That night, Su Yan slept restlessly.
In the first half of the night, his sleep was light and full of dreams. In the dream, a blurred figure stood by a window, always facing away. He wanted to step forward and embrace him, but each time he moved, he awoke—over and over again.
In the latter half, he simply couldn’t sleep at all, tossing and turning in bed.
The bed warmer had gone cold, his feet were freezing. Ah Zhui hadn’t come back yet—he worried. Government affairs were endless—he was annoyed. Qilang was being tightly watched—it was frustrating…
Su Yan gave himself many reasons. His mind was a stampede of wild horses. Finally, he managed to endure until the third watch, then got up, dressed, and washed.
Aside from holidays, court convened at Fengtian Gate every day. To ensure Lord Su could make it on time, Xiao Jing and Xiao Bei were used to rising early and were already cooking breakfast. With nothing to do, Su Yan went into the courtyard to practice his only martial move—Mandarin Duck Kick Beneath the Leaves—by kicking the tree trunk.
Court session was uneventful. The censors who’d previously petitioned to punish the crown prince all developed sudden amnesia. Other than the usual matters from the Six Ministries, only two things stood out:
One: The emperor issued an order to send a diplomatic mission to Oirat with a formal letter in response. Departure was scheduled for three days later.
Two: Yu Wang—who never attended court—actually arrived earlier than most officials.
Su Yan ran into him on the Golden Water Bridge. Yu Wang wore ceremonial attire Su Yan hadn’t seen before: a nine-fold leather hat adorned with colorful jade beads, and a deep red gauze robe, holding a white jade scepter. He looked strikingly dignified.
They had only just torn into each other outside the palace, declaring things “settled.” Now meeting again, the moment was awkward. Su Yan hesitated, wondering if he should avoid him, but Yu Wang had already approached. He had no choice but to bow and greet him: “Peace to Your Highness, Yu Wang.”
All the while worried—on this crowded bridge filled with court officials—please don’t say anything outrageous.
But Yu Wang only nodded, replying solemnly, “Su Shaoqing.” Then turned and walked away.
…That’s it? Not even a single flirtation? Su Yan stared at his back in disbelief.
That said, Yu Wang looked much better—no trace of exhaustion or despair in his eyes, and his handsomeness restored. Even that ever-present air of lazy, decadent mischief seemed to have vanished like clouds blown away by wind.
Su Yan thought to himself that Yu Wang was probably no longer under the influence of the soul-bewitching flute. Fuyin had suffered internal injuries and was now being closely watched by Ah Zhui—likely too preoccupied to act. It was also possible that Yu Wang had started investigating suspects within his own residence, forcing Fuyin to withdraw and lie low.
Su Yan actually wanted to sound Yu Wang out, to understand the current situation in the prince’s manor, and to speculate whether Fuyin had any accomplices. He also wished to subtly warn him. But the prince left so decisively that Su Yan couldn’t find an opportunity to speak, and so he temporarily gave up.
After court was dismissed, Su Yan went to the Northern Surveillance Bureau Prison.
Deep in the dungeon, the jailer opened the cell door. Su Yan stepped into Yan Chengxue’s cell, followed by four imperial guards brimming with killing intent.
Yan Chengxue was revising a page densely covered in writing. When he looked up and saw Su Yan’s cold expression—and one of the guards carrying a wooden tray with half a cup of wine on it—his face instantly turned ashen.
The tip of his trembling brush dropped a blot of ink onto the paper. He took a deep breath, set down his brush, and stood up. His expression was bleak, almost deathly calm. “His Majesty still wants me dead?”
Su Yan showed a trace of regret and replied, “A secret report came from the border: the Oirats are sharpening their blades and preparing to march south soon. His Majesty has decided to use your head to buy us some time to prepare for war.”
“Half of this war is my fault. Using my head as a war banner is only fitting.” Yan Chengxue pressed his bloodless lips together and bowed. “Thank you, Censor Su, for seeing me off.”
Facing death, he seemed calmer than ever—no longer caustic, no longer sharp-tongued.
“I’m willing to die, but I have one request. I hope Censor Su will grant it.”
“Speak.”
“Don’t let old Huo know. Just tell him I was sent on another mission. Let him stay focused in Ye Bu Shou. Perhaps there will be a day we meet again.”
Su Yan said, “Isn’t it wrong to deceive him like this? Besides, he might not be fooled.”
