The Double

Chapter 227: Ambush

"Because he is Ji Heng's enemy, destined for a fight to the death."

The air in the room seemed to freeze. The candle in the lantern flickered precariously, as if it might topple at any moment and burn the entire lantern to ashes.

Jiang Li reached out to steady the lantern. Yin Zhiqing seemed to snap back to reality, exclaiming, "Do you think I would believe your nonsense? Our Yin family has lived in Yunzhong for many years—how could we possibly have a feud with Duke Su? Yin Zhili kidnapping you was his fault, but that doesn't give you the right to slander the Yin family with baseless accusations!"

"What more reason do you need?" Jiang Li replied calmly. "The Yin family's departure from Yanjing is reason enough. Even if the Yin family hasn't harmed Ji Heng, have they never harmed his family? I doubt it."

Yin Zhiqing trembled with rage. The more composed Jiang Li appeared, the more unreasonable Yin Zhiqing seemed. She wanted to defend her family but didn't know where to start. Growing increasingly irritated by Jiang Li's presence, she blurted out, "Even if what you say is true, you’re overestimating yourself! How could you, a single person, become a threat to Duke Su? Everyone knows Duke Su is heartless and indifferent, fond of standing by idly. You’re merely a wife bestowed upon him by the emperor, a pawn in the dealings between noble families! Why would he risk danger for a pawn? Don’t flatter yourself—rest assured, he won’t come to save you or put himself in harm’s way for your sake!"

"Is that so?" Jiang Li actually smiled, her tone almost gentle. "Princess Pingyang, just because you haven’t seen something doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. What you cannot obtain isn’t unattainable for others. Ji Heng personally requested the marriage from the emperor. Even if I am a pawn in a transaction, I hold value. You are not like me, or else he would have sought to marry you instead."

"You..." Yin Zhiqing was stunned, Jiang Li's words exploding in her mind like thunder. Her hidden feelings were laid bare by the victor in such a tone. She could no longer stay there and, without another word, shoved the door open and ran out, not even bothering to check if Jiang Li had touched the food basket.

The moment the door swung open, Jiang Li saw clearly: the house was surrounded on all sides by guards—yes, guards clad in armor.

Jiang Li sat back down in the chair, realizing the situation was worse than she had thought. If this had been orchestrated solely by Yin Zhili, it might have been manageable. Having met Yin Zhili a few times, she knew that, regardless of his cunning, he was somewhat indecisive and soft-hearted, leaving room for opportunity. But it seemed Yin Zhili had merely accepted this plan; the mastermind behind it was undoubtedly Yin Zhan. Only Yin Zhan would ruthlessly cut off Haitang’s finger to threaten Jiang Li, his words dripping with cruelty.

Yin Zhan had arranged everything, and Yin Zhili was merely following his orders. That was why Yin Zhiqing knew nothing about it. What troubled Jiang Li was her inability to see Yin Zhili, leaving her with no news of Situ Jiuyue, Ye Mingyu, or the others.One thing was certain: since it was Yin Zhan's arrangement, Yin Zhili's path served as Yin Zhan's contingency plan. If Yin Zhan was currently confronting Ji Heng, he must be nearby—close enough to command Yin Zhili to execute a second plan, using her as leverage against Ji Heng should the situation demand it.

Jiang Li couldn't help but clench her fists.

Knowing Ji Heng was nearby yet unaware of his exact whereabouts or circumstances tormented her. But there was nothing she could do. Her only hope was that Yin Zhili would honor their agreement and spare Ye Mingyu and the others.

Otherwise... Her gaze fell upon the food basket on the table. The shards of the broken plate were sharp enough to be lethal. In this world, living was arduous, but death came easily.

In this transaction, she could not afford to lose everything.

...

The snow fell heavily in Qingzhou.

North of the Long River lay the northern territories, while south of it was the south. Qingzhou, situated along the river, embodied the charm of the south in spring, with vibrant flowers and lush willows, and the harshness of the north in winter, with snow blanketing the skies.

