This sentence struck Xiao Yun’s greatest sore spot. The mighty Emperor of Great Ning, who was usually unstoppable like a thunderstorm, for the first time, dropped his pride. His glowing excitement dimmed into defeat; the wild momentum that usually swept others off their feet vanished. He looked like a pathetic man who just watched his beloved wife marry someone else. Every twisted expression he could make in his life was now on full display. After a long, long silence, he finally burst out in furious despair: “How can this be?!”
“No, no, no! How could that little b*stard not want to be with me?! How dare he?! How can he not let the child recognize me?! I’m the emperor of Great Ning! I’m so handsome! I treated him so well! I even gave him my private treasure vault!”
“That’s my child! I worked day and night to make that child—how could he take the child and marry someone else?! How could he?!”
Xiao Yun looked as if he couldn’t believe this madness, clawing at his hair like he had never faced something more absurd in his life.
Xie Zhe feared that if this continued, Xiao Yun might actually go insane—who knew who else would suffer then. Gently, he tried to soothe him. “So, Your Majesty, calm down. Let’s consider a more optimistic possibility. This humble servant isn’t doubting your wisdom, but if, and I mean if, Xie Caiqing isn’t pregnant…”
“He definitely is,” Xiao Yun growled, still trapped in the nightmare he had conjured, his expression dark.
“Why are you so sure?” Xie Zhe asked in disbelief.
A man being pregnant was unheard of.
Xiao Yun said, “He just is. Even though he’s a man, he’s pregnant!”
“Why?”
Xiao Yun paused for two seconds. “I don’t care. He just is!”
Xie Zhe’s mouth twitched slightly. Arguing with Xiao Yun was always a double-edged sword—he had unmatched intelligence and planning skills, but at times, he could also be completely unreasonable.
“So Your Majesty would rather believe that a man can get pregnant than accept that your conclusion might be wrong?”
“He’s pregnant,” Xiao Yun said. “All the signs point to that conclusion. Even if it sounds absurd, he’s carrying my child!”
“Fine, fine,” Xie Zhe conceded. “Let’s assume Xie Caiqing is a man and is really pregnant. But didn’t Your Majesty take medicine? You mixed it yourself, guaranteed to be foolproof. How could the child possibly be yours?”
That sentence hit Xiao Yun like a thunderclap. He went silent, his thoughts collapsing in on themselves.
Xie Zhe tested the waters: “So is it that Xie Caiqing secretly had an affair and got pregnant? Or that he’s carrying Your Majesty’s child and still plans to marry someone else? And his older brother is Jiang Huaiyi. Which scenario would Your Majesty prefer?”
“……” Xiao Yun looked completely drained but still muttered, “It must be mine! That day, I even had a spiritual connection with the little bunny’s child! It’s mine. Definitely mine. I don’t care if I took medicine—it’s still mine. Why did I even take that medicine…”
His expression contorted again. “If I hadn’t taken that medicine, it would definitely be mine. Right! Why did I take that medicine?! Oh heavens, am I an idiot?! Why did I take the medicine if I wasn’t even going to need it?!”
Seeing him spiraling again, Xie Zhe knew that anyone else suffering this many soul-crushing blows in one day might not handle it any better. He was just about to offer comfort when Xiao Yun suddenly stood up.
“…Right! I can’t keep running away or lying to myself.”
Drenched in cold water by the truth, Xiao Yun finally sobered up a little and sneered. “I need to find out first whether it’s mine. If it’s not… then all my suffering was for nothing!”
Xie Zhe said calmly, “Even if it’s not yours, you’ll still suffer.”
“…” Xiao Yun glared at him viciously, his gaze sharp enough to kill. “If it’s not, I’ll make him suffer with me.”
“And if it is?”
Xiao Yun instantly changed his face, grinning ear to ear. “Then I need to stop him from denying it. Lock the truth down, tie bunny’s ears in a dead knot and hang it on my belt! If he thinks he’s stealing my child and running, no way. I’ll catch him and make him give me a whole litter to make up for it.”
