Lotus flowers bloomed again on Huiling Lake, but no one paid attention this summer. The Emperor galloped his horse through the Forbidden Palace, startling the lotus branches into trembling.

He led the palace’s Imperial Guards and rode all the way out through the Mingguang Gate.

Though it was broad daylight, the imperial thoroughfare had its doors tightly shut and not a single person in sight.

Having just rounded a bend, Song Lan caught sight of Mount Luyun to the northeast of the palace complex, its flames leaping to the sky.

This rain had been providence for him, and even more so for Wumang — at least, with one fire he had thrown the city-defending Imperial Guards into utter chaos.

An elder official in the great hall had clutched his legs, pleading bitterly: ‘The northern army’s morale is at its peak, the hundred thousand troops have yet to return, our own morale is in complete disarray — we are truly not suited to engage them in direct confrontation. Your Majesty should first send envoys to negotiate peace. If peace cannot be achieved, lead the civil and military officials out of the city and plan for a future opportunity!’

The man facing him was so angry his beard and hair bristled: ‘Traitor, traitor! At this moment the Imperial Guards are defending the city walls. As long as we are united as one, we can repel the enemy — how can we abandon the city? If the Son of Heaven flees first, what are the people of Biandu to do!’

‘Common people are as worthless as weeds — how can they be compared to the safety of the Son of Heaven?’

‘Your Majesty, grant me armor. This old official is willing to give his life for the nation and defend to the last!’

The clamoring voices left him with a mind in chaos. Song Lan flung his sleeve and left, galloping on horseback to the city gates.

As he heard the sound of rocks being catapulted against the city walls, his mind suddenly recalled a piece of advice he had eavesdropped upon many years ago.

Still under the banana leaves of the Hall of Zishang, on a sweltering summer afternoon. He had parted the leaves and seen Song Ling kneeling upright at the desk, the back of his robe soaked through.

Yet he remained as still as a mountain, silent as a statue.

Fang Hezhi stood holding a book, and said gravely: ‘The Book of Rites says: “A ruler dies with his domain, a great minister dies with the masses, a gentleman dies by the code.” Though the strategy in your evening’s essay of abandoning the city is meant to preserve strength, once the royal army retreats, the nation’s fate scatters. Even if you escape and seek outside support, how can you be certain they will not covet the sacred vessel and plunge the realm into great chaos?’

‘…To govern and rule, one must weigh far too many considerations — one cannot calculate by interest alone.’

These words he had clearly eavesdropped upon before — so why was it only now that he could recall them?

Yet even having recalled them, facing the city wall scorched by battle fire before him, the desire to retreat still inevitably welled up in his heart.

A soldier who saw him approach in person could not help but cry out: ‘The imperial carriage has come in person — those who retreat shall die!’

This shout nearly jolted him awake. Song Lan dismounted, climbed the wall to survey the distance, and saw only billowing smoke, the sound of battle vehicles advancing and the din of killing never ceasing. He barely steadied his nerves, summoned the commanding officer, and deliberated countermeasures with them.

Not knowing whether his presence had provided some degree of inspiration, or whether the soldiers fought more and more valiantly once they unified their tactics, within half an hour they had already shown initial signs of gaining the upper hand. Song Lan collapsed exhaustedly behind the city wall and looked toward Mount Luyun, which still streamed with heavy smoke.

Just as a strange feeling of elation began to stir in his heart, someone came rolling and stumbling forward to report: ‘Your Majesty! Left General Yan Ji has committed treason! He — he opened the south city gate for the northern army!’

The surrounding soldiers were instantly thunderstruck. Song Lan’s mind buzzed: ‘Impossible — the northern army’s main force is attacking here. How could they send troops to the south gate?’

The man trembled as he answered: ‘This is — this is a feint attack. From the moment the great fire started on Mount Luyun, soldiers from their army swam across and ambushed the south gate!’

The palace complex was simply a matter of high walls and deep moats.

If they could hold out for two days and allow Youzhou to recover its breath, even if they could not deliver a heavy blow to the northern army, they could at least exhaust the army’s assault — after all, their provisions had been burned once already, and their swift march also suggested a reluctance to be tied down in prolonged battle.

But if the city gates were thrown wide open, all was lost.

Song Lan immediately scrambled up, clenching his teeth, and before he could even speak, the Imperial Guard general at his side said: ‘We will escort Your Majesty out of Biandu first, and plan for a future opportunity!’

