The night was silent and still. In the tranquil study, deep yellow lamplight illuminated snow-white embossed stationery with gold-trimmed edges. Upon it, vigorous and elegant handwriting flowed with spirited flourish, line after line streaming smoothly from the pen tip.
A letter to Master Ning Cheng, esteemed author of “Dream Records of Xi Liang.”
I have read this book three times. Setting it aside, I’ve pondered it again and again. Considering that Master Ning has accompanied this prince since childhood—I practically watched you grow up—how could I have never discovered such great talent in you? Not only are you skilled in poetry and prose, but also accomplished in calligraphy and painting. Your poetry and prose sparkle with random brilliance, your calligraphy and painting dance with wild abandon, and your fighting cock illustration is particularly well done—it truly resembles fighting cocks.
Looking at it now, having you serve merely as a guard is truly a waste of your talents. When you return from this Xi Liang assignment, I shall send you to be the steward of our estate in Henei. That area borders the neighboring country of Nanmo, which is especially uncivilized, unruly, impoverished, and desolate. I imagine that once you arrive and proclaim your divine book, they will surely submit in admiration, thereafter surrendering their land without resistance. The great enterprise of expanding our nation’s territory shall thus depend entirely on your great talents.
I have earnestly and respectfully read your book. Though only four chapters, each one is a classic—thrillingly marvelous, leaving this prince eager to “know what happens next in the following installment.” Especially your “personal opinions”—truly breathtaking, worthy of pounding the table in acclaim.
As such, regarding your “personal opinions,” this prince also has some small “personal opinions” of his own. I now presume to present them and earnestly request that you not spare your guidance.
First: Regarding “The Secret Lotus History of Gu Nanyi and Wanhua Tower’s Top Courtesan Qianqian.”
Personal opinion one: No one under heaven is more despicable than you. Personal opinion two: This Lotus case has been transferred to this prince—you need not trouble yourself. Personal opinion three: This prince only needs an opportunity to dismiss you. Personal opinion four: This prince’s hands are itching—you’d better be careful. Personal opinion five: Last time you spent an entire month soaking in Phoenix Fairy Tower, I thought you were pursuing Little Phoenix Fairy and was even considering helping you buy out her contract—wasn’t that it? You were just writing? Never mind then. Personal opinion six: None.
Second: Regarding “The Lightning-Fast Chest-Groping Incident of Gu Nanyi.”
Personal opinion one: Somewhat correct. Personal opinion two: Some people’s resistance you cannot detect. Personal opinion three: This prince didn’t cry, but this prince thinks you might cry soon. Personal opinion four: Why do you think? Personal opinion five: This prince suddenly feels that expelling you from the Chu Prince’s Manor is also a small matter. Personal opinion six: Are you certain you don’t need me to order someone to rush eight hundred li express delivery to urge you to set aside your writing endeavors and find a way to immediately become the steward in Henei?
Third: Regarding “Evil Guard Lures Man to Circle Mountain, Loyal Ning Cheng Suffers Devastating Calamity!”
Personal opinion one: As for whether I believe it—you must believe it whether you believe it or not. Personal opinion two: You’re finally clever for once. Personal opinion three: Don’t you know that peeping is a crime? Personal opinion four: This prince will forward your original letter to Feng Zhiwei, severely condemning her treacherous conduct toward you. This is within my duties, a simple gesture, not worth mentioning—you need not thank me. Personal opinion five: The Henei estate welcomes you. Personal opinion six: Very good.
Fourth: Regarding “That Lingering Lick of Romance at Xi Liang’s Longjiang Station.”
For this section I have no personal opinions. After reading it, this prince has already written the document dispatching you to the Henei estate, requiring that you be provided filling meals of sorghum rice and coarse cotton clothes for warmth. This prince’s deep affection for you requires no tearful gratitude from you, but considering your loyalty and honesty, you will surely feel overwhelmingly humbled and wish to thank this prince. However, from your sweat cloth down to your shoe insoles, everything belongs to this prince—there’s absolutely no reason to take this prince’s things and give them back to this prince. This prince has thought it over and decided to reluctantly accept this painting you’ve sent. You need not wait for the courier to return it to you—all this sending back and forth is utterly meaningless! Well then, Master Ning, that’s all. You may go wash up and sleep now.
