#209: Settled (5)

Yet, much to his frustration… despite everything, Qi Yin remained calm.

He was still that windless lake. No matter how others tried to hurl boulders into its depths, the surface remained undisturbed. Perhaps the only change was in his eyes—calm, yet tinged with pity, as if he pitied Xiao Ziteng, offering him mercy.

That condescension shattered the last of Xiao Ziteng’s defenses, driving him utterly mad.

He struggled violently, trying to break free from Pei Jian’s grip, screaming at Qi Yin: “Don’t look at me like that! I am the Emperor! You’re nothing but my dog! How dare you pity me? How dare you!”

He thrashed wildly, like a cornered beast. But no matter how strong he was, how could he overpower Pei Jian, a seasoned warrior?

Pei Jian held him firmly. The only mishap came when Xiao Ziteng, in his struggle, accidentally pressed against Pei Jian’s blade, cutting a gash into his neck. A single drop of blood trickled down, adding to the chaos.

Qi Yin sighed, then turned away, perhaps still pitying Xiao Ziteng, unable to bear the sight of his frenzied, undignified state.

Once, they had been classmates, reading brilliant texts together, dreaming of northern conquests. But life was long, and their paths diverged. Eventually, their hearts grew estranged, leading them to this irreparable end.

Five years ago, I lost. Today, you lose. But what does winning or losing truly mean?

We didn’t have to end up like this.

Qi Yin closed his eyes briefly, then waved his hand. Han Feichi, understanding immediately, signaled the soldiers to bind the Emperor with ropes.

Countless court officials stood amidst the chaos, witnessing everything unfold. They watched helplessly as the Emperor, once supreme, was bound like a common prisoner. Their shock and fear were indescribable.

The sky over Liang… had truly changed.

So suddenly, and yet… it felt inevitable.

Still reeling, they heard the bound Emperor let out a chilling laugh. His voice sent shivers down their spines. The earlier struggle had dislodged his golden crown, leaving him disheveled, like a beggar on the street.

He seemed deranged, glaring at Qi Yin with a sinister grin. Han Feichi, impatient, furrowed his brow and gestured for the soldiers to take him away. At that moment, Xiao Ziteng spoke: “Qi Jingchen, do you think you’ve won?”

His voice was low, laced with menace.

“Perhaps you’ve won today at Xiaoshan, but what about Jiankang?” He laughed maniacally. “What about your family? Do you really think I trusted you so blindly, without safeguards? Let me tell you! I’ve ordered the Chief Justice to surround the Qi estate. Everyone in your family is in my hands! Dare to lay a finger on me, and I’ll make every single one of your kin die with me!”

He laughed triumphantly, but Qi Yin only sighed. He couldn’t bear to exchange another word with Xiao Ziteng, instead wearily signaling for him to be taken away.

Xiao Ziteng stared at Qi Yin, incredulous, his peach-blossom eyes wide with disbelief. As he was dragged away, he struggled fiercely, shouting: “The entire Qi family is in my hands! How dare you! You…”

Han Feichi, tired of Xiao Ziteng’s ranting, finally decided to enlighten him.

“What kind of strategist do you think Second Brother is, to not foresee this?” he said coldly. “Your Majesty, spare us. By now, the Chief Justice has likely been subdued by the Privy Council.”

Xiao Ziteng froze, as if someone had clutched his throat, silencing him completely.

And Han Feichi didn’t even mention that his father, Han Shousong, had already seized his uncle’s military seal, secretly mobilizing fifty thousand troops to control Jiankang. Zhao Qinghan had been captured, and the imperial city was secure.

Everything was under control.

The grand scheme would soon be complete.

But just as everything seemed settled…

A shout echoed from the distant wilderness.

At the summit of Xiaoshan’s side ridge, two figures stood silhouetted against the horizon. Everyone looked up, straining to see through the firelight and moonlit haze. Finally, they recognized who stood there.

It was Fu Zhuo, eldest son of the Fu family, and Qi Le, fourth son of the Qi family.

Fu Zhuo was holding Qi Le hostage at the cliff’s edge.

Everyone saw that Fu Zhuo, usually gentle and refined, now appeared near madness, his face twisted with ferocity. He gripped Qi Le’s neck tightly, shouting from the precipice: “Qi Jingchen, release the Emperor! Order your men to retreat! Or I’ll push your brother off the cliff! Let his blood cleanse your sin of treason!”

