He didn’t mind dying in the darkness before dawn, but given the chance to step into the radiant sunlight, who would refuse?
“Right now, I…” He trailed off mid-sentence, finding the words too bleak to continue.
He was beginning to feel reluctant to die.
Yu Wanyin was baffled. “What?”
“Nothing.” Xiahou Dan smiled and pulled her back to sit beside him. “Sister’s hair smells so nice.”
The capital had not seen sunlight for seven days, the sky as gloomy as an endless night.
In just a few short days, the Empress Dowager and the Emperor had both passed away, and the Imperial Guards had turned on each other in bloody clashes, terrifying the citizens into barricading their doors and windows, living in constant fear.
Later, the slaughter seemed to subside, but the city-wide curfew remained in place. No one knew how this upheaval had begun or when it would end. But judging by the ultimate victor, Prince Duan was undoubtedly involved.
Prince Duan’s recent actions had thoroughly destroyed the carefully cultivated reputation he had built over the years—dozens of ministers knelt outside the palace for hours, unable to see the Emperor one last time. Such a tragic scene could not be contained by even the thickest palace walls, and by the next day, the news had spread through every street and alley. Even an eighty-year-old grandmother would ask, “Isn’t this some kind of conspiracy?”
Moreover, before the Emperor’s body had even cooled, Prince Duan had openly mobilized forces to hunt down the Empress. Anyone with half a brain could see this was an attempt to eliminate her completely.
For a time, whispers filled the streets.
Then came the Imperial Guards. With a single order from Commander Wen, newly appointed by Prince Duan, anyone caught spreading rumors was to be executed on sight.
After a few households were made examples of, the capital fell into a deathly silence. Pedestrians exchanged fearful glances, and aside from the marching footsteps of patrolling Imperial Guards, not a single human voice could be heard in the streets—it was like a ghost town.
Li Yunxi and the others sat by Cen Jintian’s sickbed.
After Cen Jintian’s suburban villa was discovered by Prince Duan, Xiahou Dan had relocated him to a new hiding place, allowing him to spend his remaining days in peace.
On the day of Xiahou Dan’s passing, Prince Duan ordered the officials to return to their residences to rest. Li Yunxi had a premonition that once they went back, they might never leave again. So, after discussing it with his two friends, they decided to detour and take refuge with Cen Jintian instead.
Sure enough, it wasn’t long before news arrived that the ministers who had knelt outside the palace had been confined to their own homes by the Imperial Guards, forbidden from entering or leaving. It was only a matter of time before Prince Duan’s men found this place.
The group exchanged glances, their expressions grim.
Cen Jintian, wrapped in blankets as he sat on the sickbed, was the first to speak, his tone calm. “Since things have come to this, we should make plans sooner rather than later.”
Thanks to Xiao Tiancai’s recent treatments, his condition had improved somewhat. Judging by his complexion alone, one wouldn’t guess he had only months left to live. Having long been accustomed to illness, he had already come to terms with death, making him the most composed among them.
Cen Jintian analyzed their options: “Right now, there are only two paths to survival. Either resign from office or pledge allegiance to Prince Duan. I doubt any of you are the type to bend the knee…”
“Of course we won’t,” Li Yunxi said firmly.
Yang Duojie sighed. “Yeah, I’m planning to resign.” There was no one left in the palace worth serving, and he couldn’t bear to stay in the city any longer. It was better to return home and care for his parents.
Li Yunxi, however, hesitated. Resigning seemed like too bleak an ending. He began reconsidering his long-held dream of dying a martyr in the grand hall, his name immortalized in history.
“I might actually try pledging allegiance,” Er Lan said airily.
Li Yunxi: “…”Li Yunxi: "What?"
Er Lan showed no sign of jesting: "Most of the pro-emperor faction will likely resign to save their lives now, leaving many vacancies in the court. Prince Duan needs people to serve him and won’t act against the remaining officials in the short term."
Li Yunxi grew anxious, but before he could speak, Cen Jintian frowned and said, "Brother Er, with your intelligence, how could you not know Prince Duan will surely settle scores later?"
"Let’s take it step by step. There’s no need to rush to our deaths just yet," Er Lan replied, seemingly unbothered by discussing life and death in front of the sick. "I believe His Majesty would rather see us protect the people and shield them from the chaos than witness us die in blind loyalty."
Li Yunxi: "..."
Was his lifelong wish that obvious?
Li Yunxi was torn. He was no longer the naive newcomer to the court and understood Er Lan’s good intentions. Yet, bowing to Prince Duan now would be an unbearable humiliation!
After a moment of silence, Cen Jintian spoke slowly, "When a great building is about to collapse, the strength of one person is insignificant. Life is short, Brother Er. You’re in the prime of your youth—why not live for yourself?"