He had been waiting for someone to say these words, yet when the moment came, a simple ‘very well’ absolutely would not come out of his mouth.

After all, even the soldiers who had just fought desperately were deeply hesitant — most people’s families were in Biandu, and when the northern army entered the city they would surely massacre it.

These people might not truly intend to protect him.

So Song Lan swallowed those words and replaced them with: ‘All generals must preserve their strength for the future. The blood debt with the barbarians will one day be repaid! Are you willing to fight without strength and throw your lives away in vain?’

Seeing the expressions of the assembled men ease somewhat, he barely managed to let out a breath: ‘The battle at the city walls today, We have seen it all clearly. Upon returning to Biandu one day, those with merit shall be enfeoffed as marquises and rewarded with a thousand gold!’

He pulled off the jade archer’s thumb ring from his hand and tossed it into the crowd of soldiers. The Imperial Guard general who had spoken first immediately knelt down and earnestly said: ‘Please, Your Majesty, leave the city!’

‘Yes, we will escort Your Majesty and fight our way out of the city!’

Song Lan shed his armor and changed into common clothing. Under an escort of fewer than a thousand cavalry led by the Imperial Guard general at the city gates, he prepared to slip out of the city in the chaos.

News of the south gate being opened spread with extreme speed. Now on streets and alleys and before city gates, panicked citizens were everywhere. Some carried heavy bundles on their backs, while others ran about with knives, killing and robbing.

In the surging crowd, Song Lan collided head-on with a plainly dressed woman. The front of her garment was stained with blood, and she wept and called out in the crowd: ‘Has anyone seen my son, has anyone seen my son?’

Citizens had gathered before the north city gate and were knocking and pounding on it, the commotion shaking heaven and earth.

‘Before the great army arrives, open the gates, open the gates!’

‘The barbarians are slaughtering people without mercy. Fleeing now still offers a chance to survive — staying in the city means only waiting to die!’

There were also those crying out: ‘Where is the royal army, where is the royal army!’

‘The northern army came with their full national strength, and neither General Sui nor General Li are in the city — how can we resist? I hear even the little Emperor has fled the city — who would care whether we live or die?’

The north gate was already in total chaos. Song Lan forced himself not to listen to these sounds and only sent men up the city wall to signal the opening of the gates.

The city wall’s garrison soldiers were deeply hesitant. Just at this moment, a single cavalry rider came up from behind, holding a dark red military banner high, riding a circle through the crowd.

‘Do not open the city gates, do not open the city gates — the south gate has not fallen! The rumor is the northern army’s means of shaking people’s hearts! If the gates are opened, encirclement from north and south will doom Biandu — do not open the city gates!’

The crowd was still half-believing, half-doubting, when through the lingering smoke, the two characters on the banner gradually became visible: ‘Chengming.’

‘Transmitting His Highness the Crown Prince’s military order: all people should tightly seal their doors, take up weapons and wait. Any who take this opportunity to create trouble and disturbance shall be charged with treason!’

Shouts echoed down the length of the street.

Everyone had heard the story of someone raising the Crown Prince’s banner to break the siege of Chang’an. If they had been half-believing before, at this moment no one cared whether it was real or not.

Joy spread across the faces of the common people, and these few words alone seemed to give them an anchor for their hearts.

‘He… has actually come?’ Song Lan stood in place murmuring, his face full of disbelief. ‘He has come this quickly?’

Counting the days, if he had arrived now, he could have stopped for at most one day after breaking the siege of Chang’an.

One day — truly a day without hesitation.

He had been so certain the northern army would make a swift assault, so certain that he absolutely could not hold Biandu?

‘Someone…’

The bewildered soldiers lowered their heads, and they heard the little Emperor’s trembling voice: ‘Accompany Us to the south city gate.’

To see in person this ‘Crown Prince’ who had been dead for many years — just who was this divine being.

…

This battle went very smoothly.

At the moment of the gong’s sounding, the sky that had just cleared grew overcast once more. Wumang had feigned attack with a mountain fire, but fell into the same trap as Song Lan — overextending his forces. When Song Ling arrived, he was caught nearly unprepared.

But he showed no desire to prolong the fight whatsoever, and sounded the gong at once to retreat.

In their final exchange, the two men’s sword edges struck out a string of sparks, and amid the sparks, Wumang suddenly asked: ‘Going into the city like this — aren’t you afraid he’ll kill you?’

