Chapter 73.

The Emperor of Longfeng sat in brooding silence, his expression unreadable. But with the Crown Prince growing older and wiser, he chose not to pursue the matter further, simply waving the man away.

Noble Consort Wen noticed the darkening storm cloud of his face, and a faint, almost imperceptible smile flickered across her lips.

Yin Chengyu stepped out of the hall only to run straight into his younger brother, Yin Chengjing. The Third Prince approached from the opposite direction, his destination unclear. The moment their eyes met, Yin Chengjing paused briefly before offering a courteous bow. He casually brought up the wager from the banquet earlier.

"Big Brother seems unusually confident about this year's Danxi winter hunt. Could it be thanks to that formidable new recruit of yours?" His tone was light, but there was an edge to his words.

Since his recent house arrest after a harsh reprimand from the Emperor, Yin Chengjing had been careful, keeping his head down and avoiding unnecessary attention. Even now, with the restrictions lifted, he rarely sought out Yin Chengyu. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t keeping tabs. He already knew his older brother had subdued two rebel leaders during his recent trip to Shandong. While the female leader didn’t concern him much, the other—He Shan—had him on edge.

Reports claimed that He Shan was a beast of a man, strong enough to lift massive weights with ease. If brought into the fold, he’d undoubtedly become a powerful asset to the court. Yin Chengyu had stationed He Shan at the capital garrison but hadn’t yet sought an official appointment for him—clearly, the Crown Prince had other plans in mind.

To make matters worse, both He Shan and another key ally, Ying Hongxue, were listed to participate in this winter hunt.

Yin Chengjing’s thoughts raced as he calculated his next moves, but Yin Chengyu broke his reverie with a sharp retort. "Hesitation leads to weakness, and weakness loses battles. Whether or not we're fully prepared, Tatar and Oirat must not see us falter. Great Yan’s pride is non-negotiable." He eyed his younger brother with a glint of disdain. "Or has the Third Prince so little faith in his own kingdom’s sons?"

Even though Yin Chengjing was certain that defeat was inevitable for Great Yan—whether disastrous or barely respectable—he couldn’t afford to publicly undermine morale. Feigning compliance, he bowed slightly and said, "Of course, I have faith."

Satisfied, Yin Chengyu nodded. "Good. So do I." With a perfunctory bow of his own, he turned and strode away, leaving Yin Chengjing glaring after him.

"Damn slippery bastard," Yin Chengjing muttered under his breath. After all that probing, Yin Chengyu hadn’t revealed a single thing. His older brother was becoming harder to pin down, slicker and more elusive by the day.

After a moment of contemplation, Yin Chengjing wrapped his cloak tighter and headed toward Qushui Pavilion.

The pavilion sat on the western side of the palace grounds, its name derived from a curved stream that meandered through the area. Surrounded by gardens, it was a popular spot for visitors, ideal for blending into the background.

Yin Chengjing had deliberately chosen such a public venue to meet Aharu. A conspicuous meeting in the open was far less suspicious than a covert rendezvous. If anyone asked, it would simply appear to be a chance encounter.

The rendezvous point was an octagonal pavilion perched on the highest elevation, its name Lan Fang proudly inscribed on a plaque. Yin Chengjing climbed the steps leisurely, entering the pavilion as his attendants set up a small brazier and tea set, all under the guise of enjoying the view.

Moments later, Aharu arrived. The two greeted each other with the ease of acquaintances who had happened to cross paths. Accepting Yin Chengjing’s polite invitation, Aharu seated himself across from the prince.

From their vantage point, they could see everything below while remaining safely out of earshot. Aharu, with his sharp, predatory eyes, picked up the tea but didn’t drink it. He simply studied Yin Chengjing, as if trying to unravel the prince's every thought.

This man, with his rugged, plainsman appearance, was far craftier than he seemed.

“What business does the Third Prince wish to discuss?” Aharu asked, his voice calm yet probing.

