#49: The Dream of Gaining a Deer and Catching Fish (VI)

As soon as the door behind her closed, Ye Tingyan slid down along the cold wall and sat on the floor.

The dim secret chamber was devoid of any lamps, silent like a tomb.

It was too dark, an almost blindness-inducing black. Although he was already familiar with the darkness of closed eyes, being back in such a situation still made him uncontrollably tremble.

Some memories he thought he had completely forgotten came flooding back. Ye Tingyan took a few deep breaths, feeling cold sweat dripping down his temple one drop at a time.

He thought he had grown accustomed to it.

Yet, the darkness with eyes closed and the darkness with eyes open were still so different.

This place was dangerous, separated by just a wall from Song Lan. If this went on, it might trigger his heart condition again. He didn’t dare let himself lose consciousness. So, leaning against the cold wall behind him, he fumbled around aimlessly—any glimmer of light would prevent such panic.

Fortunately, he found a row of tiny air holes, as small as pinpricks.

The light filtering through these holes was as fine as a thread, yet it made him breathe a great sigh of relief.

Ye Tingyan leaned against the wall, exhausted, pulling out a handkerchief from his sleeve and slowly wiping away the cold sweat from his forehead.

Now, thinking back, when he had been in such a situation years ago, he was nearly driven mad, no longer resembling himself at all—the teachings of propriety, righteousness, shame, the six admonishments for rulers, the ways of kingship, Confucianism, and the Mandate of Heaven, learned since childhood, couldn’t withstand the hatred that arose in his heart during moments of despair.

To keep himself lucid, he repeated over and over in his mind: I must kill them, I must kill them.

On the escape route after being rescued at the cost of others’ lives, his eyes were injured, making sight unclear; his right hand was nearly useless, afflicted with the world’s most potent poison, “Decaying Orchids,” suffering deeply from heart disease, life worse than death.

When Pei Xi saw him, he was delirious, unable to lift even an old sword, unresponsive to anyone’s words.

Had Bai Sensen not arrived in time, he might have survived Song Lan’s prison torture but would have perished on the road to the southwest.

Zhou Bai had known him for many years, most familiar with his temperament, while Pei Xi, straightforward and hating evil, believed his talk of “hatred” was genuine hatred. Over the years, upon seeing Luo Wei, he felt disapproval. After some interaction, his view softened, though he still stubbornly refused to admit it.

After all, even Ye Tingyan himself didn’t know if this hatred was real or how much of it existed.

He once thought he was the person who understood Luo Wei the most. Even after falling into misfortune, he firmly believed she had nothing to do with it. Later, when Song Lan presented evidence piece by piece,

before him, forcing him to believe, when he reached his wits’ end, thinking he couldn’t endure anymore, it was this unfounded hatred that kept him alive until now.

Now, curled up in this dark room, he suddenly realized that calling it hatred was not quite accurate—it was more like melancholy. He truly wanted to know whether she knew about those events beforehand? Even if she did, did she hesitate to kill him for power? Even if she didn’t hesitate back then, had she regretted it over the years?

So many questions, none of which he could ask.

First, the timing wasn’t right, and second, deep down, he feared these answers.

If the answers were entirely different from what he imagined, he didn’t know if he would revert to that state of complete alienation from himself.

Thinking of this, Ye Tingyan suddenly shivered down his spine.

Then, he slowly put down the handkerchief in his hand and bitterly smiled in self-ridicule.

Completely unlike “himself”...

How could such an absurd thought arise? He had long become unrecognizable, even to himself.

The only thing that remained unchanged was that those feelings of hatred were still elusive.

Every time he fell ill, he dipped blood to write furiously in his study, feeling he hated Song Lan and her to the core. But when he returned to Biandu and saw her for the first time under the shade of the begonia tree, he knew that perhaps someday everything could start anew, except for her—she was someone he could never defeat.

He couldn’t help but approach her. At first, it was merely to coldly observe if she obtained everything she desired back then. He used to think that if Luo Wei truly did it, if she felt no guilt towards him at all, on the day everything settled, he would surely kill her.

Even if it meant mutual destruction, he wouldn’t care.

But just a fleeting glance from her, just occasional softness, just a hint of ambiguous possibility, and he immediately threw away his armor, forgetting all past hatred.

Even if, in her eyes, he was another person, even if seeing her like this, he still couldn’t resist.

His love was half true, half false, like spring flowers blooming to excess, rotting beyond recognition. He pretended not to smell the decay, persistently, deaf and blind, determined to play out this charade.

Not long ago, Pei Xi told him that since returning to Biandu, he realized that Ye Tingyan never presumed the worst of the Empress. As long as she showed a bit of vulnerability beneath her mask, he willingly forgot everything from the past.

Yes, like this time, when Luo Wei insisted on protecting Qiu Xueyu, he said to her, “Your Majesty is indeed affectionate,” filled with overflowing and joyous delight—though this affection wasn’t for him, just knowing she possessed it meant his previous understanding of her wasn’t false.

Contemptible?

Perhaps.

Thinking of this, the rays of light filtering through those air holes seemed to brighten a little. Ye Tingyan leaned closer, gently curving his lips.

If only he could have seen such light back then, it would have been better, at least avoiding the path to despair, harming others and himself.

While he was thinking this way, he suddenly heard vague sounds near his ear—it turned out he was pressed tightly against the wall, hearing the muffled voices of Luo Wei and Song Lan through the wall.

The two were outside the inner chamber, while he was inside the hidden room within the inner chamber, not very close, so he couldn’t hear clearly.

Ye Tingyan took a deep breath, forcing himself to quickly calm down, then concentrated on listening to their conversation, pressing against the wall.

