After Gu Nanyi spoke the first word, he seemed to finally calm down. His expression and tone became much smoother.

He was an extremely persistent person by nature. In his youth, to break through barriers in martial arts training, he could bury himself in snowdrifts for three days and nights, nearly dying. Having promised lifelong protection to Feng Zhiwei, he would never waver. Once he made a firm decision, there was nothing he couldn’t accomplish.

Today’s conversation, he felt, was as difficult as that childhood brush with death during martial arts training.

“Xiaoxiao,” he said, as if speaking to an adult, pressing his daughter’s shoulders. Following what Feng Zhiwei had taught him—that conversations should involve looking into the other person’s eyes—he stared unblinkingly at Gu Zhixiao. “Father needs you to have great freedom.”

Gu Zhixiao also looked at him unblinkingly, her eyes clear and bright. “Freedom—Father gives.”

“No,” Gu Nanyi, through Feng Zhiwei’s teaching by word and deed, now had the capability for back-and-forth conversation. “Father cannot give it.”

Gu Zhixiao tilted her head to look at him, her eyes questioning.

But Gu Nanyi was seriously contemplating how to proceed with “persuasion.” Beside him was Feng Zhiwei, the most eloquent and clever-minded person in the world, yet he had never learned human cunning. After much thought, he simply gave up and said very directly: “Father needs you to be able to control many people’s lives and deaths, to hold greater power. Then others cannot keep you, but you can keep anyone. That is freedom.”

“No.” Gu Zhixiao immediately shook her head. “No others, no others.”

She tilted her head and hugged Gu Nanyi’s neck, pressing her small face against his neck, squinting her eyes: “Father take me back home.”

Gu Nanyi wanted to pull her away to speak properly, but Gu Zhixiao wouldn’t comply, her small hands clinging tightly. Gu Nanyi’s hand pulling hers paused in midair, then slowly settled on her back, gently stroking his daughter’s smooth, dark hair. After thinking for a moment, he too tilted his head and leaned close to her ear.

All his movements today were very gentle, careful as if handling porcelain. His posture of leaning close to her ear was almost intimate, yet the words he spoke were almost heartless: “If you won’t control others, Father won’t want you.”

Gu Zhixiao suddenly raised her head and stared at her father, stunned.

But Gu Nanyi had already turned his face away, not looking at her. Rarely speaking so quickly, he said: “You promised me—either use your life to protect your Auntie, or leave me. Now I don’t want your life. I want you to promise me—stay here, and from now on obey all my decisions.”

Gu Zhixiao stared at him blankly, seeming unable to process the meaning of these words. However, she was after all an extremely clever child. After a long moment, she said lowly: “Stay here and control others?”

“Yes.”

“But I only want Father.” Tears welled up in Gu Zhixiao’s eyes, shimmering and pooling at the corners.

“Only when you do this will Father be Father.” Gu Nanyi looked at his daughter, his gaze repeatedly caressing the almost bewildered expression on her face, as if wanting to use that gaze to smooth away the wrinkles appearing on that small face for the first time from life’s pain.

He didn’t know that his own gaze also carried pain. Layered together, it was merely two people’s pain combined.

The small girl before him was not his flesh and blood, yet surpassed flesh and blood. She was a daughter he had personally held in his arms from infancy, personally raised until age three. He was less like a father than any father in the world, because that child’s eating, drinking, relieving herself, sleeping—all trivial matters were handled personally by him. He was more qualified to be a father than any father in the world—no father had ever participated so thoroughly in every detail of a child’s growth.

The persistence and warmth of his life he had given to only two women. Each was his blood, his life. Each made him feel that separation would be heaven collapsing and earth splitting, eternal incompleteness, losing everything—just thinking of it brought bone-deep pain. He had never imagined, never wanted to imagine, thinking he could stay beside these two people for a long, long time in this life. Yet when the moment came, he had to make a choice.

He chose to personally tear it apart.

