Chapter 84

Proofreader: Mim

After the fall of Prince Jing, his faction was relentlessly attacked and impeached by members of Prince Feng’s camp, causing one ally after another to be ousted.

Although Qian Yiwang still retained his position, the once-bustling Qian residence had become eerily desolate. Officials who had previously visited frequently now went out of their way to avoid the place, fearing any association with him.

Yet, in this bleak period, a single invitation arrived at the Qian household.

A servant boy rushed excitedly into Qian Yiwang’s study, holding the rare invitation aloft.
“Master! You’ve received a letter!”

Qian Yiwang froze for a moment. Even he hadn’t expected that someone would dare to send him an invitation at a time like this.

When he took the letter and saw the sender’s signature, his expression turned subtle and complicated.

“…Leave me for now,” he said.

After the servant boy left, Qian Yiwang rose from his desk and approached a wall that housed a built-in Eight Treasures Cabinet (a type of decorative storage cabinet featuring intricate ornaments). Gripping the edge of the cabinet, he gently twisted it to the right.

The objects on the cabinet—pen holders, an inkstone, a jade figurine of a lying dog—rotated along with it. When the cabinet reached its limit, a hidden Buddhist shrine revealed itself.

Lighting a stick of incense, Qian Yiwang knelt reverently before a redwood tablet enshrined within.

After bowing three times, he inserted the incense into the burner and gazed at the swirling white smoke that rose before the tablet.

“Your Highness…”

The curling smoke blurred his vision. As he looked at the memorial tablet, it was as though he was gazing at the entirety of his life, a life spent enduring humiliation and burdens for the sake of a greater cause.

It was finally over.

Qian Yiwang closed his eyes. In that final moment, a faint glimmer of tears sparkled at the corners of his eyes.

An hour later, he left the residence in a carriage, heading discreetly toward the rear entrance of Prince Langya’s manor. A graceful maid led him into the vast, empty estate.

The Langya manor was steeped in a somber and desolate atmosphere, reminiscent of the final days of the late Crown Prince.

The maid guided him to a waterside pavilion in the garden before silently retreating.

As Qian Yiwang stepped into the pavilion, he smiled calmly.
“Prince Langya—” His gaze shifted briefly to Li Zhi, revealing a flicker of surprise. “Ah, so Director Li is here as well.”

Li Zhi rose and gave him a formal bow.

Xie Lanxu sat cross-legged on a cushion, his expression composed, a faint smile lingering at the corners of his lips.

“Please, Lord Qian, take a seat.”

Qian Yiwang chuckled and sat down across from Xie Lanxu. “The Prince invites me here so late at night. Might I ask what the purpose is? Or is this one of Prince Feng’s new tricks for tormenting a defeated opponent?”

“There is no Prince Feng,” Xie Lanxu said. “No one else is involved.”

“If this is your own idea, then I must worry for your sake,” Qian Yiwang said with a laugh. “Should Prince Feng find out that you’re meeting with me in secret, I doubt he’ll refrain from speculating.”

“There’s no need for such provocations, Lord Qian,” Xie Lanxu replied evenly. “Given the nature of our relationship, we can speak frankly. I’ll answer your questions with complete honesty.”

“Our relationship?”

Xie Lanxu glanced at Li Zhi, who retrieved the secret letter delivered by the street urchin to the Li residence.

Qian Yiwang’s gaze fell on the letter, but he said nothing.

Li Zhi placed the letter upright on the table and slowly slid it toward Qian Yiwang. Before it even reached him, he said, “No need.”

Raising his eyes, Qian Yiwang met both Xie Lanxu’s and Li Zhi’s gazes.

“How did you find out?”

“The Langfan Pavilion,” Li Zhi replied.

Qian Yiwang’s reaction was neither shock nor indifference. To Li Zhi, it seemed more like a man surrendering himself to the waves of fate, allowing them to carry him wherever they pleased.

“What is it you want to know?” Qian Yiwang asked.

Xie Lanxu’s question was simple: “Why did you help me?”

Qian Yiwang chuckled and countered with his own question: “What does the Prince think the reason is?”

Xie Lanxu remained silent for a long moment before finally saying, “Because of my father. And yet, I still don’t understand why.”

The waterside pavilion fell silent, save for the faint ripples spreading across the surface of the surrounding pond.

A single koi fish surfaced briefly, its mouth opening and closing a few times before it flicked its tail and disappeared beneath the waves.

Qian Yiwang’s gaze landed on a neatly arranged chessboard nearby. “Your Highness, do you play chess?”

“I do,” Xie Lanxu said with unabashed confidence.

“If you’re not in a hurry, shall we have a game?”

The chessboard and pieces were already in place. Li Zhi arranged the baskets for the two players, and the match officially began.

Xie Lanxu, who typically took the black pieces in his games against Li Zhi, found himself bested this time—Qian Yiwang took the black stones first.

A black stone fell. Then a white one.

Li Zhi sat beside Xie Lanxu, quietly observing the unfolding game.

“Your Highness, do you know why I joined Prince Jing?” Qian Yiwang asked, breaking the silence.

“To infiltrate the enemy’s ranks,” Xie Lanxu replied.

A bitter smile appeared on Qian Yiwang’s face. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened, resembling insurmountable ridges carved by years of suffering.

“That was the path the Crown Prince left open for me…”

His voice trembled as he lowered his gaze.

“One year before the Crown Prince was executed, he already knew his time was short.”

Li Zhi suppressed her shock, furrowing her brow slightly as she listened intently to Qian Yiwang’s words.

