The next day, Jiang Wu abandoned his wheelchair and left the palace city with Yin Wuzhi.
At the gate, there was some commotion. Jiang Wu didn’t pay attention, but Yin Wuzhi lifted the curtain and glanced out, saying, “It’s Qiu Wuchen.”
Jiang Wu listened carefully. It seemed Qiu Wuchen wanted to enter the palace to meet him but was stopped at the gate. Little Xi was saying, “Please, we truly have an urgent matter to discuss with His Majesty. If the young shizi could just come out for a moment, that would suffice.”
Jiang Wu said, “She’s here for you.”
Qiu Wuchen stood stubbornly under the sun, the red thread on her earlobe soaked with sweat. Her expression was cold and tense, as if anxious yet nervous.
A carriage stopped in front of her.
The door opened, and a tiny crimson mole, no bigger than the tip of a needle, entered her gaze.
Before Yin Wuzhi even got out of the carriage, she suddenly rushed forward, shouting, “Yin Wuzhi! Yin Wuzhi, how did you do it? How did you do it?!”
The guards hurried to stop her.
Jiang Wu watched her through the carriage window.
Her eyes were bloodshot, her expression frenzied. It seemed she had applied cinnabar, but it had been washed away by sweat, leaving behind streaks of red that looked pitiful.
The guards grabbed her arms as she struggled forward, shouting at Yin Wuzhi. Her gaze was filled with desperation and pleading.
“Tell me, Yin Wuzhi, tell me.”
“Sister-in-law.” A calm and pleasant voice reached her ears, clearing Qiu Wuchen’s mind. She turned to look at Jiang Wu, who said, “Let’s find somewhere to talk slowly.”
In the private room at the Jinya Tower, a few ice basins were set up. Little Xi wiped the sweat from Qiu Wuchen’s face, while Yin Wuzhi, seated across from her, asked, “Would the Crown Princess like to change? Switching between hot and cold like this might lead to a chill.”
Qiu Wuchen shook her head, gazing at Yin Wuzhi for a moment before suddenly standing up and cupping his face with her hands. Caught off guard, Yin Wuzhi’s temples turned red from her firm grip.
Jiang Wu: “.”
Qiu Wuchen demanded, “How did you do it? Tell me.”
Yin Wuzhi replied, “Please, let go.”
“Tell me, tell me.”
Yin Wuzhi glanced at Jiang Wu, who wore a blank expression. Qiu Wuchen tightened her hold on his face again, saying, “Yin Wuzhi, tell me. How did you save him? Wasn’t he supposed to die? He was supposed to die.”
Jiang Wu lifted a foot and nudged Yin Wuzhi.
Yin Wuzhi took hold of her hands, easing her down into a seat. “Sit down, and I’ll explain.”
Qiu Wuchen realized her abruptness and turned to Jiang Wu, saying, “I apologize for my rudeness, Your Majesty.”
“Mm.” Though Yin Wuzhi was the one startled, Jiang Wu accepted her apology without hesitation, saying, “Please, take a seat.”
Qiu Wuchen sat beside Yin Wuzhi, staring intently at him.
Jiang Wu: “.”
Yin Wuzhi said, “Please, sit a little further away.”
Qiu Wuchen reluctantly pulled her chair back.
Jiang Wu: “Tea.”
Yin Wuzhi poured him some tea, feeding him a sip, to which Qiu Wuchen frowned. “Your Majesty, may we begin?”
Setting the cup down, Jiang Wu glanced at Yin Wuzhi, who then began hesitantly. “Speak.”
In Jiang Wu’s presence, Yin Wuzhi seemed at a loss for words. Qiu Wuchen looked between the two and then asked, “Yin Wuzhi, I ask you—is this your second life?”
Jiang Wu questioned, “What do you mean by that?”
“The first time I met him, I knew he was destined to live in loneliness, just like me. Later, I saw how the Emperor overcame a great calamity, but he still held a desire for death. So, I taught him the art of marking a mole, changing his fortune, expecting him to seek something unattainable and go mad, just as I did.”
