On the other side of the compound, the First Prince was ushered into the garrison commander’s residence. The moment he stepped through the door, the simmering resentment he’d built up from being repeatedly turned away hadn’t even begun to vent before every word he’d had ready died in his throat — because seated in the main chair was someone wearing a mask.
The head of the Seven Lodges Bureau. What was he doing here?!
Every humiliation of his life, every degrading moment — all of it had been forced out of him by this man. Whenever he thought of that day in the Seven Lodges Bureau’s punishment hall, every move he’d made under scrutiny, his face burned — with shame, with fury, and with hatred.
One look at this person and every memory he’d spent so much effort trying to bury came surging back all at once. His feet refused to carry him any further into the room.
“First Prince.” Wu Yong offered a proper bow. He himself was still reeling — before seeing that mask, he had never imagined that Shizi was the head of the Seven Lodges Bureau. Now that he knew this extraordinary secret, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he might be eliminated to keep it.
Gu Chengde forced a smile and walked in nonetheless. “I wasn’t aware the head of the Seven Lodges Bureau would also be here.”
“This official assumed you wouldn’t be surprised.”
An unpleasant feeling crept over the First Prince, yet he pushed forward. “What do you mean by that?”
“Li Gonggong. Real name: Li Ping.” Watching the First Prince’s expression collapse, Gu Yanxi curved his lips in cold mockery and continued, “A remnant of the Chaoli Tribe.”
“Impossible!” Gu Chengde denied it without a moment’s thought. “She followed me for seven years — utterly loyal. Even when I was exiled, she quietly followed to serve me. And though I never thought to conceal anything from her, I never made decisions in her presence either. She kept her place and never once acted against my interests. How could someone like that be a Chaoli Tribe remnant? Absolutely impossible!”
“Never once acted against your interests? If that were truly so, you would still be the son the Emperor holds highest regard for — the First Prince with the greatest claim to the throne.”
“What does she have to do with any of that?” The pent-up resentment in Gu Chengde finally erupted. “Who was it that knocked me off that position? Who was it that made me lose everything? Who was it that didn’t even spare my mother’s family, cutting off my every hope of recovery? It was you — it was your Seven Lodges Bureau!”
“Did I make you present elixirs to the Emperor?”
“I…” The First Prince choked, the air caught somewhere between his chest and his throat. He knew he’d behaved shamefully in that matter. But hadn’t emperors throughout history taken such things? He had only wanted his imperial father to delegate more authority to him.
“Did you know — had the Emperor continued taking those elixirs for another two months, no physician in the world could have saved him?”
The First Prince listened as though hearing a fairy tale, not believing a single word. He laughed coldly. “Don’t take me for a fool. History is full of emperors who took elixirs for decades — Father has only just begun.”
So that was indeed the case. He had been careless. Gu Yanxi’s gaze softened slightly. The eldest had selfish motives, but had no intention of taking his imperial uncle’s life. He’d thought he was offering an ordinary elixir — something that would cause no harm over three to five years. What he didn’t know was that someone had used his hands to carry out something far more sinister.
“Li Ping has already confessed to being a Chaoli Tribe remnant.” Gu Yanxi nodded to Chentu to pass over the written testimony. “Since you don’t believe the Emperor nearly died because of the elixirs you presented — go back and see for yourself. The Chaoli Tribe’s resurgence is now a fact. Even if you’ve lost your status as a prince, you were raised with an imperial education. You know the gravity of this. Think carefully on the road back about what you intend to account for to the Seven Lodges Bureau. Chentu — take him out. Make preparations. We depart for the capital at first light tomorrow.”
“Yes.” Chentu led the First Prince away, the man staring at the testimony with an expression of sheer disbelief. Only then did the ever-silent Wu Yong speak. “You’re truly letting him return to the capital?”
“The Yinshan Pass already has enough hidden dangers. We can’t leave him here — I was too shortsighted before.” Gu Yanxi removed his mask. “I’m leaving the Yinshan Pass to you. Make good use of the Hua Family’s minds — especially Elder Master Hua. Don’t forget that the Hua Family’s ancestor was Hua Jingyan, the military strategist who helped the Founding Emperor win the empire single-handedly. He may very well have left something for his descendants.”
“This official understands.”
“Should things change suddenly, act as you see fit. I’ll bear the consequences.”
Wu Yong said nothing. He simply gave him the highest military salute a general could offer.
It was no secret at court that Shizi was held in even higher regard than any of the princes. There were moments when Wu Yong privately hoped that position might one day be occupied by this man. No prince could do it better. More than once, he had felt that Shizi carried the manner of the Founding Emperor — someone worth following with absolute loyalty.
But he also knew — Shizi and a prince were, in the end, not the same thing.
The next morning, as the first faint light crept across the horizon, the gates of the Hua Family residence swung open. Early risers passing by caught a glimpse of the eldest young miss of the Hua Family — who had not shown her face publicly in some time — emerging from within, followed by members of the household. The scene was unmistakably one of farewell.
Since her body had not fully recovered, Hua Zhi had every justification to share a horse with Gu Yanxi. Zeng Han was helped onto another mount by Jia Yang.
“I’m leaving now. I’ll keep watch over the household — none of you need to worry.”
Hua Yizheng had heard the message relayed through his youngest the day before, and the sorrow had settled heavier in his heart. “Watch yourself on the road. No matter what happens, remember — your own safety comes first.”
Hua Zhi pressed her lips together, then nodded.
She looked over at her father. The man who spoke so few words in ordinary times was silent now as well, as always. Meeting her gaze, he gave a single nod — not one word more.
Her eyes swept across each face in turn. From atop the horse, Hua Zhi leaned forward in a bow. “Take care of yourselves.”
Gu Yanxi likewise gave a slight incline of his head, then gently nudged the horse’s flank. Linying broke into a steady trot.
The sound of hooves rose, then faded, until there was nothing left. Silence fell before the Hua Family gates. Hua Yizheng clasped his hands behind his back and took two steps forward, then stopped.
“It was right here, wasn’t it? Zhi’er stood right here and held back the black-clad assassins who came for our lives. How quickly you’ve all forgotten.”
He said nothing more, indifferent to the expressions of those who heard him. He cast one glance toward the empty road ahead, then turned and walked back inside, his lean figure bent as though the weight of it had curved his spine.
Hua Pingyu’s body trembled slightly. His lips pressed into a hard line. The hands hidden within his sleeves clenched into fists. He raged on his daughter’s behalf, yet there was nothing he could do — after that night, Zhi’er had told him to say nothing, do nothing. The Hua Family was, in the end, the Hua Family’s family. Even for the sake of future harmony, it could not become her Hua Zhi’s family.
He understood the reasoning. He did.
But how could they — how could they simply take it as their due, growing distant from Zhi’er as though it were only natural, forgetting that on that night she had fought until she bled for them, willing to give up even her life?
How could they forget so quickly?
Atop the horse, Gu Yanxi looked down at A’Zhi, whose face carried a quiet smile. Knowing she truly didn’t mind about any of that, he didn’t bring it up. “Is the wound still itching?”
“Not anymore. Shaoyao’s medicine works remarkably well.” The new skin growing in over these past few days had itched terribly, but with a skilled physician always close at hand, Hua Zhi hadn’t suffered too badly — though the medicine did need to be applied every two hours, which was something of a nuisance.
“If anything feels wrong on the road, tell me. Don’t endure it in silence.”
“I know.” Hua Zhi rested her head against his arm and looked up at him. “I won’t be polite with you.”
Gu Yanxi lowered his head and nuzzled gently against her forehead, his heart full of what it wanted to say — yet in the end, he held back from truly closing the distance.