“I am not the empress.”
That was the last thing Jiang Huaichu said.
…
Xie Zhe led Xie Caiqing into the prison. After ordering the guards to lock the door, he hesitated for a long time, wanting to speak but saying nothing.
He hadn’t expected Xie Caiqing to cooperate so completely—didn’t cause the slightest trouble. He was so calm it didn’t seem human, certainly not like someone in love.
He didn’t emotionally accuse the emperor of cruelty. He didn’t try to defend himself or plead for forgiveness. Nothing. Only a mist-like, unreadable calm that sent chills down one’s spine.
Xie Caiqing’s cell had no rats or bugs. It was relatively clean, but still pitch dark. It was late at night. Not a shred of light came through the high window in the tall wall.
Only endless darkness.
He sat straight on the thin bedding, back erect, hands folded in front of him, without a trace of loss or panic. He had the refined appearance of a gentle and cultured man, but there was also a deadly, chilling beauty—sharp and angular. Two completely opposite auras clashed within him, violent and contradictory, yet shockingly powerful—one glimpse of which could make people realize what lurked beneath the surface.
Whether prisoner in chains or favored on the imperial bed—it seemed to make no difference to him.
This was the second time he had seen such poise and composure far beyond one’s age. An unshakable calm born of deep insight, accepting fate with fearlessness and equanimity.
The last one was an emperor.
This one is only eighteen, so young.
A chill crept in amidst the reverence and awe.
This was the person who had lain beside Xiao Yun for a full month.
Anyone looking at that calm, emotionless face would question whether, through all those days and nights, he ever held a shred of genuine feeling.
Had the emperor been so bewitched by him that he doted on him like reaching for the stars and moon, while he secretly thought of slitting his throat—or was he longing for another man in the dark?
In the end, the man simply sighed, said nothing, and turned to leave with the Changling guards.
There was no one left in front of the prison. Jiang Huaichu furrowed his brows deeply, his face pale, bending forward slightly, as if curling up this much could offer some comfort.
The pain in his abdomen was fine and persistent, not sharp but increasingly impossible to ignore.
Jiang Huaichu watched Xie Zhe’s retreating figure with a cold expression.
He habitually prepared for the worst, having never harbored even a sliver of hope for Xiao Yun. He reminded himself repeatedly of Xiao Yun’s true nature—how cold, ruthless, and remorseless he was. He had never allowed himself to be swayed or to give what shouldn’t be given. So, now that he was really here, in this place, he felt not the slightest trace of sorrow.
This was merely one of the many endings he had already foreseen.
When he came to Great Ning, he had already prepared himself never to return.
He had done his best. He could live his life with no regrets. At least up to this moment, in these eighteen years of his life, there wasn’t a single thing that filled him with remorse or guilt.
Jiang Huaichu took a deep breath.
The only ones he felt he owed were those who had been dragged into this because of him.
Xiao Yun wanted to kill only him, because he was a spy from Nanruo who had deceived him.
His royal brother wouldn’t be taken down so easily. Great Ning’s capital was full of people from Miluo Manor. His brother and his own trusted aides were spread throughout the city. Getting his brother out safely wouldn’t be an issue. If it came to a real armed conflict, this bustling metropolis would suffer, and the true casualties would be the people of Great Ning.
That wasn’t something Xiao Yun would want to see—or at least not openly.
Out of respect for the old ancestor, Xiao Yun wouldn’t go so far as to take his brother’s life. After all, Nanruo was just a weak country and posed no real threat to Great Ning. If Xiao Yun truly wanted to destroy it, he’d do it openly with troops, not through cowardly underhanded means. If the Nanruo monarch were to meet an untimely end within Great Ning’s borders, public outrage would follow, Xiao Yun’s reputation would be ruined, and the whole world would condemn him.
It wasn’t a deal worth making—Xiao Yun couldn’t possibly be unaware of that.
The most likely outcome was to detain his brother and those with him, stop them from interfering, execute Jiang Huaichu first and explain later, and then exile his brother from the country.
The only fear was collateral damage.
In his mind, he saw the image of Taifei struggling as she was restrained. Jiang Huaichu drew in a deep breath, his hand clenched tightly on his thigh, fingers pale from the pressure.
He could have begged Xie Zhe—but he didn’t.
People’s hearts are hidden behind flesh. Xie Zhe was Xiao Yun’s man—why would he help Jiang Huaichu, putting himself at risk for no benefit? In this world, aside from family, no one would risk everything for someone without considering gain or loss.
The more he showed he cared, the more likely he’d become a bargaining chip for Xiao Yun.
Concern could easily become harm.
He had interrogated countless prisoners. Only by being an impenetrable wall could one avoid having their weak points seized and exploited until utterly broken.
That word from Xie Zhe—empress—felt like mockery.
That promise—thankfully, he had never believed it.
He only hoped his brother wouldn’t send anyone to rescue him. His biggest fear was that his brother would act on emotion and try to storm the prison instead of leaving Great Ning.
Clenching his fists, pressing his lips together, Jiang Huaichu knew worrying now was useless. He was alone. He looked around at his surroundings.
