Zhu Youchang was still unaware of the schemes Qi Min had carried out in collusion with the Li family. Indignantly, he said, "Marquis, since the Crown Prince's eldest grandson still lives, with me as a witness and the Tiger Tally in his hands as evidence, we can surely bring down Wei Yan!"
Xie Zhong also lamented the injustice Meng Shuyuan had endured for so many years. But as an outsider, he remained somewhat calmer. He advised, "Marquis, General Zhu, when you think carefully about the events of that year, there are still many unanswered questions. Wei Yan is a formidable opponent. We should deliberate carefully before acting."
Neither Xie Zheng nor Zhu Youchang spoke. Xie Zhong continued, "Wei Qilin was originally a retainer of the Wei family and later became Old General Meng's son-in-law. The Tiger Tally he took to Changzhou was genuine, yet the Marquis now finds no records in the archives regarding its deployment. This suggests that either the Late Emperor indeed deployed it to cover up the Sixteenth Prince's mistake and deliberately omitted it from the Ministry of War's records, or... Wei Yan had already gained such unchecked power back then that he could privately mobilize the Tiger Tally without authorization!"
Outside, the storm raged on, the damp chill of the rain seeping through the air and permeating the room with a clammy heaviness. The truth behind the bloodshed in Jinzhou and the real cause of his mother's death gnawed at Xie Zheng, veins bulging at his temples as a throbbing pain pulsed through his skull.
His refined features were pale with a cold intensity, like snow upon a blade's edge, the corners of his eyes tinged with faint streaks of red. "Going to such lengths to delay Old General Meng's grain shipment—the true aim of the mastermind was to ensure Jinzhou's fall."
Or rather, to ensure the death of the Chengde Crown Prince.
Everyone knew what the fall of Jinzhou would mean for Great Yin.
Even if the Chengde Crown Prince hadn't died in the battle for Jinzhou, he would likely have been stripped of his title upon returning to court.
Xie Linshan had been a casualty in this struggle for imperial power.
Under Xie Zheng's guidance, Xie Zhong quickly grasped the crux of the matter. Horrified, he exclaimed, "Could it be that the Sixteenth Prince deliberately put himself in danger? Just to ensure the Chengde Crown Prince died in Jinzhou and seize the position of Crown Prince?"
Zhu Youchang, a blunt man, wasn't as quick-witted as Xie Zhong. Hearing this, he frowned in confusion. "But wouldn't that be far too reckless? Throwing himself into the tiger's maw—was he so certain the Late Emperor would spare no effort to rescue him?"
In truth, the Sixteenth Prince had indeed died in Luocheng.
Luocheng was easy to defend but hard to attack. When news of Jinzhou's fall reached Luocheng, the imperial army was plunged into despair. With both the Chengde Crown Prince and Xie Linshan dead, morale collapsed entirely.
The Northern Turks within Luocheng, knowing their forces could now advance unimpeded, saw no further use in keeping the Sixteenth Prince as a hostage. They executed him outright as a sacrifice to their banners.
With the most beloved heir and the Late Emperor's favorite son both dead, Zhu Youchang suddenly realized the reasons behind Jinzhou's fall were far from simple.
After Zhu Youchang's remark, Xie Zhong also felt his earlier speculation no longer held water.
He mused, "As the saying goes, 'When the snipe and the clam grapple, the fisherman profits.' Back then, the Late Emperor doted on the Sixteenth Prince, while the Chengde Crown Prince went to Jinzhou to oversee the battle personally, hoping to win the army's loyalty. The Sixteenth Prince, eager to claim military merit, petitioned the Late Emperor soon after and secured a position supervising grain transport to the frontlines. Yet in the end, both the Chengde Crown Prince and the Sixteenth Prince perished..."
Abruptly, he turned to Xie Zheng. "Could it be that another prince was pulling the strings from behind the scenes, fueling the conflict to vie for the throne?"After a brief moment of thought, Zhu Youchang gritted his teeth and spat out, "Wei Yan! It must be Wei Yan! After the deaths of Crown Prince Chengde and the Sixteenth Prince, the Late Emperor succumbed to grief and illness. Wei Yan swiftly overrode all opposition to install the powerless Nineteenth Prince on the throne! That beast worse than swine—for the sake of power, he wouldn't even spare his own sister and brother-in-law! If not for fear of public suspicion, he'd have seated himself on that dragon throne!"
