The imperial palace was naturally not easy to enter, especially after nightfall.
But such rules did not apply to Jun Huailang.
At present, the gates of the imperial city were guarded not only by the Imperial Guards, but also by the Embroidered Uniform Guards under Xue Yan’s command. After Jun Huailang passed through Xuanwu Gate, he found that the captain of the Embroidered Uniform Guards stationed there happened to be one of the men who had accompanied them to Jiangnan.
When the captain saw the carriage bearing the insignia of the Duke of Yongning’s residence, he hurried forward.
Jun Huailang lifted the carriage curtain and stepped down.
The captain’s eyes lit up as soon as he recognized Jun Huailang. He hurriedly bowed and saluted him.
“This subordinate pays his respects to Your Highness, Heir of the Duke of Yongning!” he said.
The Embroidered Uniform Guards and Imperial Guards behind him promptly followed suit.
Jun Huailang nodded and asked, “What time did the Prince of Guangling leave the palace today?”
Hearing this, the captain shook his head. “His Highness may have had some important business to attend to in the palace today. He still hasn’t left.”
This confirmed Jun Huailang’s concerns.
Jun Huailang nodded. “I’d like to enter the palace. Please inform them for me.”
The Imperial Guard standing to the side immediately looked troubled.
The palace had always been heavily guarded, and its curfew began especially early. It was already dark now, and according to palace regulations, even urgent reports from outside could only be passed through a designated gap in the palace gate, let alone an ordinary person.
The heir standing before them held no official position whatsoever. He had not even explained why he wanted to enter the palace. How could they possibly let him in?
“Your Highness, perhaps you should wait until tomorrow…” the Imperial Guard beside them began.
The captain of the Embroidered Uniform Guards shot him a glance, cutting him off.
Turning back, he bowed to Jun Huailang with a smile. “Your Highness, there’s no need to report your arrival. I’ll send two men to escort you inside and find out where His Highness the Prince is at the moment.”
Jun Huailang nodded and thanked him.
The captain immediately stepped aside and dispatched two Embroidered Uniform Guards, instructing them to find out where the Prince of Guangling was and escort the heir there safely.
The guards promptly acknowledged the order and led Jun Huailang into the palace.
Once they had gone some distance, the Imperial Guard hurried forward.
“Why did you just let him in like that?” he asked. “We don’t even know what he wants with His Highness the Prince! If he angers the prince, we won’t be able to answer for it!”
The captain of the Embroidered Uniform Guards glanced at him.
“Anger the prince?” He patted the man on the shoulder and said earnestly, “He certainly won’t. But you, if you hadn’t promptly invited him inside today, you’d be the one to anger His Highness tomorrow.”
——
The Imperial Study was brightly lit and utterly silent.
Jinbao was pacing anxiously outside.
After the prince had summoned a general from the Yan Yun Cavalry earlier, his mood had seemed rather off. Then he had carried two jars of wine into the Imperial Study alone, locked the door, and refused to let anyone enter.
Jinbao was frantic.
When had his prince ever voluntarily drunk alcohol? With his pitiful tolerance for liquor, he normally wouldn’t even drink two cups, no matter how much face he had to give someone.
Something serious must have happened.
In his anxiety, Jinbao had wanted nothing more than to seek out Jun Huailang. But before his master entered the study, he had passed by Jinbao and deliberately stopped to issue a warning.
“If you dare utter even half a word about this, I’ll take your head,” he had said.
Jinbao naturally didn’t dare move after that. All he could do was pace anxiously outside the door.
Just then, he saw a figure approaching under the escort of the Embroidered Uniform Guards.
Who could it be at this hour of the night?
Jinbao looked up—and saw that it was Jun Huailang.
He was so moved that tears nearly sprang to his eyes.
A living Bodhisattva! What did it mean to be a living Bodhisattva? Someone who could even hear his prayers and come to deliver him in the middle of the night. If that wasn’t a living Bodhisattva, what was?
Jinbao was overwhelmed with gratitude. He almost wanted to kneel before Jun Huailang.
Jun Huailang had just reached the steps leading to the Imperial Study when Jinbao came running down the tall staircase and stopped in front of him.
“Your Highness, the heir! You’ve finally come!” Jinbao exclaimed.
Jun Huailang hurriedly asked, “What happened?”
