Faced with matters of state, she wouldn’t joke with the Eastern Palace Crown Prince’s reputation.

“Demanding gold, silver, power, and hostages too—I think it’s you who lack sincerity in these negotiations!”

A sudden cold snort came. Zhao Yān looked toward the sound and saw a young man in fitted clothes sitting nearby.

The Marquis of Jinping at his side coughed with a clenched fist, signaling him to be quiet.

The young man ignored this. Zhao Yān couldn’t help but give him a second glance.

He appeared to be eighteen or nineteen, with an imposing presence. There was only a small old scar on his left eyebrow that created a break, making him look somewhat fierce. Yet he was the only person in the great hall brave enough to speak out directly.

The young man said sternly, “If we’re talking about noble status, why not choose Prince Yong or Prince Su for negotiations? It’s merely because your intentions are malicious—bullying the weak and fearing the strong!”

“My father’s interests lie in landscapes, with neither power nor influence. He cannot shoulder such a heavy responsibility.”

Zhao Yuan’yu smiled insincerely, diverting trouble elsewhere. “Having Prince Su escort the Crown Prince would be a good idea.”

By the side door of the hall, Zhang Cang’s temples throbbed wildly upon hearing these words.

…

…

He secretly glanced at his master beside him. Cold light stretched obliquely from outside the door. Wenren Lin stood hidden in the shadows, his face expressionless.

From the hall came the Crown Prince’s weak but clear voice.

Under the gaze of all officials, Zhao Yān stood up, bowed to the Emperor, and said, “It’s not that I fear death, but everyone at court knows I suffer from weakness. If something were to happen to me during the pacification journey, would the blame fall on Prince Su’s head or the Governor of Liang’s?”

If the Crown Prince met with an accident during the pacification mission, not only could Prince Yong’s household be logically elevated, but Prince Su and the Governor of Liang could also be framed and brought down together.

After all, one controlled the court and the other terrorized a region—both were extremely unfavorable to Prince Yong’s household. As long as they lived, they remained like thorns in their backs.

Having his schemes exposed publicly, Zhao Yuan’yu maintained his composure, though inwardly he gnashed his teeth.

This damned weakling! Previously, out of face, the Crown Prince would pretend to yield to him, but now he dared to embarrass him directly in front of the court officials. He was becoming increasingly capable!

The Judge from Liang, with his weasel brows and rat eyes, smiled awkwardly: “The Crown Prince worries too much. If the Governor sees the Crown Prince personally visit, he would certainly welcome him with great respect. How could he allow the Crown Prince to face danger?”

“Not long ago, I merely secluded myself to recuperate for a few days, yet rumors ran rampant, disturbing our national foundation. Where does the Judge from Liang get the audacity to overstep his authority and make such guarantees?”

Zhao Yān’s frame was delicate as she looked toward Zhao Yuan’yu opposite her. “If someone with ulterior motives were to make a big issue of my death, not only would they slander loyal ministers accompanying me, but they would also incite discord between the court and the Sichuan region in Liang. Today’s negotiations would be ruined. Is this what the Young Master wishes to see?”

Hearing the words “loyal ministers,” Wenren Lin snorted with laughter.

It had been a long time since anyone had described him this way. It sounded quite ironic.

Having watched enough of the drama, he instructed the Chief Eunuch, who was waiting for orders nearby: “Go inform His Majesty that I have prepared the punishment rods outside the hall.”

Without waiting for the eunuch’s response, he turned and left.

The Chief Eunuch bowed and whispered Wenren Lin’s message to the Emperor, who maintained a divine face revealing neither joy nor anger, and looked toward the Judge from Liang.

The Chief Eunuch beside him kept his eyes properly lowered, immediately understanding the imperial intention.

He casually approached the Judge from Liang, who was speaking forcefully, and put on a kindly smile: “Judge, His Majesty wishes to have a word with you in private.”

