Chapter 68

Xie Ci ran out along the path flanked by artificial hills and bluestone slabs, as if carried by the wind, soaring among clouds, his laughter echoing with unrestrained joy. How could he possibly lie down and fall asleep? Obeying Gu Wan's words, he returned to his courtyard, but soon dashed out again, racing through the alleyways to the grand garden and training ground, his pace swift as the wind, circling again and again, the familiar yet foreign pavilions and blossoms flashing past his eyes. But now, the gloom and melancholy weighing on his heart had vanished.

Facing the wind, he toured the entire mansion anew. This time, he did not avoid his father's or brothers’ courtyards. Seeing the light outside his second brother's door, he paused for a moment and quietly withdrew, then visited his eldest brother's quarters. He entered, straightened the disordered items according to his old memories, and arranged them carefully.

Finally, standing in the main hall, he gazed up at the red-lacquered weapon rack and announced to his elder brother, “Big Brother, I'm soon to have a wife. You were right—Wanwan truly is wonderful. When Mingming returns, I'll bring him here too.”

Smiling at his brother, he turned, pushed the door open, closed it gently behind him, and returned to his own rooms.

Night had deepened, the lamplight a mellow haze. He sat under the lamp, carefully read the slip of paper, then folded it with utmost care, took out the delicate filigree locket, opened it, and placed the note inside. Within the filigree locket, besides the two letters from Lady Xun and Qin Ying, there was also the ruby ring. He took it out, smiling as he turned it in his fingers—the translucent gem shone brilliantly beneath the lamplight. Xie Ci curved his lips in a smile; at last, he would have the chance to give this ring away!

But there was no rush. It seemed a little too soon.

He knew he was so excited that he was being foolish, but it didn’t matter—she would never despise him! In this life, even if the whole world did, she alone would not.

Tonight, Xie Ci’s heart found its home, as if a traveler across the desert, after a thousand miles, had finally reached his oasis. The long-standing anxiety and suffering in his soul felt as though they had been soothed by sweet rain, his parched heart finally nourished. Just as Qin Ying had once thought, there were things she, as his sister-in-law, could not provide. Xie Ci did not know what spiritual solace was, but in this moment, he felt it clearly.

The filigree locket was small and crowded; the ruby ring was wrapped in white silk. He carefully unwrapped the silk, placed the folded note inside, adjusted it, and tucked it back. He no longer minded Gu Wan’s lack of literary talent, treasuring the locket in his palm for a moment before hanging it carefully around his neck. He stood for a while by his desk, then turned and went into the inner room.

The two imperial edicts had already been stored away by Xie Feng, placed in a long box in Xie Ci’s room. Xie Ci walked to the long table beneath the rear window, opened the box, and took out the two rolls of imperial yellow silk, unrolling them. His gaze fell on the words, “All crimes forgiven, past matters not pursued, cleanse your heart and start anew.” Especially the last phrase—cleanse your heart and start anew.

This was the true root of his former despondency. For whom, after all, is such a phrase intended? It stung the eyes, nailing the Xie family father and son to the pillar of shame once more.

But now, reading it again, his state of mind was different. He rolled up the edict and tossed it back into the box, snapping the lid shut.

A surge of pride dispelled the shadows. Xie Ci pushed the box aside and opened the window; silver moonlight spilled over the sill and table. Tonight’s sky was both clear and clouded—on one side, bright stars and a luminous moon; on the other, heavy clouds. Much like his situation and his heart.

Yet he felt nothing could defeat him now. He would fight again, all the way to the end, tireless—so long as she was by his side.

He unclasped the filigree locket, the gleaming silver flashing like a star. He pressed it to his lips and kissed it.

Grateful for everything—she had finally agreed! From now on, he truly had to work harder.

He had lost too much in this life, possessed too little. The happiness he had was precious and fragile, and he must guard it with all his strength. Xie Ci steeled himself: someday, no one would be able to harm him!

Coincidentally, Gu Wan was thinking the same. Beneath the same stars, she had already gone to bed.

After Xie Ci left, she wandered around the elegant, tidy room. She had to admit, though small, it was arranged comfortably, cleaned well, the deep roof and warm light making her instantly feel at ease.