Yet even in the desolate winter, the Red Pavilion remained a haven of warmth and revelry. Stepping inside felt like entering the blossoming days of spring. Young women clad in sheer gauze dresses, their bare feet sinking into the snow-white carpets, adorned with delicate silver bells on their wrists and ankles, moved with soft grace and captivating allure. Candles carved into lotus blossoms bloomed layer by layer as their wicks burned. Amid crimson drapes and golden dust, music and dance flourished—a treasury of jewels and beauties beyond price.

Here, officials in court robes mingled with scholars in white, sword-carrying knights with dissolute young masters. For one night, they sought solace and warmth in the winter chill, where distinctions of nobility and commonality blurred.

On the second floor, beaded curtains separated each room. The shimmering strands, illuminated by lantern light, resembled the crystalline flowers said to dance in the palaces of dragons, or the icicles hanging from trees in the snowy wilderness—a fleeting beauty evoking pity for its inevitable melt and the passing of spring nights.

On the stage, a play was underway.

The Red Pavilion had never hosted theatrical troupes before. Only the songs, dances, and melodies of women had graced its halls. Operas were the delight of noble ladies and young mistresses. Here, everything catered to men, and today's performance was no exception—a lavish gesture by a patron who had persuaded the proprietress to break tradition.

The troupe performed none other than The King's Farewell to His Concubine, a favorite among many ladies. The tragic parting of a beauty from her hero was a tale that had moved hearts since ancient times. Some mourned the hero's fate, others admired the beauty's loyalty, while some saw only the triumph of the victor and the defeat of the vanquished. To a few, it was merely a spectacle of others' joys and sorrows—a play to be watched and forgotten.

The hall was filled with beauties, the stage graced by a beauty, and behind the beaded curtains sat another—a man in crimson robes, vivid as flowing fire, the fabric cascading around him. The inner collar embroidered with a black serpent added a sinister touch to the brilliance. Yet his face was exquisitely beautiful, surpassing even the painted, legendary allure of the concubine on stage. His amber phoenix eyes, half-intoxicated with emotion, curved with a subtle smile. The lotus-shaped candlelight reflected on the beads, tracing his long lashes, straight nose, and settling on his rosy, delicate lips. In his hand, he held an ornate folding fan, swaying it leisurely.As if to dispel the frivolity and warmth in the room.

Beside him sat several others, all dressed in fine robes and jade belts, appearing like ordinary young nobles, yet their faces bore no smiles, serving as motionless attendants—six in total. Seated on either side of the red-robed man were none other than Zhao Ke and Wen Ji.

The colors within the beaded curtain were more alluring than any courtesan in the entire Red Mansion, yet the curtain shielded them from prying eyes. On the table, the lingering aroma of clear tea wafted from the cups, while incense smoke curled delicately from a nearby burner.

On the stage, the performer sang: "Boldly venturing into the tiger’s den, luring the dragon to the shore. Your humble servant Li Zuoche pays homage to His Majesty, the King of a Thousand Years!"

Suddenly, a loud "Bravo!" erupted from the neighboring room. Following the applause, a command of "Reward!" was heard, and a gold ingot flew out from a room on the second floor, soaring over the heads of the performers onstage and landing squarely in the upper left corner of a silver tray on the front table, used for holding teapots.

The audience below was momentarily stunned, then burst into cheers, craning their necks to look upstairs.

Ji Heng’s hand continued to toy with his fan as he tilted his head slightly, as if trying to peer through the beaded curtain to see who was in the neighboring room.

The performers onstage paid no mind to this and continued their act. No matter what the nobles did—even if an assassin suddenly rushed the stage—as long as no one died, the show must go on. Such was the way of theater troupes; to offend the nobility would only lead to a wretched fate.

As the performers sang on with melodious yet sorrowful voices, the cries of "Bravo!" from behind the neighboring beaded curtain persisted. One gold ingot after another flew downstairs, each landing perfectly and neatly on the silver tray, without the slightest deviation. The cheers from below grew even louder. The performers sang with renewed vigor, their voices evoking such passion and heartbreak that it stirred the blood and wrenched the heart.

