On the night Jing Yi was locked in the palace dungeons, Jingrong went to see him.

He dismissed all the guards from the prison.

Carrying two jugs of wine in his hands, he arrived outside the cell.

Inside, there was a reasonably clean quilt, a sturdy yet simple table with an oil lamp on it, a pot of tea, and three overturned cups. Jing Yi sat inside, holding a thin wooden stick in his hand, writing something on the ground.

Jingrong knocked on the wooden post with his hand.

Hearing this, the person inside stopped what he was doing, raised those sunken eyes, and met his gaze directly, then slowly lowered them to rest on the two jugs of wine in his hands.

He smiled disdainfully. “They say when the birds are gone, the good bow is hidden away; when the cunning rabbit dies, the hunting dog is cooked. How rare that you would come to see me.”

“This is your favorite peach blossom wine,” Jingrong said in a low voice.

“How thoughtful of you.”

Without responding, he took out the key, opened the cell door, and walked in.

Standing before Jing Yi.

At his feet were four characters Jing Yi had just written—demons and monsters.

The handwriting was neat and clear.

He smiled slightly, walked to the table and sat down, opening both jugs of wine he had brought, taking out two of the overturned cups and filling them.

He pushed one cup across to the other side.

Jing Yi then tossed aside the wooden stick in his hand, pushed himself up, and sat down opposite him, looking at the wine before him.

He understood!

He understood everything!

So he held the wine to his nose and sniffed it. His brow relaxed, and he tilted his head back, pouring the wine down his throat.

The wine’s fragrance entered his throat, and his whole body felt refreshed.

“Truly excellent wine.”

Jingrong poured him another cup.

Once again, he drained it in one gulp.

Jing Yi licked the wine remaining at the corner of his lips, suddenly making several “tsk tsk tsk” sounds with his mouth. He set down the wine cup, narrowed his eyes, and sighed. “Jingrong, if we had never been born into an imperial family, perhaps you and I would have been the best of brothers. It’s just a pity that fate doesn’t comply with one’s wishes. From the moment you and I were born, we were destined to compete. This is fate—no one can change it.”

His eyes merely darkened. “Fate lies with heaven; choice lies with oneself.”

“Choice? Jingrong, do you truly believe we had a choice?” Jing Yi’s gaze tightened slightly. He leaned forward earnestly. “From birth, we were chess pieces in Father Emperor’s hands. You were a white piece, I was a black piece. We could only end in victory or defeat. This is our fate as chess pieces. And if we didn’t want to be manipulated, we could only become the one throwing the chess pieces—only then could we control the entire game. Whoever we want to win will win; whoever we want to lose will lose.”

Though he spoke with such righteousness, his tone no longer carried the same viciousness as before.

Jingrong’s face remained calm, showing no emotion. He only asked, “Now, do you feel even a trace of guilt in your heart?”

“Guilt? Since I have no regrets, how can there be any talk of guilt?” Jing Yi spoke even more mockingly. “If there’s anything at all, it’s only regret—regret for that Miss Ji. Such a talented and legendary woman, yet in the end she became a soul under my blade. Back then, if she had been willing to serve me, she wouldn’t have ended up in such circumstances. Though I lost, I’ve left you with lifelong regret—that’s worth it!”

He raised his eyebrows!

Jingrong showed no anger. His calm eyes remained undisturbed, only quietly staring at the wine cup before him. “Jing Yi, actually, you know better than anyone in your heart—when you’ve lost, you’ve lost.”

“I admit I lost, but Jingrong…” Jing Yi suddenly laughed and continued, “As I said, as long as the throne exists, the winds in this palace will never stop blowing.”

“…”

“Don’t tell me… you’ve never suspected there’s another person besides you and me?”

Uh!

Jingrong: “What are you trying to say?”

“My death warriors would never wear any jade pendants on their persons, yet over half a year ago, among those people who tried to kill you at Jinjiang, some wore jade pendants. Don’t you find that strange? And the matter of the Ministry of Personnel’s memorial—it was clearly meant to point the spearhead at me. Even the sudden petition from the assembled ministers recommending me as Crown Prince—all of this was beyond my control. It was precisely because of this that Father Emperor grew suspicious of me and summoned you back to the capital. Clearly, someone was helping you behind the scenes! But were they truly trying to help you? Or did they want you to return to the capital to fight with me so that person could reap the benefits as the fisherman? I’m afraid you’ll need to think carefully about this.”

His tone was eerie, unsettling to the heart.

Hearing this, Jingrong’s eyes showed a barely perceptible trace of doubt.

And that Miss Mujin from before—whose orders was she following?

Behind it all… who exactly was it?

Friend or foe?

But now, he had no heart to care about such things. Looking at Jing Yi’s serious expression before him, he furrowed his brow and said, “Jing Yi, if there truly is a next life, I hope we never meet.”

I hope we never meet!

Having said this, he stood up to leave.

“Jingrong.” Jing Yi suddenly called out to him.

His steps paused, his back turned.

“Can you promise me one thing?”

“Speak.”

Jing Yi took a deep breath and smiled. “Mother Consort once said that Dongjiang was her hometown. She often said she wanted to return there once, to see the spring sky filled with cotton tree blossoms and the large mulberry tree planted at home. I wonder… could you take me back to Dongjiang? I also want to see the cotton tree blossoms and that large mulberry tree Mother Consort spoke of.”

After a long while—

Jingrong: “Alright.”

“Xuan’er is about to be married. Mother Consort and I cannot see her off. Could you… see her off for me?” His voice choked with emotion.

“Alright.”

“And… thank you!”

Jingrong’s body trembled, and inside his robe, his hand clenched into a tight fist.

Then he left.

In the cell, Jing Yi stood up and looked at the four characters “demons and monsters” he had written on the ground. In his mind flashed words his father emperor had said to him in childhood.

“Jing Yi, do you know how many people in this world have learned to write ‘demons and monsters,’ yet don’t understand the meaning behind it?”

“This son doesn’t understand either.”

“You must remember—those who would accomplish great things cannot be swayed by others. You must not listen to slanderous words or absurd statements. Only you yourself can decide your own fate.”

He nodded emphatically. “Yes, this son will remember. I will avoid demons and eliminate monsters, accomplish great things, and rely on myself.”

He still remembered the smile spreading across his father emperor’s face then.

It was a smile of approval.

The memory gradually dissipated. He raised his head to look at that narrow window in the cell. The light seemed to be divided into many beams, shining on his face one ray at a time.

Until those eyes slowly closed, and his body fell.

All that remained was the fresh blood flowing from his mouth…

Buddha said, a greedy person can never grasp flowing water, because the harder you try, the faster the water will flow away through your fingers. So someone asked Buddha, can a person whose hands are stained with blood turn back from the brink? Buddha said, yes! Another person asked Buddha, what is evil? What is good? Buddha said, if your heart holds goodness, that is good; if your heart holds evil, that is evil.

Then, how can a person whose hands are stained with blood and whose heart holds evil turn back from the brink?

When Buddha looks at mortals, he sees a great calamity. When mortals look at Buddha, they see an illusion.

The karma of humanity must ultimately be repaid!