The sun slanted westward, and dusk crept out from layers of light and shadow, its tendrils stretching quietly from the corners of the walls to the desk. Suddenly, a mass of shadow descended from above, blotting out the daylight beyond the window—like a great owl spreading its wings to eclipse the sky as it swooped low past the sill.
“Who’s there?!”
The young man seated inside turned sharply at the sound. In the blink of an eye, his hand had already found the short dagger hidden beneath the desk, drawing it up defensively before his chest.
Yu Gong Zhao Ye vaulted in through the window. “It’s me.”
“Your Highness ?!”
The other’s guarded posture immediately relaxed. Wearing a face identical to Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s, he rose to his feet and blurted out, rather unsteadily, “You’ve finally returned—I thought…”
“Keep your voice down, don’t shout.” Yu Gong Zhao Ye tilted his head slightly, his ears still ringing from the explosion. “Thought what? That I—mmph—”
The stand-in youth grabbed a pomelo from the fruit tray and swung it straight into his face, cutting off Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s unrestrained mouth.
“At the first quarter of the You hour, we’re due to enter the palace for the banquet—and the sun’s already setting, yet there’s still no sign of Your Highness! I thought you’d run off!”
“If I couldn’t make it back, you’d take my place. It’s not the first time you’ve impersonated me—what’s there to panic about?” Yu Gong Zhao Ye casually stripped off his dust-stained black outer robe. The young man’s eyes caught the large patch of blood on the inner sleeve, and the hair that had just settled prickled upright again.
“The wound reopened? Shall I summon the court physician to re-bandage it?”
“It’s nothing.” Yu Gong Zhao Ye removed his inner garment as well, bundling it together with the outer robe and tossing them aside. The white cloth on his arm bore only a small patch of dried crimson. “Burn these clothes later.”
“It’s getting late—you should hurry and change before departing.” The young man glanced at the sky, then lowered his voice solemnly as he reported, “There’s another matter that seems very strange. This afternoon, a unit of the Imperial Guards suddenly arrived, claiming they were ordered to protect the delegation. No one is allowed to enter or leave freely—but from the way they’re acting, it’s more like they’ve sealed off the relay station. Vice Minister Liu tried to inquire about the situation but was turned back by the officer in charge. We don’t know what’s happened outside—why would Xiling suddenly do something like this…”
Yu Gong Zhao Ye raised a hand, cutting him off. “I understand. Go invite Vice Minister Liu to see me.”
As the former king had only recently passed away, Yu Gong Zhao Ye was still in mourning. Thus, he changed into a plain black robe without patterns or ornamentation. The fabric, however, was far more luxurious than before, and the cut more formal—its wide sleeves and hem concealing his tightly built, powerful frame, yet moving with a light, flowing grace that subtly outlined his lean, vigorous physique.
Three knocks sounded at the door. At his call, the visitor entered. The deputy envoy of Longsha, Vice Minister of the Court of Diplomatic Reception Liu Ming Zhong, had already changed into his official robes. Closing the door behind him, he bowed respectfully.
“What instructions does Your Highness have?”
His official robe was the same light crimson as Wei Fu’s. Yet whether it was due to Xiling’s superior dyeing techniques or the quality of the fabric, that color had seemed far more vivid and lustrous on Wei Fu.
The thought surfaced inexplicably, and Yu Gong Zhao Ye felt as though the explosion had rattled his brain. Grinding his back teeth, he spoke with a trace of coldness:
“There’s something I need to inform you of.”
This stubborn mule of a man likely didn’t know the meaning of “subtlety.” Without even inviting Liu Ming Zhong to sit, he opened with a thunderbolt:
“This afternoon, both envoys appointed by Xiling were attacked in the street. The assassins used thunder-fire bombs to destroy their carriage. The chief envoy, Han Shao, has been gravely injured and is unconscious. The deputy envoy, Wei Fu, narrowly escaped.”
“What?!”
Liu Ming Zhong’s vision went dark. He swayed on the spot, nearly convinced he had misheard. Yet Yu Gong Zhao Ye gave him no time to steady himself. Regardless of whether he could process it, he continued:
“There were two groups of attackers. They had already learned the travel routes of both men and struck separately. The method was the same—deliberately collide with the carriage to force it to stop, then seize the opportunity to throw thunder-fire bombs inside. After creating chaos, they took advantage of the gathering crowd to scatter papers inscribed with verses.”
Liu Ming Shu asked in a trembling voice, “What poem?”
Yu Gong Zhao Ye drew a sheet of yellow paper from his sleeve and handed it to him.
Two lines of inked characters fell into his sight. Liu Ming Zhong thought his eyes were deceiving him; he read them over again and again—three times in total—before sharply sucking in a breath. Staggering, he caught himself against the table, barely holding his unsteady body upright.
