Zhang San had been on the throne for several years now.
The clematis arranged in an SOS pattern bloomed year after year, while new waves of Imperial Concubine Candidates entered the palace.
Zhang San knew he couldn’t afford to leave behind an heir. Over these years, he had feigned madness and foolishness, openly and covertly opposing the Empress Dowager too many times. Her patience with him had long since worn thin. The moment a prince was born, his career as a puppet would come to an end—and the next day, he would "accidentally" fall to his death in a well.
Yet he couldn’t refuse the selection of concubines either, because he didn’t know which one among them might be her —his kindred spirit.
He had to sift through the beauties sent by the Empress Dowager to demand an heir, by Prince Duan to poison him, and by various factions to manipulate him, all in hopes of recognizing her .
Where was she? When would she appear? This obsession clung to him like the last breath of a dying man, forcing him to stagger forward.
He learned to observe their words and actions without revealing his thoughts, to probe subtly for information, to deflect bedroom affairs with tactical excuses, and to thwart assassinations with makeshift defenses.
Even among the Imperial Guards, spies had once infiltrated. After that, he stopped trusting others for protection. For months, he worked alone, constructing a pulley-controlled mechanism in his bedchamber. Pressing specific bricks hidden in the walls would trigger hidden arrows to shoot.
Sometimes, he would pause abruptly and wonder—even if he did find her, what then? He couldn’t help her, nor did he deserve her help.
The female lead was meant to seek out the male lead, and he was just the villain.
When he first transmigrated, he had naively dreamed of defying fate. Now, he could barely remember his own name or face. Was he Zhang San or Xiahou Dan? Was that so-called modern life just a dream he’d had as a child in the Imperial Study?
If the female lead saw him like this, she’d probably turn and flee.
Shan Yi entered the palace around that time. That year, the State of Yan sent her along with chests of jewels and fox furs. Her name was listed in the tribute records—first to perform a dance, then to attend the Emperor in bed.
Unlike the later exaggerated legends of her beauty that could topple cities, Shan Yi was called a "Beauty" back then simply because she had been granted the title. She was still very young, barely grown into her features, with only her enormous eyes standing out, blinking in a dazed and pitiful manner.
She bore some resemblance to the first life Zhang San had taken—that little maid.
Shan Yi barely spoke Mandarin and struggled to understand it. Zhang San, as usual, tested her with a few lines. She didn’t grasp his modern references and, thinking her poor Mandarin was to blame, tearfully begged for forgiveness, pleading not to be sent away—otherwise, the Yan officials would beat her.
Zhang San: "They won’t reach you here."
Shan Yi only continued pleading, gesturing as she said, "I must... sleep with you."
Zhang San: "..."
Amused, he replied, "Then lie down and sleep."
Shan Yi nodded blankly and obediently lay down.
The last person he’d met with such a simple mind had been his middle school classmate.
He turned over on his own.
Normally, his headaches and the presence of someone beside him made it hard to sleep. But that day, the scent of rouge on her seemed like the finest sleep-aid incense. For some reason, he grew drowsy and soon slipped into a light slumber.
—Only later would he learn that it had indeed been specially concocted for him.
What happened next was hazy in his memory.
Because before his mind could wake, his body had already moved first.When he struggled to open his eyes, the scent of rouge mingled with the heavy tang of iron. Shan Yi lay collapsed on top of him, her lifeless eyes wide open, clutching a dagger in her hand while a Hidden Arrow from a trap protruded from her back.
Moonlight poured through the carved window, drenching her body. Her hollow eyes still held a trace of bewilderment, as if she couldn’t comprehend how a monster that killed in dreams could truly exist.
Zhang San stared at her for a long time before laughing.
He shoved her corpse off the bed, then closed his eyes again, resting his head on the bloodstained moonlight.
She was the twenty-seventh person he had killed. He decided to stop counting.
It didn’t matter. They were all just Paper Dolls. All just Paper Dolls. All just Paper Dolls.
The morning after the Thousand Autumns Banquet, the streets of the capital were unusually lively.
Merchants and pedestrians hurried about, but their eyes kept flickering toward a few towering figures in the crowd, their gazes tinged with wariness.
Yan people.
Though they had come for peace talks, the shadow of years of war still lingered. Perhaps that was why these envoys seemed to radiate an unmistakable aura of danger.
Haqina walked with his head down, catching the strains of a song drifting from a nearby building. He snorted and muttered in the Yan tongue, "Too weak. Far inferior to the resonance of our own melodies..."
Beside him, the burly, bearded attendant suddenly raised an arm, halting him. "Wait."
Haqina looked up. A group of men was approaching.
They wore the garb of street vendors and laborers but carried themselves like thugs, brandishing makeshift weapons of scrap metal.
Their leader spoke first: "My brother says his stall was robbed. Was it you?"
Still seething from Lord Wang’s slander the night before, the Yan men’s eyes blazed with fury. "Proof?"
"Proof? Stand still and let us search you!" The man’s face twisted with malice as he reached out to grab at their clothes.
The Yan men had no patience for such insults. With a roar, they struck back.
But to their shock, their opponents moved with trained precision—nothing like ordinary ruffians.
Haqina had been disarmed upon entering the city. After exchanging a few bare-handed blows, a slash split his arm, blood gushing out.
His expression darkened.
This was a premeditated attack. These men were here to kill!
Instinctively, Haqina turned his head and shouted, "Lord—"
The bearded man silenced him with a gesture.
Haqina: "You go first. We’ll hold them off!"
Bearded man: "We retreat together."
Yan warriors never fled from a fight. Haqina thought he’d misheard. "What?"
