If clivia is well cared for, it can bloom constantly throughout all four seasons.
Clearly Lian Shenwei’s specimen was among the finest. Though autumn arrived, the room stayed warm, so it kept blooming. Lian Shenwei sometimes found it marvelous—his own body sickly, yet the flower and bird he raised were excellent.
He had little power left. Aside from the intelligence network Tian Nan and Ming Zhu built remaining sharp, the Black Armor Guard taken away—official documents from outside hadn’t been delivered in for a very long time.
Truly and completely sidelined.
Lian Shenwei was happy to be free and at ease.
If he were the current young emperor, he’d definitely choose to strike at himself soon, permanently eliminating future troubles.
“Add some water to the ink.”
Tian Nan: “Yes.”
He couldn’t help leaning closer to look.
Master had been painting this for over a month.
He was a crude man—at first couldn’t make out the shape, only scattered few line strokes. Now the full picture was visible.
A long scroll.
Overall misty and distant.
Light ink smoke, temples and wine houses, knights walking with swords on their backs, children running through alleys—both form and spirit vivid. This wasn’t capital scenery.
The puzzled expression on Tian Nan’s face was too obvious. Lian Shenwei smiled: “This is Jinling’s spring. Haven’t painted much spring color yet, so perhaps can’t tell.”
Tian Nan praised: “So beautiful. Master was born in such a place?”
Lian Shenwei: “Mm.”
Sister loved snow and plum blossoms, which led to loving winter. What he loved was the feeling spring days gave him.
Last visit to Jinling was also summer—never as delightful as spring.
In good spirits, he called Ming Zhu over too, having them both look together.
“This painting’s overall tone is set. Colors can’t be too bright—only pale colors allowed. Just don’t know whether to paint clear spring brightness or spring rain dampness. Both seem quite good.”
One brighter, one somewhat melancholic—both fitting the mood.
Ming Zhu, not good with words, only said: “Whatever Master paints is good.”
Tian Nan quickly nudged her. “You paint this one now, next time paint the other—wouldn’t that be fine? Days are still long. Always time.”
“True.”
Lian Shenwei’s eyes curved, acknowledging.
Blocking with his sleeve, just about to apply brush, he suddenly frowned, unable to suppress muffled coughs. Lian Shenwei set down the brush, quickly taking out a handkerchief to cover his lips.
Unfortunately a bit late.
Two drops of vivid red had already stained the long scroll.
Tian Nan and Ming Zhu could already skillfully handle this situation.
Ming Zhu quickly brought in a basin of water.
This cough drained most of his strength. Lian Shenwei’s face paled. Supported to sit and recover for a moment, he slightly loosened the handkerchief in his hand for a glance.
The handkerchief color had been changed to light colored.
The blood color on it was very conspicuous, plus several barely detectable small clots.
He only glanced once before tossing the handkerchief into the water basin, then his gaze fell on the long scroll dirtied by blood.
Previously before each cough, he could sense it in advance—because bloody scent would well up in his throat. Now with taste seemingly completely gone, he couldn’t sense it beforehand anymore.
Tian Nan stammered: “It’s fine, Master. Can paint again later.”
Lian Shenwei rinsed his mouth, brow slightly furrowed. After a long while, he picked up the brush again.
He blurred the blood traces, mixing in some flower juice.
The color still too bright. If painting this blood as flowers, still painting spring—right now the entire scroll’s pale spring tones would be destroyed.
After brief consideration, decision already made, Lian Shenwei changed brushes. Two hours later, the entire painting suddenly changed feeling.
Blood drops became snow-covered plum blossoms at wall corners, knight’s hair ends condensed frost white, child wore added clothing, held an umbrella—umbrella surface also had remnant snow. Above added distant mountain snow scenery, pale pink spreading—just like a mountain full of red plum snow scenery.
Masterful artistry.
Tian Nan was long since stunned.
After Lian Shenwei finished painting, adding seal and signature, he set down the brush, regret visible in his eyes.
“One stroke wrong—from warm spring became harsh winter.”
Tian Nan: “Will Master add an inscription?”
“Prepared two spring verses—can’t use them now,” Lian Shenwei shook his head. “Later have Qiu Che and them think of something. Once dry, put it away.”
He pinched his brow. “Ningfeng returned triumphant to court—no welcoming banquet?”
Tian Nan: “You forgot? It’s nearly time for the late Emperor’s entombment. Banquets are forbidden in the palace.”
Lian Shenwei was momentarily taken aback.
It had been so long already.
