Chapter 61
Madam Lu looked utterly confused and replied, “Ah Chan? Did he come back? I haven’t seen him at all!”
Lu Hanzhi’s heart skipped a beat, but he forced a smile and said, “Mother, this joke isn’t funny at all. Tell me, where have you hidden Ah Chan?”
Madam Lu, now terrified, exclaimed, “He didn’t come back! Ah Chan really hasn’t returned! Han’er, did you have someone bring him back to the estate?”
Without asking any more questions, Yuwen Min immediately turned to his subordinates and ordered, “Summon all the personal guards of Prince An’s residence to search along the route from the Lu estate to the manor!”
The guards immediately acknowledged the command and turned to gather reinforcements for the search.
Lu Hanzhi felt his legs go weak. Without hesitation, he turned and dashed outside.
Madam Lu was equally frantic. She spun around to look at Lu Siwei and shouted, “Why are you still standing there? Hurry and send people to search!”
Ah Chan was their first grandchild. If he was truly lost, Madam Lu couldn’t even begin to imagine the consequences.
Moreover, Ah Chan was the Emperor’s eldest grandson. His disappearance was no trivial matter.
Lu Siwei also understood the gravity of the situation. He immediately mobilized all the household servants and laborers to join the search.
Lu Hanzhi had been running for several minutes when he suddenly heard the sound of galloping hooves approaching from behind.
Yuwen Min was on horseback. He extended a hand toward Lu Hanzhi and said, “Let me take you with me to search.”
Lu Hanzhi knew that relying on his own legs, he wouldn’t be able to reach the manor before nightfall.
So, he reached out, grabbed Yuwen Min’s hand, and swung himself onto the horse.
He sat in front while Yuwen Min sat behind him. Their posture was somewhat intimate.
But Lu Hanzhi had no time to dwell on that. His heart was entirely preoccupied with Ah Chan’s fate. His panic was rising uncontrollably.
Countless scenarios flashed through his mind. His greatest fear wasn’t that Ah Chan had been assassinated but that he had been abducted.
He had seen far too many tragic cases of kidnapped children. If Ah Chan had fallen into the same fate…
Ah Chan was nearly six months old now. In these past six months, Lu Hanzhi’s love for him had grown deeper than he could have ever imagined.
From behind, Yuwen Min spoke in a quiet voice, “Don’t worry. I’ll stay with you until we find Ah Chan.”
Lu Hanzhi didn’t respond. As the horse galloped forward, they sped through the night.
On the way, they encountered the captain of Prince Chu’s personal guards. It was clear that Prince Chu’s household had also deployed all its forces to search for Ah Chan.
The sky was growing darker. The deep autumn air chilled to the bone. Lu Hanzhi was starting to feel fear creep in.
It wasn’t just the cold that worried him. The mountains were filled with vicious beasts and predatory birds.
The scent of milk on a child’s body was the perfect lure for such creatures.
The more he thought about it, the more terrified he became. Lu Hanzhi felt like he was about to break down.
Unable to hold himself together any longer, he suddenly jumped off the horse and sprinted forward. After running for a while, he collapsed against a large tree near the edge of a cliff and broke down into sobs.
Yuwen Min followed closely behind him. After a moment, he stepped forward and pulled Lu Hanzhi into his embrace.
He wasn’t good at comforting others, so he simply said, “From now on, you have me. You don’t need to be afraid or blame yourself.”
Just as those words left his lips, Lu Hanzhi suddenly heard the faint cries of a baby.
His head snapped up, and he frantically looked around. That was when he noticed tracks in the dirt beneath his feet—wagon wheel ruts cutting through the earth. The surrounding grass and shrubs were crushed as if trampled by a runaway carriage.
Following the tracks downward, he saw nothing but darkness—an abyss at the bottom of the cliff.
The cliff wasn’t particularly high, but if someone had fallen from it, survival would be unlikely.
And yet, from the bottom of that ravine, the baby’s cries were clear and piercing, strong enough to reach them from below.
Without hesitation, Lu Hanzhi moved to jump down, but Yuwen Min grabbed him just in time.
