Yu Gong Zhao Ye didn’t even let his breathing falter, replying smoothly, “There is no longer any ‘Bihua’ in this world.”
Wei Fu let out a derisive snort, the meaning clear—keep being stubborn if you like:
“The constables found two pieces of freshly flayed human-skin tattoos in the burned estate. The deceased, Song Man, and his advisor ‘Mr. Lin’, were both members of the Ten Aspects Sect, and judging by the patterns, their ranks were not low. According to the pharmacy clerk’s testimony, Xu Shi Fu had an eighteen-petal camellia tattoo on his right arm—he was also one of them.”
“But for Your Highness to personally investigate, someone at Xu Shi Fu’s level wouldn’t be important enough. That means there’s someone more significant behind him—you had your eye on him all along, didn’t you?”
A pampered young noble from the Duke Zhenguo’s household, a refined civil official who had never served in the provinces and only moved within the emperor’s inner circle—how could he know so many details about the Ten Aspects Sect?
“I’ll hazard a guess,” Wei Fu continued. “‘Bihua’ followed some lead to Xianglian City, dealt with Song Man and the other, and then traced the line further to Xu Shi Fu. Unfortunately, he was killed first by Zhang Wan, leaving only one living lead—the guest who met Xu Shi Fu that night.”
“Zhang Wan’s actions were accidental, but it looks like he startled your prey. The wound on your arm—was it from fighting that person? Who is he?”
Yu Gong Zhao Ye stood as if frozen, unmoving. Only after Wei Fu finished his analysis and looked at him with bright, expectant eyes, waiting for a response, did he turn his head slightly and, with great reluctance, squeeze out three words between his teeth—answering only the last question:
“A dead man.”
In the deathly silence that followed, Wei Fu clapped twice.
“…Very funny.”
Yu Gong Zhao Ye: “……”
Heaven, earth, gods, sun, moon, and stars—was it still possible to request that the Emperor of Xiling send someone else to Longsha instead?
“Before coming to Fengdu, I asked His Majesty of Longsha what kind of assisting minister he hoped Xiling would send.”
Compared to his usual effortless threats and counter-questions, speaking plainly—or simply telling the truth—seemed unexpectedly difficult for him.
Each word from Yu Gong Zhao Ye sounded as though it had been lightly bitten over before being spoken, careful and deliberate:
“His Majesty said: if they can arrive safely and leave safely, that is the best outcome.”
For the Longsha court, the most important quality of an assisting minister was neither talent nor temperament—it was the ability to carry out the three-year agreement without incident, and not give other nations any excuse to attack Longsha.
What kind of “minister” he was didn’t matter—so long as he was mediocre, tactful, and obedient.
And Wei Fu was clearly the opposite of all those qualities.
“Longsha is not like your smooth-sailing Xiling. The smarter you are, the more you know—the greater a threat you become to us, and the more dangerous your own situation will be,” Yu Gong Zhao Ye said softly. “‘Bihua’ is a secret tied to Longsha’s very survival. Young Master Wei, don’t let momentary curiosity cut off your future path.”
“I—”
Before he could argue, the horse pulling the carriage suddenly let out a long neigh, the bells clattering wildly. The carriage lurched violently, swerving in a sharp turn, nearly throwing the two of them against the walls.
Yu Gong Zhao Ye grabbed the roof with one hand to steady himself, and with the other seized Wei Fu by the collar, hauling him back. Outside, the driver was already shouting curses:
“Are you looking to die?! Blind fool! Rushing like a dog chased from behind—trying to reincarnate early?!”
It sounded like someone had collided with the carriage. Wei Fu reached to lift the curtain to see what was happening outside, when suddenly a dark object came flying straight toward his face. He tilted his head aside—the thing grazed his cheek, struck the seat with a dull thud, bounced once, and rolled into the corner of the carriage with a faint tearing sound.
Provoked, the driver flew into a rage:
“You bastard! Tired of living, are you?! Stop right there—I’ll drag you to the authorities and have you whipped today!”
“What—”
Yu Gong Zhao Ye turned his head and glanced over. In the dimness, he saw a flicker of red light—his expression changed instantly. Instinctively, he moved to pick the object up and throw it out. But just as Wei Fu lifted the curtain, the noise outside surged into clarity, forcing him to halt mid-motion. He turned sharply and barked at Wei Fu:
“Get off the carriage! Run—now!”
His reaction was already fast enough. But the carriage door was narrow, the vehicle had not yet come to a complete stop, and the driver stood there bewildered. Even if Wei Fu tried to obey, he couldn’t squeeze out in time. Yu Gong Zhao Ye lunged forward, without hesitation grabbing the driver by the back of his collar and flinging him away, while his other arm seized Wei Fu—then he leapt into the air—
Boom!