Bearded man: "Run!"
Without another word, he dragged Haqina backward. Hidden weapons flew toward them, but the bearded man stepped in front, blocking them with his arms. The metallic clang from his sleeves revealed he wore Armor beneath.
Haqina glanced back—another group had silently blocked their escape.
The bearded man hauled him into a narrow alley. The remaining Yan men followed, humiliated, but their pursuers showed no sign of relenting, intent on wiping them out.
As they ran, the bearded man growled, "We can’t fight back. Kill even one, and they’ll pin a crime on us."
Haqina understood at last and cursed, "Treacherous Xia People!"
Unfamiliar with the terrain, the Yan men were soon herded into a dead end.Haqina leaned against the wall, staring at the dense crowd of pursuers, and said bitterly, "Even if we perish together, taking them all down won’t be a loss!"
The bearded man sighed, "It is a loss. The plan wasn’t completed."
Suddenly, a clear whistle sounded behind them.
The bearded man whipped around, glaring at the wall behind them. "There seems to be a path behind this wall. Let’s climb over."
The Yan people quickly used the narrow alley to block the pursuers while helping each other scale the high wall. Sure enough, there was a path on the other side. Without time to think, Haqina shielded the bearded man as they sprinted away, but the pursuers didn’t follow.
From the other side of the wall, faint shouts echoed, "Capture them all! Take them to the authorities!"
Haqina, still catching his breath, said, "Imperial troops are here."
The bearded man replied, "The ones trying to kill us were likely the Empress Dowager’s people. The imperial troops belong to the Emperor."
"Then what about the one who whistled earlier? Are they also the Emperor’s men?"
The bearded man narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps not. If they were the Emperor’s people, why wouldn’t they show themselves openly?"
Meanwhile, a small meeting was underway at Prince Duan’s residence.
The person who had whistled earlier knelt and reported, "That Haqina from the envoy group doesn’t seem to be the real leader. I understand some Yan language—just now, Haqina called that burly attendant ‘Prince.’"
Xiahou Bo mused, "Yan has many princes. But that beard of his looks suspicious, likely meant to conceal his face. Ordinary Yan people have never been seen by the Xia People in their lives—there’d be no need to hide. Since he’s disguised, he must be someone familiar."
The scout hesitated, "Your Highness means…?"
Xiahou Bo smiled faintly. "He must have faced the Xia People on the battlefield before. With skills like his, he’d certainly live up to the title of ‘Yan’s greatest warrior.’"
The scout gasped. "That man is Tuer?! But Tuer and Prince Yan are like fire and water—why would he serve as Prince Yan’s envoy? Wait, if he changed his name and appearance, did he come here secretly without Prince Yan’s knowledge?"
Xiahou Bo pondered. "Most likely, they pulled a switch, replacing the real envoy group. Prince Yan wants peace talks, but as for Tuer…"
His confidants quickly analyzed, "Rumors say he was childhood sweethearts with Shan Yi, who died years ago. Shan Yi died in the palace, but the Yan people denied the assassination charges and instead accused the Great Xia of killing her, using it as grounds for war."
"So Tuer genuinely hates the Emperor and decided to emulate Jing Ke?"
"But Jing Ke died after his attempt. Tuer has a bright future—why gamble his life?"
Xiahou Bo thought for a moment. "Do you think something happened within Yan?"
"Your Highness means… Tuer couldn’t stand against Prince Yan and had no place left in Yan, so he staked everything on coming to Great Xia to ruin his uncle’s plans?"
Xiahou Bo said leisurely, "Whatever the truth, this peace talk is eighty percent doomed. The Emperor is already isolated, and his best fighters are dead. If Tuer brought a group of assassins like Jing Ke and strikes suddenly, the Emperor won’t escape."
A confidant hesitated. "Should we… warn the Emperor?"
The moment he spoke, Xiahou Bo smiled at him. "Feeling charitable?"
The confidant immediately dropped to his knees in fear. "This subordinate only thinks of Your Highness! If Tuer really kills the Emperor, war between the two nations will erupt again…"Xiahou Bo gently helped him up: "That's true. I originally thought the same way. But it suddenly occurred to me that with Tuer's skills, if he accidentally killed the Empress Dowager while playing the role of Jing Ke, it wouldn't be too difficult, would it?"
The confidant was stunned.
"With no leader left, strong enemies outside, and the Crown Prince being too young, someone would have to act as regent to manage the situation." Prince Duan blinked. "As for the war, since I'm already aware, I can prepare in advance and won't be caught off guard by Yan's surprise attack."
The confidants fell silent.
A true villain. This man was a genuine villain.
The confidant said, "As expected of Your Highness, your foresight is unparalleled."
Xiahou Bo smiled. "So, there's no need to inform His Majesty. If necessary, we can even lend Tuer a hand. Next, we just need to ensure the Empress Dowager is present when they make their move."
"Come, drink." Yang Duojie shook the wine flask.
Li Yunxi downed a cup in one gulp: "Brother Yang, this vintage from your family is excellent. Then I won't stand on ceremony."
Yang Duojie said nothing, while Cen Jintian, sitting nearby, chuckled: "It's rare to see Brother Li drinking so heartily."
Li Yunxi: "..."
Though Li Yunxi had now secured an official position, having endured hard times for so long, he was rather frugal and would never buy wine for himself. It was only when visiting Yang Duojie that he indulged.
Teased by Cen Jintian, he wasn't angry but instead urged: "The three of us haven't gathered in so long. Brother Cen, have a cup too?"
