After nightfall, Zhan Liyue came alone to the tent where Yanu was being held.

“Empr—” The soldiers on guard rushed forward to meet her.

Zhan Liyue shook her head, and the soldiers immediately fell silent.

“How is the person inside?” Zhan Liyue asked in a quiet voice.

“He should be… asleep.” The soldier replied in a low voice.

“Was the evening meal brought to him? Did he eat?” Zhan Liyue’s voice continued.

“No.” The soldier shook his head. “But Commander Yu personally brought medicine over — he should have taken it.”

Zhan Liyue waved her hand and continued forward.

A soldier followed at once, coming to a stop before the tent’s curtained entrance.

“What happens tonight — my visit here — is not to be mentioned before anyone, not under any circumstances.” Zhan Liyue swept a glance over the soldier.

The soldier nodded and lifted the curtain open.

Zhan Liyue glanced inside, then stepped forward and walked in.

All around was still and quiet; inside the tent, too, it was completely silent.

Within the tent, a man sat with both hands and feet bound, propped against a large wooden post, his eyes closed.

His breathing was steady and even — the very picture of someone deep in sleep.

Even with only a flickering candle lighting the tent, Zhan Liyue’s eyes found the birthmark on his neck the very first moment she looked.

Was he truly her Wuyou?

Zhan Liyue drew a slow, deep breath and stepped forward, crouching down beside Yanu.

She extended her hand and gently tilted Yanu’s face up, studying it carefully for a long moment.

Her long fingers moved downward and came to rest on the birthmark on his neck. Even her fingertips trembled faintly.

To verify whether this was truly natural skin, Zhan Liyue’s long fingers traced slowly back and forth over Yanu’s neck, again and again.

The skin here was fine and smooth, his pulse clear and easily felt — everything, all of it, was telling her that what she saw was the truth.

“Wuyou.” Zhan Liyue traced this face with her hand, her eyes shimmering with a faint, wavering light.

After a moment, Zhan Liyue rose to her feet, lifted her head, brushed the corner of her eye, and said quietly, “Someone come.”

“Yes.” The soldier standing guard outside the curtain heard her and immediately lifted the flap, stepping inside.

“Your Imperial Majesty the Empress, what are your orders?”

“Untie him and lay him on the bed.” Zhan Liyue issued the low command.

“But this…” The soldier hesitated. “Commander Yu said that although this person has sustained internal injuries, his martial arts are formidable, and there may be concern that…”

“Untie him.” Zhan Liyue’s voice dropped several degrees lower.

“Yes.” The soldier immediately nodded and went to crouch beside Yanu.

Once his bindings were removed, Yanu lay flat on the bed.

Zhan Liyue sat down beside him and waved her hand in dismissal.

The soldier cupped his fists in salute, turned, and left.

Zhan Liyue lowered her eyes to gaze at the person before her. That gentle expression on her face was one rarely ever seen.

Her Wuyou — named Wuyou, “free of sorrow” — should have grown up free of all worry, happy and at peace.

Disfigured. Mute. A servant.

Yu Jingfeng’s words were like one thorn after another, each one driving deeper into Zhan Liyue’s heart.

If she had not given up so early, could she have found him sooner? Could his life have been even a little better?

In that great fire all those years ago, Wuyou had been only a little over two months old. She had been convinced he was no longer of this world.

Just who had saved him, and what had he endured throughout all these years?

Zhan Liyue took hold of Yanu’s hand, and the greater the ache in her heart, the tighter the grip of her hand around his.

Her youngest son — the one who resembled his father most closely — separated from her for over twenty years. How had he endured it all?

Ye Luosha walked in to find Zhan Liyue still gazing at Yanu in a trance.

A soldier hurried in after her and said in a low voice, “Your Imperial Majesty the Empress, General Ye… she has come.”

Zhan Liyue paid no attention. Ye Luosha waved her hand, and the soldier cupped his fists in salute, turned, and left.

“What in the world is going on with you?” Ye Luosha frowned, stepped forward, and approached.

Today, she could make no sense whatsoever of the elder sister before her.

“He came to kill you, and yet you have protected him again and again — what has gotten into you?” Ye Luosha came to stand behind Zhan Liyue and asked in a low voice.

“Leng Xing, have a look.” Zhan Liyue gently turned Yanu’s head inward a little.

The bull’s horn birthmark on Yanu’s neck was now clearly visible to both of them.

“What is this?” Ye Luosha’s brow furrowed.

“It is Wuyou. On Wuyou’s neck, there was also a birthmark exactly like this, identical in every way.” Zhan Liyue reached out her long fingers once more and lightly traced over the birthmark.

“There can be no mistake. He is Wuyou. Look carefully — does he not resemble his Imperial Father greatly?”

Ye Luosha studied Yanu for a moment and said in a measured tone, “Handsome people tend to share a degree of resemblance in their features. Could the Empress be overthinking this?”

She was not unwilling to find Di Wuyou — yet back then, Wuyou had been only a little over two months old. How could he possibly have survived that great fire?

“There can be no mistake. You also see the resemblance, do you not?” Zhan Liyue’s voice sounded again.

“And there is this birthmark — whether in shape or in location, everything matches.”

“Leng Xing, he truly is Wuyou. He is my youngest son — Di Wuyou.”

“Empress, I heard from Yu Jingfeng that this man is one of Feng Jiu’er’s people. Are you not worried that all of this is some scheme of Feng Jiu’er’s?” Ye Luosha’s voice was very low and grave.

“Feng Jiu’er is full of cunning schemes. If she knows something of Di family matters and sent him here to impersonate Wuyou in order to carry out her revenge — would you not be walking straight into her trap?”

Ye Luosha’s words had barely fallen when she and Zhan Liyue both looked toward the outside of the tent at the same moment.

“Greetings to His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince. Greetings to the Second Imperial Prince.” The voice of a soldier drifted in from outside.

An instant later, Di Wuya lifted the curtain and stepped in. Behind him followed Di Feimu and Yu Jingfeng.

“Why would Jiu’er want to come and take revenge?” Di Wuya fixed his gaze on Zhan Liyue and asked in a low voice.

The moment he had stepped through the door, the temperature in the entire tent plummeted at tremendous speed.

Had it not been that the two women inside the tent each had something heavy weighing on their minds, they would not have failed to notice someone approaching until the person was already there.

By this moment, it seemed as though everything was too late.

“Crown Prince, what are you saying?” Ye Luosha rose to her feet.

“Why would Jiu’er want to come and take revenge?” Di Wuya’s cold gaze remained fixed on Zhan Liyue.

“I have no wish to ask this question a third time. Tell me — what exactly is going on?”

“Mother, is what Yanu said true? Was it you who pushed Jiu’er off the cliff?” Di Feimu looked at Zhan Liyue, his expression extremely grave.

If what happened had truly been done by someone on their own side, then beyond the disappointment Di Feimu felt toward them, the most important thing of all was that he could not forgive himself.

If he had not gotten drunk and had that accident, would history have been rewritten — was that not so?

“Since neither of you is willing to believe, why ask any further?” Zhan Liyue looked at her two children and let out a quiet sigh.

“Was it, or was it not?” Di Wuya’s voice rang out like a demonic sound rising from the depths of the underworld.

Everyone present knew — he was about to erupt in fury.

Zhan Liyue held his gaze, and in the end she gave a nod. “It was me. Everything I did was for the Di Imperial Dynasty.”

The moment her words fell, Di Feimu turned and was gone from the tent in an instant.

“Mu’er.” Ye Luosha’s legs carried her out after him. “Mu’er, where are you going? Mu’er.”