“Since the Empress has pleaded for you, and I also consider the late emperor’s bond with you—you shall be imprisoned in the Supreme Court pending judgment.”
The late emperor’s bond, my foot. Did the late emperor truly hold that much sway with Yu Lingxin?
Yu Lingxin had never once seen his father in his entire life. If anything, for someone like him, there was only cold hatred.
It was purely because the Empress had pleaded for him.
With such a major event unfolding tonight, Lü Chengcheng was naturally present.
In the past, he had found justification in everything Yu Lingxin did. The emperor was wise and martial, far-sighted, decisive, resolute, with thunderous authority—he felt even these lavish praises were insufficient. Yu Lingxin had given him hope for Tan Kingdom’s revival; he was willing to be a pure and loyal minister.
The late emperor had failed and corrupted his sons—those princes raised before him mostly resembled their father.
In the past, he, Wang Baozhen, and Han Yuncheng had wanted to prop up a puppet ruler—wasn’t that for the sake of Tan Kingdom’s foundations?
Even he felt that Situ Ming’s crime did not warrant the execution of nine clans.
But Your Majesty—what are you doing now?
Have you lost your mind?
Weren’t you supposed to be using her?
Why are you listening to her so readily?
Are you pretending to be weak to ease Xi Kingdom’s suspicions? But didn’t you just mince their spies into meat paste and send them back?
What are you doing? What are you thinking? This does you no good!
At least let her kneel—so we can say the Empress knelt and kowtowed, pleading for Situ Ming with her life. We could even spread word of Your Majesty’s wisdom and the Empress’s virtue far and wide.
But now? You won’t even let her kneel?
Aren’t you just empowering the Empress?
Heaven cannot have two suns; a kingdom cannot have two masters!
But no matter how Lü Chengcheng’s thoughts churned, at this moment he could only do his utmost to salvage the situation for Yu Lingxin. He knelt and kowtowed, proclaiming loudly: “Your Majesty is magnanimous, benevolent, and receptive to counsel—truly wise and brilliant! The Situ clan will surely be eternally grateful.”
Before Situ Ming was taken away, he glanced at Yu Lingxin—and knew what he had to do.
Less than an hour later, the Supreme Court reported back: Situ Ming had taken his own life out of fear of punishment.
“Grand Commandant Situ rendered great service. Send a coffin to escort his remains home.”
Only a handful of high ministers knew the full truth. To the outside world—the common people, most officials, and even Situ Ming’s family—they would only know that Situ Ming had rebelled, using the pretense of “rescuing the king” to surround Xuan Shi Hall at night, failed in his coup, and took his own life. All members of the Situ clan holding office within three degrees of kinship were stripped of their positions and sent back to their hometowns; their descendants were barred from holding office.
This was already the most lenient outcome in history. Unaware of the truth, they could only praise Yu Lingxin’s benevolence.
Yu Lingxin had been cursed all his life—for his violence, his cruelty. But the moment anything involved Jiang Nong, lavish praises would rain upon him as if free, and he could suddenly transform into a wise ruler admired by all.
The soldiers withdrew. Xuan Shi Hall fell silent again, as if tonight had always been this peaceful—as if nothing had ever happened.
Jiang Nong unfastened his cloak and handed it to Rong Mian. Rong Mian’s gaze darted between them, then she was led away by Xunliang.
Both were quiet. Only the wind outside tapped against the window lattice. Neither spoke.
Yu Lingxin didn’t know what she meant. Angry? Disappointed? But she should know—he had always been this way.
He had already restrained himself. In his previous life, why would he need to fabricate charges?
He was the emperor, the Son of Heaven. Why should he need to weave crimes to kill? Even if the people and ministers criticized him, who would dare say it to his face?
As long as Tan Kingdom flourished, a hundred years later only his brilliance would remain. And besides—when you die, you’re just a handful of earth—why care about reputation?
He knew—Jiang Nong thought he shouldn’t have framed Situ Ming.
This time, Jiang Nong didn’t even scold him—clearly, she was utterly disappointed.
Why couldn’t she love him? Why couldn’t she love him as he was now? Why did she always dwell in the past, loving that weak, useless, pathetic version of him?
Jiang Nong, can’t you just look at me? What was so good about him?
Can’t you accept even a little of my darkness?
The letters you wrote me, the concern you showed me, the handprint on the paper telling me not to be afraid—none of it was for me. It was for that Yu Lingxin who’s already dead.
The living could never compare to the dead—and Yu Lingxin hadn’t expected that he, alive, couldn’t even compare to himself dead. Both were him.
His gaze grew distant, his thoughts wandering somewhere far away. Jiang Nong finally rubbed her hands together, sat back down at the chessboard, and beckoned to him: “Come here.”
Yu Lingxin didn’t know what he was about to face, but he went over anyway, sitting across from her.
Jiang Nong raised her hand. He understood—leaning forward slightly, somewhat numbly, waiting for her palm to strike his face.
His movement was subtle, barely perceptible to most. But Jiang Nong had been a child who loved watching others closely. When she focused all her attention on someone, it was hard for her not to notice even the slightest change in them.
