At that moment, Wen Yu had just finished hearing her subordinates report on the situation of Jiang Yu going to count the grain. A maid came to her ear to say that Zhaobai had returned.

Wen Yu dismissed the ministers. Shortly after, Zhaobai entered, but without saying a word, she lowered her head and knelt at the bottom of the stairs.

Wen Yu smoothed her soft gauze wide sleeves with one hand while holding a vermillion brush in the other, reviewing those memorials that must pass through her hands. Seeing this, she raised her eyes to look at Zhaobai: “Didn’t bring him back?”

Her voice was calm and peaceful, as if she had already anticipated such a result. She lowered her lashes and continued writing on the memorial, saying: “Stand up.”

However, Zhaobai didn’t rise. She knelt perfectly straight, that lowered head never lifting.

Wen Yu sensed something amiss. Even if Zhaobai hadn’t been able to bring back Xiao Li, she shouldn’t feel guilty to this extent. She frowned, and when she raised her eyes again with doubt to look at Zhaobai, she heard the other party say hoarsely: “General Xiao… has perished.”

Wen Yu held the brush in a daze for quite a while, as if she hadn’t heard clearly the meaning in Zhaobai’s words, and asked: “What?”

Zhaobai said with difficulty: “General Xiao has perished.”

With a muffled “thud,” Wen Yu knocked over the inkstone beside her. The vermillion ink instantly stained that stack of memorials and most of her wide sleeves red.

In that instant, her mind reeled with dizziness. She hurriedly supported herself on the desk to stand steady.

Seeing Wen Yu lose her composure like this, Zhaobai quickly tried to step forward to support her: “Princess…”

Wen Yu supported herself on the corner of the desk with one hand and raised the other to stop Zhaobai from coming forward. The bright sunlight shone on her through the half-open window, yet her complexion was excessively pale, like a snowman exposed under the sun. Those eyes looking at Zhaobai—whether because the grief was too great such that she no longer knew how to show emotion, or because of something else—one couldn’t discern sorrow for the moment. Only when she spoke did her voice betray its hoarseness: “What happened?”

Zhaobai knelt on the ground, her hands hanging at her sides clenched tightly into fists. She began recounting everything that had happened that day with some difficulty.

“…This servant later returned to where Dai Yan had shot arrows at General Xiao and found several other poisoned arrows he had shot.” After speaking, she removed an object from her side and presented it to Wen Yu.

Wrapped in that cloth bundle were precisely those poisoned arrows she had retrieved.

That day, after Dai Yan hit Xiao Li with one arrow, taking advantage of the Jinzhou soldiers’ pursuit and Zhaobai’s order for them to act separately, he had disposed of the remaining poisoned arrows on his person. But constrained by the pursuing troops, he hadn’t had time to destroy those poisoned arrows he had previously shot at Xiao Li. The Jinzhou soldiers were eager to pursue them for merit and hadn’t cleaned up the battlefield.

Wen Yu stared blankly at the arrows in Zhaobai’s palm, gazing for quite a while before picking them up. Her hands were covered with the vermillion ink from knocking over the inkstone earlier. At this moment, gripping tightly that cloth bundle wrapped around the poisoned arrows, it was as if her hands were stained with fresh blood.

She struggled to suppress her trembling breathing and asked with closed eyes: “Where is his body?”

Zhaobai shook her head and said with shame: “This servant led people to search downstream along the river for several days but never found General Xiao’s body. Only at the river mouth, on a piece of waterlogged wood, did I retrieve half a torn piece of fabric from General Xiao’s clothing.”

“Then continue searching. I want to see him alive, or see his corpse if dead.”

These words falling on Zhaobai’s ears were hoarse yet resounding.

Zhaobai knew that Wen Yu was unwilling to accept this outcome. She said with some reluctance: “This servant left personnel there to continue searching for General Xiao’s body, but General Xiao that day… had already been struck by knockout drugs and poisoned arrows. I’m afraid there’s no possibility of survival…”

As she spoke, she raised her head, only to meet Wen Yu’s gaze that was red enough to pierce the heart yet sharp as cold lightning. Those eyes revealed even more decisiveness and firmness than usual: “Even if only withered bones remain, bring them back to me.”

All of Zhaobai’s words of comfort choked in her throat. She bowed her head toward Wen Yu: “This servant receives your command.”

After Zhaobai withdrew, the door to the study also closed in response.

Wen Yu stood supporting herself on the desk against the backlight, her shoulders and back taut like a bow about to break its string. The hand supporting the desk had already broken its nails from excessive force, the seeping blood color mixing with the vermillion ink, dyeing into an equally glaring red.

Water fell onto the unfinished official documents, spreading into patches of wetness. In the room gradually darkening as the sun slanted, an extremely hoarse voice rang out: “I’m sorry…”

—

The shadow cast by the roof ridge had already crossed half the courtyard. Li Yao was personally turning and arranging the books laid out to dry in the courtyard while leaning on his cane. The attendant beside him wanted to help but was stopped by his shout: “This old man will do it himself. These books are quite old, and they got rain on them a couple days ago. They can’t withstand your clumsy handling…”

The attendant could only give up and instead stood beside him helping to hold the books Li Yao had organized.

