It was a rare day without snow, the sun warm and comforting.
Fan Changyu stood outside the palace gate, hugging her sword, watching the bare branches stretching freely beyond the courtyard wall. The slanting sunlight cast its glow here, while the distant walls and withered branches were still covered in a layer of white snow. The sunlight sprinkled over them, creating a faint golden hue, yet the air remained bitingly damp and cold.
Yu Qianqian carried a soup tureen into the inner chamber.
Qi Min seemed to have known she would come today. Unable to rise due to his injuries, he merely leaned against the couch, draped in a deep purple outer robe with silver-gray accents. In the light by the window, the silver-gray patterns faintly revealed auspicious clouds and ruyi motifs.
His hair appeared neatly groomed as well. Despite days of bedridden convalescence, it was not unkempt but remained as lustrous and black as ever, like satin.
Only his figure had grown much thinner, to the point where his clothes seemed to hang loosely on him.
Yu Qianqian glanced at him briefly before averting her gaze and stepping forward with the tureen.
Qi Min heard her footsteps but did not turn around. Instead, he watched two birds foraging in the snow-melted courtyard outside the window. His hand, resting on the quilt, absently rubbed the thumb ring on his finger. His fingers were long and slender, like bamboo joints, yet pale and emaciated to an alarming degree—one might worry that if he gripped anything with even slight force, his knuckles might snap under the strain.
No one spoke. The only sound was the faint clink of Yu Qianqian setting down the tureen and ladling soup into a delicate porcelain bowl.
"I thought you wouldn’t come," he said.
Yu Qianqian turned from the table with the bowl in hand and found him watching her, his gaze as dark and brooding as ever—like a vulture perched on a cliff or a venomous snake emerging from hibernation to hunt.
The corners of her lips curved into a gentle smile, but her eyes remained clear and unflinching as she met his gaze. "I had to see you off on this final journey myself."
Qi Min’s eyes shifted to the bowl in her hand, his dark pupils swirling with unreadable emotions. "How thoughtful of you to prepare snow frog soup. You’ve gone to great lengths."
Yu Qianqian smiled. "Even condemned prisoners get a last meal before execution, don’t they?"
Her words were sharp, her smile not reaching her eyes.
Qi Min studied her quietly. "I never knew you had such a sharp tongue."
She feared pain, trouble, and death—always obedient, seemingly docile and without a will of her own. Yet beneath that facade lay an untamed heart, which was why she had attempted escape time and again.
Each time she was caught, she never descended into hysteria. She ate, drank, and slept as usual, never doing anything to make her suffering worse. She endured every punishment he dealt, giving the impression of submission—only to flee again at the next opportunity.
But this radiant, defiant side of her was something he had never seen before.
Yu Qianqian stirred the soup with a spoon. "There’s much you don’t know."
Unwilling to waste more words, she cut to the chase: "You harbor such hatred for the Sui family. Yet the Crown Princess once used a fire in the Eastern Palace to turn you into the eldest son of the Sui family. Why?"
Qi Min remained silent, as if struck by how coldly unfamiliar she seemed.
Yu Qianqian met his gaze evenly. "This kingdom belongs to your Qi family. It was your father who died in Jinzhou back then. Now that you’re condemning the Sui and Wei families, surely you don’t intend to keep shielding your enemies?"Hearing the faint mockery in her tone, Qi Min studied her for a moment longer before shifting his gaze away and speaking slowly, "Among the Shadow Guards my father left me, there was one named Fu Qing—a survivor who escaped from Jinzhou City back then. When reinforcements and provisions failed to arrive, my father sent him to Chongzhou to seek aid. Sui Tuo refused to dispatch troops and even attempted to have him shot dead with arrows, declaring that once Jinzhou fell, this empire would bear the surname Wei."
A subtle ripple of emotion crossed Yu Qianqian's expression, but she remained silent. Qi Min continued recounting the hidden truths of those years in an utterly detached voice.
