The Empress Dowager had just heard Xiahou Dan's entire verbal sparring with Tuer in the Hall of Offering, finally realizing that this peace negotiation had been secretly orchestrated by Xiahou Dan from the very beginning.
Under her very nose, the Emperor had sent envoys to Yan Kingdom—and she didn’t even know who this "Wang Zhao" they spoke of was. She suspected even Prince Duan was unaware.
Despite his severe injuries, he had remained composed, single-handedly turning the enemy forces against each other with mere words. He intended to send Tuer back to fight Yan Wang, aiming to incite internal strife in Yan Kingdom and silently avert war for Daxia.
Just how long had this man been playing the fool while hiding his fangs?
How many schemes had he quietly laid over these years?
In the Empress Dowager’s mind, Xiahou Dan had now surpassed Prince Duan as the primary threat. Had today’s events not unfolded, it wouldn’t have been long before he overturned the heavens, would it?
Though he was already poisoned, who could guarantee he wouldn’t find an antidote after descending the mountain? If he didn’t die, she would be the one to perish!
Yet, whether out of sudden folly or not, Xiahou Dan had forgotten to kill her—even bringing her inside to safety.
The Empress Dowager trembled silently in the darkness, not from fear, but from tension.
This was the final chance bestowed upon her by the heavens—kill Xiahou Dan, frame Tuer for it, then use the ensuing war to eliminate Prince Duan!
She had feigned death and bided her time until Bei Zhou called out to those outside, his attention diverted. Seizing the moment, she began crawling toward Xiahou Dan.
But the heavens’ mercy proved fickle—after just one crawl, Bei Zhou pinned her to the ground with his foot.
Outside, chaos erupted as the leader seemed to be directing men to search for tools.
Empress Dowager: "How dare you! You—what lowly servant do you think you are—"
Bei Zhou kept his foot firmly planted on her back and asked for the second time that day: "Dan'er, kill?"
His tone was casual—whether it was an enemy prince or the reigning Empress Dowager, a single word from Xiahou Dan would reduce them to ants beneath his heel.
Xiahou Dan fell silent for a moment.
Yu Wanyin didn’t know what exactly he pondered in that silence. When he finally spoke, it was: "Today’s events were caused by rebellious troublemakers."
Everyone: "?"
Xiahou Dan murmured meaningfully, "Fortunately, you guards risked your lives to protect Us. As for the envoy delegation, they remained in the capital all along, preparing for the peace talks."
As the first hammer struck outside, he began issuing instructions one by one: "Tuer, smear some mud on your face and keep your head down later. Shadow Guard, take off your outer robe and cover Wan Yin with it. Wan Yin, tie up your hair and dirty your face."
Understanding his intent, everyone moved to comply in the dark.
Xiahou Dan’s voice grew weaker: "Tuer, do you still have poison? Anything that won’t kill within three to five days?"
Tuer hesitated, unsure why he asked. "Hard to say. I didn’t brew the poison myself—only tested it on chickens." He reached into his robe, fumbled around, and pulled out a pill, sniffing it. "This one probably isn’t lethal. The chicken that ate it just collapsed on the spot."
Xiahou Dan: "Uncle Bei, feed it to the Empress Dowager."
Empress Dowager: "!!!"
The hammering continued, accompanied by faint cracking sounds.The Empress Dowager spoke in a hurried voice: "Your Majesty, Dan'er, today... today you displayed both wisdom and courage, turning conflict into harmony. This mother is deeply grateful... All these years, everything I've done was out of fear that the burden on your shoulders was too heavy, wanting to share your worries... Wait!!!" She suddenly turned her head to avoid the pill Bei Zhou was forcing into her mouth. "Don't forget you've been poisoned! If we both die, the one who laughs last will be Xiahou Bo. Don't you hate him?!"
Xiahou Dan said kindly, "No need for Mother to worry. Your son will not die."
Bei Zhou pried open the Empress Dowager's mouth with his bare hands and shoved the pill inside amidst her chicken-like shrieks.
Xiahou Dan: "Mother seems to have forgotten, thanks to you and Prince Duan, how many poisons your son has endured over the years, and how many antidotes he's taken. Ordinary poisons aren't quite so effective on me."
Bei Zhou gripped her neck, lifting her entire body up and giving her a shake.
The pill went down.
Xiahou Dan: "Mother can rest easy. Your son will live unscathed until the peace talks succeed, until Prince Duan is defeated, until the world is at peace. When that time comes, as you roast in the infernal fires of the underworld holding your grandchild, don't forget to rejoice for me."
The Empress Dowager's moans and pleas gradually weakened, until only hoarse gasps remained.
In the silence, Xiahou Dan suddenly burst into laughter.
He laughed until he was breathless: "Does everyone remember where we are?"
No one dared answer, so he answered himself: "In the tomb I built for her."
A loud crash—the stone door was finally hammered open.
A few more blows, and it shattered into pieces, collapsing and splattering mud everywhere.
The deputy commander of the Imperial Guards knelt on the ground: "Your servant arrived late to rescue Your Majesty. Please forgive this crime!"
Keeping his head bowed, he heard the Emperor's panicked voice: "Never mind me, save Mother first."
The deputy commander froze, then raised his lantern to look inside the tomb. The Empress Dowager lay twitching on the ground, her mouth and eyes twisted—she appeared to be having a stroke.
Immediately, the Imperial Guards carried all the wounded down the mountain, escorting the imperial carriage back to the city.
On the return journey, the rain gradually ceased. As the clouds dispersed, everyone realized with a start that it was already evening. The sunset blazed like a raging fire, threatening to burn the remaining clouds to ashes.
When the carriage entered the palace, the Empress Dowager was carried in first.
The deputy commander moved to assist Xiahou Dan in disembarking, but the Emperor ignored him, stepping down with the support of Bei Zhou, who had resumed his old nursemaid form.
Xiahou Dan subtly leaned most of his weight on Bei Zhou and calmly asked, "Where is Zhao Wucheng?"
The deputy commander hesitated, too afraid to answer. Xiahou Dan said impatiently, "The truth."
Deputy commander: "Commander Zhao... has disappeared."
Earlier, the deputy commander had been persuaded by Yang Duojie to divert Zhao Wucheng's attention, steal the military tally, and forge orders to lead all the troops loyal to him to the rescue.
Before returning, he had worried Zhao Wucheng might rally the remaining soldiers to block their path and, in desperation, commit regicide. He had sent scouts ahead to investigate, only to find that Zhao Wucheng had vanished at the first sign of trouble. Cowardly as a mouse, Zhao had likely packed his valuables and fled when the plot was exposed.
Xiahou Dan scoffed: "From now on, you are the commander of the Imperial Guards."
The deputy commander's heart swelled with joy.
Xiahou Dan: "By imperial decree: Ruffians are causing chaos—the entire city is under martial law. The Imperial Guards failed in their duty to protect the Emperor. Zhao Wucheng neglected his post and fled. Capture him and execute him immediately."
The deputy commander declared fervently: "Your servant obeys the decree!"He left to carry out his orders, relieved that he had placed his bet correctly at the last moment, failing to notice the slight sluggishness in Xiahou Dan's steps as he turned back toward the palace.
Xiahou Dan forced himself to walk into the bedchamber before collapsing the moment the doors shut behind him.
"Dan'er!" Bei Zhou exclaimed in alarm.
Yu Wanyin, who had been following as part of the guard detail, rushed forward to help steady him, her hands coming away covered in blood.
Tuer, who had also been trailing behind, cried out, "...Call the imperial physicians! Quickly!"
Xiahou Dan rolled his eyes at him before turning his gaze to Yu Wanyin.
There was so much he needed to tell her.
Like how he wasn't as confident as he'd claimed about surviving this ordeal. The reason he'd taken down the Empress Dowager was that if he died, the ultimate victor would inevitably emerge between her and Prince Duan—and between those two, the Empress Dowager advocated for war while Prince Duan favored peace.
He had no intention of handing victory to Prince Duan, but by removing the Empress Dowager, at least the fruits of the peace negotiations could be preserved.
Like how sparing the Empress Dowager's life was meant to confuse Prince Duan, making him hesitate to rebel outright while the situation remained unclear. If Xiahou Dan survived, this would buy them precious time to recover.
Like how with the sudden shift in circumstances, Prince Duan would undoubtedly be watching the palace like a tiger eyeing its prey. But she mustn't be afraid—she couldn't afford to be. With him down, she would be their only anchor in this storm.