Er Lan smiled and shook her head, her beautiful eyes meeting his steadily. "Brother Cen, you don’t understand. I stay not only for righteousness but also for personal reasons."
Li Yunxi and Yang Duojie both choked on their breath.
Li Yunxi felt a bitter ache in his heart, while Yang Duojie marveled at his sworn brother’s frankness about his unconventional affections.
After what felt like an eternity, Cen Jintian gave a bewildered smile. "So Brother Er has found love here? That’s a joyous occasion."
"Yes, a joyous occasion," Er Lan said as she stood up. "I’ll go check on the situation outside."
She left.
Li Yunxi and Yang Duojie sat stiffly, as if on pins and needles. Cen Jintian lowered his gaze and said nothing more.
After a long silence, Li Yunxi turned and walked out without a word, kicking a pillar in frustration.
Holding his foot, he took a few deep breaths before storming back inside, growling, "Then I won’t leave either!"
Yang Duojie looked around. "...No one’s leaving? Then I’ll go. Someone will need to build your graves someday."
While Yang Duojie hastily drafted his resignation letter that night, Prince Duan stood grim-faced before the Emperor’s body in the coffin.
His trusted aides knelt in rows beside him.
Xiahou Bo’s complexion was ashen, his forehead slick with cold sweat that kept reappearing no matter how often he wiped it. His aides watched nervously, urging, "Your Highness, you must rest and recover from your injuries—"
Xiahou Bo cut them off. "This man—was he brought here by the Central Army?"
"Your Highness, he was escorted by the Central Army. They said General Luo personally interrogated him."
A ruthless glint flashed in Xiahou Bo’s eyes as he peeled back a corner of the mask tightly adhered to the corpse’s face, murmuring to himself, "Even the Central Army would betray me..."
It wasn’t until this "Xiahou Dan" breathed his last that he realized the man was an imposter.
Furious, he had initially planned to suppress the news and continue secretly hunting the real Emperor. But the meddling officials pressed too hard, threatening martyrdom if they couldn’t see His Majesty. Xiahou Bo dared not incite public outrage at such a critical moment, so he had no choice but to let them see the imposter’s corpse.
He then arranged for a swift burial. By insisting Xiahou Dan was already interred, he could later dismiss any reappearance of the real Emperor as a fraud.However, being deceived by this impostor for several days could have fatal consequences. Where had the real Xiahou Dan escaped to? Had he slipped through the encirclement of the three armies when their search became lax, or had he been hidden by one of the factions that betrayed him?
Xiahou Bo was reluctant to suspect the Central Army. He and General Luo had once fought side by side, sharing a bond forged in life-and-death battles. He preferred to believe that General Luo had simply failed to see through the imposter's disguise.
Yet deep down, he knew it was impossible for him to welcome the Central Army into the city without harboring suspicion. Nor could he trust the other two armies.
A sense of desolation, as if abandoned by all, crept into Xiahou Bo's heart.
His trusted aide reminded him, "Your Highness, the three armies will assemble outside the city tomorrow."
Xiahou Bo steadied himself and replied calmly, "Have them set up camp outside the city." He had to guard against Xiahou Dan's potential return.
"Shall Your Highness summon the three generals?"
"Have all three come into the city to see me. Set up ambushes along the way—if anyone acts suspiciously, kill them on the spot. Also, reinforce the city gates and inspect every soldier and supply wagon from the three armies. Anyone with a suspicious appearance must be verified."
The aide noted each instruction. Xiahou Bo then thought of something else. "Bring the Crown Prince to me... and detain the entire household of Yu Shaoqing."
This was to hold them as hostages. Xiahou Dan might not care much about their lives, but for appearances' sake, he couldn't abandon them—if Xiahou Dan truly appeared tomorrow.
Xiahou Bo had prepared for every contingency.
Yet, an unease still lingered in his heart. Perhaps it was because of the weapon Xiahou Dan wielded at the foot of Bei Mountain.
Now that he knew his enemy, he would never allow himself to be within that weapon's range. But the sudden emergence of such a weapon felt like an ominous sign. In Xie Yong'er's prophecy, he was the chosen one. So why, after enduring so long, was Heaven's favor toward him growing ever more scarce?
Now disfigured, barely able to walk, and with his leg injury worsening, Xiahou Bo appeared to his aides as a fallen prince who had lost his once-dominant aura. His restless eyes betrayed only paranoia and suspicion, making him seem even more terrifying than the mad Emperor.
His aides inwardly lamented.
Having come this far, there was no turning back—they could only press on. These men, who had once eagerly awaited Prince Duan's glorious rise, now struggled to conceal their growing fear.
A cold tension hung in the air. Any seasoned soldier would recognize it—the scent of impending defeat.
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