"Fu Qing was originally from the Green Forest outlaws, renowned for his lightness skill. Though he narrowly escaped the Changxin Prince Manor's massacre, he sustained severe injuries. While dragging his wounded body to seek help elsewhere, Jinzhou had already fallen—my father and Xie Linshan both died in battle. Knowing the situation was hopeless, he rushed back to the capital to deliver the news. By then, the capital was already under Wei Yan's control. My mother, then in the Eastern Palace, had heard rumors of Wei Yan's collusion with Shu Fei and the bloody purge of the palace. Fu Qing's testimony only deepened her terror."
"Later, the fall of Jinzhou was entirely blamed on General Meng Shuyuan of Changshan. When old members of the Meng family came to the Eastern Palace to plead for justice, they stepped through its gates only to become corpses in pools of blood. From daughters and sons-in-law to former retainers—the Meng family was exterminated."
At this point, Qi Min's lips curled into a smile full of mockery and coldness: "The Eastern Palace knew Wei Yan's secrets. He wouldn't let it survive. Before Wei Yan could strike, my mother hid me in the Changxin Prince Manor under the cover of a great fire."
This was the past that had weighed on him like a suffocating burden for over a decade.
He smiled faintly at Yu Qianqian. "You see, only by being utterly ruthless can one obtain everything they desire. My mother said Wei Yan had always been a wolf in ambition. Back when the Late Emperor favored the Sixteenth Prince and suppressed my father at every turn, all the Eastern Palace officials schemed to restore my father's favor and secure his position as Crown Prince. Only Wei Yan openly suggested making the Late Emperor 'abdicate.'"
He paused, a momentary daze crossing his features. "If we had eliminated Wei Yan then, perhaps none of this would have happened. My father was too indecisive—that's why he met such an end. What use is a reputation for virtue? I won't become someone like him."
Yu Qianqian said coldly, "What bullshit reasoning. You commit every atrocity imaginable and still try to justify yourself with grand excuses!"
Unfazed, Qi Min simply stared at her. "The way you curse is far more appealing than your former docility."
Yu Qianqian frowned sharply, the revolting sensation of an icy serpent coiling against her skin returning. She made no effort to hide her disgust: "Madman!"
Her seemingly frightened expression appeared to amuse Qi Min, drawing a low chuckle from him.
Annoyed, Yu Qianqian stood to leave. He stopped laughing and called out calmly, "The soup is ready. Feed it to me—don't waste your efforts."
Severely injured and unable to leave his bed, he required assistance for daily tasks. To prevent any mishaps, Xie Zheng had even ordered him dosed with bone-weakening powder, ensuring Yu Qianqian faced no danger meeting him alone.
She turned back to look at him. Propped against soft pillows, his expression was serene—as if unaware the soup contained lethal poison. His slender eyes caught fragments of sunlight, and against his pale, almost translucent skin, he momentarily took on a fragile, almost gentle quality.Seeing Yu Qianqian remain silent, he smiled at her again, deliberately provoking: "Can't bear to?"
Yu Qianqian sat back down and scooped a spoonful of the now-cooled snow frog soup from the bowl, bringing it to his lips.
Her expression was calm to the point of indifference, while his face revealed no emotion. As he tasted it, he even commented, "The simmering was well-timed, though it's a shame it's gone cold."
Yu Qianqian said nothing, merely scooping another spoonful to feed him.
He watched her, opening his mouth again to drink.
In this moment of tranquility, it didn't seem like one was trying to kill the other—more like a pair of devoted lovers.
When the bowl was empty, Qi Min asked with a smile, "Is there more?"
Yu Qianqian replied, "There's half a bowl left in the pot."
Qi Min then said, "Feed it all to me."
A faint smile still lingered at the corners of his lips, no longer sinister but tinged with a carefree air: "I won't get to drink it anymore."
Of course he wouldn't—what future did he have left?
Yu Qianqian's hand holding the spoon paused slightly before she simply said, "Wait."
By the time the remaining half-bowl of soup was finished, Qi Min leaned against the pillow, tilting his head slightly to look at Yu Qianqian. Suddenly, he said, "I've looked into you."
Yu Qianqian raised her eyes to meet his gaze.
He continued, "Your name isn't Qianqian. Your family was poor—you had an elder brother and three younger siblings. Your parents never gave you a proper name, always calling you Er Ya. You never worked at a tavern either. To pay for your brother's marriage, your family sold you to a trafficker. The Zhao Family bought you and sent you to me."
