Chapter 69

Gu Wan’s breakfast was nothing elaborate; since she was already out, she simply went to the main kitchen and grabbed two big buns from the steamer to munch on. With manpower stretched thin, she decided not to trouble anyone further.

Madam Xu was already in good spirits, helping out in the kitchen, with Qin Ying by her side. Gu Wan offered a few gentle words of comfort and joined in the work, staying until the main kitchen’s tasks were nearly finished. She then escorted Madam Xu back before returning to her own courtyard.

Upon her return, she learned Xie Ci had visited, waiting hopefully for quite some time before finally being called away by Qin Guan, leaving reluctantly. Hearing about him, Gu Wan chuckled softly.

She let out an “oh,” kicked off her boots with a laugh, entered her room, and threw herself onto the bed with a playful roll. Lying face down on the pillow, she laughed aloud—it really was hilarious. She felt a little overwhelmed by the comedy of it all. Blame Xie Ci.

But truthfully, it wasn’t entirely his fault; it was mostly that they were so familiar with each other.

After finishing her laughter, Gu Wan rubbed her cheeks, sat up, and took out her hair ribbon to re-tie her hair. They were too familiar; their feelings ran deep but not in the usual way. It was that strange mix of intimacy and unfamiliarity, which made it hard to take the next step. Add Xie Ci’s comedic opening, and all her attempts at seriousness evaporated in laughter.

Gu Wan was somewhat worried; she’d never dated someone she knew so well. Would she slip straight into emotional old age? She couldn’t help but imagine kissing Xie Ci, and the thought was almost unimaginable. As for a deep kiss, she instantly wore the expression of an old grandfather on the subway, staring at his phone.

Oh, this won’t do. How could she switch to the romance channel?

Just as she was pondering, she heard two taps at the window. Turning, she saw Xie Ci, his hand gripping the top edge of the side window, half his head poking out.

The house was built on a raised platform, with no corridor on either side, so the side window was quite high off the ground. Gu Wan had asked for discretion; Xie Ci remembered, and with Xie Zi and others guarding the courtyard front and back, he snuck in from the side, quietly crouching at the window.

Xie Ci wore an embarrassed and hopeless expression, but he was drawn back as if by a magnet, his useless hand already tucked behind his back.

Gu Wan’s eyes curved in a smile as she saw him.

Xie Ci: “…”

The blush on his face deepened; he looked so embarrassed he could hardly stay.

Gu Wan walked over—the desk was right by the window. She picked up her flute and tapped his head, “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you sleeping? Isn’t there a lot to do this afternoon? Go, hurry.”

Xie Ci had hardly slept in the palace for those fourteen days, nor in the two days since. His constitution was showing faint shadows under his eyes, and his most important task last night and this morning was to rest and recover his spirits.

He hesitated, then whispered, “Wan Wan, am I really stupid?”

He’d hoped for too much, cared too deeply, and suddenly ruined it for himself. Desperate and upset, he leaned on the windowsill, his eyes rimmed red, tears shimmering.

Gu Wan’s heart melted; she lost all urge to laugh. She leaned on the desk, wiped his tears, “What are you crying for, silly?”

“I’m not going anywhere; why are you so anxious?”

She scolded him softly, truly feeling he was a fool. “Sorry, I was wrong. I shouldn’t have laughed at you.”

She apologized, explaining, “It’s just that I never thought about things that way before. My feelings are different from yours; I haven’t yet made the switch.”

His sincerity was moving, so Gu Wan didn’t want to gloss over things. She intended to treat him seriously, lest she let him down.

She scratched her head, sharing her feelings, “I can’t seem to find the right feeling, can’t get into the mood.”

Her soft fingers brushed her eye corner, and Xie Ci’s sadness vanished. He grabbed her hand, urgent: “How long until you find the feeling? Can you switch tomorrow?”

