Green and lush, the forest at the northern foot of Yucui Mountain concealed a residence of yellow tiles and red walls. Mythical creature figures perched on the upturned eaves. Small bells hung beneath the eaves, and when mountain winds blew, their scattered chiming was gently carried away. This was a secluded courtyard within the imperial villa. Crown Prince Liu Jian, Consort Li Qinglei, and young Princess Xin’er were all under house arrest here.

Xin’er was still young; she only knew this place was much smaller than the palace. After a few days she had explored the entire villa, and now she pouted as she complained to Qinglei: “Mother, there’s nothing fun to do here. Take Xin’er outside, please? Xin’er heard so many birds calling.”

“Be good, Xin’er. Never say such things to your father. In a few days, Mother will take you out to play again,” Qinglei coaxed her gently. The door was shoved open forcefully, and Liu Jian leaned in the doorway with a cold sneer: “Don’t lie to Xin’er. She’ll never get to go out again in this lifetime!”

Xin’er burst into frightened sobs. Qinglei held her protectively: “Don’t cry, Xin’er, don’t cry. Someone, take the little princess outside!”

A palace attendant led Xin’er away. As the crying faded into the distance, Qinglei finally sighed: “Why take your anger out on a child?”

Liu Jian walked into the room and sat down, staring blankly out at the sky, lost in thought. After a while, his expression calmed: “I don’t know what I did wrong, that Father treats me this way. Is it only because of Mother? She poisoned Zili’s mother to secure the empress’s position—was that also because of the Wang family, whose power grew too great, forcing Father to depose me?”

Liu Jian had thought this through clearly these past days. Prince Anqing’s willingness to help Zili must have come from a secret edict from Father. He himself had trusted the East Palace strategist he’d relied on for years, trusted Wang Yanhui’s exceptional schemes, believing he could match Zili. After the battle at Huangshui Gorge, he understood clearly—he had no combat experience at all, so losing was only natural.

He laughed bitterly: “Lei’er, I hear your second and third sisters are both safe, and Chancellor Li still holds his position well. If you get the chance, you should leave.”

Qinglei was shocked: “Your Highness, why say such a thing? Qinglei will never leave Your Highness!” Since marrying Liu Jian, these ten days in the villa had been the most contented, happy time of her life.

Seeing Liu Jian again, he was already a prisoner, a deposed crown prince. His spirit was listless, his star-bright eyes carrying endless sorrow, long since stripped of his once elegant bearing. He had shut himself away, silent for the first two days, refusing food and drink. Qinglei worried over him, staying by his side day and night, until finally on the third night, this former crown prince of a nation held her and wept aloud. He wept for his mother, wept at his father’s cruelty toward him, wept for himself, an unwitting sacrifice.

Qinglei could do nothing but hold him tightly with all her strength. That night, Liu Jian’s tenderness and passion reminded her of her first days entering the East Palace.

How good it was in the villa—less room to move, but also less scheming and calculation.

Qinglei rose and walked to Liu Jian, kneeling before him, resting her head on his knee. She said softly: “Your Highness, do you still remember the peach blossom banquet?”

“I remember. I heard the sound of the qin drifting from behind the gauze curtains at Chancellor Li’s residence, and I longed to find such a kindred spirit.” Liu Jian gently stroked Qinglei’s hair. He himself had once thrown himself wholly into pursuit of power, even scheming to use Qinglei, who had loved him purely. And yet her heart toward him had never changed.

Qinglei laughed softly: “Your Highness was fooled that day. Gu Tianlin played Pei Lan first, and I knew then there was no hope—our skill on the qin was similar, but she’d struck first and captured everyone’s ears. Even giving my all, I couldn’t have outshone her popularity. My heart panicked, and knowing you were waiting to judge, my fingers trembled too much to play at all.”

Liu Jue smiled: “So your little sister played Autumn Waters in your place? She fooled everyone there, myself included.”

He’d known all along. Qinglei sighed softly: “Does Your Highness blame me? That day I injured my own hand tendons on purpose, meaning to give up the qin altogether, lest someone as sharp as Wang Yanhui eventually see through me. I simply didn’t want to lose Your Highness’s favor, or the wealth and power to come.”

“That day when I heard your little sister play, I already sensed something was off. Later, hearing her play Autumn Waters in the East Palace with my own ears, I was certain it was her.” Liu Jian recalled that scene, his face darkening again: “Qingluo was naturally helping Zili—otherwise she wouldn’t have staged that performance. Even suspecting the truth of that scene, we were greedy for the troops in Prince Anqing and his son’s hands, hoping to win without fighting. Striking first would have given us no just cause, and the Southern Army wouldn’t have stood idle either—so we lost our chance to suppress Prince Anqing, his son, and Zili. In truth, if we hadn’t gone to Huangshui Gorge, who would have won at Fengcheng is far from certain.”