Jinbao looked troubled.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell him. It was just that his master had already made it clear that anyone who dared reveal anything would lose their life.
Jinbao wasn’t ready to die yet. For the time being, he had no intention of handing his life over to the prince.
Besides, even if he said nothing, Jun Huailang was standing right outside the Imperial Study. What could he possibly fail to discover once he went inside?
Jinbao put on an appropriately troubled expression.
“Your Highness, this servant doesn’t dare say,” he replied. “You’d better go in and see for yourself.”
He had said all he could. What else was there for Jun Huailang not to understand?
Jun Huailang furrowed his brows and nodded before hurrying up the stone steps to the Imperial Study.
Behind him, Jinbao watched with an expression of relief.
When Jun Huailang pushed open the doors of the Imperial Study, he was greeted by the rich aroma of wine, mingled with the faintest trace of sandalwood incense.
He passed through layer upon layer of gauze curtains and folding screens until he reached the imperial desk where Xue Yan usually handled state affairs. But the desk was completely empty. No one was there.
Jun Huailang turned around, about to search elsewhere, when he heard an extremely faint clink.
The sound of a wine jar knocking against the floor.
Jun Huailang immediately turned toward it.
There, in the corner of the Imperial Study, sat Xue Yan.
His robes were somewhat disheveled, and a few strands of hair had fallen loose, hanging over his temples and along the sides of his face.
He sat on the floor, one long leg stretched out and the other bent. One arm rested on his knee, and he still held a jar of wine in his hand.
An empty wine jar lay beside him, toppled on its side. At the slightest touch, it rolled in circles toward the other side.
Xue Yan lifted his eyes.
His amber eyes held not the slightest trace of emotion. They were cold and fierce.
“Didn’t I say no one was to come in?” His voice was hoarse from drinking, and his amber eyes glinted with a dangerous, savage bloodlust.
But Jun Huailang saw that those eyes were also clouded with moisture.
He walked over and crouched down in front of Xue Yan.
“It’s me,” he said softly, reaching out to take the wine jar from Xue Yan’s hand.
But Xue Yan gripped it tightly, his fingers clamped around it so firmly that it did not move at all.
Xue Yan stared fixedly at him, his eyes unfocused.
Jun Huailang simply waited patiently in front of him.
After a while, Xue Yan seemed finally to recognize the person before him as Jun Huailang.
“…Huailang.” His voice was hoarse as he spoke.
In an instant, the moisture clouding his eyes gathered rapidly, becoming tears that he held back with all his strength, refusing to let them fall.
It was as though he had wandered alone through the darkness for far too long and had finally found a glimmer of light. The pain that had gone numb within him during the cold night was at last slowly awakening.
Jun Huailang set the wine jar aside and raised a hand to cup Xue Yan’s cheek.
“It’s me,” he said. “What happened?”
Xue Yan clenched his teeth and said nothing.
Jun Huailang placed a hand on his broad shoulder and drew him toward his embrace.
Following his movement, Xue Yan obediently leaned forward, resting his chin on Jun Huailang’s shoulder.
Jun Huailang felt warm droplets fall against his neck.
He raised his arms and held Xue Yan tightly.
Jun Huailang asked no further questions. He simply knelt on one knee on the floor of the Imperial Study, holding Xue Yan and slowly stroking his back.
Xue Yan rested his chin on Jun Huailang’s shoulder, his tears falling in silence.
For a time, the only sounds in the room were the wisps of sandalwood incense curling into the air and Xue Yan’s suppressed, trembling breaths, hidden within its fragrance.
After a long while, Xue Yan finally spoke.
“Since he’s been using me all these years, he might as well have deceived me for the rest of my life,” he said.
“Why didn’t he dare tell me while he was still alive? Then I wouldn’t have needed to wait for the Turkic soldiers. I would have killed him with my own hands.”
There was no trace of a sob in his voice. His tone was vicious, steeped in deep hatred.
But Jun Huailang heard the grievance concealed beneath that hatred, like an abandoned dog that had lost its home.
He slowly stroked Xue Yan’s shoulder, just as he had once comforted Linghuan after a nightmare.
Looking over Xue Yan’s shoulder, he saw a crumpled letter discarded in the corner of the Imperial Study.
Jun Huailang did not know that the letter had been left to Xue Yan by Prince Yan.