Gu Wan rolled her eyes, “Do you think feelings are like picking vegetables? Take whichever patch you want, move it wherever you please?!”

Love isn’t cabbage. They were starting anew, in a sense. Gu Wan not only didn’t want to let him down, she didn’t want to let herself down either. She had no wish to slip straight into a familial kind of love.

She’d finally resolved to try romance—if nothing went wrong, it would last a lifetime. There had to be sparks, or it would be so disheartening!

To be honest, at first she had some transference with Xie Ci; she saw in him something of herself and her younger brother, that frustrated, helpless version of herself.

He was so much younger, and at first, she treated him like a younger brother.

His feelings were burning and sincere, and destiny eventually led her to accept him. But the journey from kinship to deep love was a new emotional experience for her.

She was willing to move the earth little by little, to build anew, thinking that in years to come, looking back, it should be a beautiful process and memory.

So she resolved to date him properly, from sparks to the gradual stirring of her heart, to truly falling in love. Anything less wouldn’t be fair to him, and would leave her with lifelong regret.

She looked at him with smiling eyes, sunlight reflecting two tiny images of him in her almond-shaped eyes, and whispered, “Do you know? You’re very important to me, so I don’t want to rush through this.”

Xie Ci held his breath, his lips curling upward, so happy he seemed ready to fly. His eyes sparkled.

Gu Wan smiled, “Don’t be anxious, I’m not either. We have a lifetime ahead!” She wanted that heart-stopping feeling.

Simply between a man and a woman—the spark that starts their new beginning.

A lifetime, the word was so sweet that Xie Ci felt his heart flooded with honey, sweetness overflowing. I’m not anxious, he thought, pivoting on the stone step, but I still want it to happen just a little faster!

The sky hovered between night and dawn. In the east, a pale light bathed the mountains and land; in the west, the grand city’s streets were still shrouded in darkness.

With the imperial birthday approaching, the curfew was suspended for half a month. At dawn, the entire city was already awake—night-soil collectors, shoppers from noble mansions, laborers, vendors pushing carts and driving donkeys, and street shops opening their doors.

Lanterns hung under the eaves, clusters of red and yellow lights swaying gently in the autumn wind.

Two discreet carriages rolled down the blue stone street, their thick velvet carpets muffling all vibration. Feng Kun reclined on a beauty couch, his usual smile vanished, his sharp phoenix eyes open, staring at the swaying curtain, lost in thought.

Huang Xin, kneeling nearby, asked softly, “Prime Minister, shall we keep investigating the Xie family?”

They’d already investigated halfway, starting when Feng Kun left the capital for Qingshui Pass, searching for the Xie family’s hideouts. Feng Kun replied coolly, “Pause for now.” He issued the order—stop the investigation.

Feng Kun sat upright, his blue-curtained carriage winding through the long street. Cold wind lifted the window drapes, and the outline of the grand Duke Loyal and Brave’s residence was half-shadowed in the dawn darkness. Feng Kun stared for a moment, then withdrew his gaze.

He was fully aware of everything that had happened recently in the palace. Xie Ci’s astonishing resilience and character had prompted Feng Kun to reassess him. This was why he’d adjusted his strategy regarding Xie Ci.

“Unexpectedly, both Li Yi and Xie Ci survived.”

The night was quiet. Feng Kun’s lips curled; he had thought only one would make it, but both had passed the test. He’d prepared two plans, intending to use whichever survivor remained, but now, with both alive, he’d choose the optimal one. The goal remained, starting with the Crown Prince, aiming at the Emperor.

Thinking of the old Emperor, his expression turned cold, his sharp, feminine features radiating a bloodthirsty chill. He asked, “Is Kou Chong ready?”

Huang Xin responded immediately, “The Eastern Palace just sent word—Kou Chong says the Crown Prince, hearing about Xie Ci, is restless.”

