Chapter 176
If he were to count the mistakes he had made in this lifetime, they could be enumerated.
The one he most regretted was sacrificing Yin Pingwu.
How many Yin Pingwus existed in this world?
He was handsome, gentle, and considerate.
He was the only light in the world, allowing him to see brightness in a dark childhood.
But he had no choice but to sacrifice him—after all, as the crown prince, how could he afford to be swayed by mere personal affections?
He even went so far as to sacrifice their child, using the condition of establishing Yin Liwu’s son as the crown prince to gain the full support of the court elders, the Yin family, and his father-in-law, Lord Feng’en.
With the backing of the million-strong Rong family army, he was finally able to secure the throne.
Yet this matter could never be made public.
The Yin family was cunning, and they held evidence of his scheme against Yin Pingwu.
If he were to establish another heir, all of his past deeds would be exposed to the world.
The emperor’s authority outweighed everything—especially since the crown prince himself had done no wrong—and he had, in a relatively stable manner, passed the realm to the next generation.
If his ancestors in the afterlife were aware, he had at least made an accounting to them.
But as he aged, his longing for and guilt toward Yin Pingwu only grew stronger.
Now, seeing Zong Yuan, who was his exact image, felt like clutching a lifeline.
If he were still able to act freely, Zong Yuan might have already been carrying his child.
He stepped forward slowly, standing quietly to admire him, a faint fresh fragrance lingering at his nose.
The emperor closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, asking, “Zong Yuan, what incense are you burning?”
Zong Yuan glanced at the emperor, first adjusting the stray locks near his ears, then softly replied, “This is a calming incense from our Eastern Sea. I saw that Your Majesty has been restless lately, likely due to the affairs of the state. Rest here for a while, close your eyes, and take a short nap. When you wake, I promise you’ll feel more refreshed than ever.”
The emperor nodded in satisfaction, laughing aloud. “Very well, then I shall rest here. In my harem of thirty-nine, not one shows the care that Zong Yuan does.”
Zong Yuan pressed his lips together and smiled. “Since my heart belongs to Your Majesty, naturally I must consider your well-being in everything. Otherwise, if Your Majesty suffers, my heart suffers too. So it is better to care for you more, which also allows me peace of mind.”
The emperor froze again. Though Zong Yuan’s words were not identical to Pingwu’s past expressions, they carried the same meaning.
Back then, Yin Pingwu would light incense and, pretending casually, say to him, “If you are uncomfortable, I am uncomfortable too. So I might as well do more; then we both feel at ease.”
Because of that sentence, as crown prince, he once locked the doors of the private chamber for half a day with him.
What could be more moving than such a rare beauty in the world, frowning as he held medicinal incense and spoke words of concern?
Now hearing these words again, the emperor’s heart and mind were in turmoil.
What had passed, the days gone by, could not be retrieved.
What lay before him, if not cherished, would be lost forever.
He stepped forward, taking Zong Yuan’s hand, and asked, “Zong Yuan, I wish to grant you the title of Imperial Noble Lord, equal in rank to Imperial Noble Conconcubine. Do you accept?”
Zong Yuan shook his head.
The emperor froze. “What? You do not wish to marry me?”
Zong Yuan continued to toy with the incense burner, looking down. “As long as I can remain by Your Majesty’s side, Zong Yuan does not need any title. Affection is what matters most; I care nothing for these empty ranks.”
That single sentence completely captivated the emperor.
Some desires, if held too long, become madness.
A hidden thought stirred in his mind, yet he quietly concealed it, waiting for the right moment.
In the northern suburbs, Lu Hanzhi, six months pregnant, stood under the blazing sun, surveying the terrain with Yuwen Min.
He explained that after constructing the bridge over the Changjing River, he had a plan in mind, and Yuwen Min nodded in agreement.
But he also voiced many concerns.
Summer was peak flood season for the Changjing River; spanning dozens of meters across the river, building a bridge was no simple task.
In the past, bridges were always built across narrower sections for ease of construction.
Yet precisely because the river was narrow, during flood season, bridges would either overflow or be washed away.
Over the years, whenever the authorities needed to repair a bridge, they made only temporary structures. Even if destroyed, they did not worry—they simply rebuilt.
Lu Hanzhi, however, took a different approach, choosing a higher, flatter, and wider stretch of the river.
He explained to Yuwen Min: “Here, the terrain is flat and supported by the surrounding mountains, making it suitable for large-scale construction. Also, this section is the widest part of the river. Even in floods, it won’t overflow the banks. In contrast, narrower areas are often swept away. Building here is undoubtedly the safest option.”
Yuwen Min looked at the vast river and asked, “Wang Fei, have you considered that with our current manpower, it’s impossible to construct a bridge across such a wide river?”
Lu Hanzhi smiled. “I have considered it!”
Yuwen Min’s expression remained calm. “Then what do you propose?”
Lu Hanzhi pointed to both riverbanks and stepped onto a nearby rock.
Yuwen Min supported his arm, helping him up and holding him carefully, fearing he might stumble.
A man six months pregnant was, indeed, somewhat impractical.
Lu Hanzhi pointed at the cliff faces on both sides. “See, these cliffs provide excellent anchor points. We can rely on the mountains to construct a suspension bridge.”
Yuwen Min frowned. “A suspension bridge?”
In Yuwen Min’s era, bridges were primarily wooden. He had never heard of a suspension bridge.
