Su Yan had a small bowl of vegetable egg congee and fell asleep leaning on the rim of the bath barrel during his bath.
When Su Xiaojing came in to add more hot water and saw him sleeping deeply, he asked Su Xiaobei, “Should we wake the lord? Any later and he’ll miss morning court.”
Xiaobei replied, “His head was spinning so badly, vomiting the whole way home—what morning court? Just call in sick!”
The two of them worked together to lift Lord Su out of the tub, dried him off, changed him into sleepwear, and tucked him under the covers. Midway, Su Yan woke briefly, glanced at his two attendants, mumbled something contentedly, and fell back asleep.
Perhaps his concussed brain also wanted deeper rest—he slept a full six hours. When Su Yan slowly woke, his eyes stared blankly at the canopy overhead, not knowing what day or time it was.
He dazed out for a while and sighed: “I, the great ancestor, have slept for five hundred years. Who would have thought that upon waking, the world would be overturned, spiritual energy gone, and no cultivators left to shatter the void? I wonder what became of the Dao sect I founded back then.”
He rolled over, still hugging the quilt, and sighed again: “The apocalypse is here, zombies surround the city. Going outside is certain death, but hiding at home might not last long either. What’s the use of the ancestral jade pendant with its inner realm and spirit spring? Should I try scattering a handful of seeds?”
“—So then, should I call you ‘Master Immortal’ or ‘Farmer’?” came a sudden voice.
Startled, Su Yan jerked his head toward the source of the voice—only to see a man standing in his bedchamber, gently touching the petals of the orchid by the window.
It was Emperor Jinglong in plainclothes.
He didn’t even know when the emperor arrived. He had noticed nothing—only to be caught saying those ridiculous things after just waking up. Su Yan was mortified and buried his head in the blankets like an ostrich.
The emperor chuckled softly, walked over, and sat at the edge of the bed. He patted the bulging quilt. “Come on out, stop hiding. When Helin was little, he used to drag eunuchs and maids into playing Romance of the Three Kingdoms, and would chase after ministers shouting, ‘Big-eared bandit, don’t flee! Dare to duel this lord?’ He made way more noise than you.”
“You just said it yourself—that was when His Highness was a child,” Su Yan said, even more embarrassed, curling up into a ball and refusing to come out.
Maybe it was the childish air that infected the emperor, but he mischievously slipped his hand under the quilt and reached under Su Yan’s nightclothes.
His fingers were still cold from being outside in the February chill. The icy touch made Su Yan squirm and laugh, finally tossing off the blanket and saying, “Alright, alright, I give up. I surrender.”
He tried to get out of bed and get dressed, but the emperor pushed him gently back onto the pillow.
“Just lie down. I heard there was an explosion in the underground tunnel last night—you were injured.”
“I just got a bit dizzy from the blast. It’s nothing. After sleeping, I feel much better.”
But Su Yan insisted on getting up. After putting on a robe, he at least compromised by stuffing a quilt behind him to sit upright at the headboard.
He then recounted the events at Linhua Pavilion in detail. In the end, he said, “I suspect the person who set off the gunpowder last night is the same one who used the fire at Kunning Palace for mischief earlier.”
The emperor nodded slightly. “The one you call the player.”
“Yes. I blame myself for being careless and losing a move last night,” Su Yan said bitterly. “Did Your Majesty go to Baizhifang to investigate in disguise? How is the situation?”
The emperor let out a heavy sigh.
At the third watch last night, explosions shook the palace walls. He received a series of urgent reports. First came the news from his personal guards: Linhua Pavilion’s secret tunnel had exploded, causing a surface collapse. Fortunately, Yu Wang, Shen Qi, and Su Yan—who had been chasing a criminal—were all alive and mostly unharmed.
Then came the Embroidered Uniform Guards’ report: The Ministry of War’s gunpowder depot had exploded. Baizhifang was engulfed in flames, casualties unknown.
Then, another message from the Ministry of War: Troops from the city’s Five City Military Command were all dispatched to fight the fire.