Yu Qianqian remained silent.
Perhaps the poison was taking effect—Qi Min's lips had begun to take on a faint purplish hue, yet his eyes stubbornly fixed on Yu Qianqian as he struggled to speak: "I want to know... who you are."
Yu Qianqian still didn't answer.
He mused aloud, "A wandering spirit? Or... perhaps a demon who's attained enlightenment?"
As his dark lashes lowered, a ripple finally stirred in his lifeless eyes: "Let me... die with clarity."
Yu Qianqian replied as calmly as still water: "The poison is affecting your memory. I am Yu Er Ya. Before my family sold me to the traffickers, I worked at a tavern. Qianqian is the name I gave myself."
She rose from the stool and even tucked the blanket around him: "You're tired. Sleep now. This poison is gentle—it won't be too painful. Once you fall asleep, you won't feel anything."
As she turned to leave, that pale, skeletal hand suddenly seized her wrist, yanking her off balance. Caught unprepared, Yu Qianqian stumbled and fell onto him.
Before she could call out, he forcefully clamped his hand around her throat. The dying man summoned unexpected strength, instantly choking off any sound from Yu Qianqian. She struggled to pry his arm away but couldn't budge it, her nails digging deep into the back of his hand. Yet he seemed oblivious to the pain, his eyes suddenly blazing with fury, his face twisted with hatred and resentment: "I prided myself on being ruthless, but I'm no match for you! You never loved me, did you?"
Yu Qianqian continued to struggle, her face flushing crimson from lack of air. Unable to break free, she clawed at the arrow wound on his chest.
Warm blood coated her fingers, and Qi Min groaned, loosening his grip on her throat.
Yu Qianqian collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath as she clutched her neck. At that moment, the door burst open—Fan Changyu, who had heard the commotion outside, rushed in: "Qianqian!"
She helped Yu Qianqian up, her gaze sharp as a blade as it pierced toward Qi Min.Yu Qianqian swiftly grabbed Fan Changyu's hand, saying only, "I'm fine."
Qi Min leaned against the soft pillow, clutching his chest. His gaunt face had turned a sickly gray from the poison, his teeth clenched tightly. His bloodshot eyes fixed on Yu Qianqian with an almost pitiful intensity: "You... how dare you treat me this way!"
Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, soon gushing out in torrents, staining his robes and the bedding crimson.
Yu Qianqian sat by the bed, calmly watching Qi Min. Her hair had come loose during the earlier struggle, and the flush from suffocation still lingered on her face, leaving her disheveled. Yet her expression remained icy: "Why shouldn't I treat you this way?"
"Someone like you—do you deserve anyone's affection?"
"You're selfish, cruel, vicious, and capricious. Everyone must serve you with utmost care, where the slightest mistake means death. And when you deign to give the smallest favor, you expect undying gratitude and devotion. Since when does the world work that way?"
Qi Min's mouth filled with blood, his eyes still locked onto Yu Qianqian, though he could no longer speak.
Yu Qianqian continued evenly, "Haven't enough people died for you? What have you ever done for them besides suspicion? You were just born lucky."
Qi Min stared at her unblinkingly, his gaze stubborn yet sorrowful.
But Yu Qianqian turned away, straightening up as she said to Fan Changyu, "Let's go."
Fan Changyu followed her out the door, about to speak when Yu Qianqian suddenly swayed on her feet. Changyu caught her just in time: "Qianqian, what's wrong?"
Yu Qianqian's face was pale, none of the composure she'd shown before Qi Min remaining. "It's nothing. I just need a moment."
Her hand gripping Fan Changyu's was ice-cold: "Poisoning someone... it's not the same as slaughtering chickens or fish."
Fan Changyu helped her sit on the steps, reassuring her, "The first time I killed someone, I was so scared I couldn't sleep all night. I'll bring Ning Niang to stay with you tonight. My hands are stained with enough blood—my aura alone would scare off any vengeful spirit, even if he was the imperial grandson."
The words sounded almost like comforting a child. Some of the shadows lifted from Yu Qianqian's heart, and she let out a soft laugh. "Right. Changyu, you're a general now."