Lu Hanzhi nodded. “Yes, a suspension bridge.” He took out a blueprint provided by the system. “We drill into these cliffs, use steel locks and wooden planks as materials, and span the river. This will allow us to build a simple suspension bridge.”
This was the first mission of the Intermediate level second stage: building a suspension bridge.
For Lu Hanzhi, this was straightforward.
It seemed the system also understood that infrastructure projects needed to progress step by step and should not be rushed.
Yuwen Min studied the blueprint and his eyes gleamed with admiration.
He nodded approvingly at Lu Hanzhi. “Wang Fei, your mind must be a gift from the gods. I am in awe.”
Lu Hanzhi’s face flushed with shyness. “Wang Ye, you flatter me. You don’t need to envy me—after all, there’s one thing on you that’s also a gift from the gods.”
To anyone else listening, it might sound like Lu Hanzhi was praising Wang Ye’s unmatched martial skills, as if he could stabilize the world.
But only the two of them knew in their hearts that Lu Hanzhi was complimenting something entirely different—something unspeakable about Yuwen Min.
Yuwen Min glanced at Lu Hanzhi and whispered, “Wang Fei, are you planning not to let your mouth rest tonight? It’s fine; you’ve always loved to talk. Using it more is good for you.”
Lu Hanzhi instinctively bit his tongue, then shut his mouth.
He knew this man always followed through on what he said, which made him afraid to tease him now.
Lu Hanzhi also knew that this floating bridge was certainly not the final mission.
Each level had three missions, and he had only completed the first mission of the Intermediate level second stage.
At that moment, the craftsmen he had hired had already begun chiseling through the cliffs to construct the suspension bridge. He hoped the construction period wouldn’t be too long.
That night, back at the prince residence, Lu Hanzhi received a message from Zong Yuan, saying only that everything went smoothly and that the emperor’s mood would be crucial in the future.
Lu Hanzhi smiled and asked Aunt Liu, who delivered the message, “Has the Crown Prince’s residence sent any news?”
Aunt Liu nodded. “The Crown Prince’s residence stationed a palace maid named Jiang Xiang at Xiaoyu Residence. Last night, after the emperor left, Jiang Xiang returned to report to the Crown Prince’s informants.”
Lu Hanzhi nodded. “Good. From now on, we don’t need to worry; things will naturally progress with some gentle nudges.”
Aunt Liu bowed and quietly withdrew.
Lu Hanzhi was about to go see Yuwen Min when he noticed a pale figure entering the front courtyard—it was Mu Qingtong, whom he had previously arranged to meet Yuwen Min.
He knew that Yuwen Min might still want to persuade Mu Qingtong. Although Lu Hanzhi thought the chances were slim, he had still asked Yin Cong to bring Mu Qingtong.
Because Lu Hanzhi had taken care of Xiao Liuzi, Yin Cong had always been grateful to him and was willing to help with many matters.
Mu Qingtong had only one son. While they officially called each other master and disciple, they both knew the truth—after all, Yin Cong could not exist in this world.
But now it hardly mattered; the royal Xiao Langjun had no right to inherit the throne.
Yuwen Min’s eldest son, Yuwen Jue, was a perfect example.
His Zhong’er had borne a child long ago, years before Yuwen Jue even did.
He only regretted that he hadn’t been attentive enough to notice Zhong’er’s feelings for his senior brother.
The child had always hidden his thoughts carefully. It wasn’t until he discovered he was pregnant that he realized he had secretly taken the sacred medicine before his senior brother left Yan Nan Village.
He felt he had been irresponsible to the child, and to his own family.
If he hadn’t spent those years after being rescued in a haze of illness, his maternal family would not have suffered sudden misfortune without warning.
By the time he finally realized he had a son who needed proper guidance, Zhong’er’s thoughts were already beyond his understanding.
Lu Hanzhi was about to return to the rear courtyard for a stroll when another figure entered.
The person’s expression was still stiff—neither smiling nor angry, as if he were devoid of emotion.
Lu Hanzhi recognized him immediately and waved. “Mr. Zhong, over here.”
Zhong Yao looked over, greeted Mu Qingtong briefly, then turned to find Lu Hanzhi.
Lu Hanzhi stepped forward. “Why did you follow? Xiao Liuzi and Ah Chan are in the rear courtyard. Shall we go find them?”
Joy lit up Zhong Yao’s eyes, though his face remained stiff. “Alright.”
In the rear courtyard, Xiao Liuzi was already handling his heavy sword with remarkable skill.
Although only seven, he had grown taller and already carried some semblance of a young boy’s presence.
Still, he was lean, without much flesh.
Ah Chan rested his small face in his hands, watching. Xiao Liuzi paused and wiped his drool. “Why do little kids always drool?”
Ah Chan only half understood, being just a year and a half old. He tilted his head thoughtfully before replying, “Because… greedy.”
Xiao Liuzi: …
Lu Hanzhi: …
Zhong Yao: …
Zhong Yao finally couldn’t help but chuckle, causing slight wrinkles on the human-skin mask covering his face.
No wonder he never smiled—his mask would crease when he did.
Lu Hanzhi stepped forward, ruffling Ah Chan’s hair and teasing, “Does Ah Yao have flesh or sugar on him to make you so greedy?”
Xiao Liuzi’s face turned crimson, unsure what to say.
Lu Hanzhi had only been joking, so he didn’t take it to heart.
But Ah Chan said something shocking: “Greedy for Brother Liu’s body!”
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