Chapter 119.

Since the day Yao Shi's pregnancy was announced, the Third Prince’s estate had been buzzing with activity. But now, a peculiar hush had fallen over the manor. Its gates were locked tight, and not a soul stepped outside. The whole place seemed cloaked in secrecy, as if something big was brewing behind closed doors.

In stark contrast, the once-quiet and compliant Consort De had started making regular trips to the Qianqing Palace, paying respects to Emperor Longfeng with a frequency that raised more than a few eyebrows.

Consort De wasn’t a beauty by anyone’s standards, but her docile, accommodating nature made her a rare gem in the harem. She was the type to keep her head down, her hands clean, and her lips sealed—a perfect, unobtrusive flower blooming in the emperor’s shadow.

Emperor Longfeng wasn’t exactly taken with her, but he did indulge her from time to time, stopping by her quarters for a chat, if only to give her face. Out of ten requests to meet, he might grant her two or three.

The emperor’s health had plateaued—neither improving nor taking a sharp dive. His mind, however, had grown muddled, his memory slipping further by the day. On those rare occasions when his spirits lifted, he’d lose himself in reminiscing about the past.

Consort De, an old companion from his days as a prince, had shared in his trials and tribulations. This history made her his go-to listener for these nostalgic ramblings. Most of the time, it was the emperor doing all the talking while Consort De sat by his bedside, smiling softly, chiming in just enough to keep the mood light.

All the while, Yin Ciguang stood nearby, watching with cold, calculating eyes.

The emperor was old now. This illness had gutted him, leaving behind a feeble shell. At barely forty-something, he looked every bit a man two decades older, frail and withered, like a candle flickering in its final moments. The contrast was almost grotesque when compared to Consort De, whose youthful appearance made the emperor seem like her father—or even her grandfather. Yet there she was, clutching his hand, laughing softly, indulging his delusions of the good old days.

Yin Ciguang’s gaze dropped, his fingers moving deliberately as he stirred the incense ashes in the brazier with a silver stick.

The truth was, the emperor’s decline didn’t have to be this rapid. Long ago, as an unloved prince crushed under the weight of his brothers’ tyranny, he’d done plenty of hard labor to survive. He used to claim those hardships had toughened him, building a sturdy foundation for his body. Even after years of abusing his health with questionable remedies, all it left him with was chronic weakness—not this accelerated decay.

But heaven hadn’t struck him down. The man who rose from obscurity to sit on the dragon throne despite his mediocrity clung stubbornly to life. The irony was sharp: the righteous die young, but a scourge like him seemed to linger forever.

If the heavens wouldn’t deal with him, Yin Ciguang would.

It only took a little poison to coax out the old wounds festering inside his body. The rest took care of itself.

His lips curled into a faint smile. He smoothed the ashes and replaced the lid on the incense burner.

The emperor’s energy waned after chatting with Consort De for barely half an hour. As she left, Yin Ciguang brought in a tray of warmed medicine, carefully feeding him every drop before speaking in a low, measured tone. “High Eunuch Gao just reported that Commander Gong has been meeting with the Third Prince in private. Several times.”

The emperor’s drowsy eyes snapped open. “When did this start?”

“These past few days,” Yin Ciguang replied smoothly.

A dark shadow passed over the emperor’s face.

Commander Gong Hongfei wasn’t just any subordinate—he was practically family. Back when the emperor’s own mother had passed, leaving him to fend for himself as a neglected prince, Gong Hongfei’s mother had raised him, treating him like her own. Gong Hongfei, the loyal son of that wet nurse, had shielded the young prince from countless humiliations.

When Emperor Longfeng ascended the throne, it was only natural to appoint Gong Hongfei as commander of the Jinyiwei, the imperial secret guard. For years, Gong Hongfei had served dutifully, and even when he harbored his own ambitions, the emperor turned a blind eye.

But now? Now, with his body barely holding together, Gong Hongfei had already jumped ship to the Third Prince.

Emperor Longfeng’s eyes, clouded as they were, burned with a flicker of malice. The throne may have been an accidental prize, but he knew all too well the bloody path his brothers had tread to try and claim it. He wasn’t about to let history repeat itself.

From his belt, he pulled out a token and handed it to Yin Ciguang. His voice, hoarse but resolute, carried the weight of command. “Tell Gao Xian to keep a close eye on them. No slip-ups.”

Yin Ciguang accepted the token with a slight bow, a ghost of a smirk dancing at his lips. “Understood,” he murmured, lowering her gaze, his eyes gleaming with quiet triumph.

*

The undercurrents in the imperial harem didn’t concern Yin Chengyu. Instead, he quietly reinforced the security around Jingren Palace. Meanwhile, seizing the opportunity while holding the power of regency, he began settling old scores with Shao Tian.

Zhou Zhiling, who had been languishing in the imperial prison for days, was finally of use.

Every shady trail of the Zhou family's silver and private troops in Wangtuoling was dragged into the light, all fingers pointing squarely at Shao Tian.

In court, Yin Chengyu directly questioned Shao Tian. Yet the old fox remained calm, removing his cap as he cried foul.

“This is slander!” he exclaimed, his tone as steady as ever. “I’ve shown care to my clansmen over the years. It’s true I met Zhou Zhiling once in the past, but that was merely to encourage a younger relative to improve himself. How was I to know he harbored ill intentions and dared to commit such vile acts under my name? If Your Highness doubts my integrity, I am willing to resign from office to clear my name and allow for a thorough investigation!”

He knelt in the hall, tears streaming down his face, his forehead striking the ground repeatedly, refusing to rise.

