“Do you really want to die?” I coldly laughed. “Even if Yunqiao protects you, it would be easy for An Jin and me to kill you. If you’re dead, that would be a complete defeat.”
He dropped his smile and sighed. “How could I not want to live? Unfortunately, there is no antidote for the Absolute Child Wine. If you don’t believe me, feel free to take my life.”
This event should have originally been discussed between me and An Jin, but since our cold war began, he has tried to approach me repeatedly, only to be blocked by my people. After several attempts, he gradually stopped making moves. When we occasionally met, he would just hide to the side, looking at me resentfully.
After being estranged for so long, I couldn’t bring myself to find him to discuss matters, resulting in an awkward, unresolved standoff.
Three months passed, and whenever I thought about the deadline, I felt anxious. I knew I needed to notify An Jin, but I didn’t know how to approach him.
After more than a month, I couldn’t bear it any longer. One dark, windy night, I secretly slipped to his room, where the light was still on. I hesitated to knock, then heard a woman’s voice inside.
I was furious. Just a month or two after separating, he couldn’t resist loneliness and was cheating? This was a family scandal that shouldn’t be exposed, so I needed a trustworthy and discreet helper to catch him in the act—Yuanxiao.
Yuanxiao seemed willing to help. I pulled it to An Jin’s window, but it hesitated, scratched the ground, then leaped—only to get stuck in the window, letting out two miserable howls.
I covered my face, feeling embarrassed. How could I forget it had gained quite a bit of weight recently?
The door burst open, and An Jin stood in the doorway, blocking the light. His expression was unclear—neither happy nor sad.
“A Yao…” he called out, his tone strange, as if his voice had traveled through countless twists and turns. “Is it really you?”
I held my head high, coughed coldly, and ignored Yuanxiao’s cries for help, moving slightly towards the doorway. “I saw Yuanxiao running in this direction, so I came to check.”
I tried to peek inside through the gap between his body and the door, but he shifted, blocking my view. “A Yao, you’ve come to find me?”
He smiled brightly, then seemed to realize it was too much and tried to suppress it, making his expression appear stiff.
I pointed towards the window. “I’m here to find Yuanxiao.”
“Okay, come in and we’ll talk,” he said, stepping aside.
I rushed in without thinking, full of righteous indignation.
There was a woman by the window, staring blankly at Yuanxiao’s half-stuck body. “Que’er?” I said in surprise. “How is it you?”
She came to her senses. “Madam? No wonder Yuanxiao suddenly jumped at the window—you were behind this?”
“Of course not!” I quickly distanced myself. “It was entirely its own idea.”
Yuanxiao whimpered pitifully at me. I moved forward, helping Que’er pull it down from the window.
Yuanxiao lay on the ground, looking defeated.
“How are you… here?” I glanced at An Jin nearby, amused, and whispered to Que’er.
Que’er blinked. “You and my lord are in a cold war and sleeping separately. He was worried you weren’t sleeping or eating well, so he asked me to inquire.”
My heart warmed slightly, but I maintained my stern expression, refusing to look back at him.
Que’er looked between us. “Should I… take Yuanxiao and leave?”
After they left, only the two of us remained. I glanced at him, catching his tender gaze. When I looked back, he stepped forward but stopped when I glared, pointing at a stool. “…sit and talk,” he stammered.
I shook my head, saying seriously, “Actually, I have something to discuss with you.”
I explained the three-month deadline Hongdi had given me to deal with him. He showed no reaction, lowering his eyes and calmly responding, “I understand. You came to find me for this?”
“Of course. What are you planning to do?”
He smiled. “Do nothing.”
“How can that be?” I grew anxious. “Even if I don’t act, Hongdi will definitely make a move! If you don’t prepare, you’ll surely be—”
“It’s fine,” he interrupted. “Rather than letting Hongdi act, let you do it. I won’t make any arrangements. You can do whatever you want.”
“You—” I understood, saying angrily, “Don’t try to use this self-destructive method to make me forgive you. If you lose all your power and end up trapped in the inner palace, do you understand?”
“I’m willing,” he said, almost excited. “As long as you don’t ignore me anymore, I’ll accept anything.”
I was speechless, glaring at him. The more I glared, the more encouraged he became, even moving closer. “A Yao, I’m willing.”
“I— I’m not talking to you anymore.” His subtle fragrance of pagoda tree flowers drifted into my nose, flustering me. I stood up and retreated several steps. “I’ve said what needed to be said. Do what you want.” With that, I fled.
I had delivered the message, but An Jin only seemed slightly happier, appearing more frequently but making no other moves. He seemed quite leisurely, while I was anxious. Could he really be planning to destroy his own capabilities? If he intended to do nothing, I would have to act before the three-month deadline, or when Hongdi made his move, nothing would be left.
Just as I was about to act, an earthquake suddenly broke out in the eastern part of the Southern Rui Kingdom, affecting Rao City, the fief of Yun Qiao. The earthquake caused significant losses and casualties.
After local officials reported the disaster situation and number of victims to the Ministry of Households, the Emperor immediately decided to dispatch imperial envoys with relief supplies and medical teams to investigate and provide aid.
I volunteered to go. As a member of the Southern Rui royal family and heir apparent, I felt compelled to help the people during this time of panic. Additionally, I was worried about Yun Qiao, who had gone to Rao City and had not sent any news since the earthquake.
Historically, earthquakes have been used as a pretext to harm royal reputation, so I believed my presence could quell any unfavorable rumors.
When An Jin learned of my decision, he insisted on accompanying me. I initially refused and ordered people to watch him closely. However, he managed to blend in with the accompanying physicians and, when discovered, declared, “I’m also a physician. Don’t you remember I cured your cold?” Reluctantly, I allowed him to join.
The disaster-affected area included five cities and three states in eastern Southern Rui. An Jin and I inspected local disaster assessments, comforted victims, distributed supplies, and dealt with corrupt state officials.
After covering four cities and three states, we finally reached Rao City, the most severely affected location.
Most dwellings had collapsed, and the ground was covered with horrific cracks. Livestock and human bodies were mixed together, creating a strange odor. Homeless civilians huddled together, shivering by the roadside, too overwhelmed to tend to their injuries.
An Jin and I divided tasks: he handled corpses and conducted rescues while I gathered disaster victims and coordinated treatment, distributing cotton clothing and food.
A city official, learning that imperial envoys had arrived, hurried to welcome us. I ordered my soldiers to detain him due to his inaction. He pleaded for mercy: “The Prince of Ning is not here, and I did not dare to make decisions independently. Please, Your Highness, show mercy!”
“Where is the Prince of Ning?”
“A few days ago, he was helping with relief efforts. Then someone reported that a young master had escaped, and the Prince hurriedly left and never returned.”
“A young master escaped?” I thought. Could it be about Xia Zhiyuan? Only he could make Yun Qiao so anxious. “He didn’t return, and you didn’t send anyone to look?”