“Th-this… who did this? How could anyone choose such a moment to stir up trouble? Have they gone mad?!”
Yu Gong Zhao Ye asked suddenly, “You also think this was written by someone from Longsha?”
“I…”
Liu Ming Zhong froze for a moment, then quickly realized what that implied. His face flushed red as he struck the table heavily in grief and indignation.
“This is nothing less than killing the body and destroying the heart! They’re trying to force Longsha onto a dead end! I have failed His Majesty’s trust—how could I face the late king in the underworld…”
“Hold off on writing your will—it’s not yet time for you to die gloriously for the nation, Vice Minister Liu,” Yu Gong Zhao Ye interrupted, tapping the table. “We have spent the entire afternoon inside the relay station; we should not know of these events. I am telling you in advance so that you may reserve that righteous indignation for tonight’s banquet, and express it before the Emperor of Xiling.”
It was as if Liu Ming Zhong had been jabbed hard in the waist—countless words jammed back into his throat, choking him. His chest felt tight with suppressed emotion. After struggling to steady himself, he finally realized something was off—hadn’t Yu Gong Zhao Ye also remained within the relay station the whole time? How did he know all this, and where had he obtained that sheet of verse?
The secrecy of “Bihua” was such that even among Longsha’s officials, only a handful were aware of it. Liu Ming Zhong’s rank was far too low to inquire into such matters. He only knew that, in addition to the officials dispatched by the court, there were several attendants brought by Yu Gong Zhao Ye—servants of the Nightlight Hall.
In truth, he was not very familiar with this Prince Xiaohui. Yu Gong Zhao Ye seemed accustomed to keeping to himself, spending most of his time alone. Occasionally, he would exchange a few polite, perfunctory words. One could ask him anything—he appeared to have no strong opinions of his own, content to act as a decorative figurehead, complete his duty quickly, and return to his quiet devotions.
But now, as he sat there, Liu Ming Zhong felt as though he had become a different person.
No longer a flawless jade statue aloof from the dust of the world—but rather a blade honed by wind and blood. Hard, unyielding, its edge cold and gleaming, capable of cutting through all the lurking demons and shadows beneath heaven.
Strange—how could a pampered prince give off the impression of someone tempered by countless hardships?
“Your Highness…” Liu Ming Zhong murmured, unconsciously carrying a trace of hope, looking at him with unease.
“What you said just now is correct. At a moment like this, anyone who truly wishes for Longsha’s well-being would never commit such a self-destructive act.”
Yu Gong Zhao Ye set the tone with those words, and Liu Ming Zhong naturally followed:
“Provoking Xiling brings us no benefit. Someone must be deliberately sowing discord, seeking an opportunity to undermine the alliance between Xiling and Longsha.”
He adopted a posture of attentive listening, waiting expectantly for Yu Gong Zhao Ye to elaborate further. But not everyone could speak in long, eloquent analyses like Wei Fu. Yu Gong Zhao Ye simply didn’t have that many fabricated arguments at hand; it was not in his nature to be verbose. So he cut straight to the conclusion:
“Therefore, this must be a scheme of the Ten Aspects Sect.”
“…What?”
Liu Ming Zhong was stunned by this sudden pronouncement. “The Ten Aspects Sect?”
Yu Gong Zhao Ye, with some reluctance, offered a single hint:
“Who benefits the most is the culprit.”
“But…”
Liu Ming Zhong wanted to argue that Longsha itself was not entirely unified, and the possibility of an internal perpetrator could not be ruled out. To reach a conclusion so quickly seemed rash. Yet although Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s reasoning process was minimal—almost nonexistent—his certainty in the conclusion was absolute:
“If I say it’s the Ten Aspects Sect, then it is the Ten Aspects Sect.”
“When you meet the Emperor of Xiling tonight, that is all you need to remember.”
“It is said that Lord Liu is richly gifted in literary talent, particularly skilled in poetry and prose. Seeing you today, your reputation is indeed well deserved.”
“I recently happened upon a couplet of verse that I found quite intriguing, but unfortunately I do not know its origin. I wonder if Lord Liu has heard of it?”
At the evening banquet, the civil officials and scholars of the two nations exchanged poems in turn, their compositions faintly carrying an air of rivalry. Yu Gong Zhao Ye was not required to participate in such refined pursuits, leaving Liu Ming Zhong to shoulder the burden alone. He endured it nervously for more than half a shichen, and just as he thought the long ordeal was finally about to end, the Emperor of Xiling, who had maintained a cold and inscrutable demeanor all night, suddenly called his name.