The sudden twist shocked everyone!

Even those uninvolved in power struggles gasped in alarm.

Some quick-witted ministers, sensing the shifting winds, swiftly aligned themselves with Qi Yin, loudly condemning Fu Zhuo’s despicable actions. Meanwhile, stubborn old scholars, unwilling to see the royal family humiliated, shouted: “Qi Jingchen! The Emperor has treated you well, and Liang owes much to the Qi family! If you repent now and abandon this rebellion, His Majesty, in his magnanimity, will surely punish you leniently for your past contributions! But if you persist, your own brother will die here! Will you forsake your flesh and blood for power? What separates you from beasts?”

Their impassioned words drew nods from other elders. But Han Feichi, exasperated, bellowed: “Old fools! Who gave you the right to question the Left Chancellor’s decisions? —Guards! Seize them! Gag them!”

The soldiers obeyed, quickly restraining the clamoring old scholars. But these learned men weren’t easily silenced—they shouted louder, proclaiming things like “Better to die speaking than live in silence,” presenting themselves as martyrs willing to sacrifice their lives for the Liang dynasty’s legitimacy. The scene descended into utter chaos.

Everything spiraled out of control.

Amidst the turmoil, only Qi Yin and Qi Le remained calm.

They gazed across the noisy crowd, across the steep cliffs, beyond towering trees and rocks.

From afar, they locked eyes.

Qi Yin saw clearly—even in the dim light, he could see Qi Le’s face reddened from Fu Zhuo’s tight grip. Breathing was difficult for him, yet his gaze carried no pain. In fact, Qi Yin thought he saw… a smile.

A smile.

Yes, his younger brother always loved to smile.

He remembered when Qi Le and their third brother entered the family school as children. Master Wang was strict and often punished them with canings. The third brother cried for days and never forgot the humiliation. Qi Le cried too, but soon forgot, happily catching crickets the next day and playing hide-and-seek with the servants.

He never held grudges.

Their father often criticized Qi Le, calling him frivolous and immature, fearing he’d never achieve greatness. But Qi Yin always thought Qi Le was optimistic. Even if he couldn’t accomplish great feats, he’d live happily and peacefully, which was enough. And with himself and the eldest brother to care for him, Qi Le’s future wouldn’t be bleak.

Yet, deep down, Qi Yin knew he hadn’t truly cared for his younger brother. Take, for instance, the spring examinations years ago. He knew Qi Le’s talent warranted placement in the second rank, but for the greater good, he had to deny him to avoid favoritism. It caused Qi Le much anguish.

But even after such a blow, Qi Le only sulked briefly. Qi Yin knew his brother hadn’t changed; he remained optimistic and cheerful, which brought him both relief and guilt.

He intended to make it up to him later, but fate intervened. The Qi family fell overnight, and everything changed. The political arena, once their haven, became a quagmire. Countless relatives were demoted or persecuted, dragging many down with them.

And during this time, Qi Le grew up.

The family’s downfall transformed him. Gone was the carefree child. When everyone else fled outward, Qi Le came to him and said: “Second Brother… I want to help you.”

Those simple words moved Qi Yin deeply.

He felt pride, seeing his younger brother mature. But five years ago, the situation was dire. Even Qi Yin wasn’t sure he’d survive, let alone allow his innocent younger brother to wade into such peril. So, he feigned indifference, rejecting Qi Le’s entry into officialdom, assuming time would teach him to give up—just as he abandoned difficult texts as a child.

But this time, Qi Le persisted to the end.

He took the exams alone, entered officialdom alone, started at the lowest rank, and climbed step by step to where he stood now. As a member of the fallen Qi family, he faced countless humiliations in the bureaucracy. Officials at the Ministry of Rites threw obstacles in his path, yet Qi Le never complained, never sought his brother’s help.

He was no longer the child who cried, “Second Brother, help me!”

He had learned to shoulder everything on his own.

His maturity filled Qi Yin with pride, though he wished Qi Le could remain the carefree child he once was. Then, he’d be safe at home with their parents, not held hostage on the edge of life and death.

Jingkang…

Under the hazy moonlight, Xiaoshan stretched vast.

On the cliff, Qi Le gazed at his second brother through labored breaths.