Song Ling’s face was half-stained with blood, yet he did not answer.

Wumang continued: ‘With this defeat behind him, he has nothing left to worry about from the rear. Do you think he’ll tolerate you? For all that I thought you were an intelligent man — going back to Biandu just like this is far too hasty. They won’t recognize you!’

Song Ling raised his eyes and looked at him, and a smile crossed his face. He asked in an unhurried, deliberate tone: ‘Is that so?’

Wumang gripped his sword hilt and pulled back his horse: ‘Let us hope not. I look forward to fighting you again.’

He turned and left. Song Ling stared at the dust kicked up by his flying horse and realized that with this battle unresolved, Wumang would certainly have another move yet.

After all, Chang Zhao had not yet returned to the capital.

But there was no time to worry about that now.

When Song Lan arrived, the south city was utterly still.

He dismounted and staggered forward a few steps, and happened to see Song Ling riding into the city. He had looped the reins around his hand and was walking his horse slowly, as if deliberating something.

Having passed the shadow of the city wall, Song Ling finally saw him standing there.

Though the sky was overcast, the dark clouds had not yet gathered densely. At the moment Song Ling raised his eyes, a rumble of muffled thunder broke in the distance. Then lightning flickered, clearly illuminating a face entirely different from what it had once been.

It truly was him.

Song Lan heard the sound of his own heart plummeting rapidly.

Among the Imperial Guards around him, many had known Ye Tingyan and recognized that he had once been Song Lan’s trusted attendant. But in the flash of lightning, gazing at the dark red royal banner fluttering behind him, quite a few men answered by sinking to their knees, tears welling in their eyes, crying: ‘Your Highness!’

Among them was the Imperial Guard general at Song Lan’s side.

He had once followed Song Ling on the southern campaign. Just a moment ago he had been merely mumbling a few words, but upon seeing those eyes, his heart was so greatly shaken that he could not help himself — his knees went soft and he knelt down. After a long moment, his voice still trembling, he called out: ‘Your Highness!’

In those days of the southern campaign, His Highness had only just come of age. He himself had also been young.

Time had passed in a flash, things had changed and people were different, yet beneath that fierce great wind, he heard once more the very heartbeat he had felt when he first joined the army — on the day the Crown Prince reviewed the troops.

One beat. Then another.

By the roadside, there were also a few citizens who had boldly picked up wooden staves and cleavers during the battle. They could not recall what the former supremely honored Crown Prince had looked like, nor did they know the appearance of the Emperor’s trusted attendant. They only knew that when the battle had nearly broken through the city gates, this man had descended from the heavens like divine soldiers and saved Biandu.

So they knelt and bowed, calling out loudly: ‘Long live Your Highness!’

As for the Emperor — the Emperor was dressed in common clothes at this moment, lost among the crowd, and no one recognized him.

Song Ling let out a sigh, and after dismounting, stepped forward, stopping at Song Lan’s side.

Song Lan, his face ashen, fell backward and sat down on the ground.

In the past, it was the subject who knelt while the ruler stood.

Now it was the elder brother who stood while the Son of Heaven knelt.

He caught the scent of the other man — the smell of cold steel mixed with blood, something cruel, yet warm.

Tilting his head up along the armor, he could barely make out the other man’s face. He only heard him say: ‘Zi Lan — it has been a long time.’

The sun was slanting westward.

The smoke of battle gradually died away. As the heartbeat of the capital, the palace complex had maintained a forced composure even during the most chaotic moments. Before the Mingguang Gate, the guards had been replaced by drooping-headed junior eunuchs, all eyes fixed on the distant flames of Mount Luyun.

The Great Yin had been at peace for so many years, the capital had been prosperous for so many years — how had it come to this in a single night?

Perhaps it was not merely a single night.

It had been fated to come to this ever since the Crown Prince was assassinated, ever since years of drought, ever since refugees knelt and wept at the city gates while merchants drove up grain prices.

Who knew what tomorrow would bring?

The sound of rumbling carriages came from the end of the street. Someone drew near this place, and some hastily knelt down without daring to raise their heads, some turned and fled, and some bold souls craned their necks to look, and then cried out in disbelief: ‘The Empress!’

So everyone raised their heads, and upon recognizing who had come, cried out in surprise and joy: ‘The Empress!’

Luowei wore a pair of iron wrist guards and waved her hand as she had always done: ‘All rise.’