To exile the child who had depended on him since growing up, never leaving his side for a moment, to a distant foreign country.

To push her onto the dragon throne with no support on four sides, alone and isolated.

Just thinking this, his heart immediately felt empty in one spot. Fine, dense pain spread upward, aching to the bone. In this moment, he finally understood that year in heavy snow, when Feng Zhiwei accompanied the coffin out of the palace gates and saw him waiting before the palace gates—that bone-chillingly desolate expression in her eyes.

That was called despair, forever falling into deep water.

This taste was colder and longer than eternal night.

Just as he now looked into Gu Zhixiao’s eyes. The small child’s eyes also held such pain—for her father who had always doted on her, this was the first threat and heartlessness.

Gu Nanyi turned his gaze away, staring blankly at the half-withered lotus leaves in the pond.

He felt pain, yet no regret. As long as it benefited Feng Zhiwei, nothing was worth regretting.

Having been by Feng Zhiwei’s side for a long time, he gradually felt that his help to her was actually not what she needed most. No matter how powerful the organization, ultimately it could only protect her physical safety. For the grand and magnificent desires deep in her heart, the organization’s power was not enough. And he himself—he didn’t have Zong Chen’s medical skills to heal people, didn’t have Zhiwei’s peerless wisdom. His supremely powerful martial arts could only help deflect blades and spears when she encountered them. But the greater dangers she faced came from those treacherous conspiracies and schemes in the world’s political landscape. He watched those approaching storm clouds and latent thunderclouds, completely powerless. That sense of powerlessness had been deeply planted in his heart long ago. Only when occasionally thinking of it would he console himself—she still needs me, I can protect her.

However, until now, when Feng Zhiwei’s own martial arts were sufficient for self-protection, when her supreme wisdom was enough for her to handle all dangers, when her rising position meant she had three thousand guards and no longer needed to worry about personal safety—he felt his existence and power so insubstantial.

He was willing to be merely her simple guard for life, yet unwilling that he couldn’t help her more.

Now, when he could finally do something for her, yet she would have to voluntarily give up because of him—he couldn’t accept it.

Zhiwei.

I once thought separation would be collapse. Yet when the moment came, I discovered that sometimes separation is also fulfillment.

Thus I sacrifice my flesh and blood, my kin, to fulfill that oath you made that day—the most vast and most difficult oath.

He pressed his lips together slightly, holding his daughter back on his knee, his face against the back of Gu Zhixiao’s head, carefully inhaling her milk-scented hair.

Gu Zhixiao, who had been in a bewildered state all along, was finally brought back to her senses by this embrace. She suddenly turned her head, a teardrop flying onto his face. She didn’t wipe it away but stared straight at Gu Nanyi, crying shrilly: “You don’t want me anymore! You’re leaving me alone!”

Two streams of tears fell silently from the corners of her eyes, reflecting glimmering light.

“No.” Gu Nanyi wiped away her tears with his fingers. “Father will stay with you.”

“Really?” Gu Zhixiao blinked, tears falling pitter-patter, but joy already emerged in her eyes. “Won’t leave?”

Gu Nanyi hesitated briefly, then said: “You’re too young. Father must stay with you.”

“Then we’re staying in Xi Liang?” Gu Zhixiao’s expression was urgent. “How long? One month? One year?” She stared wide-eyed, counting on her fingers. When she mentioned one year, she gasped.

“I don’t know how long either.” Gu Nanyi held her, gently rocking her small body. “Xiaoxiao, Father belongs to your Auntie. Father must stay here with you first, waiting for your Auntie.”

“Is Auntie abandoning you?” Gu Zhixiao, rocked until drowsy, her speech becoming unclear, said: “You follow her, take me along to follow.”

“It’s Father abandoning your Auntie.” Gu Nanyi said lightly. “Father must stay with you.”

Gu Zhixiao suspiciously raised her head to look at him, her eyes showing an expression of astonishment and delight: “Could it be I’m finally more important than Auntie?”

