Mingyue said, "Your Highness, today both Grand Secretary Wang and Chancellor Qiu sent people to the Eighth Prince's residence. They stayed for a full hour before leaving—this is the second time."
Xuan Pei responded with an indifferent "Hmm," continuing to dip his brush in ink as he practiced his calligraphy. Mingyue and Chaoyang exchanged glances. Although palace maids shouldn't discuss their masters' affairs, Mingyue had been assigned by Xiao Shao to assist Xuan Pei, while Chaoyang was a seasoned veteran in the palace. The struggle for succession wasn't merely a contest between two princes—it was a battle between two factions. If one side lost, so too would those who supported them. Such conflicts often ended in rivers of blood, with all the sacrifice and cruelty serving only to secure that single, coveted position. As Xuan Pei's attendants, they knew a confrontation with Xuan Li was inevitable. What they needed now was to strengthen their position before that day arrived. Xuan Pei's detached attitude might make him seem unreliable to outsiders, unworthy of loyalty. Compared to Xuan Li's vast network of retainers and advisors, Xuan Pei's approach to recruiting talent... Well, it could hardly be called an approach. He never actively sought out talent—people were free to join him if they wished, or not. No pressure.
Take Grand Secretary Wang and Chancellor Qiu, for example. They had once quietly supported Xuan Pei. But now, with the Emperor showing indifference to both princes, Xuan Li's faction was growing stronger while Xuan Pei remained inactive, never offering incentives to those who came to him. Over time, many drifted away. Grand Secretary Wang and Chancellor Qiu represented a significant faction, and their apparent defection to Xuan Li was a major loss. Yet Xuan Pei still showed no concern as his supporters dwindled.
"Your Highness," Chaoyang said anxiously, "Grand Secretary Wang and Chancellor Qiu were your allies, yet they've abandoned you so easily. This is truly ungrateful."
Xuan Pei merely smiled, unmoved. Mingyue, though equally puzzled, knew this young man was far from foolish—his cunning and patience exceeded ordinary expectations. There had to be a reason for his actions. "Your Highness doesn't seem worried at all," she observed.
Finally finishing the last stroke of his calligraphy, Xuan Pei set down his brush and exhaled deeply before turning to Mingyue. "What are your doubts?"
Xuan Pei treated her more sternly than Chaoyang—because she was Xiao Shao's subordinate—but also relied on her more, as she was capable and efficient in handling tasks. Hearing his question, Mingyue knelt and said, "This servant doesn't understand why Your Highness doesn't actively recruit talent or offer incentives to those who seek your patronage. Nor do I understand why, at this critical juncture, with the Eighth Prince making frequent moves, Your Highness remains inactive, staying only in your quarters."
"You ask too many questions," Xuan Pei replied slowly, toying with the ring on his finger. Suddenly, he smiled. "But today, I'm in a good mood, so I'll answer you. Though it's truly eye-opening that Xiao Shao's people don't even grasp such basics." Xuan Pei never missed a chance to mock Xiao Shao. Mingyue, accustomed to his jabs, took it as childish rivalry and paid it no mind.Xuan Pei observed Mingyue's unchanged expression, noting she showed no signs of irritation. Feeling somewhat bored himself, he cleared his throat and said, "True talent isn’t something you actively recruit. Do you think the people I need most to stand against Xuan Li are merely talented individuals?"
Mingyue remained silent. In any era, whether in a struggle for succession or not, a wise ruler would always seek to recruit capable and virtuous people. Talented individuals were naturally the ones rulers competed for. Yet Xuan Pei smiled faintly and said, "Wrong. The reason talented individuals are considered as such is because they are recognized by wise rulers. This isn’t an era of peace and prosperity, nor is it a time of governance. This is a life-and-death struggle, a high-stakes gamble where one misstep could mean total loss. I believe talent is important, but it pales in comparison to ambition."
"Ambition?" Mingyue blurted out.
"Ambition." Xuan Pei sat in his chair. His frail, underdeveloped frame looked somewhat awkward in the oversized seat, yet the long sleeves and robe cascading to the floor exuded an air of languid ease. For a moment, Mingyue felt dazed, as if the figure before her wasn’t a boy not yet of age but a mature and astute man.
"A scrawny, starving wolf and a well-trained hound," Xuan Pei said calmly. "In peaceful times where there’s no need to fight, a clever hound is certainly preferable. But when it comes to plundering and killing, a starving wolf would be far more useful. What you call talent is the hound, while those with ambition are the wolves. What I face is a battle of life and death, a bloody brawl where the fiercer one is, the more advantageous it is for me. You can lure a hound with meat, but you can never lure a starving wolf the same way—because what it wants is to see its opponent dead."
