“Ye Bu Shou… Zongqi?” Emperor Jinglong put down his writing brush and washed his hands in a nearby clean water basin.
On the desk, the framework of a grand landscape painting titled Sunlight over Rivers and Mountains had taken shape. The mountains and cities were beginning to emerge in majestic form.
Su Yan withdrew his admiring gaze and said a bit sheepishly, “Your Majesty, I took the liberty of making the decision without reporting to you first.”
A young eunuch entered to serve tea. The Emperor picked up a cup of Pu’er for himself and gestured for the other cup—pine needle tea with olive—to be given to Su Yan. Lifting the lid and gently blowing the steam, the Emperor said:
“Then go on, tell me what you were thinking. If your explanation is convincing, I won’t punish you.”
“This Yan Chengxue—I met him while stationed in Shaanxi. He’s fiery and narrow-minded, harsh and arrogant, with a very high opinion of himself. Because his village was massacred by the Tartars in his youth, he harbors an intense hatred for foreign tribes, especially those from the Northern Steppe. He has a narrow perspective but a lofty ambition, fond of cunning tactics, and carries a dangerous mindset of ‘better I betray the world than let the world betray me.’”
“If that’s the case, why not just kill him? Why give him a chance?” the Emperor asked. His tone, however, carried no real doubt—more like a test.
“Your Majesty is surely familiar with datura. It’s a powerful anesthetic and painkiller, but in the wrong dose, it causes seizures and delirium. It all depends on how it’s used,” Su Yan said, sipping his tea before continuing. “Back in Shaanxi, I saw the way he trained his troops. His orders were followed like law—even if it meant aiming arrows at his own superior, his soldiers wouldn’t hesitate. That level of discipline and obedience is rare. Despite being a civilian official acting outside his role to train troops—technically improper—he controlled them like an extension of his own body. It reminded me of a saying: Soldiers don’t need thoughts, only absolute obedience.”
The Emperor chewed on that phrase, nodding slightly.
“This man has many flaws, but his loyalty to the country and crown is still intact. He also has a deep bond with his friend Huo Dun, showing he isn’t completely cold-blooded. I had a thought back then: what if we could chisel away the crooked, sharp, and toxic parts of him—could he still be of use?”
Su Yan presented a stack of notes to the Emperor. “Yesterday at the imperial prison, I saw the military texts he wrote. The ideas are bizarre, the tactics ruthless. He would use anything to achieve victory. He’s a tactical genius who walks an unconventional path.”
“I believe such a person can never be a great general—but he has the makings of a deadly strategist.”
“So I deliberately belittled him, stirred his pride to make him eager to prove himself. Then I bound his hands with Huo Dun’s life, forcing him to stop treating soldiers as expendable pawns. Lastly, I placed him in command of Ye Bu Shou, where he must adapt to real battle through a unit that thrives on speed, stealth, agility, and precision.”
“I’ve given him the time and position to prove his loyalty and ability. If he passes the tests and earns enough military merit, he may even one day contend for the position of Ye Bu Shou’s chief commander.”
The emperor listened as he flipped through the pages carefully, and finally sighed, saying, “What moves me is not this book, but Qinghe. Those in lower positions handle matters, those in higher positions recognize and employ talents—Qinghe has given me an unexpected surprise. It seems my expectations for you were not high enough before.”
Su Yan, feeling ashamed, quickly replied, “I dare not accept such praise, Your Majesty overestimates me,” all the while thinking, How could I dare show off before a master? When it comes to identifying and using people, even to the art of wielding power and manipulating hearts, you are the true expert—
To strike at the enemy, there is no better tactic than sowing division.
To control the court, there is no better way than pitting ministers against one another for balance.
To win hearts, there is no better strategy than a balance of grace and authority.
Just these three—Your Majesty plays the game at the highest level. What am I? At best, a stubborn bronze noob.
Otherwise, why did His Majesty deliberately say nothing about the incident where he dismissed his personal guards and left Su Yan alone with Shen Qi for a full quarter-hour in the imperial prison? Was it not precisely to keep Su Yan anxious about the emperor’s reaction, fearing a reckoning at any moment, so that from then on he wouldn’t dare cross the line again?
