Xie Yingchen unfolded the silk paper, its thin sheet densely filled with writing.
He glanced over it once, and the corners of his lips suddenly lifted into a delighted arc.
Qin Chen was puzzled: “Young Master, what are you smiling about?”
This pigeon letter was nothing more than some news from the Capital. One would arrive every three days—surely that rascal Huai Jingzhi wouldn’t be so careless as to send a bunch of jokes just because he knew Young Master was coming back, right?
Xie Yingchen didn’t answer but instead asked, “Your elder brother Qin Su—didn’t he marry the eldest lady[mfn]Gu Zhizhuo’s aunt, her father’s eldest sister[/mfn] of Duke Zhenguo’s Manor?”
Qin Chen nodded.
He was the concubine-born son of Earl Jing’an, and his legitimate elder brother, Qin Su, had married Lady Gu, the daughter of the Old Duke Zhenguo.
That’s right. In that case, didn’t that mean he and Eldest Young Miss Gu were actually relatives?
“Jingzhi sent word that Qin Su will be on duty at the palace gates tomorrow.”
Because of this? This isn’t even funny… Qin Chen was utterly bewildered.
Xie Yingchen raised his hand and held the silk paper over the candle flame, burning it to black ash.
Not long after, the candlelight in the west courtyard was extinguished.
That night, Xie Yingchen slept exceptionally soundly and only woke up at the Chen hour[mfn]about 7-9 a.m.[/mfn]. His body was covered in a light sheen of sweat, but he hadn’t coughed even once throughout the night.
Even Qin Chen noticed that his complexion had improved noticeably.
“Young Master, your breakfast has been brought.”
“They’re steamed wild vegetable dumplings, and they’re still hot.”
The moment Young Master woke up, breakfast was brought in—neither too early nor too late—as if someone had perfectly calculated the exact time he would wake.
Then that little girl… no, no, that Eldest Young Miss Gu not only knows medicine, she’s actually a real fortune-teller too?! Qin Chen thought he ought to ask her about that “bloody disaster” she’d mentioned—he is only twenty, after all. Surely he can’t die too young like that, right?
After finishing breakfast and drinking his bowl of medicine, Xie Yingchen prepared to return to the capital.
Qin Chen went out first to prepare the horses. Not long after, he came back in and reported, “Young Master, Eldest Young Miss Gu is here.”
Xie Yingchen was taken aback for a brief moment, then stepped out of the door.
Gu Zhizhuo was leaning close to a half-grown white horse, seemingly saying something to it. Her head was slightly tilted to the side, revealing her bright and lovely profile.
The white horse’s body was pure snow-white and full of spirit. Its mane was longer and thicker than that of an ordinary horse, without a single stray hair on its entire body.
Perhaps hearing the sound of movement, she turned her head, her face breaking into a radiant smile.
“Good morning, Young Master Xie.”
The white horse affectionately nuzzled the back of her hand with its damp nose, urging her to pet it.
Gu Zhizhuo kept her gaze fixed on Xie Yingchen as she absentmindedly pulled out a candy and fed it to the horse: “Are you leaving already?”
The white horse finished the candy and gave her a light swat with its tail, clearly not quite satisfied with her half-hearted attention. It circled around to stand directly between her and Xie Yingchen, lifting its head proudly as if to show off its glossy, silky mane.
Qin Chen thought carefully for a moment. If he remembered correctly, this horse was one they had bought while passing through Cangzhou.
A young horse that wasn’t even a year old.
It was originally a wild horse that had been captured after its mother was shot by the horse trader.
When they first saw it, it was all skin and bones because it refused to eat or drink.
The Young Master remarked that it was a fine horse, and it would be a pity to let it die, so they bought it back.
“Eldest Young Miss Gu,” Xie Yingchen stepped forward and stroked the horse’s head, speaking gently, “Can you take us back to the Capital?”
The white horse snorted at him, and Gu Zhizhuo’s hand, which had been stroking its mane, paused there. She gave an embarrassed smile. “You… already know about what happened at the Qianqiu Festival?”
Xie Yingchen nodded.
Last night’s pigeon letter devoted nearly half its length to what had happened at the Qianqiu Festival.
Thinking of what was written in the letter, a faint smile appeared on the corners of his lips.