When the lyrics reached, "My mind is set, no need for further counsel. Truly: With your guidance, victory is assured; we shall march at once to crush the Han army," Ji Heng closed his folding fan and stood up.

He pushed aside the beaded curtain and stepped out.

The others in the room followed suit, and the red-robed young man strode to the neighboring room—the source of the gold ingots—lifted the curtain with his fan, and entered uninvited.

Inside was a table of guests.

The table was laden with fine wine and hearty dishes, primarily beef and strong liquor, exuding a rugged simplicity. Seven men dressed in coarse cloth and leather boots, with rough and bold appearances, seemed to hail from military backgrounds. Their leader, a tall, handsome middle-aged man with a resolute and rugged demeanor, held a dagger, slicing off a piece of beef and chewing it heartily before tilting his head back to chug from a jar of wine. The sight alone stirred one’s blood. This man was none other than the Prince of Xia, Yin Zhan.

Ji Heng and the six elegantly dressed men behind him entered.

Yin Zhan finished his drink, tossed the wine jar aside, wiped his mouth, and exclaimed with gusto before turning to Ji Heng. He laughed heartily and said, "Duke Su is here as well! Please!"

Ji Heng did not refuse and leisurely took a seat.

The room was vast and spacious, with a long table where Yin Zhan’s men occupied only half the seats, as if intentionally leaving the other half for Ji Heng’s party—as though they had long anticipated his arrival. The two men sat at opposite ends of the table. Yin Zhan raised his wine jar to Ji Heng, who responded with a light laugh. Wen Ji handed him a wine pot, and Ji Heng, resting his head on one hand, tilted it back to drink. The gesture was effortlessly elegant and captivating.

A toast was raised.Ji Heng curled his lips. "Lord of Xia County, you certainly gave us quite the chase."

"Yet Duke Su still found me." Yin Zhan smiled carelessly. "The waves behind drive on those before!" Raising his jar again: "To you!"

Outside, women's laughter, men's banter, and spectators' cheers all vanished in an instant. Apart from the guests at this table behind the beaded curtain, only the actors on the stage outside continued singing incessantly.

"The moonlight flickers, in the golden wind, drums and horns sound desolate. I recall joining the campaign on the battlefield, unaware how many frosts have passed. When will my wish to return home be fulfilled, with weapons destroyed under the sun and moon?" Consort Yu turned around, her voice mournful and bleak: "I, Consort Yu under the tent of the Conqueror of Western Chu, raised deep within women's quarters, skilled in books and swords since youth; since following my king, campaigning east and west through hardship and toil, I know not when peace will finally come!"

"Consort Yu, oh Consort Yu!" This exclamation came from Yin Zhan's lips, his expression wistful as if recalling something, before he downed a cup of wine in silence.

Ji Heng looked at him with a faint, ambiguous smile. "Lord of Xia County speaks from the heart. I wonder if you're thinking of Lin Roujia, or my mother, Yu Hongye."

Yin Zhan's hand holding the wine jar froze. After a moment, he looked at Ji Heng and laughed heartily. "Hongye! Hongye's son is truly as clever as Hongye herself."

Ji Heng picked up the wine pot, poured himself a small cup, took a sip, and smiled. "Pity that no matter how clever, he still died by your hand, Lord of Xia County."

These words, neither light nor heavy, silenced all the previously chatting and laughing guests. Whether rough men in linen clothes and leather boots or young masters in brocade robes and jade belts, all acted as if they hadn't heard the words. They continued eating and drinking as before, but no one spoke.

The banquet atmosphere grew eerily quiet, from which a sense of tragedy emerged.

Outside, the opera continued, right up to Han Xin's achievement in the Ambush from Ten Sides, dismounting to climb the mountain path. Eight Han generals holding banners deployed formations, while Li Zuoche lured Xiang Yu into the trap.

"Lord of Xia County," Ji Heng spoke cheerfully, "Ambush from Ten Sides - doesn't this opera feel familiar? Does it remind you of something? Should I remind you how twenty-three years ago at Red Mountain Temple, you lured your sworn brother, my father, into a trap, with a hundred archers blocking the escape routes, their arrows tipped with poison? The world praises General Zhaode as an upright and honorable man, but everyone forgets one saying: 'No poison, no true man.' Isn't that right?"

