Chapter 18.

Xue Shu paused in his tracks, turning to look at Wei Xihe.

His gaze was anything but friendly—cold hostility glinted in his eyes. Xue Shu had always been acutely attuned to Yin Chengyu’s emotions. From the moment Yin Chengyu invited Wei Xihe to join the Crown Prince’s retinue, Xue Shu knew Wei Xihe wasn’t just another court advisor.

The Eastern Palace housed many strategists and scholars who offered counsel and discussed state affairs. Yin Chengyu treated them all with respect, but none stood out as special. Wei Xihe, however, was different. Yin Chengyu’s eyes carried a familiarity toward him that Xue Shu couldn’t understand.

Yin Chengyu was a naturally cautious man, trusting only a select few. Yet somehow, he showed no wariness toward Wei Xihe, a man he had supposedly never met before. It reminded Xue Shu of the way Yin Chengyu had brought him into the palace all those while ago.

With Zheng Duobao and Zhao Lin already in the Eastern Palace, was there really a need for Wei Xihe as well?

Though Xue Shu maintained a calm demeanor, his eyes betrayed the storm of thoughts within. If not for the fear of angering Yin Chengyu, his first instinct would’ve been to eliminate the threat outright.

“What do you want?”

Wei Xihe didn’t miss the flash of murderous intent in Xue Shu’s eyes. Though uncertain of its origin, he lowered his gaze, doing his best to appear non-threatening. “Your Excellency’s shave isn’t quite clean. Most might not notice, but anyone with an eye for detail could spot it at once…”

“...A eunuch has no stubble.” Wei Xihe’s finger lightly traced his smooth jawline.

At fifteen, Wei Xihe had been abducted by bandits. During his escape, he was caught and brutally injured—his legs crushed under a horse’s hooves and his lower body gravely wounded. The subsequent medical treatment saved his life but left him castrated.

Though older at the time of his injury, which spared him the sharp, high-pitched voice of younger eunuchs, he eventually stopped growing facial hair altogether.

Xue Shu, only two or three years younger than Wei Xihe had been then, still bore the faint shadow of stubble even after a thorough shave. While he could excuse it by claiming he’d been castrated later in life, it was still a detail that could be exploited by those looking for leverage.

Instinctively, Xue Shu ran a hand over his chin. The roughness confirmed Wei Xihe’s observation.

He had studied the eunuchs of the palace meticulously, even scrutinizing Zheng Duobao. Those castrated young were smooth-skinned, soft-voiced, and often carried an air of femininity. Older eunuchs, though less transformed, rarely grew facial hair.

He could control his voice, but stubble was another matter. No matter how diligently he shaved, a faint trace always remained.

“Do you have a solution?” Xue Shu asked, indirectly acknowledging Wei Xihe’s accusation.

“I once read about a salve in a wandering physician’s notes,” Wei replied carefully. “Apply it to the jaw for a short while before shaving, and it removes the hair entirely, leaving no trace.”

The salve, Wei Xihe knew, was originally used by women seeking to remove unwanted body hair. With repeated use, the hair wouldn’t grow back at all. Wei Xihe had taken a risk, guessing at Xue Shu’s secret, and it seemed to have paid off.

“I want that recipe. What do you want in return?” Xue Shu’s voice was sharp.

Wei didn’t bother hiding his intentions. “I’ve entered the palace as a eunuch with no background or support. I hope Your Excellency will lend me your guidance in the future.”

Xue Shu frowned. While he resented Wei Xihe’s growing proximity to Yin Chengyu, he couldn’t understand why Wei Xihe would willingly choose the harsh life of a eunuch. “The Crown Prince doesn’t care about your status. Wouldn’t you have a brighter future following him as you are?”

He didn’t buy Wei Xihe’s polished reasoning for a second.

“I want power,” Wei Xihe said bluntly, his smile faint but knowing. “And there’s no place closer to power than the imperial palace. Besides, while the Crown Prince is noble and virtuous, I’ve already seen the ugliness of human nature. Without a few tricks, I wouldn’t survive.

“The Crown Prince values my abilities, but I doubt he would tolerate my schemes.”

