Early this morning, news came from the palace that the Emperor had coughed up blood during the night and his condition had worsened. Chancellor Gu hurried to the northern courtyard to find Gu Chaobei: “Come with me to the palace at once!”

Shen Guiyan was quite bewildered. Why would Gu Chaobei need to enter the palace when the Emperor was critically ill?

Gu Chaobei didn’t ask this question. He changed his clothes and followed Chancellor Gu outside. Though his face wore an expression of “this doesn’t concern me,” his eyes showed some tension.

If the Emperor died at this moment, how could the Crown Prince contend with the Empress? In the end, he’d likely become nothing more than a puppet emperor. The lives of those on their side would all be in jeopardy.

Rushing into the palace, the entire palace was tense. The Crown Prince had arrived at the imperial presence early in the morning and was currently testing medicine at the bedside. The Grand Empress Dowager and Empress stood to the side with grave expressions.

Previously, the Grand Empress Dowager and Empress had wanted the Emperor dead because the Sixth Prince still existed. Without the Emperor, they could still elevate their own descendants. Now with the Sixth Prince gone, if the Emperor also departed, wouldn’t the throne fall to the Crown Prince?

The Crown Prince held partial military authority and had the backing of court elders. He was very difficult to deal with. The Empress was ten thousand times unwilling to see him ascend the throne.

Everyone in the great hall had different thoughts, all considering their own schemes. Few truly cared about the critically ill Emperor on the bed.

“Chancellor Gu has arrived.” Someone announced from outside, and Chancellor Gu entered with Gu Chaobei.

“The Chancellor has come.” The Grand Empress Dowager said: “You carry the most weight in court. Today the Emperor is gravely ill and an edict must be written. You shall take up the brush.”

Chancellor Gu naturally knew that an imperial edict would need to be written today, so Gu Chaobei carried brush, ink, paper, inkstone, and yellow brocade in his hands.

The Crown Prince looked back at Gu Chaobei, his heart settling somewhat. The Empress paid no attention to this ink-bearer. She had heard the rumors circulating—Gu Chaobei was just a scoundrel rogue, an incompetent fool, probably bought off with silver by the Sixth Prince. Such people were easiest to deal with and not worth concern.

“Since an edict must be written, you should all leave.” The Emperor half-opened his eyes to look at the Empress, Grand Empress Dowager, and Crown Prince: “I trust Chancellor Gu. He will surely record my intentions without omitting a single word.”

“Yes.” The Empress bowed, glanced at the Crown Prince, and helped the Grand Empress Dowager exit. The Crown Prince also rose and withdrew, closing the door.

In the quiet bedchamber, only the Emperor’s occasional coughing could be heard.

“Boyong, come here.” The Emperor said softly.

Chancellor Gu stepped forward and knelt by the bed, his eyes somewhat moist: “Your Majesty was perfectly fine just a while ago?”

“Illness strikes like a landslide.” The Emperor laughed lightly twice, glanced at Gu Chaobei beside him, and a glimmer appeared in his eyes: “This child has come as well.”

“Yes.” Gu Chaobei held the writing materials, looking at him calmly without bowing.

“You’ve grown so big. How wonderful.” The Emperor smiled: “With a good wife and a good father, I can be at peace…”

Gu Chaobei’s face bore a mocking smile as he looked coolly at the Emperor without speaking.

“You know how to write the edict, don’t you, Boyong?” The Emperor coughed twice more and asked.

Chancellor Gu kowtowed: “This subject understands.”

After kowtowing, he rose and took what Gu Chaobei carried, going to the table in the outer chamber where his brush moved like a dragon and snake.

Gu Chaobei didn’t watch. With the Crown Prince already established, the edict wouldn’t deviate much. It would probably pass the throne to Ming Xun and then order Chancellor Gu to assist in governance.

He now just looked at the old man on the bed.

Old—actually not that old. He was only in his forties, yet his skin was spotted, wrinkles creased the corners of his eyes in layers, and his hair was graying.

For this throne, he had worried himself to pieces. In all these years on the throne, he still hadn’t been able to remove the screen standing behind the court.

Noble families held supremacy. What happened next would depend on how the Crown Prince handled things.

“Come closer.” The Emperor beckoned to him.

Gu Chaobei walked over with a numb expression, knelt by the bed, and extended his face: “Do you want to touch my face and say ‘you look just like your mother’?”

The Emperor froze, his eyes somewhat dazed.

“I’m not a fool. I’ve known for a long time. You needn’t burden yourself so much.” Gu Chaobei said carelessly: “Didn’t you visit the Chancellor’s manor when I was eight? I heard everything you said and understood it all.”

The Emperor drew a deep breath, looking at the person before him and murmuring: “Eight years old…”

He still remembered what happened when he was eight?

“That Bei’er is so healthy puts my heart at ease.” The Emperor of those years sat in the Chancellor’s study, sighing: “He is a dragon’s son, yet must change his name and live under your protection. I have truly failed Chanjuan.”

“Your Majesty need not grieve. This humble subject will treat the prince as my own son.” Chancellor Gu said: “Whether he lives an ordinary life hereafter, at least he won’t have to kill and struggle within the imperial family. The Lady will also be at peace.”

The small figure catching crickets outside the window heard everything completely. The cricket escaped from his hands without him even noticing.

From age eight onward, Gu Chaobei became incorrigibly wild, never again capable of great things. The Chancellor raged at his failure to meet expectations, scolding him while protecting him, only seeking not to betray the Emperor’s trust.