Fan Changyu scratched her head, smiling sheepishly.
The sun warmed them, and gradually, the chill left Yu Qianqian's hands and feet. She glanced at the valiant woman beside her, perhaps stirred by the lingering emotions from Qi Min's final question. Suddenly, she said, "Changyu, I have a secret."
"Hmm?" Fan Changyu turned to her, sunlight bathing her figure, her eyes bright with a warmth that inspired trust and familiarity.
Yu Qianqian said, "I'll only tell you."
Fan Changyu blinked, then nodded solemnly. "I'll keep it safe."
Yu Qianqian gazed at the swallows darting high and low against the sunset, her expression distant, tinged with faint sorrow. "I came here from a place very, very far away. And I can never go back."
"How far?"
"If you started walking now, it would take thousands of years to reach it."
Fan Changyu gasped. "Then how did you come to Great Yin?"Yu Qianqian said, "I closed my eyes for a nap and woke up here."
Fan Changyu's expression turned slightly odd as she stared at Yu Qianqian for a long moment before suddenly saying, "Qianqian, are you an immortal?"
Yu Qianqian laughed again. "What kind of useless immortal would I be in this world?" She looked at Fan Changyu and added, "You seem more like an immortal than I do."
Caught off guard by the compliment, Fan Changyu felt a little shy and didn’t know how to respond.
Yu Qianqian continued, "In the place I come from, history also records a remarkable female general named Liangyu." She tilted her head toward Fan Changyu. "This place has its flaws, but with you and Bao'er here, it’s not so bad after all." Her smiling eyes curved. "A thousand years from now, Changyu will surely be a female general remembered in history."
—
In the winter of the seventeenth year of Yongping, Grand Tutor Li Xing and Chancellor Wei Yan plotted a rebellion. Li Xing died in battle, struck by stray arrows, while Wei Yan was captured alive.
A month later, Emperor Qi Sheng passed away from illness after being shocked by the palace upheaval. The descendants of the Chengde Crown Prince, who had been lost among the common people, were found. Though the coronation ceremony had yet to take place, they had already entered the palace with their birth mother, Lady Yu.
—
The dungeon.
Flickering candlelight cast two towering shadows against the walls, while flames roared in the braziers lining the prison corridor, crackling as the firewood burned.
Grand Tutor Tao sighed softly between moves on the chessboard. "That brat’s father died in Jinzhou. No matter what, he wants answers about what happened back then." His aged yet sharp eyes calmly studied the man across from him, who was a generation younger, and asked with the sigh of an elder, "Yigui, what do you gain by bearing this lifetime of infamy?"
Qi Min was dead, but a few of his Shadow Guards remained, including Fu Qingyi.
After Xie Zheng conducted his interrogation, the answers he obtained matched those Yu Qianqian had extracted.
Thus, the three Tiger Tallies found in the Sui family’s possession seemed to make sense.
—The Tiger Tallies were real, and the military deployment orders were genuine. The Sui family had followed Wei Yan’s command in refusing to send troops or supplies to aid Jinzhou.
But a new question now loomed: If the Sui family had colluded with Wei Yan, why did they later rebel, spreading only rumors about Wei Yan’s involvement in Jinzhou’s fall instead of directly exposing him?
No matter what others believed, Grand Tutor Tao refused to accept that Wei Yan had personally orchestrated the Jinzhou incident. Yet since his failed coup, Wei Yan seemed to have grown indifferent to life and death. He admitted to all charges but remained silent about the events of the past.
"The deaths of the Crown Prince and Linshan are my responsibility. I bear this infamy for no one else."
The oil lamp in the wall niche flickered with a dim yellow glow, casting shadows that split the chessboard into halves of light and darkness.
Wei Yan’s weathered fingers placed a black stone at the intersection of the board, his hoarse voice adding weight to his words, devoid of emotion.
Yet Grand Tutor Tao detected a hint of something deeper in his words and raised his wrinkled eyelids. "Because of what happened between you and that girl from the Qi family?"
Wei Yan looked at Grand Tutor Tao.
The old man knew then that this must be part of the reason. He sighed. "Both children went to question An Taifei. Back then, when you withdrew from the battlefield and stayed in the capital, did you really think this old man noticed nothing?"