Yan Chengxue gave a bitter smile. “Even if I can fool him for a while, that’s something. By the time he realizes the truth, the moment will have passed. Time is the best medicine for dulling grief.”
Su Yan nodded. “I’ll grant your request.”
The guard carrying the wooden tray stepped forward.
“I chose a potent poison. It’ll kill you the moment it hits your throat. Less pain,” Su Yan said.
Yan Chengxue bowed again. Without another word, he picked up the wine cup and drank it in one gulp.
The liquid was extremely bitter. It numbed the base of his tongue and burned all the way down to his stomach, causing searing pain. As he fell back with his sleeves billowing, a dim memory stirred in his hazy mind—an old nursery rhyme from his childhood village:
“When the Tartars come, great fires blaze,
Burning shanties crack and roar.
Father’s gone, mother’s gone,
Even babes in their beds are taken away.”
Yes… he should have died back then, buried with his family in the scorched earth of his village. But he had survived alone for more than a decade. He should’ve left this world long ago…
—
The howling wind and snow drew closer, interwoven with faint voices calling his name, growing clearer.
“Old Yan… Old Yan…”
Yan Chengxue suddenly opened his eyes and stared blankly at the overcast sky.
Huo Dun’s face loomed into his view, excited. “Old Yan, you’re awake!”
With Huo Dun’s help, he slowly sat up and realized he was on a moving flatbed cart. Looking back, the capital had long faded into the distance.
The coachman, wearing a bamboo hat, spoke in a thick Shanxi accent: “All the carriages with compartments are taken. Just make do with the flatbed for now. We’ll see if we can switch at the next relay station.”
“I’m… still alive?” Yan Chengxue muttered.
“Of course you are. You just slept like the dead, and it took forever to wake you,” Huo Dun replied.
Yan Chengxue recalled the poisoned wine and quickly realized—Su Yan had deliberately scared him. He’d been completely tricked.
He reached into his robe and pulled out an appointment letter, a commander’s waist token, and a slip of paper. The note read:
“You two are heading to the northern border to join the Ye Bu Shou unit at Xuanfu. Follow orders. From now on, there is no turning back in this life of blades and blood. Do your best to survive.”
Yan Chengxue stared blankly for a moment, then let out a cold laugh. “That Su Yan… now I really owe him my life.”
Huo Dun added, “Lord Su asked me to pass on a message. He said your life wasn’t saved by him, but earned by yourself. If you’d begged for your life in the prison, that sleeping draught would have truly been poison. ‘Ye Bu Shou has no traitors—and not a single coward.’ He told you to write those words in your training manual.”
Yan Chengxue opened the appointment letter and saw the new name written inside: “Lou Yexue.”
“Lou boats in night snow at Guazhou crossing;
Iron horses and autumn winds at Great Scatter Pass.
The long wall above the frontier is but a vain promise,
While in the mirror, gray hairs already stain the temples…“
He recited softly, “From this day forward, there is no Yan Chengxue in the world—only Lou Yexue.”
Huo Dun scratched his head. “Then I can’t call you Old Yan anymore… Old Lou? Doesn’t sound right… Old Ye? That works—Old Ye it is!”
The horse-drawn flatbed rolled away in the cold wind, slowly turning into a tiny black dot at the edge of heaven and earth.
—
“You just let Yan Chengxue go like that? Aren’t you afraid His Majesty will hold you accountable?” In the flower hall of the Northern Surveillance Bureau Bureau, Shen Qi placed a steaming bowl of Eight-Treasure Stew on the table in front of Su Yan.
Su Yan took several big sips of the mutton broth enriched with huangjiu. It was fragrant and rich. He pushed aside the yam and lotus root slices with his chopsticks, picking out the meatballs and quail eggs as he said, “His Majesty tacitly agreed. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have told me to fetch Yan Chengxue’s head. His Majesty knows I want to polish and use him.”
Shen Qi brought his own bowl and sat to eat with Su Yan. He pushed his meatballs and quail eggs into Su Yan’s bowl, and in return picked out Su Yan’s yams and lotus root.
“You’re sending a scholarly official who can’t even kill a chicken into Ye Bu Shou. Isn’t that just sending him to his death?”
“Yan Chengxue is a venomous snake full of cunning. He’s not that easy to kill. Besides, he has Huo Dun by his side.” Su Yan looked up from his bowl at the highly skilled Shen Qi of the Embroidered Guards. “By the way, what’s your issue with ‘scholarly officials who can’t even kill a chicken’?”
