#107: The Forest Dweller (VIII)

◎Imperial Mausoleum◎

After the founding of the Yan Dynasty by Emperor Yishi, he passed the throne to his eldest son, who was of mediocre talent. This son became known as Emperor Gao.

During Emperor Gao’s reign, he governed with a hands-off approach. Fortunately, there were few major events from the previous dynasty, and his rule remained mostly uneventful. His greatest contribution to history was constructing a magnificent mausoleum for the Northern Yan imperial family, known as Yue Mausoleum.

The Yue Mausoleum was built on Qishan Mountain outside Bianjing. Its construction consumed vast amounts of manpower and resources, spanning three dynasties. By the time of Emperor Xuan’s reign, the Yue Mausoleum had fallen into disuse, and a new mausoleum, Chang Mausoleum, was constructed on Fenghua Mountain, several miles behind Jinghua Mountain.

Compared to the grandeur of the Yue Mausoleum, the Chang Mausoleum was built in secrecy and simplicity. Emperor Xuan favored frugality, and Emperor De left a will forbidding extravagance even in death, resulting in a modest national funeral. As such, only a small contingent of royal guards was stationed near the Chang Mausoleum, with barriers set up at the foot of the mountain.

The soldiers guarding the mausoleum were drowsy.

Last evening, one of their comrades claimed to have seen someone sneak into the woods of Fenghua Mountain, prompting an extensive but fruitless search.

Everyone dismissed it as paranoia.

After a busy night, nearing dawn, the surroundings grew eerily silent. Even though it was this soldier’s shift tonight, he felt inclined to slack off—after all, the mausoleum had been peaceful for years. Guarding the dead was far less demanding than dealing with the living.

Dozing off, his eyelids grew heavy, and sleep overtook him. Suddenly, the faint sound of rustling footsteps reached his ears. He tried to open his eyes but found himself unable to move.

A faint scent wafted through the air, carried by the wind and quickly dissipated.

Someone was here!

Before he could react further, he felt a cold sensation at his neck.

Pain dulled, and his mouth gaped open as he collapsed into a pool of blood. In his final moments, he managed to force his eyes open.

A figure cloaked in a massive black cape, hood drawn, led about six or seven armored soldiers through the blood-soaked ground, hurrying toward the rear of the imperial mausoleum on Fenghua Mountain.

In the dim light, the last thing he saw was a pair of pale pink embroidered shoes peeking out from beneath the cape.

As the figure stepped closer, Qu You instinctively retreated a step.

Bai Ying froze momentarily, remaining where he stood, and softly said, “If I wanted to kill you, I’ve had countless opportunities. Now that we’re here together, you pose no threat to me. I won’t harm you.”

He seemed to find this amusing, adding with self-deprecating humor, “Even someone as bold as you would fear me now.”

Qu You fumbled to remove a rose-gold hairpin from her head—it was the one Zhou Tan had personally placed in her hair that morning. “Now, I can’t begin to guess what you’re thinking. Isn’t that reason enough to be afraid?”

Bai Ying stopped advancing, standing still. “You just asked me…”

He paused. “When I was young, I lived next door to the eleventh son.”

By speaking so, he confirmed all of Qu You’s earlier suspicions.

The legitimate child of the empress, presumed dead, now stood before her!

Qu You never expected Bai Ying to admit so readily after being bluffed, and cold sweat dripped down her forehead. That morning, she and Zhou Tan had speculated they might be captured and threatened—but never imagined the mastermind would be someone so familiar.

Because of their familiarity, being trapped here with him made her feel uneasy. Zhou Tan’s rescue forces were unknown when they would arrive, and their surroundings were shrouded in chaos. If Bai Ying decided to act, she had no means to resist.

Yet, paradoxically, a part of her felt strangely reassured.

Knowing it was him, she couldn’t help but feel he wouldn’t harm her.

Perhaps it was an illusion, but she didn’t think so.

Bai Ying retrieved a tinderbox from his person—he’d had it all along, merely pretending to search earlier. Now, he no longer hid anything from her.

The candle was relit, and Bai Ying sat at the crude table and chair in the room, keeping his distance.

“When Aguli smuggled me out of the Crown Prince’s residence, she didn’t intend to kill me.”

Bai Ying spoke indifferently, the candlelight casting shadows beneath his lashes. Qu You stared at him—the same face, yet the lively cunning that once animated it had vanished, replaced by icy indifference.

She gazed at him blankly for a moment before realizing that “Aguli” must refer to the Western Sha woman taken in by Emperor De when he was still the Crown Prince.

“She might have thought that keeping me alive, raising me to hate the royal family or become a useless failure, would allow her to torment Song Chang, who wronged her, once everything settled,” Bai Ying sneered slowly. “She didn’t kill me—she only hated me. From the time I could remember, she beat and cursed me. I didn’t understand why… Most mothers are kind, but mine wasn’t. Even as a child, I felt her gaze was terrifying.”

Shortly after Song Shiyan’s birth, Emperor De ascended the throne, posthumously honoring his deceased wife as Empress Dowager, and never remarried. Song Shiyan was the rightful Crown Prince, pampered since childhood. Aside from rigorous studies, he endured no hardship.

