The imperial entourage had returned hastily to the palace, leaving behind a dark silver cloak trimmed with black sable, a gift meant to keep Minister Su warm.
Su Yan walked down the tower steps, the imperial cloak draped over his arm, still slightly dazed.
Just now with the Emperor… how did it end up with a kiss? Was it the mood of the moment, or had he really felt something? And they almost went further—if not for the sudden interruption, who knows what would’ve happened… If I had kept resisting, would he have respected my wishes, or would he have given up on his principles?
Tch. And he had the nerve to say, “Even if you’re naked, I wouldn’t bother touching you.” Not only was I fully clothed, I even had an extra layer on—so what was that thing pressing against my backside just now, a mallet?
Su Yan once again felt a sense of danger. He realized he shouldn’t place too much faith in the Emperor’s self-control. Emperor Jinglong may be a rare, disciplined and virtuous ruler—but he’s still a man. No way he’s completely free of impulse. It’d be best to avoid ambiguous and intimate situations with him from now on.
The square was still brightly lit and festive. After the brief chaos, the crowd returned to normal. After all, to the common people, the imperial palace was a distant, untouchable world. Even if a fire broke out, there were always soldiers to handle it.
After walking a few dozen steps, Su Yan suddenly spotted Shen Qi standing not far off in the glow of the lanterns, his gaze piercing through the crowd and fixing on him.
That gaze was like a lone lantern in the dark night, a faint shadow in the sea of light. Su Yan instinctively quickened his pace toward him, no longer caring if the four imperial guards secretly protecting him might see.
Without hesitation, he grasped Shen Qi’s hand and called softly, “Qilang.”
Shen Qi rubbed the back of his hand with his thumb, his gaze sweeping over the cloak draped on Su Yan’s arm, and asked in a low voice, “Are you alright?”
Su Yan knew what he was referring to and felt a bit guilty. He answered, “I’m fine. By the way, I saw the palace fire from the tower. Which hall was it?”
Shen Qi replied, “That’s not clear yet.”
Why did the fire break out at such a convenient time? Su Yan stared at Shen Qi, a questioning look in his eyes.
Shen Qi gave a small shake of his head, indicating he had nothing to do with it.
If Shen Qi says it wasn’t him, then it wasn’t. Palace buildings were made of wood and easily caught fire, especially tonight with lanterns everywhere—maybe it really was just an accident.
The two walked side by side toward Jinshui Bridge, talking as they moved. “I heard you’ve been investigating the eight-petal blood lotus mark these past few days. Any progress?”
Shen Qi said, “It involves Hidden Sword Sect assassins, so we suspected a connection with martial arts sects. The North Surveillance Bureau compared the symbol with various sect emblems and ruled out the ones with similar patterns. So far, we haven’t found any leads.”
“…What if it’s not from the martial world?” Su Yan thought aloud. “Ah Zhui told me some stories about the Hidden Sword Sect and the Seven Kill Camp. I think the Seven Kill Camp is worth digging into.”
“How so?”
“Let me put it this way. Imagine there’s a race of insectoids in the vast universe.”
“Insectoids?”
“Yeah.”
“What kind? Locusts? Ants? Mantises?”
“Doesn’t matter what kind. The point is, they’re evil, alien creatures. Their structure is fascinating. Countless fast-moving individual bugs form a swarm army. They invade enemy territory, to hunt or kill. But each individual bug has no brain.”
“No brain? You mean they’re dumb?”
“No, I mean literally no brain. They have no capacity to think. But that doesn’t mean the insectoids lack intelligence. Each bug is like a claw, a blade, completely controlled and directed by the brain bug. The brain bug rarely ventures out—it stays in the hive. But it possesses powerful consciousness and links all the individuals together.”
“What you’re describing is bizarre and surreal—like something out of a fantasy.” Shen Qi said. “No offense, but it kind of reminds me of… Thousand-Armed Guanyin.”
Su Yan chuckled. “That’s actually not far off. One brain controlling countless mindless bodies. I think the Hidden Sword Sect’s assassins are like those individual bugs, and the Seven Kill Camp is the hive.
“The Hidden Sword Sect recruits disciples from all over, usually desperate commoners or disaster survivors. After initial training, they’re sent to the Seven Kill Camp, where they’re tested and filtered. Only the strong survive. Those who make it are stripped of their humanity in training and become obedient assassins, taking orders only from the Camp Master.”
