210 BCE, the thirty-seventh year of Emperor Qin Shihuang’s reign

Hu Hai, now of age, sat alone in his carriage. Before him lay an unopened brocade box containing that compass ladle.

Since Sun Shuo’s death, Hu Hai had gone through several attendants, calling each one Sun Shuo, but sadly none could care for him as meticulously as the original Sun Shuo had. This compass ladle had been put away by Sun Shuo back then, but before this journey accompanying Father Emperor, his current attendant had discovered it while cleaning the private storehouse, so he had casually brought it along.

Though he had brought it, he had never once opened it.

Because he was gradually coming to realize how vast the gap between himself and Imperial Brother truly was. Even if Father Emperor passed away, it would definitely be Imperial Brother who inherited the throne. Although the latter had been sent to the frontier prefecture of Shangjun to build the Great Wall, the ministers of court and countryside were not blind. Apart from not having formally issued an edict establishing Elder Brother as Crown Prince, Fu Su had always been cultivated as the heir.

Hu Hai understood his father emperor more and more. The admiration and reverence of his youth had gradually transformed into disdain and contempt. Though he showed nothing on the surface, he knew Father Emperor was slowly aging. Not establishing Imperial Brother as Crown Prince—that was because Father Emperor still felt he could obtain the elixir of immortality and control the Great Qin empire for ten thousand years. Banishing Imperial Brother to the frontier to build the Great Wall, while it sounded nice to say he was letting Imperial Brother gain military experience, wasn’t it actually fear that while he was on tour, Imperial Brother might win over hearts in Xianyang and ascend the throne early?

Father Emperor was afraid of death, afraid of being usurped by his sons.

If a person has something to fear, then he is neither a god nor an untouchable existence.

The corners of Hu Hai’s mouth curved into a mocking arc. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to sit on that throne, nor that he didn’t want to hold the He Shi Bi that symbolized imperial power in his hands, but he had to admit that Imperial Brother was more suitable than him.

Over these years, he had secretly probed and tested continuously. His already weak confidence had been battered beyond recognition. Wanting to ascend that throne had become his lifelong obsession, but he also knew this was simply wanting to defeat Imperial Brother.

Before long, the convoy stopped. He rose to pay respects at Father Emperor’s carriage but was respectfully turned away by the attendants. Returning to his own carriage with confusion, Hu Hai furrowed his handsome brows.

If he remembered correctly, it had been two days since he had seen Father Emperor appear. Moreover, it was said that Father Emperor was in the hearse carriage ahead of him, accompanied by trusted attendants. Whenever they reached a resting place, food would be presented, and the accompanying officials would report to His Majesty outside the carriage as usual, with edicts and approvals issued from within the hearse as normal.

He had seen the handwriting—it was indeed Father Emperor’s personal script. But not having seen Father Emperor for two consecutive days, and not even hearing his voice, made Hu Hai somewhat worried. After all, Father Emperor had been ill before this.

Yes, no matter how powerful Father Emperor was, he was still an ordinary person who would fall sick, age, and die…

Hu Hai fingered the edges of the brocade box, unconsciously opening it. The direction the compass ladle pointed gave him a great shock.

It pointed northwest.

This convoy was traveling in a straight line from east to west. Even if Father Emperor was creating diversions again, it shouldn’t deviate from the convoy’s scope.

The compass ladle must have broken from long disuse, right? Hu Hai stubbornly turned it several times repeatedly. Each time the compass ladle stopped, it pointed northwest.

Shangjun! Wasn’t Shangjun, where Imperial Brother had been banished, in the northwest direction?

Hu Hai’s chest filled with icy coldness. If Imperial Brother was already faintly becoming the sovereign, then what about Father Emperor?

Two days without any sign of life—could he have already passed away?

As soon as this thought appeared in his mind, Hu Hai felt his head buzz, and for a moment he couldn’t even see what was before his eyes. Though he had long anticipated such a day would come, he had never expected it to be so soon.

He didn’t even have the strength to step down from the carriage and seek confirmation in Father Emperor’s imperial carriage. He collapsed there, gasping for breath.

That was his father emperor. Though he harbored some resentment in his heart, that was the father emperor who had doted on him since childhood, who had always protected him as he grew up…

In his daze, the carriage beneath him began moving forward with bumps and jolts again. Perhaps a long time passed, perhaps not long at all—Hu Hai continued holding the brocade box, staring vacantly with unfocused eyes, until a flat, emotionless voice spoke.

“It seems you know what has happened.”

Hu Hai’s pupils slowly focused, only then realizing that somehow Zhao Gao had boarded his carriage. The sky outside had darkened, and lamps had been lit in the carriage. Zhao Gao still wore a five-colored fish-scale silk deep robe with a blue silk-tied double-tailed vertical military cap on his head. Even though he had become a favorite by Father Emperor’s side over the years, he showed no trace of arrogance or swagger, instead becoming increasingly expressionless, making others fall silent at first sight.

Only then did Hu Hai realize what Zhao Gao had just said to him, and cold sweat immediately broke out. He opened his lips but found his throat so dry and itchy that he couldn’t make a sound.

Zhao Gao paid no mind, continuing in his characteristic flat voice, stating plainly and simply, “His Majesty fell gravely ill ten days ago and once wrote a personal letter to the eldest prince, but this letter has remained in my hands and was never sent.”

