Death bells echoed throughout the city. Before dawn, all ministers and imperial family members were already sleepless. Through the night, Prince Jin was summoned to the palace by Liu Wenji. While arranging for Prince Jin’s invitation to seize this opportunity, Liu Wenji strangled the Emperor. He did it with his own hands, without anyone’s knowledge.

After leaving the Emperor’s bedchamber, Liu Wenji set a fire and blamed it on the late Crown Prince who had committed suicide. A dead man couldn’t defend himself, and no one would doubt that he had made one last desperate attempt. The fault lay with the Crown Prince himself.

Who would have thought that right after Liu Wenji had someone inform him about the fate of Prince Qin’s followers, he would choose to end his life? Although the Emperor hated both the Crown Prince and Prince Qin for their rebellion, they were still his sons, and he didn’t want to kill his flesh and blood. Moreover, the Emperor had shown leniency toward the Crown Prince.

So on this night, both the Crown Prince and the Emperor had to die. But there were still some loose ends to tie up—Liu Wenji questioned the commander of the palace guards: “You’re telling me my master, Chief Imperial Steward, has disappeared?! Such an important matter, and you’re only reporting it now?”

The commander naturally knew that palace affairs were now effectively controlled by Liu Wenji. Not wanting to offend this eunuch, he smiled apologetically: “Everything was in chaos when it happened, we couldn’t find Lord Cheng right away. We’ll keep searching…”

Liu Wenji suppressed his unease and said in an ambiguous tone: “You must find him!” He suspected that Cheng An had witnessed his actions and escaped… But where could an old eunuch in his forties or fifties, nearing the end of his life, possibly flee to? And who would he seek justice from?

Liu Wenji said darkly: “Search not only the palace but also outside. Cheng An conspired with the criminal Crown Prince to murder His Majesty, he cannot be spared!”

The guard commander maintained a solemn expression. Liu Wenji was about to emphasize the severity of the matter further, but a minor eunuch whispered in his ear that Prince Jin had arrived, so Liu Wenji turned to welcome this more important person.

Standing under the gray-white dawn sky, the guard commander respectfully watched Liu Wengi walk away. Once Liu Wenji’s figure disappeared from view, the commander spat in contempt, cursing: “Damn eunuch, daring to throw his weight around with me!”

The deputy commander beside him asked: “That Lord Liu wants us to search for someone…”

The commander replied dismissively: “Just make a show of searching. Is finding someone really that important? A new emperor is about to ascend the throne, we palace guards have more important things to do—like pleasing the new emperor. Who cares about Liu Wenji?”

Everyone agreed wholeheartedly.

When Liu Wenji hurried to the side hall of the Emperor’s quarters, he saw Prince Jin staring absently at the half-burned imperial bedchamber. Prince Jin’s gaze was excited yet filled with dreamlike uncertainty.

Liu Wenji raised his horsetail whisk and said respectfully with a smile: “Your subject has been awaiting Your Majesty for some time.”

Prince Jin turned to look in confusion, staring blankly as Liu Wenji led the eunuchs in kowtowing to him. His mind was still in a daze, thinking Liu Wenji’s “Your Majesty” referred to his father.

When Liu Wenji smiled at him expectantly, Prince Jin suddenly startled and hurriedly helped Liu Wenji up: “I dare not, I dare not! Lord Liu, was Father murdered by the criminal Crown Prince? But father never passed the throne to me.” He looked around anxiously and pulled Liu Wenji to a corner, whispering: “Didn’t you say father never considered me?”

Liu Wenji privately despised this useless man. But outwardly he asked seriously: “What does it matter if there’s no imperial edict? His Majesty had only three princes—the criminal Crown Prince has been executed, Prince Qin was demoted for treason, leaving only you, Your Highness. Is there even any choice? Even if you announce your ascension at tomorrow morning’s court, no minister would dare oppose you.”

Prince Jin still hesitated. Liu Wenji raised his head and declared loudly: “Moreover, I will support you! I invited you to enter the palace early tonight precisely to discuss your ascension and help you deal with those difficult ministers. With my assistance, you need not worry.” Liu Wenji’s voice grew heavier as he added: “Unless you’ve never wanted the throne?”

Prince Jin was stunned. Then he slowly said: “I… I do want it.”

He had dreamed of being emperor. But his two elder brothers were too formidable, gradually crushing his backbone lower and lower. To survive as a prince under their overwhelming pressure, he had forced himself to become someone who avoided all affairs and retreated from everything.