Her mood grew calm. Enough, she thought, let things be!

She shed her outer gauze, lay straight down on the bed. The blanket and pillow smelled newly laundered; the fresh cotton was soft. Breathing in the clean scent, she soon drifted off to sleep.

The night passed without words. Near dawn, Xie Zi woke her, knocking urgently at the door: “Young Madam! Young Master! Feng Kun is here!”

—When Xie Yun first called her “Young Madam,” she found it awkward, so they changed it to “Young Master.” But the younger ones, all under twenty and lively, created their own title, “Young Madam Master.” Gu Wan, not one for airs, often laughed and bantered with them.

Gu Wan sat up with a start, not bothering to correct Xie Zi. Instantly alert, she splashed her face and got out of bed in one leap, slipping on shoes and tying her hair.

Damn, he’s finally here.

She understood Xie Ci’s feelings—being powerless while others controlled life and death was the worst. After everything they’d suffered, she was even a little impatient for the fight. Let them come! She’d rather face danger head-on than wait like a headless fly.

Sooner or later, she’d flatten the lot of them—damn it!

Feng Kun’s arrival was as expected as ripe wheat in autumn fields. Not coming would have been strange. With all his planning, he wasn’t here just to help Xie Ci rise.

Now that Xie Ci’s name was cleared and he had formally entered the bloody stage of Zhongdu, what did Feng Kun intend next? What means would he use to control Xie Ci and Li Yi?

There could be no doubt—that would be the theme of today’s meeting.

Gu Wan quickly tied her hair in a ponytail, washed, dressed in dark purple fitted garments, and strode into the night, swift and sharp as the wind, her skin white as jade, lashes fluttering like butterflies, almond eyes bright yet misty.

As she stepped onto the long corridor, she met Xie Ci coming toward her. He was hastily but impeccably dressed in black and blue martial robes that suited him perfectly, his bearing upright and heroic, eyes keen, back straight—startlingly handsome.

His sword-like brows and starry eyes radiated a natural dignity; his features were refined, his complexion tinged with a subtle, indescribable flush—the glow of joy after good fortune.

Damn, by tomorrow everyone in the house would know he was in love.

As soon as Xie Ci saw Gu Wan, his eyes lit up. He bounded up to her: “Wanwan.”

She shot him a glare, whispering, “Keep it down!” and glanced furtively at Xie Yun and Xie Zi, who, five steps behind, walked forward solemnly, eyes fixed ahead.

Gu Wan: “…”

She was truly flustered now. Xie Ci dared not persist, quickly collecting himself. “Is this better?”

She gave him a sidelong look, barely satisfied. “Fine. Keep it up.”

They walked a bit further. Xie Ci whispered, “I’ll do my best!”

Gu Wan glanced at him—the lamplight made his eyes especially bright and earnest.

She replied, “Let’s do our best together.” Next time, let’s stop being headless flies.

But Xie Ci, in his heart, heard another meaning: She wants to work hard with me! He was overjoyed, his lips quirking into a smile.

But all this private whispering and emotion ceased abruptly as they reached the flower hall of the second courtyard on the east road.

The second courtyard on the west side was built with one bright and two shadowed pavilions, with wings and auxiliary halls. The small flower hall to the left was now ablaze with light.

This courtyard had once belonged to Xie Sanlang, the most fastidious of them all. Beside the flower hall was a small garden, with clusters of bamboo, a rockery of Taihu stone rising from a pond where red goldfish still lived, and wild roses growing up onto the red-painted railing by the water.

Feng Kun stood at the railing, feeding the fish with a tin of food from who knows where.

Today he wore not his bright red qilin robe and gold coronet, but a round-collared robe of bamboo green, matching hat, deep blue cloak—a look that diminished his usual aggression, lending him an air of scholarly elegance, like a refined young man, yet his measured presence suggested a gallant knight.

But of course, all this was an illusion. This was the awe-inspiring power behind the throne, Feng Kun, who made all Zhongdu tremble.

Xie Ci and Gu Wan entered the flower hall. Feng Kun handed the food tin to Huang Xin, who took it and withdrew silently. Feng Kun turned, raised an eyebrow. “Three days apart, and you’re a different man.”