By eight-hundred-li express courier, the longest official document Prince Chu had ever written to a subordinate was sent out. Through the night, lamplight illuminated that person’s refined and ethereal countenance as he rested his brow in thought, faint smile touched with shallow contemplation.
The winds that swept through his long hair traversed ten thousand li of territory, circled over foreign lands, and when they once again stirred the dim candlelight of a certain secret chamber, they had become light and cautious.
The people inside the room also spoke lightly and cautiously, as if whispering.
“…At the end of Xi Liang’s seventeenth year under Emperor Shengwu, the only pregnant concubine in the palace, Imperial Concubine Mi, gave birth to a son. At that time, His Majesty was touring the southern territories and was not in the palace. Before leaving, he entrusted state affairs to myself and several other ministers, and commanded his younger brother, Prince Li, to act as regent. His Majesty had not been blessed with many children over the years—his previous three sons and four daughters had all died young. Imperial Concubine Mi’s child was greatly valued. By all accounts, His Majesty should have returned before Imperial Concubine Mi’s delivery, but for some reason, she gave birth prematurely. The Empress said the premature birth was due to offending the gods and ordered Imperial Concubine Mi to move palaces. She also summoned people from the Imperial Observatory who calculated that people born in the Year of the Rabbit with yin elements must not appear near the delivery room. Imperial Concubine Mi’s most capable senior palace maid happened to be born in the Year of the Rabbit and was immediately banished to the Cold Palace. For a woman about to give birth to be made to move palaces was naturally improper. Imperial Concubine Mi struggled for three days and nights before giving birth. Near dawn, the senior maid announced the birth of an imperial prince, while Imperial Concubine Mi…” Lu Rui paused, a flash of pain crossing his eyes. Feng Zhiwei watched his expression, understanding dawning in her heart, but heard him slowly say: “Having suffered so much, her mind has been somewhat wrong ever since.”
Feng Zhiwei was stunned, not expecting that concubine to have survived. In such matters of succession struggle, what was one human life? But Lu Rui let out a long sigh and said: “Don’t underestimate Imperial Concubine Mi. Over the years in Xi Liang, imperial princes have died one after another, the oldest never living past seven. For Imperial Concubine Mi to become pregnant and safely reach full term under such circumstances was itself an extraordinary feat. She came from Xi Liang’s northern Angshan region, and her family bloodline… is rather special. Even her madness, I have doubts about to this day—I just haven’t been able to see her in person to confirm… But I’m getting off track. Let me continue with what happened afterward. That night, when the senior maid came out to announce the birth of an imperial prince, just as the Empress who had been waiting outside the hall was about to enter to see him, the prince suddenly disappeared!”
“Disappeared?” Feng Zhiwei was startled. “How is that possible?”
“Exactly.” Lu Rui smiled bitterly. “With a hall full of people watching, how could it be possible? Yet that’s exactly what happened. Afterward, the Empress flew into a rage and had everyone present tortured. Everyone said that after giving birth, Imperial Concubine Mi showed signs of severe hemorrhaging. Her mind also seemed very confused—she was screaming and shouting wildly in the hall. In the chaos, everyone went to check on her, and the senior maid who was holding the prince to bathe him suddenly tripped and fell. When she got up, the child was gone.”
Feng Zhiwei suddenly recalled the intelligence Zong Chen had initially collected for her, which mentioned that when the Xi Liang sovereign died and the Crown Prince succeeded him, Zong Chen had speculated that the Xi Liang sovereign had been dead for some time but they’d kept it secret. She asked: “After the sovereign returned and learned of this matter, what was his reaction?”
Lu Rui’s face suddenly twitched. After a long moment, he said bitterly: “The sovereign… didn’t know…”
“What?”
“The sovereign suffered a stroke while touring the border regions. The ministers accompanying him on the tour didn’t dare make it public. While continuing the tour, they sent urgent documents back to the capital, and Regent Prince Li found a pretext to hasten the sovereign’s return to the palace. After returning, the sovereign never regained consciousness.”