Yin Chengjing took a slow sip of his steaming tea, his tone light but cutting. “Word has it that King Tore Khan has plans to swallow up the Oirats. Unfortunately for him, he missed his chance this spring. If he tries again after they’ve regained their strength, the Oirats won’t be such easy prey.”

Aharu’s eyes gleamed with intrigue, but he didn’t rush. He wanted more. “Does the Third Prince have a way to handle this?”

Yin Chengjing leaned back, deliberate and calm. “During the winter hunt at Danxi, the Oirats offered ten thousand warhorses as tribute and suggested a marriage alliance with Great Yan. It’s clear they’re looking to use Great Yan’s power to counter the Tatars.” He let the words linger before driving the point home. “From what I know of my dear elder brother, regardless of the outcome of this winter hunt, he’ll push to support the Oirats. Tuo Lie Khan’s ambitions are likely doomed to fail.”

Aharu, unfazed and as solid as a mountain, met Yin Chengjing’s gaze with a knowing smirk. “You didn’t bring me here to state the obvious, Third Prince. What’s your solution?”

Yin Chengjing cursed Aharu’s cunning inwardly but pressed on with his pitch. “My brother and I don’t see eye to eye on this. If it were up to me, I’d throw my full support behind Tuo Lie Khan to crush the Oirats once and for all. The northern tribes are too many, too chaotic. Every time there’s a lean year, they raid our borders. Instead of tolerating these constant incursions, why not crown a single leader to unite the north? A unified north under a strong leader would mean peace treaties, open trade, and no more pointless wars.”

Aharu’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “You’re after the throne, aren’t you?”

Yin Chengjing didn’t bother denying it. A flicker of raw ambition flashed in his eyes. “The ruler of the world should be the one most capable. But our dynasty is mired in tradition, choosing heirs based on birthright, not ability. If I want the throne, I’ll have to carve my own path.”

Aharu burst into laughter, his voice booming. “Compared to the Crown Prince, you certainly have more grit, Third Prince.” But he didn’t commit. “Still, this is an internal matter for Great Yan. If the Tatars intervene, it might spark unnecessary conflict. That wouldn’t be wise.”

Yin Chengjing expected this. His lips curved into a cool smile as he refilled his cup, his voice dropping to a dangerous purr. “Then don’t let anyone know the Tatars are involved. The Danxi winter hunt will bring warriors, nobles, and heirs from across the land. The mountains are cold and treacherous. An accident wouldn’t be out of the ordinary.” He paused, letting the suggestion seep in before delivering the final blow. “And let’s not forget the Oirat prince. Surely, the Grand Chancellor wouldn’t want Great Yan aligning with the Oirats either?”

Aharu fell silent, lost in thought.

He didn’t trust Yin Chengjing, but the prince wasn’t wrong. Based on Great Yan’s usual practices, no matter the outcome of the hunt, they’d end up backing the Oirats.

“You make a compelling case, Third Prince,” Aharu finally said, his grin broad and friendly, though his eyes remained shrewd. “But Great Yan is the host here. We’re in unfamiliar territory. I trust you’ll lead the way.”

Yin Chengjing raised his cup, his eyes glinting with dark purpose as he toasted Aharu. “Naturally.”

*

Yin Chengyu didn’t return to his courtyard right away. After thinking it over, he decided to seek out Yin Ciguang first.

What happened today wasn’t really about Yin Ciguang. It was about the identity of the Princess of Great Yan. Whether it was Princess Uju or Prince Mubai’er, their schemes had nothing to do with Yin Ciguang personally. They were only using the title of the Great Yan Princess as a tool for their own ends.

Even the gamble Yin Chengyu made with the Oirat and Tatars today wasn’t for Yin Ciguang. In that setting, the Princess of Great Yan represented the dignity of the entire empire.

Yin Ciguang, caught in the middle of this, had no say in the matter.