Sure enough! Gu Zhizhuo knew full well that Xie Yingchen didn’t really need her to take him back to the capital.
It was she who needed him!
The Duke of Zhenguo’s Manor was now in decline, yet they still held command of two hundred thousand elite troops in the Northern Borders—like a child carrying gold or someone walking through the dark of night with a priceless jade.
There were plenty of greedy eyes fixed upon them.
Her experiences from her previous life had taught Gu Zhizhuo that the moment the Gu family showed even the slightest weakness, jackals, wolves, and tigers would swarm in all at once, devouring them so thoroughly that not even a scrap of bone would be left.
The Duke Zhenguo’s Manor’s current shortage of successors was obvious to everyone, but no one truly knew the depth of the Duke of Zhenguo’s Manor’s foundation—even the Emperor suspected that the Gu family had some hidden trump cards tucked away in the Northern Borders.
And the Young Master was telling her that she could put up a show of strength.
Gu Zhizhuo replied frankly, “Alright.”
She understood his intention and was also willing to trust him. This kind of tacit understanding and trust put Xie Yingchen in a rather good mood.
He looked at the white horse that was circling Gu Zhizhuo, acting spoiled and begging for treats, his eyes soft with a gentle smile: “It seems to like you very much. Let it follow you, then.”
Hmm hmm! Gu Zhizhuo’s phoenix eyes sparkled, and she asked expectantly, “Young Master, what’s its name?”
“It hasn’t been named yet.”
“Then… how about calling it Jade Lion?”
“Jade Lion?” Xie Yingchen quietly repeated the name. “Very well.”
Jade Lion. In her previous life, it was also given to her by the Young Master, and the Young Master had named it “Jade Lion.” She recognized it at a glance!
How wonderful. The Young Master gave it to her again, just like before.
Gu Zhizhuo hugged the horse’s neck and giggled foolishly. Xie Yingchen had no idea what she was so happy about, but as he watched her like that, his mood inexplicably brightened as well, and a smile gradually spread to the corners of his lips and eyes.
Qin Chen came hurrying over to report, “Young Master, everything is ready.”
Xie Yingchen’s group consisted of only twelve people, all of whom had spent the night resting at the countryside manor.
They were all on horseback—only Xie Yingchen rode in a carriage.
His health was too poor to endure the strain of riding on horseback.
“Let’s set out.”
After a night of rain, the golden morning sun bathed the earth, bringing with it the warmth of spring.
Once they left the manor, Gu Zhizhuo put her veil back on. The white horse’s four hooves followed the carriage with light, lively steps, occasionally turning its head back to act coyly toward Gu Zhizhuo, begging for a pat.
By the time they reached the Capital, the Chen hour had already passed. The city gates stood wide open, bustling with people coming and going.
They entered the city inconspicuously. Xie Yingchen lifted the curtain of the carriage and looked outside.
It’s been six years.
When he left the capital, he was only fourteen years old.
He was born and raised in the Eastern Palace. His mother was the Crown Princess, and he himself was the legitimate eldest grandson of the late Emperor.
At the age of six, he was conferred the title of Crown Grandson, and from an early age, he studied governance, self-cultivation, and statecraft.
When he was young, the late Emperor would hold him in his arms while receiving court officials, handling state affairs, and reviewing memorials.
And then, in just one night, everything turned upside down.
The day he left the Capital, Da Qi was in a period of national mourning. The entire city was draped in deathly white banners, and the air was filled with wails of sorrow.
Six years had passed since that parting.
Now, the Capital was brimming with the vitality of spring. Its streets were lined with shops and restaurants of all sizes, bustling with diners and lively chatter.
To Xie Yingchen, all of this felt both familiar and unfamiliar.
As they passed through Tianxian Alley, a light drizzle began to fall once again. A horse silently emerged from the alley and merged with their group. The young man on horseback rode alongside Qin Chen and whispered a few words to him. Qin Chen raised his hand slightly, and the group slowed its pace, continuing forward at a leisurely pace.
Just as they were nearing the Meridian Gate, the sound of ceremonial whips[mfn]The “净鞭” (lit. Purifying Whip) was a ritual whip used by palace officials (often court eunuchs or ceremonial officers) to:
• Clear the way during imperial processions.
• Announce the Emperor’s arrival or departure.