Xie Ci had already hidden any sign of his private feelings for Gu Wan. Tall and imposing, his aura now matched the dark blue martial robe—deep and commanding, the presence of one tempered by war. No longer restrained, it flowed naturally from him.

Feng Kun smiled. “No wonder the likes of Qin Xian and the Xie family army would follow you to the death.”

He was clearly in a good mood. But his smile and words were not to be taken lightly. Xie Ci clasped his fists, cautious: “Feng Chancellor flatters me.”

The three sat at the round table. Madam Xu carefully brought tea for all three. With servants scarce and even fewer women in the house, Madam Xu had taken it upon herself to handle such chores.

The autumn wind rustled the bamboo. Daylight crept into the sky. Feng Kun, without wasting words, glanced at Huang Xin and stopped Madam Xu from leaving. “You stay.”

Huang Xin produced a folder, which Feng Kun tossed onto the table.

Madam Xu was stunned. Gu Wan and Xie Ci both felt their hearts skip. Madam Xu, holding the tray, exchanged a look of shock with Gu Wan.

Feng Kun smiled. “You are the daughter of former Prefect of Taiyuan, Xu Xiang, and Lady Yongjia, and the wife of former Jiazhou Governor, Gu Yan, aren’t you?”

At the mention of these names, Xu’s face went deathly pale.

Gu Wan quickly opened the folder. Inside were numerous backup documents. She and Xie Ci skimmed them, and Gu Wan froze.

She looked at Madam Xu, who trembled, panic and distress on her face, tears brimming in her eyes.

—Gu Wan had always wondered why, though Madam Xu loved her daughter deeply, she so easily remarried, showed little interest in her daughter from her first marriage, and seemed to abandon the past so fully. Even the original host had believed it without question.

Now the answer was clear.

Feng Kun spoke calmly: “In the thirty-second year of Longqing, you married Minister of Personnel Min Wenbin, a core member of the Lin faction. In the thirty-fourth year, you anonymously submitted crucial evidence obtained from his study to Imperial Censor Chen Yonghui, leading to the downfall and execution of Grand Judge Yuan Wenguang. In the thirty-fifth year, you did the same, resulting in the execution of Commander Gao Lian and the seizure of his household. In the thirty-seventh year, you again sent evidence that led to the imprisonment and exile of Director Yao Guangxiao.”

All three had conspired in the false charges against Xu Xiang and Gu Yan.

Madam Xu’s lips quivered. All these years, she had sought vengeance for her parents and husband, marrying into the Lin faction, bearing a son, and earning trust, just to steal evidence and deliver it to the upright Censor Chen. No wonder!

So that was it.

No wonder Gu Wan always felt Madam Xu’s feelings for her stepson were complex—caring, yes, but not with the wholehearted love she showed her. The original host had lost her father young but remembered him as gentle and loving, devoted to her mother. The contrast later was too sharp for her to accept, but Madam Xu had agreed to the remarriage quickly. Now it all made sense.

Tears streamed down Madam Xu’s face as she looked at Gu Wan, panic-stricken, never having imagined this would be uncovered here by Feng Kun.

Don’t panic, don’t panic!

Gu Wan, overwhelmed, took a breath, quickly grasped Madam Xu’s hand and soothed her: “You did nothing wrong. Don’t worry, leave this to me. I’ll handle it.”

She patted her hand, exchanging a glance with Xie Ci.

Feng Kun smiled: “Your brother is not dead. He’s already been brought back from Lingnan.”

Madam Xu’s head shot up—her fleeting thought of suicide vanished, and she was suddenly agitated.

Feng Kun said coolly, “He would have died, had my men not arrived in time. You should be grateful.”

Madam Xu’s brother’s wife had died, leaving only a two-year-old grandson, who was nearly killed as well. To save him, her brother killed someone, lost his grandson, and was imprisoned—any delay, and he’d have died. Exiled for nearly twenty years, surviving against the odds. Madam Xu had tried to find him but failed—exile was nearly a death sentence, and she assumed he was lost.

But Feng Kun was different. If he wanted to find someone, he would.