Cen Jintian waved his pale hand: "No, no. I'd like to keep my life a few more days to tend the fields."
He didn't shy away from his illness, but Li Yunxi wasn't good with pleasantries and, slightly tipsy, was even more slow-witted. After stammering for a while, he finally managed: "You... you've been looking better lately."
Knowing his temperament well, Cen Jintian laughed at this: "Brother Li is too kind."
Yang Duojie: "Indeed."
Li Yunxi frowned and glared at him.
Yang Duojie: "What?"
Li Yunxi: "Since we met today, you haven't said more than ten words. I find it strange—weren't you always the most eloquent among us? Why so tight-lipped all of a sudden?"
Cen Jintian also asked: "Brother Yang seems to have lost weight. Has something happened?"
Yang Duojie downed a cup of wine himself and smiled bitterly: "Don't ask. I never want to speak again in this lifetime."
Half a flask later.
Yang Duojie: "You two got what you wanted in the Ministry of Revenue. Do you know what I do every day in the Imperial Observatory? Divination. Auspicious or ominous stars, fortunes and misfortunes, rise and fall—making up stories for people every day. Think you can just make it up? No! If some big shot wants a reading to be bad, it has to be bad, and it must be calculated with intricate steps, as if divining the will of the gods, and written so floridly it dazzles. Is my literary talent meant for this nonsense?"
Li Yunxi: "..."
Cen Jintian: "..."
Yang Duojie let out a drunken hiccup: "And that's not even the worst of it! Sometimes the Empress Dowager wants it bad, but His Majesty wants it good. The Observatory splits into factions, colleagues fencing with cryptic arguments like scholars debating scriptures. I revise drafts a thousand times a day, wearing out my brush, just to prove that damn turtle shell cracked to the left is a good omen! Alas, is there anything more tragic under heaven? Ten years of diligent study, talent enough to fill eight bushels, and in the end, I become a fortune-teller?!"
Li Yunxi: "..."
Cen Jintian couldn't help but laugh: "You know, it does suit you rather well."Yang Duojie was tall and pale, with two long, slender strands of beard that fluttered in the wind, giving him an air of celestial grace.
Li Yunxi slung an arm over his shoulder. "Taoist Master, take a look at my palmistry..."
Yang Duojie weakly snapped, "Get lost."
Li Yunxi laughed heartily before comforting him, "Didn’t His Majesty say it himself? Right now, we need those mystical writings of yours to intimidate people. In a little while, he’ll transfer you elsewhere."
Yang Duojie propped his forehead on his hand and murmured, "Let me ask something treasonous—do you two actually trust him?"
Cen Jintian, who had been the first to pledge loyalty to Xiahou Dan, nodded firmly without hesitation.
Li Yunxi fell silent for a moment. "He told me to keep compiling land registries from across the country, saying they’d be useful one day. That counts as an imperial promise, doesn’t it?"
Yang Duojie was stunned. "That’s not what you said when you first joined the Ministry of Revenue! And what about Er Lan, who’s climbed the ranks so effortlessly with his smooth-talking? You don’t resent him anymore?"
Li Yunxi looked slightly uncomfortable. "I don’t see him that way now."
Yang Duojie froze, then let out a bitter laugh. "So it’s just me still wavering."
"Brother Yang..."
Yang Duojie lowered his voice further. "Since our first encounter on the lake, we’ve seen the Emperor’s face several times now. Have you noticed? The way he looks at us sometimes... truly lives up to the title of 'Sage.'"
Like a gale sweeping over grass and trees—impartial, without joy or sorrow, as indifferent as heaven and earth.
The other two fell silent.
Yang Duojie escorted his guests to the door and, before bidding farewell, added a piece of news: "Director Zhang from the Ministry of Rites—you know him, right? We’ve been working together on the Thousand Autumns Banquet and have gotten quite close. Yesterday, he secretly told me that the Yan delegation was ambushed by bandits in the streets but managed to escape."
Li Yunxi turned back to look at him. "The Empress Dowager sent those 'bandits' to eliminate them, didn’t she?"
Yang Duojie: "Most likely. But then, His Majesty ordered the Ministry of Rites to visit their lodgings and formally apologize—made a grand show of it, too. They endured the Yan envoys’ cold shoulders and spent half the day soothing them with soft words."
Cen Jintian sighed. "That’s giving them an immense amount of face. His Majesty genuinely wants peace talks."
Yang Duojie: "Which is exactly why I’m even more confused. When he sent Brother Wang alone to Yan, I already had my doubts. Now Brother Wang is missing, likely dead, and His Majesty himself suspects these Yan envoys have ill intentions. Yet he still humbles himself to appease them. What is he thinking? Does he actually have a plan, or is this just an excuse to wrest power from the Empress Dowager?"
One final thought remained unspoken: Are we just pawns and mouthpieces in Xiahou Dan’s power struggle?
That night, Tuer woke with a gasp.
The beds in the Great Xia guesthouse were soft. Too soft—so much so that his limbs sank deep into them, making movement difficult. Perhaps that was why he had nightmares.
Tuer sat up and glanced at the guards seated on the floor by his bed. "What time is it?"
"Third watch," Haqina lit a lamp. "Prince, are you all right?"
Tuer got up to splash cold water on his face. On his way back, he glanced out the window.
In the darkness, many Imperial Guards still stood watch outside the guesthouse gates. Supposedly, the Emperor of Great Xia had sent extra men to protect them and prevent another attack by bandits.
Whether they were truly guards or spies, however, was another matter.