“I did underestimate you.” The Emperor, his face full of illness, laughed lightly: “I didn’t expect you to mature so early.”

Gu Chaobei rolled his eyes: “Children without mothers from a young age all mature early.”

He actually very much wanted to ask who his birth mother was. But now that he was grown, with his birth mother never having been by his side even for a day, knowing wouldn’t create any emotional connection. Better not to ask.

“I have wronged you.” The Emperor closed his eyes: “After I die, just live well.”

Spoken so lightly. Gu Chaobei frowned: “You kicking the bucket now is simple enough, but what about the Crown Prince? Even if he ascends the throne, his wings aren’t fully grown. Won’t he still be like you, holding court under that old witch’s surveillance?”

The Emperor was set coughing by these words, though his spirits improved somewhat: “Life and death are fate. I don’t want this either.”

“Then hold on a while longer and die more slowly.” Gu Chaobei turned his head away, saying sullenly: “Dying now is such a waste. You haven’t even held a single grandchild, your sons are nearly all dead, and the realm is still in your wife’s hands. As pathetic emperors go, you’re the only one in all of history.”

“You child…” The Emperor smiled and shook his head, closing his eyes somewhat wearily: “I’m tired today as well. You and the Chancellor together, place the edict behind the plaque in the court hall, then return.”

Gu Chaobei glanced at him and pressed his lips together: “Understood.”

Chancellor Gu was writing the edict outside and hadn’t heard the conversation inside. He only sensed that Gu Chaobei’s mood wasn’t very good when he emerged.

“What’s wrong with you? Did you offend His Majesty?” Chancellor Gu frowned.

“No.” Gu Chaobei waved his hand: “I was just thinking—what are the imperial physicians in the palace for? A perfectly healthy person falls ill, yet they can’t determine the cause.”

Chancellor Gu pressed his lips together: “These matters aren’t for you to concern yourself with.”

Gu Chaobei smiled faintly. It seemed these matters truly weren’t his concern. He was merely the Chancellor’s son, after all.

After placing the edict and leaving the palace, Gu Chaobei didn’t go to the training grounds but returned to the northern courtyard and shut himself in bed.

Shen Guiyan, seeing his expression, went over to massage his back and asked gently: “What’s wrong?”

Gu Chaobei said: “Someone unrelated is about to die, and I’m not very happy about it.”

Shen Guiyan raised an eyebrow: “If they were truly unrelated, why would you be unhappy? When someone can affect your mood, it means that person is very important to you.”

Gu Chaobei froze, his face souring: “How are they important? All these years I’ve shouldered everything alone. He’s done nothing. Why should I think he’s important?”

His entire being radiated awkwardness, making Shen Guiyan laugh. This man really was—occasionally so childish it was both touching and exasperating.

“If he’s not important, why are you unhappy?” Shen Guiyan patted him: “If you can’t figure it out, that’s fine. If you’re unwilling to admit it, that’s also fine. Time will give you the answer. After many years when you look back, you’ll be able to see clearly what you can’t see now.”

Gu Chaobei drew a deep breath and buried his head in the bedding, his eyes actually feeling somewhat sore.

Gu Chaodong had left the manor to establish his own residence. Gu Chaonan had obtained a position at the Court of Imperial Sacrifices and had recently begun to keep busy. There weren’t many people in the manor—only Xu Mengdie occasionally came to talk with Han Jiangxue and Shen Guiyan.

“Why does Mengdie seem unhappy?” Shen Guiyan, seeing her expression, asked: “Didn’t Second Brother obtain an official position?”

Xu Mengdie forced a smile: “It’s not your second brother’s problem. He’s good. The problem is me. After all this time, I still haven’t been able to conceive again. The physician says that because of my previous miscarriage, I may never be able to conceive again.”

Both women were startled. Han Jiangxue quickly grasped her hand: “Never conceive again? This is a serious matter. You must seek treatment quickly!”

“What use is treatment?” Xu Mengdie smiled bitterly: “My husband should probably establish a proper wife. I only hope he marries someone fertile to fulfill his dream of descendants.”

Looking at Xu Mengdie, Han Jiangxue somehow felt they were kindred spirits in misfortune. Though her issue wasn’t about children, she too could never reconcile with Yuwen Houde like a broken mirror made whole again.

Thinking of Yuwen Houde, Han Jiangxue instinctively looked back. These past days he had come almost every day, yet today for some reason he still hadn’t appeared.

Yuwen Houde was receiving his karmic retribution.

He had originally been bringing gifts to the Gu manor, but halfway there unexpectedly encountered a group of bandits who forced him into an alley, clearly intent on taking his life.

“If I must die, at least let me die understanding why.” Yuwen Houde looked at these people: “I have no grievances with any of you. To lose my life today without an explanation—even if I become a vengeful ghost, I won’t let you go!”

Before him were all street thugs and ruffians who worked for money. Hearing this, they had no professional ethics whatsoever and immediately sold out their employer: “A beautiful young lady found you troublesome and wants you eliminated. When you’re dead, don’t blame us brothers. We’re just taking money to eliminate disasters for others.”

A beautiful young lady? Yuwen Houde’s face paled, instantly thinking of Han Lu.

She would actually move against him so ruthlessly? Yuwen Houde cursed that little whore in his heart, but right now cold sweat poured down as he desperately sought a way to escape.

Unfortunately, the path was blocked. His life would end today!

As the blade fell, Yuwen Houde closed his eyes, feeling only some regret in his heart. He shouldn’t have been so bewitched—not only betraying Xue’er but also costing himself his life.