“But now, a real mole has appeared, and his fortune has changed. And the Emperor…” She looked at Jiang Wu. “Seems to have developed a faint desire to live.”
Yin Wuzhi remarked, “You knew he would face a calamity.”
“No,” Qiu Wuchen replied. “I learned halfway, not to foresee catastrophes or wealth, but only to see matters of the heart. From your face and your closeness to His Majesty, I sensed your beloved would face a great calamity. But I couldn’t dissolve it; I could only watch. Later, when we met again, you took my Old Acquaintance Fragrance. I saw your unwavering dedication to His Majesty, while he seemed devoid of a will to live. You even lamented to Little Xi, fearing you wouldn’t be able to keep someone determined to leave.”
Yin Wuzhi said, “You wanted to watch me suffer.”
“Yes,” Qiu Wuchen admitted. “You called me mad, and I was waiting for you to go even madder than I.”
She had awaited news of Jiang Wu’s severe injury, and of Yin Wuzhi’s madness. She thought it was fate—no one could stop an emperor’s desire for death.
But soon enough, Jiang Wu awoke, leaving her puzzled until she overheard rumors of Yin Wuzhi encountering some divine enlightenment, his fortune shifting.
Only then did it dawn on her.
She strained to remember the subtle changes in Jiang Wu—like his shift in temperament, his distaste for flower pastries, and his lack of the usual warmth upon seeing her.
Or when King Xiang mentioned that the Emperor now had “puppet drowsiness syndrome,” neglecting state affairs.
Before, she’d thought Jiang Wu was simply depressed.
But piecing it all together and recalling Jiang Wu’s indifference toward all things, she suddenly realized that, viewed through human eyes, she might’ve been mistaken.
Yin Wuzhi turned to Jiang Wu and asked, “Your Majesty, would you like to rest in the next room?”
“I want to listen, too.”
Yin Wuzhi was hesitant.
He got up and walked to the window, Qiu Wuchen following closely. “Yin Wuzhi, tell me. Is there a chance for me too? Can I have another life? Can I see Ah Yuan again?”
“You taught me how to mark a mole,” Yin Wuzhi said. “You taught me twice.”
A hopeful smile spread on Qiu Wuchen’s face, her eyes brimming with expectation. “Then, does that mean I, too, could meet Ah Yuan?”
“You died.”
Yin Wuzhi looked at her, saying, “Everyone died. You, King Xiang, the Great Empress Dowager, Empress Dowager Wen—all were killed by Zhao Cheng.”
It all began with Yao Ji’s deceit, convincing Jiang Wu that he was a person of Zhao. That night, Jiang Wu likely found no sleep. No one knew if he truly believed Yao Ji or not. Perhaps he still held some hope for her, or perhaps he’d become accustomed to such exploitation and torment from his mother.
He governed diligently, sleeping only two hours each night, dividing his time between books and state affairs. All his actions centered around the Xia Kingdom, except for concealing the “truth” his mother had shared with him.
In that life, Ah Gui was not brought into the palace, and no one realized the Great Empress Dowager had been drugged. No one knew the bamboo Jiang Wu had gifted, mingled with the drug, was a lethal poison.
When the bamboo flowers bloomed, the Great Empress Dowager passed away.
All evidence pointed to a conspiracy between Jiang Wu and Yao Ji, but he remained the Son of Heaven, and no one dared speak up.
This incident finally resolved Qiu Wuchen and King Xiang to investigate Jiang Wu thoroughly. Jiang Wu might’ve known, might not have known, but he allowed Qiu Wuchen to feign madness and enter the palace. People still praised him as a saint when he married Qiu Wuchen.
Jiang Wu let them investigate while taking action against Yao Ji, imprisoning her.
But he still never revealed to anyone that he was a Zhao person.