In his early years, he had secretly expressed his ambitions to his mother the Imperial Consort, but in recent years, he gradually stopped speaking of them. As he grew more desperate, he increasingly felt the throne could never be his. How could he compare to Prince Qin’s power or the Crown Prince’s cunning?

He could only endure and endure… Yet one day! The throne had fallen from the heavens onto his head! Like a pie falling from the sky—such incredible luck!

Prince Jin snapped out of his daze and grabbed Liu Wenji’s hand, his expression turning excited: “Lord Liu, help me! Once I secure the throne, I will never forget your assistance. Your kindness will never be forgotten, and I will not disappoint your expectations.”

He was already referring to himself as “We,” filled with satisfaction.

Liu Wenji laughed coldly inside while outwardly continuing to flatter this man with pleasing words—compared to the Emperor, the Crown Prince, and even Prince Qin, this Prince Jin was the easiest to fool. A useless emperor was exactly what Liu Wenji wanted.

Though he had Liu Wenji’s assurance, having been suppressed by the Crown Prince and Prince Qin for many years, Prince Jin remained insecure. The next day at court, Liu Wenji pushed for Prince Jin’s ascension. When Liu Wenji propped him up on the throne, Prince Jin looked down with a stiff neck, feeling dizzy.

So this was how hard the emperor’s seat was, how high the emperor’s view was. Prince Jin sat rigidly, forcing himself to look down. His back was soaked with sweat as he felt all the ministers coldly examining and sizing him up.

Everyone was judging whether he was worthy. Prince Jin felt enormous anger rise in his heart, but he dared not show it. Having lived through his father’s era, he knew how formidable these ministers were.

The entire court of civil and military officials was evaluating him, perhaps even judging if any imperial clan member would be better… Liu Wenji gave Prince Jin a push from beside, and Prince Jin snapped back to attention.

Prince Jin forced out a stiff smile as if trying to please these ministers: “We… We will rule the realm together with you all, and not disappoint Father’s great expectations. We are still young and unfamiliar with some state affairs, so we ask for your guidance. But please be assured! We will certainly make Great Wei even stronger under our rule.”

Prince Jin was guarding against these ministers not accepting his claim to the throne, but to his surprise, these ministers didn’t give him much trouble, instead discussing how the late emperor had died, why the criminal Crown Prince had acted so rashly, and how to arrange the late emperor’s funeral.

Prince Jin was in a daze. Prime Minister Liu and the other chancellors reminded him: “Your Majesty, the court is no place for spacing out.”

Prince Jin hurriedly agreed, making his attitude very proper. Seeing that he did seem somewhat capable, the chancellors didn’t say much else—what else could they do? Only one legitimate prince remained. Would they kick out the legitimate heir and replace him with an adopted one? Wouldn’t that throw the realm into chaos?

Prince Jin had not yet formally ascended the throne—that would wait until the beginning of next year to be officially announced to the world. But now with no leader, Prince Jin had been placed on the throne and began managing affairs.

The matter of the Crown Prince and Prince Qin’s rebellion had not yet been fully resolved—this was the first thing Prince Jin had to deal with after taking power. On his first day holding court as emperor, the sky was gray and drizzling.

Yan Shang returned from court, and though he had an umbrella, half his wide robes were soaked by rain when he entered his residence. He had just sat down in his chambers to drink some hot tea when Mu Wanyao pushed open the door.

Mu Wanyao asked: “How was it?”

In the seventh month heat, Yan Shang sat by the window wringing water from his robes. Hearing her question, he looked up and asked in return: “How was what?”

Mu Wanyao sat beside him and glared at his unhurried manner. She frowned in displeasure: “The new emperor, of course.”

How the new emperor performed would determine where she and Yan Shang would focus their future efforts. She was so anxious she couldn’t sleep, yet Yan Shang showed no urgency.

Yan Shang raised his eyebrows slightly, considering how to respond: “New emperor, new ministers. The new emperor is naturally different from your father, and all the officials need time to adapt. This process will take at least half a year. It’s too early to say how the emperor will be.”

Mu Wanyao understood: “You must not be able to see any real ability in him, that’s why you have nothing to say? I told you long ago, my fifth brother is useless, unlikely to have any real skill. Look how long you tried to find something positive to say, yet couldn’t.”

