Lanling Palace was not, as Xiyun had expected, overrun with a stream of visitors — for the imperial physician treating Shizi’s wounds had declared: Shizi’s injuries are extremely grave; he must rest in absolute quiet, and no one is permitted to disturb him!

With those words from the imperial physician, whether one’s concern was feigned, one’s intentions ill, or one’s purpose merely to seize the chance for flattery — all were left with no choice but to turn back the way they had come. Thus, apart from the palace attendants standing guard and in service, Lanling Palace was free of all extraneous persons, and thoroughly quiet.

“Young Master, that is all Chuanyun has to report.” In the Lanyan Chamber, Ren Chuanyun spoke softly to Young Master Lanxi, who reclined at an angle upon a cushioned couch.

“Mm.” Lanxi replied in an unhurried tone. His expression hovered between a smile and not a smile, between mockery and not quite mockery. His palm stroked with extraordinary gentleness a small, snow-white, pompom-like kitten nestled in the crook of his arm. His eyes were fixed on the cat’s jade-green pupils — teasing it one moment, seeming to threaten it the next. Neither the color of his complexion nor the cast of his expression gave any indication whatsoever that he was a man “gravely wounded and on the brink of death.”

It was precisely this expression. Everything within his grasp, watching with cool detachment as one person after another leapt into his snare — a faint smile, a faint contempt, laced with a trace of satisfaction at having calculated all under heaven while all under heaven remained unaware. Looking at the man before him, Ren Chuanyun’s thoughts drifted unbidden back to that distant past.

Both parents lost to illness, the family’s assets seized, dragging his younger brother through the streets with nowhere to go — yet heaven seemed to feel their suffering and pain were not enough. Not only did the bitter wind cut into their skin and the thick frost freeze through their bones, not only did passersby spit upon and revile them, but the bullying beggars who lorded over that corner of the streets snatched away the tattered cotton coat he had painstakingly begged from a farming family. And worse still — even the stray dogs and wild cats brazenly snatched from their very mouths the mantou that had gone as hard as stone.

On that particular day, a gang of beggars stripped him of everything he had, then refused to let even his younger brother go — for a small boy so innocent of the world’s ways, if sold to a childless household, could fetch a good price.

Utterly exhausted, crying and screaming to heaven, he could not hold onto his brother’s hand. Yet those people seemed to feel it was still not entertaining enough, not satisfying enough. They swaggered and sat before him, sweeping clean every scrap of leftover food he had begged, and their filthy, reeking feet kicked and stamped at him from time to time. In his ears rang his younger brother’s piteous cries as they tormented him. In that moment, he thought: is it truly true in this world that good is rewarded with good and evil with evil? Then why had he and his brother been visited with such calamity? Was there any justice in this world?

“To think that one outing from the palace could yield such a fine spectacle!” That voice — both refined and clear, belonging to a child — rang out amid the jeering, cursing, and weeping, sounding strikingly bright and crisp.

Looking up from the ground, he saw standing at the mouth of the alley a handsome and elegant boy of about seven or eight years, dressed in a black brocade robe, with a retinue of adults in varied attire gathered behind him.

The beggars who had been kicking and stamping him all paused. Even his younger brother stopped crying, though there were still faint sounds of sobbing. The beggars slowly drew back from around him. Anyone could see that the boy before them was no ordinary personage, and these parasites living at the lowest rung of society knew well enough whom they could and could not afford to provoke.

Was heaven at last willing to cast even a thread of pity upon him? What a beautiful thought that turned out to be.

The boy’s gaze swept over the beggars, swept over his younger brother, and finally came to rest on him. That gaze carried not a single trace of feeling or warmth — only cold, indifferent, utterly unmoved observation. In that instant, it was as though a basin of ice water had been poured over him from head to toe, plunging him in a single moment into the depths of despair.

“Baiying.” The boy was heard calling out in an unhurried tone, extending one hand.

Immediately, a man came forward with a deferential bow, holding a box. The moment the box was opened, the aroma of food drifted throughout the entire alley. He could even hear the beggars swallowing their saliva.

The boy looked at him, then flicked his wrist — and a plateful of pastries was scattered across the ground. The beggars all stared with hungry longing, still somewhat hesitant, not daring to move rashly. But then the boy tossed out braised pork, and in an instant the beggars swarmed forward like a stirred hive, scrambling for the food on the ground. The boy, meanwhile, wore a faint, slight smile at the corners of his mouth, and continued tossing out food — a whole roasted chicken, lotus-petal duck wings, brocade-thread fish — tossing item after item, and with each toss, he would glance at him once. Each item was swiftly devoured by the beggars, while he lay on the ground, stomach rumbling with hunger, utterly spent, nose bruised and face swollen, covered in wounds from head to foot — watching.

“Brother, Yuner is hungry…” His younger brother gently tugged at his sleeve, a pair of clear eyes looking at him with pleading hunger. By now the beggars had all surged off to fight over the food and no one paid them any attention.

Yet the boy was still tossing carelessly, as though what he was throwing was not exquisite and costly food but merely refuse — tossing with supreme ease. And with each toss, those ink-jade-like pupils would make a deliberate point of glancing over at him.

At last, when that sea prawn — thicker than his own arm — was tossed out, he suddenly scrambled up and hurled himself toward it. In that moment, he did not know where the strength that surged through his body had come from. He only knew that he had to seize that prawn — because he had to survive. He and his brother had to survive in this world where man devoured man.