• Signal important transitions in the palace or at court[/mfn] echoed from the direction of the Golden Throne Hall—a sign that court was about to be dismissed.
Once, twice, three times.
As the third crack of the whip faded, the carriage passed through the Meridian Gate and came to a slow stop near the palace entrance.
This wasn’t a place where just anyone could wander about. The moment the carriage stopped, the Imperial Guards immediately came forward to question, ready to drive them off.
But a man in armor raised his hand, signaling the Imperial Guards to stay back.
He was nearly thirty, graceful and handsome, with a calm steadiness in his brows that came from years of experience and refinement.
He wasn’t a stranger—it was Qin Su, the eldest son-in-law of the Gu family.
Gu Zhizhuo pulled on the reins and gave Qin Su a slight bow from afar. Noticing that Qin Chen was also cupping his hands in salute in the same direction, she asked in a low voice, “Do you know him?”
Qin Chen pointed to himself and replied, “Well, my surname is Qin.”
She knew, ah! Young Master introduced him yesterday.
She suddenly recalled and said in surprise, “You’re from Earl Jing’an Manor?”
Qin Chen leaned in and whispered back, “A concubine’s son.”
Got it.
No wonder Qin Su looked so hesitant.
“He must have guessed that Young Master is in the carriage, right?”
“I think so…” Before he could finish, Qin Chen nudged her with his elbow and gestured with his chin. “Look over there.”
Gu Zhizhuo turned her head, only to meet Xie Jing’s gloomy, sinister gaze.
Xie Jing was wearing a veiled hat, standing beside a completely ordinary carriage with one foot already on the step. Unlike his usual grand entourage, he now had only Xiao Yunzi with him, carefully supporting him.
Xie Jing’s gaze was dark and heavy. He had been kneeling before the Shuntian Gate all through the night until dawn. Even though heavy rain and thunder had rolled in, his Father Emperor, never summoned him to rise. Court officials came and went, and their probing, curious glances left him so ashamed he couldn’t even lift his head.
The cold rain washed over him again and again. As he recalled everything that had happened, what was there left he didn’t understand?
It was true he had ordered Imperial Physician Liu to poison Gu Zhizhuo. But it was just to ruin her face—not to kill her. What was she dissatisfied about?
But Gu Zhizhuo had clearly seen through it long ago, yet she still relentlessly schemed against him—so ruthless, so vicious.
Xie Jing clenched his teeth, eyes burning with hatred.
One by one, the court officials began to emerge from the Golden Throne Hall.
Gu Zhizhuo sat atop her horse, completely ignoring his murderous glare as if he wanted to eat someone. Without sparing him a shred of dignity, she laughed aloud and called out, “Your Highness, are you on your way to the Imperial Ancestral Temple to reflect on your mistakes?”
“Better not make another mistake, or you might not be able to come back.”
You! Xie Jing trembled all over, veins bulging on the back of his tightly clenched fist. He wanted nothing more than to rush over and strangle her.
“Younger Cousin Jing.”
That voice was neither hurried nor slow and rang clear like jade. Xie Jing gave a sudden shiver, and all color drained from his face.
That form of address was so familiar.
But no one had called him that in many years.
Ever since his Father Emperor ascended the throne, everyone had addressed him with utmost respect as “Your Highness.”
And there was only ever one person who had called him that!
Xie Jing froze in place.
He turned toward the voice in disbelief.
The carriage curtain was lifted, and Xie Yingchen, draped in an azure-blue cloak, stepped onto the footstool and alighted from the carriage.
He stood tall and elegant, with gentle, jade-like features and a smile at the corner of his lips. This kind of natural grace effortlessly drew all attention toward him—so effortlessly that people would willingly follow at his side.
He spoke, his voice as clear and smooth as jade: “I trust you’ve been well, Younger Cousin Jing.”
It’s him!
Xie Jing couldn’t hide his shock—it was really him; he had returned!
Xie Yingchen!
He was dumbfounded, as if he had swallowed a whole egg, unable to utter a single word.
He could only watch as Xie Yingchen walked unhurriedly toward the palace gates, the puddles beneath his steps rippling gently—just like the turmoil in his own heart.
Xie Yingchen stood before the palace gates, his posture straight and poised.
“Xie Yingchen, returning to the country by Imperial Decree.” He said in a loud, clear voice, “I request an audience with His Majesty.”