Another attendant hurried in from outside the courtyard: “My Lord, the Princess has come and is currently in the front hall, saying she wants to see you.”

Hearing this, Li Yao seemed to have anticipated it long ago and wasn’t surprised. He bent down with difficulty to pick up another dried book, carefully separating the pages stuck together. Due to his advanced age, he needed to squint to see the characters on the book clearly. After smoothing all the water-damaged stuck pages and gently stroking the already damaged cover, he saw the title and froze for a moment before saying with ambiguous meaning: “It’s a book about Wu Zixu…”

The attendant only felt that Li Yao suddenly became strange but didn’t dare ask more questions.

Li Yao handed that book to the attendant, telling him to put all these books back in his study, while he himself went to the front hall leaning on his staff.

Outside the front hall’s main door, a person knelt bound, his back covered with whip marks—it was precisely Dai Yan.

Li Yao acted as if he hadn’t seen this person, his expression unchanged as he stepped through the door. He bowed to the woman standing with her back turned inside: “This old minister has seen the Princess.”

Wen Yu didn’t turn around. The embroidered hem of her robe trailed behind her like a banner in the wind, or like a raised sail. Her voice was hoarse: “Sir should know why I’ve come today.”

Li Yao said peacefully: “If the Princess wishes to punish this old minister, this old minister willingly accepts it.”

Wen Yu suddenly raised her eyes. As she turned around, her gaze like cold lightning stabbed straight at Li Yao, demanding: “Why?”

What she asked was clearly about Li Yao ordering people to kill Xiao Li.

Li Yao uttered two words: “Eliminating threats to the sovereign.”

Fury instantly surfaced in Wen Yu’s reddened eyes as she shouted: “I told Sir that Xiao Li is not a traitor! His entire family are my benefactors! Sir used the people and the great cause to pressure me. I already ordered Zhaobai to go bring back Xiao Li to investigate right and wrong. Why did Sir still strike such a lethal blow? Does Sir insist on making me become someone ungrateful, inhumane, and untrustworthy?”

Facing Wen Yu’s anger, Li Yao only looked at her quietly with his aged, graying pupils: “Princess, your protection of this person has long been unjust.”

These words clearly had implications.

Li Yao shifted his gaze and continued: “If he had been willing to return to Pingzhou with the Princess’s people, my people wouldn’t have acted.”

Wen Yu was almost driven to laugh in anger. She indeed pulled the corner of her mouth into a smile, only that smile was full of mockery and self-derision: “Is this how Sir views Yu?”

“May I ask Sir, in the rewards and punishments Yu gave Xiao Li, which one could be called favoritism, and which one was unjust?” Her gaze was like a sharp blade, cold and keen: “How he climbed up step by step through military merit—all the generals of Pingzhou witnessed it. If he commits an offense, when I question him, it will only be more severe than with other generals.”

“If Sir believes Yu is protecting him because Yu denied that Xiao Li is a spy, then it is Yu who should be disappointed in Sir. When executing Yan Que initially, Yu only acted after the evidence was conclusive. Now the evidence pointing to Xiao Li being a spy is still insufficient. Yu also told Sir that this could very well be Pei Song’s trap. Before proving right from wrong, Sir struck a lethal blow. If it’s later confirmed to be a wrongful killing, how should Yu conduct herself?”

Li Yao gripped the head of his cane forcefully with both hands overlapped, saying coldly and harshly: “Since ancient times, those who accomplish great things don’t fuss over minor details. As long as it doesn’t hinder the Princess’s great cause, even if it’s a wrongful killing, this old minister accepts it. When the truth comes to light someday, this old minister is willing to take his own life in atonement.”

The anger in Wen Yu’s eyes had almost solidified: “If this is Pei Song’s treacherous scheme, this time he says Xiao Li is a spy—next time will he say Lord Chen, Lord He, General Fan are spies? Will Sir also eliminate them one by one?”

Li Yao’s expression changed slightly, but he didn’t speak.

Wen Yu continued questioning: “Sir once assisted Emperor Mingcheng and should know that the root of Great Liang’s national calamity was planted when Emperor Mingcheng in his later years became muddled and indiscriminately killed loyal ministers and generals. When Father Emperor was selected as heir apparent, he was already working to overturn the cases of several ministers who died unjustly. Yu has read those case files—officials whose families had been upright for generations were wrongfully killed and branded with the stigma of corruption and bribery. Confiscating their property and exiling them wasn’t enough—they also had to be recorded in the historical records for posterity to revile. Yu dares ask Sir: in such a dynasty, who else would dare to be loyal?”

“What Father and Brother wished for all their lives was to eliminate the many chronic illnesses of the Great Liang dynasty. This is also Yu’s heart’s desire. Now the enemy has not been eliminated, the great cause has not been revived—yet Sir wants Yu to emulate Emperor Mingcheng’s nation-destroying actions from back then?”