After the fierce battle was done, she and Qiu Xueyu led some hundred-odd soldiers and made straight for the palace complex — the moment had come, and there was no turning back. Wumang had not lingered in the battle, which meant he was conserving his strength. After Chang Zhao returned to the capital, another bloody battle was still to come.

Before that war arrived, they had to reclaim the palace complex in the shortest possible time, have Biandu recognize this ‘deceased Crown Prince,’ and seize Song Lan’s authority.

Otherwise, with internal strife unceasing, how could they fight the enemy with united hearts?

The Ezhen tribe, together with the northern tribes, had been playing this game of chess for twenty years. They would need to stay sharp and vigilant to have any hope of winning.

When she took her leave, Song Ling had been somewhat hesitant: ‘The palace still has the Lin Guards. Though Yuan Ming will receive you, you are bringing only a hundred-odd people — is it not too dangerous?’

Luowei smiled reassuringly and said nothing.

She entered the palace through the Mingguang Gate, going straight into Qianfang Hall, encountering no obstruction whatsoever.

Every palace servant recognized her, and upon seeing her return, they broke into smiles and ran about spreading the news.

Luowei saw too many familiar faces. From the moment she entered the palace, who had not received her grace and beneficence? Setting Qiu Xueyu aside — those who had been humiliated by the inner court eunuchs, those who could not afford medicine, those who had been punished by nobility… one only had to come before the Empress, and once she had investigated, she had never wronged a single person.

Even those she had punished were convinced in their hearts that they had deserved it.

The palace complex always had a nominal master, yet sometimes did not need one. Setting aside the tiger tallies for commanding troops, setting aside her noble status, without edicts, without the need for coercion, she walked in through the Mingguang Gate with complete openness, and in half an incense stick’s time had taken it back under her hand.

Among these inner court servants and palace maids, how could there be none with calculating minds, who thought nothing of old kindnesses and cared only for their own interests? Yet in the current circumstances, they all understood clearly in their hearts whose side was the right one to take.

Yuan Ming led a small number of Vermilion Bird guards and knelt before her from a distance.

Luowei called him to rise and brought him along as she continued to Qianfang’s main hall.

Yuan Ming, watching the palace servants kneeling by the roadside to welcome her, could not help but feel a deep astonishment in his heart. He had previously served in the Ministry of Justice and had not been long in the palace — whether in the ministry or in the palace, the nobility ordered their servants about, yet were also themselves ‘ordered about’ by their servants.

Arriving somewhere new, they would spend vast amounts of time winning people’s loyalty, scheming against those above and below, using profit and false personal relationships to induce others to defect.

Luowei, within the palace complex, had no such thing as ‘trusted confidants’ — just as Crown Prince Chengming, in the court, had no factions bound to him by personal interest and family connections.

When she was present, everyone heeded her direction. When she was absent, they could wholeheartedly serve others.

Yet when she returned, in a brief moment, she needed only to walk in through the Mingguang Gate, and she could take control of this palace.

Luowei seemed to have noticed the surprise Yuan Ming was concealing on his face, and suddenly asked: ‘Mosheng, why were you willing to give your life for His Highness?’

Yuan Ming collected his thoughts and answered gravely: ‘His Highness showed this humble one great kindness.’

Before joining the Yan family’s army, he had been an ordinary farmer in the outskirts of the capital, who farmed diligently and cared for his widowed mother. But on an ordinary day, his elderly mother was entering the city, crossing a street, and was trampled to death by a nobleman’s son galloping his horse.

Yuan Ming went to demand justice and was driven out the door. The nobleman’s son left money contemptuously, but Yuan Ming refused to take a single coin, going to cause trouble every day, seeking only that the law be applied in judgment.

The prefecture was worn down by his persistent imposition and had, following precedent, sentenced the nobleman’s son to prison. But Yuan Ming happened to learn that the nobleman’s family had eyes and ears everywhere and had long since had him secretly substituted out of prison.

When he went again to cry out his grievance, no one heeded him. Even the onlooking commoners felt he was being unreasonable, and he had become a ‘troublemaker’ who frequently made scenes at the prefecture demanding money.

Until one day, when Song Ling happened upon him grappling with someone over a drumstick. Song Ling crouched before the prefecture and listened to his story to the end, then after a moment of silence, suddenly asked him what, after persisting so long, he was ultimately seeking.

‘I seek… justice!’