Haqina frowned. "With so many extra men, our plans..."Tuer remained calm. "Let's wait and see. This peace talk was privately facilitated by Xiahou Dan. He will meet with us eventually. We can act then."
But from Haqina's worried gaze, he could tell his own expression wasn't looking too good at the moment.
It must be because he dreamed of Shan Yi.
Irritated, Tuer shook his head, flinging off the water droplets. In the dim candlelight, his clean-shaven face revealed sharp, handsome features.
Tuer blew out the candle again and lay in the darkness, staring at the ceiling. "Do you think Zha Luo Wa Han has noticed?"
When he left Yan, he was supposedly still confined at home with no visitors. He had left behind a lookalike substitute. As long as Prince Yan Zha Luo Wa Han didn't summon him, no one would notice anything amiss.
Haqina replied, "No news has come. The king rarely saw you anyway. He probably hasn't noticed."
Tuer scoffed. "Right now, he's still eagerly awaiting the outcome of the peace talks, isn't he?"
His men let out muffled laughter, sounding like a pack of panting beasts.
Haqina laughed especially hard. "He's an old wolf with broken teeth, just waiting to die."
Tuer knew Haqina's father had been killed by Prince Yan. The men and women who followed him to Xia had either blood debts with the Xia People or deep grudges against Prince Yan, which was why they willingly embarked on this one-way journey.
And what about himself?
Given the choice, he didn’t actually want to be a despicable assassin. What he truly desired was to ride into battle, leading an army to storm the capital of Xia and behead the Emperor.
But Prince Yan had grown old and weak, no longer fit for war. Persuaded by envoys from Xia, he now sought to extinguish the flames of war with his own hands—and to eliminate the warriors who had fought for him.
"When the hares are killed, the hounds are boiled"—a saying Tuer had heard from the Xia People.
Back then, he hadn’t realized he was one of those hounds.
Zha Luo Wa Han hadn’t always been like this. He had once hated Xia with a passion, taking pleasure in torturing and killing the Xia People.
Tuer had heard rumors that when the Xia People shot out one of his eyes, they had also injured another part of him. That was why he had no children of his own, only a nephew like Tuer.
Zha Luo Wa Han wasn’t particularly affectionate toward Tuer, but he had dutifully taught him horsemanship and hunting.
As a young man, Tuer would return from hunts under the admiring gazes of girls, laying his spoils at his uncle’s feet: countless birds, four rabbits, two deer, and an old wolf.
Someone once flattered him, "The prince’s skills grow sharper by the day. Soon, he’ll be the greatest warrior in Yan!"
Tuer smiled and looked at his uncle, only to catch a fleeting flicker of displeasure on his face.
At the time, Tuer hadn’t understood the meaning behind that subtle expression. Even if he had, he wouldn’t have known how to respond with flattery.
So he bowed and left, oblivious, running over to Shan Yi, who was waiting for him. With a flourish, he produced a fresh, dewy flower and tucked it into her hair.
Unaware, he let the invisible rift between them widen day by day—until Prince Yan announced he would select a Holy maiden from among the nobility to be offered as a gift of peace to Xia.
Tuer stormed into his uncle’s chambers. "Why Shan Yi? You know she and I—"
Prince Yan replied with only one sentence: "Her status makes her the most suitable."Tuer turned over in the darkness and whispered, "Just endure a few more days. Don't make any mistakes."
Haqina replied, "Understood."
The Prince Duan faction held secret meetings through the night, burning through countless strands of hair as they discarded one plan after another. Their sole purpose was to ensure Tuer could not only successfully carry out the assassination but also take the Empress Dowager down with him.
Bringing together the Emperor, the Empress Dowager, and the Yan people at this moment was truly as difficult as scaling the heavens.
The Empress Dowager was locked in a fierce struggle with the Emperor and was still seeking an opportunity to kill the envoys. Given how openly she had broken decorum, even a fool of an emperor wouldn’t allow her near the envoy delegation.
Prince Duan had endured and bided his time for so many years, all for the sake of legitimacy—to rightfully ascend the throne. Thus, using the Yan people’s hands to eliminate two formidable rivals in one stroke was crucial to him.
His trusted aides agonized over countless strategies, pulling out their hair until they finally devised an astonishingly bold plan.
They reported their scheme to Xiahou Bo, who couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow in surprise. “Fortune favors the bold, indeed.”
The aide said, “This plan is indeed perilous, with many variables. I cannot guarantee its success. Perhaps… Consort Xie could divine the outcome?”
Xie Yong’er was actually quite famous within the Prince Duan faction.
Not only because of her tangled, ambiguous relationship with Prince Duan, but also because her ideas often seemed divinely inspired—bizarre yet uncannily accurate, as if she could foresee fate itself.
At the mention of her name, Xiahou Bo paused.
Consort Xie had miscarried on the night of the Thousand Autumns Banquet, and after the Empress Dowager and Emperor’s public altercation, the news had spread far and wide. The aides had their own suspicions about the father of her unborn child and couldn’t resist stealing glances at Prince Duan, eager to gauge his reaction.
Xiahou Bo summoned a spy. “How is Consort Xie faring in the palace?”
The spy replied, “After the miscarriage, she fell ill with fever and has yet to recover. The Emperor was furious, vowing to investigate the matter and purge the harem. He even sent guards to protect her while she recuperates.”
Though he claimed it was to “purge the harem,” given that no children had been born in the palace for years, everyone knew who was truly to blame.
The aides’ gossipy gazes grew even more intense, as if trying to determine whether the man they served possessed ordinary human emotions—joy, anger, sorrow, or happiness.
Xiahou Bo’s pause was slightly longer than usual, and a trace of concern flickered across his brow.