Feng Kun sneered coldly—a confident Crown Prince indeed. “Let Zheng Shoufang add fuel to the fire!” The mansion at the tunnel exit was close to the Duke of Qi’s residence. As he spoke, they arrived silently, the side door opened, and the carriage was ushered in.

As Feng Kun alighted, a young eunuch came to report, “Master, the Fourth Prince has arrived.”

The autumn morning wind was cold, whipping Feng Kun’s blue cloak.

Hearing this, his fierce expression softened, and he adjusted his demeanor, heading quickly toward the front study.

In this world, only one person could soften Feng Kun’s heart—the Lady Mu. And because of her, the Fourth Prince as well.

The Fourth Prince strongly resembled Lady Mu, with clear, transparent eyes, a round, slightly chubby face, and a delicate chin. He was fifteen, raised in the deep palace, thin and shy.

He came to deliver a message for Lady Mu, but to avoid gossip, there was no written note—just words. The Fourth Prince, Li Rong, said, “Godfather, Mother says she’s well, less burdened by illness lately, not suffering.”

Having the child deliver the message, there was no tender sentiment, just a simple report of well-being.

Fifteen-year-old Li Rong tried to sound cheerful, repeating his mother’s words. But, caring for his mother, his eyes reddened for a moment, though he forced himself to act normal.

Feng Kun knew all about Lady Mu’s situation. He could see through Li Rong’s forced composure, but pretended otherwise, nodding with a pleased, “That’s wonderful.”

Li Rong, understanding his mother’s wishes, feigned a tranquil demeanor. Feng Kun appeared to believe it, offering silent comfort and kindness.

Li Rong was delighted. He had never received much affection, depending on Lady Mu, never enjoying the honors due a prince. Only through Feng Kun did he begin to live comfortably, though he’d suffered from their illicit relationship. Still, the Emperor was distant and cold, while Feng Kun was the only caring, instructive father figure. Li Rong never rejected him for his eunuch status or gossip, and was very affectionate toward him.

Li Rong said, “Godfather, I’ve nearly finished the ‘Expanded Anthology’ you brought me last time!”

Feng Kun smiled, “That’s a rare edition. But I’ve also found ‘Virtuous Gentlemen’s Book,’ just sent from Huainan. It’ll arrive soon, and I’ll have it sent into the palace for you.”

Li Rong had to attend early readings and couldn’t stay long, so after sitting a while, Feng Kun personally saw him off.

The sky brightened, gentle dawn light falling on the steps, gates, and flowerbeds. Li Rong’s features and build closely resembled Lady Mu in her youth. Feng Kun stood, watching the delicate blue-clad youth mount his horse and disappear beyond the gates.

After Li Rong left, Feng Kun’s smile faded. He raised his eyes toward the imperial city, bathed in morning light after a night’s slumber, expressionless as the first ray of sunlight struck the golden glazed tiles atop Jade Spring Palace, reflecting dazzling gold.

Huang Xin resumed the earlier topic, “Prime Minister, what about the Duke Loyal and Brave’s residence?”

Feng Kun suddenly turned, returning to the study, quickly writing a note: “I can help you avenge!” His brush was sharp and forceful, matching his character. He said, “Send it to Xie Ci.”

The old Emperor would certainly try to control Li Yi and Xie Ci, but these two were not easily threatened. Feng Kun said, “Withdraw all those investigating the Xie family.”

He tossed the paper to Huang Xin, who sealed it and ordered it sent out.

It was better to let things flow than block them. Threats weren’t the best strategy; giving them what they desire is the optimal way to drive them. “But our Emperor certainly doesn’t see it this way.”

Feng Kun laughed coldly, “He always thinks that with the power of the throne, life and death are his to command, that not dying is disloyal!” Truly detestable!

Autumn weather brought sunny days and sudden rain at night, wind chilling and wetting the window sills, making everything feel cooler.