Yin Zhan looked at the young man before him. This youth was exceptionally handsome, and even when speaking of his own parents' tragic fate, he could maintain a casual smile. That smile contained ferocious cruelty that seemed almost devouring, yet also hid a wicked innocence that could make one stumble into a trap from which there was no escape.

The Ji Heng before his eyes suddenly grew blurry - sometimes resembling that always laughing close friend Ji Mínghán who would clap his shoulder, sometimes resembling the clever, sharp-tongued, and peerlessly beautiful Yu Hongye.

Twenty-three years ago, when Eastern Xia invaded, the young Golden Crow General led troops to battle. Yu Hongye in Yanjing fell gravely ill before Ji Mínghán's return and passed away. The world never learned what truly happened, only knowing that all servants inside and outside the Ji household were replaced. From then on, Ji Mínghán disappeared without trace, leaving behind Ji Heng to depend on Old General Ji for survival.What the truth actually was, no one cared anymore. Time flowed like a long river, burying all vibrant colors until they grew old and insignificant, sinking to the riverbed, never to be mentioned again. Yet not everyone forgot.

How exactly did Yu Hongye die?

Yin Zhan recalled that afternoon decades ago, when he and the Empress Dowager were entangled in a secluded corner of the palace. Who could have imagined Yu Hongye would appear at that very moment? Her emergence was so perfectly timed that even the palace servants keeping watch outside failed to notice. To this day, Yin Zhan still couldn’t fathom why Yu Hongye had been there that day.

But this was the grave crime of defiling the inner palace—a crime punishable by death. While Yin Zhan still hesitated, the Empress Dowager had already ordered her attendants to seize Yu Hongye.

Yu Hongye had given birth to Ji Heng less than a year prior, and Yin Zhan was reluctant to act. Though she was only a concubine’s daughter from the Yu family, Yu Hongye was renowned throughout the land for her talent and breathtaking beauty—she was the beloved woman of Ji Mínghán. There had been good times; he still remembered accompanying Ji Mínghán to visit Yu Hongye, drinking and singing joyfully, clinking cups in merriment. But carefree days had turned into a web of murderous schemes—how could he bring himself to harm this sister-in-law?

Lin Roujia stared at him coldly and said, "Yin Zhan, do you want to be the death of me?"

In that instant, Yin Zhan shuddered and suddenly understood. He hesitated no longer. He even ordered his subordinates to violate Yu Hongye before killing her, then had her body discarded at the Ji family’s doorstep under cover of night. Only in this way—with a defiled corpse—would the Ji family, to preserve their dignity, surely not dare to publicize the matter. And his good brother Ji Mínghán, who loved Yu Hongye so deeply, would not allow her to be scorned even in death.

Everything went exactly as he had planned.

Ji Heng toyed with a folding fan in his hand. His crimson robes stood out starkly amid the revelry, a fierce, mournful red. His voice still carried a smile, but it was peculiarly sinister, piercingly cold: "I saw my mother’s corpse with my own eyes back then."

With that seemingly casual remark, Yin Zhan suddenly understood what Ji Heng meant.

Could a one-year-old child retain memories? Could they comprehend? Perhaps it was possible. Having witnessed such a scene, perhaps it was the first time darkness touched his life—far too early—so he had long been trapped in hell, striking a deal with demons to return to the mortal world.

Yin Zhan laughed heartily and gulped down several mouthfuls of wine, then said to Ji Heng, "Well, my apologies for that!"

Everything unfolded just as Yin Zhan and Lin Roujia had anticipated. Yu Hongye was the daughter of a disgraced official, merely a concubine’s child who had previously been demoted to a house of pleasure. Ji Mínghán had defied his family’s opposition to marry her, already provoking widespread anger. Now that Yu Hongye was dead, it suited the Ji family elders perfectly. When Ji Mínghán returned triumphantly and learned of his beloved wife’s death, he insisted on seeking justice and uncovering the truth, but he was blocked by all the Ji family elders.