She became lost in thought: “I heard that the night father passed, Prince Jin entered the palace right away. It must have been Liu Wenji’s idea… Liu Wenji is rushing to show his loyalty. From now on, we won’t be the most favored before the emperor.”

Yan Shang covered his mouth and turned his head, coughing lightly, then said: “We never were the most favored. We should just do what needs to be done, and not worry about the rest.”

Seeing him cough, Mu Wanyao immediately grabbed his hand. Feeling how cold it was, she became anxious: “Why are your hands so cold again? Your health hasn’t fully recovered, yet you still went to court. You don’t take your health seriously!”

Yan Shang gently reassured her: “With the new emperor just beginning to manage affairs, I had to go see. Didn’t you want to know too? Hmm… *cough cough*”

He tried to suppress the urge to cough but couldn’t. These few coughs made Mu Wanyao’s expression change.

Mu Wanyao stared at him, then suddenly said: “Take leave.”

Yan Shang sighed: “Yao Yao! The late emperor has just passed and the new emperor just ascended—this is when the Ministry of Personnel is busiest. As subjects, we naturally must help the ruler sort these matters out. How can I take leave just because of some minor illness?”

Mu Wanyao said coldly: “Will you request leave yourself, or shall I go to the palace and request it from the emperor for you? After all, as a princess who holds power in court, our new emperor would surely be eager to grant my request.”

Yan Shang was momentarily speechless. After a while, he said: “Then I’ll take two days’ leave first.”

Mu Wanyao raised an eyebrow: “One month.”

Yan Shang: “…”

Yan Shang laughed helplessly, hugging Mu Wanyao as he explained gently: “Yao Yao, I can’t rest that long. The court can only be chaotic now—no strong leader, and the new emperor has no prestige. At times like these, evil spirits will all emerge.

“I cannot leave court at this time.”

Mu Wanyao muttered: “You’re not even Prime Minister, let them deal with it themselves.”

Yan Shang still spoke gently: “When you eat the ruler’s grain, you owe loyalty to the ruler.”

Mu Wanyao was both anxious and angry, but she knew he wasn’t someone who could idle away his time reading books, playing music, and visiting friends, so she had to accept it.

And not just Yan Shang—Mu Wanyao herself couldn’t stay idle. After Prince Qin’s defeat, she gained influence in the Ministry of War, and she needed to quickly arrange for her people to take positions during this chaos.

Only with power could she contend with the new emperor.

During this transition between the old and new reign, when no one had time to care about this matter, Yan Xiaozhou went to the prison to see Yang Si.

Originally when the Crown Prince committed suicide, Liu Wenji wanted to pin the crime of murdering the late emperor on him. They thought no one in court would oppose this, but unexpectedly, Yan Shang was the first to question it.

In the Great Wei court, first and second rank officials held honorary positions with prestige but no real power. Third rank officials were at the level of chancellor, while fourth and fifth rank officials could attend court daily and held real positions.

Moreover, Yan Shang wasn’t just a Director in the Ministry of Personnel—he was now the leader of the commoner faction.

His questioning naturally carried weight: “The Crown Prince had already confessed his crimes. When the late emperor questioned him while still alive, the Crown Prince admitted his guilt without hesitation. The Crown Prince was imprisoned in the Eastern Palace—how could he have had the military force to rebel again and murder the emperor?

“The Crown Prince’s wife who left the Eastern Palace said the prince took his life to plead for her and Third Young Master’s relatives and friends. Why would someone trying to protect his loved ones needlessly continue to rebel? Who would listen to him? Was he so all-powerful?”

The new emperor sat uneasily on the throne, listening to Second Young Master Yan’s questioning with scalp tingling. He glanced at Liu Wenji from the corner of his eye.

Liu Wenji was also in court. He looked at Yan Shang with an insincere smile: “The Crown Prince rebelled once, so he would dare to do it twice. Why does Director Yan think he wouldn’t? Perhaps you had secret dealings with him? How do you know he wasn’t that capable?”

Yan Shang replied mildly: “If he truly had such power, why would he need to burn the Eastern Palace or plead for mercy? If he were really that formidable, what would be left for any of us to do?”

He always spoke diplomatically.

And Wei Shu, who usually stayed silent in court, suddenly blurted out: “If the Crown Prince had such ability, he would be the one sitting on the throne now, and Your Majesty and we wouldn’t be discussing how to deal with his descendants.”

