The Emperor, in high spirits, drank several cups of fine wine in succession. He was in a jovial mood, his face flushed with health, showing absolutely no trace of the sickliness others had spoken of.
The wine was not harsh upon entry; its flavor was rich, mellow, and lingering. Jiang Moran immediately discerned that this was a century-old vintage.
What was more, it had just been brought out from the cellar.
“I should swipe two jars when I leave...” Jiang Moran thought to himself.
Just as he was hatching this plan, the Emperor suddenly set down his wine cup. His expression was neither joyful nor his usual majestic solemnity, but rather a sense of vacancy that even he himself had not noticed.
“As a rogue of the jianghu, do you think what I did was right?”
The moment those words were spoken, everyone at the table paused slightly. Only Jiang Moran continued to drink with great interest, though a touch of pity had entered the gaze he directed toward the Emperor.
Yes, that look was indeed one of pity.
“If I were a wealthy merchant, I would never hand over an immense fortune to an incompetent son, because the various shops under my name support a great many people,” Jiang Moran said.
Jiang Moran continued, “And if I were an Emperor, I would definitely not casually yield the throne, because beneath me are all the common people of the world.”
After speaking, Jiang Moran buried his head back into his food. However, the Emperor did not pick up his chopsticks for a long time, the vacancy in his eyes dissipating slightly.
Fengqingzi sighed in his heart. Being born into the imperial family meant that, more often than not, one was destined to have no choice in their own life.
What parents in the world do not love their children? Yet there was only one throne to sit upon. For the other two princes, the lucky outcome would be getting a fief thousands of li away; if things turned ruthless, they might not even keep their lives in the end.
The old Emperor was trading a brief period of turmoil for long-term peace. The one who ultimately ascended was bound to be the one with the most formidable methods and the deepest political scheming.
This action violated ancestral teachings, but for the sake of the world, it was an act of great righteousness!
...
While fine wine and delicious food were still being enjoyed at the lakeside pavilion, the Third Prince was suffering miserably in the Imperial Prison.
The damp straw emitted a musty odor, making his skin itch uncontrollably, and the oppressive environment nearly drove him mad.
The Third Prince clutched the iron bars tightly, a hideously distorted expression plastered across his face.
He was the man destined to sit on the imperial throne! How dare they lock him up!
Once he got out, he would definitely tear those two Imperial Guards who had dragged him in into a thousand pieces!
The sudden fall from grace was too much to bear. He did not even notice the youth who had appeared before the iron bars until the dim firelight within the cell flickered, making him realize someone had arrived.
“It's you! You've come to save me!” Seeing the youth, the Third Prince stiffened, followed immediately by irrepressible ecstasy.
As long as he escaped this place, he could still turn the tables!
Zhang Er looked at him quietly without speaking, only taking out something from his shirt and passing it forward. Seeing this, the Third Prince hastily reached out his hand to receive it.
However, when he looked down, what Zhang Er had handed him was not a key, but a sharp dagger.
Zhang Er suddenly grabbed the Third Prince's hand and slashed it fiercely across his throat.
A thin, red line of blood appeared on the Third Prince's neck...
His mouth opened slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but he was choked by the blood constantly welling up from his throat, leaving him with nothing to do but stare deathly at Zhang Er.
“If not for you, and if I had stayed, my mother would not have gone mad,” Zhang Er said coldly, his eyes filled with hatred.
Upon hearing these words, the Third Prince convulsed violently, his hand locking onto Zhang Er's wrist like a shackle.
Zhang Er frowned and reached down to pry the Third Prince's hand open, exerting force until the finger bones popped and cracked. By the time he pried the hand off, a faint bruise had already been squeezed onto his wrist.
Zhang Er cast another glance at him. The Third Prince lay twitching slightly on the ground, the dagger resting right beside his hand.
This assassination had been terrifyingly smooth...
By the Hour of the Rabbit, a pale white dawn began to show on the horizon. The four people at the lakeside pavilion had still not dispersed. The wine on the table had bottomed out, and the food was mostly finished.
The Emperor, however, was in a rather good mood and dragged them into a long conversation, even sharing some details that could be considered palace secrets. Elder Li and Jiang Moran listened with great interest, whereas Fengqingzi was terrified of being silenced afterward.
“Your Majesty!”
Just as the Emperor was speaking with great enthusiasm, someone suddenly rushed in to report.
The Emperor frowned slightly, somewhat displeased by this interruption, but he gestured for the newcomer to speak.
“Reporting to Your Majesty, the Third Prince committed suicide in the Imperial Prison tonight!”
—Crash!