Considering their shared history and debts of gratitude, Yin Chengyu figured it was only fair to give Yin Ciguang some clarity. Certain things needed to be said to ease his mind.

When the Crown Prince arrived, Yin Ciguang was briefly startled. He gently patted Consort Rong’s hand in reassurance before standing up to greet him.

Thanks to plentiful medicinal treatments over the past few months, his health had improved significantly. Still, his congenital frailty lingered, leaving his thin figure looking delicate. The slightly oversized lotus-green robes hung on him, giving off a faint impression of a fragile beauty, reminiscent of a classic, tragic heroine.

He walked over with measured steps, his every movement dignified. Bowing deeply to Yin Chengyu, he finally lifted his face and said in a soft, composed tone, “I didn’t expect Your Highness to honor me with a visit. Forgive me for not greeting you sooner.”

Yin Chengyu studied him. Compared to before, the pallor of his sickly face now carried a hint of life, giving him a touch more vitality.

“About what happened at today’s banquet,” Yin Chengyu began, choosing his words carefully, “you don’t need to worry. Since I dared to make that wager, I have every confidence in winning. Rest assured—Great Yan has stood for over two centuries without a single precedent of marrying off a princess in a political alliance.”

Yin Ciguang blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected the Crown Prince to come all this way just to say this to him.

He told himself not to read too much into it, but deep down, he couldn’t help but feel that this was Yin Chengyu’s way of putting him at ease.

His gaze softened momentarily, though it was quickly hidden beneath his lowered lashes.

“I trust Your Highness,” he said, his tone still submissive and gentle. Yet his straightened spine revealed a quiet resolve. “But as a member of the royal family, I have long since accepted my fate. The hunting grounds are like a battlefield; the situation can change at any moment. Even if Your Highness were to lose, I would not bear any resentment.”

He paused, then straightened further, bowing again with grave determination. “If the worst should come to pass and I am forced into an alliance marriage, I will take my own life first. All I ask is that Your Highness look after my mother.”

Yin Chengyu frowned. He could hear the fatalistic undertones in Yin Ciguang’s voice. No matter how many reassurances he offered, it was clear they wouldn’t entirely settle the other man’s unease.

With a sigh, Yin Chengyu gave his word.

Before leaving, he glanced back at Yin Ciguang, whose every movement was poised and perfect. After a moment’s hesitation, he asked, “Have you ever considered, even once, what it would be like to live free from the burden of this identity?”

Yin Ciguang froze. His eyes clouded with faint sorrow as he replied, “I could bear the crime of deceiving the Emperor, but my mother cannot. She has already endured too much for my sake.”

Who wouldn’t want to live openly and freely?

But for him and his mother, survival alone had been a struggle. They couldn’t afford to dream of more.

Yin Chengyu wanted to tell him that if he wished, there might be a way to reclaim his true identity. Emperor Longfeng was a devout believer in divine will, and the trusted Daoist Ziyuan was one of Yin Chengyu’s people. If Yin Ciguang wanted to restore his rightful status, Ziyuan could maneuver things so that the Emperor might not punish him.

But even he couldn’t guarantee that the Emperor wouldn’t impose harsh consequences.

If it were just Yin Ciguang, it might be worth the gamble. But with Consort Rong in the picture, Yin Chengyu could understand his hesitation.

So, he said nothing more and left it at that.

At the door, Yin Ciguang watched him go, his figure motionless for a long time.

Eventually, he turned back inside.

Consort Rong greeted him, her tears barely dry, and asked with a note of hope, “Did the Crown Prince come because of the marriage alliance?”

“Yes.” Yin Ciguang gently guided her to sit, his movements tender as he wiped away the lingering traces of her tears. “Don’t worry, Mother. The Crown Prince will help us.”

*

After leaving Yin Ciguang's place, Yin Chengyu returned to his own courtyard.