Overcome with grief, Zhu Youchang's hoarse voice broke into sobs again: "Wei Qilin truly lives up to being Wei Yan's trained dog. General Meng treated him so well! Sister Lihua was even pregnant at the time—how could he bear to help Wei Yan frame General Meng?"
Fearing Xie Zheng might hold grudges against the Meng descendants because of Wei Qilin, he added, "Marquis, if any of Sister Lihua's surviving children carry Wei Qilin's blood, you need not consider them part of the Wei family. The Meng clan disowns that ungrateful traitor Wei Qilin! They are solely Meng blood!"
When Zhu Youchang mentioned Meng Qilin again, Xie Zheng's pale face showed no emotion. His dark lashes lowered slightly as he only asked, "That handwritten letter Wei Yan sent to Old General Meng could also serve as evidence against him. Do you know its whereabouts, General Zhu?"
Zhu Youchang said with self-reproach, "When news of Jinzhou's fall arrived, chaos swept through the army. I never anticipated Wei Yan would frame General Meng, so I didn't realize the letter's importance then. By the time the imperial reprimand came down, it was already lost..."
The throbbing pain in his head made Xie Zheng frown involuntarily.
The letter had ultimately fallen into Wei Qilin's hands—what else had transpired? But Zhu Youchang knew no more.
The paler Xie Zheng grew, the calmer he appeared. Having obtained the answers he sought, he said, "Wei Yan colluded with rebels and has been impeached by the Li family. He will soon face judgment in the Golden Hall. General Zhu, focus on recovering. The blood debts from seventeen years ago—this Marquis will collect every last one from that Wei dog!"
After leaving Zhu Youchang's quarters, Xie Zhong followed closely behind Xie Zheng, hesitating to speak several times.
The rain lightened, leaving only a curtain of fine droplets dripping from the corridor eaves.
Clad in dark robes with one hand behind his back, Xie Zheng stood silently beneath the eaves, gazing at the lush green bamboo in the courtyard. His handsome features seemed indifferent, yet an oppressive aura of gloom and lethality radiated from him, overwhelming his noble bearing.
After much hesitation, Xie Zhong finally spoke: "Marquis..."
Without lifting his eyelids, Xie Zheng said, "No need to follow me. Dismissed."
Xie Zhong ventured unusually forward: "Madam's actions back then were surely to protect you, Marquis—a last resort. Please don't grieve. If the General and Madam knew of your accomplishments now, they would smile in the afterlife."
Xie Zheng's eyes turned sharply cold and fierce: "Dismissed."
Xie Zhong glanced at Xie Zheng's unyielding back and sighed inwardly.
He had always known—Madam Xie's suicide was an unshakable knot in Xie Zheng's heart.
Now with the truth revealed, it would only bring Xie Zheng greater pain.
For over a decade, he had hated Madam Xie's weakness, hated her cruelty in abandoning him to be raised by their enemies.
Yet Madam Xie had taken her own life after uncovering Wei Yan's conspiracy—to protect Zhu Youchang and the old Xie faction.Wei Yan could imprison Zhu Youchang and others for a lifetime, but he could never keep his own sister locked away forever. As long as Madam Xie lived, Xie Zheng would eventually learn the truth of what happened that year.
With Wei Yan’s methods, he would undoubtedly seek to eradicate the root of the problem.
Madam Xie had chosen to hang herself to save Xie Zheng’s life. By leaving a final request for Wei Yan to raise Xie Zheng, she had also placed him directly under Wei Yan’s watchful eye, ensuring Wei Yan’s complete peace of mind.
A year ago, when Xie Zheng heard the rumors and began reinvestigating the Jinzhou case, Wei Yan had indeed set a deadly trap, intending for him to perish in the rebellion suppression at Chongzhou.
The mother he had both resented and missed for over a decade had actually died for him. Xie Zhong had no idea how much pain this revelation would inflict upon the young man before him, who had shouldered the fate of the Xie family with his slender shoulders since adolescence.
