Since returning from the Ningyang Marquis’s mansion on the day of the Double Ninth Festival, Zhao Yān had repeatedly analyzed everything on paper until all doubts pointed to Wei Yan himself. The cruelty of reality and the warmth of memories were severed by a knife’s edge, and the tug-of-war between emotion and reason had plunged her into momentary confusion.

Even today, upon seeing the bereaved families of soldiers kneeling silently in mourning clothes outside Shunyi Gate, Zhao Yān still felt a pang of pain at having a close relative as an enemy.

But now, this pain seemed so laughable.

Just for one sentence, scholars about to enter official service through the imperial examinations had died, Zhao Yǎn had died, and she could only walk in the darkness of night disguised as her brother.

Zhao Yān’s eyes reddened as she said bleakly: “When Uncle harmed his nephew whom he had personally raised, and then framed his niece, did you feel even a moment of struggle or regret?”

Wei Yan was silent for a moment, his slightly gaunt face still refined and elegant.

“Yue and I truly did love you siblings very much.”

He answered without any hesitation, “That child was good in every way—gentle, kind, but too trusting of others. I don’t know exactly who made the Crown Prince suspicious about the Yanluo Pass incident, but I can be certain that if I were discovered as the mastermind, not only would I become infamous and die in disgrace, but half the noble families in court connected to me would also be implicated and fall. Then the Crown Prince could naturally install his people in court and implement new policies… So, I had no choice.”

“It’s not that you had no choice, but that you were already on the wrong path and unwilling to take the correct one.”

Zhao Yān interrupted him, her reddened eyes clear.

…

…

For a moment, Wei Yan found it difficult to meet her gaze directly, lowering his eyes as he said: “Yes. Reaching this point, what I feared was not failure, but loss.”

Having endured cold treatment in his youth, he became extremely skilled at gauging people’s hearts, able to present a perfect smile at any time or place.

Yet heaven did not favor him despite his diligence and amiability. Rong Fuyue became engaged to Wenren Cang, a talented young man. Meanwhile, he remained in an awkward position of little importance among the powerful and wealthy until his patience finally gave way to resentment and obsession.

When he killed Wenren Cang back then, there was indeed an element of gambling involved, and fortunately, his gamble paid off.

The Ningyang Marquis’s mansion received great recognition, and his reputation soared. He gained wealth and prestige, married the woman he admired, and enjoyed eight years of stable life—until Zhao Yǎn’s careless words instantly brought him back to square one.

If the conspiracy of the past were exposed, everything he now possessed, even his life, would vanish like bubbles.

He couldn’t bear to part with that child, but compared to everything he now possessed, that child’s life didn’t seem so important anymore.

Wei Yan spent a night sitting quietly, then made his decision.

The Crown Prince was to leave the palace for summer retreat, and the Prince Yong’s heir was impetuous and rash, having coveted the position of Crown Prince for a long time—he was the perfect pawn. He had planted an advisor beside Zhao Yuan’yu, and with just a few words, Zhao Yuan’yu eagerly prepared an assassination attempt on the return journey.

But the one who was to be assassinated on the return journey was only the Crown Prince’s “shadow.”

When Zhao Yǎn returned to the Eastern Palace, he would certainly be more cautious.

So, Wei Yan had to act personally.

That child had specifically visited Huayang before returning to the palace. Wei Yan knew the deep affection between the siblings, so he forged a letter in Zhao Yān’s handwriting—

This was the only method he could think of that would not put the Crown Prince on guard. That child always blindly trusted his blood relatives.

This should have been a perfect plan, but unexpectedly, after the Eastern Palace was closed for nearly a hundred days, the Crown Prince appeared safely.

The slender, frail young man, gasping every three steps and coughing every five, looked extremely weak. Wei Yan couldn’t immediately determine whether the Crown Prince had survived a brush with death after being poisoned or if there was some other hidden situation.

He observed for a long time, but fortunately, the Crown Prince’s wings were clipped, falling into Wenren Lin’s hands and barely able to take care of himself, with no energy to dwell on the truth of the Battle of Yanluo Pass years ago. This was fine; as long as the Crown Prince behaved, he wouldn’t need to risk taking action again.

But then Wenren Lin and the Eastern Palace stood together, followed by the collapse of Xingzhi Observatory, and the Crown Prince discovered Priest Shen Guang’s ledger.

That ledger recorded not only the heart-nourishing pills he sought for Yue but also a poisonous incense. If the Crown Prince discovered the clues and revealed something to Wenren Lin, all his plans would be exposed.