Qu You’s heart churned with conflicting emotions, but she couldn’t speak, only sighing deeply.

“When I was six or seven, she brought me back to Bianjing—we had been wandering the cities surrounding Bianjing before then. Perhaps she couldn’t bear it anymore and wanted to see her biological son. We lived on North Street, in a place worse than Fangxin Pavilion. She couldn’t see anyone, so she vented her anger on me… A foreign woman, she showed no restraint. One day, she nearly beat me to death, but she felt satisfied, humming a tune as she left.”

Bai Ying rested his chin on his hand, seemingly recalling vividly. Despite the harrowing nature of his words, a faint smile lingered on his lips. “I dragged myself out of the house, leaving a trail of blood, to beg for help… Fortunately, my master was traveling and happened to stay on North Street. He saved me, pitied me, and repeatedly sought Aguli, offering to take me if she didn’t want to raise me.”

“She wouldn’t agree,” Qu You murmured.

“Of course not. She cursed him in Western Sha dialect, unaware that my master understood it. Surprised, he seized the opportunity to give her a potent concoction.” Bai Ying’s lips curled, his expression sardonic. “A potent medicine, paired with fine wine—she had no one to confide in, driven mad by years of pent-up resentment… That day, my master and I learned my true identity. Finally, I understood why she treated me so harshly—I wasn’t her child.”

“As for whether I believed I was the emperor’s son… I dared not trust it. I only told my master I didn’t want to follow Aguli anymore. But after years together, I couldn’t bring myself to kill her, so I pretended to be respectful and drove her mad with medicine—if Song Shiyan had continued taking the drugs, he would’ve ended up like her.”

Qu You shuddered.

“But I never expected her to survive madness. I hoped she’d perish on her own, yet she was abducted by brothel workers… Still, perhaps it’s fitting. The extra years of torment can be her repayment to me.” Bai Ying shifted tone, speaking indifferently. “I was still young then. I knelt before my master, begging to forget my past life. He took me away from Bianjing, and when we returned, we happened to live next to the eleventh son.”

Finally, he spoke of Bai Shating’s long-missed elder brother.

“The eleventh son couldn’t bear his mother’s humiliation at the main household and came here alone. He had a carefree nature, and we got along well… Unfortunately, fate was cruel. He fell ill with a grave disease, and despite my efforts, he didn’t survive the winter.”

Qu You murmured absently, “He died long ago? Then why, when Scholar Shisan first met you…”

“I specialized in poisons and disguise under my master,” Bai Ying interrupted. “The first time I disguised myself, I practiced on myself. Look—isn’t it flawless? This appearance… I doubt I’ll ever change it back.”

Qu You whispered incredulously, “You’re insane. Why must you—”

“Because I have hatred too,” Bai Ying looked at her tenderly, answering calmly. “Growing up, what did I do wrong? My birth parents abandoned me without a single glance. Aguli hated me to the bone, refusing to even name me, treating me as nothing more than a shadow of her real son—even in madness, she obsessed over finding Song Shiyan to tell him I hadn’t died. Pity I foresaw it.”

“I needed a clean identity to gain your trust. Shadow Three perfectly suited my role, didn’t it? I begged my master to arrange meetings with my uncle and Yuanjun. After much effort, I orchestrated a plan for Yuanjun to poison Song Shiyan slowly… How could I watch her son enjoy what should’ve been mine while I wallowed in filth forever?”

His emotions finally slipped, and the candle trembled under his clenched fist. Qu You saw crimson rage flood his eyes, yet he still smiled. “I forced Aguli to meet Song Shiyan, letting her biological son kill her. I ensured Song Shiyan descended into madness, realizing my schemes only on his deathbed… Hahaha, don’t I deserve this? They owe me. Heaven owes me!”

After laughing enough, he raised his head, coldly staring at Qu You. “Why did you reveal Zhou Tan’s plans to me? Didn’t you already guess I’m no saint? Did you think exposing his strategies would make me repent and embrace righteousness?”

Qu You didn’t answer, gripping the rose-gold hairpin tightly. Its sharp edge cut her fingers, drawing blood. Her heart ached with bitter sorrow. “I knew persuading you was futile, but I had to try…”

Bai Ying seemed not to hear, lost in his own thoughts. “Ah, saints… If only I could… If only I… If only…”

Qu You knew what he meant—if only none of this had happened, if he had grown up as the empress’s son, basking in favor, educated and enlightened, he might have become the dynasty’s most outstanding ruler. Perhaps he could’ve forged noble friendships with Zhou Tan and Su Chaoci—or even lived harmoniously with Song Shiyan, leading a fulfilling life.

“But I have no identity, Youyou,” Bai Ying stood, stepping closer, his tone tragic. “Zhou Tan bore slander across the streets, yet you defended him by pounding the drum of justice twice. Who will vindicate me? Who will seek justice for me?”

He smiled faintly. “I am nothing.”

Qu You’s voice trembled violently. “Then what do you want now?”

The candle behind him extinguished, and abruptly, hurried footsteps echoed outside the pitch-black door, accompanied by a woman’s cries. Someone was rushing toward their hiding place.

“Brother…”

Bai Ying turned his head, his expression unreadable, glancing behind him.