Zili and Prince Anqing and his son had long since plotted together; the moment Liu Jue returned, he seized control of Fengcheng’s three gates. He himself had also planted forces in the court and military—no small force, made up of men loyal to him for years. Even confined to the villa, should he ever escape, one call to arms would raise a force not to be underestimated.

Liu Jian gazed into the distance. Did they truly think him, a crown prince who’d never led troops, so utterly incompetent? His error was relying too heavily on the Wang family’s power, trusting too much in Wang Yanhui’s schemes. Fortunately, he’d arranged things properly before going to Huangshui Gorge—if defeated, his planted men were to stay put, taking no action without his direct order. Otherwise, confined here in the villa, he himself would have been like a lit lamp, and those loyal to him would have rushed in like moths to flame, only to die under Zili’s heavy siege.

He pulled his thoughts back, knowing Qinglei was waiting for an answer, and smiled gently: “You’re a fool. Since entering the East Palace, I never once heard you play Autumn Waters. Living with you morning and night, you were simply a gentle woman to me—where was that wild, unrestrained spirit the music revealed? Qingluo playing in your place only fulfilled the fate between us. Did you think I never knew you had other talents besides the qin? You truly are a woman of many gifts.”

Qinglei’s tears finally fell; years of hidden feelings were finally laid to rest. She choked out: “Your Highness! Since childhood Lei’er has been proud and arrogant, not knowing there’s always someone greater, narrow-hearted and petty—truly unworthy of Your Highness.”

“Having you is enough for me. Once I wanted Wang Yanhui to play her schemes for me—she married me yet refused to consummate the marriage, wanting only power. Only you, among all who crave wealth and power, added love for me on top. You never blamed me for later losing my head, determined to compete with Zili, even thinking to use you to win over Prince Pingnan—that alone comforts me greatly.”

Spring sunlight streamed into the room. The two of them huddled together like a pair of birds.

Zili arrived at the villa with a great escort of guards, satisfied to see the tight security stretching from the mountain’s foot. He had stationed ten thousand soldiers here, surrounding the entire villa completely. Ten days, and not a single stir. Could his elder brother truly be so incompetent that not one loyal man moved to protect him? He didn’t believe it.

The villa’s main gate slowly opened, and a palace attendant announced loudly: “His Majesty has arrived!”

Liu Jian led everyone in the villa to kneel prostrate on the ground, calling out repeatedly: “This guilty subject Liu Jian welcomes His Majesty—long live the King, ten thousand years!”

Zili rushed forward two steps to stop him: “Elder Brother! Don’t do this! You humble me, Zili!”

Liu Jian raised his head, smiling faintly: “Your Majesty, propriety cannot be discarded. I beg Your Majesty to allow me to complete the full ceremony!”

Zili released his hands and stood, and after receiving everyone’s formal courtesy, hurried to help Liu Jian up: “Elder Brother, we are brothers—no more empty ceremony between us. Zili has something to say to you.” He took Liu Jian’s hand and led him into the main hall.

With the doors closed, leaving only the two brothers inside, Liu Jian smiled: “Has Your Majesty come to grant this subject death?”

Zili bowed deeply to Liu Jian. Startled, Liu Jian dropped to his knees: “What is Your Majesty doing? How could I dare accept such a bow!”

Zili helped him up: “Elder Brother is a genius at governance, far surpassing Zili. Father’s final decree was aimed at the Wang family’s excessive power as imperial in-laws—that’s why Zili was made to inherit the throne. Now that the Wang clan has been entirely purged from court, today Zili has come to ask Elder Brother to return to court!”

Liu Jian felt a secret jolt of alarm, unsure what scheme Zili was playing at. He heard Zili speak earnestly: “Father’s health is failing. Our nation of Ning was governed impeccably under Elder Brother’s hand. I hope Elder Brother will set aside past grievances and lend Zili a hand.”

He was asking him to return to court, surely meaning to give him great responsibility—Zili had only been enthroned ten days; wasn’t he afraid he might rebel given such an opportunity? He must want to catch him in the act and eliminate him entirely. “Isn’t Zili afraid I’ll use this chance to build power, and challenge you again one day?” Liu Jian spoke bluntly.