Lunge, grab, strike, kick, bite — he employed every method he knew. His eyes were fixed dead on that prawn, rushing forward with no regard for anything else. That prawn was his!

Yet the prawn always seemed so unreachably far away. Every step forward he managed, it appeared to retreat a step. Heaven and earth themselves seemed to twist and spin, whirling around him without end. In a daze, that elegant child’s voice seemed to sound right at his ear: “The heavens have never dropped a great windfall. Everything must be fought for by yourself. If you want to obtain something, you must first be willing to give something!”

Yes. If heaven would not pity man, then man could only save himself. No matter the method, as long as one could survive, heaven and earth themselves could not be blamed.

“Since things are more or less in order, rest for a bit.” Lanxi’s voice drifted out with quiet indifference, drawing Ren Chuanyun back from the past.

“Yes.” Ren Chuanyun bowed his head in reply.

At that moment, a light knock sounded at the door, followed by the cautious voice of an inner attendant: “Young Master, Feng Wang’s honored palanquin will soon arrive before the palace gates. Do you wish to receive her?”

Those ink-jade pupils flashed with a glint of brightness in an instant. The hand stroking the white cat paused involuntarily.

“Welcome her at once!” That voice was hasty yet as gentle as wind and as soft as water, carrying a faint trace of subtle excitement.

Ren Chuanyun watched, his brow furrowing slightly. He then lowered his eyes, composed his expression, and said: “Chuanyun takes his leave first.”

“Mm.” Lanxi replied absently, his eyes still resting on the white cat in his arms, yet his thoughts had already wandered elsewhere.

He opened the door and departed. The hand within his sleeve clenched involuntarily into a fist. Ahead, the palace attendants and servants had already broken into a flurry of activity, all in preparation for receiving Feng Wang’s arrival.

Passing out of the Zelan Garden, he spotted the ceremonial procession in the distance, and bowed his head and stepped aside to withdraw.

“Master Ren, we meet again.”

That voice, seemingly wholly casual, came from above his head. At the farthest reach of his gaze was the hem of a white skirt — reaching all the way to the ground, embroidered with phoenix feathers — beneath which were just visible water-blue silk slippers, each set with a black pearl the size of a mung bean.

“Chuanyun pays respects to Feng Wang.” He kept his head bowed and offered a respectful salute.

“Is Master Ren here to inquire after Young Master’s condition, or… to share certain entertaining tidings from inside and outside the court in order to set Young Master’s heart at ease?” Xiyun’s gaze rested on that bowed crown, her tone measured.

That lowered head’s brow contracted almost imperceptibly, a sharp light flashing briefly in his eyes — yet his voice remained entirely unhurried: “Chuanyun is Young Master’s attendant, and ought naturally to attend upon Young Master’s side every day.”

“Oh?” Xiyun smiled faintly, her gaze shifting. “Master Ren presumably still has important matters to attend to — this Wang shall not delay you further.”

“Chuanyun is of no great ability and has nothing of pressing urgency.” Ren Chuanyun lifted his eyes slightly, yet in the end did not raise his gaze all the way. “Young Master is presently waiting for Feng Wang’s honored arrival in the Lanyan Chamber.”

Xiyun smiled faintly, her gaze moving, as though she had more to say — but stopped herself. She stepped forward toward the Lanyan Chamber. Ren Chuanyun finally raised his head and watched her departing figure, light flickering in his eyes.

“All of you wait outside. Young Master is gravely ill and must not be disturbed.” Before the Lanyan Chamber, Xiyun instructed her attending retinue.

“Yes.”

She stepped inside. The chamber was quiet and cool, still carrying a faint, barely perceptible fragrance. Parting the bead curtain, she saw Young Master Lanxi lying with eyes closed on the cushioned couch by the left window.

“There is no need to keep up the pretense in front of me.” Xiyun settled casually onto the brocade stool before the couch.

Lanxi opened his eyes. He looked at Xiyun seated before the couch — a long, deep, searching look — and after a long while, a faint, gentle smile bloomed at his lips, as soft as though afraid of startling something. “I thought you would not come.” He paused slightly, then said quietly, “I truly… feared you would not come. If you had not come…” His words stopped there. Those dark eyes fixed tightly on Xiyun, as though pouring into his gaze everything left unsaid.

“But here I am.” Xiyun said with a light smile.

“You know what I mean.” Lanxi sat up, reached out, and took Xiyun’s hand, cradling it gently within his palm.

“Is there anything in this world that is not within your grasp?” Xiyun looked at him. Her hand shifted slightly, as though she meant to withdraw it. “Am I not also within your calculations?”

“In this world, you alone are the one thing I cannot grasp.” Lanxi’s hand tightened involuntarily. Those fathomlessly deep eyes, which ordinarily defied reading, were at this moment as clear and luminous as a snow-reflected mountain lake. “You alone…”

Those words entered her ears, and Xiyun could not help but feel a jolt. They had known each other ten years — teasing and banter, mutual mockery, at times also mutual aid and support — yet… they had never spoken words like these. Even they themselves could not clearly define what their relationship was. Friends would not have jabbed and mocked each other as they did, yet at times friends might not manage the closeness they had achieved. Neither of them had ever crossed over into the feeling between a man and a woman; it had always remained this indistinct and undefined. She had thought it might simply remain blurred and undefined for the rest of their lives — yet now, having each returned to their true positions, drawn together by the turbulent shifts of the world and by the weight of various interests, they had settled upon a marriage alliance.