He saw the same expression Qi Yin wore when they were children. Back then, Qi Le often got into trouble—beaten by teachers or scolded by their father. Whenever he sought Qi Yin’s help, his brother would look at him this way—with a mix of exasperation, protectiveness, and concern.

Now, the most prominent emotion in Qi Yin’s eyes was heartbreak.

Qi Le found it harder to breathe. Behind him, Fu Zhuo continued shouting threats, but Qi Le’s ears rang too loudly to hear clearly.

Yet his vision and thoughts remained sharp.

In fact, his mind had never been clearer.

He saw flashes of the past.

Qi Yin sitting late at night under lamplight, helping him revise essays. Qi Yin shielding him when their father raised a cane. Qi Yin kneeling in the ancestral hall after being punished following the spring examinations. Qi Yin rushing home from the judicial prison after their eldest and third brothers’ troubles. Qi Yin pretending indifference when rejecting his entry into officialdom…

So many memories.

Especially one amusing incident from childhood. Qi Le and the third brother, mischievous as ever, once climbed a tree to catch cicadas. Climbing up was exhilarating, but descending proved daunting—they realized the tree was much taller than it seemed. Frightened, they cried and called for help. After some time, servants discovered them, and Qi Yin hurried over.

He looked at them with exasperation but didn’t scold them. Instead, he told them to jump and arranged for two servants to catch them below.

Terrified, they sobbed loudly. Qi Le remembered wiping his tears and saying, “Second Brother… I’m scared.”

He didn’t know why he said that. The servants were ready to catch them safely, yet he still felt uneasy, believing only Qi Yin’s embrace would bring comfort.

The servants urged him and the third brother to jump, assuring them they’d be caught safely. But Qi Yin didn’t push them. He indulged them, standing beneath the tree with open arms: “Jump. I’ll catch you.”

Eventually, they jumped, and he caught them. They were unharmed, though they inevitably received a beating from their father later. Only much later did Qi Le and the third brother learn that Qi Yin had injured his arm that day—sprained tendons and bones—took a long time to heal.

Second Brother…

I’ve always been useless. No matter how hard I try, I can’t help you. Like in the court, you stand at the forefront, while I only occupy a corner. We are so different.

But you’ve never blamed me. Even when I was useless, even when I once resented you for unrelated matters, you never held it against me.

Second Brother, I’m sorry.

I’m truly useless, and now I’ve become a tool others use to threaten you.

But believe me, Jingkang has grown up. I’m still on the tree, but I don’t want you to catch me this time—I climbed the tree on my own, so I must bear all the consequences.

I know what I need to do.

I have no regrets, just a few words to leave behind.

After I’m gone, please take care of my birth mother, Ning Lan, and my child with her… They are pitiable people. I should have cared for them, but now I won’t have the chance.

And Third Brother… He’s made many mistakes, but he knows he’s wrong. If possible, Second Brother, could you find time to persuade him? These years, he’s locked himself away, unreachable even to me. He cares deeply about you. If you speak to him personally, perhaps he’ll slowly improve.

And… and…

One last thing.

Second Brother, I’m sorry.

But the luckiest thing in my life… was being your brother.

The cliff was steep.

The summer wind turned cold.

Whose figure fell so resolutely into the bottomless abyss?

Everyone screamed.

Everyone shouted.

Sacred Xiaoshan roared like a bustling marketplace, bloody as the depths of hell.

But inside the opulent palace hall, there was only hollow silence.

As silent as Xiao Yizhao’s eyes.

He saw everything.

He saw his once-majestic father, bloodied and humiliated, pinned to the ground by lowly soldiers.

He saw the Left Chancellor’s younger brother pulling his maternal uncle off the cliff.

He saw countless soldiers finally breaking into the palace where he and his mother hid, seizing her.

He saw the despair and hatred in his mother’s eyes.

He saw the endless night.

He was led to the Left Chancellor’s side.

The man’s clothes were still stained with his younger brother’s blood.

And his younger brother’s body… was now an unrecognizable mass of flesh and blood.

He saw the Left Chancellor’s expressionless face, not once glancing at him.

Good.

Xiao Yizhao silently lowered his head, concealing the deep-rooted hatred in his eyes.

The hour of midnight had arrived. The sixth day of the tenth month finally passed.

Everyone remembered… it was a once-in-a-century auspicious day.