“Your Auntie has given us so much. You were saved by her and raised by her.” Gu Nanyi brushed aside a strand of her tear-dampened disheveled hair. “Father must do something for her. You must help Father.”

Gu Zhixiao was silent for a while, then nodded.

“You stay with me. We’ll be right here.”

Gu Nanyi stroked her face, saying slowly:

“All right.”

After these last two brief exchanges, the father and daughter spoke no more. Gu Zhixiao drowsily closed her eyes, a bit of unshed tears seeping from the corners. Gu Nanyi gazed at his daughter’s face for a long time. After a while, he bent down and slowly pressed his face against her cheek still wet with tears.

His face veil fell heavily, covering both their faces. No one knew what expression was on his face in this moment of closeness.

Cold moonlight shone over them. The embracing father and daughter were as still as sculptures, their clothes a pale white in the moonlight, yet their shadow merged into one black stone, stretching long and far on the pebbled path gleaming with cold light.

The wind rose in this moment, so desolate and vast.

The desolate wind scattered that father and daughter who had depended on each other until now, the most important conversation most aligned with fate in their lives.

The desolate wind blew through layers of rock gardens, unable to scatter the silent, surging tears at the corners of eyes.

Feng Zhiwei’s shoulder pressed against the rock garden, her head slightly bowed. The force with which she pressed against the rock garden was so great, one worried she might push the rock garden over or shatter her own shoulder, so much so that her shoulder was heavily stained with a layer of the pale green of moss, seeping into her blue brocade robe like a darker tear stain.

She bowed her head slightly, her face half-hidden behind a cluster of shrubs. No one could see her face at first glance. Only the moonlight in this moment knew that on that corner of her cheek, tears flowed silently and freely, like surging spring water, reflecting this moment’s cold moonlight and sky.

Since that year at Ning’an Palace, this was the first time Feng Zhiwei had wept like this.

Through the chaos on the grasslands, the dangers of war, the shock of capture, the traps of court politics—she had walked from the snow of Changxi’s thirteenth year to now, encountering so many things worthy of tears, yet had never wept. At some point she had thought that surely all the tears of this life had been shed in that year at Ning’an Palace before Mother’s sickbed, before the Tiansheng Emperor—shed in that manner both false and true, all exhausted.

Yet today she discovered there was another kind of pain—like a small knife carving into bone marrow, turning this body’s frozen blood and marrow into endless flowing tears.

This once-in-a-lifetime conversation of others, every word plain yet every word startling, every word heard in her ears like someone’s fingers viciously gouging at her ceaselessly trembling heart. In such surging pain, her whole body was both burning hot and ice cold, until she froze behind the rock garden—this person who had weathered so many storms with mechanisms throughout her body also lost all capacity for speech and action.

She could only weep, behind the rock garden, in the cold moon, not daring to let a single sob break this moment’s heavy and resolute tearing apart.

True震动 came not from danger and tribulation, but from the irresistible earnest affection given by another.

However bitter and difficult these eighteen years had been, this moment was equally painful and warm. She had thought that in this life, frozen in ice and bound in snow, she would never thaw. But today she was grateful she had still come through this journey.

Moonlight knew no borders, shining on both sides of the rock garden. Here was she, shoulder pressed, silently weeping. There was the father and daughter embracing, quiet as if asleep.

One heart’s thought, two places of lonely coldness.

After a long while, in the silence Feng Zhiwei heard some movement by the pond. She slowly peered out and saw Gu Nanyi pick up the sleeping Gu Zhixiao, leave the poolside, and hand her over to palace maids who had been waiting in the distance.

There were many palace maids waiting by the pavilion. It seemed Lu Rui had long ago confirmed Gu Zhixiao’s identity and quietly added protective forces around her in the palace.

When Gu Nanyi handed his daughter to the palace maids, and the maids came to receive her, his hands paused, yet he still resolutely handed her over. Feng Zhiwei turned her head and closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, there were no more tears in her eyes. She hastily washed her face with pond water, used some powder to cover the slightly swollen redness at the corners of her eyes. When she casually emerged from behind the rock garden to meet him, her face appeared completely normal.