So many things to say.
But he had no strength left.
All he could manage was a faint whisper: "Don't be afraid..."
Yu Wanyin nodded. "You don't be afraid either. I can handle this."
Reassured, Xiahou Dan passed out.
Bei Zhou carried Xiahou Dan to the bed. Yu Wanyin turned to face the gathering palace staff.
The carefully trained Shadow Guards were nearly all gone, most having met their end on Mount Bei. The remaining ones were still undergoing Bei Zhou's training and had suddenly been promoted from reserves to frontline duty—they looked even more nervous than she felt.
Yes, Yu Wanyin thought. Somehow, without realizing it, she had stopped feeling afraid.
If she returned to her original world now, she'd probably get promoted to CEO, wouldn't she?
She spoke in a measured tone: "Issue orders in His Majesty's name—the Empress Dowager has fallen ill. The palace is under curfew tonight; no one enters or leaves. Summon the imperial physicians... send most to attend the Empress Dowager, only one here." They needed to guard against Prince Duan's spies.
The servants hurried off to carry out her commands.
Yu Wanyin looked at Xiahou Dan on the bed. His face was drained of all color, ashen like death. Following the usual tropes of such stories, the imperial physicians probably wouldn't be much help.
She paced back and forth twice before asking, "Uncle Bei, where's A Bai? Where exactly is he? Wasn't he out finding medicine for His Majesty?"
Bei Zhou shook his head helplessly. A Bai hadn't shared any details with him, and Xiahou Dan hadn't mentioned anything either.
Yu Wanyin took a deep breath. "I just thought of someone... damn it, I forgot about her."
She summoned a Shadow Guard: "Go fetch Consort Xie immediately. If she's in danger, protect her. If she's safe, ask if she knows any exceptionally talented apprentice in the Imperial Hospital—bring them both here."
Xie Yong'er arrived swiftly.
After delivering her warning to Yu Wanyin that morning, Xie Yong'er had quickly retreated to her own quarters, claiming illness and daring not to see anyone. She worried Yu Wanyin might miss the hint, or overreact and alert Prince Duan. While Prince Duan's attention should have been focused on the mountain today, who could guarantee he hadn't left someone behind to deal with her?
As night fell, Xie Yong'er finally saw the Shadow Guard arrive to escort her to the Emperor.Entering the bedchamber, she sighed in relief: "You finally thought of me! I didn’t dare touch any food or water the servants brought all day, afraid Xiahou Bo would kill me..."
Yu Wanyin poured her a cup of tea and handed it over: "You’ve had a hard time. Stay here for now and don’t go out again."
Xie Yong’er was parched and immediately reached for it, but then hesitated suspiciously: "Why do you look like death warmed over? Is the Emperor still alive? Did the mission fail, and now you’re dragging me down with you?"
Yu Wanyin: "..."
She led Xie Yong’er into the inner chamber.
The servants had already removed Xiahou Dan’s bloodstained Dragon Robe and roughly cleaned his wounds. The moment Xie Yong’er saw the gaping wound on his chest still oozing blood, her breath hitched: "What happened?"
Exhausted, Yu Wanyin sat on the edge of the bed and summarized the events in under thirty seconds.
Xie Yong’er froze on the spot.
After a long pause, her thoughts slowly resumed: "...A gun."
Yu Wanyin nodded.
Xie Yong’er: "Damn."
Yu Wanyin: "Thanks."
Xie Yong’er was utterly stunned. At this point, she knew she had to cling to this pair of scheming lovers for dear life—under no circumstances could she stand against them.
Three days ago, she would never have imagined racking her brains to help them: "Disinfect the wound—"
"Already used alcohol."
"Can you do a blood transfusion?"
"Don’t know his blood type."
Xie Yong’er: "I’m type O, a universal donor!"
Yu Wanyin: "You mean you were type O before transmigrating, right?"
Xie Yong’er fell silent.
Yu Wanyin: "We’ll have to rely on ancient methods. The most urgent thing now is detoxifying. That genius apprentice you know—"
"His name is Xiao Tiancai. After the Shadow Guard found me, I sent him a message to follow the imperial physician here and assist discreetly." Xie Yong’er frowned. "Wait, how did you know about him?"
Yu Wanyin: "..."
Naturally, it was written in the novel.
Before Yu Wanyin could fabricate an explanation, Xie Yong’er figured it out herself: "You’re really something, having spies in the Imperial Hospital too? You knew the whole time I went to him for abortion medicine? Good thing I didn’t keep fighting you."
Yu Wanyin: "."
Yu Wanyin: "Thanks."
The truth absolutely couldn’t be revealed to Xie Yong’er.
She had initially won Xie Yong’er over by leveraging their shared identity as transmigrators. If Xie Yong’er discovered she was actually a Paper Doll, the psychological shock could unpredictably alter her mindset.
Putting herself in Xie Yong’er’s shoes, Yu Wanyin felt that if she were a Paper Doll, she wouldn’t want to know either.
If free will was denied, what else could one rely on?
The elderly imperial physician arrived with Xiao Tiancai in tow.
Xiao Tiancai was eighteen, serene and refined in demeanor. After kneeling in greeting, his eyes kept darting toward Xie Yong’er, his expression conflicted.
While the old physician nervously checked the pulse, Xie Yong’er remembered another precaution and whispered to Yu Wanyin: "Is Tuer locked up? Don’t let him roam free until the peace treaty is signed. With his one-track mind, if Xiahou Bo’s people get to him and promise to take out both the Emperor and Prince Yan..."
"Don’t worry, he’s already confined."Xiao Tiancai's gaze swept over Xiahou Dan from head to toe. Seeing him unconscious with no one apparently in charge nearby, he cautiously approached Xie Yong'er: "Consort Xie, may we speak in private?"
The two stepped aside to a secluded spot. Xiao Tiancai lowered his voice to a whisper, his tone laced with anticipation: "Does Your Ladyship wish for him to live... or die?"
Above them on the rafters, a Shadow Guard's dagger had already left its sheath.
Xie Yong'er: "?"
Xie Yong'er hurriedly replied: "Live, definitely live!"
Since transmigrating, she had never prayed so fervently for Xiahou Dan's survival—her devotion now rivaled even Tuer and the new Imperial Guard commander.
Xiahou Dan himself probably never imagined this would become the day with the most people praying for his wellbeing in history.
Xiao Tiancai looked skeptical, as if suspecting she was being coerced: "But Your Ladyship said you lived like a caged beast in this palace, only hoping for Prince Duan—"
Xie Yong'er clamped a hand over his mouth: "That was then, this is now! Prince Duan is dead to me!" Unable to explain further and lacking any convincing excuse, she steeled herself and blurted, "Actually... His Majesty has always treated me well. I was blind, failing to recognize my own feelings."
Xiao Tiancai: "."
He studied her for a long moment before turning away: "I understand."
His retreating figure seemed somewhat dejected.
Having read the original novel, Yu Wanyin knew this was one of Xie Yong'er's doomed admirers and could guess most of their whispered conversation. Seeing Xiao Tiancai return crestfallen, she quickly offered a kindly smile: "Master Xiao, now we all must rely on you."
The elderly physician who'd been preparing his apology: "?"
Xiao Tiancai murmured, "Forgive this disciple's impertinence," and stepped past him to examine Xiahou Dan's wound closely.
Xiao Tiancai: "His Majesty appears poisoned by a blood-curdling toxin of extreme virulence..."
Yu Wanyin held her breath awaiting his verdict.
Xiao Tiancai: "...But the dosage seems minimal, or perhaps His Majesty's imperial constitution is exceptionally robust, as the wound already shows initial signs of healing."
Yu Wanyin froze momentarily before rushing forward.
She'd avoided looking directly at the gruesome injury earlier, but now she noticed the bleeding had indeed slowed significantly.
Revived as if from death's door, she asked incredulously: "Really? This isn't just... the blood running dry?"
Xiao Tiancai's mouth twitched: "His Majesty is blessed by heaven. He'll recover. This humble servant will prepare a hemostatic prescription."
Meanwhile, in the theoretically curfewed city, countless messages circulated chaotically through the darkness.
The Empress Dowager faction urgently inquired about the day's events—what had happened, where the envoy group had fled, and the Empress Dowager's condition.