The Judge from Liang, thinking his suggestion had been accepted and that the Emperor wanted to bestow rewards, was greatly pleased. He repeatedly smiled obsequiously and agreed.

Outside the hall, he saw a beautiful man in a jade belt and red robe sitting in a round-backed armchair beside white jade railings. Even the most skilled painter could hardly capture a fraction of his elegance.

Beside him was a long bench, a coarse rope, and four imperial guards holding punishment rods.

The Judge from Liang recognized this face. His rat-like eyes, which had been smiling into slits, suddenly widened as he stood bewildered.

Two guards seized him from either side, stripped off his official robe, pressed him face down on the long bench, and when he tried to struggle up, his hands and feet were bound with rope.

“Your Majesty! Why does Your Majesty treat this subject so… mmph!”

Soon, the dull sound of punishment rods striking flesh was heard outside the hall, along with muffled screams caught in the throat.

Those screams were infinitely amplified in the silent great hall, leaving everyone looking at each other in disbelief.

It was at this moment that Wenren Lin appeared against the light. Though his gait was casual, each step seemed to tread on everyone’s hearts, carrying considerable intimidating pressure.

“The Judge from Liang has failed in his supervisory duties, attempting to sow discord between His Majesty and Liang, placing the court in danger. His intentions are punishable by death. By His Majesty’s command, I administer sixty strokes as a warning to others.”

He spoke with a smile, and if not for the pig-like screams outside the hall, it would have been a pleasing scene to behold.

“What is the meaning of this! Killing the chicken to warn the monkey—is this how the court treats its guests?”

He Hu smashed the table with his fist, creating a thunderous noise.

As expected of a reckless warrior, he could not fathom the Emperor’s thoughts.

The man on the dragon throne had been a ruthless monarch who emerged from among eleven princes in his youth. No matter how much he now sought immortality and questioned the Dao, he would never allow imperial authority to be trampled. Pacification would proceed, but it would never be the court kneeling to pacify.

Zhao Yān understood clearly that the Judge from Liang, this fence-sitter who served two masters, was the perfect sacrificial pawn.

The sixty strokes falling on him also fell on the hearts of every official present: favor comes from the Emperor’s bestowal, not from seizing it. Should anyone else choose the wrong side, the Judge of Liang’s fate would be theirs.

But He Hu, illiterate in these imperial tactics, naturally didn’t understand.

He only knew that when trapped in enemy territory and facing danger, one instinctively looks for a hostage as a shield, making others hesitate to act.

So his fierce gaze fell on the Great Xuan’s Crown Prince, who appeared to be the most valuable and easiest to capture.

Just as He Hu was about to rise, he felt a heavy pressure on his shoulder.

“The banquet isn’t over yet. General He, why not sit down to talk?”

Wenren Lin had somehow appeared behind him. He Hu, who prided himself on never removing his armor and being alert, hadn’t sensed his presence at all.

Wenren Lin pressed a single hand on his shoulder, his long, jade-like knuckles turning frost-white, with tendons visibly prominent on the back of his hand.

To others, it seemed Prince Su was merely giving He Hu a friendly greeting. But Zhao Yān was close enough to see clearly: Wenren Lin had restrained the murderous He Hu with just one hand. What terrifying strength!

He Hu reluctantly relaxed, and only then did Wenren Lin release his grip. He pulled a plain white handkerchief from his sleeve to wipe his hand while walking to his position.

His dining table was to Zhao Yān’s right, at the place closest to the Emperor.

Zhao Yān fixed her gaze on the wine cup before her, even able to smell the faint woody incense from his body.

The wailing outside the hall diminished from its peak, and soon even occasional moans could no longer be heard.

The Deputy Minister of the Court of State Ceremonial turned pale, and Zhao Yuan’yu also became visibly restless, continuously drinking tea to calm himself.

Sixty punitive rods didn’t sound like many, but over the years, how many remonstrating officials had they seen die under the rod?

Twenty strokes split open skin and flesh, forty broke bones and tendons, and sixty… whether one could survive remained unknown.