Li Yao met Wen Yu’s gaze, but for the first time felt that he suddenly didn’t dare look directly at the young woman before him.

—She was no longer his student, or even no longer just that Great Liang princess on whom he placed great hopes.

That’s right. He had stubbornly believed that her insistence on protecting Xiao Li, repeatedly citing insufficient evidence, was just an excuse. Only now did he realize that she truly deeply detested Emperor Mingcheng’s wrongful killing of loyal subjects back then and was doing everything possible to avoid making the same mistakes as Emperor Mingcheng.

If the spy mentioned in that secret letter had not been Xiao Li but someone else, without that intricate connection with Wen Yu, he probably wouldn’t have made such an arbitrary decision.

He thought, perhaps he was wrong. The imperial daughter of Great Liang was far more clearheaded than he had assumed.

She didn’t need his pressure in the name of righteousness, nor did she need him to make any decisions for her.

But he had no regrets, because even if Xiao Li had only a one in ten thousand chance of being a spy, that hidden danger had already been eliminated.

In the future, even if Wen Yu was angry and no longer wanted him as an advisor, with her current character, she could already handle everything.

What he sought had thus been achieved.

Li Yao maintained his posture leaning on his cane unchanged. His graying beard and hair floated in the wind. His entire person seemed to have aged considerably. After staring at Wen Yu for a long time, he finally only said: “This old minister’s virtue and conduct are lacking. I’m unworthy to continue wielding the power of regent. Please, Princess, revoke this authority. Once it’s proven that Xiao Li is not a spy, this old minister will take his own life to see him.”

Before coming, Wen Yu had indeed been full of anger, but after Li Yao spoke these words, she only felt that all that anger had transformed into deep powerlessness and bitterness that made her entire throat hoarse.

Xiao Li’s death—ultimately, it was still because of the hatred and mission she bore on her shoulders.

She closed her eyes heavily: “The one who wronged him was me.”

—

A drop of water fell on Xiao Li’s brow. His eyelids moved with difficulty. Before his eyes was only a residual image like floating light. Around him were vague sounds of speaking.

“Old sir, does your medicine work or not? Didn’t you say he would wake up within two days at the latest? How many days has it been now?”

“That was according to the original prescription. In these chaotic times of war and famine, many medicinal materials can’t be bought. I could only find medicinal materials with similar properties to substitute…”

“Can the poison still be extracted then?” The younger voice was clearly anxious.

“It seems it can. Haven’t you seen that the area around the wound is no longer turning purple?” The older voice sounded lacking in vigor but was quite familiar.

“Wuu… A’niu doesn’t want Big Brother to die…”

It seemed someone was also crying. The sounds were really too noisy. Xiao Li’s consciousness was muddled—he couldn’t hear clearly what the people around him were saying. He tried hard to open his eyes, but his energy was limited. He soon fell back into unconsciousness.

Later, while consciousness was hazy, he did become aware that someone was using chopsticks to pry open his teeth, forcibly pouring several bowls of medicinal soup into him.

In even hazier memories, it seemed someone had also struggled to make him drink medicinal soup—he had drunk deeply of sweet rain while half-dreaming and half-awake. In his blurred vision appeared firelight and Wen Yu’s face, along with the specks of blood on her lips.

When Xiao Li woke drenched in sweat, his entire person was still somewhat dazed. He didn’t know whether the hazy memories that appeared between life and death were things that had truly happened in the past or his imaginings in dreams.

A sharp “crack” came from the doorway. Only then did he abruptly halt his thoughts and look up to see A’niu blocking the doorway like a door panel, completely blocking out the light from outside. Broken pottery shards scattered at his feet. Seeing him wake up, he seemed somewhat at a loss, then—whether from joy or urgency—he ran outside crying while calling for Doctor Tao.

Xiao Li opened his mouth to call him but found his throat extremely dry and hoarse, unable to make a sound at all. Moreover, probably because residual poison hadn’t been cleared, merely moving his body slightly still made him feel dizzy, and the wound on his rear shoulder also ached.

In this moment, all of Xiao Li’s memories returned. The Azure Cloud Guards’ assassination attempt and the coldness brought by that poisoned arrow made him feel that having such a beautiful dream under these circumstances was truly ridiculous.

He couldn’t blame others for viewing him as worse than a stray dog on the street—indeed, it was his own base nature.

Xiao Li’s hand with bulging veins forcefully gripped the straw spread beneath him. Thinking of Zhaobai saying that Xiao Huiniang was in Pei Song’s hands, his eyes filled with hatred. Disregarding the poison and injuries all over his body, he propped his arms on the bed edge, about to force himself up.

Zhang Huai, who had rushed over upon hearing the commotion, quickly shouted to stop him: “Don’t move! Don’t move! The poison in your body hasn’t been completely extracted—you can’t get out of bed for a short time!”