The aides inexplicably sighed in relief—until they heard him say, “With the miscarriage, no one would harm her now. Sending guards to protect her at this stage seems… suspicious.”
The aides: “…”
That’s your takeaway?
Is this man even human?
Xiahou Bo: “In any case, find a way to slip her a note. Tell her I wish to meet.”
At this very moment, Xie Yong’er had no idea she was at the center of such a storm.
She had been sleeping fitfully, and when she jolted awake, her mind was still foggy. Tears pooled in her eyes before spilling over, soaking into the pillow.
“Who did you dream of?” someone asked by the bedside.
Xie Yong’er turned her head groggily to see Xiahou Dan looking down at her.
“You kept apologizing,” Xiahou Dan remarked, his lips curling in mockery. “Did you dream of Prince Duan? Now that the child is gone, you feel guilty toward him?”
Xie Yong’er stared blankly at him. “No.”
Xiahou Dan: “Then who? Surely not me?”
Xie Yong’er came to her senses and clamped her mouth shut.
Xiahou Dan clicked his tongue. “Go on, tell me. It’s not like we’re still pretending now—you’re as good as dead anyway—”
“Alright, alright, I’ll take over.” Yu Wanyin peeked out from behind him and reached over to feel Xie Yong’er’s forehead, relieved. “The fever’s finally gone. The medical conditions in this ancient era are terrifying. How do you feel? Need some water?”
Xie Yong’er remained silent.
Yu Wanyin turned to push Xiahou Dan away. “You go first. Let me talk to her.”
Xiahou Dan was taken aback. “Why are you kicking me out?”Yu Wanyin kept signaling to him with her eyes: "It's fine, leave it to me."
She closed the door and returned to Xie Yong'er's side: "Still feeling unwell?"
Xie Yong'er struggled to prop herself up, leaning against the headboard as she forced herself to ask, "You don't need to play good cop bad cop with me. Just say it—what do you want from me?"
Yu Wanyin smiled: "Alright, I'll be direct then. Prince Duan sent a note in, asking to meet you tonight in that rundown house in the Secluded Palace."
Xie Yong'er closed her eyes and took a deep breath: "So you'll have to let me out tonight to see him."
"What, if we don't let you out, are you expecting him to storm in and rescue you?"
"No. If he notices anything unusual, I'll lose his trust, and then I’d be useless to you, right? The reason you're trying to win me over is to get information about him, isn't it?"
Yu Wanyin paused and muttered, "You're suddenly quite sharp now."
Xie Yong'er snapped, "I've always been sharp! I only lost to you because of information asymmetry—don't get that wrong!"
"Lost to me? That's not it. There was never anything between us to compete over."
"Now you're just saying nice-sounding—"
Yu Wanyin said seriously, "If we're being honest, didn't you lose to Prince Duan?"
Xie Yong'er: "..."
Yu Wanyin studied her pale face for a long moment before suddenly going to fetch a dressing case. "Turn around."
Xie Yong'er: "What for?"
"You have a date tonight, don't you? I'm going to do your hair and makeup." Yu Wanyin turned her by the shoulders so her back was facing her and picked up a comb to start styling her hair. "Girls' dorm gossip time—never experienced it?"
Xie Yong'er: "It's pointless. Don't try to play the emotional card with me."
Yu Wanyin ignored her and launched into gossip mode: "So you really dreamed about Xiahou Bo just now?"
Xie Yong'er pressed her lips together tightly, clearly opting for non-cooperation.
"That desperate?" Yu Wanyin shook her head repeatedly. "Do you remember you're a modern woman? He knew the Empress Dowager would force you to abort, yet he still got you pregnant. And you're apologizing to such a heartless, worthless man..."
Xie Yong'er couldn't hold back: "I told you it wasn't him."
"Then who? Definitely not Xiahou Dan either." Yu Wanyin frowned in thought before gasping in shock. "Wait—was it me? Have you finally realized how good I've been to you?"
Xie Yong'er: "..."
Yu Wanyin looked moved: "Sis, congrats on the epiphany, but no need to apologize. I'm a pretty magnanimous—"
Xie Yong'er couldn't take it anymore: "It was my mom."
"?"
Xie Yong'er lowered her head, still facing away. "Maybe it's because I found out about you two, but I dreamed about something from before we transmigrated. Right before coming here, I was arguing with her over something stupid and never got to apologize."
Yu Wanyin had initially approached this conversation as a strategic task, but now she paused in her actions.
Xie Yong'er had always spoken in an affected ancient tone before. This sudden candidness gave Yu Wanyin the first real sense that they were "the same kind."
After a moment, Yu Wanyin said, "Before I transmigrated, I actually called my mom. She asked when I was coming home, and I said I'd go on the weekend. She sounded all mysterious—maybe she'd learned to cook some new dish and wanted to make it for me."
Xie Yong'er lifted her head slightly.
But Yu Wanyin fell silent, the mood around her turning somber.Xie Yong'er asked, "Where are you from?"
Yu Wanyin's heart skipped a beat. Were the city names in Demon Consort the same as in the real world?
Continuing to comb her hair, she tentatively offered the most common one: "Beijing. What about you?"
Xie Yong'er replied, "City A. Where is Beijing?"
Yu Wanyin hesitated. "...A small county town. It's normal if you haven't heard of it—it's quite far from your place."
Xie Yong'er asked, "Oh? Is the street food there well-developed?"
Yu Wanyin wasn't actually from Beijing, but banking on the fact that Demon Consort wouldn't have mentioned it, she casually fibbed, "It's alright. Ever heard of douzhi? It's delicious."