Knowing Xie Zheng’s temperament, Xie Zhong found himself at a loss for words of comfort. After clasping his hands in a bow, he finally withdrew.
The vast corridor was now empty, leaving Xie Zheng alone. The cold wind picked up again, driving the fine rain sideways into the covered walkway, brushing against his pale face and leaving only a chilling dampness.
Leaning against a pillar, Xie Zheng lifted one leg and sat on the wooden railing. His long, dark lashes lowered like a fan as he stared unblinkingly at the bamboo leaves in the distance, where rainwater had gathered until it could no longer hold and dripped from the tips.
He tried hard to recall, but he still couldn’t remember that woman’s face. In his mind, there was only a faint shadow of her smiling gently, as though no sin in this world was beyond her forgiveness.
Yet the last memory she left him was standing at the doorway, watching the hem of her skirt swaying in the air from inside the room.
This scene had tormented him through countless nights, jolting him awake in cold sweat from nightmares.
He had hated her for her weakness and selfishness, but she had gone to her death to protect him.
The cold wind blew strands of hair across his eyelids. Xie Zheng tilted his head slightly, raising a hand to cover his eyes. He remained motionless in that position for a long time.
Wei Mansion
The autumn rain seemed intent on washing away all the filth of the world.
Before the grand gates of Wei Mansion, two lanterns burned, their glow hidden within the thick shadows of the parasol trees like a pair of crimson beastly eyes.
In front of the study window, wild chrysanthemums stood defiantly against the cold wind and mournful rain, their slender stems stubbornly supporting unopened buds—whether out of pride or sheer obstinacy, it was hard to say.
The entire court knew Wei Yan loved chrysanthemums, yet he disdained rare and precious varieties, favoring instead the wild chrysanthemums that grew freely across mountains and fields.
Throughout the Prime Minister’s residence, these wildflowers flourished in abundance, their aggressive growth often overwhelming other plants in the gardens if the servants neglected their care even slightly.
A pool of warm lamplight spread across the desk as the elderly man, his frame still robust despite the chill of the rainy night, reviewed documents in nothing but a thin robe.
Kneeling below, a man drenched in cold sweat reported the day’s events:
“...Two groups attempted a prison break. After years of searching for the Tiger Tally of Xunchang to no avail, it turns out Zhu Youchang had sewn it into his severed leg. When the first group helped him escape, they were intercepted by the Tian-ranked operatives. Unable to move quickly due to his legs, Zhu feared holding them back. He picked up a dagger, cut open his own flesh, and retrieved the Tiger Tally for them...”"Later, another group arrived. Judging by their martial arts style, they must have been from the Xie family. They took advantage of the Tian-ranked warriors chasing the previous group who had stolen the Tiger Tally and rescued Zhu Youchang..."
The old man’s brush never paused. The ink strokes, illuminated by the dim candlelight, were bold and powerful—each hook and stroke as unyielding as tempered iron.
At the time, people admired cursive script, while those in officialdom prided themselves on mastering the refined Taige style. Yet Wei Yan was renowned for his Shoujin calligraphy.
His writing mirrored the man himself—lean, sinewy, and unbreakable.
Hearing no response from the old man, the kneeling man below felt cold sweat gather on his brow, growing heavier with each passing moment of silence. When the unknown terror reached its peak, he kowtowed heavily before the desk, pressing his forehead against the icy floor tiles, and said in a trembling voice, "I beg the Prime Minister’s punishment!"
The old man finally set down his brush and cast a faint glance downward. "Go to the punishment chamber yourself."
For the Martial Assassins raised in Wei Mansion, a single visit to the punishment chamber was akin to losing half one’s life. Yet upon hearing these words, the kneeling man felt only the wild relief of having narrowly escaped death.
After kowtowing once more to the old man, he silently withdrew from the study.
A servant stepped forward to clean the ink brush and murmured, "My Lord, the events of that year... I fear they can no longer be concealed."
Wei Yan rose and paced to the window, letting the cold wind fill his sleeves, making them billow noisily. The flickering candlelight stretched his shadow unnaturally long, like a towering mountain.
Gazing at the wild chrysanthemums swaying in the desolate courtyard rain, he said, "Send word to the palace. It is time for the Western Expedition army to enter the capital and receive their honors."
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