Mingyue was silent for a while before asking, "A starving wolf may be fierce, but in time, its savage instincts may turn against its master."
"There won’t be such an opportunity," Xuan Pei replied.
Mingyue froze as Xuan Pei’s voice drifted down from above her: "Once the prey is dead, the starving wolf is no longer necessary. Naturally, you find an opportunity to kill it."
Hearing this, Mingyue couldn’t suppress a shudder. She hadn’t expected this young boy to be so ruthless, so casually speaking of discarding allies once they’d outlived their usefulness. Though the words were cruel and despicable, they were indeed the best foundation for an emperor’s path. That Xuan Pei possessed such boldness already surprised her, but his decisiveness was even more startling. Xuan Pei glanced at her dazed expression and added, "Ambition is only to be used against enemies. If someone covets what is mine, harbors ambition toward my possessions, then that ambition must be erased—permanently."
Zhaoyang stood far to the side, but she heard every word clearly. Her chest tightened, and she forced herself to suppress the unease rising within her. She had always known the Thirteenth Prince was no ordinary figure, but she hadn’t realized his intellect and methods had already reached the level of a future crown prince. His youth was no longer a weakness—it might even serve as the perfect disguise.
"Then why hasn’t Your Highness named a price?" Mingyue asked. "If there’s a price, wouldn’t it be easier to recruit those with ambition?"
"How do you compare my forces to Xuan Li’s?" Xuan Pei countered.Mingyue was momentarily stunned but quickly regained her composure. Knowing that Xuan Pei was a perceptive person, she saw no point in lying and answered honestly, "The Eighth Prince's influence is stronger."
"That's right. His influence is stronger. I set a price, and once he knows it, he'll naturally raise it slightly. With his power, he can easily do that. Those tempted by my price will surely follow when they see a higher one. On the contrary, isn't it better to keep them waiting, to let them think of it as a priceless treasure?" Xuan Pei smiled faintly. "Let them never know their true worth, always holding onto hope for the future. Then they'll work even harder. These people, bought by the idea of a priceless treasure, are ones Xuan Li could never win over with tangible rewards."
Mingyue listened, half-understanding, as Xuan Pei continued, "You think Xuan Li's growing number of followers is a good thing for him?"
Mingyue nodded, then shook her head.
"The same stakes divided between two people yield much greater benefits than when divided among ten. Xuan Li may have many followers, but the more there are, the smaller each person's share of the credit when he achieves his goal. In contrast, I have fewer followers. If I succeed, each will gain much greater rewards. In other words, those standing behind me are driven by the promise of substantial gains—people who would never be swayed by Xuan Li's petty incentives. Because there is no fixed price, they are spurred by their own efforts, gambling with high stakes. Have you ever seen someone quit halfway through a bet? Usually not. Every one of my followers has a gambler's mindset, making them the most steadfast allies."
Mingyue felt as if a veil had been lifted from her eyes, yet she was still somewhat astonished and puzzled. She looked at Xuan Pei and said, "But Grand Tutor Wang and Chancellor Qiu..."
"Those are people driven by small gains. Even if they don't leave today, they'll eventually turn against me for immediate benefits. It's better to cut them loose early. Such short-sighted individuals—I believe even Xuan Li would find them unpleasant to deal with." Xuan Pei suddenly thought of something and smiled again. "Besides, do you really think Xuan Li's growing number of followers is a good thing? I imagine our father, the Emperor, is seething with anger in the palace. The wrath of the Son of Heaven is not something just anyone can endure."
"His Majesty..." Mingyue was startled. The Emperor had seemed indifferent to both princes lately, offering no clear stance on the matter of changing the Crown Prince. Could he still be watching this closely in secret?
After a moment's thought, Mingyue said, "Since His Majesty is paying attention, and given the recent incident in Qing'an County where Your Highness faced widespread censure—Eunuch Li hinted that the memorials of impeachment keep coming, and the Emperor is furious—it seems His Majesty harbors some displeasure toward you. Should we find a way to refute these accusations or seize an opportunity to impeach the Eighth Prince instead?"Before Xuan Hua was born, the Emperor had a period where he highly valued Xuan Pei. Whenever there were major court affairs, he would tentatively seek Xuan Pei's opinion. When the snow disaster in Qing'an County was severe, the Emperor consulted Xuan Pei, who submitted a memorial on managing the disaster. The memorial was conventional, with some novel points, but not overly brilliant. In the end, the Emperor adopted it. However, news recently arrived from Qing'an County that Xuan Pei's methods had not been very effective. Seizing this opportunity, the Eighth Prince's followers immediately began to impeach Xuan Pei, accusing him of being young and frivolous, treating serious livelihood matters as a joke. Among the ministers were seasoned officials who had served the Emperor for years, each memorial written with profound indignation, as if Xuan Pei had committed some unforgivable crime. With so many impeachment memorials, it inevitably left a negative impression on the Emperor. Mingyue, thinking of this, still felt uneasy.
