The heavy rain that had fallen over Chang’an for an entire day had still failed to wash away the blood covering the ground outside Xuanwu Gate.
Even after nightfall, when the lights in the Palace of Benevolent Tranquility were gradually lit, the rain outside the windows had yet to stop.
Amid the overwhelming roar of the rain, the cold wind made the window paper flap and rustle.
The Palace of Benevolent Tranquility was deathly silent. The palace maids and eunuchs attending to their duties came and went, but not one dared make the slightest sound.
Everyone knew that the Empress Dowager had sat by the window all day with an expressionless face, without uttering a single word.
The palace staff had vaguely heard that something major had happened at court that day.
However, the current regent, Prince Qin, had an extremely violent and unpredictable temperament. Anyone who dared casually discuss the matter, even in a single sentence, would risk having the words reach Prince Qin’s ears. If that happened, every palace maid and eunuch in the entire palace where the offender worked would lose their heads.
Since Prince Qin had taken power, servants from several palaces had already been executed.
Thus, both the court and the inner palace were gripped by a fearful silence. Even those who had caught wind of the rumors did not dare discuss them in the slightest.
Just then, a series of rapid footsteps approached from a distance, pattering all the way up the steps and into the Palace of Benevolent Tranquility.
The surrounding palace staff glanced cautiously in that direction and saw that the person who had arrived was the Empress Dowager’s personal maid.
At the sound of the footsteps, the Empress Dowager sitting by the window turned around.
Her head was adorned with gold and jade ornaments and strings of pearls. Her richly embroidered robes trailed across the floor, with a phoenix spreading its wings embroidered in gold thread. She looked dignified and imposing.
Yet beneath those glittering ornaments, her face appeared to belong to a girl of no more than fifteen or sixteen. Though her features were striking and youthful, her cheeks still retained some of their childlike roundness.
She was Jun Linghuan.
Her eyes were red-rimmed, and bloodshot veins showed in their depths, but there were no traces of tears on her face.
She stared steadily at the maid.
The maid knelt before her.
“…Your Majesty.” She bowed her head, her voice choked with tears. “This servant knelt outside Prince Qin’s residence for the entire day. Just now, Prince Qin finally sent someone to deliver a message to you, saying…”
Jun Linghuan watched her silently.
The maid choked back a sob before continuing. “He said that Your Majesty should stop wasting your efforts. His Majesty has not been doing well with his lessons these past two days, and Your Majesty still needs to supervise him more closely…”
In other words, he simply could not be bothered to concern himself with whether the entire Jun family lived or died.
The Palace of Benevolent Tranquility fell into complete silence.
Suddenly, there came a sharp crash.
Jun Linghuan’s sleeve had knocked a teacup to the floor.
The maid hurriedly raised her head. She saw Jun Linghuan’s eyes redden as she gathered up the layers of her skirt and rushed out, stepping over the tea stains and shattered porcelain.
A thick smell of blood hung in the air before Jiaotai Hall.
The eunuchs standing guard outside kept their heads lowered, not daring to move. They resembled a row of lifeless objects.
Standing at the entrance was a young eunuch with a pale, beardless face and delicate features. He held himself with his shoulders slightly hunched, a horsetail whisk draped over his arm.
His expression was blank, his eyes cool and calm. He turned his head slightly and glanced into Jiaotai Hall.
From the doorway, only the lower half of the person lying on the floor was visible. He wore an indigo official robe and black brocade boots, and was currently sprawled facedown across the hall.
Crimson blood was slowly spreading out from beneath his body, soaking into his robes and the carpet and leaving a broad patch of dark red behind.
The man had been summoned there only that morning. He was a vice minister in the Ministry of Revenue. Apparently, there had been some discrepancies in the ministry’s grain accounts, and when Prince Qin questioned him about them, the man had talked back.
Prince Qin had merely hummed in acknowledgment. The next moment, his sword had left its sheath.
The eunuch glanced at the scene without changing his expression, then withdrew his gaze and silently approached the doorway.
“Wait until His Highness leaves before cleaning up,” he instructed the young eunuch at the entrance in a lowered voice. “The carpet must be replaced completely. Not a single trace can be left behind.”
The young eunuch answered in an extremely quiet voice, then asked, “But, Eunuch Jinbao, are we really going to leave the corpse lying there like this?”
The eunuch glanced at him indifferently.
“Is your head sitting too heavily on your shoulders?” he asked.
The young eunuch understood at once and hurriedly shut his mouth.
The eunuch withdrew his gaze, holding his horsetail whisk as he walked silently and steadily to his post outside Jiaotai Hall.
