time will be extremely dangerous. This is a critical moment—we absolutely cannot have any mishaps. Risking yourself is not the best strategy.”

“Yin Zhan’s troops remain throughout the North Yan regions, with Yanjing as the priority. He’s leaving as bait and won’t bring many people with him. To lure him out, naturally I cannot be surrounded by troops. But that doesn’t mean I have no methods.” Ji Heng smiled faintly. “This time, I must put him to death without fail.”

As he spoke, he slowly caressed the branch of the small tree before him, then smiled. “He feels the same way.”

The matters in the Duke’s manor’s flower garden seemed unknown to anyone. In Old General Ji’s study, however, the lamps were lit.

Although he was strong and vigorous despite his age with abundant energy, he usually retired early, saying that early to bed and early to rise helped prolong life. All these years, he indeed appeared stronger and younger than his peers. But an old general couldn’t compare with a young general. For instance, all the weapons and armor in this room had rusted and were covered in dust. Even though he often wiped them, they still resembled heroes in their twilight, evoking pity.

He slowly walked past these weapons. He reached out to touch the golden armor, the sturdy helmet, the mighty spear, the fierce broadsword… Each time he passed before a weapon, he would pause and stop, standing quietly for a while, seeming to reminisce about the glorious years of the past. His face showed a reminiscent expression. Finally, he walked before a precious sword.

On the sword’s scabbard were embedded sparkling rubies, engraved with intricate patterns. The blade itself was entirely snow-bright, light and thin. When drawn from its scabbard, it was so dazzling one couldn’t look directly at it, and a fierce killing aura rushed forth.

This was a sword that had been to the battlefield, named “Qingming.” It had started with him, ended with Ji Minghan, but Ji Heng refused to use swords. He usually only used a fan. Old General Ji had told him many times not to use such frivolous things, but Ji Heng simply didn’t listen, doing as he pleased.

He liked things that could take lives in an instant while still maintaining an elegant and attractive posture.

Old General Ji took “Qingming” down from the wall. He walked to the desk, found a cloth, and slowly began wiping it.

As the cloth wiped, the sword became increasingly bright. Held in hand, there seemed to be an illusion that the sword was humming, making clear ringing sounds.

“Old friend,” Old General Ji cherished it as he wiped, holding it in his hand as if facing a friend he hadn’t seen in many years, or a brother he had once gone to battle with, “I’ve grown old, but you’re still so fierce.”

The sword gripped in the old general’s hand—one could vaguely see the scenes of years past: the young general wielding the precious sword, galloping across battlefields, his fearless and heroic bearing. Then time hastily shattered everything. The world had changed, though the objects remained the same, the people were gone. The sword was still this sword, but the person was no longer that person.

He held the sword in a daze, sitting dejectedly for quite a while. If others saw him, they would surely be astonished that this usually cheerful and happy old man could have such a sorrowful moment.

He finished wiping the sword and placed it back in its scabbard, setting it on the desk. The lamplight burned quietly, illuminating the old general’s eyes and the tears within them.

“Minghan,” he murmured, “twenty-some years have passed. We father and son should meet again.”