….
Xiao Yun’s order to withdraw his 300,000 troops had left everyone confused.
Jiang Huaichu felt a faint unease. He completed his official duties restlessly and sat under the lamplight, slowly shaking his head.
No way… It’s too absurd. How could he possibly guess it?
Jiang Huaichu slowly stood up, took down a delicately made brocade box from the shelf, and opened the lid.
Inside was the piece of mutton-fat white jade that, after many twists and turns, still ended up in his hands.
Sometimes, he hated Xiao Yun. If, on the day he escaped, Xiao Yun hadn’t kissed him, he might have spent his whole life being able to strike him down mercilessly for the sake of Nanruo.
But after that kiss, he couldn’t do it anymore.
He couldn’t be more ruthless than Xiao Yun. He actually knew this — that he had a limit. The worst Xiao Yun did to him, he could return in kind, no more. But to take things further, to be cruel without cause — he just couldn’t.
And yet, the one thing the royal family has no use for is principles — especially naïve notions like “returning kindness with kindness.”
Jiang Huaichu looked at the flamboyant, unruly “Yun” character carved on the back of the jade and felt a bit complicated.
He didn’t know what to do with this man. Every time he tried to harden his heart because of something Xiao Yun did, the man would somehow slip back into a vague, sticky, entangled place.
Just like today.
He had withdrawn his troops.
Slipped back again.
Again and again. Jiang Huaichu smiled helplessly. It was never-ending.
He didn’t like entanglements. He liked things to be clear and straightforward. What something was — it simply was. What it wasn’t — it wasn’t.
He didn’t like ambiguity, just like he didn’t like thinking about Xiao Yun with personal feelings like he was now. It made him feel disloyal to Nanruo.
He didn’t want to waste time in this emotional mire. It made him feel like he was stuck in place. He still had many important things to do.
Jiang Huaichu shoved the jade back in, closed the box, and put it somewhere even further out of sight. He lowered his head and gently touched his belly, which was growing by the day. A smile crept to his lips. Soon, he would be a father.
Then he thought, once the child was born, if he saw a face that resembled Xiao Yun every day… would he be entangled with Xiao Yun for the rest of his life?
Even more helpless.
He didn’t want to think about it anymore.
His lower back ached slightly. As he changed clothes for a bath, Huo Xiao burst in, panting, his face furious. “Xiao Yun is shouting at the city gate. He wants to see you.”
Jiang Huaichu froze as he hung up his robe. After a few seconds: “See me? Or see Xie Caiqing?”
Huo Xiao gave him a look. “You. He named you specifically — Duan Wang, Jiang Huaichu.”
Jiang Huaichu was silent for a long time. Huo Xiao, thoughtfully, didn’t rush him. After a good while, Jiang Huaichu said blandly, “How many troops?”
“Just him. Alone. Unarmed.”
Jiang Huaichu turned back in surprise, clenched his hand tighter in his sleeve, and said coldly, “Tell him I won’t see him.”
Huo Xiao glanced at him again. “…He said if you won’t see him, it means you’re guilty. He’ll take it as a confession.”
Jiang Huaichu’s face darkened instantly.
Confess? Confess to what?
That he’s Duan Wang? Or that he betrayed him and is carrying another man’s child?
Huo Xiao said, “Please don’t be angry, Wangye. Take care of your health.”
Jiang Huaichu’s fingertips turned slightly white as they pressed against the edge of the table. His voice was cold: “How much does he know?”
Huo Xiao glanced at the Wangye’s belly, now nearly impossible to hide, and thought of that man’s arrogant attitude outside. He gritted his teeth.
He’d never imagined in this lifetime that the noble, ascetic, and upright young Wangye would bear children for that b*stard — and be repeatedly humiliated by him.