At that time, he had not yet known the other man’s identity. He only heard him say approvingly: ‘Well said.’

Song Ling picked up the drumstick that had fallen to the ground and struck one blow for him. The drum sounded, resonating.

‘Better to cry out and die than to remain silent and live. When wrong weighs on one’s heart, it must be spoken aloud — this is, originally, the bedrock courage of Great Yin’s subjects.’

The nobleman’s son was imprisoned again, and more old cases were drawn in along with it. He was sentenced to decapitation.

His great grievance was avenged, and he changed his name to go into the army. A few years later, he met Song Ling again in the Ministry of Justice.

He did not know whether His Highness still remembered him, and said nothing. Song Ling finished the matter at hand, and as he was leaving, reached over and patted his shoulder: ‘Mosheng, these years — you have been doing very well.’

…

Luowei listened to this old story and could not help but break into a smile.

‘Yes — you see, I reclaimed the palace complex in half an incense stick’s time, but in truth, for this half incense stick of time, I spent more than ten years preparing… or perhaps it was not preparation at all. Just as when he showed you kindness back then, he never thought of asking for your repayment.’

‘But a human heart surpasses ten thousand gold or silver, surpasses the sword of the Son of Heaven that the late Emperor bestowed on me. It is the sharpest weapon in the world.’

The spirit of the city’s knight-errant gathers for a remarkable purpose; a palace maid’s report of old grace sets the plan in motion. How many of those who claim the honored guest’s seat would give their lives to escort a prince?

Such is the way of things.

*

The foreign enemy outside Biandu had been driven off by the royal army flying the banner of ‘Chengming.’ Though all four city gates remained sealed, some measure of temporary calm was restored.

Some citizens saw soldiers on the street repairing overturned market stalls and sweeping away bloodstains, and boldly came out to help, offering a bowl of hot porridge, then asking a question: Was the one who had descended from the heavens truly Crown Prince Chengming? Had he truly not died in that assassination attempt of years past? If he had not died, why had it taken so many years before he returned to Biandu?

And so the soldiers by the roadside patiently answered: His Highness had been harmed by traitors back then, but by good fortune survived, and had gone south to recuperate, only waiting for the right moment to reveal the truth of those events to all and clear the names of those at Tinghua Platform.

His Highness had not originally intended to return so hastily, but with foreign enemies arriving suddenly, he had no choice but to lead his subordinates in an urgent rescue.

Within just a few hours, such talk had spread throughout Biandu’s streets and alleys. Some confusions that had long troubled people also received answers through embellishment — that song ‘Imitation Dragon’s Chant’ of years past had truly been the Crown Prince’s old followers satirizing the current Emperor.

The true dragon had not died; he had only been lying low in the water.

His former reputation had been so excellent that even people who doubted him were hard to find.

Come to think of it, this reputation had been forged together by Luowei, Song Lan, and the whole of Biandu.

But if the Crown Prince was still alive, then what role had the current Emperor played — the one who had used the Jintian Case to massively censure people and erected statues of the guilty at Tinghua Platform, the one who after the Jingqiu Remonstrance had gradually lost the hearts of the people?

What world-shaking old affairs were being hinted at by those vague references to ‘harm by traitors’?

People’s thoughts went in many directions, but they had not expected that after the Crown Prince entered the city, he did not go to the palace at all.

After he ordered soldiers to clean the streets, he encamped outside the palace complex.

After evening came, the palace complex, after a gap of five years, issued the order for a night curfew.

What was even more astonishing was that this prohibition had been issued by the Empress, who according to rumor had died at Guyou Mountain.

The Empress had originally been the Crown Prince Chengming’s sweetheart from their youth. She had not died — she had entered the city together with the Crown Prince. This news was undoubtedly a definitive resolution to all the speculation that had come before.

At the height of the northern army’s most furious assault at midday, the Emperor had changed into common clothes and prepared to abandon the city. When the city gates were sealed, someone saw him sent back to the palace in a small palanquin by the Imperial Guards.

Everyone was waiting — waiting to see what earth-shattering changes the palace complex would see tonight.

But this night was utterly silent.

Luowei stood in the vast, empty Qianfang Hall. Behind her was Song Lan, who had been escorted back to the palace.

Song Lan sat on the dragon throne, two Vermilion Bird-uniformed guards flanking him.

Though he had clearly been brought to the end of the road, he had shed his former frenzied demeanor. He lounged there casually and waited with her for a long while.