The Prince Duan faction secretly debated their mission's failure, how the Emperor had escaped, and how to adapt their plans to the new situation.
Yang Duojie was composing a secret letter to Li Yunxi, extolling Xiahou Dan's virtues.
Under the lonely moon, a figure fled in panic, knocking at the doors of Prince Duan faction allies but finding no sanctuary, until stray arrows struck him down in the street.
The new Imperial Guard commander decisively severed his head, announcing joyfully: "Report to the palace—the traitor Zhao Wucheng has been executed!"According to the initial arrangements, the day after tomorrow was the auspicious date for peace talks set by the Imperial Observatory. If Xiahou Dan couldn't be present to observe then, it would be a clear signal to Prince Duan: my defenses are down, you can make your move.
Every cell in Yu Wanyin's body screamed exhaustion, but she didn't dare relax. While the palace servants were preparing medicine, she pulled Xie Yong'er aside to review the palace's defense arrangements once more, stationing additional guards at all the weak points Prince Duan had previously exploited.
She didn't tell Xie Yong'er about Tuer's location.
Bei Zhou was currently guarding Tuer in the secret tunnels beneath their feet. The other exit had been sealed off—even if Prince Duan had eyes everywhere, he wouldn't be able to find them.
If Prince Duan resorted to direct assassination, the tunnels would be their last escape route.
Xiahou Dan lay deathly pale amidst the bedding, unconscious. The medicine from the spoon trickled down the corner of his lips onto the pillow.
Looking at his tightly closed lips, Yu Wanyin—who had read thousands of online novels—understood something and turned to Xie Yong'er.
Xie Yong'er understood too and pulled Xiao Tiancai away: "We'll give you some privacy."
After settling Xiao Tiancai in a side chamber, Xie Yong'er remembered that Yu Wanyin was also at her limit and might need someone to take over during the night, so she headed back.
Just in time to see Yu Wanyin with flushed lips putting down an empty medicine bowl, then eagerly picking up a bowl of porridge. Hearing footsteps, she turned her head.
Xie Yong'er took a step back: "My apologies. Please continue."
Xiahou Dan woke up the following afternoon.
Having slept too deeply for too long, he momentarily forgot what day it was, thinking he hadn't yet gone to Beishan. He instinctively tried to sit up, only to hiss in pain and collapse back onto the pillow.
The wound on his chest still ached, but it didn't seem to be bleeding anymore. He tentatively moved his arms and legs—aside from weakness, there were no other issues.
Looks like I'm not dying this time either. Realizing this, his first reaction was actually weariness.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the figure by the bed and slowly turned his head.
Yu Wanyin was slumped over the edge of the bed, her eyes closed as she rested her head on her arm. She had changed clothes, seemingly having taken a quick bath, her hair loose and unbound. Xiahou Dan reached out and gently touched the top of her head, feeling dampness on his fingertips. She'd fallen asleep before even drying her hair.
Xiahou Dan rang for a servant, intending to have her carried to bed, but Yu Wanyin startled awake, mumbling groggily, "How are you?"
Perhaps due to weakness, or perhaps because they had just confessed their feelings, Xiahou Dan looked so peaceful it was as if he'd never harmed a soul. The tenderness in his gaze could almost make her forget the madman on the mountain: "Better than I expected. How are things in the palace?"
"No court today—we told everyone you're attending to the Empress Dowager's illness. The palace gates remain closed, but I wanted to bluff Prince Duan, so I had people prepare the seating for tomorrow's peace talks as usual. No movement from his side yet."
"And the Empress Dowager?"
Climbing onto the bed, Yu Wanyin clicked her tongue and shook her head: "Reportedly throwing a tantrum, but she can't even speak coherently anymore. Her faction's ministers are coming one after another like gourds trying to save their grandpa—I sent them all away."
Xiahou Dan smiled: "Sister Yu, you're formidable."
Yu Wanyin flopped heavily beside him, too exhausted to feel anything but sleepiness: "Remember to eat something before sleeping again. I can't hold on anymore—just need a quick nap. Wake me if anything happens...""Mm." Xiahou Dan held her hand. "Leave it to me."
The scent of medicine clinging to him lingered in the air, and her taut nerves finally relaxed. For the first time in days, she sank into a deep, sweet slumber.
But when she opened her eyes again, the space beside her was empty.
Faint murmurs of conversation reached her ears:
"...Each shall guard their own territory without encroachment. And as for trade, we’ll start by exchanging silk and porcelain for a batch of your fox furs and spices... The detailed list is here. Take it back and review it. If there are no issues, we’ll proceed with the ceremony tomorrow."
Night had already fallen, and candlelight flickered against the bed curtains. Yu Wanyin quietly rose, lifting the curtain to peer outside. Xiahou Dan sat across from Tuer, with Bei Zhou standing beside them.
Tuer held the peace treaty and read it for a while before setting it down again. "I have a question—what identity should I use to form an alliance with Xia? As the new Prince Yan? Then I’d lead Xia’s reinforcements back to Yan to take Zha Luo Wa Han’s head? How would that look any different from treason in the eyes of the people?"
Xiahou Dan replied unhurriedly, "Of course not. Aren’t you the envoy sent by Zha Luo Wa Han?"
Tuer: "?"
Xiahou Dan: "Once the alliance is signed tomorrow, we’ll spread the news far and wide, all the way to Yan. We’ll say Zha Luo Wa Han showed utmost sincerity by sending you, Prince Tuer, for the peace talks. Moved by his goodwill, Xia has honored you as a distinguished guest. Now that the war between the two nations has finally ceased, the war-torn people of Yan will rejoice. By then—"
"By then, if Zha Luo Wa Han reneges on the alliance to resume the war, he’ll be seen as treacherous and unfit to rule?"
Xiahou Dan smiled. "I didn’t expect you to catch on so quickly."
Tuer: "?"
Tuer: "I’ll take that as a compliment. Knowing Yan as I do, by that point, my supporters would clash with Zha Luo Wa Han before I even return. I don’t want to see my homeland plunged into civil strife. If we’re to kill Zha Luo Wa Han, it must be swift. How many men can you lend me?"
Xiahou Dan seemed to gesture, though Yu Wanyin couldn’t see from her angle.
Xiahou Dan: "On the condition that you fulfill the contract immediately upon returning—deliver the goods to the border for our exchange."
After a long silence, Tuer nodded solemnly. "Agreed."
He stood up. "Can I sleep up here tonight?"
"No." Xiahou Dan didn’t hesitate. "There are beddings in the tunnel. Bei Zhou will accompany you. Go."
Yu Wanyin seemed to hear Tuer’s teeth grinding. "A scholar prefers death to humiliation!"
Xiahou Dan: "Then try killing me again?"
Tuer took a deep breath, crouched down, and crawled toward the entrance beneath the Dragon Bed.
Yu Wanyin hurriedly closed her eyes and pretended to sleep.
Once Tuer and Bei Zhou had descended, Xiahou Dan clutched his wound and lay back beside her, exhaling sharply.
Yu Wanyin leaned in and whispered by his ear, "The manpower you’re lending him—is it A Bai?"
Her warm breath brushed against his ear and neck. Xiahou Dan tilted his head, inexplicably recalling the texture of those lips—soft yet resilient, like strawberry gummies from distant memories.
He swooped in and pecked her lips. "Correct. Ten points."
Yu Wanyin’s face flushed, but she feigned nonchalance. "Is A Bai alone enough?"
Xiahou Dan pecked her again. "Minus ten. How many times must you mention A Bai in front of me?"
Yu Wanyin: "..."
Stop teasing, or your wound will reopen.
She turned her back to him. "Sleep. The more rest you get before morning, the better for your recovery."
But Xiahou Dan refused to stay quiet. "Aren’t you hungry?"
"I... lack of sleep kills my appetite. I asked them to simmer porridge on low heat—I’ll eat when I wake later."
"Mm."
Yu Wanyin opened her eyes in the dimness, gazing at the bed curtains. "Speaking of which, I have a question for you."
Unseen by her, Xiahou Dan’s body tensed.
He hadn’t forgotten his promise to confess something to her.
Back then, he’d thought it might be his dying words.
Yu Wanyin: "How did you know what Shan Yi’s dagger looked like?"Xiahou Dan: "..."
He heard his own voice, practiced and automatic, slipping past his lips: "I investigated. The palace servants who collected her body said so."
"Then..."
Xiahou Dan's nails dug into his palms.