She greeted Gu Nanyi’s gaze with a smile, for the first time grateful for his never-removed face veil—if at this moment she saw his eyes, she feared she couldn’t control herself from weeping openly before him.

“Where did you wander off to?” Her tone was calm as usual.

Gu Nanyi seemed to look at her carefully, then turned his face halfway aside, still with that inflectionless tone: “Played with Zhixiao for a while.”

When did he learn to tell such half-true, half-false, indistinguishable lies? Feng Zhiwei wanted to laugh but wanted more to cry. She raised her face slightly and said “Mm” before asking: “Is she well?”

“Very well.”

Neither mentioned bringing Zhixiao back home. They walked side by side slowly. On the pebbled path, their long shadows stretched out—his shadow thickly covering hers.

From a half-curled withered lotus leaf, dewdrops quietly fell, the sound subtle yet startling.

After a long while, Gu Nanyi suddenly said: “I have a secret manual. I’ll give it to you later. Practice it.”

Feng Zhiwei was silent for a moment.

Gu Nanyi looked at her somewhat puzzled.

“All right.”

After these last two brief exchanges, the two also spoke no more. They walked on in silence. The garden path wound and curved, seeming to twist endlessly without bounds, yet their shadows had already reached the road’s end.

After the imperial audience banquet, things seemed quite quiet for a period. This free time was indeed seized by Gu Nanyi to supervise Feng Zhiwei’s martial arts practice. He completely reversed his usual casual and easygoing manner when guiding her martial arts training, appearing stern and anxious. Many times it was almost coercive teaching—a move that should take three days to master, he demanded must be learned in half a day, and even half a day seemed too long. He actually held a small whip in hand, seeming to want to lash Feng Zhiwei at any moment. Feng Zhiwei actually didn’t have that much time for martial arts practice—holding a high position with countless matters occupying her, how could she practice from dawn to dusk like this? But she didn’t voice a single objection, pushing aside all social obligations. Except for writing a few letters daily and summoning a few people, mysteriously arranging some affairs, all other time was devoted to training with Gu Nanyi in the inner courtyard. Rising at cock’s crow, resting only at the third watch—many times utterly exhausted, she could barely crawl back. In front of Gu Nanyi she forced herself to walk back to her own room with effort, but once the door closed, she truly crawled onto the bed.

Despite this, she never uttered a word of complaint. Whatever the young master taught, she learned. The only thing she opposed was when Gu Nanyi wanted to infuse his own internal energy into her or wanted to open all her meridians. Whenever he had such thoughts, she resolutely threatened to stop learning. Gu Nanyi could only give up. Feng Zhiwei also ordered the secret guards who had accompanied her to firmly guard her door—others approaching was not a big problem, but she absolutely would not allow Gu Nanyi near, lest she sleep too deeply from exhaustion at night and he sneak in to deplete his own vital energy opening her meridians for her.

On the seventh day, Gu Nanyi finally had nothing new to teach Feng Zhiwei. She had barely managed to swallow whole his entire curriculum. What remained was just her own practice and improvement. Feng Zhiwei breathed a sigh of relief. Just as she was about to find someone to loosen her muscles and tendons or sleep for a whole day, she received an invitation from Lu Rui, inviting her to hunt at the royal southern gardens.

This was already the third invitation in recent days. Feng Zhiwei couldn’t continue declining, so she had to take a carriage to the appointment. Gu Nanyi didn’t follow but only arranged for his subordinate secret guards to protect her well. Feng Zhiwei raised no objection to this either. Since that night, both had appeared calm and at peace.

Xi Liang’s imperial gardens were west of Jincheng, a vast hunting ground seven li outside the city. When Feng Zhiwei arrived, Lu Rui was already waiting. Seeing her, he smiled: “Marquis Wei is truly difficult to invite—three invitations and you didn’t come. If today’s invitation hadn’t borne the Regent Prince’s name, I fear I still couldn’t have moved you, Marquis Wei.”