"Arrange for a few people—those under my command—to submit memorials as well," Xuan Pei said nonchalantly, shaking his sleeve.
"Are we to impeach the Eighth Prince too?" Chaoyang couldn't help but ask, her expression brightening. In her view, the Eighth Prince's followers had acted despicably by kicking someone when they were down, and they deserved a fierce counterattack. To her surprise, Xuan Pei shook his head and said, "Impeach me."
"What?" Chaoyang exclaimed, then quickly realized her impropriety and knelt to beg forgiveness. Mingyue also frowned, unable to understand Xuan Pei's reasoning.
Xuan Pei smiled faintly and slowly moved his lips. Mingyue froze, then felt a chill run through her. She looked up again at the young man seated before her. Half of his body was sunk into the soft cushions as he lazily propped his chin on his hand. The sunlight outside the window dimmed at just the right moment, casting half of his figure into shadow, like a silent statue—solid and imposing, as if seated high upon a throne behind layers of curtains and glazed tiles, a lonely and ruthless ruler.
A true emperor.
He said with a smile, "Everyone leans toward Xuan Li. Let him see whose empire this truly is."
……
The sun soon dipped westward, and the early spring night fell quickly. Before long, darkness had settled. Jiang Ruan and Qi Feng left the small shop by the street and began their journey back to the palace. Perhaps it was because Jiang Ruan hadn't ventured out in a long time, or perhaps because Qi Feng was naturally a witty companion, but the two had enjoyed each other's company immensely. Not only had they visited the Treasure Exchange Pavilion, but they had also browsed other shops along the way. They even stopped by the shops Xuan Pei had gifted her during the grand wedding. Jiang Ruan had no ulterior motives—though Xuan Pei had given her these properties, she didn’t need the income. She merely intended to manage them well and return them to him someday. Whether Xuan Pei ascended the throne or not, his circumstances dictated that he needed these resources more than she did. In Jiang Ruan's eyes, Xuan Pei would always be her child.After visiting the shops with Qi Feng and buying some items, they even ate at an outside eatery before returning. By the time they reached the mansion gates, it was already quite late. Qi Feng was carrying an armful of miscellaneous items—all things Jiang Ruan had purchased that day. To avoid suspicion, they hadn’t taken a carriage, and Jiang Ruan, unusually high-spirited, had bought quite a lot. It had to be said that shopping without worrying about money was truly satisfying. As a result, all the heavy lifting fell to Qi Feng, who was now laden with packages. At the mansion gates, Jiang Ruan finally smiled and said, "Let me take those. You’ve worked hard today."
Qi Feng gave a wry smile. "Not at all. If Third Sister-in-law orders it, I wouldn’t dare refuse even if it meant working like an ox or a horse. If I didn’t do it, I’d get scolded by Third Brother later anyway."
Jiang Ruan froze. Qi Feng also realized he had misspoken and stood there awkwardly. Jiang Ruan reached out to take the items from him, but her foot slipped. Qi Feng hurried to steady her, and the packages clattered to the ground. He managed to catch her, gripping her hand, but as he looked at the woman so close to him, his mind momentarily blanked.
His departure these past days had been nothing but an escape—an attempt to prevent himself from sinking deeper. Jiang Ruan could act with effortless ease, but he couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried. This close contact left him momentarily dazed. What was an innocent accident appeared far too intimate in the eyes of others.
Just then, a familiar voice called out, "The young master has returned!" The mansion gates creaked open, and Butler Lin’s head popped out. He was startled to see Jiang Ruan and Qi Feng there, but perhaps what shocked him more was their posture. Jiang Ruan looked up and saw Xiao Shao standing a few paces away, silently watching them. The dim light of the lanterns swaying at the gates cast his expression in shadow, making it hard to discern. Qi Feng took a step back and chuckled, "Third Sister-in-law, be more careful next time. Well, since Third Brother is back, I’ll take my leave." With that, he waved casually and turned to go.
Jiang Ruan glanced at Xiao Shao. Butler Lin stood stiffly, so she simply pushed the door open and walked inside. As she passed him, she said, "Please gather the things and send them to my room. Thank you, Butler Lin."
