PM - 50

He had originally planned to go back and rest for a bit, but as soon as he stepped through the door, a figure suddenly leaped over from the side and wrapped their arms tightly around his neck. “Old friend, did you miss me?”

The Chancellor panicked. “Why are you back again?”

Lian Zheng grinned mischievously. “Surprised, aren’t you?”

Surprise my foot! The Chancellor’s face was full of disdain. “Did you enter the capital without an imperial decree again? I really need to deal with you properly so that you’ll stay in Tianshui for a full year.”

Clearly, the Chancellor didn’t welcome him, walking briskly away. But Lian Zheng wasn’t one to hold grudges; as the Chancellor walked ahead, he followed behind. “This time, I came back to attend the Emperor’s wedding. Unfortunately, I encountered rain and snow on the way, which delayed me by two days. By the time I arrived in the capital, the celebration was already over… Hey, aren’t you going to ask when I arrived?”

The Chancellor silently hoped it wasn’t last night. But who knew that his troublesome friend would burst out laughing. “Last night.” Instantly, the Chancellor felt dizzy.

“So you spent the entire night outside last night, and ended up staying in the palace!”

Ignoring him, the Chancellor hurried back to his bedroom. Upon entering, he found the bedclothes in disarray and became extremely annoyed. “Lian Zheng, how dare you barge in without permission again?”

The Marquis of Brocade Clothes casually picked at his teeth. “We’ve been friends for over twenty years—why would I need an invitation?” His finger pointed toward a black lacquered cabinet on the eastern side. “By the way, what’s inside this thing? Blood-stained bedding and pants—surely not yours, right? And what about that belly warmer…”

Unable to restrain himself, the Chancellor kicked him. “You went through my things again!”

Lian Zheng winced from the kick. “You value romance over friendship. You never kept secrets from me before.”

Things were different now. Back then, they were both single men with nothing to hide, but how could things remain the same now!

Feeling gloomy, the Chancellor gave off an air of suspicion. Lian Zheng nudged him with his shoulder. “So, was your night filled with political discussions, or was there something else pressing?”

The Chancellor ignored him, his face cold as he turned to instruct the maids outside to bring him clean clothes. Lian Zheng eyed him sideways. “Do you need to change your pants? Was last night difficult?”

The Chancellor blushed and scolded him. “Stop making things up! Why couldn’t you have gone back to your own residence first, even just to wash up before coming to see me? Look at yourself—filthy and unkempt, sleeping in my bedroom. I feel like killing you and throwing your body into a well outside the city!”

Of course, the Marquis of Brocade Clothes wasn’t easily intimidated. The Chancellor’s threats weren’t new, and he had long since become immune to them. As the maids brought in fresh robes, the Chancellor retreated behind a screen to change. Meanwhile, Lian Zheng poked at the charcoal fire in the beast-footed brazier with tongs, speaking slowly and deliberately: “I always knew heroes find it hard to resist the allure of beauties. Didn’t I warn you earlier? Yet you stubbornly refused to admit it. Now look, everything I said has come true. Aren’t you going to thank me for being such a good matchmaker?”

The Chancellor remained silent, either reflecting inwardly or brewing a storm. Lian Zheng sat cross-legged on the reed mat, quite content with himself. Soon, the Chancellor emerged from the inner chamber, his face stern as he began to interrogate him. “How did Lady Chaisang find out about her?”

Lian Zheng hesitated, naturally not daring to admit that he had leaked the news to the Young Emperor. He turned his head away and muttered, “What does it have to do with me?”

The Chancellor sneered. “You’re the only one who knows about it. It definitely involves you.”

Lian Zheng wasn’t good at lying. Under the Chancellor’s hawk-like gaze, he felt a wave of guilt. Before the Chancellor could press him further, Lian Zheng threw caution to the wind and admitted, straightening his neck defiantly: “Yes, I told the Young Emperor. So what? Aren’t you two doing fine? I know your personality best. If the Young Emperor hadn’t persisted relentlessly, who knows how long you’d still be pretending. Yan Xiangru, you’re almost thirty—stop being so pretentious, or you’ll end up unable to have children. Look at me—I’m only thinking of your benefit. Instead of thanking me, you’re blaming me?”