Feng Zhiwei was startled. She hadn’t actually noticed whose name was on the invitation, only recognizing Lu Rui’s steward and assuming Lu Rui had invited her. She quickly apologized several times, then asked: “Where is the Prince?”

“The Prince’s birthday is approaching and he’s terribly busy.” Lu Rui smiled. “But he dares not neglect distant guests, so he ordered me to properly accompany Marquis Wei at the imperial gardens.”

Feng Zhiwei thought to herself that birthday matters might not necessarily require the Regent Prince to be busy with everything—more likely he was busy making contact with Jin Siyu and Lu Zhiyan. Given Jin Siyu and Lu Zhiyan’s current spheres of influence, plus Xi Liang, they precisely surrounded Tiansheng’s Min region. And Min region had just recently experienced internal turmoil with vitality not yet restored—truly a good target for profiteering from disaster. Once finished, they could divide up Min region, each taking what they needed. Of course, the Regent Prince might also want to form an alliance with Tiansheng, but so far there had been no movement. Who knew what this person’s actual plans were?

Over there, Lu Rui had already ordered horses brought, smiling and pointing to the relatively remote west side: “I hear there are quite a few exotic beasts over there. We might as well hunt some for fun.”

Feng Zhiwei smiled in agreement and kicked her horse’s belly. Both rode excellent horses that shot out like arrows. The guards couldn’t keep up and were left far behind.

Entering the forest, Lu Rui reined in his horse. Eyes narrowed, he smiled at Feng Zhiwei: “Marquis Wei’s departure last time without notice was truly lacking in grace.”

“The Grand Marshal greeted honored guests with a blade formation—I’d say that lacked propriety first.”

Lu Rui smiled with the beauty of a lady of the inner chambers, saying lightly: “Honored guest? I fear this moment’s honored guest might be the next moment’s prisoner in the dock.”

“Oh?” Feng Zhiwei raised one eyebrow.

“Envoys from both Da Yue and Changning are in Jincheng—I presume Marquis Wei also knows.” A mocking smile curved Lu Rui’s lips. “I don’t know if it’s because Marquis Wei’s personal relations are too poor or what, but supposedly both Da Yue and Changning have made contact with the Regent Prince, each proposing alliance requirements. All terms are extremely favorable to our Xi Liang. The only requirement is to keep Marquis Wei’s life.”

He smiled, raising his whip to look at Feng Zhiwei, exclaiming in admiration: “One life can topple a nation’s interests—Marquis Wei is truly a capable person.”

“Truly my honor.” Feng Zhiwei smiled. “Has the Regent Prince made up his mind?”

“Why must I tell you?” Lu Rui yawned. His pale face took on a haggard dark tinge, looking as if he hadn’t slept for several days. “Just because of your refusal to me?”

“The Grand Marshal’s heart is too small.” Feng Zhiwei tapped her saddle with her riding crop, raising her eyebrows with a smile. “We’re both politicians. We should understand best that in this world, there’s absolutely no such thing as immediate agreement upon first asking, is there?”

“Then how does Marquis Wei plan to answer now?” Lu Rui’s eyes brightened as he immediately said: “I have everything ready—I’ve just been waiting for Marquis Wei’s eastern wind!”

“Oh?”

“As one of the late Emperor’s most valued regent ministers, once second only to one and above ten thousand, how could my many years of accumulated power be looked down upon by Yin Zhishu?” Lu Rui smiled mockingly. “Of the original three great regent ministers, though only I remain, precisely because I shamelessly survived, many former dynasty’s old ministers were preserved. These years of painstaking management—never mind other things, within this imperial city, catching Yin Zhishu by surprise, trapping him and taking his life, I imagine is not difficult. But to send forth troops requires proper justification. Without proof of legitimate imperial authority in my hands, I cannot gain the assistance of many old ministers at court. This proof, I hope Marquis Wei will bestow upon me.”