“But the timeline doesn’t match… According to the timeline, it was a year and a half later before your sovereign passed away. During such a long time without holding court, was there no discussion in the court?”
“His Majesty fought many battles in his youth, seizing land to establish the nation—he had truly exhausted all his strength and energy.” Lu Rui said, “He had too many old war injuries. After founding the nation, his health was always poor, which was also one reason for his lack of heirs. Honestly, within a few years of founding the nation, being unable to sustain it, he only held court and managed affairs for less than half the year. Most state affairs were delegated to several senior ministers and Prince Li while His Majesty himself became obsessed with alchemy. He didn’t seek immortality, but hoped to escape the suffering of constant illness. He spent all day in the palace with various Taoist priests studying alchemical texts. His one and only tour outside the palace was actually to seek an earthly immortal rumored to have appeared in a certain southern mountain. So for him not to hold court for a year or two, managing state affairs from his bedchamber in the rear palace while officials couldn’t see him—that wasn’t strange. Occasionally at major celebrations, when he was helped out to make a distant appearance, who could tell if it was real or false?”
“Your sovereign was truly carefree…” Feng Zhiwei smiled ambiguously. “Ha, truly carefree indeed…”
Lu Rui smiled awkwardly and quickly steered back to the topic: “The disappearance of the prince was kept extremely tight at the time. The palace attendants present were either sent away or put to death by various means. Even I only discovered something suspicious afterward and gradually uncovered it through careful investigation. Outsiders only knew that a prince had been born and His Majesty had returned to the capital. Then during this period, the court situation gradually changed. Because ‘His Majesty’s health was poor after returning to the capital,’ state affairs were still habitually managed by his younger brother. Prince Li then began to ‘by imperial decree’ interfere with military matters, purging the army, rotating border garrisons, cultivating military loyalists, stripping old generals of their authority. And during these maneuvers, any ministers in court who became alert and opposed his various national policies were gradually eliminated, either openly or covertly. Some persisted in their principles and thus had their homes raided, lost their lives, and their clans exterminated—like the former Left Prime Minister Han Ting and others. Some, sensing something amiss, chose to be prudent and play along, hoping to preserve their usefulness for the day when court affairs grew chaotic, when they could restore Xi Liang’s bright daylight. For example…”
“For example, Grand Marshal Lu Rui.” Feng Zhiwei smiled as she finished his sentence.
Lu Rui smiled bitterly and sighed: “Enduring the censure of the world and the harsh judgment of historians is merely to seek legitimate imperial authority. About a year later, when Prince Li’s power had grown, his forces in court deeply entrenched and unshakeable, his opponents all eliminated, leaving only those who could shout ‘long live’ to him, then one day, a newly entered palace servant sleepwalking at midnight stumbled into His Majesty’s bedchamber and discovered that behind the dragon curtain was a mummified corpse emitting a strange fragrance!”
Feng Zhiwei frowned, a slight nausea rising in her heart. She imagined that dark palace, layer upon layer of curtains, the rich sandalwood incense burning ceaselessly day and night to mask certain odors, a hand reaching out in the haze, touching a rigid, shrunken mummified corpse hollow within and blackened… Yin Zhiliang, a hero of his generation, who single-handedly established a nation, was once Mother’s most formidable opponent. Who would have thought that after a heroic lifetime, he would meet such an end? Even after death, his corpse had to be manipulated by his wife and brother-in-law in collusion.
“When this matter came out, news of the Emperor’s death finally leaked. They claimed he had just died, but given the corpse’s condition, who knew how long he’d actually been dead? The court was in chaos for a while before Grand Empress Dowager Dong ordered senior ministers to read the will, and the Crown Prince succeeded to the throne. Before the Crown Prince came of age, the Grand Empress Dowager would govern from behind the curtain, and Prince Li was granted the title of Regent Prince to control state affairs. At the time, all the ministers knew something was wrong, but the Regent Prince’s faction was spread throughout the court and country. Everyone was angry but dared not speak. The matter thus settled into dust until now.” Lu Rui exhaled deeply, leaning back and brushing aside a few stray hairs from his forehead, looking somewhat vexed. “I sent my youngest son into the palace to be His Majesty’s personal guard—the one you saw today—hoping to discover some clues, or at least get to see Imperial Concubine Mi once. But Grand Empress Dowager Dong is also a formidable woman. She controls the rear palace so tightly not even water can leak through. My son is too young and has had no news so far.”