"Then after you recognized Tuer in the Hall of Offering, you should have confronted him immediately. It might have prevented that bloody battle on the mountain."
After what seemed like an unusually long pause, Xiahou Dan replied: "At that time, he was blinded by bloodlust and determined to take my life. Without concrete evidence, he wouldn't have listened to mere words."
"But later—"
"Later, when his plans fell through and he couldn't accept defeat, I gave him a new target for revenge, a new purpose in life. Naturally, he was willing to believe it."
In the quiet night, Xiahou Dan's cool voice carried a hint of mockery: "You can't wake someone who's pretending to sleep, but you can starve them awake."
Yu Wanyin sighed: "He killed Wang Zhao, so I don't want to sympathize with him. But his story with Shan Yi is quite sad too. In these times, survival itself is a stroke of luck, and staying together is an impossible dream."
"We won't be like that."
Yu Wanyin smiled, turning over to hook her arm around his—she had wanted to hug him tightly but held back, mindful of his inexplicable aversion to touch, opting for gradual steps instead.
This time, Xiahou Dan didn't react defensively. Perhaps he was too weak to resist. But Yu Wanyin felt she was receiving special treatment and was satisfied: "In a way, we should be grateful for this incident. Otherwise, if we kept dancing around each other like this, we might have died one day without ever properly being in love."
"Love..." Xiahou Dan repeated unconsciously.
She grew slightly embarrassed: "Forgive me, I've turned into a hopeless romantic after all. Seeing how unpredictable life and death are, it makes you want to seize the day."
Xiahou Dan fell silent.
Not getting a response, Yu Wanyin felt awkward and nudged him: "Don't you feel the same? Oh right, before going up the mountain, you seemed to have set up a flag—you wanted to tell me something?"
"...Aren't you still tired? Sleep first. We'll talk another day."
At the break of dawn that morning, the court officials of Great Xia were already standing outside the main hall in the autumn chill, waiting for the morning court session. They seemed to have arrived earlier than usual, yet no one exchanged pleasantries.
Amid the silence, a cold wind blew through.
The crowd had subtly split into two groups, each side stealing glances at the other.
Judging by their expressions, the Empress Dowager faction was cowering, each member fearful for their safety, while the Prince Duan faction was on high alert, as if facing imminent danger.
Of course, there were exceptions.
Like Mu Yun.
Mu Yun was both cowering and on high alert.
As a mole planted by Prince Duan within the Empress Dowager faction, he was bearing double the anxiety.
From the day before yesterday to yesterday, the entire city had been under strict lockdown, with the palace sealed so tightly that not even a breeze could pass through. After the Imperial Guards appointed a new commander, they conducted five full sweeps of the imperial city yesterday, terrifying merchants into closing early and commoners into staying indoors.
Even a pig could smell the winds of change.
Mu Yun knew the plan had failed—he had sent Tuer up the mountain, but Tuer hadn't managed to cleanly eliminate Xiahou Dan and the Empress Dowager.
From the spies, he heard that the corpses brought down from Bei Mountain had piled into a small hill and were hastily buried overnight. Guards, Yan Kingdom operatives, and reinforcements sent by Prince Duan—almost none had survived.What exactly happened during that ominous storm?
Did the Emperor and the Empress Dowager survive? And if so, how?
Mu Yun had not been idle in his attempts to redeem himself. All day yesterday, he feigned concern for the Empress Dowager, repeatedly seeking permission to enter the palace for an audience, only to be denied each time. The palace announced that the Empress Dowager had suddenly fallen ill and needed rest.
Moreover, the Emperor himself had not made an appearance for an entire day.
Mu Yun racked his brains before Prince Duan: "Most likely, both were severely injured and are now hanging by a thread. Your Highness should seize this opportunity to strike before either can recover!"
Before he could finish, a scout arrived with new intelligence: "The palace has prepared seats in the grand hall as usual, claiming His Majesty has decreed that the peace treaty with the Yan envoys will be signed during tomorrow's morning court."
Mu Yun: "..."
Mu Yun's mind went blank.
By releasing this news, Xiahou Dan seemed to be declaring to the world one simple message: The victor is me.
If the Emperor was unharmed, why hadn't he shown himself?
And where did these Yan envoys come from? Weren't the Yan people here to assassinate him? Weren't they all dead? Where did Xiahou Dan plan to conjure up an envoy delegation from? Even if he found imposters, what use was a treaty Yan wouldn't recognize?
Unlike the bitter and resentful Xu Yao, Mu Yun was a born strategist. He relished the process of weaving webs in the shadows, taking pleasure in watching his prey's bewilderment and despair as they fell into his traps without understanding what had happened.
For the first time in his life, he felt that this time, the prey might be himself.
Xiahou Bo smiled faintly and asked him amiably, "Should I attend tomorrow's morning court, do you think?"
Mu Yun's scalp prickled: "This... the Emperor might just be laying a false trail, pretending everything is fine to stall Your Highness."
Xiahou Bo gazed at him: "And what if he truly is unharmed?"
Mu Yun: "..."
To have emerged unscathed from Beishan—what unfathomable trump cards did this mad Emperor hold?
No one could ascertain his current condition. If he was critically injured, Prince Duan could take his time tightening the net and send him to his grave. But conversely, if he truly was unharmed, then after dealing with the Empress Dowager, he would turn his attention to Prince Duan next.
Cold sweat beaded on Mu Yun's forehead: "Your Highness need not worry overly. The Emperor has spent these years feigning madness, losing the people's favor. Even if he secretly cultivated some influence, his footing in the court remains unstable. Now, while he nominally controls the Imperial Guards, they are divided among themselves. If it truly comes to open conflict... his chances aren't great."
Prince Duan had nurtured many elite private soldiers and maintained good relations with military officers. Even without formal military authority, his call to arms would rally many. In terms of combat strength, the Emperor indeed couldn't compare.
Xiahou Bo nodded: "So if Xiahou Dan has any sense, he would strike against me swiftly and decisively, catching me off guard—and the best opportunity for that would likely be tomorrow's morning court. Don't you agree?"
Those calm eyes swept over him again, as if genuinely seeking his opinion.
I'm finished, Mu Yun thought.
Given Prince Duan's meticulousness and paranoia, his failure at Beishan had likely already branded him a traitor. And he had seen firsthand from Xu Yao what happened to traitors.
At this point, what could he do to save himself?
Mu Yun, who had spent years pretending to stutter before the Empress Dowager faction, now found himself genuinely stammering for the first time: "Th-there m-might be a trap... or p-perhaps not."His face flushed crimson, and he nearly dropped to his knees on the spot to beg for mercy.
Yet Xiahou Bo did not lose his temper, nor did he press the matter further. Instead, he even offered a gentle word of comfort: "Don't blame yourself too much. You did your best." Having made up his mind, he continued, "With the situation unclear, I shall feign illness and stay away for now."
Outside the palace gates, the ministers quickly noticed Prince Duan's absence.
The Prince Duan faction wore grim expressions. With Xiahou Bo himself absent, they had already lost ground in terms of momentum.
They had thought toppling the Empress Dowager would mark their triumph, only to realize that over all these years, the Emperor had been quietly amassing power right under their noses.
The Prince Duan faction gnashed their teeth in frustration, secretly resolved to scrutinize the Emperor's every move during the court session like a pack of wolves eyeing their aging leader, ready to pounce and tear out his throat at the slightest sign of weakness.
From afar, three ceremonial whip cracks echoed.
The palace gates swung open.
Xiahou Dan strolled leisurely to the dragon throne and took his seat, his expression no different from his usual court demeanor—utterly bored.
Only when he looked down at the ministers bowing in reverence did a faint sneer flicker across his face, as if amused by the expressions they wore, silently mocking them.
The ministers: "."
The smirk vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a look of deep concern. "The Empress Dowager has fallen suddenly ill, leaving Us deeply troubled. Only by swiftly finalizing the alliance and averting war can We bring her this joyous news at her bedside to ease her heart."
The ministers: "..."
You're afraid she won't die fast enough.
Xiahou Dan raised a finger, and An Xian, standing nearby, announced in a clear voice, "Summon the envoy of Yan!"
The Yan envoy entered the hall at a measured pace.
Mu Yun turned to look and froze in shock.
Tuer had shaved off his bushy beard and now wore the luxurious fur robes befitting a prince—tall, imposing, and striding with purpose. Behind him trailed a token retinue, hastily assembled by Xiahou Dan for show, as his real attendants had all perished.
