My lord, the assassination case at the Wanshou Banquet back then was investigated by the Flying Dragon Guard. I know Chunyang is your man, and I know the White Dew Powder came from the Southwest. Jing Yuan never hid your friendship from me.
“Yan Xiaohan tried to speak calmly, “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have come directly here. You couldn’t have harmed him; there must be a spy planted by the Emperor near him.”
“Was it the dog Emperor’s order?” Duan Guihong had only vaguely suspected before, but now confirmed by Yan Xiaohan, his anger suddenly surged: “Fine! I harmed him, and now his son comes to harm him. In his previous life, Fu Shen destroyed his grandfather’s entire clan. Is he destined to be tormented like this in this life?!”
Brilliant military achievements, a body full of scars, yet still less valued than a court favorite’s few words before the Emperor. Fu Shen had fought wars for the Great Zhou his entire life, only to end up like this.
After roaring, Duan Guihong’s anger dissipated, replaced by boundless coldness and misery. He stood motionless for a moment, like an old lion finally realizing his age, and when he spoke again, his voice was low: “Go back, no need to meet. Just consider him dead.”
“From now on… don’t drag him down with this empire anymore.”
The pain that consumed Yan Xiaohan’s heart hadn’t subsided. He wasn’t entirely clear-headed, his entire spirit sustained by this pain. He was already being as polite and tactful as possible to Duan Guihong.”
But when his last sentence came out, he could no longer hold back.
“Does my lord have no idea who has truly dragged him down?”
“What right do you have to feel aggrieved for him?” He coldly stared at Duan Guihong, his words sharper than a knife: “Why did he go to the Southwest front? Why did the Emperor want to kill him? Isn’t it all because of you, Lord of Xiping?”
