Chapter 59

 

T/NOTE:- Hello dear readers, I am extremely sorry about no updates till now. Tbh I heard a negative news about an actor that I admired, as someone who followed good morals and always did good things I never imagined that the person I admired would do something like that. I was hurt thinking about it and as a overthinker i thought a lot about it which affected my mental health. So I thought to take a break from all socials. I just want to suggest that if something affects your mental health then it is important to take a break from it & not let it affect your health or daily life as they dont deserve our affection or dedication.❤️

Now I am all good and I will continue with the same schedule. Thank you so much for your comments.❤️

 

The Ziwei Palace was packed with ministers, yet an uneasy silence prevailed.

Intricate paintings adorned the beams of the hall, with cloud-dwelling dragons flying proudly and auspicious clouds wafting serenely. The hall’s golden bricks shimmered with dazzling light.

Seated on the dragon throne, the emperor, now in his sixties, wore a yellow imperial robe. His jet-black hair shone under his ceremonial crown, and it was said that even during occasional private visits in disguise, young maidens who encountered him would blush at the sight of his noble demeanor.

A report from Mingyue Tower lay open on the table—a top-priority dispatch delivered across three thousand miles. The emperor had read the report presented by the Ministry of War and then closed his eyes, remaining silent for a long while.

The incense burner emitted calming wisps of fragrance, but the ministers present were far from at ease. Their hearts pounded like war drums, and cold sweat trickled down their foreheads.

“Zhizhen,” the emperor finally spoke, his voice barely audible yet as shocking as a thunderclap in the cold, somber hall. “How long has it been since my eldest son passed?”

“Your Majesty,” Zhang Zhizhen, the Chancellor and foremost among the ministers, took a step forward and bowed deeply. “It has been over two years since the Crown Prince departed.”

“Two years…” The emperor’s eyes remained closed, his voice heavy with sorrow. “I have never once dreamed of him. Perhaps… perhaps he still blames me.”

Zhang Zhizhen kept his head bowed, his expression unreadable. “When a prince violates the law, he must be punished as an ordinary citizen. Your Majesty merely did what a wise and just ruler should.”

“Even so… two years.” The emperor finally opened his eyes, his gaze falling once again on the report on the table. “His son has grown up now.”

Zhang Zhizhen recognized that the emperor was merely speaking his thoughts aloud, so he remained silent and kept his bow until the emperor directed his attention back to him.

“With an army hastily cobbled together from Mansion soldiers and ordinary infantry, just fifteen hundred men, Xie Lanxu managed to rout an enemy force of two hundred thousand.” The emperor’s tone was measured as he spoke, “Zhizhen, what do you make of this?”

Even without raising his head, Zhang Zhizhen could imagine the inscrutable expression on the emperor’s face. It was a face that revealed neither joy nor anger, leaving one perpetually guessing.

Any matter concerning the former Crown Prince was a minefield—each word had to be chosen with utmost care. It was an unspoken rule within the palace that the emperor disliked hearing either criticism or praise of the deposed Crown Prince.

Perhaps because of the nature of his rise to power, this emperor had made “the emperor’s mind is unfathomable” a living mantra.

Weighing his words carefully, Zhang Zhizhen avoided direct commentary. “Your Majesty, I am not well-informed of the details and dare not speculate recklessly.”

“What’s there to hesitate about?” The emperor smiled faintly. “Isn’t it all written clearly in the report? Moqi Chuanmin had been plotting for years, secretly assembling an army of three hundred thousand. His plan was to use Lu Han’s son death to provoke Lu Han, giving him a pretext for rebellion. Unexpectedly, Lu Han didn’t take the bait. Frustrated, Moqi Chuanmin launched a sudden attack, surrounding Mingyue Tower and catching the city off guard.”

Zhang Zhizhen nodded, appearing deeply attentive.

“So, tell me honestly—what’s your opinion on this?” the emperor pressed.

Realizing he couldn’t dodge the question, Zhang Zhizhen had no choice but to respond cautiously,
“His Highness demonstrated extraordinary strategy and daring that ordinary men could not match. However, I have heard that this was largely due to Commander Lu Han falling ill. Commander Lu, with his extensive military experience and care for the people, commands great respect among the troops. I believe that had General Lu not fallen ill, the siege of Mingyue Tower could still have been resolved, and Moqi Chuanmin would not have escaped his fate.”