The sky had grown completely dark. Because the rain was still falling, it seemed to be tinged with a heavy, oppressive red.
Lamps had been lit inside Jiaotai Hall, and golden palace lanterns hung beneath the eaves. Their warm glow fell upon the white marble steps, yet they offered not the slightest warmth.
Rain poured down in torrents, and the wet ground reflected the solemn, imposing palace halls and towers.
Just then, the faint sound of footsteps emerged from the roar of the rain.
Jinbao raised his head slightly, narrowing his eyes as he discreetly looked in that direction.
Through the murky curtain of rain, a bright golden figure appeared, running toward them with the wide hem of her skirt trailing behind her.
A trace of surprise crossed Jinbao’s face.
Was that… the Empress Dowager?
Having served at Xue Yan’s side for years, Jinbao naturally knew that today was the day this young lady’s elder brother had been beheaded.
Since Prince Qin had entered the palace, how many members of the nobility had died each day? The people of the capital had grown accustomed to it, and the palace servants had grown accustomed to it as well.
Some of the imperial consorts and concubines had suffered misfortune in their own families, too. Yet the entire inner palace remained silent, daring not to speak a word. Even the boldest among them had done no more than petition Prince Qin for permission to shave her head and spend the rest of her life in Buddhist seclusion.
After all, even the Emperor had died by Prince Qin’s sword. The people of the capital had long since become numb from fear and cowardice.
This young lady must have been unable to endure such a grievance and come to demand an explanation from Prince Qin.
But the person was already dead. What use was demanding an explanation now? Moreover, Prince Qin would not give her one. He would only kill another person and leave Jinbao to dispose of another corpse.
Prince Qin had not been like this a few months ago.
Jinbao had followed him for several years. Although he knew Xue Yan to be violent, domineering, and coldhearted, he had never been quite as bloodthirsty and indiscriminately murderous as he was now.
But several months earlier, after Prince Qin had gone north to recover Yan Commandery, he had privately spoken with a captain of the Yan Yun cavalry on the night of the victory celebration. After that, he had changed completely.
A sinister red had begun to creep into his amber eyes, making them seem less than human, more like those of some enraged beast.
He had begun killing people without restraint.
Jinbao could vaguely tell that Xue Yan found no pleasure or amusement in the slaughter.
For from that very day onward, the eyes that had already held so little life became even more lifeless and dim.
It was as though the last tiny flame on a dying lamp had suddenly gone out.
Jinbao did not dare provoke him. Neither did anyone else around him.
The golden figure drew closer.
A flash of lightning illuminated the sky, and Jinbao saw the young Empress Dowager clearly.
Her robes were completely soaked, her hair disheveled, and the ornaments on her head were on the verge of falling off. Rainwater and mud had stained the hem of her skirt, and her face was streaked with water.
Her beautiful almond-shaped eyes, like those of a deer, were filled with hatred and a determination to face death without flinching.
Jinbao shifted his feet and stepped in front of the entrance to Jiaotai Hall.
Although he had seen so much that he had grown numb to it, a trace of pity nevertheless rose in his heart. He did not want this young Empress Dowager to die at Xue Yan’s hands today as well.
Jun Linghuan’s skirt was drenched by the downpour. The thick, finely woven silk had become terribly heavy in the rain, making every step she took up the stairs a struggle.
She ran all the way to the entrance of Jiaotai Hall.
“Your Majesty.” Jinbao lowered his eyes and bowed to her, his expression calm. “Please wait a moment. His Highness is occupied. This servant will go inside and inform him.”
“Move aside.” Jun Linghuan’s voice was hoarse, trembling with the cold after being drenched by the rain.
Jinbao remained where he was.
Jun Linghuan held up her skirt with one hand and simply used the other to shove Jinbao out of her way.
Her trailing skirt left a streak of water behind her as she ran straight into the hall.
Jinbao turned and glanced after her, his eyes full of pity.
When Jun Linghuan rushed into Jiaotai Hall, Xue Yan was sitting on a couch beside the window.
The window stood wide open. Cold wind carrying fine droplets of rain blew through the hall, gently billowing the gauze curtains and brocade drapes.
Xue Yan sat there with the cold wind howling behind him, blowing up his black robes trimmed with gold and his thick, dark hair. One foot rested on the couch, and he sat in a carefree, almost insolent posture, his elbow propped on his knee as he held a book in his hand.
When Jun Linghuan entered, he acted as though he had not heard her footsteps. Without even raising his eyes, he turned a page.
Jun Linghuan rushed up to him.
Xue Yan lazily lifted his eyes to look at her.
His beautiful, pale amber irises were tinged with a faint red, making his gaze appear sinister and menacing.