Feng Zhiwei looked at this Xi Liang senior minister, delicate as a woman, feeling some admiration. Regardless of what reasons drove this person to persistently seek the truth, his ability to assess situations, judge character, bend when necessary, and not fear public opinion all demonstrated the bearing of a great minister.
“I never expected to hear such a thrilling secret history of the Xi Liang imperial family tonight.” After pondering a moment, Feng Zhiwei smiled. “This would be a closely guarded secret in any country. Why does the Grand Marshal trust me so much as to reveal everything?”
Lu Rui smiled bitterly, thinking: Would I willingly speak so plainly? But if I don’t speak plainly, would you—someone who won’t release the hawk until seeing the rabbit—say even one more word to me? Now you act innocent. He could only stand and bow deeply: “By showing sincerity, one can speak heart to heart. Lu Rui only hopes that Marquis Wei will speak frankly about your daughter’s origins.”
Feng Zhiwei pondered briefly. Just as she was about to speak, Gu Nanyi suddenly coughed lightly. Feng Zhiwei looked up, and their gazes collided in the dark chamber. This was the first time Young Master Gu had actively given her a hint that he wanted to express an opinion. Feng Zhiwei smiled and used her eyes to reassure the young master, then said to Lu Rui: “I found Zhixiao in autumn of Changxi’s thirteenth year at Nanhai’s Fengzhou dock. At the time, Fengzhou dock was in chaos. Zhixiao was hidden under a basin with a woman lying on top of it. The woman presumably died protecting her. I originally thought that was Zhixiao’s mother, but looking at it now, perhaps not?”
Lu Rui listened, his eyes brightening as he stood up urgently: “Does your daughter have a longevity lock or other items proving her birth date or identity?”
Feng Zhiwei smiled frankly: “No.”
Lu Rui was stunned, saying suspiciously: “No? Really none?”
“Lord Lu doesn’t know the situation at that time.” Feng Zhiwei said, “Fengzhou dock was in severe chaos. Many of the Chang family’s thugs were roaming about. That woman died in a corner of the dock, and her body had been disturbed by someone. Presumably, even if she had carried valuable items, they had all been looted.”
Lu Rui sat down in a daze, frowning with a doubtful expression.
Watching the expression on his face, Feng Zhiwei suddenly smiled: “Does Lord Lu suspect that your palace’s current Majesty is not the real one? Do you suspect my Zhixiao is? That would truly be absurd. Leaving aside everything else, the distinction between male and female is quite obvious. What Imperial Concubine Mi gave birth to was a prince.”
“Prince or princess, who knows?” Lu Rui sneered coldly. “The child disappeared the moment it was born. Most of those who attended in the hall died. Whether it was male or female, perhaps only Imperial Concubine Mi and those one or two people with overwhelming power know clearly. Marquis Wei, you are a capable minister of Tiansheng. You should know that under those circumstances, what Imperial Concubine Mi gave birth to could only be a prince. Even if it wasn’t a prince, it had to be a prince.”
“Then how does this connect to Zhixiao? Even Tiansheng’s court doesn’t necessarily know my Zhixiao’s adoption story. How did the Grand Marshal learn of it?”