Amidst the thudding of rods, the Emperor’s voice was exceptionally calm: “The Governor of Liang administers the various lands of Sichuan, and by lineage is the ninth-generation grandson of Emperor Taizong, my cousin. Having cleared out bandits along the way and achieved great merit, I shall enfeoff him as Prince of Shu, bestow ten thousand taels of gold, dozens of beautiful maids and dancing girls, and allow his family to guard the thousand li of the southwest for generations. From now on, he shall withdraw his troops to Liang Prefecture to enjoy his later years. How does that sound?”

This tactic of intimidation followed by favor was perfectly executed, yet Zhao Yān found it desolate and laughable.

But strip away the splendid robes of imperial power, and wasn’t the core itself tottering and full of wounds?

Loyal ministers buried in foreign lands, while state-stealing thieves were enfeoffed as princes and marquises—it was utterly absurd. Now she understood somewhat the helplessness and weakness Zhao Yǎn felt sitting in the position of Crown Prince.

When Zhao Yān left her seat, the Judge from Liang, stripped of his official robes, was still bound to the punishment bench for public display. From his back to his buttocks was a mass of mangled flesh, his head hanging down lifelessly, with viscous, dark blood continuously seeping from his mouth and nose.

In this state, he was mostly useless.

Banquet attendees passed before him one after another, taking warning, not daring to look directly.

The steps had already been washed by attendants, but Zhao Yān could still smell the mixture of fresh blood and soiled self in the air—a nauseating odor.

Wenren Lin said something, and the guards stepped forward to untie the coarse ropes, dragging the Judge from Liang away.

His lips were lightly pressed together, without his usual inscrutable smile. This gave Zhao Yān a strange sense that he extremely disliked the smell of blood…

What a terrifying misconception—that a man who creates slaughter would dislike the smell of blood?

Lost in these thoughts, Wenren Lin, as if having eyes in the back of his head, turned to look at her.

Zhao Yān instinctively averted her gaze, gathered her sleeves to perform a student’s bow to him, then descended the white jade steps with a stiff neck.

The cold wind swept by, lifting a corner of her fox fur cape, lightly brushing over Wenren Lin’s clean black boots.

Tsk, so afraid?

His Highness Prince Su gazed at the almost panicked silhouette of the little Crown Prince, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully.

Zhao Yān indeed could not see through Wenren Lin.

His hands were long and clean; yesterday they were holding scrolls and playing chess, today they could take lives. Though the Judge from Liang certainly brought it upon himself, how could Zhao Yān, harboring such a great secret, not feel dread?

All people have instincts to seek advantage and avoid harm. She could not predict on whose neck Wenren Lin’s hands would fall next.

Holding a small hand warmer, Zhao Yān tried hard to drive Wenren Lin’s hateful face from her mind and asked Liu Ying: “How is Liu Ji doing recently?”

Liu Ying shook her head: “Her eating and sleeping patterns are normal, with no other movements.”

“Whatever requests she makes, try to satisfy them as long as they’re not excessive. Treat her as the Crown Prince did before, and do not neglect her.”

“This servant understands.”

“By the way.”

Remembering another important matter, Zhao Yān habitually supported her chin and asked, “Who was that young man who spoke up for me at the banquet? The one sitting three places to my left.”

Liu Ying also had a deep impression of that young man and answered: “In reply to Your Highness, it was the Marquis of Jinping’s heir, Pei Sa.”

The Marquis of Jinping—Zhao Yān had some impression.

He came from a noble family like Wei of the Marquis of Ningyang, but in recent years, with Wenren Lin’s overwhelming power, his prominence had been suppressed.

Despite this, the Marquis of Jinping had a sworn brother—Princess Shoukang’s consort, Huo Feng, General Huo.

Thus, although the Marquis of Jinping had retired from his post, he still held some prestige in the military and had never aligned with any faction.