Xie Yong'er indeed sounded regretful. "Never tried it."
"Then you've missed out on a lot."
As Yu Wanyin styled Xie Yong'er's hair, a grand scheme was slowly taking shape.
Before the scheme fully materialized, every pawn believed they were outside the game.
Take the Empress Dowager, for instance.
The Empress Dowager was trimming her beloved potted plant when her chief maid whispered, "Lord Mu Yun requests an audience."
This Mu Yun was a low-ranking official in the Empress Dowager faction, slightly stuttering in speech, appearing simple and honest, often mocked by his colleagues.
With the peace treaty signing just three days away, the Empress Dowager was frustrated at being unable to kill the Yan envoy delegation and snapped impatiently, "What could he possibly want?"
The chief maid said, "He claims to have a plan."
The Empress Dowager: "?"
Mu Yun entered, trembling. "This humble subject believes His Majesty is currently... protective of those Yan people, like a hen guarding her chicks. It would be unwise to confront them directly..."
The Empress Dowager snipped off a stray branch with a click . "Lord Mu, if you have a proposal, speak plainly."
Mu Yun grew even more nervous. "Bei... Bei... Bei..."
After stammering "Bei" for ages without finishing, the Empress Dowager had already figured it out herself, her eyes lighting up.
Mount Bei.
On Mount Bei stood a mausoleum under construction, commissioned by Xiahou Dan for the Empress Dowager, nearing completion soon.
This was a significant matter—the Emperor ought to accompany the Empress Dowager for an inspection.
Mount Bei lay far beyond the capital. Mu Yun was handing her a legitimate pretext to lure Xiahou Dan out of the city. Once the Emperor was far enough away, they could strike suddenly and kill the envoys.
By the time the Emperor realized what had happened, it would be too late. With the envoys dead, hostility between the two nations would be inevitable, and Prince Duan would have no choice but to wage war.
Mu Yun was still stammering: "Bei... Bei Mountain..."
The Empress Dowager exclaimed, "Brilliant."
Mu Yun: "?"
The Empress Dowager had watched the Emperor grow increasingly assertive day by day. The pretense of civility had already been torn away, and her patience with him had reached its limit.
Her crimson nails plucked a flower, twirling it between her fingers. "Let it be done. Tomorrow at dawn, I shall take him up the mountain."
Mu Yun fawned, "Th-this reason... His Majesty cannot refuse."
The Empress Dowager clenched her fist, crushing the petals before tossing them into the soil. "Who would have guessed you'd be so clever on ordinary days?"
Mu Yun's smile stiffened slightly.
The Empress Dowager chuckled. "Very well. Once we depart, the affairs of the city shall be left to you. If this succeeds, you shall be rewarded."
Mu Yun exclaimed in delight, "Th-thank you, Empress Dowager!"
He bowed and scraped his way out, casting one last glance at her with the eyes of a man looking at a corpse.
The Empress Dowager was busy ordering a servant to notify Xiahou Dan and didn't notice.
And so, a great storm began with the faintest rustle of grass.
Yu Wanyin had finished styling Xie Yong'er's hair and was now holding her face to apply makeup.Yu Wanyin: "Nice eyebrows."
Xie Yong'er: "Too thick for this era though. Needs some trimming. These ancients have terrible taste."
Yu Wanyin: "..."
Yu Wanyin: "True."
The girls' dorm gossip session had gone on long enough that Xie Yong'er's speech had become completely modernized, the resentment between her brows fading somewhat.
Yu Wanyin kept steering the conversation toward food, entertainment, school days, shitty bosses and nightmare clients. These distant terms wove together in the air, creating a temporary illusion where Xie Yong'er seemed to forget her circumstances and become an office worker again.
Xie Yong'er suddenly sighed: "Looking back, life after transmigrating feels so unreal."
Yu Wanyin had achieved her goal, yet her chest felt strangely tight.
Xie Yong'er didn't know that even as an office worker, she'd never been real.
Every chess piece believes itself outside the game.
Like Tuer.
A Hidden Arrow pierced through the inn's paper window, whistling toward Tuer with deadly force.
Tuer shifted slightly—so fast the movement was nearly imperceptible—and caught the arrow mid-flight.
A note was attached.
Haqina frowned deeply: "Your Highness, drop it! It might be poisoned."
Tuer obeyed, tossing the arrow aside while glancing at the hole in the window. "Shot from across the street."
Haqina stepped forward, using a handkerchief to pick up the note. His expression changed upon reading it: "It's in Yan language."
The message read: "The Emperor ascends Bei Mountain tomorrow. Someone plans to kill you—beware."
Instead of a signature, there was a sketched flower.
Haqina: "What's this implying? Have we been exposed? Does he know we plan to kill the Emperor?"
Tuer pondered.
If their identities were compromised yet they remained unharmed in the inn, it suggested the informant hadn't reported them.
Could there be fellow countrymen hidden in the city, secretly aiding their final battle?
Haqina: "Your Highness, these Xia People grow more treacherous by the day. Can we trust this?"
Tuer kept staring at the ink-drawn bell-shaped flower.
This was Shan Yi's favorite. He'd once tucked it behind her ear. Their people called it the camelbell flower. For some reason, it always made him faintly hear the tinkling of ornaments when Shan Yi danced—delicate, ethereal chimes.
When she married into Great Xia, the women of their clan embroidered this flower on her garments.
Months later, news of her death reached Yan.
The Xia claimed she attempted assassination, while Prince Yan accused Xia of framing an innocent and murdering their Holy Maiden. The fragile peace lasted mere months before war reignited.