Wei Yan remained silent for two breaths before saying only, "She was implicated because of me."
Grand Tutor Tao had visited the dungeon many times, each time failing to extract anything from Wei Yan. Today, however, the man seemed willing to speak more, so he pressed immediately, "What do you mean by that?"The charcoal in the clay stove burned fiercely, the water in the teapot bubbling and rolling, white steam billowing from the spout. The rising mist blurred Wei Yan's features.
For a fleeting moment, the powerful minister sitting across from Grand Tutor Tao seemed to revert to that cold, unyielding youth who had once shaken Jinyang with nothing but a single poem.
He closed his eyes. "In my youth, I lacked foresight and left behind a verbal disaster."
Grand Tutor Tao's gaze was stern yet kind, though his heart had already begun to sink slightly.
He had previously told Fan Changyu that Xie Zheng's temperament resembled Wei Yan's in his younger days, but that wasn't entirely accurate. Having lost his father early and been strictly disciplined by Wei Yan, Xie Zheng's nature was actually more steady.
In his youth, Wei Yan wasn't merely spirited—he could almost be described as arrogant.
The Wei family of Jinyang had enjoyed wealth and prestige for centuries, their descendants naturally carrying an extra measure of pride. As the most outstanding of his generation, Wei Yan's arrogance was even more pronounced.
At seventeen, he achieved the rank of tanhua (third-place scholar) in the imperial examinations, yet refused to immediately enter officialdom. Instead, he traveled to famous mountains and great rivers, declaring he would continue his studies while cultivating detachment from worldly affairs. Infuriated, the Wei family patriarch had him bound and sent to Old General Qi's military camp to temper his character. It was there he formed a deep friendship with Xie Linshan.
Suppressing the complexity in his heart, Grand Tutor Tao stroked his beard and asked slowly, "What disaster?"
"In the fifteenth year of Qishun, floods struck Jiangnan. The Crown Prince was sent to oversee relief efforts, but the Jia family obstructed him at every turn, delaying the distribution of grain and funds, resulting in over half the refugees perishing. The Late Emperor was furious—yet instead of punishing the Sixteenth Prince and the Jia family, he blamed the Crown Prince for ineffective disaster relief, confining him to three months of reflection and punishing all his subordinate officials. The Emperor's favoritism grew increasingly blatant, and rumors spread through the court that he intended to replace the Crown Prince with the Sixteenth Prince. The Crown Prince's honored guests strategized for him, and I was the one who suggested the Late Emperor should 'abdicate.'"
Even hearing these words again after so many years, Grand Tutor Tao's expression changed. He pointed at Wei Yan as if to say something, but ultimately only sighed. "You... what folly!"
Had those words reached the Late Emperor's ears, it would have meant catastrophe for both the Crown Prince and the entire Wei clan.
Yet Wei Yan said, "It wasn't folly—it was the Crown Prince's indecision."
His gaze was as sharp as a steel blade, the authority of one long accustomed to power radiating from him. His voice was cold: "Had he possessed the resolve to fight back then, with the combined strength of the Qi, Xie, and Wei families, what could have stopped us from placing him on that throne?"
Grand Tutor Tao shook his head. "You must consider the Crown Prince's position. No matter how much the Late Emperor favored the Sixteenth Prince, as long as he remained Crown Prince, that throne would ultimately be his. Suggesting the Late Emperor 'abdicate'—if it failed, it would mean total defeat."
Wei Yan asked, "And what did he gain by waiting?"
He let out a sudden, cold laugh. "Well, he got his wish—renowned for virtue, immortalized in history!"
Grand Tutor Tao detected the resentment and sarcasm in Wei Yan's words but could only sigh inwardly. Before ascending the throne, the Late Emperor had been weak and insignificant. It was only by marrying Empress Qi and relying on Old General Qi's support that he secured the throne.
But Old General Qi's prestige in the military was simply too great. Once the throne was secure, the Late Emperor grew wary of the Qi family. Yet the Qi clan had been loyal for generations, their descendants far from dissolute. Unable to find grounds to move against them, the Emperor instead showered favor on the Imperial Consort, allowing the Jia family to suppress the Qi family.