A piercing pain tore through his left arm. In that split second, Wei Fu tightened his grip around him. A wave of heat and force blasted them from behind, sending both men flying. In the next instant, all sensation was swallowed by the thunderous explosion and roaring flames.
“Ah—!!”
“Fire! Someone, put out the fire!”
“Murder! Murder!”
“Run! Help! Help!”
Thick black smoke surged skyward, dust billowing through the street. The two of them tumbled and rolled more than a zhang before finally coming to a stop.
Elio’s Notes: A zhang is a little over 3 meters (about 10–12 feet).
Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s ears rang violently, but the pain was minimal. Wei Fu had shielded him tightly, taking the full impact of the fall himself. Bracing a hand against the ground, Yu Gong Zhao Ye pushed himself up from Wei Fu’s embrace. At such close distance, he saw that Wei Fu’s eyes were shut, his lips drained of all color—and for no reason at all, his heart clenched.
“Young Master Wei?”
A hollow silence, as if all sound had been stripped away. Fingers tangled and reversed. And that last look—resolute, desperate, as if before annihilation…
Why had those memories surfaced all of a sudden?
“…Wake up. Can you hear me?”
“Cough—cough—cough—!”
Wei Fu jerked upright like a fish thrown onto land. Forgetting all decorum, he collapsed against Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s shoulder, coughing violently, as though he might cough his lungs out. Every breath seemed to tug at his chest, his back, even down to his tailbone—there was not a single part of him that didn’t ache.
“Who the hell is this rotten—cough—person…”
“This isn’t malice—it’s aimed at your life.”
Only moments ago, Yu Gong Zhao Ye had warned him not to meddle, and now his own words had come back to slap him in the face. A man accustomed to facing danger head-on, accustomed to handling the aftermath—now held tightly in another’s arms, barely even dusted after being thrown clear—he found it difficult to name the feeling. His expression grew colder than ever as he reached out to steady Wei Fu:
“Where are you hurt? Can you stand?”
“Hss… I’ll live.” Wei Fu bared his teeth as he took his hand and got to his feet. “Are you alright?”
Yu Gong Zhao Ye wanted to say, What could possibly be wrong with me? But the words felt too harsh once they reached his lips, so he merely shook his head. Wei Fu reached out and touched his sleeve; his fingertips came away stained with fresh blood. With a regretful sigh, he said:
“It split open again right after being wrapped. Your Highness, that arm of yours really has terrible luck—redo it yourself when you get back.”
“Worry about yourself first,” Yu Gong Zhao Ye said, at a loss for words. “The one who blocked the carriage escaped in the chaos. Did you see who threw the thunder-fire bomb…?”
“Look!”
“What is that?”
From above, it suddenly began to fall like drifting snow—countless scraps of coarse paper covered in inked characters fluttered down into the crowd. Wei Fu reached out and caught one. With a single glance, his expression changed.
“Who threw this?”
Yu Gong Zhao Ye looked around. The buildings along the street were crowded with onlookers, and more people were pouring into the alleys. Whoever had scattered the papers had long since vanished like a clay ox sinking into the sea—by now, they were likely already in another street.
He gave Wei Fu a slight shake of the head, indicating it would be hard to find the culprit. Wei Fu’s face darkened as he handed the paper over.
“Your Highness, look at this.”
The ink strokes on the paper were bold and dripping. It read:
(“Better to shatter together with the city than live in shame—wash away national humiliation with blood.”)
The impact of those words was no less than that of the thunder-fire bomb. Yu Gong Zhao Ye felt a sharp buzz in his mind; in an instant, half the blood in his body turned cold. He looked up instinctively—only to meet Wei Fu’s steady, shadowed gaze.
The spring-like softness in those eyes had frozen over.
With a hoarse voice roughened by coughing, Wei Fu asked:
“With whose blood… to wash away whose national humiliation?”
Yu Gong Zhao Ye, recalling what he himself had said earlier: “……”
He couldn’t even bring himself to say, “It wasn’t us.”
Because whether it was the method—carrying out an attack in broad daylight to shock the world—or the declaration itself, willing to perish together for the sake of national hatred… it all resembled too closely the work of “Bihua”—or rather, the kind of thing only the iron-willed people of Longsha would do.
What’s more, the list of Xiling’s delegation to Longsha had not yet been made public. Outsiders should have had no way of knowing it. And yet, he himself had just admitted to Wei Fu that Longsha had already obtained the names of the assisting minister and deputy envoy through covert agents.