Yet the instant he looked up, a slap landed across his face, turning his head slightly to the side.
Xue Yan did not move.
The slap had not been particularly forceful, but the young girl standing before him, who was barely in her teens, had put all her strength into it.
A burning pain spread across Xue Yan’s cheek. Yet he seemed unable to feel it. He merely raised his eyes and looked quietly at Jun Linghuan.
“Weren’t you going to exterminate nine generations of the Jun family? I’m a daughter of the Jun family. You missed one.” Jun Linghuan stood before him, her fist clenched tightly inside her sleeve.
She was afraid. No one could stand before this tyrant without fear.
But she wanted to die.
Even if she could land one hard slap on him before she died, she would consider it worthwhile.
Xue Yan’s gaze remained calm.
He looked at the girl before him, accepting the hatred in her eyes with complete indifference.
He was already numb to it. Since childhood, he had received hatred, disgust, and fear from countless people. He could no longer count them all.
Yet, vaguely, he recalled how this Empress Dowager, now standing before him, had looked at him many years ago, when she was still a little girl.
It had been the first night after he moved into Mingluan Palace. She had secretly crept into his room.
Her gaze had been pure and gentle, carrying a kind of liveliness that Xue Yan had not dared to meet directly.
Back then, she had pressed her little hand warmer into his hands and said solemnly, “My older brother taught me that when you see someone who needs help, you mustn’t turn a blind eye.”
Her older brother?
Among the noble families he had ordered killed today, there had apparently been one who was her older brother.
Xue Yan quietly withdrew his gaze.
“Someone come,” he said. “Escort the Empress Dowager back to her palace.”
He had never needed anyone’s pity.
But for the sake of that hand warmer, he would spare her life.
That did not mean he had any interest in indulging her over such a trivial matter.
A squad of guards entered the hall.
“I’m telling you to kill me, Xue Yan!” Jun Linghuan stared fixedly at him. “You’d better kill me. Otherwise, one day, you’ll regret it!”
Xue Yan was beginning to feel irritated.
Because he could see not only the hatred she held for him, but also the deep attachment she felt toward her older brother.
Xue Yan had never possessed this kind of bond between people. Or rather, he once had, although his bond had been far more distant and cold than other people’s. Still, it had existed.
But in the end, that person had been using him, too.
From the moment he had been born, he had been nothing more than a calamity star or a tool. The most ordinary emotions and bonds, things everyone else took for granted, were luxuries he had never been allowed to experience.
He had grown numb to it all, but that did not mean he could not feel jealousy.
“We’ll see.”
He withdrew his gaze and impatiently raised a hand, signaling the guards to drag Jun Linghuan away.
Jiaotai Hall returned to silence. Only the dragon’s-saliva incense burning in the censer and the uncollected corpse on the floor nearby remained, silently mingling to create the uniquely brutal atmosphere of power and slaughter.
Xue Yan was growing irritated.
Since childhood, he had obeyed Prince Yan. After Prince Yan’s death, his sole purpose in life had been to recover Yan territory and avenge Prince Yan.
He had maneuvered carefully through the palace, step by step. The fear and hatred of those around him had been like thorny brambles growing everywhere. He had made his way through them without fearing the pain, because he could still glimpse a tiny bit of light at the end, a faint reason to keep living.
But later, he learned that Prince Yan had been using him, too.
The world had become completely dark to him, leaving not a single glimmer of light.
And, strangely enough, the person abandoned and isolated by everyone had subsequently climbed to the pinnacle of power and become the one who controlled the entire dynasty.
He began to destroy things.
To him, the world was nothing but a cold, desolate void. The only way he could still feel that he was alive was through destruction and slaughter.
Yet even that was boring.
Xue Yan read two lines, frowned, and loosened his grip, tossing the book directly onto the floor.
He raised his head and looked out the window.
In the cold wind, a deep red canopy stretched across the sky as countless icy raindrops plunged toward the earth. The layers of palace halls and towers occasionally reflected a faint, cold golden light through the murky rain.
The world was dark and gloomy, just like every silent, cold, and empty day and night he had ever lived through.
Xue Yan’s eyes were shrouded in lifeless gloom.
He did not want to admit that he had spared Jun Linghuan’s life not because of some wretched hand warmer, but because, back then, when she had spoken of her older brother, there had been a pure dependence and warmth shining in her eyes.
He had wanted to hold on to that fleeting light.
But now, that light was gone from Jun Linghuan’s eyes as well.
Xue Yan withdrew his gaze.
He told himself that it was impossible.
Such pure light could not exist in this world. Nor could there possibly be anyone who could bring such light into it.