Only after Jiang Ruan had left did Butler Lin order the servants to pick up the scattered items. He was about to approach Xiao Shao to smooth things over when Xiao Shao brushed past him without a word, his chilling aura unmistakable. This wasn’t the cold of the winter night—Butler Lin shivered, nearly at a loss for words. What on earth had happened? The usually aloof young mistress and Qi Feng acting so familiar? And Qi Feng—hadn’t he heard the saying about not coveting a friend’s wife? No, no, Qi Feng was the master’s senior brother; he wouldn’t do something so heartless. It must be a misunderstanding. But damn it all, why did they have to be seen like this?This was the first time the couple had encountered each other at night since their cold war. Usually, when Xiao Shao went out during the day and returned in the evening, Jiang Ruan had already retired for the night, leaving no opportunity for conversation. Who would have thought Xiao Shao would return so early today? After freshening up, Jiang Ruan did not see Xiao Shao in their room. She asked Tianzhu, who told her Xiao Shao was in the study.
These past few days, it was unclear what Xiao Shao had been busy with. It was possible he genuinely had matters to attend to in the study, but given the events of the day, his retreat to the study at this hour seemed rather odd. Perhaps he was sulking. Under normal circumstances, Jiang Ruan might have found this side of Xiao Shao somewhat endearing. However, after the incident involving Jin Er and Luzhu, she couldn’t help but suspect that Xiao Shao didn’t trust her. No woman could tolerate her husband doubting her, especially when it came to her virtue. Jiang Ruan, stubborn by nature, merely gave a noncommittal hum and went to bed alone, with no intention of seeking him out in the study for a talk. Meanwhile, Butler Lin, who had been waiting outside the room full of hope for a reconciliation and the return of harmonious affection, ended up standing guard all night in vain.
...
That night, in the Yao family mansion in the capital, behind layers of heavy curtains and amidst the hazy bamboo groves, a melodious tune drifted from the courtyard of the Yao family’s young mistress. Every detail of the courtyard was exquisitely adorned, each element a testament to refined elegance—even the sculpted koi by the pond were crafted with lifelike precision. The courtyard was designed by Yao Niannian herself, and Lord Yao, demanding nothing short of perfection from the artisans, had ensured its breathtaking beauty. This also subtly revealed how Yao Niannian was undoubtedly the apple of Governor Yao’s eye, given the extravagance lavished upon her to fulfill her desires.
The music resonating through the courtyard was a fitting complement to its scenery. Yao Niannian was exceptionally clever and well-versed in the arts of qin (zither), chess, calligraphy, and painting, though not necessarily a master of any. If Jiang Susu had been the capital’s celebrated talented maiden, Yao Niannian was regarded as the wisest woman in people’s hearts. The wisest woman might not excel in the arts, yet somehow, her music commanded more respect than that of the so-called talented maiden.
Two maids standing far outside whispered among themselves:
“This melody is so beautiful—why haven’t we heard the young mistress play it before?”
“Silly,” the other maid replied softly, “it must be her own composition. Our young mistress has always been brilliant. If this tune were heard outside, I daresay even the title of the capital’s top qin maiden would have to be relinquished.”
“What nonsense are you spouting? How could that qin maiden compare to our young mistress?” the shorter maid chided. “Lately, the young mistress has been playing in the courtyard more often. I wonder why—could it be…?” She suddenly stopped, her expression betraying a hint of unease.
In the pavilion at the center of the courtyard, a woman’s long sleeves fluttered gracefully, the fine embroidery on her robes shimmering with intricate patterns. Her slender fingers danced across the qin strings, the notes cascading like a clear spring, both delightful to the ear and stirring to the heart.A moment later, the song came to an end, but Yao Niannian did not withdraw her hands. Her fair, jade-like fingers still rested on the strings. Her features were delicate, yet her eyes held something indescribable, as if they could pierce straight into one's heart. The corners of her lips curled slightly as she gazed at the strings before her, though it seemed her thoughts were elsewhere. Among the remnants of ashes on the ground were discarded practice sheets—Yao Niannian had always demanded perfection from herself. Yet within those ashes, there seemed to be something else, unfamiliar characters mingling with the embers, vanishing into nothingness along with the flames, leaving no trace behind.
Yao Niannian spoke slowly, as if murmuring to herself or to someone unseen: "A heart like stone, a heart like stone—when two stones collide, both are shattered. Jiang Ruan, the one who tries to guess hearts?" Her smile gradually took on a scornful edge. "What a joke."
There are indeed people in this world who can manipulate hearts and minds. Initially, I thought that since Jiang Ruan had quite a reputation, she must have something special about her. But now it seems it was just a case of misinformation—that woman is utterly defenseless and truly not worth fearing. The human heart harbors many dark corners, perhaps harmless in small doses, but when those shadows are magnified indefinitely, given the right opportunity, they can lead to irreversible mistakes.
"The bait is cast, and the small fry has taken it," Yao Niannian murmured, lightly running her fingers over the strings of the qin. But as she reached the last string, she abruptly applied force, causing it to emit a sharp twang before snapping. Unhurried, she picked up the broken string and smiled faintly. "It's time to begin."
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