The entire Duke’s residence had been thoroughly searched. Xie Ci leaned on his desk, Feng Kun’s note open before him. He stared at it for a long time, undecided, then packed it away in a small hidden compartment.

The compartment was tiny and so well concealed that even during a house search, it had gone unnoticed. Inside were a few trinkets and letters.

Dice, for example, seemed secret and important back then, now useless. But the old letters exchanged with childhood friends, even if about trivial mischief, now felt meaningful.

He flipped through them, placing Zhang Ningyuan’s letters on top—Zhang Ningyuan was the childhood friend who, after Xie Ci’s escape and hunger strike, helped persuade his uncle, Minister Zhang, to intercede for the Xie family women, preserving their exile sentence, and secretly used coded messages on yellow notices.

Years had passed; everything had changed. Now Xie Ci was finally back in the capital, but it was not suitable to contact Zhang Ningyuan.

He sighed, cleaned out the compartment, put the letters from Zhang Ningyuan and Feng Kun back.

Gu Wan called from the steps, “Xie Ci, are you ready? Time to go!”

“Ready!” Xie Ci quickly closed the compartment, grabbed the riding whip, and hurried out.

Gu Wan was dressed in deep green riding attire, her hair bound with a silver crown like a man’s, boots on her feet, spirited and graceful. Xie Ci greeted her with a smile. Gu Wan tapped his head with the whip, “Hurry up, no mischief.”

Xie Ci protested, “I’m not!”

That “lifetime” from Gu Wan gave him immense sweetness and comfort. She also said that now, in this period of transition, familiar yet strange, it was the best time to find the right feeling; miss it and it might never come again, so he mustn’t mess things up.

Xie Ci was clever; he could somewhat grasp what Gu Wan meant. He felt a little disappointed, but it was expected—that’s why they’d hesitated so long before. His heart was settled, sweet and happy, but not being anxious was impossible. He couldn’t wait to fall into passionate love with Gu Wan.

They, along with Xie Yun and Xie Ping, headed quickly to the stables. Qin Guan and others were already there. Everyone mounted their horses and, clearing the threshold, galloped out of the city.

Qin Xian and others had sifted through a large group of personnel—scribes, military officers, inner and outer staff of the Grand General’s residence, and Xie family guards. Upon receiving the imperial edict, they rushed from the north, crossing the Yellow River at a rapid march, and had already arrived.

The so-called opening of the residence equated to the Three Councillors. Xie Ci, now appointed as the Cavalry General, didn’t need the ceremonial equivalence; he had the authority outright. Chen Yan even came in person.

Xie Ci went out to meet them himself, precisely because of Chen Yan.

Qin Xian, Chen Yan, Su Zhen, Kou Wen Shao—a few still held influence at court. In the past, they were considered part of the Xie faction. Chen Yan had been Xie Xinzhong’s trusted aide. Though Xie Xinzhong never formed cliques, relationships of mentorship, kindness, ideals, and experience naturally fostered loyalty.

Moreover, Chen Yan, Kou Wen Shao, Su Zhen, and the late Zhao Heng, were more calculating than the hot-tempered Qin Xian; they were always careful to maintain connections.

Otherwise, when they wanted to exert influence in Zhongdu, though limited, they needed a point of contact.

Now the entire northern region was unified, Qin Xian and the others busy for Xie Ci. After discussion, they decided Chen Yan should go, to prevent Xie Ci suffering from past issues he might not know about.

Galloping down the official road, they soon saw clouds of yellow dust, the autumn wind carrying the urgent rhythm of hooves. Both parties reined in, and from afar, Chen Yan and others saw Xie Ci—taller, sharper, his features resolute, his demeanor steeled by the battlefield, with a wasp waist and ape-like arms, commanding authority, entirely like his father and brother!

Young General!

“Master!!” they shouted, dismounting, dropping to one knee with a loud slap, their voices echoing across the plains, overflowing with excitement and joy.

