Xue Yan knew that the men he had brought with him from Yan Commandery were utterly loyal to him. They would never do anything beyond the orders they had been given.
At the same time, he also knew that while the Prince of Yan had been in command, Yan Commandery had been as secure as an iron fortress. No other faction had ever managed to interfere in its affairs.
In Yan Commandery, no one would disobey the Prince of Yan’s orders.
After hearing the divine physician’s conclusion, Xue Yan sat at the table and pondered in silence for a long time.
Yan Commandery had already been lost, so it would naturally be difficult to uncover traces of what had happened back then. However, quite a few of the officials who had once served in Yan Commandery were now under his command. If he wanted to investigate thoroughly, it would not be difficult.
But how had a poison that had disappeared from Yan Commandery years ago reappeared in the palace now?
Xue Yan had a vague idea of the answer.
The little eunuch who had served Xue Yunhong had already confessed everything about where the poison had come from.
It had been left to him by the late Concubine Yi. And the medicine Concubine Yi possessed had been given to her years ago by the Daoist priest who entered the palace and became an astrologer, as a means of protecting her life.
As for that Daoist priest’s origins, even the Xu family had not known.
All they knew was that the priest and his master had an uncanny ability to predict events. They claimed to have spent many years living in seclusion at a mountain temple and had only recently entered the secular world.
Great Yong was full of remote mountains and secluded valleys. There was no way to investigate every hermit and Daoist priest living in them.
Thus, the Xu family had not pursued the matter back then, much less conducted a thorough investigation.
Now, Xue Yan had a vague idea of where that Daoist priest had come from.
He pondered for a moment before speaking.
“Go and summon Ji Nan.”
Jinbao, who was standing nearby, promptly acknowledged the order and left.
Ji Nan was a deputy commander of the Yan-Yun Iron Cavalry. Now forty years old, he had begun serving at the Prince of Yan’s side when he was barely in his teens.
During the Battle of Yan-Yun, all the Prince of Yan’s trusted subordinates had perished. Ji Nan alone had survived.
He had also been the one to rescue Xue Yan from the Turks’ encirclement and escort him all the way back into Great Yong’s territory. Afterward, he had safeguarded the surviving troops of the Yan-Yun Iron Cavalry on Xue Yan’s behalf, continuing to do so to this day.
Xue Yan sat silently at the table.
The desk in the imperial study was carved from extremely precious ancient sunken wood, with gold inlaid into its four corners. On the antique display shelf directly opposite him stood ancient jade objects, every single one priceless. From the green jade incense burner inlaid with gold, wisps of dragon’s-blood incense rose into the air.
There were few obvious displays of gold, jewels, or precious stones, yet every corner exuded solemnity, revealing the grave dignity of the highest seat of power in an empire.
Few people could resist such a position.
When Emperor Qingping had fought his brothers for the throne, this was what they had all sought. Now, when Xue Yunhong had taken the desperate step of poisoning Emperor Qingping, the thing he wanted had been no different.
Xue Yan raised his eyes and surveyed his surroundings. All he felt was weariness and irritation.
It was not long before Ji Nan arrived.
Now that Xue Yan had effectively taken control of the imperial city, the Yan-Yun Iron Cavalry could finally step into the open instead of remaining hidden, as they had over the past two years. Xue Yan intended to personally recover Yan Commandery, so he had kept the cavalry stationed in Chang’an, fully armed and ready to depart.
Wearing dark armor, Ji Nan entered the imperial study and knelt before Xue Yan.
“This subordinate pays his respects to Your Highness, Prince Guangling,” he said.
Xue Yan acknowledged him with a quiet hum and told him to rise.
“I have a task for you,” he said.
Ji Nan stood and waited for his instructions.
Xue Yan said, “The poison used on His Majesty is colorless and odorless, and extremely difficult to detect. It can paralyze all four limbs and rob a person of speech, leaving them as good as an invalid.”
He paused and glanced at Ji Nan without revealing his thoughts.
Ji Nan remained where he was, waiting for him to continue.
Looking at him, Xue Yan said slowly, “The physician says the poison came from Yan Commandery. I want you to investigate where it came from and how it got out.”
He fixed his gaze on Ji Nan.
To his surprise, Ji Nan knelt down.
“Your Highness, before the Prince of Yan passed away, he gave this subordinate an instruction,” Ji Nan said. “I have a letter here that he left for you. He said that no matter when it might be, if you ever wished to investigate anything related to Yan Commandery, I was to give this letter to you.”
Ji Nan lowered his head in a formal bow.
“The Prince of Yan said that when that day came, you would find the answers to whatever questions you wished to investigate thoroughly.”
Xue Yan stared at him.
Ji Nan reached into his robes to take out the letter.
Xue Yan spoke.
“Don’t give it to me,” he said.
But Ji Nan did not stop moving.
He took out a letter sealed tightly with wax.
“Put it away,” Xue Yan said, looking at him.
Yet Ji Nan stepped forward and presented the letter to him with both hands.
Xue Yan knew that although Ji Nan obeyed his every command and served as his subordinate, Ji Nan and the entire Yan-Yun Iron Cavalry were legacies the Prince of Yan had left him.