He wasn’t unfamiliar with places like this. Back when he was still Xie Caiqing, he had stepped into dark dungeons like this countless times, watching without expression as prisoners were tortured for the sake of Nanruo.
What would Xiao Yun do to him?
In the end, it seemed like there was nothing more. Indeed, life’s lowest points could only be endured in silence, alone.
It wasn’t his first time.
He wouldn’t lose to Xiao Yun. If Xiao Yun wanted to break him, wanted him to lose his mind and beg for mercy—then he’d have to wait for the next life.
Jiang Huaichu let out a laugh, then his face suddenly went white. A wave of nausea surged up from his stomach to his throat. The next second, unable to hold it back, he clutched his throat, hunched over, and dry heaved onto the rough, uneven ground.
A different kind of torment—it felt like his heart was burning.
The nausea slowly subsided. His lips pressed into a line, but Jiang Huaichu stayed in that posture, frozen.
After a long while, his trembling hand moved, and two pale fingers reached for his own pulse.
The pulse was like rolling beads—smooth and round as it passed under his fingers.
A slippery pulse.
Jiang Huaichu’s face turned deathly pale. He switched to the other hand—the same pulse.
The calmness in his heart was shattered, ripples spreading wildly. In his eighteen years, Jiang Huaichu had never felt this flustered. His heart pounded furiously, his composed face now full of panic and confusion.
Impossible.
Xiao Yun took medicine. The effects lasted two months, and he took it once a month—there couldn’t have been a single day missed.
Was he having a false pregnancy?
Some women, after marrying, spent years unable to conceive, and due to strong desire, pressure, and long-term stress, experienced false pregnancies.
Symptoms included nausea and vomiting.
…But a false pregnancy wouldn’t produce a detectable pulse.
Was he truly pregnant?
His mind went blank. Jiang Huaichu began to tremble all over.
The fine, lingering pain in his abdomen now felt sharp and undeniable.
His face pale as paper, hand stiff, he touched his abdomen.
Exactly that spot.
Whose is it?
It’s not Xiao Yun’s.
Could it be that one of those nights, in the darkness, it hadn’t been Xiao Yun who came in?
Jiang Huaichu’s face turned ghostly white.
No, impossible… Every moment of these past days, Xiao Yun had people watching him in secret. That was Xiao Yun’s residence, filled with Xiao Yun’s shadow guards—no one else could have gotten in.
And if someone from his side had slipped in, he would’ve known.
Moreover, Xiao Yun liked to talk things through when handling matters—he would explain everything from beginning to end. If it had been someone else, Jiang Huaichu would have noticed the difference.
It wasn’t Xiao Yun’s. It wasn’t anyone else’s.
He was a descendant of the mermen, hermaphroditic by nature. Could it be his own?
In his eighteen years of life, Jiang Huaichu had never felt such panic and fear. He teetered on the edge. He had once been indifferent, prepared to die without regrets—yet now, this inexplicable tiny life had, in the blink of an eye, shattered the ironclad defenses he thought unbreakable. He slowly curled up on the not-quite-filthy-but-not-clean pallet, hugged his knees, and buried his face in his legs. He stayed motionless for a long time, like a little white rabbit hiding in a corner, quietly digesting his grievance all alone.
As soon as Xiao Yun entered the prison, he saw this scene from afar. The overwhelming fury on his face faltered, and his heart suddenly ached. He turned and glared fiercely at Xie Zhe.
Xie Zhe was startled.
He didn’t know what was going on either. When Xiao Yun had asked him earlier about Xie Caiqing’s attitude, he could only tell the truth. That was what had provoked Xiao Yun into a rage.
Now they were already in the prison—there was no way Xie Caiqing could have people stationed here, nor could he have known Xiao Yun was coming to stage some act to gain sympathy and leniency.
Could it be that behind his cold, unyielding exterior, he was in fact soft and fragile when alone? Just like Jiang Huaiyi.
Xiao Yun completely stopped in his tracks, standing still for a long while. His figure looked like a statue, as if two invisible forces were pulling him apart, trying to split him in half. And yet, he still looked like the same playful and authoritative emperor, who regarded everything with detached amusement.
Always watching from across the river, always above everyone else, always manipulating people in the palm of his hand.
Forever the victor.
Xie Zhe looked at him, silently questioning with his eyes.
Xiao Yun flicked his sleeve and turned to leave quietly, as if he had never been there.
Xie Zhe glanced at the only cell that held a prisoner, his heart tangled with mixed emotions, then turned and followed.
After a long while, Jiang Huaichu suddenly lifted his head, his eyes slightly red.
It was Xiao Yun’s.
If he could conceive on his own, he would have long ago.
Xiao Yun had learned medicine from his ancestor, the old master of the famous Miluo Manor, known as the Divine Healer throughout the land.
That old master was a great charlatan—otherwise, how would he have been tricked into coming here?
That ancestor was an early founder of the Great Ning Empire. He would never wish for the empire to have no heir. So the contraceptive medicine he gave Xiao Yun must have been fake.
That man had lived nearly a hundred years and studied medicine for over fifty. Fooling Xiao Yun, who hadn’t even studied medicine half as long, was no difficult task.
Those were not contraceptives.