“The Grand Marshal has said so much, yet I hear your grasp is actually not great.” Feng Zhiwei looked toward a corner of the distant imperial city, smiling leisurely. “To topple the Regent Prince requires surprise and must be within the imperial city. Clearly, once he leaves the imperial city, even if you support legitimate imperial authority, smooth succession to the throne will be impossible, correct?”

Lu Rui remained silent. After a long while he finally said: “It’s true that the Regent Prince controls most military power, but his greatest flaw is this—he is overt while I am covert. I know his forces like the back of my hand and can even partially mobilize them, while he never knows my thoughts. He could never dream that the Grand Marshal he relies on as his right arm harbors other intentions. On this point alone, Yin Zhishu is certain to lose.”

“The Regent Prince, having climbed to such a high position, is also a hero of his generation. Kings are inherently suspicious, looking left and right they trust few. What makes the Grand Marshal certain the Regent Prince truly has no awareness whatsoever of your thoughts?”

Lu Rui fell silent again. Feng Zhiwei asked no more, smiling as she drew her bow to test shoot a deer urgently dashing past ahead. Just as the string was fully drawn and about to release, she suddenly heard Lu Rui say: “My only elder sister, whom I’ve depended on since childhood, is the Prince’s principal consort.”

Feng Zhiwei’s hand trembled. The released arrow lost its aim. With a thud it struck the deer’s tail, frightening it into bleeding flight. Feng Zhiwei sighed “what a pity,” put away her bow, and turned to gaze at Lu Rui.

The fact that the Grand Marshal was also the Regent Prince’s only brother-in-law—she truly hadn’t known. It seemed everyone had downplayed this relationship, preferring to attribute the Regent Prince and Grand Marshal’s friendship to a master-subject bond of mutual admiration. Now that Lu Rui spoke it aloud, she couldn’t help that momentary shock—given such an inseparable blood relationship, why would Lu Rui still do this?

Looking at Lu Rui’s delicate, feminine features, she ultimately didn’t ask the question in her heart. After a long moment she said: “As an envoy from another country, it’s inconvenient for me to involve myself in your nation’s affairs. But today I can give the Grand Marshal one sentence—as long as the Grand Marshal can ultimately accomplish this matter, I have my own way to prove Zhixiao’s background for you.”

“That sentence is enough!” Lu Rui’s face showed delight. “After it’s accomplished, whatever Marquis Wei requests, feel free to ask. Opening ports, trade and commerce, and in the future should Changning Vassal State rebel, our nation can also send troops to contain them.”

“Those are matters for the future.” Feng Zhiwei smiled meaningfully. “When does the Grand Marshal plan to act?”

“On ordinary days the Regent Prince, aside from attending court and managing affairs, always keeps to himself, constantly surrounded by three thousand iron guards. Common people cannot approach within ten zhang. Even when sleeping in his own residence, he never fixes his location to prevent being taken advantage of.” Lu Rui said. “Only on a few limited days does he have opportunities to appear alone—New Year’s Eve and his own and His Majesty’s birthdays.”

“Seven days hence is the Regent Prince’s birthday. Half a month later is your nation’s Majesty’s birthday. As short as several days, as long as half a month.” Feng Zhiwei smiled. “I await the Grand Marshal’s good news.”

“I also await Marquis Wei’s good news.” Lu Rui jutted his chin northward. “Some people’s thoughts are restless—Marquis Wei should make early plans.”

Feng Zhiwei smiled, then suddenly said: “Oh, that deer I just shot ran past again! This time I won’t spare it!” As she spoke, she slapped her horse and gave chase.

Her crisp figure disappeared into the vast green forest. Lu Rui watched the direction she vanished, slight confusion showing in his eyes, then turned toward another direction.

People soundlessly emerged from all around, respectfully awaiting his orders.

Lu Rui reined in his horse, silent and unmoving, gazing distantly toward the imperial city.