Save for a handful of those in the know, the ministers' pupils dilated at the sight of his attire, and whispers erupted: "Could that be...?"
Tuer stepped past the crowd and bowed deeply to Xiahou Dan. "Tuer, Prince of Yan, greets His Majesty the Emperor of Great Xia!"
The ministers lost their minds.
Under dozens of trembling gazes, Tuer strode confidently to the negotiation table and took his seat with unshakable composure.
The Minister of Rites, responsible for signing the treaty, stepped forward stiffly, hesitating before murmuring, "We never imagined Prince Tuer would travel incognito to grace us with your presence."
Tuer tilted his head, locking eyes with Xiahou Dan across the jade steps.
Here he stood, truly alone—betrayed, isolated, surrounded by enemies in a foreign land. Yet, a seasoned veteran of the battlefield, he held his ground with unshakable poise, maintaining the facade. "To be frank, I came under orders from Prince Yan, but the decision to conceal my identity was my own. I have fought many battles against Xia, yet never once set foot on its soil to witness its customs and people."
Xiahou Dan smiled warmly. "Oh? And what have you observed?"
Tuer: "At the Thousand Autumns Banquet, Your Majesty upheld justice and cleared our names. As the saying goes, 'The fish rots from the head down'—with a wise ruler come forthright ministers. This alliance between our nations is sure to endure."
He spun his lies boldly, and not a single minister dared challenge him.
For one, the matter was already settled; further resistance would be futile. For another, each of them was now like a clay idol fording a river—barely able to save themselves, let alone concern themselves with whether Yan chose war or peace.From the back-and-forth between Xiahou Dan and Tuer, they only discerned one underlying message: the victor is me.
The Minister of Rites said numbly, "Prince Yan and Prince Tuer's sincerity is truly admirable."
Xiahou Dan: "Let us begin."
An Xian then raised the peace treaty and began reading aloud: "Heaven favors the preservation of life, with one battle laying down arms forever..."
Xiahou Dan sat bolt upright.
He had no choice—his chest was still tightly wrapped in thick bandages to prevent his wounds from reopening, layer upon layer restricting almost all movement in his upper body.
Before setting out that morning, Yu Wanyin had applied light makeup to conceal his deathly pale complexion.
Then she had hurried away to confirm palace defenses, the Empress Dowager's status, and any suspicious movements from Prince Duan.
After Yu Wanyin left, Xiahou Dan stood and attempted a few steps. "Is it obvious?"
Bei Zhou: "Painfully obvious. You can barely walk steadily now, and the moment you speak, even a fool could hear your weakened breath. Listen to your uncle—wait a few more days..."
"We can't wait. Delays breed troubles."
To buy him this single day of recovery, Yu Wanyin had shouldered immense responsibility overnight. She was as brave and decisive as he'd expected, but he hadn't forgotten she too had just been injured, killed someone, and witnessed scenes akin to hell on earth. In modern times, she'd need a blanket and a therapist.
But he couldn't provide that.
All he could do was ensure her efforts weren't in vain.
Xiahou Dan summoned Xiao Tiancai: "Are there any potent medicines that can temporarily boost energy and spirit?"
Bei Zhou angrily interjected: "Absolutely not! Do you know how much blood you've lost? Not resting is bad enough, but using such drastic measures—do you even value your life?!"
Xiahou Dan kept his gaze on Xiao Tiancai: "Yes or no?"
Xiao Tiancai hesitated: "There is, but as Nurse Bei said..."
Xiahou Dan: "Bring it."
Bei Zhou refused to speak to him until he left.
An Xian continued: "...each guarding their territories without encroachment, honoring this covenant to bless all people."
In the pin-drop silence of the grand hall, both sides pressed their official seals onto the document as protocol dictated.
The alliance was sealed. Tuer looked up and declared word by word: "May there never again be the devastation of war and broken families between our nations."
At that very moment, news of the successful peace talks spread beyond the palace walls. Through official documents, secret letters, and folk songs, it raced from the capital across the land, eventually reaching the ears of Yan's common people.
One month later, Zha Luo Wa Han would fly into a rage, branding Tuer a traitor. As for the peace treaty—it was a sham agreement privately signed between the traitor Tuer (posing as an envoy) and Xia, every clause trampling on their ancestors' honor. He would refuse to recognize it, vowing to behead Tuer as sacrifice to appease their forebears' wrath.
Before Tuer's return, he would preemptively purge Tuer's key supporters.
The remaining Tuer loyalists would break their silence, condemning Zha Luo Wa Han for treachery, unfit rulership, and plunging people into war. They would swiftly muster forces to install Tuer as the new Yan king.
Two months later, Tuer would return to Yan with troops borrowed from Xiahou Dan, coordinating with his allies inside. The chaotic conflict would rage for months, ending only with Zha Luo Wa Han's death.
Meanwhile, Tuer would honor the agreement by establishing trade with Great Xia. Merchants would flock to the border regions, gradually bringing prosperity and stability to the once-war-torn lands.Along with the large quantities of fox fur and spices about to be transported into Daxia, there were also cartloads of Yanshu.
In the imperial court at this moment, Xiahou Dan lowered his gaze. Through Tuer, he saw the resentful death of Shan Yi and the lonely demise of Wang Zhao in a foreign land.
Within his line of sight, both the dead and the living looked up at him. They were waiting for him to speak.
He spoke: "In my youth, before I truly understood this world, I harbored some noble dreams of aiding the distressed and saving the world. I thought that by reviewing Official Memorials and making decisions, I could ensure the dynasty's longevity, with every field yielding bountiful harvests and every household thriving."
He smiled under the collective gaze: "The events that unfolded in the years that followed—you all witnessed them."
The ministers had never heard such a calm tone from him before.
Between the lines, they read the unspoken message: no more pretense, the cards were on the table.
This opening statement was clearly a prelude to settling scores! The civil officials of the Empress Dowager faction, who had been fond of deceiving the Emperor, now felt their legs weaken, their eyes darting toward the doors and windows as they gauged their chances of escape.
Xiahou Dan could feel the effects of the medicine wearing off. The warmth in his chest was gradually dissipating, and his limbs were stiffening again, growing weak and cold. The familiar pain in his head returned, dragging his consciousness downward like a weight.
He took a deep breath: "Some say that killing to bring peace is justifiable; waging war to end war is permissible. But sitting on this dragon throne, every sinner is my subject. Across the eight directions and half the four seas, all suffering is my responsibility. How many more bones must be piled to stabilize the nation? How much more blood must be shed to prosper the country? I do not know, yet I must know. To me, this dragon throne is as if woven from thorns."
Everyone was stunned into silence.
Xiahou Dan continued: "I should not be here. But since I have ascended, perhaps there is a righteous path ordained by heaven. Heaven creates the people and establishes their ruler. The grand aspirations I held in my youth—I have not forgotten them to this day."
His gaze swept over the faces of the Empress Dowager faction one by one, then turned frankly toward the Prince Duan faction. For a moment, Mu Yun met his eyes, only to flinch away as if scorched by fire.
The Emperor's gaze was as sinister as ever, yet something had changed. As he spoke these words, the solitary resolve in his eyes resembled the wrathful glare of a guardian deity, as if backed by divine will, inspiring awe and fear.
In this profound moment, a few perceptive ministers felt an almost celestial revelation—perhaps there truly was such a thing as the Son of Heaven.
Xiahou Dan withdrew his gaze and smiled one last time: "Fortunately, with all my beloved ministers by my side, I am not alone in this path."
The crowd bowed their heads, chanting, "Long live the Emperor!"
Hidden within the Emperor's words was an implicit message: let bygones be bygones, but from now on, those who follow me shall prosper, and those who oppose me shall perish.
Later that day, Mu Yun, mingling among his colleagues, finally managed to see the Empress Dowager.
They could hardly recognize her.
The woman who had been in the prime of her life, dignified and elegant just days ago, now lay on her couch with a twisted mouth and distorted features. At the sight of Mu Yun, her entire face turned purple, and she slurred out what sounded like the word "die."
Mu Yun dropped to his knees with a mournful expression, slapping his own face repeatedly: "This—this—this subject deserves to die! I—I never expected Tuer to be so—so cunning, to collude with Prince Duan and—and evade capture..."