Suppressing his fury, Huo Xiao said, “He only said that one sentence. I don’t know the rest.”
“He was angry?”
“Yes. Absolutely furious.”
Jiang Huaichu immediately understood.
He knows he’s pregnant.
Thinks the child isn’t his.
He’s come to accuse him.
What must come will come — better to face it directly, tear the facade, and give him an answer. Let him give up once and for all, and end this messy entanglement. From now on, he’ll be the Emperor of Great Ning, and he himself will be Nanruo’s Duan Wang.
Jiang Huaichu said calmly, “I understand.”
“Will you see him?”
“I will,” Jiang Huaichu answered crisply, without hesitation.
“Go out to him? Or let him come in?”
Jiang Huaichu paused for a moment. “…I’ll go out.”
Huo Xiao gave him a look — in that moment, it was filled with complexity.
If Xiao Yun entered the city alone, he would be in danger. If the young Wangye left the city, he would be in danger.
After the public confrontation earlier, the citizens, soldiers, and generals inside the city all hated Xiao Yun to the point they’d wish to tear him apart.
And yet, in this moment, Jiang Huaichu chose the latter.
…
Xiao Yun wore a look of feigned fury.
If he didn’t, Xie Caiqing would never agree to see him. If he showed up all smiles and excitement, Xie Caiqing wouldn’t give him the time of day.
Not to mention — he feared being too happy too early, only to be embarrassed.
Who knew what kind of attitude Xie Caiqing would have when they met again?
After all, it had been nearly three months.
People change quickly. Old friends can become enemies overnight — let alone him and Xie Caiqing, separated for three months.
He missed him like crazy, but the other might not feel the same.
The more he thought about it, the angrier he got.
His hand holding the reins trembled uncontrollably. He couldn’t stop it. Nor could he stop his wild mood swings — soaring to the clouds one moment, ready to laugh, crashing into despair the next, seething with fury. Back and forth between two extremes, with no buffer zone at all.
It was either heaven or h*ll. No in-between.
Coming here today, for the first time, Xiao Yun realized — despite being the most powerful man in the world — there was still something he didn’t have the courage to face.
He couldn’t keep overthinking it. Any more and he’d become a coward hiding in his shell.
If he was going to die, let it be quick.
And if he lived?
He didn’t want to beat around the bush or ask others. He just wanted to hear what Xie Caiqing had to say.
His head was a mess — one moment, his wife loved him desperately and was carrying his precious baby; the next, Xie Caiqing was a shameless little scoundrel, secretly pregnant with someone else’s child, and he’d have to take a firm hand and force an abortion.
Xiao Yun thought he had prepared for both outcomes, leaving nothing to chance. But the moment he saw the palanquin being carried out, his emotions surged ahead, leaving his reason far behind—he could barely resist rushing forward.
The palanquin was borne by over twenty people. The figure inside was hidden behind layers of sheer white curtains, not a glimpse to be seen. Elevated, noble, and untouchably grand—it evoked awe and envy in all who beheld it, no one daring to harbor a single thought of offense or irreverence.
From within the palanquin, that person also looked toward him.
Xiao Yun sat astride a tall white horse, dressed in black robes. He wore no armor, no weapons—just simple court attire, likely to put Duan Wang at ease and lure him out of the city for a meeting.
He didn’t look like a general or an emperor, but rather a graceful nobleman.
Atop the city walls, rows of archers had their arrows trained on Xiao Yun, watching for the slightest move that might threaten their Wangye.
From within the distant palanquin, Jiang Huaichu lifted the curtain just a little and looked at the dark figure across the field.
The last time they parted, Xiao Yun had also ridden that tall white horse—the father of the two little ponies. He had worn almost the same attire. And he had also worn the same expression: fury.
Three months had passed in a flash. It seemed nothing had changed—except for Jiang Huaichu’s swelling belly, his figure now awkward and unsightly, unfit to be seen.
And so, he didn’t care to be seen.