The emperor quickly summoned the cabinet ministers and the heads of the Ministry of War, Ministry of Works, and Ministry of Revenue for emergency meetings. He also assigned a city inspector to lead the investigation. As a result, morning court was canceled, and all key personnel were dispatched to the site.
The scale of the explosion was unprecedented. The emperor, still uneasy, left the palace in plainclothes at dawn to see for himself.
He saw black smoke blotting out the sky, the day as dark as night. Collapsed homes stretched endlessly—within two or three miles, everything was reduced to ruins. Civilian casualties were countless. Severed limbs, crushed heads, and broken bodies littered the streets. The horror defied description.
Hearing this, Su Yan’s heart sank. He said solemnly, “We must immediately isolate any flammable or explosive materials to prevent further chain blasts. Rescue survivors trapped in the rubble, treat the injured, and properly shelter the refugees.”
The emperor replied, “The heads of the three ministries have already started work. Temples and Taoist halls nearby have opened their doors to house the displaced. The garrison issued an emergency conscription order to summon all city physicians. In addition to medicine, food, water, and bedding supplies are being tallied by the Ministry of Revenue and drawn from the treasury—or solicited from merchants.”
Su Yan finally let out a half-breath of relief. He added, “Even though it’s cold, we must watch for disease outbreaks. The bodies of the dead and any dead livestock must be cleared quickly to avoid water or air contamination.”
“You’re right. I’ll have a batch of soldiers from the capital forces assigned to handle corpse cleanup. But many of the victims are unrecognizable—some not even in one piece. Those who can’t be identified will have to be cremated together.”
Su Yan nodded. “Then I’ve no further suggestions. What I must do now is force the player behind all this into the light—before they can devise something even more vicious. To throw the masses into h*ll for personal gain—such heartlessness! As long as this person lives, I will not rest, and this knot in my heart will not be untied!”
The emperor rubbed Su Yan’s shoulder in a soothing gesture. “Do you have any guesses as to this person’s identity?”
“I still don’t know who he is, but I suspect that several individuals and forces are closely connected to him.”
“Go on.”
“First is the leader of the Seven Kill Camp. Although Hidden Sword Sect was destroyed, that was only what was shown on the surface—like a gecko’s tail, to be discarded when necessary. The internal core is the Seven Kill Camp. The leader is still alive, and many assassins remain in hiding under his control. We cannot afford to lower our guard.
“The camp seems to use a blood lotus with eight petals as a secret signal. But when I went underground last night and saw what they called their ‘Mingtang,’ I felt something was off. That blood lotus symbol seems to be more than just a means of contact…”
“Mingtang?” The emperor gave a cold laugh. “It seems they’re not only bold, but ambitious.”
Su Yan said, “I believe we must first uncover their motive in order to deduce their intentions. If it really was the leader of an assassin camp who set fire to Kunning Palace and blew up the munitions depot—what does he want from plunging the empire into chaos? Is it a grudge of blood and hatred against Great Ming, or does he covet some national treasure?”
“I feel there’s a missing link between his identity and his objective. Until we fill in that blank, we won’t be able to grasp the true face of this ‘player.’”
The emperor pondered for a moment, then asked, “Just now you said ‘several individuals and forces.’ Who else?”
Su Yan gave the emperor a long, meaningful look. “I dare not say.”
“What, do you want me to say, ‘I pardon you—speak freely’? Fine, you have it.”
“I still don’t dare. I’m afraid of angering Your Majesty. Words alone don’t count.”
“…”
The emperor pulled a small cylindrical personal seal from his sleeve and tossed it into Su Yan’s lap. “Take this as proof. Seal it yourself.”
The jade seal was made of the highest-grade mutton-fat white jade—warm and flawless. The seal head bore the carved characters: “Jin Zuo.”
Su Yan’s first reaction: Holy cr*p, the emperor’s personal seal! A priceless cultural artifact, an heirloom treasure!