All around, his subordinates remained quietly silent. No one urged or disturbed him.

After a long while, Lu Rui raised his whip. The riding crop rippled with faint black shadows in midair. In the crisp crack of the whip, he said: “The plan to kill the Prince—begin.”

Once Feng Zhiwei had ridden out of Lu Rui’s sight, she immediately abandoned chasing that deer. Her fingers crossed, making a secret signal. Before long, a gray-clothed person appeared at her side.

“Starting now, mobilize all personnel in Min region.” Feng Zhiwei said hastily. “Find a way for me to intercept and examine all border-crossing documents. Eight-hundred-li express dispatches sent from Jincheng must be checked once, then checked again at Min region’s borders. Pay attention to document contents—report anything suspicious to me immediately!”

“Yes!”

“That matter I ordered you to do—how is it progressing?”

“The Regent Prince’s youngest son is well protected. It’s difficult for us to arrange an encounter between the Da Yue envoy and people from the Regent Prince’s residence. However, we’ve made arrangements at Qielan Temple where the Regent Prince’s consort frequently goes. The consort will go to Qielan Temple tomorrow to burn incense. We have a way to make them clash.”

“Those people who departed for Da Yue at the same time as me—what’s their current status?”

“They’ve infiltrated Da Yue according to orders and can act on your command at any time.”

“Then let them proceed.”

“Yes!”

The gray-clothed person received the order and departed hastily. Feng Zhiwei tapped her palm with her riding crop, closing her eyes in thought. The Regent Prince’s intentions—she had actually always understood clearly. All this talk of forming an alliance with Tiansheng was false. The old enmity between the two nations was there, and the Tiansheng Emperor was not a magnanimous lord. Once the war with Da Yue concluded, the old Emperor’s next target would be Xi Liang. Otherwise, why would he agree to let Hua Qiong establish the Fire Phoenix Army? It was just that, having just experienced the campaign against Da Yue and still wary of the Changning Vassal State, he wanted to rest and recover for a while. So he sent her to first deal with Xi Liang superficially. The Regent Prince naturally also saw through this deeper meaning, took advantage to warmly receive her, making a show of wanting an alliance, which made Da Yue and Changning uneasy, leading them to send successive envoys. Xi Liang took the opportunity to fish for benefits from all sides. And Changning had always hoped the muddier the waters the better, happy to participate. Even Da Yue’s Jin Siyu had impure intentions—his stationed troops were separated from Xi Liang by only a river. Best if Xi Liang allied with him; if not, stirring up chaos among the three parties was also good. That way his great army could remain entrenched under the pretext of needing to guard Da Yue’s southern borders due to Xi Liang’s instability, avoiding recall. Four-way chaos—truly everyone harboring unspeakable intentions, pulling one thread to move the whole body. What the final outcome would be—until the very end, no one could see through.

Currently it appeared the Regent Prince would definitely form a three-way alliance with Da Yue and Changning—using Da Yue to contain Tiansheng’s northwestern front, while Changning and Xi Liang simultaneously sent troops to seize Tiansheng’s currently weakest southeast. Once Min region with its many ethnicities and scattered loyalty, and the most prosperous Nanhai fell into Xi Liang and Changning’s hands, they would surely gain wings like a tiger. By then, Changning might either divide the land with Tiansheng for self-governance or drive troops straight toward the Imperial Capital. And Da Yue, though unable to participate in territorial division, could demand massive quantities of gold and silver as military funds for Jin Siyu’s hundreds of thousands of troops, helping him march north to seize Da Yue’s throne. Thus all would be happy.

If negotiations truly reached this stage, then she, this Tiansheng envoy, certainly could not return alive to Tiansheng.

Feng Zhiwei raised her chin, lightly watching the clouds rolling and flying at the horizon.

Then come.

Though you’ve been scheming for a long time.

You don’t know that there’s one person.

She too didn’t only start acting now.