Zhao Cheng, in order to rescue Yao Ji, led people to infiltrate the palace. At that time, no one knew when he had arrived in Xia or that he bore a striking resemblance to Jiang Wu.
One night, Empress Dowager Wen ran into him, unprepared.
That night, Empress Dowager Wen passed away.
King Xiang witnessed the scene. He saw those eyes and, after a brief scuffle, saw the intruder escape toward Taiji Hall.
King Xiang informed Qiu Wuchen and the ministers, saying he had personally witnessed Jiang Wu kill the Empress Dowager and that he had been injured in the confrontation.
Yin Wuzhi recalled the grim expression on King Dingnan’s face when he returned that night.
He had told King Dingnan, “His Majesty wouldn’t do such a thing.”
“King Xiang and His Majesty are like family. He wouldn’t accuse his own brother without reason.”
They both recalled how the Empress Dowager’s death had cast suspicion on Jiang Wu. Yin Wuzhi realized that the ministers’ preconceived notions might leave Jiang Wu defenseless.
Yin Wuzhi snuck into the palace to warn Jiang Wu that King Xiang suspected him of murdering the Empress Dowager and that he should flee quickly.
Jiang Wu replied, “The innocent need not fear; the guilty cannot hide.”
The Zhao people seemed to take advantage of the situation, realizing Xia would fall into chaos if they continued.
Like hidden vipers, they launched a sudden attack on Xia.
Within a day, word spread swiftly across the entire Xia kingdom that Jiang Wu was of Zhao blood, and chaos erupted.
Before the officials had time to process this, they had to answer for the unrest tearing through the nation.
“If you knew that His Majesty killed the Crown Prince Yuan, what would you do?”
Qiu Wuchen took a step back. “Ah Yuan was like a brother to His Majesty. If he truly was killed by him, I’d kill him with my own hands.”
“If you encounter His Majesty, he’d let you kill him. But that night, as my father and Marquis Wu were preparing to storm the palace, I feared His Majesty would be hurt, so I helped him escape.”
Ironically, as Yin Wuzhi was pulling Jiang Wu out of the palace, they heard soldiers assembling outside. Jiang Wu realized what was happening and, breaking free, said, “This kingdom entrusted by my father cannot be abandoned as long as it stands.”
The timing was too perfect.
Qiu Wuchen stormed into Jiang Wu’s quarters, her face twisted with rage, scissors in hand. Jiang Wu pulled free from Yin Wuzhi’s grip and turned away.
Before King Dingnan could bring his troops, before Jiang Wu returned to Taiji Hall, someone took Jiang Wu’s usual sword and drove it into Qiu Wuchen’s chest.
When Jiang Wu arrived at the Taiji Hall, Qiu Wuchen was already dead.
The soldiers surrounded the palace, and Jiang Wu faced interrogation.
Dozens of shadow guards appeared, shielding him. Their dark blades glinted as they vowed to stand with their emperor to the death.
It was a civil war.
Yin Wuzhi explained repeatedly that he had taken Jiang Wu away from Taiji Hall and that Qiu Wuchen had not been killed by him.
No one believed him.
He suggested searching the palace and found dozens of hidden Zhao people, all of whom had ties to Yao Ji. This only further solidified the belief that Jiang Wu was of Zhao descent.
Jiang Wu ordered his shadow guards to stand down, facing judgment alone.
Only then did Yin Wuzhi understand what it meant to be truly powerless.
The once-beloved saint had become a public enemy. No matter how tirelessly he had served Xia or how much he had sacrificed, a single drop of Zhao blood was enough to condemn him.
Yin Wuzhi watched as the man who had been revered knelt amid the roaring jeers, casting a sorrowful gaze over the angry faces as he said, “Regardless of my bloodline, I have never betrayed Xia. I did not kill the Great Empress Dowager, nor my royal mother, nor Qiu Wuchen… If…”
But the shouts drowned him out.