Then he thought: Who the h*ll would I pass this down to?
Besides, five hundred years from now, even the bowl I used would be considered an antique! Even if it’s worth millions, I’ll be long gone to enjoy it.
The jade felt too good in hand. Rubbing the three-inch-long, two-finger-thick seal, Su Yan thickened his skin and said, “So Your Majesty is giving this to me?”
The emperor chuckled and scolded, “It’s to set your mind at ease when speaking. And you? You want to run off with it? This is the emperor’s seal—do you dare use it?”
Seeing the emperor wasn’t angry, Su Yan grew bolder. “If this were one of the Twenty-Four Imperial Seals—like ‘Treasure of Heaven’s Mandate’ or ‘Treasure of the Emperor’—I wouldn’t dare touch it even if you beat me. But ‘Jin Zuo’…” He lowered his gaze to the seal, softly speaking the name—at once lofty and close at hand. A kind of dreamy intoxication overtook him. “Can I really not use it?”
The Emperor Jinglong suddenly realized—Su Yan wasn’t angling for a reward. He was probing.
Su Yan wanted to know: Outside of the emperor’s identity, could he still be just Zhu Jinzuo—with no titles, no taboos—just Jinzuo?
Not equal in power, but equal in spirit.
The emperor was silent for a moment. Then said, “Keep it.”
Su Yan, holding the jade seal, looked at him with eyes both clear and profound. He neither refused nor expressed gratitude.
The emperor added, “I’m not quite… used to this yet. But I will be. Just keep it.”
Su Yan smiled. “I’ll return the favor.”
“No need. I already received your gift a long time ago.”
A long time ago? Su Yan searched his memory but couldn’t recall, so he let it go.
He tucked the seal inside his robes. “In that case, I’ll speak freely—
“The second party is the Wei family. Or rather, the Empress Dowager.”
The emperor’s fingers clenched on the hardwood bed edge, but he didn’t immediately reply.
Su Yan, fearing he’d gone too far, added quickly, “Of course, the Empress Dowager may be unaware of it all—just a current pushing the boat forward, unintentionally aiding them.”
The emperor took a deep, slow breath.
Su Yan held his breath, waiting. Finally, he heard the words: “Continue.”
He bit his lip. What he was about to say was a grave offense—one that risked violating the deepest taboo between ruler and subject. If he had miscalculated, he could only blame his own error in judgment—overestimating his worth and influence. Whatever consequences followed, he would bear them himself.
“I suspect the Wei family is linked to the ‘player’ because, in all these plots against the Crown Prince, the greatest beneficiary has been the Wei family.”
The emperor abruptly countered, “Do you know what happened to ministers who got too deeply involved in imperial succession struggles in past dynasties?”
Su Yan’s face paled slightly. He instinctively reached for the seal hidden in his robes. Even through thick cloth, its solid weight seemed to anchor his resolve. He answered softly, “I know.”
“But you’re still saying it… for the Crown Prince.”
Su Yan lowered his head. “Not only for the Crown Prince, but also for Your Majesty. For the peace and stability of the realm.”
The emperor looked at him with a complex gaze—weighing, admiring, doubting, pitying, bitter—everything all at once. Even if Su Yan had looked up at that moment, he wouldn’t have been able to discern it all.
He waited in silence for a long time before he finally heard, “Go on.”
“Your Majesty sees with a candle’s clarity—surely you’ve noticed the Wei family’s hidden ambitions. These ambitions exploded uncontrollably after the Second Prince was born. But rather than say they were uncontrollable, it’s more accurate to say they were unrestrained. Every time they went too far, Your Majesty would warn them, and they’d retreat after getting hurt. But once they recoiled, Your Majesty wouldn’t press further. This only emboldened them.
“Now the Wei family not only courts military nobles and civil officials, they’ve even co-opted some of the censors into speaking for them.
“Your Majesty—have you really not grown wary?
“Who benefits from an assassination attempt on the Crown Prince?