Only between them… was there truly the kind of devotion that could be pledged through life and death, that would not forsake each other until white hair? Could they, as they stood now, still trust one another, still be close to one another? She shifted her gaze to those dark eyes, looking at everything they revealed in that moment. Her heart was beating — somewhat loudly, somewhat rapidly. Yet, having arrived where they had today, could they?

The face before her was so composed and tranquil. Those clear eyes looked at her with stillness and quiet, an expression as deep and unfathomable as the sea. Lanxi suddenly felt a chill wash over him, and the hand holding hers trembled involuntarily.

“Rest assured — since I once promised to help you claim this world, then until this world has not yet come into your hands, we will always be walking together.” After a long silence, Xiyun spoke with calm composure.

Hearing this, Lanxi released Xiyun’s hand. He gazed at her steadily, and after a prolonged silence, sighed with a mixture of helplessness and melancholy: “Is this all we can be? Ten years of time — and it has only brought us to this?”

Yes. That was her answer — yet when it came to leave her lips, it became: “I don’t know. We… I don’t know how things will unfold between us…”

What would become of them? Perhaps there was truly no definite answer to be had.

Ten years had passed between them. To say there was not a single thread of attachment binding them would be untrue. Yet… they were no longer the simple wanderers of the rivers and lakes, the pair simply known as Baifeng and Heixi. Their current identities, their current positions, the circumstances they now occupied, the people and matters surrounding them — none of it was simple anymore. And even the nature of the two of them… from the very beginning until now, had it ever been simple? That future which seemed somehow foreseeable, yet also seemed to hold infinite possibilities — where would they walk to?

Hearing such an answer, a faint gleam of light passed through Lanxi’s deep black eyes. He lifted his gaze to Xiyun, reading there an expression of bewilderment and helplessness, tinged with a trace of quiet sorrow.

He released a gentle breath of relief. She was still here, still at his side.

“Do you like the flower I sent you?”

Hearing this, Xiyun paused, then turned her head and called out: “Bring the item in.”

Shortly, the door was gently pushed open, and two inner attendants entered carrying the six-sided crystal tower draped in light gauze, set it carefully in the room, and then quietly withdrew, gently closing the door behind them.

“You sealed the flower inside this tower and call it a gift to me?” Xiyun rose and walked to stand before the tower.

Lanxi smiled, rose, and came to stand beside her. Then he reached out and lightly pressed each of the six corner tips of the tower in turn. The crystal tower opened like a flower with six petals, and the black-and-white twin-stemmed orchid stood gracefully upright in the room. An elegant, refined orchid fragrance instantly filled the entire chamber.

“This ‘Lanyin Biyue’ — only the two of us may appreciate and breathe its fragrance!” Lanxi shifted his gaze to Xiyun as he spoke.

“‘Lanyin Biyue’?” Xiyun repeated softly, her heart stirring. She turned her eyes to Lanxi. “Lanyin… are you not afraid it will end in ‘Lanyun Xuguo’?”

“It is ‘Lanyin Biyue’ — never ‘Lanyun Xuguo’!” Lanxi said in a level tone, yet the meaning behind the words was resolute.

She looked at the ink-jade moon ornament at his temple, then raised her hand to lightly touch the snow-jade moon ornament on her own forehead. “Lanyin? Biyue? Lanyin… Biyue… Ah…” In the end she let out a long sigh. Could this pair of jade moons join together and shine as one? Could they reunite in one place after three hundred years?

Before that sigh had faded, a bright “meow” rang out. From within the thin brocade quilt on the couch, a snow-white little cat emerged, rolling its jade-green eyes round and round, looking at the two figures standing before the flower in the room.

Glancing at the white cat on the couch, Xiyun’s brow gave an almost imperceptible twitch. Then, composing her expression entirely, she stepped back a few paces from Lanxi. “How is it that what emerges from your bed is not a beauty?”

“A beauty, you say…” Lanxi raised one elegant brow, his eyes locking steadily onto Xiyun, as though searching for something upon her face — yet her expression remained unhurried and composed, without a trace of displeasure or… jealousy.

Xiyun lifted her eyes to glance at him, pressed her lips together slightly in a smile that was not quite a smile. “Well?”

While they spoke, the white cat called out “meow, meow, meow,” leapt down from the couch, and padded toward the two standing before the flower.

Lanxi bent slightly at the waist and extended his left hand. The white cat gave a light hop and landed in his palm, softly licking his palm once with a quiet “meow, meow,” then curled into a snowball-like shape and nestled there.

In the very instant the white cat leapt into Lanxi’s palm, Xiyun immediately turned her head away. Her gaze came to rest on the “Lanyin Biyue,” and her feet shifted, stepping back until she was about one zhang away.

“Don’t you think it is a beauty in its own right?” Lanxi smiled faintly, stroking the snow-puff-like cat in his palm with one finger, murmuring to it softly: “Langhua, Langhua, you are a beauty too.”

“Langhua?” Xiyun considered it for a moment, then gave a slight shake of her head, an expression of what seemed like considerable regret — though whether she regretted the name being bestowed upon this cat, or regretted that the cat had been given such a name, was unclear.

“I think it suits perfectly.” Lanxi stepped toward her, lifting the cat in his palm to present it before her, intending to let her take a look — for a cat this beautiful could indeed be called the flower of fine jade. But the moment his hand extended, a blur appeared before his eyes. By the time he could see clearly again, she was already a full zhang away, her speed surpassing even the pace at which she had once snatched his langyan fruit.