Xiao Yun stared fixedly at the two slender, pale fingers lifting the curtain. For a moment, neither spoke. It was as if there was nothing left to say.
The fingers lowered the curtain again, and from behind the heavy layers came a calm voice: “What business does the Emperor of Great Ning have with this Wangye?”
The Emperor of Great Ning. This Wangye.
Hearing such cold, distant titles, Xiao Yun gave a faint sneer in his heart.
“I have questions. And is the famous Duan Wang going to speak to me like this? A bit discourteous, no?” Xiao Yun quipped. “At the very least, allow me the courtesy of coming up to speak.”
Before Jiang Huaichu could answer, Huo Xiao snapped, “Insolence!”
“What are you?” Xiao Yun frowned, then grinned. “I’ve always been insolent—ask Duan Wang, he knows best.”
Jiang Huaichu’s expression was unreadable, remaining silent.
“What, afraid to face me?” Xiao Yun felt slightly pleased. His reluctance to appear proved he still felt guilty—still thought of him—hadn’t forgotten him.
Suddenly, the curtains were flung open.
Without the slightest hesitation.
Xiao Yun was caught off guard. Sitting atop the palanquin was a refined, elegant man—handsome and poised, like Xie Caiqing but not quite. Not as striking in appearance, perhaps, but with the same breathtaking grace.
The decisiveness of the gesture made Xiao Yun’s smile falter, his face darkening.
His eyes instinctively dropped—toward Jiang Huaichu’s stomach.
But sitting down, it wasn’t clearly visible.
Jiang Huaichu clearly noticed the scrutiny, but his gaze did not waver as he met Xiao Yun’s eyes, calm and emotionless—like strangers now. Everything about him said: I am Jiang Huaichu of Nanzhuo, not your Xie Caiqing. We are no longer connected.
He even wore the snow-white feather crest of Nanzhuo’s royal family. There wasn’t a trace of past softness or shyness—only lofty indifference and calm composure.
He had changed. Or perhaps, he had always been this way, and Xiao Yun had never truly seen it.
Xiao Yun’s expression grew darker, his sharp brow bones and deep-set eyes making his grim face all the more menacing.
But Jiang Huaichu was clearly unafraid. Holding the curtain, he said lightly, “What does the Emperor of Great Ning wish to ask?”
“Why agree to see me?” Xiao Yun asked.
Jiang Huaichu smiled faintly. “Why wouldn’t I see Your Majesty? Do I have something to hide?”
“Don’t you?” Xiao Yun countered.
“I don’t understand,” Jiang Huaichu replied mildly. “As far as I know, there’s nothing unresolved between us. Debts repaid, ties severed—by Your Majesty’s own hand. ‘Each for himself, no mercy shown’—that was your exact wording, was it not? I haven’t forgotten.”
“It was I who said that, yes,” Xiao Yun laughed bitterly, “But if you’re truly merciless, then why come out to meet me? Not setting a trap?”
“Didn’t want to waste good tea on a beast who wouldn’t appreciate it, that’s all.”
“…” Xiao Yun’s face twisted for a second. Though still smiling, his eyes were ice. “Is Duan Wang truly so heartless?”
“Heartless?” Jiang Huaichu raised a brow. The ethereal grace unique to Nanruo’s misty landscapes flared for a second. “To be heartless, one must first have had feelings. When, pray tell, did I ever feel anything for Your Majesty?”
“Just hours ago, Your Majesty was still attacking Nanruo. Now you expect kind words from me? Shall I prostrate myself and thank you for withdrawing your troops?”
Xiao Yun clenched his fists, fingers creaking from the pressure. He fought to remain composed, but still replied with a crooked smile: “Well said. No feelings, no thanks needed. And yet you worried I’d get mosquito bites, brewed tea for me, helped me escape, even came out of the city to meet me. If that’s what you call merciless, then yes—my withdrawal of troops wasn’t for you.”