The Empress Dowager would not let him off with a few self-inflicted slaps. Her eyes bulged with hatred as she continued to shriek, "Die!"The officials kneeling on the ground all pretended not to understand, murmuring pleas for her to take care of her sacred health and calm her anger.
Even her most trusted senior palace maid stood rigidly to the side with an expressionless face.
The senior palace maid knew at the sight of the Empress Dowager's "stroke" — with saliva dribbling uncontrollably — that the game was up.
Strangely enough, many years ago, that formidable old dowager had also passed away not long after suffering a stroke. And further back, Xiahou Dan's birth mother, Empress Cizhen, had met a similarly premature end.
Whether the cause of this stroke mirrored those previous incidents was something the senior maid dared not dwell on, nor did she have the mind to speculate further.
Her only thought now was how to save her own skin with the Empress Dowager fallen.
After screaming hoarsely for what seemed like ages, the Empress Dowager's voice finally cracked into sobs, her cries shifting to what sounded like "Help me." A foul odor filled the air — she had lost control of her bowels.
Several ministers offered a few hollow words of comfort, urging her to rest and recover, before hastily retreating as if fleeing for their lives.
Outside the palace gates, they exchanged uneasy glances, their faces etched with misery.
One whispered cautiously, a thread of hope in his voice: "From His Majesty's words at court this morning, it seems he has no intention of purging us. With Prince Duan as his formidable rival, he'll need to cultivate his own faction to consolidate power..."
"You mean he might seek our allegiance?"
Mu Yun, one side of his face still grotesquely swollen, sneered inwardly at this. He put on an exaggerated expression of terror: "R-resign! Quit now! The Emperor doesn't even f-fear matricide!"
Another minister paused, then nodded: "You're right. He's far from benevolent. If he's not purging us now, it's only because we're still useful. What happens after Prince Duan is dealt with? Rather than wait for the rabbit to be cooked after the hunt, resigning now is the true path to survival."
Thus they parted ways, each harboring private schemes. How many would flee, how many would pledge loyalty to Xiahou Dan — only heaven knew.
Mu Yun wondered if his performance had reached Prince Duan's spies. He hoped they'd report it faithfully to clear him of any suspicion of betrayal.
Events seemed to unfold as he wished. Prince Duan summoned him again, sharing new intelligence: "My men have inspected Beishan. The Hall of Offering has several bowl-sized pits — no idea what weapon caused them. For the Emperor to escape alive, he must have kept tricks up his sleeve."
Mu Yun eagerly proposed: "In that case, direct confrontation is unwise. We must strike unprepared, giving him no chance to counter. Does Your Highness recall our previously discussed plan?"
Xiahou Bo remained silent.
Silence meant he remembered, but still hesitated.
Mu Yun pressed: "Your Highness, this must be done sooner rather than later. We cannot allow him to grow stronger."
After years of scheming for legitimacy, having failed to use Tuer as his blade, Prince Duan was now forced to act personally. Even if successful, history would brand him a usurper.
Knowing his concerns, Mu Yun added: "Of course, we need righteous cause. I'll have rumors spread among the people — that the thunderstorm was heaven's warning against the Emperor's matricide. When we act according to plan later, it will seem like divine retribution. The people will believe the Tyrant deserved death."
After a long pause, Xiahou Bo gave a slight nod.
While the entire court trembled in fear, viewing Xiahou Dan as a demon incarnate, the man himself lay corpse-like in bed.
The potent medicine Xiao Tiancai had prescribed only lasted through the morning court session. As its effects faded, he regressed to his previous state.The day was unusually cold. After days of autumn rain, the biting wind from the north carried the first hints of winter. Bei Zhou bustled about, directing palace servants to light the underfloor heating and change the silk quilts, pointedly ignoring Xiahou Dan himself.
Once the others had withdrawn, he busied himself with reorganizing the Shadow Guards.
Xiahou Dan lay half-dead in the bedding: "Uncle Bei."
"......"
"Uncle Bei, some water."
With a loud "thud," Bei Zhou wordlessly set a cup of hot water by the bedside, his movements so forceful that a few drops splashed out.
Xiahou Dan: "......"
Yu Wanyin still had to maintain appearances outside, pretending to know nothing of the situation.
After leaving, she was pulled aside by other panicked concubines for whispered gossip. She followed them to circle the Empress Dowager's chambers—unsuccessful in paying respects—then peeked around the Emperor's quarters only to be turned away by guards.
After going through the entire charade, she was so cold she could no longer feel her toes. Rubbing her hands together, she delivered her final line: "Seems we won't get any information. Let's disperse for now."
But a petite beauty caught her arm.
The beauty smiled sweetly: "Sister Yu, no need to worry. We'll surely hear something by tonight."
Yu Wanyin: "Huh?"
The group exchanged knowing laughs. Another woman took her other arm and whispered, "Sister, with the Empress Dowager ill, no one's delivering the Birth Control Concoction anymore. Perfect time to strive for the imperial heir."
"Exactly! I learned a fashionable peony makeup style recently—let me do it for you."
"Nonsense! Sister Yu's natural beauty is peerless. Heavy makeup would only diminish it! Remember at the Flower Banquet? Even after all her scheming and powdering, Consort Xie still looked ridiculous beside her. But my rosewater is lovely—here, smell..."
Yu Wanyin: "......"
She remembered now. Before the upheaval at Beishan, the palace intrigue plotline had just reached her "return to favor" arc.
With the all-powerful Empress Dowager fallen, not only was the court in turmoil, but the harem was also trembling in its wake.
Thus, Yu Wanyin suddenly became the prime target for flattery.
The beauty clinging to her arm—whose father and brothers belonged to the Empress Dowager faction—had once allied with Shu Fei to bully Yu Wanyin. Now, panic-stricken, she feared Yu Wanyin might use her newfound influence to retaliate or even target her family, hence the desperate attempts to curry favor.
Yet some remained defiant, sneering, "The Emperor's favor is fickle. In my opinion, sister should temper her ambitions."
Yu Wanyin recalled again—this was supposed to be a palace intrigue novel.
But she still hadn't memorized all their names.
Facing the crowd of varied expressions, the "seductive concubine who topples nations" Yu Wanyin pondered before finally declaring: "You know, this palace has always pitted us against each other—comparing looks, comparing family status. It's not a healthy atmosphere."
Concubines: "?"
Yu Wanyin: "And historically, the average lifespan in the harem is tragically short. This situation benefits no one. I propose we introduce something like ping-pong—channel competitive spirit into meaningful activities. Friendship first, competition second. Improve physical health, nurture mental well-being."
Dead silence.
After a long pause, the beauty holding her arm asked, "What's ping-pong?"
When the crowd dispersed, Yu Wanyin slipped back through the secret tunnel to beneath Xiahou Dan's bed.
As soon as she emerged, a wave of warmth hit her, startling her senses.The heated floor kept the inner chamber as warm as spring. From above came Xiahou Dan’s low voice: “…If the imperial physicians can’t manage, you step in. Best to keep the Empress Dowager alive for a full month.”
Xiao Tiancai replied, “This subject will do his utmost.”
Xie Yong’er’s voice chimed in, “Can I ask why?” Her tone carried resentment, still bearing a grudge over the Empress Dowager’s forced abortion.
Xiahou Dan answered curtly, “No.”
Yu Wanyin, lying beneath the bed, sank into contemplation.
The Empress Dowager faction had flooded the Imperial Study with memorials these past two days—pleas for mercy, resignations from office, opportunistic accusations to eliminate rivals—a veritable carnival of chaos. Xiahou Dan had read each one meticulously and scheduled audiences with them in batches.
Looking back now, she realized there had been another layer to Xiahou Dan’s decision not to kill the Empress Dowager immediately: to create a buffer period for smoothly taking over her faction’s power.
With Prince Duan as their formidable enemy and their own side lacking strength, the urgent task was to rapidly expand their forces. The easiest allies to recruit now were those vested interests about to lose their privileges—the crumbling Empress Dowager faction.
Acting rashly against them would mean heavy losses on both sides, handing Prince Duan an advantage. The ideal purge of corrupt officials would have to wait for gradual implementation later.
Though Yu Wanyin hadn’t personally dealt with these officials, she’d read their depictions in the text. That crowd had alternately cajoled and deceived Xiahou Dan while paying lip service, all the while exploiting the Emperor’s name to line their pockets through layers of corruption, never restraining their underhanded schemes. Even as an observer, she longed to fast-forward to the day of reckoning.