Lu Hanzhi struggled to break free, but Yuwen Min scooped him up and, using his qinggong martial arts, leaped down into the ravine.
Finally regaining some clarity, Lu Hanzhi thought to himself, …Having qinggong skills really is impressive.
He sniffled, and for the first time, he found Yuwen Min rather endearing.
Once they landed on solid ground, Yuwen Min released Lu Hanzhi, and the two of them followed the sound of the cries.
The ravine had little vegetation, only jagged rocks and loose sand, making it difficult to walk.
But Lu Hanzhi was desperate to see Ah Chan. He didn’t know if the child was hurt or scared.
At last, they spotted an overturned carriage at the bottom of the ravine.
Ah Man, the elderly servant woman, had been dead for some time. The sound of crying was coming from inside the carriage.
Little Fatty Chan was huddled in the corner of the carriage, clutching the small waterwheel toy that Lu Hanzhi had given him before leaving. His face was streaked with tears as he wailed uncontrollably.
He had likely been stranded here for an entire day. That he still had enough energy to cry so loudly was astonishing.
It was probably thanks to his usual hearty appetite—he had stored up plenty of energy.
Seizing a moment of light, Lu Hanzhi squeezed into the carriage. The moment Ah Chan saw him, he eagerly waved his little arms and tried to crawl toward him. But after going the whole day without food, he was too weak and collapsed onto the ground.
When he lifted his head again, his face and body were covered in dirt. His lips were cracked, and his eyes were swollen red from crying.
Lu Hanzhi’s heart ached to the point of tears. He rushed forward to scoop Ah Chan into his arms, but something hard pressed against his hand.
He picked it up and realized it was a broken piece of jade. That was when he remembered—he had once bought Ah Chan a protective talisman.
That talisman could withstand one fatal attack, several severe injuries, and countless minor wounds. He had attached it to Ah Chan’s jade pendant.
Now, the jade pendant was shattered.
That meant if not for the talisman, Ah Chan would already be dead.
Lu Hanzhi was overwhelmed with gratitude that he had once recklessly tied this protection to Ah Chan. If he hadn’t… he didn’t dare to imagine just how shattered he would have been.
Would he die?
Probably not. But he felt that the next person to fall into darkness would likely be himself.
For the first time, he found himself beginning to understand Yuwen Min. Watching his loved ones die in front of him, one after another, made it nearly impossible not to succumb to the darkness.
Lu Hanzhi knelt there motionless, holding Ah Chan in his arms. The trembling of his body gradually subsided.
Yuwen Min stood beside them, just as still, gripping the jade ornament in his hand so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His chest rose and fell violently.
He had no idea why his emotions were suddenly in such turmoil.
All he knew was that when the boy before him had broken down in tears, his heart had felt as though it were being torn apart.
He had always been aware that their relationship was based on mutual benefit, not emotions.
Yet just now, he had felt pain for the boy—for the child he had lost.
And when he had heard that loud, newborn cry, the flicker of hope that had ignited within him had momentarily lit up his entire world.
All this time, he had carried a secret—a secret no one else knew.
He was someone who had been reborn from a past life. He had lived through countless deaths, endured madness and hatred, indulged in excess, only to finally realize that the only time he had truly felt alive was during his days in Chenxi Pavilion.
So when he discovered that he had been reborn—back to a time when his mother and brother were still alive—Yuwen Min had been ecstatic.
When he was reborn, he had just finished a fierce battle in the northern frontier.
As soon as he confirmed what point in time he had returned to, he had immediately mounted a fast horse and raced back to the capital.
Because at that moment, there were only three days left before his eldest brother would die in the Great Zhao Prison.
And just as he was making his way back, he had received an anonymous letter delivered by a carrier pigeon.
Later, after verifying it, he realized that the sender of that anonymous letter had been the very boy standing before him.
At the same time, he had secretly sent an anonymous letter to his eldest brother, warning him to be cautious.
Unfortunately, his eldest brother had not taken the warning seriously; otherwise, he wouldn’t have been caught off guard and thrown into prison.