If it wasn’t someone from Longsha—then who else could have targeted Wei Fu so precisely?
And at the moment of the attack, he had been sitting in Wei Fu’s carriage, having followed him the entire day. There could hardly be a more suspicious culprit than this.
“Does Your Highness have anything to say to me?” Wei Fu asked.
What was there left to say? The more he explained, the darker it would seem. Rather than waste breath defending something he hadn’t done, it would be better to return at once, investigate who had leaked the information, and consider how to answer to the Emperor of Xiling.
Yu Gong Zhao Ye said nothing and turned to leave—but Wei Fu grabbed his shoulder and forced him back.
“Say it. ‘It wasn’t me.’”
When trust had already collapsed completely, insisting on playing the good man was no longer dignified—it bordered on affectation. Yu Gong Zhao Ye met his gaze coldly, his eyes asking, What’s wrong with you?
Wei Fu shook his uninjured arm lightly. “Say it.”
Who would believe that?
Yu Gong Zhao Ye was certain he had only thought those words, not spoken them aloud—but Wei Fu seemed to read his mind, replying softly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world:
“If you say it, I’ll believe you.”
“Why?”
He knew his attitude toward Wei Fu had been anything but kind—more than once he had pressed a dagger to his throat, and his words had often been edged with sarcasm. And yet Wei Fu’s instinct to shield him was unwavering. That trust came too easily, too solidly. Such unguarded tolerance, instead of comforting him, made him bristle instinctively, every nerve on edge.
“Because you saved me again—I don’t believe you came to kill me.” Wei Fu curved his eyes in a fleeting smile, brief as the bloom of an epiphyllum. “And just now, you could have thrown that thunder-fire bomb out of the carriage. But you were afraid of harming innocent people outside, so you chose to risk jumping off yourself. Ruthless in action, compassionate at heart—whoever did this may imitate you well, but in the end, they are not you.”
Those words struck him like a thunder-fire bomb hurled straight at his forehead, exploding open the feelings he had hidden deep within. Yu Gong Zhao Ye fell silent for a long while before asking, completely off-topic:
“Why do I seem to have more and more questions the more I ask? Where did this ‘again’ come from? When was the first time?”
Wei Fu’s smile vanished instantly, his expression flipping like a page. “Figure it out yourself.”
Yu Gong Zhao Ye: “……”
“I need to enter the palace at once to see His Majesty. If this was orchestrated to sow discord between Xiling and Longsha, then Lord Han Shao may already be in grave danger. I’ll go stabilize the emperor and work out a response first.” Wei Fu blinked at him, then, without the slightest subtlety, opened his mouth to demand, “You still owe me that sentence, Your Highness Zhao Ye.”
All around them, discussion surged like a tidal wave, mingling with the scent of smoke and fire. The situation was treacherous and unpredictable, like standing at the edge of a cliff—one wrong step and there would be no return. And yet, Yu Gong Zhao Ye felt a strange sense of steadiness.
It came from the unwavering resolve of the person before him—like someone holding his hand and leading him forward through the fog.
“I was not aware of this matter. It was by no means ordered by our sovereign, nor does it reflect the will of the people of Longsha.”
Amid the drifting smoke, Yu Gong Zhao Ye met Wei Fu’s gaze and spoke each word with clarity:
“This was a deliberate scheme, devised to drive a wedge between Xiling and Longsha—”
“Such intent deserves death.”
“Your Highness speaks truly.” Wei Fu rested a hand lightly on his shoulder. His tone remained easy, but a chill edged his words. “Now, no matter the means, find out who this ‘schemer’ is. This matter must be accounted for to His Majesty and the court—but it cannot be presented directly from your hand. Do you understand what I mean?”
“…I understand.” Yu Gong Zhao Ye caught on immediately. “If it were you, where would you begin?”
Wei Fu’s smile deepened, carrying hidden meaning. “Naturally, whoever leaked the delegation list—we start with them.”
Yu Gong Zhao Ye: “……”
So he was still holding a grudge?!
By the rules of social conduct, this was the moment he should offer some polite words, make a tactful apology, and resolve the lingering tension between them. But before he could speak, orderly footsteps sounded from the street entrance, accompanied by shouted commands clearing the way:
“Make way! Step aside, all of you—move!”
Wei Fu, taking advantage of his height, glanced back. Then, swift as a flicker, he pressed the white porcelain bottle into Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s palm and gave his shoulder a light push. His soft laughter brushed past his ear like a whisper:
“The Egret Guards are here—you should run now.”
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