The Chancellor calmed down. Though Lian Zheng’s loose lips could be annoying, he never harbored ill intentions. Deciding not to dwell on it, the Chancellor moved on.

A pot of wine had been warming on the stove. He picked it up and poured Lian Zheng a cup. “You came back late and missed a good show. Yesterday, during the grand feast in the Palace of Eternal Longevity, the King of Chu challenged me. The other kings of the Yuan clan watched from the sidelines like spectators. I know many are eagerly waiting for the Young Emperor to take personal control of the government.”

Lian Zheng set down his wine cup and chuckled. “If I had been there, I would’ve given that old turtle a piece of my mind. Can’t even manage his own fiefdom, yet he has the audacity to meddle in court affairs! In the end, it all depends on the Young Emperor’s will. The feudal lords scattered across the land have no grounds to interfere. If the King of Chu wants to lead, suppress him firmly—that’s your specialty. I bet he was smug yesterday in the hall, but today, he’s probably regretting it deeply.”

The Chancellor laughed after hearing this, taking a sip of wine. “You’re right. Too much ease breeds unrest.”

“There are also those who flatter you. I heard early this morning that the King of Jiaodong and Lord Xiaying sent their stewards with visiting cards, but unfortunately, you weren’t home yet.”

The Chancellor exhaled slowly. Some people opposed him, while others sought to curry favor—this was the art of balance. He knew these individuals wouldn’t cause any real trouble anytime soon, so a polite reception would suffice. Turning his head, he scrutinized Lian Zheng carefully. “Tianshui is bitterly cold during this long winter. How will you endure it? Let me give you someone!”

Lian Zheng eyed him warily. “Who? Are you plotting something against me?”

The Chancellor rolled his eyes at him, stood up, and called for the steward, giving him quiet instructions. The steward nodded and quickly left.

Sometimes, a girl’s heart can be as small as a sesame seed or a green bean. The Young Emperor’s heart was vast enough to hold the nation, but it had no room for that woman from Wei. Since there was no intention of keeping her, having her in his residence was inappropriate. Better to send her to Lian Zheng, who could take her back and settle her elsewhere.

Raising his wine cup again, the Chancellor clinked it against Lian Zheng’s. “Yuan Heng sent me a beauty from Wei.”

Lian Zheng raised an eyebrow. “Prince Wei Yuan Heng? He must be unhappy seeing you remain unmarried for so long…” Catching the Chancellor’s fierce glare, he hastily swallowed the rest of his sentence and laughed awkwardly. “Well, he certainly has good intentions.”

The Chancellor lowered his eyes. “It’s inconvenient for her to stay here. Take her back with you—it’ll be good to have someone take care of your daily needs.”

Lian Zheng nodded. “I understand. If she stays here any longer, she might not live to see next month. But I’m quite particular…”

The Chancellor assured him. “She’s decent enough—you won’t have any trouble.”

For the Chancellor to describe her as “decent enough” meant she was undoubtedly a stunning beauty. Lian Zheng got the hint. Hearing footsteps approaching from the corridor, he leaned back and looked out the window. When he saw her, he was utterly amazed—the woman from Wei was like a figure sculpted from snow. Prince Wei certainly had excellent taste.

He muttered to himself, “The Young Emperor isn’t exactly virtuous. Saving a life is better than building seven pagodas…”

The Chancellor smirked slightly. “Starting tomorrow, you don’t need to visit my residence anymore. Go live your own life.”

The steward reported at the door: “My lord, I’ve brought the person as instructed.”

The Chancellor gestured for her to be brought in. She approached barefoot, bowed deeply, and listened as the Chancellor announced she was being gifted to the Marquis of Brocade Clothes. Her forehead pressed tightly against her hand, and without raising her head, she replied softly, “Yes.”

For a low-born dancing girl, being passed around like this was commonplace. No one thought anything of it. After casually finishing the arrangements, the steward led her away. The Chancellor repeatedly warned Lian Zheng: “I don’t know if you talk in your sleep, but remember this one thing—I forbid you from spending the night with a woman. Got it?”