“If this cat is called ‘Langhua,’ then I never want to eat langyan fruit again!” Xiyun reached a hand into her sleeve. Beneath her fingertips she could feel raised bumps, one after another.

“Hmm?” Lanxi stared, taken aback. This person, who could arguably be called the greatest lover of fine food in all under heaven, was going to give up the celestial fruit “langyan” over a cat named “Langhua”? He studied her carefully, a gleam of faint light flashing deep in his eyes, and then he began to laugh softly. “All these ten years I have been trying to find your weakness, yet it never once occurred to me that you… heh heh… you are afraid of cats!”

“Wh— wh— what… I… I am not afraid of cats, I simply dislike them!” Her innermost thoughts thus exposed, a flash of embarrassment crossed Xiyun’s face — that face which had maintained its unruffled serenity all this time — and she stumbled slightly over her words. Yet by the time she finished speaking, she had resumed her air of self-righteous composure, as though she were indeed nothing more than someone who disliked cats.

“You are actually afraid of cats? You are actually capable of being afraid of cats? How could you possibly be afraid of such a thing?” Lanxi was still murmuring in disbelief, his gaze on Xiyun, filled with astonishment… and a thread of quiet delight — so it turned out that even someone as formidable as her had a weakness, had something she feared!

“You… you black fox! Birds of a feather indeed! A fox and a cat sharing the same bed… hmph! Hardly surprising!” Xiyun stepped back two more paces, rubbed her own hands together, and her gaze remained fixed on the white cat as though afraid it might suddenly spring at her. In her heart she was utterly vexed. She who in the martial world was the fearless Bai Fengxi, who on the battlefield and in the court was the commanding Queen of Fengguo — yet she was afraid of the one thing that everyone else would love!

Lanxi smiled faintly, looking at her, his eyes bright as snow, as though they could see straight through her thoughts. After a moment, he walked to the window, then with a gentle toss sent the white cat out through it. Turning back, he said: “Between you and it, of course I would let it go and keep you.”

Xiyun waited until that fluffy creature — the very sight of which made her skin crawl — had disappeared past the window before relaxing. When his words reached her ears, she could not help but press her lips together and start to smile — but halfway through the smile, she suddenly grasped the meaning behind his words, and her heart gave an involuntary skip. Color rose to her cheeks.

Lanxi looked at her and was momentarily struck. A blush? In ten years of knowing her, he had never once seen her show this kind of girlish manner. It was always she who teased others into flushed cheeks and reddened ears. Yet at this moment — that rosy flush on her jade-smooth cheek, like a rose-tinted glow cast upon a cloud of snow, displaying in full the beauty of her breathtaking allure — she was standing right before him. And this person had turned shy over a single word from him?

The loveliness of this moment stirred his heart. Yet what made his heart stir with the most quiet joy was… what that blushing face represented. Thinking of it, his heart gave a quiet leap. He stepped forward, reached out to gently embrace the beautiful woman, and called her name softly, tenderly: “Xiyun…” He wished to draw her into his arms.

“Young Master’s grave injuries are not yet healed — it would be best to rest properly. Xiyun takes her leave.” Yet Xiyun reached out a hand and with extreme “gentleness” patted Lanxi’s left shoulder, causing him to inhale sharply between his teeth. His hand involuntarily released its hold. In an instant, the entire chamber’s mood of tender warmth and affectionate sweetness was shattered utterly.

“What possessed me to choose a woman like you?!” Lanxi rubbed his shoulder, murmuring to himself as he watched Xiyun depart with “refined and elegant” bearing.

“I was not chosen by you — you pestered me shamelessly until I agreed.” A thread of sound, thin as a mosquito’s whine, reached his ears with crystal clarity.

“This woman… ah…” Lanxi pressed a hand to his forehead and sighed at length. Yet in the depths of his heart, threads of sweet, tender joy were quietly seeping through.

Feng Wang Fengyu had eight brothers in total, of whom he was the seventh. Yet despite being born of a concubine and the last to come of age, he had ascended to the throne. By now he had reigned for thirty-nine years and was approaching sixty-eight years of age. Of all his brothers, the only one remaining was his full-blooded younger brother, the eighth, Xun’an Hou Feng Ning.

He had two queens, thirty-two consorts, and together they had borne him twenty-four children — ten princesses and fourteen princes.

His first queen had been Princess Yige, sent as a bride from the imperial capital, but she had died young, leaving behind only one son — who, after her death, had been named Shizi: Lanxi. Among all of Feng Wang’s children, Lanxi ranked twelfth; among the princes, he ranked third. Though not the eldest, he was the legitimate heir — his mother, a royal princess of the imperial family, held a position superior to all of Feng Wang’s consorts and could stand on equal footing even with Feng Wang himself. And so Lanxi’s appointment as Shizi had seemed perfectly natural and fitting in the minds of both court ministers and common people alike. Beyond this, he was not only exceptionally handsome and of remarkable intelligence, but was also gentle and humble in conduct, respectful toward the worthy and considerate of those beneath him. In his handling of affairs he was steady and decisive, wise and fair; he practiced benevolence and his virtue reached in all four directions, earning him deep affection from the people. In the eyes of Fengguo’s subjects, he had long been the only fitting choice to inherit the throne.

The second queen, Baili Xiansi, had been a great beauty presented as tribute by the King of Qi Sang when Feng Wang had launched a campaign of suppression against Qi Sang in former years. She had been deeply favored by Feng Wang, so much so that upon Princess Yige’s death, she had been immediately elevated to queen. Together she and Feng Wang had six children: the seventh princess, the ninth princess, and the fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh princes.