This year’s time had passed quickly.
He turned his head, through the window, glancing at the autumn leaves and colors in the courtyard.
***
Within the sea of consciousness.
The small light orb reported: “Foquan Temple’s side is about ready. The revealed information is enough for them to guess some of your identity. The show is beginning?”
“Soon.”
Gong Du curved his eyes, then contentedly hugged his blanket and rolled over.
***
The palace.
Zichen Hall.
“After this period, the victory banquet will be made up to you.”
Ying Jingjue’s attitude toward Li Ningfeng remained as before. After Ningfeng returned from the frontier, he could help share many burdens.
The two sat facing each other, postures casual. Ying Jingjue personally poured him a cup of mare’s milk wine: “You should be used to drinking this. Zhen is drinking it for the first time—you must accompany Zhen.”
Li Ningfeng smiled: “Thank Your Majesty. Between us, no need to be constrained by such small matters.”
Ying Jingjue: “How is your leg?”
“Couldn’t be better,” Li Ningfeng sighed. “Thanks to Master inviting Master Fubiao to treat me. Oh right, Your Majesty, this subject has another matter to tell You.”
Ying Jingjue’s curiosity was piqued by his mysterious expression: “What matter?”
Li Ningfeng: “My master is Ximian.”
“Mm…” Ying Jingjue instinctively nodded, then froze for a second as it registered, saying in surprise: “What?!”
After such a long time, he still remembered that night during the southern tour when attacked—the white-robed youth who rescued him from danger.
Was actually Ningfeng’s mysterious master?!
Had he rescued him back then because of Ningfeng’s friendship with him?
These things had nothing to hide, plus were somewhat related to Ying Jingjue.
Li Ningfeng slowly told what he knew. When speaking of Ximian’s hand injury, he was still very distressed. Qiu Che had told him much about his master.
Master was as he thought—a righteous jianghu knight who valued loyalty.
However, from Uncle Qiu’s descriptions, Master was sometimes very disobedient—refusing medicine when sick, fearing needles, loving to tease people. In youth he enjoyed watching excitement without fearing consequences—clear about gratitude and enmity, very vivid.
Whether his leg or Qiu Che rushing to help at the frontier—Ximian had merit for the nation. Yet he never showed his face, and even Qiu Che disappeared without trace after leaving the frontier.
After finishing, Li Ningfeng was a bit sour: “I’ve never even met Master.”
Ying Jingjue gave him a look: “Petty.”
He inwardly sighed about jianghu friendship, while recalling: “When Master Ximian rescued Zhen, he wore a veiled hat, figure obscured. Rainy night, dark—couldn’t see clearly. Only remember very thin.”
Li Ningfeng pressed his lips: “Master’s kindness is as heavy as mountains. After finishing here, I must pester Master about his residence and serve him well.”
“As it should be.”
“Your Majesty’s complexion doesn’t look good.”
“Still having many dreams,” Ying Jingjue said. “Haven’t had one good night’s sleep in a long time. Always dreaming of before—seems like Zhen’s memories from before age six when I fell ill.”
“Your Majesty at six… seems like when we just met? This subject only remembers Your Majesty had just been brought back from outside then.”
“So you also don’t know where Zhen’s mother’s hometown is.” Ying Jingjue sighed.
“If Your Majesty can’t sleep well, this subject has something called Mengpo Powder. Mixed in incense, better effect than calming incense. When treating my leg, every night hurt so much I couldn’t sleep. Master Fubiao lit this incense and this subject could sleep until dawn.”
“Good, send some over later.”
The two chatted about various things, returning to proper business.
Li Ningfeng’s return to the capital this time was mainly for this matter too.
“Has Your Majesty decided when to act? Best not to alert the prey.”
Ying Jingjue: “The day Zhen enters Foquan Temple. Consider it an account to Father Emperor.”
***
Ye Manor.
The study window wide open, moonlight outside easily seeping in.
Ye Mingqin sat at the table staring blankly at official documents.
She saw clearly the court’s storms this year. The various confrontations between Regent Prince and His Majesty… Now sworn brother’s downfall was inevitable.
She repeatedly went to the Regent Prince’s manor, unfortunately the gates always tightly shut.
Sworn brother wouldn’t see her.
Any matter involving sworn brother—investigating to the end always intricate and complex. Plus she always felt sworn brother’s downfall speed was truly too fast.
Not at all like his full-effort methods.
This year, His Majesty seizing power was very difficult, but the feeling sworn brother gave her wasn’t fighting back with all his strength—more like handling with ease.
