CT - 70

She was very light. Even when she was on top of him, he could push her away with a slight effort. Her current fearlessness was simply because she was confident he wouldn’t bear to hurt her.

Ye Tingyan stared intensely at her, wanting to curve his lips into a smile, but he couldn’t.

Luo Wei straightened up and glanced outside the curtain—at this moment, how could she not be anxious? But the more urgent the situation, the calmer she had to appear. If she showed even a hint of panic, this game would be for naught.

She pursed her lips, about to say something more to provoke him, when unexpectedly, as she lowered her head, Ye Tingyan seized her neck, abruptly flipped over, and pushed her all the way to the bookshelf.

He had no idea where he got such strength; it caught her completely off guard. Luo Wei’s mind flashed back to the moment he shot an arrow at Mochun Field. She secretly thought she had underestimated him. Although he seemed like a frail scholar, he always carried a sword, so his martial arts must not be bad.

However, the scene before her wasn’t entirely out of control, as she could feel that Ye Tingyan’s hand gripping her neck wasn’t actually exerting force.

All expression had been wiped from Ye Tingyan’s face; now only a blank indifference remained. He applied a little pressure, then quickly released his hand. His eyes were bloodshot, seemingly with tears, or perhaps it was just her illusion.

If he had used more force and left a red mark on her neck, it would have been difficult to explain away.

Luo Wei grabbed the hand that was choking her, and coincidentally touched the scar on his wrist. Her heart suddenly skipped a beat for a moment. She swallowed, maintaining her composure, then took his other hand and guided it to a certain book on the bookshelf.

Ye Tingyan understood her meaning—this was the mechanism to open the secret room.

Luo Wei smiled, maintaining the illusion of composure: “You must think carefully. This secret room was opened by your own hand. I gave you a choice.”

“In life, fame, sensuality, power, authority—which of these is not like smoke and clouds, gone in a snap? Who cherishes you, who understands you, who is worthy of your devotion, who can help you redress your grievances, who can help you write an eternal history?”

At this moment, he was certain he saw the flame of ambition burning in her eyes.

“A wise bird chooses its tree to roost,” Luo Wei said, word by word. “Though this consort cannot compare to ancient sages, compared to him, I at least have the magnanimity to grant you a peaceful end. That knife that fell to the ground the night before, if it were in his hand, what do you think would happen?”

Her smile deepened: “No, do you have the courage to hand a knife to him? You don’t, because before you even drew the knife, you would have guessed the outcome!”

Ye Tingyan finally laughed aloud, but he was laughing at himself—he clearly already knew that she was completely different from before, so why was he still being manipulated by her, again and again and again?

“What do you want?” He had already touched the ancient book, barely suppressing the raging inner demon, and asked in a resentful voice, “The empire?”

Luo Wei did not answer his question directly. The situation was urgent, and she only managed to respond, “This is his story, his empire. I... am not reconciled.”

As she spoke these words, Ye Tingyan moved the ancient book. Luo Wei, with quick eyes and hands, broke free from his grasp and, just like last time, pushed him into the secret room, then returned the ancient book to its place.

The bookshelf slowly moved, emitting a dull, heavy sound. Ye Tingyan fell to the ground, looking at her with red eyes. By the light that had not yet been obscured, she saw clearly this time that there were indeed tears in his eyes.

He trembled slightly, seeming to want to say something, and even raised his hand—a gesture that looked like a plea for help. But she could do nothing to help, only remaining frozen in place, watching helplessly as the light on his face gradually receded.

Finally, he was swallowed by darkness.

There was no time to think of anything else. Luo Wei came back to her senses, swiftly left the inner chamber, and rushed to the bronze mirror. Under the moonlight, she smoothed her disheveled hair, then fastened her front.

Her fingers felt cold and were trembling. She should have been happy; everything was going according to her wishes. From calculating Yu Qiushi to subduing Ye Tingyan, although it was risky, it went so smoothly. After today, he would become her most useful blade, planted by Song Lan’s side.

Even if her previous guesses were inaccurate, it didn’t matter. As long as he understood that she could be a better master than Song Lan, everything could be discussed later.

But why was there such a palpitation in her heart?

She tidied everything, sat motionless before the dressing table, and when she closed her eyes, she could still recall his expression before the secret room door closed. He accepted her coercion, yet he begged for help. Why did he beg for help?

Just like in the mountains of Xiuhqing Temple, he tugged at her sleeve, pleading “don’t go.” And on the night by the window, when he handed her the knife, and in the vast clouds behind Luxing Mountain, he heard the sound of swords breaking the wind and simply closed his eyes.

How much of this emotion was true, and how much was false?

She subconsciously clenched the cold hairpin on the table, and only then, hearing the sound of the door opening in the hall, did she lower her head.

She was clutching the rose gold hairpin that Song Lan had given her that day.

Bloody, golden, cold, and beautiful.

Song Lan pushed the door open and entered. Seeing her still awake, sitting at the dressing table, he was somewhat surprised. He took two steps towards her, then looked back.

His attendants immediately understood his meaning. Before long, Luo Wei heard the clang of armor, suggesting that Song Lan had sent his men ten paces outside the hall.

Luo Wei released the golden hairpin, placed it in her makeup box, and rose to salute Song Lan: “Your Majesty.”

Song Lan stepped forward to help her up, asking gently as usual, “Why isn’t A-jie asleep yet?”

Luo Wei said, “I was waiting for you.”

Song Lan momentarily suspected he had misheard: “You...”