They argued that such a scandal must not be exposed—the Ji family must not become a laughingstock. Burying her under the pretext of a fatal illness—wasn’t that the best outcome for everyone? Did he want the whole world to know what Yu Hongye had endured before her death, that she was defiled, truly proving the saying that a beautiful woman is a harbinger of misfortune?

Even Old General Ji came to persuade Ji Mínghán to swallow his anger and let the matter rest.Furious, Ji Mínghán vowed to break away from the Ji clan and sever all ties with his family. From then on, he left Ji Heng in the care of Old General Ji and dedicated himself to tracking down the real culprit.

Those were truly difficult times.

Yin Zhan never truly wanted to kill Ji Mínghán. In a world teeming with countless outstanding men and heroes, he had developed a rare mutual admiration with Ji Mínghán. He had once dreamed of them fighting side by side on the battlefield, joining forces against their enemies. They had spoken of the setting sun over the vast desert, the crescent moon above the snowy mountains, the bloodthirsty wolf packs, and the swamps infested with venomous snakes. They had competed in drinking games at the tavern and raced horses on the training grounds. Some friendships remain shallow even with white hair, while others bond deeply at first meeting. Yin Zhan believed that the woman he loved most in the world was Lin Roujia, and the man he admired most was Ji Mínghán.

Bound by brotherly loyalty and deep camaraderie, how could he bring himself to harm Ji Mínghán?

Lady Yu was singing: "Since I followed the king east and west in conquest, enduring years of hardship and toil. I resent only the ruthless Qin that tramples the people, leaving the masses in endless suffering and despair."

Xiang Yu then declared: "With my spear, I struck down several generals of the Han camp, yet no valor can guard against the ambush on all sides."

Ji Heng smiled faintly, retrieving a thumb-sized pearl from his sleeve. With a flick of his fan, the pearl shot straight through the tea curtain. A crisp "plop" was heard as the pearl landed steadily in a small green bowl beside a silver plate holding a gold ingot on the first-floor table.

"Superb skill!" Yin Zhan applauded in admiration.

"The Duke of Xia's archery," Ji Heng remarked leisurely, "is also unparalleled."

Yin Zhan smiled without responding.

After Yu Hongye's death, Ji Mínghán never gave up his search for the real culprit. Even when the Yin family opposed him, even if it meant leaving the family, Ji Mínghán was willing to pay any price to avenge Yu Hongye.

At first, Yin Zhan paid little mind, but Ji Mínghán was too relentless. People often said that generals only knew how to fight, that military men lacked cunning. Yet they did not realize that Ji Mínghán was not only a brave general but also a brilliant strategist. He was far from foolish—his mind was sharp, and gradually, he began uncovering clues.

Ji Mínghán never suspected Yin Zhan, likely never imagining that his dear friend could have any reason to harm his wife. He shared the clues he found with Yin Zhan, who gradually sensed the impending danger. Though nothing implicated him or Lin Roujia at the moment, given time, the truth would inevitably link back to them.

Yin Zhan could accept his own fate, but Lin Roujia could not die—she was pregnant.

In the palace, accused of framing a favored consort, Lin Roujia had volunteered to go to the distant Red Mountain Temple for meditation and repentance to prove her innocence, though in truth, she was there to nurture her pregnancy. If Ji Mínghán were to uncover any clues now, and if Yin Zhan and Lin Roujia's affair were exposed, not only would they perish, but their innocent child would also be lost. Yin Zhan held immense hope for this unborn child. To protect Lin Roujia and their child, he was willing to sacrifice everything—even Ji Mínghán.

He told Ji Mínghán that he had found evidence related to the murderer, that it was a matter of great importance, but he was currently at Red Mountain Temple and requested Ji Mínghán to come. At the temple, Yin Zhan had ambushed a hundred archers. To ensure success, the arrows were tipped with the deadly poison of Molan, lethal upon contact with blood.It was an exceptionally cold spring night. To this day, Yin Zhan still couldn't understand why the wind that night was so piercingly cold despite it being springtime—cold enough to seem capable of freezing one's bones, as if the lake could turn to ice at any moment. Ji Mínghán had placed complete trust in him, remaining utterly unguarded, and thus walked straight into the ambush.