After breaking into the prison, Yuwen Min had encountered this young master. In the beginning, his attitude towards him had been far from kind.
Not for any particular reason—simply because, in his previous life, this young master had been a loyal subordinate of the Crown Prince and had attempted to assassinate him multiple times.
He knew exactly what fate had befallen him.
Yet in this life, for some unknown reason, the young master had not married into the Crown Prince’s household. Yuwen Min had no idea what he had gone through, but over time, as they spent more time together, he discovered qualities in him that he had never noticed before.
At one point, he had even speculated—had the young master also been reborn from their past life?
Perhaps, having suffered a major setback under the Crown Prince, he had chosen to distance himself in this life.
But if that were the case, why had he chosen to help him?
Many of Yuwen Min’s questions remained unanswered. He had once considered making him an enemy, or eliminating him to prevent future troubles.
But after experiencing the young master’s unconditional help time and time again, he had ultimately decided to keep him by his side.
Firstly, because he truly admired his intelligence. Secondly, because someone who knew him so well could either be killed or turned into an asset.
But now, he found himself unable to understand the boy before him. It wasn’t that he couldn’t understand him—it was that he couldn’t understand his own heart.
At that moment, when the boy had broken down, he had truly wanted to protect him for the rest of his life.
Even if he had lost the person most precious to him in this life, Yuwen Min would always stay by his side, offering him comfort.
He thought he must be going mad.
Yet he couldn’t help himself.
Finally, Lu Hanzhi stood up, still holding Ah Chan. He turned to Yuwen Min and said, “Your Highness, I need to return to the estate. It seems there are some people who need to be dealt with.”
Yuwen Min nodded without saying a word. He simply stepped forward, lifted the two of them into his arms, and, with a few agile movements, leapt from the bottom of the cliff back to the top.
Back on solid ground, Lu Hanzhi walked ahead while Yuwen Min followed behind.
Ah Chan, exhausted from crying, had fallen asleep in Lu Hanzhi’s arms.
Having not eaten all day, he was likely starving as well.
Throughout the journey, Lu Hanzhi remained silent, holding Ah Chan as he walked forward step by step.
It was only when they finally got back on their horses that he spoke again: “Yuwen Min, do you want to be emperor?”
This was the first time Lu Hanzhi had ever asked him so directly, though he felt like it was a pointless question.
After all, the book he had entered was called Struggle for the Throne. If he weren’t aiming for the throne, why go through all this trouble?
For fun?
As expected, Yuwen Min answered, “Yes.”
Lu Hanzhi then asked, “Do you want to be a good emperor?”
Yuwen Min countered, “What is a good emperor?”
Lu Hanzhi replied, “One who protects the people.”
Yuwen Min shook his head and said, “Only after protecting those I want to protect can I have the strength to protect the people.”
Lu Hanzhi was momentarily stunned.
It was the first time he had heard such an answer. He had read plenty about struggles for the throne—some filled with grand ambitions, others with sorrowful compassion.
Some sought to achieve great feats, while others wished to save the common people.
But this was the first time he had heard someone say they would first protect the people they cared about.
For some reason, he thought Yuwen Min was incredibly cool.
He, too, wanted someone like that—someone who would protect him unconditionally, without hesitation.
But he never voiced it out loud. After all, when a person is vulnerable, they are especially prone to becoming dependent on someone.
Lu Hanzhi patted Ah Chan’s chubby little bottom, feeling that after a whole day without food, his little Ah Chan had lost weight.
He couldn’t even begin to imagine how much fear the child had gone through today.
After all, he was only six months old—just barely able to sit up on his own.
Left in the corner of the carriage like that, it was pure luck that no wild beasts had appeared. Otherwise, Ah Chan would have been nothing more than a plump, defenseless morsel.
At that moment, from behind him, Yuwen Min’s deep voice, resonating from his chest, drifted over.
“I’ve said this before, you saved us, so you’re one of those I protect. If I become the emperor… I will protect you and Ah Chan for a lifetime.”
If I become emperor, you will be the empress, and I will never go back on my word.
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