He lowered his gaze, and Yin Wuzhi, reading his lips, saw him say: “If… you would allow me the time to investigate this.”
No one heard this, and no one cared.
He didn’t repeat himself.
Maybe he was too weary to keep resisting, or maybe he had realized it was all pointless, so he gave up.
Yin Wuzhi broke free of King Dingnan’s grip, rushed to the judgment platform, and shouted, “Give him some time! We can uncover the truth! Chancellor, Wangye, Marquis Wu… we should investigate and not fall prey to Zhao’s scheme!”
But by then, no one cared about the truth.
Xia needed an emperor without a single tainted drop of blood.
So, his voice grew hoarse, his knees ached from kneeling, and his forehead was bloodied. In the end, King Dingnan dragged him away again.
Jiang Wu was thrown into prison.
The officials decided to make King Xiang the emperor.
Zhao, under the guise of rescuing the Zhao heir, launched an invasion from the border into Xia.
Soon after, Zhao operatives arrived within the walls of Guanjing, coming to rescue Jiang Wu.
King Xiang led troops to intercept them and confronted Zhao Cheng. After learning he was the crown prince of Zhao and seeing his striking resemblance to Jiang Wu, King Xiang became even more certain that Jiang Wu was of Zhao descent.
In the chaos, Yin Wuzhi watched from the shadows as King Xiang and Zhao Cheng fought, seizing the chance to help Jiang Wu escape.
He told Jiang Wu over and over that the truth was not as it seemed and that he believed Jiang Wu could prove his innocence.
At first, Jiang Wu replied, “What if this is the truth?”
“The truth is not like this.” Yin Wuzhi had his own people investigating and had found inconsistencies in the claims about Jiang Wu’s Zhao heritage, so he assured him.
“If we cannot fully uncover the truth, will you bear infamy with me?”
“I’m not afraid.”
“I don’t want to drag you down.”
“I know.”
Perhaps Jiang Wu was moved by his resolve, for he agreed.
Yet, chaos still engulfed Xia, and the nation searched relentlessly for Jiang Wu, condemning Yin Wuzhi as a traitor too.
After another narrow escape from pursuit by Xia’s forces, they unexpectedly saw Yao Ji in the distance, seemingly following Zhao Cheng back to Zhao.
That night, they sat under a giant tree, bandaging each other’s wounds. Gazing in the direction where Yao Ji’s carriage had stopped, Jiang Wu said suddenly, “Yin Wuzhi, I hate her.”
Yin Wuzhi looked at him.
“This might be the closest I’ll ever get to her in this life,” Jiang Wu said. “Help me, kill her.”
Yin Wuzhi understood his bitterness, but he wasn’t sure if Jiang Wu would regret killing his own mother.
“Are you certain, Your Majesty?”
Even after Jiang Wu’s fall from grace, Yin Wuzhi still addressed him with his title, never once changing it.
“Yes.” Jiang Wu replied, “Kill her, end this search. Then, let’s find a place to settle down.”
Yin Wuzhi was taken aback. “Truly?”
“Yes,” Jiang Wu said. He remembered his last words to him, “Wherever you take me, I will follow.”
Bloodied, he lifted the blade from the ground.
The turmoil in Xia had not subsided. Zhao Cheng and King Xiang’s battle ended in heavy injuries on both sides, leaving few men on either end.
Yin Wuzhi easily took Yao Ji’s life.
He struck and withdrew, hearing only Zhao Cheng’s anguished shout, “You’ve killed her, Jiang Wu will die too—”
As he left, Yin Wuzhi thought, He must be lying.
Returning to the giant tree, Jiang Wu’s figure was gone. Looking to the other side, he saw dark blood staining the thick green grass.
He followed the trail and caught up with Jiang Wu, supporting his collapsing body.
Holding Jiang Wu in his arms, he began walking back toward Xia. He had nowhere else to go, thinking that those people would never stand by and let Jiang Wu die.