Liu Wenji gritted his teeth but couldn’t respond for a long while: “…”

The new emperor’s face turned from green to white at Wei Shu’s bluntness.

The new emperor still hadn’t noticed, but Liu Wenji began to grow wary. He felt that Yan Shang represented the commoner faction, while Wei Shu represented the newly rising noble families… if these two forces united, wouldn’t he lose his voice in court?

Yan Shang was no longer the same person he used to be.

He had to prevent Yan Shang from growing too powerful.

As these three factions struggled in court, the new emperor watched with partial understanding, maintaining ambiguity and not daring to take sides easily.

To prevent the noble families and commoner factions from joining forces, Liu Wenji privately pressured Censor Zhao to have Wei Shu marry his daughter Zhao Lingfei. The noble families should ally with the palace eunuchs to squeeze out the commoner faction first.

But Liu Wenji could only employ such tactics because he couldn’t clearly explain how the late emperor’s death was connected to the Crown Prince.

This detail remained unclear.

The ministers led by Yan Shang couldn’t investigate it, and Liu Wenji couldn’t provide detailed evidence. Fortunately, Yan Shang was mild-mannered and didn’t have such deep feelings for the late emperor. When the new emperor privately persuaded Second Young Master Yan to let the matter go, Yan Shang stared at the new emperor for a moment, making him uncomfortable, but Second Young Master Yan agreed to drop it.

Yan Shang only argued for the Crown Prince on a few points—

The crime should not extend to wives, daughters, and descendants.

The Yang family should be demoted but not exterminated.

Though Yang’s Third Young Master participated in the rebellion, he was deceived and misled by the Crown Prince, so his crime did not warrant death.

The new emperor approved Yan Shang’s proposed handling of the Crown Prince’s matter, exiling the Yang family to Liaodong, while sending Yang Third Young Master to the Jiannan frontier as forced labor in the militia.

In short, Yang Si’s life was spared.

On the day Yang Si was to be sent away, the couple Mu Wanyao and Yan Shang came to see him off.

Behind Yan Shang was his sister, Yan Xiaozhou.

Behind Mu Wanyao was Zhao Lingfei. Censor Zhao wanted to sever ties with the Yang family and wouldn’t come to see Yang Si off. Zhao Lingfei had sneaked out on her own.

Wearing prisoner’s clothes, bound in shackles, and hair disheveled, Yang Si was silent and still. He wouldn’t even look at Yan Shang and his wife. Mu Wanyao watched him, her heart aching.

Yan Shang stepped forward and gave the guards some silver, asking them to step away to give them space to talk.

After the officials walked away, Yan Shang gazed at Yang Si, whose eyes were unfocused and wouldn’t look at them, and said softly: “Don’t worry, your father has been exiled to Liaodong but hasn’t left yet. He’s already elderly, so I’ll try my best to negotiate for the Yang family. They were only implicated and weren’t deeply involved in the rebellion. Their punishment won’t be as severe as yours. After a few years of hard labor, once everyone has settled down, there will be chances to meet again.”

Yang Si didn’t respond.

Yan Shang continued: “The Crown Prince’s wife has been taken away by her family. Before leaving, she asked me to give you a message. She said it was from the Crown Prince.”

Yang Si’s expressionless eyes showed a ripple of emotion. He looked at Yan Shang, his lips trembling.

After a long while, Yang Si said hoarsely: “What message did Elder Brother Lang leave for me?”

Mu Wanyao stepped forward, looking at Yang Si, and said softly: “No matter what people in court say, no one can produce evidence. I don’t know who’s telling the truth, but the Crown Prince’s wife said he took his life with the dagger you gave him in your childhood.

“He left you these words—’Chengzhi, to become the person you want to be, soar as an eagle in the sky, fly beyond Chang’an. Don’t let me influence you, don’t let me constrain you.'”

Chengzhi, Chengzhi.

Yang Si’s courtesy name was “Chengzhi”—the Crown Prince had given him this name before he even came of age, out of fondness for him.

The Crown Prince had arranged for him to marry the daughter of the Youzhou Military Commissioner, but now that he was a criminal, that marriage would not happen.

In the end, the Crown Prince called him “Chengzhi,” returning to him what he had given—if the eagle belongs in the sky, then let it fly there. Don’t stay bound to the mundane world, don’t be constrained by worldly attachments.