All the remaining princes and princesses had been born of consorts.

Since the day of the alliance ceremony when Feng Wang and Lanxi had been targeted by assassins, Feng Wang had issued a royal decree entrusting governance to his brother Xun’an Hou. The court’s surface appeared tranquil, yet beneath ran turbulent undercurrents. Xun’an Hou, however, held to his habitual style of neither taking one extra step, nor speaking one extra word, nor doing one extra thing. Each day he made only his routine visit to the Zhaoming Hall, listening to ministers report on affairs of state — yet invariably offering not a single word in response. When ministers pressed him urgently for an answer, he would produce one sentence: “None of you are newcomers. Just handle things the same way you always have.”

As for the three assassins who had survived and remained locked in the great prison beneath the sky prison — the people of Fengguo held their king and Shizi in deep affection and felt intense hatred toward those who had made the attempt on their lives. A collective petition had been submitted, demanding that the assassins be executed by slow dismemberment as a warning to others.

But Feng Wang had issued a decree commanding Xun’an Hou to handle the case rigorously — his intention clearly being to root out the masterminds behind the assassins in order to prevent future disasters.

Only… these masterminds were hardly easy to root out. And even if found — could they truly be rooted out? Every day upon returning to his residence, Xun’an Hou found himself troubled by exactly this question.

The handling of this case had proceeded with unexpected smoothness. He had thought those men of the rivers and lakes would rather die than yield — yet the moment interrogation began, though no information could be extracted from the assassins’ mouths, clues appeared to “fall” from the assassins themselves — clues that left even the assassins dumbfounded. Following those clues, step by step, all the circumstances and all the evidence emerged one by one with clarity, coming into his hands piece by piece. It was as though someone had arranged it all in advance, and he needed only to follow the footprints to arrive at the place where the answers were hidden.

To doubt that evidence and those answers was something he could not do. The state of affairs and the situation within Fengguo — he understood it all with perfect clarity. That things had come to this outcome was something he had long anticipated. Yet in the end, he still felt both shaken and chilled to the bone — shaken by what those people had done, and chilled by that person’s schemes and methods.

Yet was he truly to lift that curtain? Was he to let that answer appear before the eyes of all under heaven?

“Father, why do you sit here worrying?” A fine-featured young man in brocade clothing entered, looking at Xun’an Hou with a measure of concern. “These past days, whenever you return home, you always wear a troubled frown. Is there something in the court that is weighing on you?”

“Wei’er.” Xun’an Hou looked up at the new arrival and slightly smoothed his brow. “Why are you not in the study reading? What brings you here?”

“I have finished my lessons.” The young man was none other than Xun’an Hou’s youngest son, Feng Wei. “Father, is there something that is difficult to resolve? These past several days, the first young master and fourth young master have come to call on you, and you have always turned them away. If there is something troubling you, why not speak of it and let me share your burden?”

Hearing such bold words and watching his beloved son’s eager expression, Xun’an Hou could not help but feel some amusement.

“Wei’er, you are still too young. Court matters…”

“Court matters are too profound and too complicated!” Feng Wei interjected before his father could finish, an expression of indignation on his face. “Father, I am sixteen years old this year. I am no longer a child!”

Compared to his son’s agitation, Xun’an Hou was perfectly composed. He reached out and patted his beloved son’s shoulder, his gaze gentle and full of paternal tenderness. “Sixteen truly is no small age. Those two people, when they were sixteen, were already capable of single-handedly controlling…” But here he stopped himself. He affectionately stroked his son’s head. “Wei’er, what Father is about to say may not be what you wish to hear. But a few more years and you will understand. Court affairs… that position… are things not to be touched. Father’s only wish is that you live an unremarkable life — but at least a safe one.”

“Father, what are you saying? I don’t quite understand.” Feng Wei frowned.

Xun’an Hou only smiled. “Perhaps it is better that you do not. In this Fengguo of ours, there is no place for you to put your hand in.”

“Father, that simply will not do — I have made an agreement with Shizi Brother. Once he becomes king, I am going to be his great general! Leading a thousand armies and ten thousand horses to help him forge a peaceful and prosperous new age!” Feng Wei spoke while going through the motions of drawing a bow at an enemy and swinging a blade to cut someone down, his face alight with excitement.

“Shizi… he said this to you? He treats you with such…” Xun’an Hou looked at his beloved son with furrowed brow. “He…”

“Shizi Brother is so good to me — he taught me swordsmanship, archery and horsemanship, and even military strategy. And he is more…” He stole a careful glance at his father, saw him listening attentively, and seemed to take this as encouragement. Full of enthusiasm, he continued: “He is more capable and brilliant than any of the brothers at home! He knows and can do everything! There is nothing in this world that can stump him! And though he holds the high position of Shizi, he treats everyone with such warmth and courtesy… He even praised me, saying I am very intelligent and full of potential, and will surely become a pillar of the nation in the future! And he also said… I am the one who should truly be his brother!”

“He said you are the one who should truly be his brother?” Xun’an Hou looked at his son — that face full of admiration and pride, those eyes especially bright with excitement, filled with nothing but pure longing, clean and untainted by a single shadow or impurity. That person — that person whose schemes soared higher than the heavens itself — would treat his son with such warmth. Was it not precisely because of this clean heart and those pure, clear eyes?

“Yes.” Feng Wei nodded. “Father, I refuse to live an unremarkable life. I want to follow Shizi Brother and do great things. I want to leave a heroic name that will be passed down for a thousand generations!”