Jiang Huaichu had known this was coming, yet still felt a dull ache in his chest. He took a deep breath, face calm as ever: “I know myself well. Don’t overthink it. No need to remind me.”
“Feelings are over, fine,” Xiao Yun said coldly. “I’m not one to cling. But it seems fate binds us still—like a tangled thread that won’t break.”
Jiang Huaichu knew exactly what he meant.
So he knew. About the child.
But even under Xiao Yun’s piercing gaze, Jiang Huaichu showed no sign of fear, guilt, or surprise. Only a calm that chilled to the bone. He smiled faintly: “It has nothing to do with Your Majesty.”
He didn’t deny being pregnant. He simply said—it had nothing to do with him.
Xiao Yun’s smile vanished completely. His whole body trembled slightly with repressed fury. He gritted his teeth: “Say that again.”
Jiang Huaichu met his eyes and enunciated clearly, one word at a time: “It has nothing to do with Your Majesty.”
“Say it again.” Xiao Yun’s knuckles cracked audibly.
“Didn’t Your Majesty take the medicine?” Jiang Huaichu’s voice was feather-light.
“So Your Majesty’s grinning foolishly and withdrawing your troops all for this? What a pity then—disappointed, are you? You’d best go home, prepare your army, and fight again.”
“It’s mine!” Xiao Yun shouted angrily.
“Xiao Yun,” Jiang Huaichu looked at him with a gentle smile and a soft voice, “you’re not a three-year-old child. Ignoring cause and consequence, insisting that something is so just because you say it—without sufficient reason—it’s beneath you. There will be many in the future. There’s no need to fuss over one that’s not yours.”
“I’ve said all I need to say—clear and plain. Your Majesty needn’t show mercy. I won’t blame you. Whether Your Majesty blames me or not, I don’t care. Farewell forever.”
He lifted a hand, and the death guards hoisted the palanquin, just about to turn back toward the city when the sound of hooves suddenly rang out from behind.
Jiang Huaichu’s heart jumped violently. It was as if he heard the sound of the archers on the city wall pulling their bowstrings to shoot at Xiao Yun. He turned around abruptly and saw that strikingly handsome man seemingly about to charge on horseback. He clenched his hand silently and sneered coldly, “I advise Your Majesty not to act rashly. Otherwise, don’t blame me for abandoning courtesy and principle.”
Xiao Yun smiled indifferently, “Just tell them to shoot me.”
Jiang Huaichu’s face darkened. “Don’t force me.”
“I’m not forcing you. Whether you shoot or not is your decision. But getting on your palanquin today—that’s my decision. Has nothing to do with you,” Xiao Yun said.
As he spoke, he broke the standoff and rode forward. Jiang Huaichu’s heart pounded, and just before the arrows flew, he raised his hand.
The archers, with great difficulty, withdrew their arrows, still glaring down like tigers watching prey from the walls.
Xiao Yun reined in his horse, which neighed. He said helplessly, “I’m not trying to force you—I just really want to do this. You’re making such a fuss, it’s like I’m bullying you.”
Jiang Huaichu looked at him coldly. “You must come up?”
“I must.”
“Even if it means death?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Why?”
Xiao Yun, holding the dagger always hidden in his sleeve, gave a chilling laugh. “Didn’t you say there’s no affection, that it’s not mine? I’ve never suffered such humiliation. Of course I have to get back at you.”
Huo Xiao shouted angrily, “Just you—”
Jiang Huaichu stopped him, his face showing neither anger nor fear. After a long silence, he instead looked relieved and said calmly, “How about we make a bet?”
“A bet? I quite like that. Go on,” Xiao Yun said with a smile.
Jiang Huaichu said, “I’ve heard that at eighteen, Your Majesty had already charged in and out of battle nine times, fought on the front lines, moved through enemy troops as if no one was there, dodged volleys of arrows, and could still take off a man’s head. Is that true?”