But how could those caught in the turmoil of those times have foreseen what would follow?
A trace of weariness entered Grand Tutor Tao's eyes. "At this point, there's no need for riddles between us. What truly happened back then?"The cold wind brushed past, making the flames in the wall niches flicker. Wei Yan's shadow cast upon the prison wall stood tall and unyielding, exuding an indescribable loneliness amidst its sternness, like a steadfast boulder on a cliff.
He remained silent for a long time before speaking: "It was my failure to recognize the true master, recklessly leaving behind dangerous words. I was also too trusting and lacked thorough planning, failing to prepare for all eventualities. As a result, those words reached the ears of the Late Emperor and the Jia family through the Crown Prince's honored guest, and I remained unaware."
Upon hearing this, Tao Taifu's heart skipped a beat. Behind Wei Yan stood the entire Jinyang Wei clan. Even if the Late Emperor had learned of Wei Yan's words, he wouldn't have acted immediately but would have grown increasingly wary, secretly laying his plans.
Sure enough, the next moment Wei Yan sneered and retorted to Tao Taifu: "With the Jinyang Wei clan behind me, how could they possibly convict me of a crime warranting the extermination of nine generations?"
Tao Taifu stood dumbfounded, speechless.
Wei Yan enunciated each word slowly, as if laden with immense hatred: "Naturally, by defiling the imperial harem."
The beard on Tao Taifu's chin trembled slightly, whether from suppressed anger or the absurdity of the matter. His eyes reflected both sorrow and complexity.
To convict Wei Yan of defiling the imperial harem, the Mid-Autumn banquet in the sixteenth year of Qishun shouldn't have caught him with just an ordinary palace maid...
The original plan must have been to frame him with Shu Fei!
Tao Taifu's lips quivered slightly, and in the end, he could only hoarsely mutter: "Absurd! Utterly absurd!"
He finally understood the source of Wei Yan's resentment toward the Crown Prince. While Wei Yan had indeed spoken carelessly, the Crown Prince, being indecisive, should have firmly controlled everyone who heard those words if he chose not to adopt the plan. That the words spread from the mouth of the Crown Prince's honored guest was a failure of governance on the Crown Prince's part.
Tao Taifu had almost pieced together the truth of that year's events and asked hoarsely: "Later, when Jinzhou fell... was it the Late Emperor?"
Wei Yan closed his eyes and nodded: "At the time, I thought the Mid-Autumn banquet disaster was merely because the Late Emperor resented my past connection with Rong Yin. I didn't realize it was the 'abdication' remark that brought it about."
"The Late Emperor suppressed the Crown Prince at every turn. The Crown Prince, not daring to oppose his father, sought to build a reputation for virtue among the people, gathering talented individuals. Unbeknownst to him, this only deepened the Late Emperor's wariness. Seeing the Crown Prince's popularity grow day by day, the Jia family devised a plan, urging the people to build a living shrine for the Crown Prince."
Tao Taifu knew of this incident. That year, the Late Emperor had flown into a rage in court, even publicly pelting the Crown Prince with memorials, angrily accusing him of harboring ambitions to usurp the throne.
The Sixteenth Prince and Jia Guifei's scheme was truly venomous. After this incident, the Crown Prince was immediately stripped of his supervisory powers over governance.
His sparse hair, held by a wooden hairpin, appeared grayish-white under the dim yellow light of the prison wall's oil lamp. He sighed deeply: "With the 'abdication' remark preceding it, and the Crown Prince amassing a virtuous reputation and gathering talents, even if the living shrine incident was orchestrated by the Sixteenth Prince's faction, the Late Emperor likely could no longer tolerate the Crown Prince. No wonder that year, the Late Emperor used this incident to severely punish all the Crown Prince's faction, forcing the Crown Prince to seek a way out by volunteering to go to Jinzhou, hoping to regain favor through military achievements."
Looking back now, the Crown Prince's decision to go to Jinzhou only added fuel to the fire!
In the Late Emperor's eyes, the Crown Prince was now openly seeking to grasp military power. With his popularity among the people already threatening to overshadow the emperor's, gaining prestige in the military would make the "abdication" remark a reality.