“Who spreads slanderous rumors about the heir in the streets?
“Who orchestrated the fire at Kunning Palace?
“Who stirs up resentment and criticism of the Crown Prince among the court officials?”
“—Through all of this, does Your Majesty truly not have a clear grasp, or is it that you see it all and choose to let it happen?”
Su Yan’s questions grew sharper with each one. Though he appeared bold and confrontational, his palms were soaked in sweat, and his courage had long since gone numb from overexertion.
Emperor Jinglong let out a long breath and said in a low voice, “Any other minister, and I would not have let him finish these words. But only you—see the truth and insist on speaking it aloud; speak it aloud and still insist on an answer. Is this answer really so important?”
“Of course it is!” Su Yan had thrown all caution to the wind. “This answer determines whether I continue fighting the Wei family and the ‘Player’, or whether I yield to fate, retreat into seclusion, and seek wealth and comfort, abandoning all ambition.”
The Emperor let out a snort. “So much for yielding to fate! If you truly cared to follow my will, would you end up in danger time and time again? And now you throw it in my face.”
Su Yan swung his legs off the bed and knelt at the footstool. “I’ve been blind to Your Majesty’s grace, an ungrateful fool of the highest order.”
The Emperor pulled him up into his arms, both fond and exasperated. “Fine. You just want to know what I really think, don’t you? I’m not one to speak easily—by nature, and as a means of ruling—but you insist on forcing it from me. Can’t I just be left alone, like a true solitary emperor?”
Su Yan rested his face on the Emperor’s chest, listening to the erratic heartbeat. In this man so skilled in control and power, it was like a signal out of control—and for some reason, that brought Su Yan a strange comfort and even joy. He replied softly, “No.”
The Emperor bit his earlobe in punishment and whispered, “Only when you let a danger grow lush and thick will you know how deep its roots go, and how entangled it is in all directions. Only then can you rip it out entirely—main culprit and accomplices alike.”
Su Yan froze, then shuddered.
“I didn’t take down the Wei family before, and now is even less the right time.
“If the Wei family falls, do you think the one using them like a weapon will simply give up—or will they just find a stronger tool?
“Let the Wei family continue as a chess piece in the ‘Player’s’ hand. The more moves he makes, the faster he exposes himself.”
Su Yan murmured, “But every move we fail to stop comes at a cost—like last night.”
The Emperor replied, “Every success requires sacrifice. I didn’t want what happened last night either. Thousands of lives… If I could trade it with my own flesh and blood, I would. But trying too hard to avoid sacrifice only leads to more of it.”
Su Yan was silent for a moment. Then he said, “I will uncover the identity and true aim of the one behind all this as soon as possible.”
“As for the Wei family, I’ll have people intensify surveillance.”
“There are two marquis households involved. Their followers, retainers, and visitors are too many to count. Investigating one by one won’t be easy.”
The Emperor smiled. “That’s exactly why I created the Embroidered Uniform Guard.”
Su Yan got the answer he came for. Beneath his steely composure, he felt a wave of relief. He had always known that Emperor Jinglong, despite his outward gentleness, was a man of deep cunning and heavy thoughts—why should it still make him uneasy?
Just as he was giving himself a mental pep talk, his stomach gave a loud rumble. Only then did he remember he’d had nothing but a small bowl of porridge six hours ago—his stomach was now crying in protest.
The Emperor said warmly, “I brought some imperial dishes from the palace. Your servants have been keeping them warm—there’s Buddha Jumps Over the Wall and Songjiang perch, your favorites. The fish was prepared fresh and will be steamed only after you leave the bedroom.”
Su Yan thanked him, and seeing the Emperor still holding onto him, hesitated, then added, “If Your Majesty doesn’t mind my humble abode, please grace me with your company at the meal.”
Only then did the Emperor let go. He rose from the bed, casually tidied Su Yan’s collar and hair, and said lightly, “Now that’s more like it. The last time I invited you to dine in the palace, weren’t you supposed to return the gesture?”