Gu Wan glanced at Qin Ying, who understood, stepped forward, and guided the distraught Madam Xu out.

Xie Ci’s mind raced. He met Feng Kun’s gaze: “What do you intend next?”

“Why so hasty?” Feng Kun replied, pushing the folder back. “Guess what means His Majesty will use to control you?”

Xie Ci’s face darkened.

If Feng Kun had a way, so would the Emperor—that went without saying. Before, he and Gu Wan, with Qin Ying’s help, had cut off all letters to the Xie family, precisely because of this.

But Feng Kun’s bright, fox-like eyes fell on Gu Wan.

Gu Wan: …

With a voice rich and magnetic, Feng Kun said, “I have some mechanism diagrams—of the palace tunnels.”

Palace tunnels, like drainage, had existed for generations—last-ditch escape routes for the royal family. As a longtime court eunuch, Feng Kun possessed tunnel maps even Lin Guozhang did not. He could guess which area the Emperor would use to imprison the families of Xie Ci and Li Yi, and he happened to have the diagrams.

Xie Ci sprang up, instantly recalling the sounds and peering eyes he had once sensed beneath the old palace. Smart as he was, he realized Feng Kun was likely telling the truth.

Feng Kun smiled faintly. “Don’t worry, it’ll just be a short trip.”

He clapped his hands, and two women in maid’s attire entered. One resembled Gu Wan in figure and features, her makeup increasing the similarity to about sixty percent—enough, as almost no one knew Gu Wan, and she would not be going out. After one identity check, she would be locked away, with no one the wiser.

“She will take your place,” Feng Kun said, glancing at Qin Ying’s exit.

The two maids bowed, silent and meek, but clearly able to defend themselves.

Xie Ci and Gu Wan exchanged a look. They barely had enough women on their side, let alone anyone suitable as a stand-in. The tension in Xie Ci loosened. He sat back. “And then?”

Feng Kun smiled, his fox-like eyes brightening, dangerous elegance mixing with deadly beauty. “You want to kill Zheng Shoufang, don’t you? But he doesn’t want to die.” His smile faded. “He has another master. Soon, someone will come to reclaim you.”

Reclaim?

That word immediately brought one person to Xie Ci’s mind. He frowned. “…The Crown Prince?”

His face darkened.

Feng Kun chuckled. The Xie family was famed for its loyalty. Even when forced to shift allegiance, they had refused, paying with their lives.

So, to reclaim a loyal Xie Ci—only the Crown Prince could do so.

“The Emperor may know,” Feng Kun added, “but he doesn’t mind.”

Xie Ci understood. “Your goal is…the Crown Prince?”

Exactly.

Though the Eastern Palace had faded from politics, with the Third and Fourth Princes gaining prestige, they must not forget—the Emperor still had a legitimate heir, the Crown Prince, merely under house arrest, never charged.

Xie Ci and Gu Wan realized: Feng Kun—and perhaps Lin Guozhang—were eyeing the throne.

The game was reaching its climax. No wonder the Emperor was so anxious.

He probably didn’t know Feng Kun’s plan, but after decades on the throne, he could sense the tightening noose.

Gu Wan knew more—Feng Kun wanted to overthrow the court and kill the Emperor in revenge; Consort Mu was his leash on the beast. But in the end, someone had to take the throne—he couldn’t claim it himself, so the Fourth Prince was the obvious choice, with the Crown Prince as his obstacle.

“The Emperor is cunning, but the Crown Prince is naive.” In the dark, Feng Kun’s lips curved coldly.

The Emperor, by sequestering his heir and sidelining the Eastern Palace, was protecting him. The true successor in his heart had always been the Crown Prince.

The Third Prince was favored, but so long as Lin Guozhang lived, the Emperor would never let him ascend; the Fourth Prince, whom he truly detested, was even less likely. The Emperor’s favor and the Crown Prince’s confinement were all a ruse.

As for the Crown Prince, he was the Empress’s youngest, born after her family’s fall, and lost his mother soon after birth. He was untouched by factionalism, and of all the sons, the Emperor cherished him most—not out of affection, but as the best political choice.

Both parties had seen through this.

Feng Kun leaned back, his smile cold as a lizard’s touch.