“This must start with Imperial Concubine Mi’s background.” Lu Rui said, “Imperial Concubine Mi came from Xi Liang’s northern Angshan, which borders Tiansheng’s southern Min region and the Hundred Thousand Mountains. It has many mysterious ethnic groups. Imperial Concubine Mi’s family has lived within Angshan for generations, not associating with outsiders, upholding the most ancient family rules and clan regulations. Members of her family had personalities and behaviors vastly different from ordinary people, and even possessed their own set of writing passed down from ancient times. Imperial Concubine Mi was the youngest daughter of that family. From childhood, she detested the family’s stale and cumbersome customs and was determined to fly out of the mountains. Later, through fortunate circumstances with someone’s help, she truly escaped Angshan. She was tired of the lonely, cold life unchanging for decades and loved excitement and competition. So after arriving in the capital, just as the palace was selecting ladies, when a selected lady was riding in a sedan chair into the palace, she snuck into the sedan, knocked out the lady, switched clothes with her, and when the sedan bearers stopped to rest, pushed her out. She thus took her place and entered. That selected lady didn’t want to enter the palace anyway, so this turned out to be a blessing in disguise—she didn’t make a fuss and secretly returned home. Imperial Concubine Mi thus entered the palace and worked her way up from palace maid to concubine. Having been tempered in the palace for many years, she knew that in the palace, the most important thing was secrecy. Many matters, if you kept the secret, you kept your life. So to transmit messages within the palace, she used her family’s ancient writing system. Only her most trusted palace attendants and… I knew. After Imperial Concubine Mi went mad, her most trusted senior palace attendant Lüfu disappeared, and Imperial Concubine Mi madly scribbled and wrote every day. No one recognized what those characters were. Once the Regent Prince brought an ancient calligraphy scroll, saying he wanted to consult me on some ancient characters. I recognized at a glance that it was Imperial Concubine Mi’s writing. It said: Lüfu, extreme west of the west.”
The extreme west of Xi Liang’s west would be Tiansheng.
“When I saw Imperial Concubine Mi’s writing, I knew there must be something suspicious. First I searched for Lüfu in Xi Liang’s western territories without success, then I thought, west of the western territories—that’s Tiansheng. The Regent Prince’s power extends throughout Xi Liang. Perhaps Imperial Concubine Mi felt that only by fleeing Xi Liang could there be hope for survival. At the time, I didn’t yet know about the prince disappearing right after birth. I just wanted to find Lüfu first. So I secretly sent people into Tiansheng, searching from Min region all the way. Later, near Nanhai’s Fengzhou, they discovered marks left by Lüfu, also using that extinct script. My people made rubbings of the characters and brought them back. What Lüfu wrote was: I brought the young master to Nanhai.”
Feng Zhiwei remained silent. Lu Rui glanced at her: “We later found where Lüfu was buried and confirmed her corpse, but the young master she mentioned was nowhere to be found. We considered that Nanhai has specialized charitable halls and searched there too, but none matched. Until recently, I received news that the adopted daughter by Marquis Wei’s side was very similar in age to the young master. The place where Marquis Wei adopted her was exactly where Lüfu disappeared. I have long harbored doubts about this in my heart, but given our respective positions, separated by a nation, it was truly difficult to meet casually. Fortunately, it coincided with the Regent Prince’s birthday, and I finally got to meet Marquis Wei face to face.”
Hearing this last sentence, Feng Zhiwei had a sudden realization, thinking: No wonder the Regent Prince’s birthday celebration thought to invite Tiansheng—you probably had a hand in promoting it, right? Once Xi Liang extended the invitation, which envoy would Tiansheng send if not me, the Minister of Rites who had been to Nanhai and was eloquent?
Her teeth itched a bit, but her face smiled sweetly: “There are many children of similar age in the world. This alone cannot serve as basis for the Grand Marshal to seek his master, can it?”
“Age, location, and also…” Lu Rui said, “Personality.”
“Oh?” Feng Zhiwei raised an eyebrow.
“Imperial Concubine Mi’s family is a great clan that has endured for hundreds of years. Legend has it their ancestors, even before the Great Cheng dynasty, were descendants of the Divine Military General of the Great Han dynasty. The Divine Military General was a founding minister of Great Han, the beloved general of the first Han Emperor, supremely loyal and fierce. Legend says he had half wolf-blood, or that he was raised on wolf’s milk. In any case, his personality differed greatly from ordinary people. After the Han Emperor’s death, the general retreated to the deep mountains, declaring he would rather consort with wolves than approach humanity. Since then, generation after generation has never left the mountains. I don’t know how it happened, but people of this family all have particularly obstinate and cold personalities, fearless of death. I once sent people under various pretenses to collect information about your daughter’s behavior. The more I looked, the more it seemed like she truly could be Imperial Concubine Mi’s child…”
Feng Zhiwei lowered her eyes, smiling as she sipped tea, saying lightly: “The Grand Marshal’s thinking is good, but without proof, this matter absolutely cannot be brought forth for verification. Your country’s emperor already sits firmly on the throne. My daughter naturally need not be involved in this murky water.”