The emperor shook his head slightly, disagreeing. “I know Lu Han’s temperament well. He is skilled at defending but lacks the initiative to turn the tables. This time, Xie Lanxu executed Moqi Chuanmin in public, resolving the crisis at the border and allowing me to vent my anger. Truly, his contributions are immense.”

With the emperor’s tone clarified, Zhang Zhizhen felt relieved. Bowing with a smile, he said,
“In that case, His Highness has indeed achieved great merit. May I ask how Your Majesty intends to reward him?”

After Zhang Zhizhen’s words, a heavy silence fell over the court.

When the Crown Prince was deposed, some mourned for him, but there were also those who seized the opportunity to denounce him. The latter group, naturally, had no desire to see the Crown Prince’s descendants rise again.

However, with the emperor in high spirits, no one dared to provoke his ire unnecessarily.

“For now, we’ll delay the reward,” the emperor said. “According to the report, Lu Han has already appointed him as the Dragon-Tiger General, commanding ten thousand elite troops from Mingyue Tower to suppress the rebellion in Yizhou. Once he returns triumphant, we’ll discuss rewards then.”

“Your Majesty is wise,” Zhang Zhizhen replied.

The ministers’ expressions varied, but their collective chant of “Your Majesty is wise” was remarkably unified.

——

The campaign to suppress the rebellion in Yizhou proceeded as smoothly as splitting bamboo.

Under Xie Lanxu’s command, the army operated with strict discipline and remarkable cunning. In less than fifteen days, they subdued the major cities of Yizhou, bringing the possessed territory back under Yan Dynasty control.

When Xie Lanxu returned to Mingyue Tower, the city turned out in droves to welcome him. Despite the surging crowd at the gates, an uncanny silence pervaded.

The quiet persisted until the gates slowly opened, and the commander appeared at the head of ten thousand bloodied cavalry.

Then came the cheers and congratulations, mingled with white and purple azaleas spontaneously thrown by the citizens. The flowers filled the sky, carried on the evening breeze and dyed in the hues of the setting sun.

Li Zhi’s facial wound had healed, leaving only a faint discoloration that would fade completely with time.

Standing amidst the crowd, her gaze locked onto the figure at the forefront.

Xie Lanxu, clad in black armor and astride a fiery steed, rode at the head of the troops. His composed, stoic demeanor reminded one of the snow-covered peaks of Xian Naiyue Mountain—pure, majestic, and exuding an icy authority.

Seeing him return safe and sound, Li Zhi breathed a quiet sigh of relief and prepared to leave.

But before she could, Xie Lanxu had already spotted her in the crowd. With a nudge of his horse’s flank, he broke away from the procession and rode straight toward her.

“Your Highness, I—ah!”

Li Zhi had just opened her mouth to speak when Xie Lanxu leaned down, effortlessly scooping her onto the horse.

Not only was Li Zhi taken by surprise, but the surrounding onlookers—both the citizens and officials—erupted into a commotion at Xie Lanxu’s unexpected action.

Under the watchful gazes of so many people, Li Zhi couldn’t help but feel her face flush with heat.

“Your Highness, please put me down!”

Xie Lanxu’s hands remained firmly around her waist while also gripping the reins. His chin rested lightly on her shoulder, and his warm breath tickled her ear.

“Why?” he asked in response.

“Are you not afraid of what people will say?”

“And what of it?”

Li Zhi heard a soft, mocking laugh by her ear.

Xie Lanxu squeezed the horse’s sides, and the sweat-blood steed charged forward amidst the startled gasps of the onlookers.

A few scattered laughs erupted from the marching troops behind them—it was the Moqi brothers teasingly mocking their youngest sibling for having his romantic dreams thoroughly shattered.

In the procession, the only woman, Moqi Danliao, had initially stood out like a proud red spider lily blooming in the wilderness. Yet now, watching Xie Lanxu and Li Zhi ride off together, her bright red petals seemed frostbitten.

She gripped her reins tightly, and the cheers of the crowd, which had previously stirred her heart, now felt hollow.

Moqi Danliao couldn’t help but recall the last time Xie Lanxu and Li Zhi had shared a horse.

Back then, with only fifteen hundred men, they had miraculously defeated Moqi Chuanmin’s two hundred thousand troops. When Moqi Danliao saw Xie Lanxu help Li Zhi onto his horse, she had felt both dissatisfaction and genuine goodwill. With these mixed feelings, she had volunteered, “Your Highness, it may not be proper for you to share a horse with a young lady. Perhaps she could ride with me instead?”