“He’s anxious, desperate.”

The Crown Prince, believing himself on the edge, was ready to risk everything—harboring treason, but lacking the spark. Li Yi and Xie Ci were that final spark, handpicked by Feng Kun.

“Xie Ci, all you need do is tell the Emperor the Crown Prince plots rebellion. The rest—leave to me. The Emperor will kill him with his own hands. Then, I’ll have your wife brought back to you.”

Feng Kun stood, tossing the backup documents on the table. “These, and the people, can be yours in time.” Donning his hood, he left with his party.

Xie Ci and Gu Wan exchanged a look, silent.

Xie Ci signaled Xie Yun, who immediately followed Feng Kun’s group into the tunnel. Xie Feng led a team to the adjacent main hall, searching thoroughly for any hidden dangers before declaring it safe.

Afterward, they hurried back to their own quarters.

Once settled in the main hall, Xie Ci lit another oil lamp to brighten the room. “Just a few more days, and our people will arrive.”

Gu Wan stretched and propped her chin in her palm. “So, do you think it’s real?”

It was really a matter of which side to choose. They had considered playing both sides, but there was probably no room for that. They’d have to choose.

They didn’t know yet. Time would tell.

Xie Ci thought for a moment, shook his head. “Too soon to say. We only have Feng Kun’s word, and he’s hardly a saint. There’s no point deciding now, and besides, that’s not what I want to talk about.”

“You’re right. We can’t just be scared into siding with him.” Who knew what deeper motives he had? Gu Wan shrugged. They’d observe for now.

Dawn was breaking, the first white light shining through the window. With the pressure off after dealing with Feng Kun, they both relaxed.

Gu Wan leaned on the table, craning her neck. “Where’s breakfast? Why isn’t it here yet?”

Her long, swan-like neck was fair and graceful, her full earlobes pierced but bare, the holes almost grown over. Her profile was lovely, glowing with health and vitality.

Xie Ci said softly, “Shall I gift you some earrings?”

Her piercings were nearly invisible now.

“Why give me earrings? They’re just something to be grabbed in a fight.” She never wore them for that reason—one tug and they’d rip her earlobe. She had deliberately stopped.

She turned suddenly and saw Xie Ci staring, his rose-petal eyes brighter than ever.

…Well, all right, she remembered—they were officially together now.

But Xie Ci was a rookie at love, and though his confession had been dramatic, he was still all talk. This was his first real romance, and he was a bit lost.

…Wanwan, can I hold your hand?

Trying to keep his lips from curling, Xie Ci struck his most perfect half-profile, straightening his back to appear all the more handsome and imposing.

He was a little nervous. “May I?”

“…All right, go ahead.”

Gu Wan was a bit awkward too. Xie Ci really was outrageously good-looking—the broad shoulders, narrow waist, well-defined muscles visible even under his thin autumn shirt, that face almost criminally beautiful.

But she was used to it.

Since they were together now, she’d take it seriously. She’d never been in such a familiar romance before; she honestly had no idea how.

She noticed his pose, which made her want to laugh.

She stifled it, trying to look casual, watching as Xie Ci carefully reached out, touched her hand, then held it.

They sat at adjacent sides of the table, holding hands beneath it.

At first, it was fine—his hand was calloused, warm, a bit rough. But the touch was too damn familiar, and there was no spark.

Gu Wan tried to find the right feeling, but then…she realized Xie Ci’s palm was sweating. More and more, until it was damp.

Gu Wan: …

She couldn’t help it. “Are you weak or something?”

She couldn’t take it—she shook off his hand and jumped up, staring at him before bursting into laughter. Xie Ci: …

“I’m just nervous.” Flustered, he leapt up. “How could that be?!” He was young—how could he be weak?

Gu Wan laughed so hard she nearly fell over, pounding the table before dashing off to breakfast—she’d choke if she stayed.

Xie Ci: …

He watched her run off, laughing, utterly defeated.

Heavens, how did things end up like this?!

Author’s note:

Xie Ci: Socially dead, please don’t mention me.

Gu Wan: So, what does romance feel like? How do you date someone you already know inside out? Urgent—need advice.