“Ha ha… ha ha…” Faced with his son’s grand words, Xun’an Hou burst into laughter — yet it was not laughter of mockery, only a kind of laugh that seemed at once somewhat joyful and somewhat sorrowful. “All right, all right. You shall do as you see fit. I will not live to see that day anyway.”

“Father, are you not pleased?” Feng Wei looked at his laughing father with puzzlement.

“How could I not be pleased — that you hold such great ambition, how could Father not be pleased?” Xun’an Hou patted his son, yet his gaze carried a vein of worried thought. “Only, his schemes and stratagems surpass even that person’s by a degree. You, my son…”

“Schemes? Whose? Are you speaking of Shizi Brother?” Feng Wei tilted his head to think it over. “How could that be? Shizi Brother is so good to everyone — how could he possibly be calculating against people? If you ask me, it is rather that Fourth Young Master…”

“Wei’er!” Xun’an Hou abruptly cut his son off. Seeing the slightly aggrieved expression on his son’s face, he could not help but sigh at length. “Enough. Father still has matters to attend to. You go… it would also be fine if you went to see your Shizi Brother.”

“Truly?” Feng Wei’s eyes lit up at once. “These past several days I have gone to Lanling Palace and they always refuse to let me see Shizi Brother — saying his injuries are extremely grave and he cannot receive visitors. I have been worrying so much!”

“You should be able to see him today. I hear that early this morning the Queen of Fengguo went to call on him.” Xun’an Hou glanced at his son, gave a wave of his hand.

“Oh? Then I am going!” With that, he turned and ran off.

Watching his son’s cheerful departing figure, Xun’an Hou furrowed his brow slightly. In the eyes of all under heaven, that person was truly so well regarded? Ah — such a person was truly formidable. And truly terrifying. Yet so be it. In this Fengguo of turbulent undercurrents, only that person could hold it all in check.

A splendid, ornate palanquin came to a stop before the Xianzhi Palace in the Feng Wang’s palace complex. All the palace attendants knew well enough — this meant the Fourth Young Master, Feng Zhi, had arrived. Within the entirety of Fengguo, only he held the privilege of being carried by palanquin into the palace. Only… when one saw his two legs, that envious admiration would fade. One would rather spend half a day’s time and the effort of one’s legs walking from outside the palace to inside — at least those legs could run freely.

Four palace attendants carefully supported Fourth Young Master Feng Zhi as he descended from the palanquin, then two attendants assisted him inside the Xianzhi Palace.

“Your son pays respects to the Queen Mother.”

“Zhi’er, quickly rise!” Queen Baili hurried forward in person to support her beloved son. “Your legs are not convenient — there is no need to bow. Would your mother truly begrudge you such empty formalities?”

“Your son knows Mother’s love. Only, I do not know how to repay the grace of my parents’ upbringing and nurturing — and so what others see as empty formalities is precisely my way of expressing my filial devotion.” Feng Zhi struggled laboriously to rise from the floor as he spoke.

“Ah, Mother understands your heart.” Queen Baili supported her beloved son and helped him sit down, lovingly rubbing her hands over his knees. “Zhi’er, how have your legs been lately? Are they still in pain?”

“Your son is very well and dares not trouble Mother with worry.” Feng Zhi bowed his head to reply, at the same time concealing the shadow of darkness that had flickered in his eyes.

“Ah, your legs are not convenient — there is no need to come to the palace to pay respects every day.” Queen Baili looked at her beloved son’s two misshapen legs, and a pang of pain shot through her heart. “Seeing you like this, Mother… Mother’s heart aches.” She could not help but raise her handkerchief to dab at the corners of her eyes.

“Mother, please do not worry yourself over me. Even with inconvenient legs, your son is no less than anyone else!” Feng Zhi hastened to comfort his mother and patted his own legs to show all was fine.

“Mm.” Queen Baili forced out a small smile, strained and effortful. “You… ah, Mother always feels she has wronged you.”

“Mother, let us speak of other things.” Feng Zhi shifted the conversation and glanced carefully at Queen Baili. “How are Father Wang’s injuries?”

“Ah, Mother does not know either.” Queen Baili frowned and sighed. “Since that day, the Huangji Palace has been sealed to everyone. Your father… ah, Mother has not managed to see him even now.”

“Oh?” A glint crossed Feng Zhi’s eyes. “What have the imperial physicians in the palace been saying?”

“Whoever you ask refuses to say anything — all of them claim it is by royal decree, that the king’s condition must not be disclosed, and that anyone who violates this will be put to death without mercy!” Queen Baili’s voice carried a thread of indignation. “They even conceal things from this palace!”

“Not even Mother knows?” Feng Zhi’s brow gave a twitch. “Then what of that person? Has Mother heard anything?”

“Him?” Queen Baili thought of those ink-black, fathomlessly deep eyes, thought of that gaze like the frigid tidal current of the northern sea — requiring no words, a single calm glance enough to send tremors through her entire body. She involuntarily tightened her grip on the handkerchief in her hand. “Mother does not know either. I have only heard that early this morning, the Queen of Fengguo came to see him. Everything else is sealed tight.”

“Is that so?” Feng Zhi’s brow chilled, his gaze dropping to his own two legs.

“Zhi’er, you… why this much concern?” Queen Baili looked at her son’s expression, and her heart tightened involuntarily. “You…”

“Mother.” Feng Zhi called out, and glanced around the room.