Jiang Wu laid in his arms, his gaze fixed on Yin Wuzhi’s chin, staring endlessly. He seemed to have much he wanted to say, but in the end, he simply gave a small, relieved smile and then peacefully closed his eyes.
“I killed him.”
When he returned, Yin Wuzhi told his father, “I killed the traitor.”
Only then did he understand why Jiang Wu had asked him to kill Yao Ji.
It wasn’t that he wanted to die himself.
He was giving Yin Wuzhi a chance to clear his name.
Jiang Wu was already labeled a traitor, while Yin Wuzhi still had a chance at redemption.
Not long after, Gu Yan returned.
He was an undercover agent planted in Zhao since childhood and later placed by Yao Ji at Jiang Wu’s side. Zhao Cheng suspected his disloyalty and threw him off a cliff.
Miraculously surviving, Gu Yan came back to explain everything to everyone.
But he came too late.
At that time, Yin Wuzhi thought, perhaps this was fate.
But in this life, Yin Wuzhi realized something was off about Gu Yan early on. That night at Shengguo Temple, he set a trap to lure Zhao Cheng in with Gu Yan’s help, although Jiang Wu’s reckless actions later disrupted his plan.
Qiu Wuchen asked, “What about King Xiang?”
“He realized His Majesty’s innocence, feeling responsible for all that had happened. In anguish, he took his troops into battle against Zhao, only to fall on the battlefield.”
Jiang Wu looked confused as to why history would portray him as the tyrant who killed King Xiang.
Sensing his confusion, Yin Wuzhi glanced at him and said, “King Xiang once faked his death in a fight with Zhao Cheng to make Zhao believe that Xia was leaderless.”
He referred to the time he took Jiang Wu away amid the chaos.
King Xiang’s feigned death worked; Zhao believed Xia was in complete disarray, and as they recklessly advanced, Yin Wuzhi and King Xiang returned with troops, capturing tens of thousands, paving the way for future unification.
Jiang Wu felt little attachment to these events but realized that the former Jiang Wu and Yin Wuzhi must have shared a bond.
He gave Yin Wuzhi a glance, and Qiu Wuchen continued, “So, what did you do next?”
“In our past lives, we also met. His Majesty took me to your little courtyard, and before the Great Empress Dowager passed, you said the same words you did this time. I called you mad, and you pitied me, marking my face.”
But back then, Yin Wuzhi hadn’t believed.
Only after avenging everything, when all was settled, did he start praying to the gods, scouring the world in hopes of finding Jiang Wu again.
He often wondered if living long enough would bring him face-to-face with Jiang Wu again, watching every child passing by, wondering if they were his reincarnation.
Even a random storyteller on the roadside could deceive him.
Like Qiu Wuchen, he bought many trinkets for luck in love, decorating the Taiji Hall until it overflowed.
He filled the palace walls with flags, hoping to summon his spirit in his dreams.
After Zhao’s destruction, some remnants posed as shamans, deceiving him time and again, and he faced peril after peril, his loyal ministers scolding him as absurd. Countless others condemned him, begging him to end his delusions.
Whenever palace maids changed, they’d secretly whisper, wondering why the Emperor would keep such a fine mirror there or carry such a precious red pen. Why he bore small scars on his body or why his eyes held a faint red hue.
Countless shamans entered his chambers, monks chanted by his bedside.
He led troops to expand the territory, restoring temples and searching every inch of the world.
Jiang Wu never lied to him; if he wanted to take him somewhere, they’d go anywhere.
“And then? Where did you find him?”
“I never did,” Yin Wuzhi said. “In this life, he never entered my dreams.”
“Then what now?”
Yin Wuzhi returned, took a sip of tea, and asked Jiang Wu, “Thirsty after listening for so long?”
Jiang Wu lowered his lashes, obediently drinking from Yin Wuzhi’s hand.
Qiu Wuchen interjected, “Can’t you hurry up? You’re killing me here.”