Xie Ci dismounted, immediately helping Chen Yan up. Chen Yan, having drunk little poison, was slowly recovering, able to ride, though two guards still supported him.

Xie Ci quickly aided him.

Then came Su Wei, Liang Wenhuan, and the trusted aides specially selected by Qin Xian and Chen Yan, like Fang Xinlin and others, and Xie Hai of the Xie family guards.

There were also select elite guards, not many—just a few hundred—but battle-hardened, in black armor, with warhorses, formidable.

In the past, the Xie family guards “Wind, Cloud, Mountain, Sea” were led by Xie Wen, Xie Wu, and Xie Shan, who now followed Xie Xinzhong. Xie Yun, Xie Feng, and Xie Hai remained.

Xie Hai had been managing the external estates and old holdings; now he had arrived.

Reunited, everyone was excited. After greeting Xie Ci, Qin Guan and the others stepped forward, embracing in celebration.

Chen Yan looked toward Zhongdu, exhaling. He was back! This time, it would be life or death!

Xie Ci gently inquired after Chen Yan’s health, as well as Su Wei, Liang Wenhuan, Fang Xinlin, and others, finally pulling up the tearful Xie Hai and patting his shoulder, “All right, let’s go home!”

“Yes!”

They breathed deeply, tidied themselves, mounted up. Su Wei and Qin Guan led the guards ahead to report, entering the city in two groups.

Among those returning was Chen Lang, who had gone to fetch his father. Along the way, Chen Lang noticed the Young General glancing at him several times. At first, he thought there was something wrong with his attire, checked himself, but found nothing.

Back at the Duke’s residence, he saw Xie Ci looking at him again.

Everyone went to freshen up for the family banquet. Xie Ci stood under the corridor, and Chen Lang slipped over, “Master, is there something you need?”

He should have called him “Young General,” but shamelessly used the same familiar term as Xie Yun and others. Truth be told, Xie Ci treated him no less kindly than his elder brother.

Xie Ci hesitated—he had no experience. Originally, he wanted to ask his second sister-in-law, but Qin Ying was emotionally touched lately, spending time with Madam Xu, so it was not appropriate.

Thus, he thought of Chen Lang.

Don’t be fooled by Chen Lang’s penny-pinching ways—he was quite popular in Yunzhou, his bright peach blossom eyes shining, handsome and dashing, Chen Yan’s own son. He enjoyed romance, single before marriage, whether in brothels or among carefree noblewomen, many liked him. He’d had several relationships, always faithful, so his reputation was good, breakups regrettable but amicable.

Xie Ci figured Chen Lang’s experience might offer good advice. Just as he was about to speak, Chen Lang jumped onto the corridor, his bright eyes appearing first.

Xie Ci:

Expressionless, he pushed Chen Lang’s face away, “Never mind, go change, we’ll eat soon.”

Looking at Chen Lang’s eyes, his urge to talk vanished—he was left with the disgust of swallowing a fly. He pushed Chen Lang away and left. Forget it; he’d handle it himself.

Xie Ci thought, gifts between lovers were the easiest way to evoke feelings.

His brothers often gifted their wives, whether a flower picked on the way home or a carefully crafted hairpin. The wives were always surprised, smiling like blossoms.

Xie Ci set the welcome banquet as a family affair, since those present were as close as family. Many, including Chen Yan, wept on the spot, toasting each other thrice.

That day, the elite guards entered the city and residence, all veterans from the northwest campaign, loyal and steadfast. The returnees included seventy or eighty Guiyi soldiers; He Yuan specially wrote back to select men. Their features weren’t so deep-set, resembling Han people, blending in easily.

Xie Ci hosted dozens of tables, welcoming them.

Yet the atmosphere in the capital was tense, like the pressure before a storm, taut and heavy. With Li Yi and Xie Ci’s dramatic entrance, everything reached a climax.

The little world of lively joy didn’t last long.