Wei Yan sighed deeply and said, “Wenren Lin is no longer that sixteen-year-old orphan boy. Now, he is someone even the Ningyang Marquis’s mansion fears. How could I be at ease with the Crown Prince growing close to him?”

So, after the failed assassination following the Empress’s birthday banquet, he changed his interim plan.

Unable to silence the Crown Prince, he simply directed all clues toward a scapegoat who would bear all the blame.

Wei Yan knew the Crown Prince was no longer the same, being exceptionally intelligent. Keeping the assassin alive and deliberately spreading rumors was certainly meant to lure the true mastermind into a trap.

Wei Yan turned this to his advantage by sending someone to infiltrate the prison and kill the assassin to silence him, then deliberately creating a roundabout path to contact the alchemist in Prince Yong’s mansion.

Then, during the Ghost Festival, he had someone secretly send a message to Prince Yong, saying that Zhao Yuan’yu had died under the Crown Prince’s private punishment, then fabricated some plausible evidence pointing to the Eastern Palace as the culprit behind Zhao Yuan’yu’s refining of the “supreme secret medicine”—being skilled at imitating handwriting, forging some letters wasn’t too difficult.

Zhao Yān now understood all the intricate details: “So at my birthday banquet, Uncle pretended to lose a palace entry token, actually to attract the attention of those present, giving the assassinating eunuch a signal to smoothly implicate Prince Yong. The poison in Prince Yong’s mansion was planted by you, and that alchemist was also arranged by you, all to make me believe Prince Yong was the mastermind behind everything.”

“Correct. Originally, all grievances should have ended there. Unfortunately, you were too astute.”

Wei Yan looked at Zhao Yān as if seeing through everything, “When I taught you siblings in your early years, I always felt you were more flexible and adaptable than your brother.”

The prison guard stood far away, and Wei Yan’s voice was very soft, yet Zhao Yān’s pupils still trembled slightly.

He had figured it out.

“It seems you’ve seen much in Huayang over these years, and Wenren Lin has taught you well.”

Wei Yan tilted his head slightly, smiling calmly, “Isn’t that right, Princess Changfeng?”

“What are you talking about?” Zhao Yān coldly met his gaze.

“Only at this moment do I dare to be completely certain of your identity. That child was too kind-hearted; he wouldn’t calculate human hearts, nor would he reveal such expressions. Even if he knew I was the true mastermind, he wouldn’t be angry, only compassionate.”

So he died.

This world has no place for purely good people.

Zhao Yān met Wei Yan’s gaze, her face expressionless, while her fingers inside her sleeve gripped tighter and tighter.

She didn’t want her identity revealed at this moment, especially since Wei Yan was a dying man. It was hard to say whether he would use this to create a big issue, bringing everyone down with him.

“Do you want to kill me to silence me? There’s still time.”

Wei Yan precisely seized upon Zhao Yān’s momentary hesitation, “But in doing so, you would be making the same choice I made years ago.”

There it was again, that pressing feeling of being looked down upon from above, completely exposed.

Zhao Yān knew what Wei Yan was aiming for.

If she were provoked to anger, not only would he die easily, but he could also drag her into the blood-soaked abyss with him.

Killing to protect a secret was no different from what Wei Yan had done years ago. But if she didn’t kill, the knife would hang over her head, making it impossible to rest easy.

“When one’s secret is about to be exposed, even a gentleman will do anything to maintain the lie, even self-destruction.”

He sat down again, like a refined scholar resting by a stream, and smiled, “You see, people aren’t born this way.”

“What are you trying to prove? That everyone makes the same choices as you when facing a crisis, or that your repeated killings were right, inevitable actions?”

Zhao Yān looked down at Wei Yan sitting in a streak of cold light and said softly, “I will never become a second Wei Yan.”

Wei Yan was somewhat surprised.

“You think you’re the only one who can calculate human hearts? Uncle is now a discarded piece, and the words of a discarded piece are naturally worthless.”

Zhao Yān slightly raised her chin, speaking each word deliberately, “I am the Crown Prince, the moth that flies toward the lamp. Rather than wasting your efforts trying to get information, why not save your energy to polish that short flute?”

Wei Yan’s smile faded, his gaze passing over the bamboo flute on the table.

Zhao Yān had gotten the answer she wanted and turned to leave.

As she climbed the stone steps, the sound of chains came from behind, and Wei Yan’s light voice reached her: “Wenren Lin waited seven or eight years before making his move. Does Your Highness know why?”

Zhao Yān’s footsteps paused as she heard Wei Yan sigh softly: “Continuing down this path will only lead to inevitable defeat.”

Zhao Yān clenched her fist but didn’t look back.