They might have transferred their allegiance from the Prince of Yan to Xue Yan, but the Prince of Yan would always remain their master.
This was the Prince of Yan’s dying command. Ji Nan would never disobey it. Just as he had never told Xue Yan about the letter’s existence all these years, he would now steadfastly place it in Xue Yan’s hands.
Xue Yan knew what the letter contained.
He had grown up in Yan Commandery. He had never had reason to suspect that place or the people who lived there.
If he wanted to investigate it now, it could only be because some fact had been laid before him.
Since the Prince of Yan had prepared an explanation in advance, then the deed in question must have been his.
Xue Yan had always known.
He knew that the Prince of Yan had once been Emperor Qingping’s strongest rival in the struggle for the throne. Had Emperor Qingping not planned one step further ahead, he would not have been the one to lose. Even so, the Prince of Yan had left himself ample room to retreat, ensuring that Emperor Qingping could not execute him as he had his other brothers. After ascending the throne, Emperor Qingping had reluctantly granted him a princely title and sent him to guard the bitterly cold Yan Commandery.
Xue Yan also knew that, back then, rumors had circulated in both Chang’an and Yan Commandery that when Consort Rong had been sent to the capital as a tribute, she had passed through Yan Commandery. One fleeting glimpse of her had been enough to capture the Prince of Yan’s heart. But while he had fallen for her, she had felt nothing for him. Knowing that she bore the mission of two nations on her shoulders, Consort Rong had rejected him decisively.
He also knew that although the Prince of Yan had raised him from childhood, he had been harsher than any ordinary man. People said the prince was strict and careless, and that having neither wife nor concubines, he was simply unskilled at raising a younger person. But everyone had witnessed it: no matter how inexperienced he might have been, he would never have taken a child barely old enough to remember things, thrown him into a military camp to be beaten and battered, and left him to fend for his life as though he were forging a powerful tool.
Xue Yan had always known all of this.
But he also knew that ever since childhood, he had been cursed by the fate of a calamity star. No matter how bitterly cold Yan Commandery was, it had been the only home he had ever known, the only place to which he could return.
Trees had roots, and so did people. Even if his roots had taken hold in a harsh, frozen land, that place was still his destination, his home.
This was precisely why Xue Yan had always been so determined to recover Yan Commandery for Great Yong.
He held the letter in his hand, staring at it with unblinking intensity.
His grip tightened beyond his control, crushing the wax seal until it shattered into fragments.
A moment later, he spoke.
“Get out,” he said.
Madam Jun was naturally furious.
It was true that she had now tacitly accepted the relationship between Xue Yan and Jun Huailang. It was also true that she saw Xue Yan coming to visit every day and had chosen to turn a blind eye.
She knew, too, that young lovers were often inseparable, that embracing one another and whispering intimately were perfectly normal.
What she could not accept was that her own son was the one being held in someone else’s arms and bullied.
She had never once considered that possibility. To stumble upon it so suddenly, only to discover Xue Yan taking liberties with her son right before her eyes—
It was simply outrageous!
Madam Jun showed no mercy in throwing Xue Yan out. Then she gave her own son a thorough scolding as well.
Jun Huailang accepted his mother’s reprimands with remarkable good humor. When her anger had mostly subsided, he smiled and poured her a cup of tea.
“Not letting Xue Yan through the gate isn’t a solution either,” he said. “How could these courtyard gates and walls possibly keep him out?”
Madam Jun gritted her teeth. “He still dares to come in?”
Jun Huailang nodded earnestly.
“Then I’ll have the servants beat him back out with sticks!” she declared.
Jun Huailang could not help laughing.
He knew Xue Yan well enough to be certain that it would not be long before the man could no longer resist climbing over the wall.
Madam Jun was still angry with Xue Yan. Almost out of spite, she deliberately stayed with Jun Huailang rather than leaving.
But Xue Yan did not come.
“Perhaps something has delayed him,” Jun Huailang said.
Madam Jun shot him a glance. “You certainly know him well.”
Despite saying that, she still did not leave.
Mother and son sat together for a long time, until the light of dusk began to fade and a servant came to remind them that dinner was ready.
“I’m beginning to think the walls around this residence really can keep him out,” Madam Jun remarked.
Jun Huailang frowned slightly but said nothing.
When Madam Jun saw that he was not answering, she turned to look at him. There was not the slightest trace of a smile on his face, and his brows were drawn together.
“What is it?” she asked, assuming that Jun Huailang was unhappy because Xue Yan had not come.
But Jun Huailang shook his head.
“…I feel that something is wrong,” he said.
Madam Jun was puzzled. “He must have something to attend to. What could possibly be wrong?”
Jun Huailang shook his head again and rose to his feet.
“Mother, please go ahead and have dinner,” he said. “I’m going to take a look.”
He had a persistent feeling that something unpleasant had happened.
For him, it was nothing more than a baseless suspicion. Yet, for no apparent reason, a sense of unease had crept into Jun Huailang’s heart, and he could not put his mind at rest.
He thought that even if nothing had happened, he still wanted to go and see for himself.
Madam Jun hurriedly stood up.
“You’re going to check?” she asked. “Where?”
Jun Huailang paused.
“To the palace,” he said.