“Zhixiao is Xi Liang’s true empress, is she not?” Lu Rui stared at her intently. “Her throne was usurped by another. The rightful one is forced into exile in another country, and now must serve the usurper. Her mother was harmed by others and remains trapped deep in the palace, feigning madness to survive. Shouldn’t she take back everything she lost?”
“I don’t see that she’s lost anything.” Feng Zhiwei remained unmoved. “Setting aside whether Zhixiao is necessarily the imperial heir you seek, even if she is, what has she lost? She never suffered exile in a foreign country. On the contrary, she’s been pampered and lived in luxury. She’s even the Living Buddha jointly revered by the twelve tribes of the grassland Huozhuo. She’s never seen her mother, nor does she miss her, because she has a foster father who deeply loves her. I believe if you went to ask Zhixiao now what choice she would make—whether to separate from her foster father and be drawn into unfamiliar Xi Liang for a bloody struggle for the throne, or to accompany her foster father back to familiar Tiansheng to enjoy family happiness together—her answer would definitely disappoint you.”
“But you cannot deprive a mother of her expectations for her child. Zhixiao is bone of her bone, blood of her blood! You have no right to let a child and her birth mother miss each other like this, never acknowledging each other, regretting it for life!” Lu Rui stood up abruptly.
“I also have no right to decide for a child on an important decision concerning her lifelong happiness.” Feng Zhiwei didn’t even raise her eyelids, leisurely sipping tea.
“I will fully assist you, support Zhixiao in ascending the throne. Think clearly—once Zhixiao takes the throne, you will be the National Father! This will have immeasurable benefits for your position and career in Tiansheng!”
Feng Zhiwei fell silent for a moment.
Young Master Gu quietly raised his head to look at her, his eyes showing a hesitant expression. Feng Zhiwei averted her gaze. Young Master Gu was startled and also silently turned his eyes away to look at the wall crack beside him, as if flowers could bloom there.
There were no flowers in the wall crack, but a flower-like face seemed to emerge—Zhixiao’s face. Young Master Gu stared at that phantom little face, thinking somewhat bewildered: What did all that just mean? Zhixiao is Xi Liang’s imperial daughter?
What being Xi Liang’s imperial daughter represented, he hadn’t thought about and didn’t want to think about. Zhixiao was his daughter—this was a fact that could never be changed from the moment he held her in his arms.
However, he understood that sentence Lu Rui just spoke. If Zhixiao inherited Xi Liang’s throne, then Zhiwei would gain great benefits.
What kind of benefits, he also didn’t think about, but he understood all too clearly that Feng Zhiwei needed benefits.
Beneath her calm-as-an-abyss exterior, her inner heart had always surged like a torrential river. Deep in her heart, those unsheathed long blades of strategic planning, those meticulously designed traps and machinations, and buried in the depths of dark memory, those floating endless desires and the blood and snow of Changxi’s thirteenth year.
He knew it all, understood it all.
Very wonderfully, sometimes he couldn’t understand others’ simplest thoughts, yet could understand Feng Zhiwei’s most complex inner heart.
This came from rapport and feeling, not from thinking.
He knew the temptation this sentence held for Feng Zhiwei.
He understood her silence in this moment.
So he too fell silent, even turning his gaze away, not letting his eyes interfere with her decision in any way.
He feared his gaze would reveal unwillingness and pleading, making her uncomfortable and causing her to compromise.
No, don’t.
Everything under heaven could be sacrificed for Zhiwei.
In that silent and patient corner, Gu Nanyi thought of that little face he saw morning and night, silently calling to himself:
Zhixiao. Zhixiao.
The silence was actually quite short, yet felt as long as a lifetime because of the complex turmoil within.
Probably after a lifetime had passed, Gu Nanyi heard Feng Zhiwei’s voice, still so lazy and light.