The heir Pei Sa wasn’t much older than herself, and dared to speak out directly when seeing injustice—someone who could be useful.

Zhao Yān made up her mind and said clearly: “Tell Mother that I want Pei Sa as my study companion.”

That night, news came from the palace.

Wenren Lin personally led a team of guards and imperial officials out of the city at night, heading to the Sichuan rebel party stationed outside the western capital to deliver the imperial will for pacification and troop withdrawal.

Zhao Yān thought that dealing with rebels like the Governor of Liang would take Wenren Lin at least ten days to half a month to return, possibly missing the classes at Chongwen Hall after the rest period.

She secretly rejoiced until the next day, when the small eunuch who attended the ink took her to the small training ground behind Chongwen Hall. There she saw Wenren Lin sitting in a round-backed armchair, polishing a bow and arrow. It was like a bucket of cold water poured over her head—the heavens were not listening.

How did this man return so quickly? Did he grow wings?

Zhao Yān resigned herself to bowing. As she bent forward, she smelled a very faint scent of medicine for wounds in the air.

Before she could investigate further, she saw Wenren Lin, without even looking up, pointing to various crossbows and arrows on a weapons rack to the side, saying indifferently: “Please select one that suits you, Crown Prince.”

The bowstrings were sharp, the arrows cold and piercing—each item emanated a heavy, intimidating aura.

Zhao Yān couldn’t guess what new torment Wenren Lin was devising. She swallowed and asked: “Today… aren’t we playing chess?”

“Military strategy, chess, horseback archery—we alternate to avoid boredom,” Wenren Lin replied.

Just as Zhao Yān was about to speak, Wenren Lin, as if seeing through her soul, tapped his finger on two black porcelain medicine bottles on the table.

“This Prince specially requested two bottles of Rejuvenation Pills from Physician Sun. Not just for a small fainting spell—even with one foot in the underworld, they could pull you back.”

He lowered his eyes and slightly curved his lips, adding, “The Crown Prince need not worry, there’s plenty of medicine.”

Zhao Yān clenched her fists in anger, her liver aching.

She went to select a large bow, her slender fingers tentatively stroking the bowstring, when she heard Wenren Lin say from behind: “The Crown Prince is at an age of restlessness, recently not very well-behaved. Learning some self-defense skills would be good.”

Zhao Yān’s fingertips trembled. After swallowing with difficulty, she casually asked: “What does the Grand Tutor mean by this?”

She pretended to seriously select a bow, but in truth hadn’t even seen clearly what the weapons looked like. Her heart pounded wildly, as if facing a great enemy.

Wenren Lin’s voice revealed no emotion: “This Prince has said before, seeing too clearly is not necessarily a good thing. Stand in the wrong position, and you block others’ paths.”

Zhao Yān thought of the blood splashing under Changqing Gate, of the Judge from Liang beaten to a bloody pulp, and of her brother’s sudden death… Suppressed emotions surged forth, and she finally asked:

“If I were to block Prince Su’s path, what would happen?”

“…”

No response came from behind for a long time.

She could only pretend to be calm as she chose the smallest and lightest bow, took a deep breath, and turned around, saying: “I have chosen…”

A cold light flashed, a gust of wind hit her face, and a chilling feathered arrow was already at her eyes.

Wenren Lin had one hand behind his back, the other gripping the arrow shaft, with the arrowhead just an inch from her nose.

Her heart stopped.

In Zhao Yān’s suddenly contracted pupils was reflected Wenren Lin’s flawless countenance was reflected. She thought he was going to kill her.

However, he merely laughed lightly, turned his fingertip, and reversed the arrow’s direction—the sharp arrowhead now pointing toward himself, the harmless feathered end toward Zhao Yān.

“That depends on which path of mine the Crown Prince is blocking.”

With that, Wenren Lin placed the arrow he had personally sharpened into Zhao Yān’s cold palm.

Seeing the young boy still frozen, a light smile of success spread in his eyes as he said gently, “Be obedient.”