“All of you, withdraw.” Queen Baili instructed the attending palace attendants.

“Yes, Your Highness.” The palace attendants bowed and withdrew.

“Zhi’er, there is no one now. Whatever you have to say, tell Mother.”

“Mother, I ask you to pay a visit to Xun’an Hou’s residence.” Feng Zhi suddenly raised his head, a frightening brightness in his eyes.

“Go to Xun’an Hou’s residence? What for?” Queen Baili could not help but feel puzzled.

“Your son needs you to use your position as the mother of the nation to apply pressure on him!” Feng Zhi’s voice seemed to force its way through clenched teeth.

“Apply pressure on him?” Queen Baili repeated the question — and then a thought leapt into her mind, sending a cold shudder through her body. “Could it be… could it be that you… that day… you…”

“Mother.” Feng Zhi gripped his mother’s hands and lowered his voice. “Yes. That is exactly what your son did. None of this can be blamed on your son! On what grounds does he get to sit upon the throne?! Your son is also a legitimate heir — moreover, Mother is the current queen of this kingdom, and it is your son who should naturally inherit the throne! Back then… back then, had it not been for him, would your son have ended up as I am today?” Feng Zhi lowered his head to look at his own two bent and deformed legs, his voice carrying a bone-deep hatred. “Your son hates him to death! As long as your son draws breath, I will never allow him to ascend to that position — as long as your son has a single breath in his body, I will repay this deep enmity!” That tone carried such venomous hatred, those eyes were as malicious as a snake’s, as though the enemy he gazed upon were right before him, as though consuming that person alive and raw would still not be revenge enough.

“Zhi’er, you… you…” Queen Baili was both shocked and frightened. “Don’t you know what kind of person he is? How could you be so reckless?!”

“Mother!” Feng Zhi cried out with both urgency and force. “Now is not the time to reproach your son. You must save me this once!” He dropped to his knees in one motion, the awkwardness of his legs making him grimace. “If this matter is exposed, not only will your son’s life be forfeit — even First Brother, Second Brother, Fifth Brother, Sixth Brother, and Seventh Brother will none of them be able to escape implication. When that time comes…”

“What? Even your three younger brothers… they too…” Queen Baili was past shock and fright now — she was trembling with terror. “How could you… how could you… all these years, how could Mother not know that he cannot be allowed to remain? But… how many times have we tried, and how many times have we succeeded? That person… is terrifyingly like a demon!”

“Mother, this was bound to happen sooner or later! Surely you know — how many people have coveted that position?!” Feng Zhi raised his head, the light in his eyes flaring like ghost-fire. “All seventeen of the assassins that day were engaged by First Brother. The separate killers I engaged somehow failed to arrive on the day — and when I later sent people to search for them, they were all found dead on the road. Your son suspects that he had already seen through our plan and sent people ahead of time to kill those hired hands. Your son… had not anticipated falling into his trap in return! Those seventeen assassins that day were subdued by him and Feng Wang together, and three of them were left alive. Now… your son has learned that Royal Uncle has already found clues from the assassins. My visits to Royal Uncle with First Brother have both times been refused at the door. I believe he has already gathered some intelligence… Those assassins have no connection to your son, but they have a connection to First Brother — and First Brother, if he… he will certainly drag your son down with him when that time comes! Then… Mother, you must save your son!”

“Zhi’er, get up first!” Queen Baili lifted Feng Zhi to his feet, her tone laden with reproach. “It is understandable that you would want to kill him — but you… how could you not even spare your own father… not even spare your father!”

“Mother! If Father later learns the truth, do you truly believe his heart will still be inclined toward us?” Feng Zhi stood up, his gaze as sharp as a needle, fixed intently on his mother. “Since it has been done, let it be done cleanly. This Fengguo belongs to the two of us — mother and son!”

“If your father were to find out…” Queen Baili gave a sudden shudder. Her thoughts drifted unbidden back to a long time ago — when he had been unreservedly devoted to her. Yet now… she was no longer young, no longer the beauty who had once outshone all others in her prime. He…

“But… now… will Xun’an Hou even listen to what this palace says?” Queen Baili said with some unease. That Xun’an Hou was famously slippery.

“I had originally intended to send someone… but each attempt has ended in failure! He must have secretly deployed people to protect Royal Uncle. He intends to use Royal Uncle’s hand to bring us down! So, Mother — whether by force or persuasion, you must not allow Royal Uncle to report the truth to Father!” Feng Zhi said. “We who are his nephews are his juniors, so he can ignore us. But you are the queen mother — your position is above his. He must listen to your words!”

“Very well — Mother will go to him!” Queen Baili suddenly grew calm, speaking in a firm, low voice. “For my son’s sake, no matter what I must do, I will make Xun’an Hou keep his mouth shut!” A cold, knife-like glint suddenly flashed in those eyes.

Yet Queen Baili was too late. When she arrived at Xun’an Hou’s residence in haste, those in the residence told her that the lord had already entered the palace. When she hurried back to the palace in pursuit, she was told that the lord had already entered the Huangji Palace.

He had entered the Huangji Palace? Since the day Feng Wang was wounded and returned to the palace, the Huangji Palace had been sealed to all but the imperial physicians — yet now Xun’an Hou had been allowed inside. Then… it was already too late for everything. In that moment, a wave of despair descended from the heavens and engulfed her. Thinking of that person’s methods, thinking of what this meant… Queen Baili fell into complete and utter despair.