A faint mockery appeared in Wei Yan's eyes: "The Jia family's ambitions were no secret to the Late Emperor. But they were merely a hound he had raised to balance the Qi family's power. With the Crown Prince dead in Jinzhou, the Sixteenth Prince naturally couldn't survive either."
Tao Taifu's pupils contracted, shocked by these words.So... the Sixteenth Prince being trapped in Luocheng was also arranged by the Late Emperor?
Wei Yan looked at Grand Tutor Tao and said, "The Late Emperor only wanted obedient sons."
Grand Tutor Tao had sighed countless times already in this prison cell today. Whether from suppressed anger or the absurdity of it all, his eyes held both grief and complexity.
Since ancient times, the imperial family has been the most heartless!
Perhaps Chengde Crown Prince understood the Emperor's intentions too well back then, which was why he always remained an obedient son.
But once the Emperor's suspicion arose, and given that the Crown Prince was no incompetent, no amount of obedience could save him...
Grand Tutor Tao felt a heavy weight pressing on his chest, almost suffocating.
Outside, snow seemed to be falling again, a few flakes drifting in through the skylight.
Wei Yan placed another piece on the chessboard. "From the moment the Crown Prince went to Jinzhou and the Sixteenth Prince heeded slander to go to Luocheng, it was already a dead end."
"The Late Emperor used Rong Yin as leverage to force me back to the capital midway. The blame for the eventual defeat in Jinzhou could then be pinned entirely on me. With Old General Qi deceased and Xie Linshan, who took over the Qi family's military power, also dead, the Wei clan of Jinyang would be branded as traitorous subjects who framed the heir apparent and defiled the imperial harem. Wouldn't everyone then be justified in condemning us?"
"Leaving only the Jia family, who had thrived all these years solely due to his indulgence—what was there to fear? Any one of the accusations the censors had lodged against the Jia family over the years, if seriously pursued, would have ended their days of prosperity."
Grand Tutor Tao's face was etched with weariness, and he could no longer find words to say.
A snowflake, carried far by the wind, drifted slowly into the cup beside Wei Yan's hand, melting instantly.
The rippling water reflected his cold, desolate phoenix eyes: "Rong Yin's pregnancy pulse was fake. It was just a trap to lure me in and solidify my crime of defiling the imperial harem. She burned down Qingyuan Palace to help me escape, saying that as long as the Crown Prince remained alive and the Qi family stood strong, the Late Emperor wouldn't dare harm her."
A trace of bitterness crept into the corners of his lips, marked by the passage of time: "But I didn't know then that the Late Emperor had already made thorough plans for the Crown Prince to die in Jinzhou. Charging her with adultery to execute her and forcing me to return was the final step of his scheme."
"What happened afterward, Grand Tutor already knows."
"The imperial palace—I bathed it in blood. The false accusations against Meng Shuyuan—I pinned them on him. The Late Emperor's plan was indeed meticulous. After the Jinzhou incident, all the evidence pointed squarely at me. The first to push for my execution were Linshan's former subordinates."
Grand Tutor Tao's mouth was filled with bitterness. He finally understood why Wei Yan never spoke of those past events—there was simply no defense.
Chengde Crown Prince and Xie Linshan died in Jinzhou. Wei Yan had gone to mobilize troops but returned to the capital midway, then bloodied the imperial palace. Anyone hearing this would assume Wei Yan's guilt.
Moreover... given his temperament, he would never disclose the reason for his return to the capital.
In the end, it was his own guilty conscience that made him walk right into the Late Emperor's trap when Shu Fei was used as bait.
Grand Tutor Tao seemed to slump further, watching the snowflakes drift lazily through the skylight as he lamented with deep sorrow, "A national tragedy..."
A single remark about "abdication" had sown the seeds of disaster. The Crown Prince, gentle and kind, paid it no heed, but due to lax oversight, it reached the Late Emperor's ears—and thus the calamity began.
Looking back now at the schemes of those years, who is to blame?
Blame Wei Yan for leaving behind those fateful words? Blame the Crown Prince for failing to maintain discipline? Blame the Jia family for their poisonous plot with the living shrine? Or blame the Late Emperor for his ruthless cruelty?In the end, it was the convergence of all these events that ultimately led to the bloodshed in Jinzhou.