Shen Qi chuckled, no longer teasing. “If that scholar is surnamed Su, then I have no complaints. In fact, I’d let him go all out however he likes.”
Su Yan gave a small snort and buried his head back in his soup. In the rising steam, the tips of his ears were faintly red.
Last time in the Imperial Prison, he used Huo Dun’s life to win over Yan Chengxue, intending to send both of them into the Ye Bu Shou. Yan Chengxue asked, since the Oirats had named him specifically and demanded his head, how did Censor Su plan to resolve it? He replied—”I have my own way.”
That was when Su Yan conceived of the plan to substitute one person for another.
He sought help from Shen Qi, and through the help of Embroidered Uniform Guard spies, he sent Yan Chengxue’s portrait to prisons in various provinces, searching for a serious criminal who bore a resemblance.
After nearly a month, they finally found a death row inmate in Qingzhou Prefecture, Shandong, who looked about 60-70% alike. The Embroidered Uniform Guard secretly escorted him to the capital.
After beheading, the head was treated with lime and saltpeter, then sent a long way to the Oirats. It was natural that the facial features would deform slightly and look a bit different from life. Besides, the only Oirats who had seen Yan Chengxue up close were Aletan’s guards—most had been killed by wolves, and the few survivors disappeared with Aletan. Even if the shaman Heiduo came in person, distinguishing real from fake would be nearly impossible.
The justice Huokuoli demanded was already attached to the imperial letter and sent over. From now on, the identity of Yan Chengxue would be completely erased from Great Ming. If the emperor said the head in the box was him, then it was.
Su Yan finished the soup, put down his chopsticks, and solemnly said to Shen Qi, “Thank you, Qilang.”
“Put it on your tab,” Shen Qi said, showing the bite mark on his hand. “Pay me back with interest later—I’ll be waiting.”
Su Yan glared at the bite mark, certain he hadn’t bitten that deep—it must have been that crazy spymaster himself, biting his own hand. Nine out, thirteen back, interest on interest—if he didn’t run a loan shark business, it’d be a waste!
After rinsing his mouth with water, he said, “I have to go.”
Shen Qi tried to keep him: “It’s still early, there’s time to go back later.”
Su Yan replied, “I’m not going home, but going to visit Minister Li.”
“Li Chengfeng?” Shen Qi considered. “That makes sense. He’s nominally your grand-mentor and also the Grand Secretary of the Cabinet. Keeping close with him will benefit your future career.”
“It’s not just about clinging to power,” Su Yan tapped the table with his fingertip. “The Emperor summoned me today, and at the end suddenly said, ‘Make time to visit Grand Secretary Li.’ There’s definitely meaning behind those words. I suspect it’s related to the Crown Prince.”
He rose and donned his cloak. Before leaving, he turned back and smiled. “No need to see me off. Go on, enjoy your soup.”
Shen Qi noticed the four imperial guards still waiting at the steps and frowned. “How long are they planning to follow you?”
Su Yan sighed. “Until Ah Zhui comes back, I’ll ask the Emperor to let me keep these Four Heavenly Kings. Having them shadow me all day is just too stifling.”
“Jinghong Zhui still hasn’t returned? That useless dimwit—did he elope with Fuyin or something?”
“—Qilang.”
Shen Qi raised an eyebrow. “Fine, I’ll shut up. You go.”
He watched Su Yan disappear through the courtyard gate, then turned and sat back down at the table. He poured the rest of Su Yan’s half-finished soup into his own bowl, then picked up a crisp lotus root slice and slowly chewed it to bits between his teeth.
Crunch. Crunch.
It sounded like the dismembering of a body.
“…I’ll trade you a colossal secret.”
“This secret could upend heaven and earth. It might bring you immense disaster—or unparalleled opportunity. Depends whether you have the guts to hear it.”
“…No emperor can tolerate someone who knows his secrets. The moment you heard this secret, I’d already pulled you into the mud.”
“You can report it to His Majesty and live in constant fear of being silenced one day. Or, you can keep working with Ning Wang. If he truly rises, and rewards are handed out, you’ll be a founding contributor—a Duke at the very least.”
Feng Que’s ghostly voice leaned in from behind, cold and hoarse in his ear:
“If you were truly unmoved, why did you wait until I said the contact’s name before leaving the interrogation chamber?”