After returning from the imperial gardens, the next day was Xi Liang’s Autumn Prayer Festival. On this day, the Emperor would go to the Altar of Heaven and Earth to pray for abundant harvests and favorable weather. Nobles and their wives would also pray on this day for the coming year’s myriad affairs to flourish like autumn grain. Major temples had flourishing incense and continuous streams of visitors. In past years on such lively days, there would inevitably be some friction and disputes. This year seemed especially tumultuous—a group of merchants from out of town watching the excitement at Qielan Temple inadvertently offended the Regent Prince’s consort’s carriage. Though it seemed nothing happened at the time, very soon the Regent Prince’s residence sent out word seeking renowned physicians—specifically those treating childhood fright disorders. Because the Regent Prince’s birthday was imminent and this incident suddenly occurred, the atmosphere in Jincheng became somewhat tense.

Feng Zhiwei had a routine meeting with the Regent Prince that evening and didn’t avoid this issue, expressing concern for the heir’s health and presenting calming powder for treating childhood fright disorders. The Regent Prince thanked her and accepted it. As Feng Zhiwei took her leave, she said lightly: “The Prince has only one son, the heir. Presumably in daily life you’re overly anxious about him. It’s not my place to speak presumptuously, but—sometimes children cannot be raised too preciously, or even Heaven will take notice.”

The Regent Prince was stunned, then laughed heartily: “Marquis Wei’s theory is quite novel.” He personally saw her out. After Feng Zhiwei had walked far and lifted the carriage curtain to look back, she still saw him standing before the door under the wind lantern, his expression appearing uncertain in the lamplight.

The next day Jincheng showed no major changes, only more troops coming and going on the streets. With the Regent Prince’s birthday approaching, strengthening defenses inside and outside the city was nothing unusual.

That evening Feng Zhiwei received a letter. She read it calmly and burned it completely over a candle.

But suddenly she heard knocking at the door. She personally went to answer and found it was Deputy Envoy Wang Tang. This steady and experienced Cabinet Secretary, because he was from Min region, had been assigned as deputy envoy. Throughout the journey, Wang Tang’s familiarity with southern customs had indeed brought everyone much convenience.

He entered, exchanged pleasantries, and without avoiding Gu Nanyi standing to one side, said very directly to Feng Zhiwei: “This official just went to the outer court to discuss birthday ceremony protocol with Xi Liang’s Ministry of Rites. On the way I encountered Miss Gu. For some reason she had red marks on her face. When asked, she refused to say, which caused some worry.”

Feng Zhiwei’s expression tightened. She had previously sent that fellow Ning Cheng to protect Gu Zhixiao. Ning Cheng had been enthusiastic for a while, but later for some reason became like a defeated rooster, listless. He hadn’t even objected to this assignment and just went. Could this fellow have been demoralized somewhere, slacked off, and let Zhixiao get bullied?

She immediately said to Gu Nanyi: “You quietly go check. Otherwise we’ll all worry.”

These days Gu Nanyi no longer stayed constantly by her side, seeming to deliberately cultivate in her the habit of his absence. With or without cause he would secretly slip into the palace to see Gu Zhixiao. Hearing this, he was silent briefly, nodded, and soundlessly floated out.

Wang Tang watched his figure flash and disappear, praising: “Lord Gu’s martial arts become increasingly refined.” He then took a letter from his sleeve, smiling: “Just now passing through the front hall, an eight-hundred-li express just arrived—a letter from Prince Chu, specifically addressed to Marquis Wei. This official brought it along.”

Feng Zhiwei was drinking tea. Hearing this, her hand paused. On this Xi Liang journey, Ning Yi had acted most unusually—aside from sending out his treasured guard to spy on and protect her, he actually hadn’t sent a single letter. She herself had felt a bit guilty not long ago and written one businesslike letter, telling Ning Yi about Xi Liang’s situation—picking what she felt could be said and simply explaining it. Calculating the time, a reply should indeed have arrived.

She smiled, a very peculiar expression flashing in her eyes for an instant, and extended her hand.