The moment he stepped into the yard, the crisp clash of weapons rang in his ears. Cutting through the hanging flower gate, he spotted the sparring ground off to the side. There, Xue Shu and Zhao Lin were locked in combat.

Winter had sunk its icy claws into the air, but neither man gave a damn. They faced each other clad only in thin training garb.

Xue Shu gripped a long blade, his sharp brows and frosted hair lending him an even more ferocious edge. His moves were brutal, untamed, each strike honed in the rough-and-tumble crucible of street brawls. Zhao Lin, on the other hand, was the epitome of discipline—a product of the Jinyiwei, his every strike calculated, precise, yet lacking the raw malice that marked Xue Shu's style.

Despite their differing techniques, it was clear who had the upper hand. Xue Shu's ruthless unpredictability outmatched Zhao Lin's polished discipline.

Yin Chengyu watched them for a while, hands tucked into his sleeves. Seeing that the match wasn’t going to end anytime soon, he turned and headed for the study.

From the corner of his eye, Xue Shu caught the prince's retreating figure. His expression darkened, and his strikes became sharper, more unrelenting.

Zhao Lin, already struggling to keep up, began to falter. Xue Shu, now a man possessed, wasn’t about to let this drag on any longer. A feint with his blade, and the next instant, the blunt edge was pressed against Zhao Lin’s throat. The match was over before the man even knew it.

Zhao Lin opened his mouth to commend him, but Xue Shu wasn’t interested. Tossing his blade aside, he grabbed a cloak from a nearby eunuch and hurried after Yin Chengyu.

Zhao Lin watched the scene unfold, a mix of admiration and exasperation stirring within him. Xue Shu’s devotion to the prince was undeniable—unwavering, fierce, and unpretentious despite the favor he enjoyed. It was no wonder the prince trusted him so completely.

Meanwhile, the ever-dutiful Xue Shu had already slipped into the study. The eunuch attending to the prince bowed and quietly withdrew, shutting the door behind him to keep out the biting winter wind.

Yin Chengyu sat at his desk, pen in hand, sketching over a map of the hunting grounds. He didn’t need to look up to know who had entered—the steady rhythm of footsteps had already given it away.

Xue Shu circled behind him, eyes locked on the prince’s back. The lingering heat of adrenaline and fury clawed its way to the surface, impossible to suppress.

It had started earlier, when Princess Uju dared to express her interest in Yin Chengyu at the banquet. From that moment, the beast within Xue Shu had roared to life, bloodlust simmering just beneath the surface.

In this life and the last, there were always too many people coveting what was his.

He wanted to destroy them all. Every single one.

But even that wouldn’t be enough. The source of their obsession—this untouchable figure seated calmly before him—would still remain, drawing attention like a god in the heavens.

No, the only solution was to hide him away. Lock him up. Keep him somewhere no one else could reach.

Make him laugh, cry, and rage only for him.

Just like the last lifetime, when he’d had full control over the prince’s every emotion, every desire. It wasn’t so bad. In fact, it had been perfect.

These thoughts whispered sweet poison into his mind, darkening his expression further. He leaned in, his breath ghosting over the prince’s delicate ear. The heat of his body trapped the other man, his arms braced on either side of the chair.

His voice was a low growl, thick with suppressed ferocity. “What does Your Highness think of Princess Uju?”

Out of Yin Chengyu’s sight, a cruel smirk twisted Xue Shu’s lips.

He was a predator lying in wait, a venomous serpent poised to strike. The moment the wrong answer came, he would not hesitate to sink his fangs into his prey.

———Author's Note: Big Doggo: Looks like locking up my wife is still the way to go. Big Doggo: descends further into madness

———TN: You're bound to lose your wife, screw it all up again, and repeat the same pathetic mistakes—until one day, your sorry remains are scattered to the wind.

"Show some love to this story—rate it, vote for it, and drop a comment! Don’t hold back now; let’s see what you’ve got!"