Shan Yi had been the most beautiful soul in the world.
Had she lived, time might have dulled her radiance, making "most beautiful" an exaggeration. But she never got that chance.
Yu Wanyin: "So what exactly do you see in Prince Duan? His heartlessness? His emotional unavailability?"
Xie Yong'er didn't answer.
Yu Wanyin nudged her: "Come on, tell me."
"You already know he's heartless," Xie Yong'er finally said. "I'm not particularly pretty, my intelligence doesn't measure up here, and he discovered I'm an outsider. Yet he still accepted me."
Yu Wanyin: "..."Xie Yong'er: "I thought I was the special one. Unfortunately, the deeper I fell, the more distant he became. And the more distant he became, the more unwilling I grew."
"Unwilling?"
Xie Yong'er bit her lip. "You're also from the modern world, so you should know. In the original story, your character was entangled with him in a passionate, love-hate relationship." For Xie Yong'er, this original work was East Wind Blooms a Thousand Flowers at Night .
Yu Wanyin: "..."
Xie Yong'er: "Why can't it be me instead?"
Yu Wanyin felt a chill in her heart.
Xie Yong'er's small insecurities and inner conflicts sounded like they stemmed from free will, but in reality, they were all written into Demon Consort .
Could it be... that her infatuation with Prince Duan was just part of her character setting?
Yu Wanyin didn't want to analyze it in that direction—the sense of powerless fate was too suffocating.
Moreover, if character settings were unshakable, why hadn't Prince Duan, the male lead, fallen for Xie Yong'er? Yu Wanyin preferred to believe that free will existed—it was just that Xie Yong'er's wasn't strong enough.
"Actually, I think you have some misunderstandings about Xiahou Bo," she said softly, like a demon tempting a monk to stray. "How should I put it? He seems... to lack worldly desires."
Xie Yong'er paused, her tone cooling. "He has them for you. Even though I changed the plot, I can still tell—the way he looks at you is different."
"No," Yu Wanyin wished she could shake some sense into this love-struck fool. "He doesn't have them for anyone! He's the kind of excellent villain who's solely focused on his ambitions!"
Xie Yong'er: "?"
Every chess piece believes it is not part of the game.
Take Xiahou Dan, for example.
When the Empress Dowager used the excuse of inspecting the imperial mausoleum, Xiahou Dan truly couldn't refuse. Even knowing she was clearly trying to lure the tiger from the mountain, he couldn't defy filial piety and reject accompanying her.
When the news arrived, he could only instruct the Shadow Guard: "Tonight, secretly contact the envoys and move them to another hiding place. Change locations multiple times to shake off the Empress Dowager's spies. Station extra guards outside the embassy as a decoy."
The Shadow Guard acknowledged the order and was about to leave when Xiahou Dan added, "While protecting them, keep an eye on them too. Don't let them take the chance to run around."
In theory, he didn't need to worry excessively about the envoys' safety, because Prince Duan should also be actively promoting the peace talks this time. If the Empress Dowager made a move, Prince Duan wouldn't stand idly by.
But faintly, he felt something was off.
Because there had been no word from Wang Zhao. From the start, they had doubts about the envoys' intentions.
Because Prince Duan had been quiet for too long, watching his and the Empress Dowager's power struggle from the sidelines, unnervingly silent.
Or perhaps it was simply because, given this world's malice toward him, the peace talks wouldn't go smoothly. Anything unusual must have sinister motives.
Xiahou Dan: "Where is Imperial Concubine Yu?"
Attendant: "Still at Consort Xie's place."
Is this act still not over? Are they planning to drag it out for eighty-one episodes?
Xiahou Dan's expression darkened as he stood and headed toward Xie Yong'er's residence.
Meanwhile, the chess player sat calmly in Prince Duan's residence.
Xiahou Bo was meditating with his eyes closed. The more perilous the game became, the calmer he grew.
A spy was reporting: "Tuer has received the note."
Another was also reporting—none other than Mu Yun, who had just been advising the Empress Dowager: "The Empress Dowager said she will ascend the mountain tomorrow and ordered me to kill the envoy delegation."Xiahou Bo opened his eyes and smiled. "You've all worked hard. Tomorrow is the day we draw in the net."
The sun was already setting, and the time for Prince Duan's meeting with Xie Yong'er was approaching.
When Xiahou Dan entered the room, Yu Wanyin and Xie Yong'er's conversation had already reached a dead end.
Ignoring them, Xiahou Dan walked straight up to Xie Yong'er. "The Empress Dowager has asked me to accompany her to Beishan tomorrow morning. Is Prince Duan behind this?"
Xie Yong'er: "...I don't know."
Xiahou Dan: "What does he want to say when he meets you tonight?"
Xie Yong'er: "I don't know, I really don't."
Xiahou Dan scoffed and said to Yu Wanyin, "See? Wasted effort."
Xie Yong'er felt as if she'd been struck dumb, unable to refute. If she were in their shoes, she wouldn't believe herself either.
Yu Wanyin took a deep breath.
"Yong'er, there's something I didn't want to show you."
She pulled a book from her bosom.
Xiahou Dan's eyes flickered, and his hand twitched as if to stop her, but he restrained himself halfway.
Yu Wanyin gave him a reassuring look. "Xu Yao, remember? These are his final notes, containing Prince Duan's most secret plans. You know we couldn't have forged this."
Xie Yong'er's expression changed. "How did you get this?"
Yu Wanyin: "What's with that tone? We're all transmigrators here—who are you looking down on?"
Xie Yong'er: "..."