Fortunately, Su Yan had a decently thick skin. Since the emperor pretended not to know, he would go along with the act, behaving as usual.
He respectfully kowtowed to thank the emperor for sparing him, respectfully took his leave, and before departing, even threw in a few refined compliments about the emperor’s half-finished painting.
Lan Xi, standing by, commented, “Lord Su seems particularly well-behaved today. Then again, with such favor from Your Majesty, how could he not be deeply grateful?”
Emperor Jinglong set his teacup on the table with a soft thud and gave a faint, bitter smile. “He’s angry with me.”
“Angry? That’s… outrageous!” Lan Gonggong flicked his horsetail whisk in the direction of the hall’s exit and adopted a theatrical tone to admonish Su Yan on the emperor’s behalf. “This is arrogance born of favor! Shall I go give him a warning and summon him back to apologize to Your Majesty?”
The emperor sighed lightly and waved his hand. “Let it be. That one looks clever and obedient, but his heart is wild and restless—he cannot stand restrictions. I forbade him from consorting with those unruly men and assigned four guards to watch over him, supposedly for his protection, but in truth to monitor and keep him away from bad influences. Do you think he doesn’t know that? He’s sulking with me over this.”
Lan Xi chuckled. “Lord Su’s way of sulking is certainly unique. Your Majesty, I have something to say, if I may.”
“You’ve thought up some flattery again? Go on.”
“I’m no genius, but judging from Lord Su’s every word and action, I believe he holds deep respect and admiration for Your Majesty. Just think—when Your Majesty had a headache not long ago, he had just returned to the capital but rushed to the palace to inquire after you before even setting foot in his own home.”
“That day he waited anxiously outside the hall, eyes darting like a moth to a flame trying to peer through the cracks in the door. When I told him of your symptoms, he stood there stunned, then begged me to find a way to let him in to tend to Your Majesty’s illness.”
The emperor smirked. “Didn’t you say you had one thing to say? Why have you said four?”
Lan Xi lowered his head to apologize. “Forgive my loose tongue…”
“I like hearing it. Continue.”
“Yes, Your Majesty! I believe this wine-soaked crab is already in the steamer—what it needs now is a blast of fire. Cover it with the lid and steam it on high heat, and it’ll be done in no time. Once it’s cooked, isn’t it up to you how to eat it?”
The emperor toyed with his teacup lid, pondering for a moment before replying, “But once the fire blazes too hot, the crab might struggle violently, breaking its claws and legs in a tragic fight to survive. And besides, Su Qinghe is no crab, and I am no crab eater.”
Lan Xi advised, “I know Your Majesty is refined and proud, unwilling to force things, and only desires a willing heart. But such matters depend on the person. Some people will never awaken unless they’re coaxed—or forced—into it. Once they’ve had a taste of sweetness, they’ll come willingly. But if you never show a bit of firmness, they might go their whole life without ever understanding what they’ve missed—how can there be talk of willingness then?”
The teacup lid knocked softly against the table with a crisp clink.
The emperor pressed it down with his fingers, his Adam’s apple bobbing once before he lifted the cup to take a sip.
Lan Xi, who had learned to read the emperor’s moods over more than ten years, immediately knew that something had stirred. Whether it was a ripple or a wave, clouds and rain were brewing. Once this fire was lit, putting it out again wouldn’t be easy.
The inner palace had been as good as deserted for months. Though this was in part due to national affairs, and also because the emperor had never been overly indulgent in bedroom matters—strong in body, but mild in interest—still, he’d never abstained this long. Now that Su Yan had finally returned to the capital, the emperor had been hesitant, cautious, probing—never making a bold move.
Lan Xi was anxious, even contemplating old tricks: liquor, incense, and locking the hall doors.
Now, finally, the emperor’s heart was stirred. After such a long drought, his desire about to be fulfilled—of course Lan Xi expected to be credited for it. As for Su Yan, that boy might have been blind to the signs before, but now? He’d have no choice but to climb onto the dragon bed. Once it was done, Lan Xi would scold him a little, vent his own frustration, and then offer enough kindness to turn the kid into a reliable ally in court—what a win-win.
Lan Gonggong calculated all the benefits to be gained, feeling that any further effort on his part would be well worth it.