Shen Qi understood. “The Camp Master is the brain bug.”
Su Yan nodded, appreciating how easy it was to talk with someone sharp.
“Then the blood lotus mark—could it be a way for the ‘bug individuals’ to recognize each other? If we catch the escaped Camp Master, we could uncover their purpose and network, and uproot the whole hive.”
“I’m afraid it won’t be that simple.” Su Yan sighed. “Above the brain bug is the Overlord—the true core of power. The Overlord hides in the shadows, enormous, highly intelligent, and manipulative. The brain bug is just a tool to help it control the swarm. There may be more than one hive, more than one brain bug, but there’s only ever one Overlord.”
“Who is the Overlord?” Shen Qi asked.
Su Yan spread his hands. “Even Ah Zhui doesn’t know what the brain bug—or rather, the Camp Master—looks like. Says the Camp Master always wore a red robe from head to toe, a bronze mask, and black leather gloves that covered even the fingertips. Their voice was neither male nor female.”
“If we send Jinghong Zhui back, could he find the Seven Kill Camp’s base?”
Su Yan suddenly stopped walking and looked at Shen Qi seriously. “I won’t let him go.”
“Why not?” Shen Qi’s expression remained calm, but his hands behind his back clenched into fists.
“First, the court has already destroyed the Hidden Sword Sect and is still hunting the remnants. The Seven Kill Camp is closely tied to it and can’t possibly be at peace. When Fuyin tried to defect to Ah Zhui, he said, ‘Those in the camp who were clearly linked to the Hidden Sword Sect are already dead. The rest have gone into hiding. The Camp Master is nowhere to be found, but I know he’s still alive—maybe gathering the scattered assassins, lying low and biding his time.’”
“A cunning rabbit has three burrows—perhaps the Seven Kill Camp has other hidden bases. Jinghong Zhui came from there, after all. If we send him to search, he might be able to blend in with the regrouping remnants and infiltrate the camp, finding the leader’s whereabouts.”
Su Yan shook his head firmly. “Qilang, I’m sorry, but I can’t agree. True, it’s a sharp tactic—minimal sacrifice for maximum gain. That’s your style, Shen Qi, but it’s not mine.”
“My second point is this: to me, Ah Zhui is not just a guard—he’s family, someone bound to me by life and death. I won’t treat him like a tool. Knowing the road ahead is perilous, I will not send him to risk his life for me. That goes against my principles.”
“Only your principles? Not because you care about him… because you can’t bear to lose him?” Shen Qi pressed, gritting his teeth. “What do you mean by ‘family’? How is that any different from ‘brother’—like you and me?”
A pang of guilt, confusion, and sharp pain surged through Su Yan’s heart, but his resolve did not waver. He took a deep breath and said solemnly, “If our roles were reversed—if you, Shen Qi, had been born into Hidden Sword Sect—then no matter who asked me, even if it were the emperor himself, I would rather die than agree.”
Shen Qi was shaken to the core. He grabbed Su Yan’s wrist. “Don’t say such foolish things! What do you mean, ‘rather die’? Even if it’s just a risk, even if it were certain death, I wouldn’t let you sacrifice yourself! That applies to Jinghong Zhui too—and to me as well!”
Su Yan placed his hand over Shen Qi’s and smiled faintly. “You both have been willing to risk your lives for me—so why wouldn’t I do the same for you?
“I was once just a lingering soul of this world, reborn into this life. To meet you, to meet Ah Zhui, and to be treated sincerely by you both—how fortunate am I? Because of fate’s strange twists, our lives and futures are now entwined. Losing you would be like tearing out my heart. Sacrificing him would be like cutting off my limbs. If disaster truly strikes, then I will be born with you—and die with you.”
It was the first time Shen Qi had ever heard Su Yan speak so earnestly about life and death, even if it included someone else.
Su Yan was easily moved by kindness and easily softened by loyalty. From their earliest days, their relationship had gone from reluctant compliance to Su Yan now voluntarily leaning closer. Was this truly his heartfelt affection? Shen Qi had tried many times to get a straight answer, but this little scoundrel always dodged. In bed, he’d whisper all kinds of shameless things in moments of passion, but afterward, he’d return to his “righteous brotherhood” facade—much to Shen Qi’s frustration.
Now, Su Yan had finally revealed his true heart—he wanted to be with him forever, through life and death. How could Shen Qi not be overjoyed?