A chain reaction followed. Officials with ties to Shao Tian removed their caps and begged for a fair investigation to exonerate him.

Yin Chengyu, anticipating this display, looked down at the sea of kneeling officials. With calculated grace, he neither approved nor denied Shao Tian’s resignation. Instead, he ordered the Ministry of Justice and the Dali Court to jointly investigate the matter. To the old minister, he granted leave and a generous reward, sending him home to “rest.”

“If it turns out Zhou Zhiling's accusations are false,” Yin Chengyu declared, “I will ensure Shao Daren’s name is restored.”

But these little ripples, flimsy and unsubstantiated, were never going to uproot Shao Tian’s deeply entrenched power. Yin Chengyu’s aim wasn’t that shallow.

Back in Ciqing Palace, Yin Chengyu summoned Xie Yunchuan for a private audience.

By now, Xie Yunchuan was well-acquainted with the inner workings of Ciqing Palace. Upon receiving the summons, he promptly made his way in.

Opening his book, he prepared to pick up where they had left off, only for Yin Chengyu to wave him off.

“No need to read today,” Yin Chengyu said, his voice casual but firm. “I have a dilemma and wish to hear your thoughts.”

Xie Yunchuan closed the book, straightened his posture, and responded, “Your Highness, please speak.”

Without mincing words, Yin Chengyu outlined the political storm brewing in the court. “Zhou Zhiling has been interrogated multiple times by the Eastern Bureau, and his testimony checks out. However, he lacks tangible evidence. Shao Tian is a senior minister I hold in esteem, yet I cannot turn a blind eye to potential corruption. What do you think I should do, Xie Daren?”

The mention of Shao Tian caught Xie Yunchuan off guard. His hands clenched tightly on his lap, betraying his unease.

He cast a cautious glance at Yin Chengyu, analyzing the Crown Prince’s expression, wondering why he was being consulted on such a critical matter.

As a low-ranking official, why him, of all people?

Could it be that the prince had uncovered his hidden identity?

But no matter how hard he scrutinized Yin Chengyu’s face, he couldn’t decipher any clear intent. Steeling himself, he replied with measured words, “If Zhou Zhiling’s claims are true, then Shao Tian’s misconduct is unlikely to be an isolated incident. Your Highness might consider investigating other leads to verify the truth.” He lowered his gaze, masking the turmoil in his eyes. “As the Thirty-Six Stratagems advises, ‘Probe with doubt, act only after verification.’ Perhaps this could guide Your Highness.”

Yin Chengyu paused thoughtfully, then smiled faintly. “The Thirty-Six Stratagems also says, ‘Exploit the enemy’s vulnerabilities to gain the upper hand.’ Does Xie Daren understand its meaning?”

Xie Yunchuan’s chest tightened. Every word seemed laden with implication, as though Yin Chengyu was peeling back layers of pretense.

He clenched his fists beneath his sleeves, his mind in turmoil.

Over the past few days of serving the crown prince, Xie Yunchuan had developed a growing admiration for him. Yin Chengyu exuded wisdom and compassion, embodying the ideal heir to the throne. Anyone who met him would struggle not to revere him.

But could such a perfect person truly exist?

The truth behind the Xie family’s downfall implicated not only Shao Tian but potentially tarnished the emperor’s reputation. Could Yin Chengyu, as the emperor’s son, genuinely overturn the case and bring justice to the Xie family?

The weight of ten lives lost in his family pressed heavily on Xie Yunchuan’s heart. The timing wasn’t right, and he couldn’t afford to gamble.

With a deep breath, he replied smoothly, “When the enemy falters, one must seize the opportunity to strike and secure victory.”

Yin Chengyu studied his face. Seeing Xie Yunchuan gradually regain composure, he ceased his probing. “You’ve made your point. Let’s leave it here for today.”

Xie Yunchuan bowed respectfully and retreated.

As he exited the hall, he crossed paths with Xue Shu, who seemed to have just finished his own business.

Xie Yunchuan had heard much about Xue Shu, the young and ruthless head of the Eastern Bureau, reputed to be merciless and cunning. Despite the rumors of a rift between him and the crown prince, it seemed their relationship had improved after Xue Shu saved Yin Chengyu’s life in Qingzhou.

Yet Xie Yunchuan’s personal encounters painted a different picture. Xue Shu, though sharp-featured and intimidating, was uncommonly amicable—not only to him but to everyone in the crown prince’s circle.

Bowing courteously, Xie Yunchuan greeted Xue Shu, who returned the gesture with a calculated smile.

“Xie Daren, leaving so soon?” Xue Shu asked with deceptive warmth.

“The prince is busy today,” Xie Yunchuan replied curtly, offering no further details.

Xue Shu fell into step beside him, chatting idly until the topic turned, almost too smoothly, to Zhou Zhiling’s case.

“His Highness asked me to look into Shao Tian,” Xue Shu said, feigning exasperation. “The Eastern Bureau scoured every corner and found nothing. Shao Tian appears to be the picture of virtue. But isn’t it strange? Even the cleanest officials leave some dirt behind, yet his record is spotless. Suspiciously spotless.”

Xie Yunchuan stopped in his tracks, meeting Xue Shu’s gaze. The pieces fell into place.

Dispensing with pretense, he said, “The crown prince already knows, doesn’t he?”

Xue Shu’s smirk deepened, his words deliberate. “His Highness is generous. He doesn’t force anyone’s hand. If Xie Daren speaks, he listens. If not, he remains in the dark.”

The message was clear. Yin Chengyu had uncovered the truth.

Steeling himself, Xie Yunchuan made his choice. “This isn’t the place to talk. Lead the way.”