In the eighteenth year of the Ren reign, what shook the entire nation of Fengguo to its core was not the marriage alliance between Shizi and the Queen of Fengguo — it was the case of multiple princes hiring assassins to attempt the lives of the king and Shizi.

At the end of the fourth month, Feng Wang issued a royal decree: First Prince Feng Jiao, Second Prince Feng Rao, Fourth Prince Feng Zhi, Fifth Prince Feng Ju, Sixth Prince Feng Ting, and Seventh Prince Feng Jiang — consumed by greed and driven to utter madness, they had conspired together to hire assassins to attempt my life and that of Shizi in order to seize the throne! Such conduct is beneath even what beasts would do! Such heartless acts cause me grief and anguish to the depths of my bones! Though I grieve, their actions cannot be permitted by royal law, are intolerable by reason and righteousness, and heaven and earth will not shelter them! It is with great pain that I hereby decree: First Prince Feng Jiao and Fourth Prince Feng Zhi shall be beheaded in accordance with the law. Second Prince Feng Rao, Fifth Prince Feng Ju, Sixth Prince Feng Ting, and Seventh Prince Feng Jiang shall be granted the white silk.

On the day the royal decree was issued, Jiu Wei was gathering those snow-like orchid blossoms, planning to use their fragrance to steam a dish of crystal cakes for Xiyun to taste.

“Is this what he wanted?” Jiu Wei looked at the half-filled basket of snow orchid petals, and his interest in continuing suddenly vanished. His fingertips idly turned over the petals, and his gaze, carrying a trace of worry, fell upon Xiyun sitting before the flowers. Was someone like that — was he suitable for Feng Xi?

Xiyun plucked a single orchid blossom, spread it in her palm, and lowered her head to breathe in that thread of clean fragrance. She let out a faint sigh. “How pure, how fragrant this orchid is.”

“So many brothers joining hands to take his life — the way he handled things seems not without justification. Only…” Jiu Wei glanced at Xiyun among the snow orchids. That white robe was as bright as pure snow; she sat within the flowers, almost merging with them into a single whole, gazing blankly at the blossom in her palm, her thoughts somewhat adrift. Silently sighing, he drew near her. “Feng Xi, someone like that — you… ah…” The words in the end remained unspoken. There was no desire to say them, and they could not be said. After all, how things would unfold was entirely for her to decide.

“The eldest by birth, the other legitimate — had both the king and Shizi died, they each imagined it would surely be themselves who ascended to the throne!” Xiyun blew the snow orchid from her palm and raised her head to look toward the sky. The sky hung heavy and overcast, appearing particularly low. The sun hid behind thick layers of cloud and would not show its face. “Only they… how could they be any match for him!”

“To execute six sons all at once — this Feng Wang is quite ruthless indeed!” Jiu Wei sighed. “The Hei Fengguo — truly living up to its name!”

“If not ruthless, how could one hold sway over Fengguo for forty years? Besides… if one cannot be ruthless, then regarding the other sons — given his habitual way of doing things, he would have swept them all in one net. Feng Wang… has actually done all he could. After all, he still managed to spare a few!” Xiyun closed her eyes.

“So the ‘cleanliness’ he wanted turns out to be exactly this kind of cleanliness!” After a pause, Jiu Wei finally spoke, lowering his gaze to the flower basket. “Who in the future would still dare covet this throne? He can ascend to it in perfect security!”

Xiyun opened her eyes, curling her lips in a faint smile — yet that smile was merely the expression of a smile, carrying not a trace of emotion. “Jiu Wei, that is only one part of it. The most important thing is that he wanted his own hands to remain completely clean as well!” Her gaze came to rest on Jiu Wei’s face — that calm, composed face, those eyes dark enough to carry a trace of blue, that gleam of quick intelligence quietly present between his brows. He should never have been drawn into any of this. Yet because of herself, he in the future… he must never be allowed to suffer any harm. No matter who might pose a threat — not a single person would be permitted.

“His hands must remain clean as well?” Jiu Wei’s brow creased and then gave a sudden jolt. His hands nearly lost their grip on the flower basket. “So that is it! Using Feng Wang’s hand to remove all obstacles — even if Feng Wang recovers from these grave injuries, he will still be… This way, the entirety of Fengguo is truly and completely in his grasp! And throughout Fengguo, who is not moved by his selfless courage in shielding his father with his own body — who does not feel pain and indignation at the treachery of his own kin? He planned and orchestrated everything, yet he also manages to earn the sympathy and support of all under heaven!” In this moment, though he could not say he admired that person, he could not but feel a kind of involuntary respect. Every matter, every person — not one overlooked, all held securely in hand. Such a person, thankfully, was rare in this world.

“Feng Xi, in all this world, perhaps only he can ride alongside you as an equal!”

Yet Xiyun stared blankly at the expanse of orchids before her, and only after a long while did she say in a level tone: “Jiu Wei, you have surely never encountered anyone like him. He could commit every manner of wrongdoing — and yet all under heaven would still believe him to be a person of benevolence! And so someone like him is best suited to be an emperor, because he will inevitably be the one the hearts of the people turn toward.”

“And so no matter what, you will help him claim this world?” Jiu Wei looked at her as he asked.

“Yes. No matter what, I will help him.” Xiyun raised her hand to cover her brow. Her palm rested against the cold, curved arc of the snow-jade moon. Her fingertips gently folded over her eyes, shielding everything within her gaze from sight.

“A new world?” Jiu Wei raised his head and looked at the sky. In his eyes was something that seemed like anticipation, and something that seemed like quiet worry.