Later generations would desperately seek the truth, but this truth... was truly a scene of devastation and sorrow.
Compared to Grand Tutor Tao's desolation, Wei Yan's expression remained as cold and unyielding as ever: "I am not the Crown Prince. If someone seeks to kill me, I will strike first and eliminate them without hesitation."
"The Sui family has lived in hiding for so many years. I spared them only because, with Jinzhou fallen and the northern frontier undefended, we still needed an army to hold back the advancing Northern Turks. In the fifteenth year of Yongping, I finally forced the Sui family into rebellion. I had intended to send another to quell the revolt, but the Sui family leaked rumors about the truth behind the Jinzhou massacre to Xie Zheng first. Had he remained obedient and refrained from investigating the past, I would have honored Wan Mei's dying wish and spared his life. But since he chose to dig, and I have already slaughtered countless of his clansmen who sought the truth, one more makes no difference."
Grand Tutor Tao stood in silent despair, at a loss for words.
Wei Yan's gaze grew even colder and sharper: "On the day of the palace coup, had he not had a backup plan, his blood would have already stained the Meridian Gate. Now that I have fallen into his hands, it is simply the victor's justice—I accept my defeat."
With that, he closed his eyes. Even seated amidst the withered straw, his posture remained solitary and unshaken, as steadfast as a boulder.
Grand Tutor Li sat alone in silence for a long while before placing the final piece on the chessboard between them. Then, with great effort, he rose to his feet and said, "This game... is finally over..."
Flurries of snow drifted down from the courtyard above, settling in his hair until, in a daze, it seemed his head was crowned with white.
As he reached the corner, his trembling steps faltered slightly, and he spoke hoarsely to the young man who had been standing silently by the wall: "You heard everything?"
The bitter cold outside the prison had coated the eaves with icicles, their dim reflections casting a somber glow. The solitary figure by the window remained wordless, motionless.
The torchlight in the corridor illuminated only half of his pale, resolute jaw.
The past, crusted with blood, had finally been laid bare, and the truth dragged out was still dripping with gore.
Yet the child who had once been fostered in the Xie household, waking from nightmares drenched in blood, had long since walked through mountains of corpses and seas of blood. Now, his heart was as unyielding as iron, and no matter how harrowing the past laid before him, it could not shake the cold indifference in his eyes.
The fine snow drifting through the prison skylight had settled into a thin layer on the icy bricks in the corner. The bitter wind howled through the corridor, but the young man's sturdy frame, no longer frail, stood tall beneath his thin brocade robes—now strong enough to shoulder the weight of the world.
"Thank you, Teacher." His voice was cold and rough with disuse.
Xie Zheng bowed deeply to Grand Tutor Tao before turning to walk toward the prison exit, step by step, unhurried and unwavering, firm and resolute.
Grand Tutor Tao watched his solitary, unyielding figure recede into the distance, then turned back to glance toward Wei Yan's cell, his eyes filled with desolation. He sighed once more.
That old fox had deliberately spoken those words at the end.
For seventeen years, he had used himself as the whetstone, forging the sharpest blade in all of Great Yin.
Time flowed on, heroes turned to dust, and the blood-soaked tragedy of Jinzhou, when viewed now, was merely a chess game from the Qishun era. Generals, ministers, emperors, princes... all who had lived through it were but pieces on the board, each fighting for their own ends, carving out a broken land in their wake.
The last time Grand Tutor Tao had felt such overwhelming sorrow was when he had been overseeing the front lines, only to learn that his wife and child had perished under the blades of foreign invaders. Now, over a decade later, the grief in his heart ran even deeper.He staggered slowly toward the exit of the prison. At the stone window in the corner, he caught sight of a girl radiant as the sun dismounting from her horse. Smiling brightly, she stood and spoke to the young man emerging from the prison in desolation. The frost that seemed to cling to the young man gradually melted away as he took the reins from her hand, and the two walked side by side into the swirling snow.
A trace of warm kindness finally surfaced in Grand Tutor Tao's sorrowful eyes.
At least, that blade had found its scabbard.
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