Yet the parasites successively brought down indeed had inseparable relationships with sworn brother. She’d even found several instances where sworn brother previously accepted those officials’ bribes—enormous amounts.
Someone knocked outside the door.
Ye Mingqin returned to herself: “Yan Niang? Enter.”
A woman in a Xiangfei-colored dress entered, setting down a soup bowl, gently adding a lamp for Ye Mingqin. “Minister Ye, careful of your eyes.”
Yan Niang was a woman Ye Mingqin had rescued from a house beside the secret prostitution alley in the city outskirts during the investigation of Luan Qingan’s treason case.
The blind Ade had some unclear relationship with Luan Qingan, and she was blind Ade’s woman, having borne a child with Northern Yi bloodline and light-colored eyes with Ade.
Luan Qingan’s case investigated to Yan Niang had no further progress. Ye Mingqin pitied her. After investigating Yan Niang’s background clean, she kept her in the manor as a maid.
Ye Mingqin: “Court affairs are busy. These must be handled before His Majesty goes to Foquan Temple. Will be busy until very late—you needn’t accompany me.”
Yan Niang softly acknowledged, hesitantly saying: “Minister Ye is the most formidable woman this slave has seen. Foquan Temple… will My Lord also go in a few days?”
“Naturally. I also hold a position in the Ministry of Rites.”
Ye Mingqin also wanted to relax some, but during this time many ministers were imprisoned, resulting in a shortage of usable talent in the court. She’d have to wait until the next imperial examination or people transferred from localities arrived before things could ease.
Holding two positions, receiving one salary—though the national treasury truly had no money, sometimes she couldn’t help cursing the court’s stinginess.
The Left Minister and several Ministers were so busy their feet didn’t touch the ground, visibly about to develop mouth sores.
She glanced at Yan Niang, eyes narrowing imperceptibly. “What is it? Does Yan Niang have something to say?”
Yan Niang quickly shook her head. “No.”
She bit her lip. “This slave will go down first. My Lord, rest well.”
Ye Mingqin stared at her retreating figure. When she reached the door, she said with concern: “Yan Niang, your child has reached the age for schooling. If you trust me, I can teach him.”
The struggle and conflict in Yan Niang’s eyes grew thicker, nails nearly digging into her palms. “Yes, this slave thanks My Lord for her kindness.”
She left quickly.
Though Ye Mingqin’s mouth spoke words of concern, her eyes held thoughtful consideration.
Yan Niang was a gentle woman not bad by nature. Though past experiences gave her some small schemes, she was actually simple and kind. This year caring for her meticulously in the manor—so what was she still hiding from her?
***
After Li Ningfeng returned to his own manor, he sent the remaining Mengpo Powder to the palace.
Items for imperial use had to pass Imperial Medical Academy inspection. After the Mengpo Powder was confirmed safe and effective for calming the spirit, the Imperial Medical Academy physicians secretly kept a bit wanting to further research the formula ratio. The rest was all sent to Zichen Hall.
Little Zhizi sprinkled some in the incense burner, thinking this time His Majesty could finally sleep well and wouldn’t wake startled at midnight. Happily extinguishing the lights, he kept watch in the outer chamber.
Ying Jingjue indeed didn’t wake all night.
He slept very deeply, yet fell into even deeper, clearer dreams.
[Fire.
Fire everywhere.
Houses, pillars, exquisite pavilions—all devoured by raging flames.
Many people in night clothes stood on rooftops, black cloth covering faces, uniformly matched swords at their waists, coldly watching the slaughter below.
Killers with various weapons were extremely vicious, playing cat-and-mouse style mockery in this massacre.
Someone tossed severed heads and torsos into the courtyard. Others held rosters, counting while marking.
The nauseating burnt stench of bodies scorched by fierce fire and hot oil—in the small lake’s reflection outside the pavilion, the scene distorted into purgatory.
“Yo, still won’t talk? Heard you’re that young manor master? A beauty. Never mind Prince Xiao—us brothers are also moved seeing you.”
The woman whose chin was lifted was covered in blood, the glazed longsword in her hand long since filthy and stained, original clean appearance invisible.
The woman spat blood, hatred bone-deep in her eyes: “Imperial family… cowards! Dog emperor!”
“Where is Prince Xiao? Have him come out!”
“Better not. Brothers are just doing paid work. Bear with us. So, where’s your younger brother? Two old ones already dead. Fudu Manor’s direct bloodline—besides you, only your brother remains. Where is he?”