Wei Xihe had done his research long before the Crown Prince’s entourage arrived in Tianjin. Yin Chengyu’s reputation as a man of principle and gravity was well-known, but the real person was even more awe-inspiring.

Yet for someone like Wei Xihe, who thrived on cunning and deceit, such a righteous man was both admirable and utterly incompatible.

Rather than risk suspicion and discontent from his lord in the future, he might as well seize this small merit and take a different path now.

At this point, he couldn’t afford to dream of walking a smooth, sunlit road anymore.

Xue Shu caught the meaning behind his words. His gaze toward Wei Xihe softened, losing its earlier hostility.

Wei Xihe, after all, was a man of clarity and self-awareness.

To judge a person’s character, one need only observe those around them. The people serving Yin Chengyu—Zheng Duobao, Zhao Lin, and others—were pure-hearted and utterly loyal.

By comparison, Xue Shu often felt like the odd one out.

That realization sometimes left him uneasy but, more often than not, gave him a peculiar sense of satisfaction.

After all, despite being surrounded by straightforward and honest people, Yin Chengyu had kept him close. Didn’t that suggest he held a unique position in the crown prince’s eyes?

Wei Xihe’s decision today only strengthened Xue Shu’s conviction.

“You’re not completely blind, I’ll give you that,” Xue Shu remarked, sparing Wei Xihe a glance. “Once we’re back in the capital, I’ll see to your arrangements.”

With that, he turned and headed for the waiting carriage.

Inside, Yin Chengyu had been waiting for a while. When Xue Shu finally entered, the prince frowned in mild irritation. “What were you discussing with Wei Xihe?”

Xue Shu, without hesitation, recounted their conversation and asked, “Do you think Wei Xihe was right?”

Yin Chengyu lowered his gaze, remaining silent.

Of course, Wei Xihe was right—but that man belonged to a past life.

Back then, Yin Chengyu had devoted himself to studying the classics, determined to be a principled, courteous crown prince who treated worthy men with respect.

He served the Great Yan with unyielding dedication—never forming cliques, never seeking personal gain. He honored his parents, loved his siblings, and won universal praise. And yet, what was his reward?

On the day his mother died in childbirth, he was drugged and framed, discovered in a compromising position with a consort from the harem.

Everyone knew it was a setup, but that didn’t matter.

The emperor publicly condemned him as immoral and disgraceful. Officials, fearing to speak out as the imperial consort’s family crumbled and the empress perished, chose silence. Meanwhile, the factions of the second and third princes took the opportunity to fan the flames, spreading rumors far and wide. His name became a curse, his reputation plunged into the mud, and he was exiled to the royal mausoleum for five years.

Later, he gambled everything, enduring humiliation and even offering himself to secure a chance at redemption.

When he returned to court, he cleared his name with hard evidence, but the victory felt hollow.

That night, drunk and bitter, he demanded of Xue Shu: Why was the world so unjust? Why were the righteous crushed underfoot while the wicked roamed free?

Xue Shu had only stared at him silently before replying, “The world is inherently unjust. If you want justice, you must seize power for yourself.” Then, with a sardonic lift of his chin, he added, “Without power, even a crown prince can be brought so low as to mix with a eunuch like me. If you’re unwilling to accept this fate, go and fight for it.”

His words stung, but they were true.

The court and palace were nothing but battlegrounds of ambition and deceit. If you chose not to fight, clinging instead to the illusion of integrity, you’d only find yourself trampled.

From that moment on, Yin Chengyu abandoned his naive ideals.

A shadow flickered through his gaze as he murmured, “If I preferred the straightforward and honest, would I have kept you by my side?”

“I’m different,” Xue Shu countered, frowning.

“Oh?” Yin Chengyu arched a brow and leaned closer, gripping Xue Shu’s chin with a smirk. “What’s different about you? A prettier face than most?”

Xue Shu held his breath, meeting the prince’s gaze head-on.

It wasn’t until their faces were nearly touching that Yin Chengyu realized how close they’d gotten. Perhaps it was the frustrations of his past life resurfacing—he couldn’t help but want to return the favor.

Releasing his hold, he pushed Xue Shu away and leaned back with a lazy sneer. “Sit farther. You’re an eyesore.”