Hu Hai shuddered, looking at him in disbelief, yet not doubting that what he said was false. Because Zhao Gao was currently the Middle Palace Commandant and in charge of the imperial seal, all documents had to pass through his hands for sealing, so manipulating them was entirely possible.

Zhao Gao’s features appeared dark and unclear in the flickering lamplight. He looked at Hu Hai for a moment, then said slowly, “His Majesty favored the eldest prince for succession.”

Hu Hai felt this was natural—he had seen this clearly long ago, hadn’t he? Though his heart felt melancholy and lost, he undeniably breathed a sigh of relief. After great chaos, what was most suitable was rest and recovery. Under Imperial Brother’s rule, who revered Confucian teachings, Great Qin would surely become even more peaceful and prosperous.

Zhao Gao lowered his head to play with his perfectly maintained hands, continuing indifferently, “Currently no one knows of this matter. All power under heaven rests in my hands. Whichever prince I wish to make emperor can become emperor. To control others versus being controlled by others—how can they be mentioned in the same breath?”

Hu Hai was greatly startled, unable to hold steady the brocade box in his hands, which fell onto his knees. The compass ladle bounced out of the box, rolling several times on the bamboo mat before coming to rest beside Zhao Gao.

The vision of Great Qin’s future that had just formed in his mind immediately crumbled to dust. Hu Hai was extremely intelligent and naturally understood Zhao Gao’s implication—among the princes accompanying Father Emperor on this tour, there was only him.

No one could maintain rationality under such circumstances, and Hu Hai was no exception.

He began uncontrollably imagining if he ascended the throne… but he couldn’t imagine at all the scene of Imperial Brother prostrating before him calling himself a subject. This was completely impossible!

Hu Hai pressed his lips together, taking a long time to recover his voice before murmuring, “To depose an elder brother and establish oneself is unbenevolent; to disobey Father Emperor’s edict is unfilial; with one’s own shallow talents and knowledge, to reluctantly ascend the throne is incompetent. The people of the world are not all foolish—how could they not know there are other circumstances involved? How would one explain to the people of the world? To the ancestors?”

Zhao Gao’s bewitching eyes flashed with brilliant light, his manner composed and confident, “Hai’er, you will do as I wish.”

“Even if Master forces me, it’s useless. No need for more words.” Hu Hai’s refusal was extremely difficult. He did know that most of what Zhao Gao spoke could succeed, but he had to consider—if he did this, how would he face his Imperial Brother afterward? Or perhaps when they met again, it would be a situation of armed conflict, fighting to the death.

This time Zhao Gao didn’t speak. He directly picked up the compass ladle that had fallen beside him, scooped up the wooden board from the brocade box, placed it back on the low table, then reached out to turn it once.

The compass ladle spun around. Hu Hai numbly watched those afterimages, but when the compass ladle stopped, he suddenly widened his eyes, his face full of disbelief.

Because this compass ladle’s handle no longer pointed northwest, but actually pointed at him.

Hu Hai couldn’t believe it, continuously turning the wooden spoon anew. No matter how he turned it, no matter how he changed positions, the compass ladle still rotated following the changes in his position.

“Master… what have you done?” Hu Hai was drenched in sweat. He had already guessed what Zhao Gao had done. Probably when Father Emperor wrote the personal letter and edict to Fu Su, Master had done something. His Imperial Brother… wouldn’t really be dead, would he? Hu Hai still held a thread of hope, looking up at his master expectantly.

“What have I done?” Zhao Gao raised his eyebrows playfully. He leaned forward slightly, approaching his most beloved disciple, saying word by word in a sinister tone, “I did not come to seek your consent, but to inform you.”

Hu Hai stared intently at Zhao Gao, feeling that at this moment in this dark carriage, Master was like an evil spirit crawled out from hell.

As enormous panic and fear emotions submerged him, Hu Hai suddenly thought of something completely unrelated.

Over all these years, his master’s appearance seemed to have never changed at all…

The sun had moved westward, and some shops on the bustling commercial street had already lit up their colorful neon lights.

Hu Hai had already put away his black umbrella, walking slowly on the road home. The little red bird had long since grown impatient and flown home first to eat, since a window at home was left open and it could find its way back.

But why did he remember that scene again? That was the nightmare he had refused to recall for so many years.

So much so that his current impression of Master was that face under the dim, flickering lamplight, like an evil spirit.

Hu Hai lowered his head, biting his left thumbnail, his anxious mood nearly driving him mad.

No, he couldn’t use moon unicorn incense anymore. Instead of recalling many moments spent with Imperial Brother, each time he would remember things about that master.

Yes, it was all in the past now. That person had long since turned to dust.

Hu Hai continued walking forward with his head down, but noticed that suddenly a pair of shiny black leather shoes appeared in his vision, directly blocking his path.

Hu Hai frowned. He hated this chaotic world—definitely another blind punk looking for trouble in the street. Without even lifting his head, he tried to walk around to the side.

But that person also changed direction, still blocking his path and refusing to let him pass.

Hu Hai coldly lifted his head, but in that instant froze in place.

He had long forgotten that person’s face, but upon this sudden meeting, sealed memories were like Pandora’s box suddenly opened, instantly flooding his mind.

That person still possessed those bewitching eyes, still spoke in that same flat, emotionless manner.

“Well, found you,” he said.