In it, Prince Yan had told Xue Yan that the Taoist priest who had declared Xue Yan a calamity star from the moment of his birth had acted on his instructions all along.
Back when Prince Yan and Emperor Qingping had both been princes, Prince Yan had been the emperor’s elder brother. He had wielded considerable influence at court, with far more powerful supporters than Emperor Qingping.
He had never taken the then-Prince Qingping seriously.
However, one of his retainers at the time had been skilled in interpreting celestial phenomena. This retainer told him that the Ziwei star was shifting from its position and would fall under someone else’s influence.
Prince Yan had never believed in fate, so he paid the prediction no mind. That was, until the late emperor died suddenly and the court descended into chaos. Amid the turmoil, Prince Yan had lost by half a move, allowing Emperor Qingping to seize the throne.
Only then did Prince Yan learn just how accurately the celestial signs had foretold what would happen.
Afterward, the retainer performed another astrological reading for him.
The man said that although the Ziwei star had fallen into another’s hands, namely Emperor Qingping’s, the emperor lacked the virtue to match his position and was destined to face a tribulation. Yet this tribulation could be brought about by human hands. Whether it would bring fortune or disaster depended on how things were handled.
Years later, when the Seven Killings star descended into the world, if it remained by the Ziwei star’s side, the two could complement and strengthen each other. But if the Ziwei star drove it away, then years later, the world would descend into chaos, the Ziwei star would fall, and the calamity star would take its place.
That calamity star was naturally Xue Yan.
Thus, Prince Yan dispatched two subordinates, erasing all traces of their previous lives before sending them to Chang’an. There, they were to find a way into the influential Xu family.
As Prince Yan had instructed, they would use the Xu family’s recommendation to enter the Imperial Astronomical Bureau. After gaining Emperor Qingping’s trust, they would wait for the Seven Killings star to descend, then report fabricated celestial phenomena to the emperor, driving the calamity star away from the Ziwei star.
When that happened, the Ziwei star’s tribulation would arrive. Prince Yan did not want to wait any longer, so he prepared a poison for those two subordinates, intending for them to administer it to Emperor Qingping at the opportune moment.
Everything proceeded according to Prince Yan’s plan, except that the poison he had prepared for Emperor Qingping was secretly given by one of his subordinates to Consort Yi, who was still the eldest daughter of the Xu family at the time.
The poison was never administered. Prince Yan became utterly convinced that only Xue Yan could bring about Emperor Qingping’s tribulation.
That was why he had schemed to make Emperor Qingping drive Xue Yan to his side. Prince Yan himself then raised Xue Yan with his own hands, forging him into a sword that could kill with a single drop of blood. Only two years ago had he finally found an opportunity to send Xue Yan back to Chang’an.
The battle at Yan Yun back then had been perilous beyond measure. Even Prince Yan himself might not have been able to protect his own life in that battle.
Yet he had insisted on saving Xue Yan at the final moment, ordering his subordinates to risk their lives to send Xue Yan back to Chang’an. He had told Xue Yan that no matter what happened, he must preserve his life and one day reclaim Yan Commandery from the hands of the Turkic people.
But in truth, Prince Yan did not care about Yan Commandery at all. To him, Yan Commandery was bitterly cold, a prison, and the humiliation of his entire life.
What he truly wanted was for Xue Yan to survive until the day the Ziwei star fell and the calamity star took its place.
From beginning to end, all he had ever wanted was that imperial throne. Even if fate had decreed that he would never sit upon it in his lifetime, he was determined to make the person he had trained and groomed seize it for him.
Prince Yan had never feared Xue Yan discovering the truth, either. That was why he had calmly left the letter behind, waiting for Xue Yan to accomplish what he had been made to do and then realize something was amiss. Only then would he reveal everything to Xue Yan, in full and without omission.
Prince Yan had always been rational, meticulous, and ruthless.
But Jun Huailang knew none of this. All he saw was the letter lying silently in the corner, crumpled into a ball by someone’s hand, so badly wrinkled that it was almost torn to shreds.
He did not even know who the “he” in Xue Yan’s words referred to.
Yet he held the tall, broad-shouldered Xue Yan in his arms, stroking his back, his cheek pressed close to Xue Yan’s ear as he spoke in a gentle, clear voice.
“It was his fault,” he said.