At the time, Xie Lanxu hadn’t even glanced at her. But she would never forget his response.

“No need. I want to ride with her.”

This answer had clearly not been premeditated. Even as he said it, Xie Lanxu had shown a momentary expression of surprise, as though pondering the meaning behind his own words.

When Moqi Danliao was still a child, she had often heard stories about the legendary Crown Prince Xie Songzhao.

Xie Songzhao, known as a prodigy since childhood, had never lost his brilliance as he grew older. While most child prodigies faded into obscurity, Xie Songzhao’s radiance only grew brighter. If ordinary people were molded by Nüwa’s casual strokes of clay, Xie Songzhao seemed like a figure delicately sculpted by her divine lips.

Moqi Danliao admired this godlike man even more than she admired her own father. But before she ever had the chance to meet this idol of hers, Xie Songzhao was executed for treason. His blood stained the ground, and he was buried hastily in a thin, meager coffin.

Then, the only son Xie Songzhao left behind arrived in Mingyue Tower.

“Don’t feel bad, little sister,” teased Moqi Li, her second eldest brother, as he rode up beside her. “Didn’t you notice that His Highness didn’t even spare you a glance just now? If you cry, only your brothers will be around to wipe your tears—”

Moqi Danliao shot him a frosty glare and rode ahead, leaving her brothers, the crowd, and the victorious ten thousand troops behind her.

——

Leaving behind the cheering citizens and triumphant army, Xie Lanxu and Li Zhi arrived at the gates of the Duhu Mansion ahead of everyone else.

The sleepy gatekeeper rubbed his eyes in disbelief, glancing repeatedly at Xie Lanxu and then the empty road behind him. “Your Highness, where are the others?”

“I came ahead,” Xie Lanxu replied. “Inform the Commander that I’ll be resting for the evening. Any matters can wait until tomorrow.”

Before the gatekeeper could fully process this, Xie Lanxu and Li Zhi had already vanished from view.

Rather than returning to Bamboo Courtyard for rest, Xie Lanxu led Li Zhi down an unfamiliar path. It wasn’t until they reached another city gate that Li Zhi finally realized what was happening.

“Your Highness, are you leaving the city again?”

“Call me Ah-Li,” Xie Lanxu corrected her.

“…Ah-Li, you’ve just returned. Where are you going now?”

Xie Lanxu didn’t answer right away. Instead, he showed his now well-known face to the gate guards, who allowed him to leave the city with ease.

“To a certain place,” he said succinctly.

Suppressing her growing curiosity, Li Zhi followed him across a grassland and onto a winding mountain path.

The fiery glow of dusk gradually faded, giving way to encroaching darkness. In the mountains, the night descended swiftly.

When Xie Lanxu finally stopped the horse, moonlight pierced through the canopy of leaves, bathing the forest in a serene, silvery glow. After dismounting, Xie Lanxu reached up to help Li Zhi down, carrying her as if it were second nature.

His movements were growing more fluid, more practiced.

Not far away, Li Zhi noticed steam rising from behind a dense thicket of shrubs.

Xie Lanxu stepped carefully over loose stones and through the underbrush before extending his hand to her. When she took it, he led her to a misty, steaming natural hot spring.

“How do you know about all these hidden places?” Li Zhi asked, remembering the agate lake blooming with white waterweed—and the corpse under the boat. She quickly pushed that grim thought from her mind.

“I heard about it from someone,” Xie Lanxu replied.

Before Li Zhi could respond, she saw him deftly unbuckling his armor.

Great, she thought. The haunting image of the corpse was now completely replaced by memories of the night by the stream. Embarrassed, she instinctively averted her gaze, her fingertips brushing against the heated skin of her reddening earlobes.

Before long, she heard the sound of water. When she turned to look, Xie Lanxu was already half-submerged in the hot spring, the faint outline of the blue tattoos on his body rising and falling with the rippling steam. The sight calmed her racing thoughts.

Reclining against a dark, moss-covered boulder, Xie Lanxu’s expression was calm as he looked over at her. “Aren’t you coming in?”

Li Zhi slowly approached, sitting beside the spring. She removed her socks and shoes, dipping her feet into the warm water.

Xie Lanxu reached out, his fingers tracing the water’s surface until they gently touched her submerged foot. In a soft voice, he said, “Come down.”

Li Zhi’s heart pounded loudly in her chest.

The night was eerily silent, as though holding its breath.

“Your Highness…” she whispered. “I can’t.”