Xiao Yun replied, “It is.”
“I’ll give Your Majesty weapons and armor. If you can reach the palanquin, the rain of arrows will cease—”
“No problem,” Xiao Yun said with a smile, agreeing immediately.
Jiang Huaichu said indifferently, “Life and death won’t matter.”
“Wangye!” Huo Xiao exclaimed in alarm.
“There’s no need for you to bet with him! If he insists on risking death, what’s it got to do with us?! What if he kills you?! You mustn’t get hurt!”
“Huo Xiao.” Jiang Huaichu interrupted him.
He couldn’t stand by and watch Xiao Yun, unarmed and without armor, risk his life—he simply couldn’t do it. It wasn’t because Xiao Yun forced him; it was because he couldn’t bear it. That was all.
Even if Xiao Yun was confident in his odds—with only a dagger in hand.
If he really did make it over and sought revenge, Jiang Huaichu would accept it.
It wasn’t a loss he couldn’t handle.
Xiao Yun solemnly said, “Life and death won’t matter.”
Jiang Huaichu: “What weapon do you want?”
Xiao Yun: “Anything will do.”
Jiang Huaichu ignored him and looked to a trusted aide. The aide hesitated for a long time before finally returning to the city, then came back carrying armor and weapons, handing them to Xiao Yun.
Xiao Yun put on the armor and tried the spear—it was finely crafted and felt comfortable in his grip.
“I’m coming.”
The man on the white horse, once armored, shone like a god.
Jiang Huaichu’s face lost all expression. Unexpectedly calm inside, he raised his hand and thought to himself that this doomed entanglement finally had an end. He even smiled and, without hesitation, gave the signal.
A rain of arrows poured down like a storm.
He sat in the palanquin and quietly watched.
Poison-tipped arrows flew toward Xiao Yun, each one seemingly poised to pierce him in the next second. That ever-present smirk of mockery on his face would vanish, and the undefeated war god would finally fall.
He did not blink.
The screeching of arrows being deflected by the spear rang in his ears. The figure before him moved fluidly, without hesitation—his martial skill unmatched, almost godlike.
He knocked away countless arrows, charging through the storm as if there were no one in his path, even carrying a confident smile.
Though it was a fair distance, he crossed it in a blink.
The man now stood before him, spear in hand, the blade glinting silver at the edge.
Jiang Huaichu raised his hand as promised.
The arrow storm ceased. Before him stood Xiao Yun, with water droplets on his dark brows, eyes filled with murderous intent.
“Your Majesty truly lives up to the legend. I’ve lost,” Jiang Huaichu admitted.
He fully drew aside the curtain of the palanquin and said calmly, “Please.”
“Wangye!!!” Huo Xiao shouted in fear, grabbing his weapon, and the guards all followed suit, ready to protect Jiang Huaichu at any moment.
The curtain that had never been opened to anyone was thrown wide—but Xiao Yun, far from being awed, stormed inside as if it were his own place. With a sharp tug, he yanked the curtain closed with such force it nearly tore.
He was seething with anger.
Jiang Huaichu smiled and said, “And how will Your Majesty take your revenge—”
Xiao Yun lunged at him, pushing him down onto the palanquin.
It was large enough to fit six or seven people, like a bed.
The world spun. Jiang Huaichu’s breath caught in his throat. A wave of fear hit—but a large hand caught his waist, sparing him a hard fall. Xiao Yun pressed tightly against him, their bodies flush. A certain part of Xiao Yun’s body—much more prominent than three months ago—forced Jiang Huaichu to arch his back in awkward discomfort to make room for it.
Xiao Yun’s other hand clamped tightly around his neck.
The suffocating pressure was unmistakable. Jiang Huaichu looked at him coldly.
Then suddenly, Xiao Yun released both hands, lowered his head, and kissed him fiercely—while his other hand roamed across Jiang Huaichu’s swollen belly.