“At that time, the emperor’s hostility and animosity toward the Crown Prince had become impossible to ignore. His confidants, including myself, urged him to plan an escape route for himself.”

By “escape route,” they meant preparing for the worst—raising an army and planning an uprising.

“…The Crown Prince refused us,” Qian Yiwang said, his expression pained as if he were reliving those dark and hopeless days. “He said the imperial treasury was empty, the people were impoverished, and the empire was in ruins, in desperate need of rebuilding. If Yan Dynasty were to descend into war, it would be the common people who would suffer most.”

Their relationship went far beyond that of ruler and subject.

They had been companions in study, close friends, and confidants.

“Long ago, when the current emperor disregarded all opposition and changed the dynasty, the Crown Prince, after failing to dissuade his father, swore a solemn oath: that for the rest of his life, he would live for the world, for the people, and for all things under heaven—never for himself.”

Li Zhi glanced at Xie Lanxu.

She had often found it curious that someone as vengeful as Xie Lanxu harbored no hatred toward the man who had branded him with talismans to ward off evil spirits and treated him as if he were a monster.

Whenever the deposed Crown Prince was mentioned, Xie Lanxu’s expression was always calm, his tone detached, as though recounting the story of a stranger.

Even now, as he listened to Qian Yiwang speak of the Crown Prince with utmost reverence, Xie Lanxu showed no resistance. He listened attentively, his demeanor suggesting complete agreement with everything being said.

The deposed Crown Prince may not have been a good father, but there was no doubt that he embodied the dream of a benevolent ruler.

If he had been the one sitting on the throne today, everything might have been different.

“The Crown Prince, having resolved to face death, dismissed his aides, instructing everyone to leave. But me… The Crown Prince said I was too closely tied to him. He feared that after his death, the emperor would come after me for retribution. So he devised a plan, creating the illusion of a severed relationship between us and sending me to Prince Jing’s side.”

“At that time, Prince Jing had yet to earn his reputation as a virtuous prince. He was merely one of the many minor princes with some small renown. But the Crown Prince foresaw it all. He told me that after his death, the emperor would likely elevate two princes—one to balance power, and the other to inherit the throne. Among them, the one used for balance would most likely be the clever and cunning third brother.”

“And everything unfolded just as the Crown Prince predicted,” Qian Yiwang said.

“After the Crown Prince’s death, the emperor relied heavily on Prince Jing and also vigorously supported Prince Feng. Those who had once stood by the Crown Prince were all purged—except for me, because I had taken refuge under Prince Jing’s banner and escaped the fallout.”

“Though I lived on in disgrace, in my heart, the only person I ever truly followed was the Crown Prince.”

“You are the Crown Prince’s only surviving bloodline. I could not stand idly by,” Qian Yiwang said. “When you were being exiled to Mingyue Tower, I bribed mountain bandits to secretly take you to safety. However, Prince Jing’s faction intervened and sent troops to wipe out the bandits. Fortunately, you managed to escape on your own.”

Xie Lanxu and Li Zhi exchanged a glance, both recalling the kiss beneath the withered lotus pond.

That had been the beginning for them.

At least, for Xie Lanxu, it had been the beginning of everything.

“Later, the battle at Mingyue Tower took place,” Qian Yiwang continued, his expression growing animated. “From that moment on, my life regained its purpose. The Crown Prince was gone, but his son—his son was a prodigy! The unfinished work of the Crown Prince may yet be completed by his heir!”

“I remained at Prince Jing’s side, eventually becoming his most trusted advisor. Prince Jing placed great faith in me. When you returned to the capital, I knew the bloodline of the previous dynasty would inevitably be criticized, and the Cui dynasty’s treasure would become an unavoidable point of contention. Since that was the case, I provoked Prince Jing to exploit this matter, intending to use it as a final conclusion to the controversy.”

“Months ago, Prince Jing suddenly acquired witnesses for a treason case. I immediately suspected it was a trap laid by the emperor. The emperor knew the Crown Prince’s influence far surpassed his own and harbored deep-seated fear and suspicion because of it. The same suspicion naturally extended to you, whom he knew even less about.”

“This was just one of many tests the emperor set for you, to see if you bore resentment or defiance over the Crown Prince’s death.”

“You navigated every one of those traps flawlessly,” Qian Yiwang said, his face lighting with genuine relief. “Not only that, but you even uncovered my role. If the Crown Prince’s spirit is aware, he would undoubtedly feel proud.”

“I see,” Xie Lanxu said. “All my doubts have been resolved.”

The chess game had reached its final stages. Only a few white stones remained on the board.

Qian Yiwang looked at the black and white pieces on the chessboard and sighed deeply, his expression complicated.

“…Your Highness, your skill in chess has exceeded all my expectations.”

“You flatter me, Lord Qian,” Xie Lanxu replied modestly, though his tone was completely at ease.

“Your Highness, I have a request.”

“Speak.”

“I have now fulfilled my duty to the Crown Prince. I ask only this: no matter how the emperor chooses to deal with me, Your Highness, please do not involve yourself. Remain uninvolved, no matter what.”

Xie Lanxu placed another white stone on the board, as though he hadn’t heard Qian Yiwang’s plea.

“Your Highness?”

“I’ve already answered you,” Xie Lanxu said.

Qian Yiwang froze. “When did you answer me?”

“This game,” Xie Lanxu replied.

The clear moonlight shone on the stone chessboard, casting a cold and luminous glow.

Xie Lanxu smiled faintly and said, “Finding life in desperate circumstances—that is my answer.”