After the curfew order, Luowei issued an edict summoning all the officials to the palace, yet two hours passed without a single person coming.

Song Lan threw back his head on the dragon throne and laughed out loud, mocking: ‘Elder sister, do you know why they will not come? If they come tonight, it will confirm your identity and that of my so-called “elder imperial brother.” How can a man dead for so many years come back to life? Can you guess — will they think you are using his banner to commit the act of usurpation?’

He tumbled off the dragon throne and crawled toward her a few steps. The two Vermilion Bird guards pressed him down, but Luowei waved her hand and let him crawl right up to her.

She simply sat down on the golden steps, and Song Lan hugged her arm, as if throwing a childish fit at her as he had in their youth, and said with a smile: ‘Don’t think that just because those civil officials used to speak up for you, they will help you today! Even if the common people accept you — what of it? The lives of lowly people are like weeds, forever to be toyed with by the opinions of those in power, and tomorrow they will have forgotten who you are.’

‘And the literati who manipulate public opinion care most of all about their own reputations. Where do they find the courage to entangle themselves in a possible “act of usurpation”? Without them, your identities will forever be subject to dispute, you cannot hold the throne steady, nor can you kill me — elder sister, are you willing to rot together with him on the pages of history?’

Luowei turned her head and looked at those eyes of his, flickering with malice. Something rare stirred in her — she was lost in thought for a moment.

After a long while, she slowly said: ‘Every student of the Imperial Academy has echoed the “Jintian Poem.” When you planned the Jintian Case, it was precisely to bind them to you forever, was it not? The students of the Imperial Academy are models for all literati, and the literati are the mouthpiece of the nation. Who would be willing to admit that they had once served as a tool for a tyrant? For the sake of their reputations, they will resist to the death and refuse to admit it. If they do not admit it, the assembled officials will not dare come.’

‘Elder sister has always been so sharp-minded.’

Song Lan reached out to touch her cheek, but she turned her head aside to avoid him. Seeing her expression of revulsion, he was unmoved, and only said with a smiling air: ‘They will not admit it. You can never overturn the Thorn-of-Tang Case. So what if he is not dead? So what if you plotted for years? You said “the prodigy’s skills are not yet exhausted” — that I could never, for a lifetime, surpass him. So what?’

He laughed out loud, his face showing deep dimples on both cheeks.

‘Do you think you have won? I think not. Going forward, every single day and night, you will face this kind of torment — clearly acting for the sake of all under heaven, yet the people of the realm will interpret your actions in every kind of malicious way, and the historical record will only note your crimes of usurpation. He was dead back then! Not dead from the night of the Thorn-of-Tang Case, but dead from the moment you stood at the Censorate and listened to the recitation of the “Elegy for Jintian” below the platform! There will always be those in later generations who feel I was innocent — elder sister, you and he can go down to hell with me!’

A gust of wind blew over the candleholder by his hand, and the vast hall sank into near darkness. Before long, from outside the hall came the sound of lightning and thunder, and the wind heralding rain.

Song Lan waited a long time without hearing Luowei respond, and was feeling self-satisfied, certain he had struck a nerve, when he heard a light laugh from the darkness.

‘Listen.’

‘Listen to what?’

Luowei said: ‘The sound of the lightning.’

A thunderbolt cracked open in the air close at hand. Song Lan gave a start, while Luowei unhurriedly continued: ‘Tonight there is thunder and rain, but tomorrow one can still see the sun… You spent your entire life’s energy to kill him back then. Yet are you so certain that everything will go as you imagine?’

She pulled her arm out of his embrace, and mimicking him, burst into loud laughter — laughing louder and more wildly than he had.

‘The human heart… is it something so easily manipulated? You regarded them as chess pieces to be moved in your palm, convinced they would comply with your arrangements — yet they were never lifeless objects on a chess board. In this world, there will always be some things that can transcend power, choice, and interest, and destroy your calculations!’

‘Do you know why it came to this day for you? Because you never believed in their existence.’

Song Lan ground his teeth and squeezed out a sneer: ‘Elder sister has grown this old and is still as naive as back then? If they truly existed, the Thorn-of-Tang Case and the Jintian Poem would never have happened!’

‘Only you lack them,’ Luowei said coldly. ‘You are certain they will be imprisoned by a single elegy poem — fine. We will sit here together and wait, and see whether they come or not!’