Just like the opera lyrics that went: "The spear challenged several generals of the Han camp. Yet, overwhelmed by numbers, victory remained beyond reach."

The play "Ambush on All Sides" was one the soldiers in the camp had also heard. Everyone knew not to seek empty fame like the Conqueror, but when caught in such a situation themselves, there was no such thing as "victory and defeat are common in war." There was no second life to stage a comeback—winning was winning, losing was losing. Yin Zhan watched as Ji Mínghán charged into the ambush like a trapped beast. Fighting one against a hundred, even when hopelessly outnumbered, he displayed astonishing bravery. Ji Mínghán was highly intelligent; the moment he realized he had fallen into a trap, he stopped engaging in prolonged combat and focused solely on escape.

Standing on high ground, Yin Zhan fired the crucial arrow at the lone rider struggling to break through the encirclement.

The arrow struck Ji Mínghán in the back. Just as Yin Zhan was about to give chase, a sudden clamor erupted all around, forcing him to halt. He could not afford to draw too much attention, lest someone discover the anomaly at Red Mountain Temple or uncover Lin Roujia’s predicament. Yet he was certain Ji Mínghán would not survive the night—the poison on the arrow was potent, and a hit meant certain death. Thus, he discreetly dispatched his men to search for Ji Mínghán’s corpse.

But Ji Mínghán vanished without a trace.

For a long time afterward, Yin Zhan inquired everywhere about Ji Mínghán’s whereabouts. He even tried to probe the Ji family in various ways but found nothing. It was as if Ji Mínghán had disappeared from the world. Ji Heng grew up in the Duke’s residence; if Ji Mínghán were still alive, he would have surely come to see Yu Hongye’s son at least once. But he never did.

He had likely died in some forgotten corner.

Yin Zhan sighed with regret.

Later, when Lin Roujia gave birth to a son, Yin Zhan swapped her son with his own wife’s son and killed his wife and child. To dispel the former emperor’s suspicions, he remarried, had more children, left Yanjing City, moved to Yunzhong, and raised Yin Zhili.

Many years passed, and life seemed peaceful. Away from familiar surroundings and surrounded by strangers, Yin Zhan himself forgot the blood-soaked madness he had embraced for Lin Roujia. This was different from the bloodshed on the battlefield, where he protected the people and defended the land. Now… he had deceived friends, murdered family—even his own son—and betrayed comrades.

Did he regret it? It was meaningless. Once he started down this path, there was no turning back. Otherwise, besides those he had harmed, he would lose the most important things in his own life.

Yin Zhan once had a beautiful dream: that the stains of the past, with the deaths of Ji Mínghán and Yu Hongye, would never be discovered. He could smoothly begin his schemes, starting and ending with himself, leaving Yin Zhili a clean and untarnished legacy.

But the moment he returned and laid eyes on Ji Heng, he knew that dream had shattered. Ji Mínghán and Yu Hongye had never truly left. Ji Heng knew everything. Just as Yin Zhan had been plotting in Yunzhong, Ji Heng had been lying in wait in Yanjing. They were evenly matched, locked in a struggle, but most importantly, Ji Heng was young and vigorous, in his prime, while Yin Zhan had grown old.

He could no longer be as valiant as he once was, but perhaps there was one thing he could still do: be even more despicable than before."Prince Xia is actually quite a despicable man." Ji Heng smiled as he finished a cup of wine. "But over the years, I've done plenty of despicable things myself. So this is all meaningless." He stared into Prince Xia's eyes and said slowly, "Would you like to compare—who is more despicable, you or me?"

Yin Zhan froze.

The beauty in red spoke with a smiling face, his tone carrying an unmistakable, heavy murderous intent—just like Yu Hongye of the past. No, he was even more sinister, more ruthless, and more cunning than Yu Hongye. He sat before him, come to collect a debt.

A debt owed twenty-three years ago.

(End of Chapter)