“If Elder Brother harbors such intentions, Zili will step down from the throne this instant and yield to the worthy. Empress Wang and Wang Yanhui are already dead, Grand Marshal Wang has retired to his hometown, all Wang officials at court have been demoted and dismissed, and the Wang descendants will never again be permitted to serve as officials. With the imperial in-laws’ faction eliminated, there’s no reason Elder Brother couldn’t ascend the throne!” Zili said with a faint smile.

Liu Jian sneered inwardly—if he went along with this and agreed, he’d likely lose his head immediately. So he sighed: “After this ordeal, I have no more heart for court affairs. I only wish to live out my life safely with Lei’er and Xin’er. If Zili truly cares for his elder brother, grant me this.”

Zili opened his mouth to persuade him further, but Liu Jian spoke firmly: “These ten days in the mountain villa, Lei’er and I have come to understand each other’s hearts. Wealth and glory are fleeting as clouds—better an ordinary family of three, safe and content. My mind is made up. I beg Your Majesty to grant this.”

Zili stared at Liu Jian, his heart growing cold. If Liu Jian had been willing to return to court, he’d have felt at ease—he knew his elder brother wasn’t truly incompetent or mediocre. Never having fought a battle, yet he’d governed the court exceptionally well; he surely had hidden strength, strength already arranged in advance—which was why the ten days at the villa had passed without incident.

He himself had grown up amid every luxury, never suffering hardship, equally proud, deposed because of the Wang family’s excessive power as in-laws, only able to ascend the throne smoothly because Prince Anqing and his son had helped him. How could Liu Jian possibly accept this with grace? His refusal must stem from fear—if he returned to court and was given great responsibility, many officials who already admired him would rally around him, and it would be easy for Zili to find some pretext of factionalism and have him killed. It seemed the peaceful, quiet life he spoke of might not last long. A faint smile rose on Zili’s face: “In that case, I’ll have the Imperial Household Department convert Prince Li’s mansion into the Qing Prince’s residence. Elder Brother’s family should move there soon.”

Was this the greatest concession he was willing to make? Liu Jian sneered inwardly—if Zili truly wished to spare him, he could simply lift the confinement order, letting his family come and go freely. For now, better to wait until he returned to Fengcheng.

He had long guessed that Zili wouldn’t kill him. Though Father had deposed him, the stated reason was only implication by his mother, to eliminate the Wang clan—privately, there would be no shortage of people who felt his removal unjust. As crown prince for so many years, court officials had praised his handling of state affairs highly. If Zili killed him right after ascending the throne, whether openly or secretly, the ministers might say nothing aloud, but their view of him would inevitably shift. Popular sentiment always mattered.

Sure enough, Zili treated the deposed crown prince Liu Jian with great courtesy, and the act of personally escorting him back to Fengcheng earned unanimous praise from the court ministers—hearts tilted a little more toward the new king.

Zili reassigned Gu Tianxiang to command the Right Flank Army, handing the entire Southern Army’s military authority to Liu Jue. He granted Gu Tianxiang the seal of Garrison-West Marshal, and Liu Jue the seal of Southern Army Marshal.

Liu Jue returned to his mansion, his heart heavy with frustration. A full month now, and Zili had neither granted A’Luo a consort title nor released her. He didn’t know what scheme Zili was playing—was he waiting for A’Luo to agree in person? Knowing A’Luo’s temperament, once she dug in her heels she’d surely refuse. His heart grew anxious and unsettled—if some official submitted a memorial and A’Luo still refused the title, there would be only one path left for her: death. No matter how much authority Zili granted him, his heart found no joy in it. The greater his power grew, the emptier his heart became.

His public scene with Cheng Shiyue at the flower barge was known throughout Fengcheng. His father wore the eager look of a man desperate for grandchildren, and the court ministers all knew of it too. Why couldn’t A’Luo understand? A thought suddenly struck him—could Zili be waiting for him to lose patience and simply steal A’Luo away? A cold sweat broke out—if that were so, Zili would have the perfect pretext to strip him of his military authority, dissolving the threat he and his father posed. If that were truly his plan, then Zili’s calculations ran deeper than he’d imagined.

Watching Zili win over the ministers’ hearts step by step, treating the crown prince’s family with such kindness—what careful scheming! Liu Jue understood now: his father’s decision to unmask the Black Cloak Guard, disperse its core strength into the general populace, meant he had already seen this coming.

Only, regarding A’Luo… Liu Jue couldn’t act rashly now. Suffocated with frustration, he spent his days drinking in the Pine Wind Hall.