Just then, the emperor asked casually, “How are the preparations for the Aoshan Lantern Festival coming along?”
Lan Xi quickly pulled his thoughts back and replied, “All ready, Your Majesty. In a few days, it will be the Lantern Festival. Will Your Majesty, as in previous years, attend the celebration at Meridian Gate to mingle with the people?”
The emperor nodded. “As usual.” Then he ordered, “Summon all fourth-rank and higher officials in the capital to attend the lantern festival. No absences without urgent reason.”
Lan Xi thought of the Shaoqing of the Dali Temple who happened to be of the fourth rank, and he was overjoyed. “I’ll make sure the order is delivered precisely!”
—
Su Yan exited the inner palace through the Jingyun Gate on foot, rubbing his sore legs as he looked around for an official’s carriage or a supply cart that might give him a lift.
Just then, a luxurious carriage approached from the outer court—lacquered crimson canopy, celestial wheels, adorned with golden dragon heads, tails, and gilded leaves. Clearly, this was a crown prince’s ceremonial vehicle.
And there was only one crown prince in the capital—precisely the one Su Yan least wanted to see.
He immediately turned on his heel, hugging the wall as he slipped away, not even waiting for a convenient ride.
The vermilion-lacquered carriage came to a halt. From within, someone lifted the curtain and called out sternly, “Su Yan!”
Su Yan pretended not to hear and quickened his pace.
Only after turning the corner and leaving the carriage’s occupant’s line of sight did he finally let out a breath, stopping to wipe the thin sheen of sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.
A handkerchief was suddenly offered to him.
Su Yan took it casually while saying, “Thank you, kind—” But as he raised his head and saw the person’s face, his hand slackened, and the handkerchief fluttered to the ground.
Before it could land, Yu Wang caught it and handed it back again. “It’s yours.”
Su Yan was momentarily stunned: the pattern was familiar, and the corner bore a small embroidered “Su”— Xiaobei’s handiwork. It was his, though he had no idea how it ended up in the other’s hands…
Yu Wang said, “You’ve forgotten? Half a year ago at Lingguang Temple, Wei Jun recruited a gang of outlaws and mistook us for assassins. I shielded you from an arrow and injured my hand. You wrapped the wound with this handkerchief.”
Su Yan recalled the incident—yes, it had happened.
Back then, Yu Wang had fought alone against many with remarkable valor. If he hadn’t tried to intercept a whistling arrow with his bare hands, he wouldn’t have been so gravely injured, needing dozens of stitches, inside and out—and all without anesthetic.
Now that Yu Wang was bringing up past heroics as a favor owed, Su Yan couldn’t continue wearing a frosty expression. He took back the handkerchief and tucked it into his robe, cupped his hands politely and said, “Thank you, Wangye, for saving me back then. I have official duties to attend to, so I’ll take my leave.” With that, he tried to step around him to the right.
Yu Wang moved left to block him.
Su Yan switched direction to the left.
Yu Wang shifted two steps to the right.
Su Yan lost his patience. With a wary glare, he asked, “Broad daylight, heavily guarded palace grounds—what exactly are you trying to do, Wangye?”
Yu Wang said, “It’s been a while. I wanted to see you.”
Su Yan: “…”
We literally just saw each other on the 26th day of the twelfth month, and he’d shamelessly dumped his heir on me in the middle of the market like some unwanted burden. It’s only been ten days—what’s with this fake display of longing?
Su Yan said, “You’ve seen the front now, haven’t you? If you want the back, take your time.” He turned smartly and strode away the way he’d come.
Unfortunately, he didn’t get far before a blur of deep purple brocade with coiling dragon embroidery blocked his path again.
Su Yan frowned and asked through clenched teeth, “Wangye, what do you want?”
Yu Wang was silent for a moment before answering, “I want you to look at me too.”
Su Yan: “…”
Look at your d*mn self, lunatic!
Rage bubbled up inside him. He stared at Yu Wang angrily—and suddenly noticed how haggard he looked. His eyelids were darkened, eyes bloodshot, sockets slightly sunken, making his cheekbones stand out. A face that once scored nine out of ten now barely scr*ped a seven.
“Are you on drugs?” Su Yan retorted sharply for once. “Because you look like someone who lives in Chaoyang District.”
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