The wine cup in the Emperor's hand dropped to the ground, his pupils dilating slightly before quickly returning to normal.
The Emperor stood up from his chair. “I understand.”
The messenger quietly withdrew. The Emperor fell into a deep silence, and the cheerful atmosphere vanished in an instant.
“Old Li, see them out,” the Emperor said with a wave of his hand, turning to walk toward the imperial study.
Jiang Moran leaned back in his chair and shook his head as he watched the Emperor's retreating figure.
That once-majestic figure now appeared somewhat lonely—not like an Emperor, but more like a solitary old man.
“Let us go, young friend,” Elder Li said.
Jiang Moran nodded, and the two left the imperial palace under Elder Li's guidance.
Meanwhile, the news of the Third Prince's suicide in the Imperial Prison quickly spread among the various factions, instantly causing a massive stir.
This was especially true for those factions that had aligned themselves with the Third Prince; their hearts turned cold. They had been utterly outmaneuvered by the old Emperor after bringing their private armies into the palace in the middle of the night, and now the Third Prince had committed suicide in the Imperial Prison. These people who had picked their side early had their hearts filled with deep, bitter regret.
Inside the study of Six Doors.
The oil lamp had remained lit all night. Di Renjie sat at his desk, having stayed awake the entire night. He was waiting for someone.
The flame flickered for a brief instant. He turned his head slightly and saw Zhang Er already standing inside the study, only a few paces away from him.
“The Third Prince is dead. Where is my family?”
Di Renjie withdrew his gaze and slowly rose from his chair. Having sat for the entire night, his legs felt somewhat stiff, but he still stood firmly.
Zhang Er watched as he walked slowly to the door and reached out to open it.
Opposite the study was a guest room. It was still lit at this hour, and occasional sounds of talking and footsteps drifted out.
“They have been waiting for you,” Di Renjie said, looking toward the guest room.
“Waiting... for me?” Zhang Er was stunned for a moment. A strange sensation welled up from the depths of his heart, leaving him somewhat at a loss.
He instinctively walked toward the opposite side, his heart beating faster than ever. In the past, he had always existed as a mere blade. Now, could he finally live like a real human being?
—Swish!
A concealed arrow grazed past his cheek, bringing a faint, stinging pain to the side of his face.
Zhang Er's pupils shrank abruptly. He violently tore his gaze away from the lit guest room, only to realize that he had somehow walked into the middle of the courtyard.
The surrounding rooftops were packed with people. The moon emerged from the clouds, revealing the Golden Crow patterns embroidered on their clothes with gold thread.
Di Renjie stood at the doorway of the study, staring at him with cold eyes. Raising his hand high, he brought it down abruptly.
“Fire.”
The moment the word left his lips, a torrential rain of arrows suddenly erupted above Zhang Er's head, pouring down upon him from all directions. Standing in the middle of the courtyard, he had nowhere to hide.
He swung the short dagger in his hand repeatedly, but his efforts seemed utterly futile against the onslaught of arrows.
Pfft! Pfft!
Arrows pierced his arm and thigh at the same time. Zhang Er's body stiffened violently, and in that split second, he was struck by several more arrows. Fortunately, in his desperation, he managed to avoid his vital spots.
Once the volley of arrows passed, Zhang Er lay severely wounded on the ground.
Several arrows of varying depths protruded from his body, and blood poured continuously from the wounds. At this point, even if the men from Six Doors did not kill him, Zhang Er would still die from blood loss.
Lying helplessly on the ground, Zhang Er struggled to lift his head to look at the guest room opposite him.
He knew he could not escape, but he wanted to get a good look at what his family looked like, if only for the last time.
Step, step, step.
A flurry of footsteps sounded behind him, drawing closer and closer.
Finally, the footsteps stopped steadily right behind Zhang Er.
Di Renjie watched as the youth crawled toward the guest room with all his might. There was not a single ripple of emotion in the depths of his eyes as he spoke flatly.
“Zhang Er. Father, Zhang Hai. Mother, Zhang Xufang. One elder brother and one younger sister.”
Zhang Er's body stiffened, and he slowly turned his head to look at him.
Di Renjie noticed that Zhang Er's eyes were beginning to lose focus, but he continued, “However, your family died long ago.”
“And I have also fulfilled my promise—to reunite you with your family.”
Zhang Er's eyes widened. His mouth hung wide open, yet he was unable to utter a single word, his eyes remaining fixed in a deathly glare upon Di Renjie.
Soon, Zhang Er drew his last breath, but his eyes never closed, staring unblinkingly at Di Renjie.
If he could see himself, he would surely realize that his expression was almost identical to the one the Third Prince had worn in death.
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