She raised her hand—perhaps to adjust her sleeve—but then paused, momentarily taken aback.
Jiang Nong had assumed that, given how glibly Yu Lingxin chattered on every day, he was someone with a strong, self-assured inner core. Even if she caught him off guard, so what? He would still be himself, completely indifferent to others’ opinions.
But now—what was this? Like someone who’d done something wrong, waiting to be slapped?
Jiang Nong rarely reflected on herself, but she began to wonder: had she slapped Yu Lingxin’s face too many times? So often that his first instinct was to expect a slap?
Heaven was her witness—she swore that in both lifetimes, she had always been dignified and gentle. Yu Lingxin was the first person she’d ever hit, and the only one—excluding Wen Zuhuan.
Yu Lingxin seemed to still be waiting.
He had clearly done something wicked himself, yet somehow he looked rather pitiful.
Jiang Nong’s hand still landed on his face—but surprisingly, it didn’t hurt. It was soft, warm, gently cupping his cheek, then patting it soothingly—as if praising an obedient puppy, telling it to be good.
Yu Lingxin’s entire body jolted violently, his pupils contracting sharply—a reaction even more intense than when he’d been wounded.
It was also a little amusing.
Jiang Nong’s eyes curved: “It’s getting late. Let’s finish this game of chess, then go to sleep.”
She moved to withdraw her hand. Yu Lingxin instinctively chased it, rubbing against her palm.
Jiang Nong paused, then kept her hand on his face for a while longer—until his cheeks, chilled from the cold outside, warmed to her body temperature. Only then did she slowly pull back and place her piece on the board.
Yu Lingxin had always prided himself on being the one who understood Jiang Nong best—able to read her likes and dislikes from any glance or gesture, to sense the shifts in her heart. But now he had become the person who understood her the least. He had no idea what she was thinking.
Why—even after he’d done something she disliked—was she still so gentle?
Yu Lingxin took several deep breaths just to remember how to breathe.
He was flustered—more so than when Jiang Nong simply hated him. He didn’t know what to do, his mind in utter chaos.
Was Jiang Nong accepting a little of his darkness, or did she think he was beyond redemption, not worth trying to reform?
Before they’d even made a few moves, Yu Lingxin lost the game.
Jiang Nong picked up the pieces one by one, occasionally glancing up to study Yu Lingxin’s expression.
Being a little kinder to him—why does he seem even more afraid?
Her first reaction to the Situ Ming affair had indeed been indescribable. She felt it was exactly the kind of wicked thing Yu Lingxin would do—yet unlike his previous life, it lacked that same brutality. He had shown restraint.
She had begged Yu Lingxin to spare Situ Ming’s life only to have a clear conscience. She hadn’t actually expected Yu Lingxin to listen to her—especially on a matter like this, under these circumstances.
He never listened to her about trivial things—so why would he about this?
But Yu Lingxin had agreed without hesitation…
When he pulled her up and wrapped her in his cloak, Jiang Nong was genuinely stunned.
He was changing. She didn’t know if he noticed it himself. If he hadn’t already intended to spare Situ Ming, how could he have agreed so quickly?
Besides loyalty, there was also obedience.
If someone else’s mad dog was barking at you, you’d curse and tell the owner to leash it before it bites. But if it was your own dog barking at outsiders—and it stopped the moment you called, wagging its tail pitifully—you’d only think it was a good dog, an obedient dog.
When others blamed you for letting it bark, you’d protect the dog and retort: “It’s just a dog—dogs bark and bite. But it’s very obedient—see? I called it and it stopped. I’ve got it on a leash. Don’t be so harsh on a dog.”
Jiang Nong probably didn’t realize it herself, but her attitude toward Yu Lingxin was exactly that of an owner toward a dog. From the moment she knew of Yu Lingxin’s loyalty, she unconsciously—though she didn’t like it—classified this mad dog that disgusted her as hers. She didn’t like him, but she couldn’t deny he was hers.
Dogs bite; Yu Lingxin was never a good person.
When I call the dog, it stops barking; when I say something, Yu Lingxin doesn’t take things as far.
An obedient dog is a good dog; Yu Lingxin isn’t as bad now—progress.
Yu Lingxin picked up the black stones; Jiang Nong picked up the white.
She snuck several glances at him. He was silent as a mountain.
By past experience, he was angry—but what was there to be angry about?
She hadn’t done anything. Was he angry she pleaded for Situ Ming?
Then he could have just refused!
Jiang Nong thought for a moment, then tossed all her white stones into Yu Lingxin’s black stone bowl—and even stirred them maliciously, just to make things a little harder for him.
Yu Lingxin stared at the bowl in silence for a long time. What did she mean? Why mix the white and black stones together?
White was her, black was him. Taking the initiative to mix them—did that mean she’d decided to accept everything about him and be together forever? From now on, she in him and he in her?
Impossible. Jiang Nong doesn’t love me. That, at least, Yu Lingxin was sure of.
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