Yang Si listened in a daze, light flickering in his eyes like starfire. He mumbled a few words and gave a low laugh.

He said to Yan Shang and Mu Wanyao: “Thank you.”

Yan Xiaozhou quietly watched him, thinking he might have words for her. If he would just say one word, she would take a step forward.

But Yang Si didn’t.

Before Yan Shang, Yang Si wouldn’t take even one extra step.

Yang Si turned and walked toward the officials. Zhao Lingfei called out “Cousin” and lowered her head to wipe away tears. Her heart was filled with sorrow—how had her cousin, who had played with her since childhood and said he would become a mighty eagle, come to this?

Mu Wanyao called out from behind: “Third Brother Yang!”

Yang Si’s back stiffened, but he didn’t turn around.

Mu Wanyao’s voice was choked with emotion: “I had people bring your father out from the dungeon—don’t you want to see him?”

Yang Si’s spine straightened. Without turning back, he strode forward: “An unfilial son who has implicated his family has no face to meet his elderly father. No need to meet—”

The officials waited for Yang Si, bowed to the nobles present, and then led Yang Si away in iron chains.

But at the gates of Chang’an, a horse cart arrived at great speed. Yang’s father, wearing coarse clothes, was hurried off the cart by officials. Mu Wanyao immediately went to nod to Yang’s father and pointed the way: “He went that way—”

Yang’s father looked into the distance, seeing his son’s figure being dragged by officials, a pitiful sight in the setting sun. He was anxious but helpless. Mu Wanyao lent him a horse, and when nearby officials tried to interfere, Yan Shang waved them back.

But how could a criminal leave Chang’an? How could he implicate the princess and her husband?

Yang’s father rode barely a few zhang before stopping. Sitting on horseback at the edge of the city, watching his son’s desolate retreating figure, Yang’s father’s eyes filled with grief as he called out loudly—

“Third Son! Third Son—” The world is harsh, and your father doesn’t know what to say. Your father doesn’t blame you, you did nothing wrong, and the Yang family doesn’t blame you. You remained loyal and upright—what wrong is there in that?

“We only regret teaching you too well!”

Yang’s father cried out in anguish: “Third Son, Third Son! If I wished you to do evil, evil could not be done; if I wished you to do good, then why did I not do evil? Third Son, it’s only that the world is too harsh, but you are still the Yang family’s good son, still my good son!

“When we have the chance, your father and mother will come see you! Our family will surely reunite, surely reunite—”

In the distance, Yang Si turned his head, tears seemingly in his eyes, looking at those who had come to see him off. The setting sun cast a blood-red glow, all things filled with sorrow. In all his years in Chang’an, each time he turned to leave, it was still only these people who came to see him off.

Han Shuxing, following behind Yan Shang, felt everyone’s sorrow. But unable to understand the meaning of Yang’s father’s words, he asked Second Young Master Yan.

Yan Shang gazed at Yang Si in the distance, turning back with tears at the foot of the mountains, and explained softly:

“‘If I wished you to do evil, evil could not be done; if I wished you to do good, then why did I not do evil?’

“This means: I wanted you to be a bad person, but doing bad things is wrong; I wanted you to be a good person, but I didn’t do anything evil, yet we’ve come to this end.”

Han Shuxing was stunned and asked: “What does that mean?”

Yan Shang couldn’t continue, so Mu Wanyao answered him: “It means circumstances have forced us to this point, but Third Brother Yang did nothing wrong.

“Han Shuxing, none of us… did anything wrong. We aren’t evil people.” It’s just that nothing in heaven and earth has clear-cut right and wrong, and throughout our lives, we’re all searching for our place to stand…”

Yan Shang finished with her: “We can only seek to have no regrets in our hearts.”

Everyone was grieving, but only Yan Xiaozhou remained quiet.

The young woman gazed into the distance, listening to her brother and sister-in-law’s words, listening to Yang’s father’s sobbing, watching Yang Si’s tear-filled gaze. She thought back to that day of heavy rain in Chang’an.

Back then, Yang Si could have killed her and Zhao Lingfei, but he had simply left. He wouldn’t kill innocent civilians—he had his principles, he had simply chosen his path.

Yan Xiaozhou suddenly felt a stab of pain in her heart—a place to stand.

Had Yang Si found his place to stand?

As a… friend, an old acquaintance, shouldn’t she help him?

This wasn’t the end.

Yang Third Young Master’s story shouldn’t end so carelessly.