Arrangements were made for shifts and rooms; the residence was searched again, uncovering another tunnel.

After busy internal preparations, two days later, the fourth day of the ninth month arrived—the imperial birthday.

Xie Ci and Li Yi, the dazzling figures pushed to the forefront, would formally appear today.

Xie Ci donned inner armor, spreading his arms as a purple silk round-collared ceremonial robe, patterned with scarlet waves and cliffs at the hem, was fitted on him. He wore a gold and jade belt, silver hairpin, and a black gauze crown.

His ceremonial attire was both martial and civil; he wore the Cavalry General’s martial dress.

Gu Wan was ready too, her chest wrapped, phoenix crown and colorful garment, a sapphire robe and sash, a crimson skirt. Her crown, adorned with kingfisher feathers and gold, gleamed brilliantly.

Gu Wan deliberately applied a muted makeup; she was beautiful and young, and in this attire, stunning. But attention was not her aim; she quickly darkened her skin tone and features, all to be less conspicuous.

Yet her slender waist and willow-like grace, no matter how she dulled her looks, unless she wore a fake disguise, remained charming. Standing under the corridor, leaning casually against a pillar, she was still striking.

Xie Ci heard she was ready, quickly pulled on his boots, and rushed out.

In the sunlight, his first glance was at Gu Wan’s face, then his gaze involuntarily dropped to the expanse of white skin above her chest.

Gu Wan wasn’t nervous, but he was—he held his breath, clenched his fists, glanced once and quickly looked away.

“What are you looking at?”

Gu Wan knocked his head.

They reverted to their old ways; Xie Ci was elated but also anxious, fearing the best moment to find the right feeling might slip away—so very conflicted.

He quickly said, “I wasn’t looking!”

Gu Wan pursed her lips, ignoring him.

They hurried out to board the carriage. They had debated whether Gu Wan should attend, or disguise herself. But after careful thought, the old Emperor surely knew what she looked like.

Finally, Gu Wan said, “Let’s just go as is!”

No point in unnecessary trouble. At a critical moment, they couldn’t falter. Xie Ci had to accept it.

The carriage rumbled toward the imperial city, passing many other convoys, all kinds of gazes and scrutiny.

Once through the gates, Xie Ci’s expression cooled, indifferent and stern, his gaze like cold lightning, inner emotions unreadable.

After a quarter hour, Li Yi’s group arrived. They met on Vermilion Bird Avenue, exchanged glances, and headed to the palace gate.

Arriving, they dismounted. The guards stayed, the bodyguards handed over their weapons, but could accompany them a bit further—a precedent set by Duke Lin and Feng Kun.

Gu Wan also alighted, as did Lady Yu Manzhen, wife of Prince Xiao Shan, in ceremonial dress, visibly more nervous than Gu Wan. After the last incident at Yunbei warehouse, who knew how things were between Li Yi and her, but from appearances, not bad. Gu Wan raised an eyebrow, smiling.

Yu Manzhen, least wanting to see Gu Wan, pursed her lips and turned away.

Ahead, Xie Ci and Li Yi walked side by side, gazing at the grand imperial city. Li Yi’s eyes were deep, “Let’s go.”

There’s no need to elaborate on the imperial birthday banquet. Along the red carpet, Xie Ci and Li Yi strode side by side, ignoring all stares, up to the Hall of Supreme Harmony.

Colorful canopies extended from the hall doors to the palace gate, tables everywhere, likely more than a thousand.

Below the nine jade steps of the throne, the two rival faction leaders sat—Feng Kun and Duke Lin.

Feng Kun wore a red gold-embroidered qilin robe, a winged cap, his pale face with red lips, sharp and feminine, slightly reclining on a fresh green grand master’s chair.

Duke Lin was a thin, small old man, with white hair and beard, chicken-like skin, a pointed face, resembling a scholarly elder, but with piercing eyes. Behind him sat Duke Lin’s son.