Yu Wanyin had hesitated to reveal this trump card because the book contained two final critical actions against Xiahou Dan that hadn't been executed yet—apparently waiting until after the Empress Dowager was dealt with.
Her prolonged silence had been part of a plan to turn the tables.
Once Xie Yong'er knew they possessed this book, she could immediately inform Prince Duan, rendering it useless for its final purpose.
But when Yu Wanyin heard Xiahou Dan was going to Beishan, her eyelids suddenly twitched. Though she couldn't explain why, she felt an almost instinctive urgency: tonight, they had to test Prince Duan's intentions. And to do that, she needed to convince Xie Yong'er now.
Gritting her teeth, Yu Wanyin handed over the book. "See for yourself."
Prince Duan's residence.
Mu Yun now stood straight, his speech no longer stammering. "Your Highness, will Tuer believe that note?"
Xiahou Bo: "It doesn't matter if he doesn't believe it now. Tomorrow, when you go to capture them, make as much noise as possible—they'll have no choice but to believe. Then let them escape. After that..."
Mu Yun: "After that, Tuer will realize Beishan's open terrain is their best opportunity."
Neither the Empress Dowager nor the Emperor knew that Yan Kingdom's top assassin was coming—for the Emperor's head.
Meaning neither would have made the necessary defensive preparations.
In the palace, layers of guards might still put up a fight. But on Beishan's wild mountains, while the path could be guarded, the surrounding forests would be impossible to secure.
Tuer was a warrior who could take on a hundred in battle, and this time he came prepared. Xiahou Bo had no doubts about his capability.
With careful planning against the unsuspecting, the few guards on the mountain could be wiped out.
Even if the Yan operatives encountered difficulties, help was at hand. Along the way, Prince Duan's men would ensure their safe passage.Mu Yun said, "I'll go ahead and make arrangements at the city gate. Also, should we send some people to set up an ambush in the woods first?"
Xiahou Bo nodded in approval. "With this, all four forces should be gathered."
This was the plan the Prince Duan faction had racked their brains to devise.
Inside the palace.
Xie Yong'er flipped through the pages, her entire body gradually freezing in place.
Xu Yao's book contained numerous plans that looked strikingly familiar—they were all derived from her suggestions. Since the early plotlines hadn't deviated from the original story, she could foresee many future events and had provided Prince Duan with advice as specific as "on a certain day of a certain month, go to a certain place to coincidentally meet a certain person."
Yet none of the plans Xu Yao recorded matched her suggestions exactly.
Whether it was the date and time or the specific location, there were always minor, deliberate alterations.
Xie Yong'er, confined within the palace depths, relied solely on messages and secret meetings to communicate with Prince Duan, making it impossible for her to know all his movements.
There had been one instance where she suggested Prince Duan win over the deputy commander of the Imperial Guards by provoking him into harassing the commander's concubine. Instead, she overheard Prince Duan discussing with his advisors a revised plan: drugging a horse to frame the deputy commander and then blackmailing him with the accusation.
At the time, she felt somewhat aggrieved but suppressed the urge to question Xiahou Bo, convincing herself that the modified plan was indeed more prudent.
But now, upon closer inspection, most of these changes had nothing to do with "prudence."
"He never truly accepted you," Xiahou Dan delivered the final blow. "Not only did he not accept you, but he also guarded against you."
Xie Yong'er's face turned ashen.
Xiahou Dan said coldly, "Xiahou Bo is far more pragmatic than you. From the moment you first made a prophecy for him, you became nothing more than a potentially useful time bomb in his eyes. An anomaly is an anomaly—no one develops affection for an anomaly."
His pronunciation of the word "anomaly" was particularly harsh. Yu Wanyin found it grating and gently nudged him.
Xiahou Dan finished anyway: "If he ever ascends the throne, you'll be the first to die."
In the silence, Yu Wanyin picked up the brush again and applied the final touch to Xie Yong'er's lips. "The makeup is done. Go see him now."
When Xie Yong'er remained silent for too long, Yu Wanyin held up a mirror to her. "Take a look. Are you satisfied?"
Xie Yong'er glanced at it absentmindedly, then her pupils contracted.
The makeup didn't compromise in the slightest to ancient aesthetics—from contouring to eyeshadow, it was sharp and imposing, so modern that she almost saw her former self in the reflection.
It practically spelled out the word "anomaly" on her face.
Yu Wanyin smiled. "I've wanted to try this look myself for a long time. I used to worry you'd notice, but now that we're being honest with each other, there's no need to hide anything. Are you afraid of him seeing you like this?"
Prince Duan's Residence.
Xiahou Bo said to Mu Yun, "You've worked hard these past days."
Mu Yun was Prince Duan's most capable strategist. Sent to infiltrate the Empress Dowager faction, he had kept a low profile for years, blending in even better than Grand Tutor Wei had in his time. But Prince Duan was meticulous; seeing Mu Yun's ability to navigate both sides, he had grown somewhat wary.
To prove his loyalty, Mu Yun had offered Prince Duan many ingenious strategies, gradually replacing Xu Yao's position. This current plan was also spearheaded by him.
Even so, there were inevitably some variables given the rushed timeline.
For instance, whether the Yan people would act as they hoped, or whether Xiahou Dan or the Empress Dowager might catch wind of the plan prematurely.
If this battle succeeded, the tides of the realm would fall into Prince Duan's hands, and Mu Yun would be the foremost contributor. But if anything went wrong...
The thought made Mu Yun's palms sweat. "To ensure nothing goes awry, Your Highness might consider consulting Consort Xie again tonight."
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