With secrets weighing on his mind, he feared accidentally revealing them in his dreams. That’s why he dared not let anyone sleep beside him. “In the pursuit of great ambitions, even close kin can be sacrificed,” Lian Zheng said with a bitter smile, his lips betraying a trace of melancholy. “Even if you didn’t say it, I already know. Dying at the hands of enemies is honorable enough, but dying at the hands of loved ones is truly tragic.”

In the game of power, who controls the rise and fall? Everyone is merely a chess piece on the board. Pushed toward life, you live; pushed toward death, you die.

Inside the palace, the Young Emperor listened as Hulü reported on events at the Chancellor’s residence. After a moment, she smiled faintly. “This Lian Zheng—surely the Chancellor owes him from a past life.”

Two attendants were present in the imperial court. Hulü, naturally carefree, contrasted sharply with Shangguan Zhao, who looked visibly worn out over the past two days. Fúwēi glanced at him, her words subtly probing. Slowly, she remarked, “Their friendship has lasted over twenty years. To maintain such loyalty after two decades is rare indeed. Life’s storms reveal the warmth or coldness of hearts. How fortunate the Chancellor is—Lian Zheng, though a nobleman like him, once risked his life for him. Such genuine friendship is forged on the edge of a blade and withstands the harshest trials.”

As she spoke, Shangguan Zhao’s face grew increasingly pale. A dull ache throbbed in her heart. She didn’t even know what she truly wanted.

Once, he was the person she trusted most. But he had seen through her facade. Though the fault wasn’t his, she lashed out in anger, torn between believing him and doubting him. She couldn’t fathom his thoughts. To survive, people often resort to desperate measures. Fear stemmed from guilt. But the Emperor’s fear was something no one could bear.

Standing below, Shangguan Zhao trembled under her veiled warnings. He wished he had died in the Zhaoyu Prison instead. He had to constantly decipher the Young Emperor’s intentions. The current Ying was no longer the Ying who needed his protection. Her mind was as deep as the ocean, chilling him to the bone, leaving him perpetually uneasy.

How could he prove his loyalty? For him, she had always been the most important person. Whatever she commanded—whether advancing his rank or arranging a marriage—he obeyed. Even their shared blood relatives, he was willing to eliminate for her. What more could she ask of him? Yet she didn’t trust him. Her attitude had grown ambiguous; she no longer confided in him as she once did. Both knew they were tormenting each other, but there was no cure for this suffering—it would continue as long as they lived.

Memorials kept arriving at the palace from the Secretariat, all pre-screened by the Chancellor’s office. Yet she reviewed each one meticulously, proving she wasn’t someone easily swayed by emotions. Shangguan Zhao waited outside the steps for a long time, hearing only the sound of scrolls opening and closing within the hall. Gradually, darkness fell, and eunuchs entered carrying lanterns. He stared fixedly at the imperial path, watching the stone lampstands along the sides light up one by one. Trembling in the biting cold, it wasn’t just the temperature—it was the uncertainty of the future.

“Azhao,” her voice called from the hall. He snapped out of his thoughts and quickly entered to report. Seated behind a long desk, she had already set down her vermilion pen. Softly, she asked, “How many days has the Princess been away from the capital?”

Shangguan Zhao bowed. “Today is the third day.”

“The third day…” She mused. “If she traveled quickly, she should be in Hedong by now…”

The embroidered curtains were lit with lamps. The placement of lanterns in the palace followed strict protocols. Unless standing face-to-face with the sovereign, no subordinate could discern the ruler’s intentions. His heart raced as he bowed his head even lower. “Awaiting Your Majesty’s orders.”

Silence enveloped the throne. After a long pause, just as he thought she would dismiss him, he heard her murmur to herself: “I wonder if the Princess misses her mother…”

His mind went blank, and he felt a chill run through his entire body, nearly causing him to collapse.

“Did Langlang say anything to you?”

Struggling to control his trembling voice, he replied, “Your Majesty, no.”

“No… No…” The Young Emperor sighed wistfully. “She used to be such a talkative child. She must miss her mother. Go back and keep her company. If she truly doesn’t want to stay in the palace, send her to see the Princess.”

His legs gave way, and he collapsed to his knees. The armor plates on his greaves dug painfully into his thighs through his crimson robe, yet he felt no pain. Clutching the edge of the reed mat with all his strength, he pressed his forehead hard against the floor and, summoning every ounce of energy, responded, “Yes.”