Yet Xiahou Dan had endured it.
Whether at life-and-death moments on Mount Bei or now during this surge of authority, every choice he’d made turned out to be the optimal solution upon reflection.
In terms of temperament and vision, he could already be considered an exceptional ruler.
—Perhaps a bit too exceptional.
Who could believe this was just an actor who’d transmigrated barely a year ago?
Xie Yong’er fell silent for a while before belatedly grasping the strategy, muttering, “Ruthless.”
Ruthless to others, even more ruthless to himself.
Xiahou Dan asked, “Which members of the Empress Dowager faction are Prince Duan’s spies?”
Xie Yong’er: “…”
Xiahou Dan: “Don’t hesitate. Compile a list and submit it honestly later. You’re already tied to us on this rope. If Prince Duan survives this round, you’re dead. Be proactive with any intelligence.”
Swallowing her anger, Xie Yong’er said, “Understood.”
Xiao Tiancai followed Xie Yong’er as they took their leave. Once in a secluded spot, his footsteps gradually slowed as he stared at her retreating figure.
“Your Highness.”
Xie Yong’er turned back.
The youth hesitated for a long moment before speaking: “Didn’t you say you were moved by His Majesty’s sincerity?”
Xiahou Dan’s earlier behavior had practically nailed the label “pawn” to her forehead.
Looking at Xiao Tiancai’s expression of naive innocence untouched by worldly suffering, Xie Yong’er gave a bitter laugh. “How many true affections exist in this world? I merely switched sides to survive until they determine the victor.”
Even she found her own words unbearably bleak upon hearing them. Xiao Tiancai stood frozen, clearly at a loss for how to respond.
Xie Yong’er gathered the shattered fragments of her dignity and inhaled sharply. “Let’s go.”
From behind came a question: “After they determine the victor… then what?”
She detected a hidden note of anticipation in his voice.However, she was no longer in high spirits and had no intention of engaging with any man. She shrugged, "Probably figuring out how to escape."
Xiao Tiancai fell silent.
Xie Yong'er looked up blankly at the sky framed by the palace eaves. "Isn't it ironic? I was so determined to possess this world, yet I don't even know what it truly looks like."
Inner chamber.
Yu Wanyin crawled out from under the bed. "Finished your little meeting?"
"Finished," Xiahou Dan replied, leaning against the headboard.
Yu Wanyin's limbs had warmed up, and she felt alive again. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she took a sip of tea and frowned at Xiahou Dan. "Is it just me, or do you look even worse than this morning?"
Before Xiahou Dan could answer, Bei Zhou, who had been standing by the wall, snorted coldly.
Xiahou Dan shot him a quick glance—a silent plea: Don't tell her about the medicine.
Bei Zhou snorted even louder and left.
Yu Wanyin: "?"
Xiahou Dan: "It's nothing. The wound is just healing slowly. The poison from the Qiang Kingdom was too potent. Surviving it was already a miracle."
Yu Wanyin narrowed her eyes at him, dragging out her words. "Dan, why do you always keep things from me?"
Whether there was a double meaning to that question, only Yu Wanyin knew.
Xiahou Dan forced a stiff smile. "I don't."
Unconsciously, Yu Wanyin realized she could now read a lot from his expressions, even his gaze.
Yesterday, he had just returned from the brink of death, yet his mental state had been oddly calm. But now, his dark eyes had dimmed again, as if silently enduring something.
Yu Wanyin: "Your head hurts again?"
Xiahou Dan: "..."
Xiahou Dan: "How did you know?"
"I know more than you think."
Yu Wanyin didn't get the reaction she expected. Xiahou Dan didn't take the bait, feigning ignorance with a smile. "As expected of you."
Failing to provoke him, Yu Wanyin gave up on the topic. "Lie down. Let me massage it for you."
In truth, the massage wouldn't alleviate his headache. But he liked the suggestion and eagerly leaned his head toward her. Yu Wanyin warmed her fingers and expertly pressed his temples. "Close your eyes."
Xiahou Dan obeyed, feigning sleep.
Outside, the wind howled, making the room feel even quieter.
After a long while, Xiahou Dan spoke softly. "Are you okay?"
"Me?"
"The people who died on the mountain—" He kept his eyes closed, as if carefully choosing his words. "They would have died regardless. Even if they completed their mission, Prince Duan would have silenced them. So, their deaths weren't your fault."
Yu Wanyin slowed her movements.
She found it almost laughable. "Are you giving me psychological counseling?"
Xiahou Dan opened his eyes to look at her, his gaze unreadable.
"We went through the same thing. If anyone needs counseling, it should be mutual." She lightly tapped his forehead. "It wasn't your fault either."
Xiahou Dan continued staring at her intently, so long that Yu Wanyin began to feel uneasy.
She touched her face. "Is there something on me?"
"No." Xiahou Dan finally looked away. "You smell nice."
"Nice?" Yu Wanyin sniffed herself and laughed. "Your beloved concubines doused me in rosewater."
"Why would they do that?"
Yu Wanyin recalled the phrase "work harder to leave behind a royal heir" and felt her face heat up. "No reason."
"Tell me."“Headache gone? Then I’ll take my leave.”
Xiahou Dan hastily grabbed the hem of her skirt: “No no no, I won’t ask anymore…”
When the Shadow Guard arrived at the door with the secret letter, this was the scene he witnessed: the severely injured Emperor, risking his life to play some tug-of-war game with the bewitching consort.
The Shadow Guard paused mid-step, about to retreat the way he came, when Xiahou Dan caught sight of him: “What is it?”
Yu Wanyin quickly straightened up.
Shadow Guard: “A letter from Mr. Bai.”
Yu Wanyin: “A Bai?”
The Shadow Guard presented the letter, giving Yu Wanyin a surprised glance. Seeing she showed no intention of leaving and Xiahou Dan didn’t dismiss her either, he couldn’t help but grumble inwardly. As the one responsible for delivering messages to Xiahou Dan, every time he returned to the palace after over a month away, he noticed this consort’s status had risen significantly yet again.
What extraordinary qualities did she possess to have bewitched His Majesty, who had kept away from women for years?
Xiahou Dan had already opened the envelope, scanning the letter inside.
The Shadow Guard heard him actually explain to Yu Wanyin: “I asked A Bai to send people to help Tuer. He replies that it’s done.”
“Send people?”
“…His martial arts brothers.”
Yu Wanyin suddenly understood: “So this was your task for A Bai? The reinforcements you promised Tuer were just a bunch of martial artists? Wait, didn’t A Bai just complete his training this year? How did he manage to rally so many people?”
Xiahou Dan: “…”
Xiahou Dan evaded the question: “He has his ways.”
Yu Wanyin: “A Bai is quite impressive.”
Xiahou Dan pressed his lips together and didn’t respond, instead shaking the envelope upside down. As usual, several pills fell out first, followed by something unexpected.
A silver hairpin, carved into the shape of a bird spreading its wings. But what dangled from the end weren’t tassels—it was two long feathers.
This was clearly not meant for the Emperor.
Xiahou Dan’s smile faded: “Lark.”
He handed the hairpin to Yu Wanyin: “For you. He says your birthday is coming up, this is his gift.”
The Shadow Guard’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. Was this level of drama really something he was allowed to witness? Giving gifts to the Emperor’s woman right in front of him?
The Shadow Guard stole a terrified glance at Yu Wanyin.
Yu Wanyin was caught between laughter and tears: “He really has no fear of death.”
No, Consort, why are you worrying about whether he fears death—aren’t you afraid for your own life?
Yu Wanyin weighed the hairpin in her hand. Seeing Xiahou Dan’s expression that clearly said “If you dare wear this, I’ll kill A Bai,” she quickly set it aside and soothed: “Don’t be angry, he doesn’t mean it like that. Martial artists don’t understand palace etiquette, he just sees me as a friend…”
Xiahou Dan said darkly: “After just a few days together, you’re already friends.”
Yu Wanyin actually found his jealousy amusing, thinking to herself—so much for pretending to be magnanimous, you couldn’t keep it up after all.
The Shadow Guard caught the smile at her lips and felt like he might have a heart attack.
Yu Wanyin leaned down to whisper in Xiahou Dan’s ear: “Your Majesty.”