—As for that extra “unnecessary person,” that wouldn’t be too hard to deal with. Like an unwanted growth on the skin, it just needed to be sliced off at the right time. As long as Su Yan never found out it was his doing, everything would be fine. Su Yan might grieve for a while, but with him by his side, the wound would eventually heal.
Shen Qi’s eyes glinted with resolution. He nodded. “Since you don’t agree, I’ll find another way. Doesn’t he have a junior brother?”
Su Yan nodded. “Fuyin. Ah Zhui’s keeping an eye on him. I suspect the person in contact with Fuyin, the one giving orders—even if it’s not the camp leader—must be closely tied to the Seven Kill Camp. If we trace that person, we may capture them all at once.”
As they spoke, the two had exited the Great Ming Gate and were walking down the central avenue of the Inner City toward Zhengyang Gate.
“It’s already the fourth watch. We’ve been up all night. Let’s head home and get some rest. Tomorrow’s court session is in the afternoon. If I don’t adjust my sleep schedule, I’ll miss the early morning court the day after, and end up getting flogged.” Su Yan joked, “But I suppose you don’t have that problem. Word around the Censorate is that you never even take annual leave—you’re the model civil servant. I should start calling you Comrade Shen the Workhorse.”
Workhorse? Shen Qi smiled and said nothing. He called over the Northern Surveillance carriage parked at the street corner to take Su Yan home.
As Su Yan was getting in, Shen Qi, under the pretense of helping him up, slipped his fingers into Su Yan’s sleeve and scratched his wrist lightly.
Su Yan recognized it instantly—it was a response to when he’d secretly tickled Shen Qi under the table in the Northern Surveillance Office a few days prior. Unable to hold back a grin, he traced a heart in Shen Qi’s palm with great care.
What does that mean? Shen Qi asked with his eyes.
Guess. Su Yan smiled as he lifted the curtain and climbed into the carriage.
By the time Su Xiaobei and Su Xiaojing returned from the lantern festival, they had already prepared hot water for his bath and tidied his bed. But Jinghong Zhui had yet to return.
Even after he extinguished the lamp and lay down, Su Yan hadn’t heard a word from his guard. He guessed Ah Zhui was still dutifully tracking Fuyin, or perhaps investigating that strange brothel he mentioned earlier. If he found anything, he’d surely come back immediately.
Su Yan drifted into a shallow sleep—only to be woken suddenly by a knock at the door.
Fu Bao’s voice came from outside. “Lord Su! Lord Su!”
Su Yan quickly threw on a robe and went to open the door. Outside stood Su Xiaobei and Fu Bao, dressed in plain clothes.
Su Xiaobei looked uneasy. “I told Fubao Gonggong that you’d just fallen asleep an hour ago, but he insisted—”
“It’s alright,” Su Yan said, turning to Fu Bao. “Did the Crown Prince send for me?”
Fu Bao nodded urgently. “Young Master has been punished and sent to kneel in the Imperial Ancestral Temple. He told me to find you the moment the palace gates opened.”
“What happened?” Su Yan asked, alarmed.
Fu Bao lowered his voice. “A huge fire broke out last night—burned down the entire Kunning Palace!”
“Kunning Palace!” Su Yan gasped. “Isn’t that the late Empress’s —?”
Fu Bao’s eyes reddened as he nodded. “Yes. Young Master lost control and tried to charge into the flames to save her relics, but the eunuchs held him back. It turns out the fire started because the palace maids left their posts, and the eunuch in charge of the charcoal brazier fell asleep. The water source was frozen solid, and no one could draw water in time. The entire main hall was reduced to ashes. In his fury, Young Master killed three people on the spot. Later, the Emperor arrived and took him to Yangxin Hall. No one knows what they spoke of—but after that, Young Master was sent to kneel in the Ancestral Temple. There’s no word on how long he must remain there.”
Su Yan drew a sharp breath. “This doesn’t sit right—too many coincidences. It’s clearly aimed at the Crown Prince. I’ll go to the temple right away.”
Fu Bao said, “The carriage is waiting outside. It’s cold—you should take a cloak.”
Su Yan returned to the bedside and dressed neatly. Before leaving, he thought for a moment, then put on the cloak bestowed by the Emperor and left the residence, boarding the carriage that sped toward the Imperial Ancestral Temple.