Liu Ming Zhong’s heart skipped violently. He hurried to rise and said, “This humble servant is shallow in talent and limited in knowledge—I would not dare display my crude skills before Your Majesty.”
“Better to shatter together with the city than live in shame—wash away national humiliation with blood’,” Mu Heng recited unhurriedly. “What does Lord Liu think of this line? Does it resemble the work of a poet from your Longsha?”
Cold sweat instantly soaked through Liu Ming Zhong’s inner garment, and his legs felt as though he were standing on cotton. But he could not help feeling that Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s earlier warning had been invaluable—otherwise, he would still be completely in the dark at this moment. Making a fool of himself would have been a minor matter; saying the wrong thing and affecting the fate of the nation would have been an unforgivable crime.
All eyes fell upon Liu Ming Zhong. Only Yu Gong Zhao Ye and Wei Fu, seated on opposite sides of the hall, met each other’s gaze across the crowd.
Liu Ming Zhong bowed deeply, then spoke with resonant conviction:
“Your Majesty, the alliance between our two nations began six years ago, when Yan Yuan invaded Longsha, and the Battle of Bihan City became known throughout the world. This line indeed carries the tone of one resolved to die for the cause. If the author intended to imitate the voice of Longsha’s soldiers and civilians swearing to defend their city to the death, it would not be out of place.”
Mu Heng’s lips tightened as he asked coolly, “Then by that reasoning, the poem reflects the sentiments of Longsha’s people?”
“Your Majesty’s insight is profound—but such words are merely one-sided claims, a corner of opinion; how could they speak for all the people?” Liu Ming Zhong dared not admit it so easily and immediately shifted his stance. “Moreover, there is a subtle flaw in the wording—one that only a native of Longsha could recognize. It is no wonder that it has misled Your Majesty’s judgment and obscured its true origin.”
Mu Heng’s brow twitched slightly. “What flaw?”
Liu Ming Zhong stood upright, his voice ringing like metal striking stone:
“In years past, when a wolfish nation raised arms to invade our borders, Longsha’s soldiers and civilians yielded not a single inch of land, and not one official—civil or military—ever bent the knee to sue for peace! We have never spoken of ‘national humiliation’. There has only been national crisis—only hatred of our enemy, irreconcilable and absolute!”
“A vendetta beyond measure—if there is anything to wash it away, the severed head of He Lan Zhen Jia alone would suffice!”
Silence fell across the hall. The assembled officials looked at one another, while in the vast and shadowed depths of the palace, only the faint echo of his words lingered.
Liu Ming Zhong had spoken with genuine emotion. His chest rose and fell, his breath rough and choked, his eyes reddened. Yu Gong Zhao Ye quietly rose, prepared to plead on his behalf—but the Emperor of Xiling suddenly spoke from the throne:
“As the saying goes, ‘In fierce winds, strong grass is revealed; in troubled times, loyal ministers are known’. It seems Lord Liu possesses not only eloquence, but also a loyal and righteous heart. Attendants—grant him writing brush, ink, paper, inkstone, and a rhinoceros-belt with a golden cup.”
Even Yu Gong Zhao Ye was taken aback. Liu Ming Zhong, dazed, expressed his gratitude. Mu Heng, however, said nothing further, merely signaling to the Secretariat Attendant to proclaim the imperial edict.
Once the decree appointing the assisting minister was announced, it signified that Xiling was still willing to maintain amicable relations with Longsha. The Longsha delegation could, for the moment, breathe easier—the perilous crisis of the assassination attempt on the envoys had, for now, been crossed.
Amid the clear and sonorous voice of the official proclaiming the edict, Yu Gong Zhao Ye heard the first name:
Wei Fu.
Not as deputy envoy, but as the imperial-appointed chief envoy—the assisting minister who would guide Longsha for the next three years.
He could not immediately turn to catch the expression on that man’s face, but he knew well what those eyes looked like when they smiled.
Within the great hall, Mu Heng’s voice was not loud, yet it carried clearly to every ear:
“This afternoon, criminals lay in ambush by the roadside and rammed into the carriage of officials. The originally appointed chief envoy Han Shao and deputy envoy Wei Fu were both attacked; the sound of explosions echoed through the streets. Minister Wei escaped with only minor injuries, while Minister Han remains unconscious.”
“This case is shocking and rare within the realm. I had intended to select new envoys—but Minister Wei insisted on continuing the mission.”
“If he chose self-preservation, who is to say the enemy would not employ the same tactics against his successor? The dignity of the state cannot be provoked by petty villains. The more others seek to obstruct the alliance between our two nations, the more Xiling and Longsha must stand together.”
“A promise worth a thousand gold—unchanged even in life and death. This is his loyalty, and it is also the righteousness with which I treat Longsha.”
“I trust you will not betray this intent.”
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