Xiahou Dan’s ear tickled from her breath and he turned his head away. Like a thousand-year-old fox spirit, Yu Wanyin pursued him relentlessly, murmuring: “Your Majesty… he’s just like a younger brother to me.”
Xiahou Dan: “…”
Shadow Guard: “?”
What did you just say?
Yu Wanyin’s demonic voice pierced their ears: “He said purple has a certain charm.”
Xiahou Dan: “…………”
Xiahou Dan: “Pfft.”
The Shadow Guard thought numbly: This must be what being bewitched feels like.Xiahou Dan lay in bed all day, literally regaining some vitality, and by the next day, he was finally able to struggle out of bed. Immediately, he put on his dignified facade and went out to engage in verbal sparring with the Empress Dowager faction.
Yu Wanyin slept in for the first time in what felt like ages. After rising, she deftly changed into men’s clothing—now a practiced routine—and quietly left the palace with the Shadow Guard. Once confirming no one was tailing them, she silently exited the city gates.
In the graveyard outside the capital, a new tombstone stood.
The pit before the stele had yet to be filled, and beside it rested an empty coffin.
By the time Yu Wanyin stepped out of the carriage, several people were already waiting: Li Yunxi, Yang Duojie, Er Lan, and an elderly couple she had never met before.
The winter wind was even harsher than the day before, whipping at their robes and sleeves. The elderly couple, hunched and leaning on each other for support, gazed at the group with swollen, vacant eyes—as if, though their eyes were open, they barely registered their surroundings. It wasn’t until Yu Wanyin approached that the old woman lifted her head slightly and murmured, “Are you all… my son’s colleagues?”
To avoid Prince Duan’s spies, everyone had disguised themselves before leaving the city, and none could reveal their true names. Even the name carved on the tombstone was merely the alias Wang Zhao had used when he entered court service.
Yang Duojie stepped forward. “Uncle, Aunt, we were all close friends of Brother Wang. We’ve come to see him off.”
In truth, “close friends” might have been an overstatement.
Wang Zhao had been like a little old man, weighing every word he spoke, steady to the point of dullness. No one had ever seen him open up to anyone. Besides, shortly after joining the court, he had left alone for the distant land of Yan.
Yet the elderly couple seemed comforted. “Good, good… At least he has so many friends to see him off.”
Trembling, the couple opened a bundle they had brought and placed a set of clothes inside the coffin, arranging them into the shape of a person.
As the guards began filling the grave, Yu Wanyin felt a cold touch on the tip of her nose. She looked up—the first snow of the year had begun to fall.
That morning, Li Yunxi had gritted his teeth and splurged on a fine jug of wine. Now, he poured a cup and began chanting, “Deep, deep the river waters, above them maple trees. Gazing a thousand miles, the spring heart grieves. O soul, come back! O soul, come back! Alas for the land south of the river…”
The elderly couple wailed in sorrow to the sound of his hoarse, desolate voice.
Yu Wanyin stood silently listening, suddenly recalling a day long ago when she had absentmindedly hummed a tune—badly—and Wang Zhao had overheard. After wrestling with himself for a long moment, he had finally offered his critique: “Your Majesty sings as though the people suffer.”
That had been their only interaction.
What kind of person Wang Zhao had been, what ambitions he had held in life, whether he had ever loved someone, what thoughts had crossed his mind as he lay dying, staring toward Xia—she knew none of it.
All she knew was that the road to the horizon was long, and his grave bore no true name.
When Li Yunxi finished chanting, he poured the wine onto the grave and said, “Brother Wang, with the heavens as your canopy, the mountains and rivers as your hall, the sun and moon as your torches, and the grass and trees as your beams—you are home now.”
The others took turns pouring wine in tribute.
Finally, Li Yunxi poured one last cup. “This is from Brother Cen.”
Yu Wanyin left the grieving couple to mourn in peace and signaled for the officials to step aside.
She asked quietly, “What happened to Cen Jintian?”
Li Yunxi sighed. “Not well.”
“Yesterday, when he heard Yanshu had been secured, he was still happy—even made plans to come see Brother Wang off today. But this morning, he couldn’t get out of bed.”
By the time Yu Wanyin returned to the palace, Xiahou Dan had already met with two groups of people and brought back some news: “Yu Shaoqing is trying every possible way to get a message to you.”
Distracted, Yu Wanyin asked, “Who’s Yu Shaoqing?”
“…Your father.”"Ah. Almost forgot."
"Probably didn't fare well under Prince Duan's command, saw potential here, and wants to cling to your coattails for a new opportunity. This guy was just an extra in the original story, right? Maybe we should give him..." Xiahou Dan's voice trailed off.
Yu Wanyin looked at him.
Xiahou Dan asked, "Have you been crying?"
"No." Yu Wanyin's eyes were indeed dry. She couldn’t remember the last time she had shed tears.
She told him about Cen Jintian.
Xiahou Dan reminded her, "He was originally going to die of illness."
"But in the original story, he at least lived until summer, when the drought came."
"That’s because he thought he would see a bountiful harvest, clinging to that hope. Now that he knows about the drought and that the people will survive it, he has nothing left to hold on to." Xiahou Dan’s voice was calm. "For him, it’s a happy ending."
Yu Wanyin felt a pang of frustration.
She wanted to argue—how could this be considered a happy ending? They had promised Cen Jintian that he would live to see peace and prosperity. Yet, even as they used those words to secure his loyalty, they had known deep down that time was running out. That vision was destined to remain just that—a vision.
But before she could speak, Xiahou Dan seemed to anticipate her words and said in a tone one might use to teach a child, "Wan Yin, you must never forget that they are paper dolls. If you forget that, it will crush you."
The word "paper dolls" felt especially jarring when the echoes of that desolate song and mournful cries still lingered in her ears.
Yu Wanyin blurted out, "That wasn’t your reaction when you heard about Wang Zhao’s death on Beishan."
For a fleeting moment, Xiahou Dan’s gaze darkened. "So I have to remind myself too."
Yu Wanyin fell silent.
Xiahou Dan seemed to consider the conversation over. "It’s dangerous outside lately. Don’t leave the palace again. If you want to visit Cen Jintian, send someone in your stead. Oh, by the way, should I summon your father to the palace to see you?"
"No." Yu Wanyin took a deep breath. "If I don’t see him, he’ll always remain a paper doll."
Xiahou Dan: "..."
Xiahou Dan suddenly remembered that he had once promised her she would never have to change.
He had broken that promise.
He didn’t want to see her in pain, so he had tried to strip her of the right to feel it.
After a long pause, Xiahou Dan asked softly, "Want to have hot pot for dinner?"
"...Huh?"
Xiahou Dan smiled. "Didn’t you always want to gather three people for hot pot and a game of dou dizhu? Now that we have Xie Yong’er, I’ll drag Uncle Bei along too. We can teach him how to play."
Yu Wanyin forced herself to push through her emotions. "Your wound hasn’t healed yet. You shouldn’t eat spicy food, right?"
"We can make a split pot." Xiahou Dan had an inexplicable obsession with hot pot that she couldn’t understand.
Night fell quickly, and the dim warmth of the palace lanterns illuminated the swirling snowflakes.
Yu Wanyin went to the side hall to find Xie Yong’er. To prevent Prince Duan from silencing her, Xie Yong’er was publicly said to be bedridden with illness. In reality, she had been hiding alone in Xiahou Dan’s side hall, with no one to talk to for days.
Xiahou Dan followed her into the courtyard, dismissing the attendant holding an umbrella. He turned toward the door where Bei Zhou was, but his feet remained rooted to the spot.
After an unknown length of time, he brushed the snow from his shoulders and stepped forward to knock. "Uncle, want some hot pot?"
The door opened, and Bei Zhou stared at him expressionlessly.
The reigning Tyrant lowered his eyes meekly. "Don’t be angry. At the time, taking the medicine was the only option."
Bei Zhou sighed silently.
Xiahou Dan: "...Uncle."A weight pressed down on his head as Bei Zhou gave him a pat. "I told you, since you're Nan'er's child, you're my child too. Your uncle has no family or ties in this world, and I've exhausted myself keeping you safe—not for the sake of the nation or the throne. If you shorten your lifespan one more time for this damned imperial seat, I'll tie you up and drag you away, dumping you in some remote corner of the world to live out your days. Understood? Let's go."
Without waiting for an answer, Bei Zhou walked off on his own.
Xiahou Dan remained standing by the door, head still bowed.
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