The woman bit down on that person’s finger, biting off a section alive!
That person howled, kicking the woman away. The longsword in the woman’s hand slipped out, falling clumsily to the ground. Yet she laughed—laughed somewhat madly, tears vaguely in her eyes.
She struggled, crawling on the ground, looking toward one place.
There was a door opened a crack. She could see a child standing frozen in terrified stupor.
The coldness in the woman’s eyes melted. The light in her eyes flickered on and off, fragmentedly tender. Lips silently opening and closing: “Jingjue, hide…”
“Wait for your little uncle to return.”
“Take revenge…”
A sword thrust into her nape.
Blood surged from the woman’s mouth, pooling with blood on the ground, seeming to become a river.
The child forgot to breathe, large tears pouring from his eyes. He was still too young, didn’t know what death was, didn’t know why overnight his home became like this.
The child opened his mouth wanting to cry, covered tightly by an ice-cold hand.
“Shh.”
The scholar-dressed youth trembled in fright, frantically reciting several Analects passages and “sages protect,” saying in the child’s ear: “Don’t speak.”
The child nodded while crying.
“Brother Acheng…”
The youth called Acheng frantically shook his head. “Call me Little Uncle.”
The terror in his eyes was no less than anyone’s, yet he emphasized again, voice shaking: “From now on, no matter who asks, I am your little uncle. Understand?”
The child obediently nodded: “Little Uncle…”
“Yes, yes!”
The scholar youth quickly stuffed the child under the bed, pulling the blanket down further. His entire body’s hands and feet were soft. He’d never gripped a sword—he held brushes. Never even killed a chicken.
His family’s ancestors produced a general. Big brother was also a very formidable swordsman, often disdaining him as frail, saying their Qiu family all these years produced one sour-tempered dimwit little scholar.
Big brother disdained him, but always took very good care of him.
Ximian was big brother’s close friend. He’d received care at Fudu Manor—should repay it. A drop of kindness repaid with a flowing spring.
The scholar youth continuously wiped tears. Unable to crawl in, he lay on the ground speaking to the child under the bed: “You must survive. Later tell my brother not to resent Brother Ximian. During festivals burn more paper money for me—I’ll still need to buy books to read below. Reading more books on the reincarnation road, next life might be a bit smarter…”
He told the child not to speak, yet quietly said several sentences himself before frantically fleeing outside.
Reaching the door, footsteps halted—face to face with a black-clothed man carrying a blade.
The scholar youth was instantly scared silly, retreating step by step. After several steps, he suddenly remembered something, stopped, instinctively glanced at the bed’s direction.
The child under the bed heard a thud. Frightened, he revealed one eye. He saw a slowly spreading pool of blood from the neck and a section of black hem embroidered with gold hidden patterns.
Someone lifted a blade and walked toward the bed.
The child was dragged out. The black-clothed person didn’t kill him, just pointed at the corpse on the ground and asked: “Who is he?”
The child answered in a daze.
“…Little Uncle.”
“He is… Little Uncle…”]
Consciousness returned to darkness again. The young emperor sleeping deeply on the dragon bed—a tear flowed from the corner of his eye.
***
Foquan Temple.
Everything investigated over the past year was all spread on the table.
Mo Da looked for a long while, extremely shocked in his heart.
He had suspected Lian Shenwei’s former identity, also greatly doubted his motives for doing things, but didn’t expect he’d only seen the tip of the iceberg.
This Great Sheng Dynasty Regent Prince actually came from the former Fudu Manor.
“…The imperial household’s hidden guards were long ago replaced with a new batch. Not one of the original survived. This subordinate carefully investigated in Jinling for an entire year. Not much information uncovered—can barely deduce it, just not accurately.”
“Great Sheng returned triumphant, the royal court also defeated. Grand Tutor, you…”
Mo Da: “No need for you to say.”
“I just didn’t expect that what Great Sheng Dynasty most needed to eliminate wasn’t the young emperor or those military talents, but the Regent Prince who single-handedly cultivated the young emperor into what he is now. The young emperor is immature—Lian Shenwei alive is the greatest variable.”
Investigating Jinling so long, only this tiny bit of information. After long integration and deduction, half-guessing, he could only guess some things.
“Any movement from the Regent Prince’s manor recently?”
“None.”
“No movement is the greatest movement. How could someone like Lian Shenwei truly let the young emperor kill him? Probably will flee.”
Mo Da narrowed his eyes. “Change some of the previous arrangements. The plan needs adjustment.”
**
Bye_Bye On AVL Chapter 20