“Doesn’t Your Majesty always suspect me?” Luo Wei interrupted him with a smile. “You had Lord Ye investigate me again and again. The Imperial Guards, medical officers, and even eunuchs in the palace all investigated, and you still weren’t at ease. I truly couldn’t bear to see you so suspicious, so I chose one of the people you sent to monitor me and had them deliver a message to you.”

Song Lan’s eyes grew cold, but he said, “A-jie has confidantes even in the Lin Guard. You truly impress me.”

Luo Wei sighed, reached out and touched his cheek, feigning sorrow: “Wasn’t it all to cure your heart’s ailment?”

She held his hand and led him around the palace hall: “Your Majesty should take a good look tonight, see if there’s anyone you imagine in here.”

Song Lan initially wanted to refuse, but then he heard Luo Wei continue, “When we were children, I often held your hand like this, taking you to banquets, flower viewing, and hunting. When we first met, you weren’t even as tall as me. Now you’re almost of age, about to catch up to your older brother.”

His heart suddenly softened, but upon hearing the words “older brother,” he felt a dull ache and a mix of emotions in his chest. In that moment of distraction, Luo Wei led him into the inner chamber.

After Song Lan entered, he first knelt before the Buddha and kowtowed.

Luo Wei stood behind him, speaking gently, “Zilan is more devout than I am.”

Song Lan knelt on the ground for a long time. Seeing his silence, Luo Wei also fell silent until the candlelight flickered. Song Lan came back to his senses, as if he had finally made a decision, and turned to her, saying, “Grand Tutor Yu is dead, Weiwei, do you have anything you want to tell me?”

Luo Wei leisurely walked to the couch, sat down, and replied with a smile, “What can I say? It’s simply what Your Majesty wishes to hear.”

Song Lan smiled: “What’s the use of asking me? You won’t tell me the truth, just like this inner chamber. I’ve been here many times. You’re so fearless, do you truly think I can’t tell that there’s more to this place?”

He raised his voice. Luo Wei gasped, then rose and turned the lotus-phoenix bone marrow candle beside her. With a click of mechanisms, the wall behind the long couch opened, revealing another secret room!

Song Lan abruptly stood up and looked around, only to find it empty, showing no signs of anyone being there.

He walked closer, sat down beside Luo Wei, and pulled her into his embrace, his tone suddenly softening: “A-jie, I, I was just too afraid, just like back then... These years I often have nightmares, dreaming that you abandoned me, and no matter how much I called you, you wouldn’t turn to look at me.”

Luo Wei gently said perfunctorily, “How could that be?”

She leaned in, actively kissing the side of his cheek. The two had not been intimate for a long time. Song Lan’s eyelashes trembled slightly, and he took the opportunity to press her against the couch: “He’s dead. You no longer have to worry about the constant disputes in court. I told you, you are my family. I don’t even care what you’re thinking; as long as we can be as we are now, I can give you anything.”

Luo Wei closed her eyes and said, “I know.”

She leaned closer to his ear and whispered, “The Yu clan has been exterminated. Yu Suishan is dead. What about Shkang?”

“Though you two had disagreements, you still care about each other,” Song Lan whispered back. “There’s something you don’t know: tonight, the consort committed suicide—it’s for the best. If he had lived, I truly wouldn’t know how to treat Imperial Sister Shkang.”

Luo Wei seized the opportunity and said, “Then I ask Your Majesty for a favor. Shkang is not suitable to remain in the capital. Grant her an enfeoffment and send her out of the capital.”

Song Lan propped himself up and looked directly at her, the warmth in his eyes suddenly diminishing significantly. They stared at each other for a long time before he said meaningfully, “Alright, but I also have a troublesome matter, and I ask A-jie to assist me.”

Luo Wei asked, “What is it?”

Song Lan said, “Young General Yan has stayed in the capital for too long. I fear Youzhou is not peaceful. After much thought, I still think it’s best to have him return early.”

Luo Wei lowered her eyes, remaining silent for a moment.

Her feigned weakness and heart-to-heart talk with him today were originally just to temporarily suppress his eagerness for power, and to gain a favor amidst the warmth. Song Lan and Song Yaofeng were not close. She was Song Ling’s full sister. If she hadn’t married into the Yu family back then, she might have met the same end as Song Qi.

Now that the Yu clan had fallen, Yu Sui’ou knew she could not survive, and sacrificed herself to ensure the safety of others. Song Lan therefore lost his excuse to deal with Song Yaofeng.

She wanted to send Song Yaofeng out of the capital, fearing that Song Lan might one day suddenly remember her.

Song Lan understood her meaning: he wanted her to pressure Yan Lang to leave the capital as an exchange.

Although Yan Lang had an excuse to return to the capital, Song Lan knew very well that he had come back to protect her, to protect her from being discarded like a rabbit when the hound is no longer needed after Yu Qiushi’s death.

As long as Yan Lang remained in Bianjing, Luo Wei held leverage.

That was why he kept delaying his return to Beiyou. Song Lan knew his intentions and kept him under house arrest only to minimize their contact as much as possible.

Youzhou was still peaceful, and the Yan family’s ancestral property was in the capital. He had no reason to openly expel him.

As long as Yan Lang left Bianjing, even if they were to face each other in battle one day, Youzhou was far from the Emperor, and he would be too late.

In other words, if Luo Wei agreed to this transaction, it would be exchanging her support for Song Yaofeng’s safety, and also her submission to him—Yu Qiushi had just died, and the court was in flux. This was when she needed him most.

Song Lan watched as Luo Wei’s gaze flickered. Finally, she looked up and responded lightly, as if nothing bothered her.

“Good.”