“National Father? No, she is my nation.” She smiled, saying deeply, “Possessing her is possessing my nation. Losing her, I would have nothing.”
When she said this, she was looking at Gu Nanyi. This sentence was spoken on behalf of the man who would never make demands of her.
Young Master Gu pressed his lips together, somewhat wanting to nod to show his complete agreement, but suddenly felt his neck a bit stiff—or rather, his whole body felt a bit stiff. Not the feeling of being restrained, but too warm, like being densely enveloped in a warm ocean, gentle water pressing down silently. Unable to move and not wanting to move, only wanting to sleep forever in such gentleness. And his usually calm heart surged hotly and intensely—different from those entangled, embracing passionate surges, this was a tender, lingering intensity, like aged wine, intoxicating the heart.
He breathed deeply, feeling the skin on his face dry and pulled tight, but his eyes felt warm. Something moistened at the corners of his eyes, like spring rain melting winter’s parched cracks.
The room fell silent again. Feng Zhiwei smiled in the shadows. Lu Rui’s gaze shifted, looking at Feng Zhiwei with some disbelief. He had thought he understood Wei Zhi. This youth, from the first step out of Qingming, every step had proven his ambition. This had never been someone as light and carefree as he appeared on the surface, never truly indifferent to fame and gain. Wei Zhi had vigorous ambition, startling desires. Now, with such a tempting condition laid before him—success would bring endless benefits, failure would at most harm Gu Zhixiao’s life while he himself could completely preserve himself. By all logic, for an ambitious hero like Wei Zhi, sacrificing an adopted daughter to achieve great enterprise—what would that matter?
He had always felt he hadn’t misjudged the man. Now, he was somewhat confused.
How did such a kind person climb to his current position in the most corrupt officialdom?
“Zhixiao’s identity is undetermined, yet the Grand Marshal wants to pull us into this murky water—isn’t that too hasty? Moreover, whether to acknowledge her birth mother or not, whether to reclaim the throne or not—these are matters for Zhixiao herself to decide.” Feng Zhiwei ignored Lu Rui’s scrutinizing gaze, set down her tea bowl, stood up and walked away. “Thank you, Grand Marshal, for letting me hear such a wonderful story today. Truly worthwhile. I still have important matters. I take my leave.”
She walked out without looking back. Lu Rui stared at her retreating figure, revealing struggle, hesitation, unwillingness, anger… all sorts of complex emotions. After a long moment, he shouted: “Stop!”
Accompanying his shout came a clang. Though no one had been visible at the secret chamber door, two long blades suddenly shot out from either side, crossing at the doorway to form a huge “X” shape. The blades were extremely long, sharpened on both edges, gleaming coldly with a chilling aura. It was clear that no one could squeeze through the gaps above, below, left or right, because the blades could move. If anyone tried to compress their bones to slip through, that moving “X” would cut them in half.
In front of Lu Rui’s chair, iron plates suddenly shot out from all four sides, firmly protecting him within. The iron plates covered tightly—clearly he understood Gu Nanyi’s martial arts well and was thoroughly prepared.
A somewhat muffled voice came through the iron plates.
“This secret chamber appears to be wooden construction, but inside is wrought iron. The only exit is that blade door, made of hundred-times-refined snow iron. No matter how skilled in martial arts, you cannot crush it. You two need not waste effort. Of course, if you want to try squeezing through—I don’t mind collecting the corpses of you two cut into four pieces.” This was Lu Rui’s first statement.
“In Jincheng right now are two of your good friends who very much want to take your lives. I don’t wish to kill the innocent without cause, but they surely wouldn’t mind. Half an hour—I give you two half an hour to consider this matter that benefits you both without harm. Give me your answer after half an hour, otherwise this iron room will have to become your iron coffin.” This was Lu Rui’s second statement.
“Additionally, I’ve just been reminded that I need to attend to another matter. Excuse me for withdrawing briefly, you two.” Lu Rui’s third statement suddenly carried a smile. Then from the ceiling came a clicking sound as countless sharp blades shot out. The ceiling slowly descended, pressing downward.