Gu Wan also saw the Lin Empress, now a concubine, demoted to suppress Duke Lin.

Lady Mu was there too, gentle and graceful, in a low-key blue palace gown, barely raising her head.

The Third and Fourth Princes—third was cheerful, down greeting his maternal relatives, toasting, seeming guileless. The Fourth Prince was a delicate, shy youth, sitting quietly, not even visiting the restroom, likely afraid of causing trouble for Lady Mu and Feng Kun.

Gu Wan only saw him glance slightly at Lady Mu, Feng Kun, and the Emperor.

The old Emperor was carried in, his throne replaced by a low golden nanmu couch, shrouded in yellow gauze and placed behind the imperial table.

After the ceremonial cheers, the Emperor laughed, “Here they are, two pillars of Wei—Xie and Li! Come, let all see the might of civil and martial heroes!”

Duke Lin coughed, smiling as if pleased. Feng Kun raised his cup, lips curled in a half-smile.

Xie Ci and Li Yi sat just below Feng Kun and Duke Lin, the highest table beneath the jade steps, four tables in all. They formally took their place on the bloody stage of Zhongdu’s power.

At the Emperor’s opening, officials came forward to toast, each with their own thoughts.

Xie Ci lowered his eyes, drained his cup.

His three years of mourning were up; he had removed mourning attire the day before, along with Chen Yan and others. Today, drinking was no taboo.

Of course, Xie Ci and Li Yi’s thoughts were far from their cups.

At last, as the banquet ended, Xie Ci and Li Yi went to wash their faces, only to be summoned by the Emperor. A middle-aged eunuch in silver-purple robe appeared behind Xie Ci at the hall door.

“General Xie, the Emperor summons you.”

Xie Ci stepped out, Li Yi alongside, exchanging a glance. Led through a side door, they entered Jade Spring Palace.

Tonight, the vast hall was not brightly lit; the Emperor, unable to drink much, had only touched his cup three times. His face was flushed, his single eye sluggish, bloodshot and red.

Half the branch lamps were extinguished, the jade steps on either side unlit, the hall half-dark.

High and commanding, the Emperor’s aged, hoarse voice rang out, “Prepare—Xie Ci’s wife, Madam Gu; Li Yi’s wife and daughter, bring them into the palace within three days.”

Finally, the Emperor casually remarked to Li Yi, “Li Yi’s eldest daughter—isn’t she at Anping Manor, north of Gu County?”

Li Yi’s face changed drastically!

He had arranged two decoys for his daughter—one at the prince’s mansion, now the “Grand Princess,” and another at a suburban estate. But his real daughter was at Anping Manor in Gu County.

The Emperor had noticed Li Yi before Xie Ci—even in the capital, under his nose, only Feng Kun and Duke Lin could hide from him.

At that time, Li Yi could not.

Li Yi froze.

He and Xie Ci bowed slowly, “Thank you for your grace,” gritting their teeth, the words tinged with blood.

Even prepared as they were, when things played out as Feng Kun predicted, Xie Ci used all his self-control to restrain himself.

Back at the residence, he gripped his sword, “clang” as it left the sheath, and with one blow, split the desk in two. The halves crashed to the floor.

Xie Ci’s face was grim and taut.

Gu Wan comforted him, “Don’t worry, just a round trip. Even without Feng Kun’s help, I can come back. It’s not like I have to return immediately; behave for a year or so, a few months, then act. I’ll definitely get out smoothly.”

With the tunnel, she doubted she couldn’t figure it out—she used to work in this field, and there were more than one way.

Gu Wan was quite relaxed; compared to Xie Ci’s earlier panic, she didn’t think it was anything major.

With Feng Kun’s advance warning, she was well prepared and accepted it calmly.

But Xie Ci could not.

The night was deep and black as ink. He tried to force a smile, but after two attempts, it wouldn’t come.

Xie Ci pressed his lips tight.