Once he calmed down, the sounds became much clearer.

After Song Lan pulled back the bed curtains and said that sentence, “Youzhou military report,” he stopped speaking. Luo Wei considerately didn’t continue asking, instead walking directly to the palace door, placing her palm near Li Neiren’s nose.

Earlier, her hands were interlocked with Ye Tingyan’s, and some antidote had transferred to her palms. Li Neiren quickly woke up, apologetically coming into the hall to comb Luo Wei’s hair.

Song Lan sat in front of the bed, quietly watching her until she finished styling a simple and dignified bun, waving her hand to dismiss Li Neiren. Song Lan then sighed, calling out, “Sister...”

Luo Wei responded, “What happened in Beiyou that made you visit here in the middle of the night?”

Song Lan held her hand, caressing her fingertips, his tone ambiguous, saying, “General Yan sent an urgent military report from Beiyou, delivered at top speed into the inner palace. I worried you’d be anxious upon hearing about it tomorrow without knowing the contents, so I came to inform you before the morning court.”

He brushed her bangs behind her ear and continued, “Four days ago, the northern tribes launched a night raid on Yan’s troops stationed in Gerar City, nearly breaching the city. The young general led the resistance, defeating the enemy forces and taking the head of Wang Fengshi, the rebel general of Gerar City, preparing to return to the capital for a report.”

Luo Wei exclaimed, “Wang Fengshi betrayed the country?”

Song Lan looked at her, slowly saying, “Yes—the military report stated so.”

He had large, round apricot eyes. When he was younger, just blinking those eyes would make people soften inexplicably. Luo Wei had marveled countless times at how the palace attendants could bear to mistreat such a lovely child.

Now older, he still had a baby face. Even though she clearly knew his current expression was one of suspicion, she couldn’t help but marvel that without her profound understanding of him, it would be impossible to discern anything from this face.

Since ascending the throne, Song Lan’s reputation was decent—in the eyes of the ministers, although he hadn’t personally taken charge, he managed to balance the confrontation between Yu Qiushi and Luo Wei without causing factional strife, never causing major political upheavals. In the public eye, he honored his late brother and cherished the Empress, at least appearing as a ruler with feelings and righteousness.

Moreover, folk tales circulated about him. It was said that when Little Emperor Zhao passed by the imperial garden and saw a palace maid catching cicadas, he killed them and lamented, “They seek survival.” He decreed that henceforth, palace maids should not catch cicadas in summer. If they found them too noisy, they should capture and release them back into the wild.

This was the good reputation Luo Wei helped build for him.

Thus, when False Dragon Chant appeared and the Gold Sky Guards confiscated copper bells in the marketplace, people talked about it for a long time—a seemingly flawless young emperor whose perfect image cracked for the first time. Though the damage wasn’t significant, the attempt to cover it up aroused immense interest.

Luo Wei gathered her thoughts and followed his earlier words, saying, “The young General Yan should indeed return to the capital for a report—Wang Fengshi was a general sent by Zi Lan to assist the Yan family. If this isn’t explained clearly, wouldn’t it imply the Yan family cannot tolerate others?”

Song Lan quickly said, “If the Yan family can’t tolerate others, what will you do, Sister?”

Luo Wei calmly answered without hesitation, “You are the ruler, the Yan family are your subjects. If they can’t accept those loyal to you, the Great Yin legal code will handle it. What concern is it of mine?”

Song Lan gazed at her; she didn’t flinch. Finally, it was Song Lan who averted his gaze, smiling, “The Yan family guards our borders. When I ascended the throne, they stood firm with the imperial guards, showing me great favor. I assume it’s all just a misunderstanding. The young General Yan’s willingness to come to the capital shows he has nothing to hide.”

Luo Wei lowered her brows, saying, “Exactly. Once he returns, you can discuss it thoroughly.”

Song Lan coughed, changing the subject, “How’s your injury?”

Luo Wei replied, “It’s not serious. Zilan need not worry; in a few more days, I’ll be fully recovered.”

She turned to look at the flower window. Outside, it was still pitch black, with only faint flickers of lantern light visible. “What time is it now?”

Song Lan answered, “Past midnight. In two hours, it will be time for the morning court. I happened to be reviewing documents in the Qianfang Hall tonight, so I slept later and didn’t miss the young general’s report.”

“Is it really worth General Yan sending an urgent message to disturb your rest?” Luo Wei straightened his collar, scolding lightly, “Considering the distance from Beiyou to Biandu, a fast horse can reach in three days. Presumably, he will arrive tomorrow or the day after. By then, even if Wang Fengshi is guilty and he defended the city meritoriously, he should still be punished for disturbing your peace.”

Song Lan grabbed her hand, turning to kiss it, but Luo Wei instinctively pulled her hand back, leaving his kiss hanging in the air. “Sister…”

Luo Wei awkwardly said, “You didn’t rest well tonight. Why don’t you go back and sleep a little more?”

Song Lan bit his lip and smiled, “What, won’t Sister accommodate me tonight?”

Her heart trembled, and her fingers shook slightly, but she said, “My shoulder injury hasn’t healed yet, I’m afraid…”

“Sister, what are you afraid of? I just thought that sleeping beside you would help me sleep better.” Song Lan rose from the bed and walked towards the hall. Recent affairs in court were intricate, so he hadn’t planned to stay overnight. “Fine, rest well. I…”

Here, he suddenly remembered the palace maid who couldn’t be awakened in front of Luo Wei’s hall earlier. Changing his words mid-sentence, he said, “I feel uneasy. I’d like to borrow your inner chamber to pay respects. I remember you once said that kneeling before the portraits of various deities brings peace when troubled—would Sister mind?”