Leaving the prison, sunlight poured down, dispelling the bone-chilling cold that had permeated her body.

The Gate Official was saying something to the Minister of Justice, who seemed impatient but controlled his temper, saying: “My prison isn’t a vegetable market; not just anyone can enter.”

Zhao Yān gathered her fox-fur cloak around her, exhaled slowly, composed herself, and asked: “What’s happening?”

“Ah, Crown Prince!”

The Minister of Justice bowed deeply, hurriedly explaining, “I wasn’t referring to you, but to the Ningyang Marquis… no, to Lady Rong who has come to visit the prisoner.”

Aunt?

Zhao Yān was surprised, her feelings complex: Wasn’t the Ningyang Marquis’s mansion sealed? All relatives and servants were awaiting judgment. How did she get out?

The Minister of Justice gauged Zhao Yān’s expression and asked for instructions: “Although His Majesty has compassion for prisoners and allows relatives to visit, Wei Yan’s crimes are extremely serious, and with so many bereaved families watching outside, this subject doesn’t dare…”

Before he could finish, there was a commotion outside Shunyi Gate.

What Zhao Yān feared most was happening. Without waiting to hear the Minister of Justice’s request for instructions, she strode toward the main gate into the wind.

Rong Fuyue was carrying a food box as she alighted from her carriage. The biting wind blew back the hood of her cloak, revealing her pale, haggard face.

In just a few days, her figure had become so thin that she resembled a reed that might break at any moment.

Her maid quickly put her hood back on, but with so many bereaved families kneeling at Shunyi Gate, along with scholars who had come to write in support, someone soon recognized her.

“It’s her! Rong Fuyue!”

A clear and angry voice came from the crowd, “Everyone, look! This woman is the wife of that treacherous Wei official!”

Like a stone thrown into water, many people turned their heads at the sound.

“Birds of a feather! Wei Yan’s woman can’t be any good either!”

“Exactly! The clothes she wears, the carriage she rides—which one wasn’t obtained by sucking the marrow from bones?”

“Criminal! How dare she parade in public!”

First, a pen was thrown from the crowd, making a stark ink stain on Rong Fuyue’s modest plain dress.

As if some mechanism for venting anger had been triggered, shoes, paper balls, vegetable leaves, and even stones followed, flying toward Rong Fuyue.

Rong Fuyue was struck, turning her head away, her figure staggering.

“Stop throwing! Stop! My lady… my mistress is no longer Wei Yan’s wife! They’ve separated!”

The maid desperately tried to shield her mistress with her small body, but this only provoked more frenzied condemnation. With a tearful voice, she cried, “What does this have to do with my lady! She was also kept in the dark! How can you treat her like this? Is anyone in charge here?”

“Aunt.”

Zhao Yān pulled Rong Fuyue inside Shunyi Gate just in time. The gate guards immediately rushed forward, forming a human wall with their long halberds, blocking the agitated commoners outside.

Seeing the situation escalating, Zhao Yān stepped forward and said loudly: “Everyone, please calm down!”

No one listened to her, so Zhao Yān raised her voice further: “I am the Crown Prince of the Eastern Palace. Everyone, please calm down! I deeply appreciate your patriotic hearts, but does bullying a defenseless, uninformed woman bring the dead back to life or punish the treacherous?”

Upon hearing the words “Crown Prince of the Eastern Palace,” the excited crowd finally quieted down.

“I will not let evildoers go unpunished,” Zhao Yān’s mouth filled with cold wind, causing her throat to itch and cough.

But she straightened her back, protecting Rong Fuyue, and persisted in finishing her words, “Nor will I allow anyone, under the banner of justice, to bully the weak or vent their anger.”

Outside the gate, only the whimpering sound of the wind could be heard.

In the silence, Rong Fuyue removed her hood and slowly walked toward the group of people in mourning clothes.

“Aunt…” Zhao Yān was somewhat concerned.

The crowd’s eyes were like knives, seeming to want to dismember this delicate woman, but Rong Fuyue showed no fear.

In the north wind, her hair was disheveled, her plain dress soiled. Facing everyone across the palace gate, she addressed them in a gentle voice: “What Wei Yan did is against heaven’s principles. I make no excuses for him, nor do I have the face to ask for your understanding.”

As she spoke, she bowed deeply before everyone, like a broken flower, devout and choked with emotion: “I’m sorry… on behalf of Wei Yan, I ask for your forgiveness.”

She remained bowing for a long time, her disheveled hair falling from behind her ears, blurring her pale face.

A tear rolled from the tip of her nose and fell to the ground.