After prolonged silence, Zhu Qing returned a hand signal: I’ll draw them away. You’re responsible for finding the person.

Li Buyan’s pupils constricted sharply: No. Who knows if there are others hiding in the dark besides these two. Too dangerous.

Zhu Qing narrowed his eyes, suddenly stood up, and charged toward those two.

Li Buyan bit down hard, forcibly swallowing the curse at her lips. She thought: this Zhu fellow is usually so quiet, yet at critical moments acts so boldly?

In the distance.

The two hidden guards, hearing the commotion, tossed their wine flasks into the courtyard, drew their swords, and met Zhu Qing’s attack.

Zhu Qing struck. After five moves, he sheathed his sword, turned, and ran—his speed jaw-droppingly fast.

The two black-clad men exchanged glances and immediately gave chase.

The wine flasks shattered without attracting anyone’s attention.

Li Buyan watched the three dark figures grow more distant, then crouched low and rushed forward several dozen zhang before lightly landing in a courtyard.

One courtyard.

Two courtyards.

Three courtyards…

Li Buyan’s heart was so anxious she wanted to curse.

Shouldn’t a strategist live close to that Prince Han fellow? Why hadn’t she found anything in the nearby courtyards?

Just then, distant shouts reached her: “Catch the assassin, catch the assassin…”

The voices drew closer—apparently everyone was being alerted.

She wondered how things were on Zhu Qing’s end?

Li Buyan’s heart panicked. She decided to first find a courtyard without lights and hide before continuing.

She nimbly vaulted over a wall. After steadying herself, she pressed her body tightly against it, ears pricked to listen for movement outside.

Before she’d heard more than a few sentences, a slight-framed guard pushed the door open and entered.

Li Buyan had no time to react at all—she could only hold her breath desperately.

She was finished.

This guard was definitely a master—she hadn’t heard even the slightest footstep.

Torchlight from the distance shone in from behind the guard. “Teacher Dong, has anyone come to your courtyard?”

Someone was in this courtyard?

Li Buyan was thunderstruck.

Her eyes shifted slightly, discovering a dark shadow standing under the eaves, hands clasped behind his back.

Li Buyan felt her heart stop beating.

When had this person taken up that position?

He should have witnessed the entire scene of her vaulting over the wall.

Her next move—kill these two first, or flee first?

“No one came.”

Li Buyan: “…”

Dong Xiao took measured steps, slowly walking to the doorway, speaking gravely: “What happened?”

“An assassin entered the residence.”

“Caught them yet?”

“Currently pursuing.”

“Command everyone to strengthen vigilance.”

“Yes!”

The guard responded and quickly disappeared into the night.

Li Buyan silently exhaled. Cold sweat had completely soaked her inner garment.

Just then, Dong Xiao slowly turned around.

Light and shadow shifted. He silently glanced once toward where Li Buyan stood.

Li Buyan’s pupils contracted tightly, terror shooting from the soles of her feet straight to the crown of her head.

A middle-aged man with deep-set eyes, carrying an aura of settled composure—exactly the person from Yan Sanhe’s portrait.

The blessing pouch Third Master obtained for her truly was effective.

Li Buyan stopped overthinking. Only one thought filled her mind: Retreat!

The thought arose and her body suddenly launched upward.

Whoosh—

She was already atop the wall.

Dong Xiao watched the figure on the wall, the corners of his lips curving in a shallow arc. He shook his head, clasped his hands behind his back, and walked out of the courtyard.

…

In the palace, song and dance were at their height. Yet the fine wine and delicacies on the tables remained untouched as everyone exchanged pleasantries.

Emperor Yonghe, Zhao Ji, looked at his sons and grandsons seated below, finally settling his gaze on Prince Han Zhao Yanjin’s face.

So alike!

He seemed to see himself from twenty or thirty years ago.

Tenderness appeared in the Emperor’s eyes. “I am slightly intoxicated. Prince Han, assist me back to my chambers.”

These words struck like thunder.

In past years at the conclusion of New Year’s Eve banquets, His Majesty always had the Crown Prince escort him partway—this represented both rare father-son affection and proclaimed the Crown Prince’s status to the world.

Unexpectedly, today His Majesty summoned Prince Han instead.

Combined with recent events at court, not only were the Crown Prince and Crown Princess alarmed—even the imperial consorts didn’t know how to react.

Was heaven about to change?

Zhao Yishi saw the Crown Prince sitting frozen and quickly stepped forward to help him rise, saying quietly: “Father, His Majesty is departing.”

The Crown Prince rose trembling, forcing words through clenched teeth: “This son respectfully sees His Majesty off.”

Disgust flashed through the Emperor’s eyes.

“Grand Prince.”

“Present.”

“Today is New Year’s Eve. Accompany your father for a few more drinks.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The Emperor’s gaze turned to Zhao Yanjin. Zhao Yanjin recovered from his shock, stood, and walked to the Emperor’s side, extending his hand in support.

Father and son departed slowly under everyone’s watchful gaze.

Zhao Yanjin could even sense two gazes on his back: one from the devastated Crown Prince, one from the teeth-grinding Grand Prince.

Unbidden, enormous satisfaction surged through his heart.

What if he was an inauspicious star?

His Majesty’s most favored remained him.

…

The palace courtyard on New Year’s Eve differed little from other days.

After a few turns, the clamor was left far behind.

Scattered raindrops began falling. Zhao Yanjin moved to summon an attendant for an umbrella, but raising his hand discovered his wrist gripped tightly by the Emperor.

“Your Majesty, it’s raining again.”

“Merely a bit of wind and rain…”

The Emperor turned to look at him. “Are you afraid?”

Zhao Yanjin smiled. “This son fears the wind will blow upon Your Majesty, that rain will drench Your Majesty.”

A strange look entered the Emperor’s eyes. “I fear neither great storms nor waves. This small wind and rain, I’ve never taken to heart. But you—be careful your clothes don’t get wet and you catch cold.”

Zhao Yanjin felt moved. “This son thanks Father Emperor for his concern.”

“Father Emperor hasn’t shown you enough concern.”

The Emperor released his palm and walked forward with hands clasped behind his back—where was even half a trace of intoxication?

Zhao Yanjin froze, then quickly followed. “Father Emperor, the ground is wet. Better let this son support you.”

“No need.”

The Emperor shook his head. “No one can support another for a lifetime. The road—each must walk it themselves.”

Hearing this, Zhao Yanjin felt not only suspicious but astonished.

His Majesty’s words and actions today were somewhat strange. What was happening?

Entering the inner chambers, the Emperor sat at a round table.

Only now did Zhao Yanjin notice a small feast had been laid on the round table—a few small dishes, two sets of bowls and chopsticks, two wine cups.

“The banquet outside was utterly tedious. Accompany me for a few more cups. Let us father and son talk.”

The Emperor personally poured two cups of wine, saying to the assembled attendants: “It’s New Year—all of you may withdraw as well.”

“Yes!”

The attendants departed, leaving only father and son in the vast chamber.

“Jiner, come, sit.”

Hearing His Majesty call his childhood name, Zhao Yanjin was overjoyed. “Father Emperor hasn’t called Jiner by his childhood name in so long.”

The Emperor handed the wine cup to his son. “The imperial family has its rules.”

However deep the father-son bond, before outsiders they must restrain and temper it.

Like today’s New Year family banquet—even without outsiders, they must still consider the Crown Prince and Grand Prince’s feelings.