Lately, Ye Weifeng was plagued by a lingering sense of unease. Whether he was attending to official state affairs in the grand court by day or drifting off to sleep in the dead of night, a deep anxiety constantly dogged his steps.
Worse still, for several nights in a row, he had been jolted awake by the exact same recurring nightmare.
In the dream, his surroundings were shrouded in an impenetrable haze, yet a sharp intuition warned him that danger lurked everywhere. It felt as though he were walking blindly through a thick fog, and no matter how cautious he tried to be, he would invariably meet his end at the hands of an assassin in various grisly ways, sometimes by a sword, sometimes by an archer’s arrow, and occasionally even consumed by roaring flames.
The climax of the dream always culminated in the moment he finally laid eyes on his killer right before waking up.
Every single assassin who took his life possessed a face identical to Xi Yu’s. Was the assassin Xi Yu?
That was impossible!
Even though Ye Weifeng had been tormented by these nightmares of Xi Yu killing him for quite some time, he stubbornly refused to believe such a thing in reality.
Ye Weifeng let out a cold laugh, holding total disdain for this prophetic nightmare. Would he really die at Xi Yu’s hands?
That was utterly out of the question!
How could Xi Yu ever bear to kill him? He was the person in this world who loved him most, willing to sacrifice his very life to keep him safe.
Had he forgotten? How many times had Xi Yu stood in front of him? When they were youths and he committed a fault, Xi Yu took the Grand Tutor’s punishment in his stead. During the brutal succession struggle when the Third Prince plotted against him, it was Xi Yu who risked his life to carve out a bloody path of escape for them.
How could a Xi Yu who loved him down to his very bones ever raise a hand against him?
Therefore, despite suffering such nightmares every single night, Ye Weifeng remained completely trusting of Xi Yu ever since the incident at the garden pond. Had the senior grand secretaries not discouraged him, he would have even leaked the details of his banquet trap against Wenren Yan directly to Xi Yu.
Speaking of the welcoming banquet, Ye Weifeng twirled the memorial in his hand. Wenren Yan’s arrival in the capital presented a golden opportunity for Daqing.
His ambitions extended far beyond a mere two border cities; what he truly desired was the entirety of the Chuguo state.
And Wenren Yan would serve as his ultimate bargaining chip.
Achieving this required a legitimate pretext. He had arranged to dispatch a band of pre-trained assassins ahead of time to stage a fake assassination attempt against himself during the royal banquet, framing the Chuguo people in the process.
The palace guards would then capture these assassins, and after a brief interrogation forcing them to confess that Wenren Yan had ordered the hit, he would secure the legal grounds to detain Wenren Yan.
As the sole ruling figure of Chuguo, Wenren Yan was said to command immense respect among his people. With Wenren Yan safely in his custody, Daqing would have no trouble extracting a continuous stream of tribute from the grasslands.
Contemplating this master plan, a satisfied smile spread across Ye Weifeng’s face. The only minor detail that troubled him, however, was…
If he did not inform Xi Yu in advance, would Xi Yu be terrified out of his wits upon seeing him targeted by assassins?
After all, Xi Yu always regarded his life as far more precious than his own.
Figning distress for a brief moment, Ye Weifeng quickly dismissed the thought with a shrug of relief. Better yet, it was probably best not to tell him; after all, he was rather eager to witness the profound worry Xi Yu would display on his behalf.
The welcoming banquet commenced right on schedule. Although Wenren Yan had been in the capital for several days already, he still played the part of a dignitary who had only just arrived and was being warmly received by Daqing’s hospitality.
As monarchs of two nations sat facing one another, the affair was essentially a contest of pure acting chops.
Amidst the clinking of cups and flowing wine, Ye Weifeng inadvertently caught sight of Fuying seated right beside Xi Yu. Fuying looked utterly vacant, entirely focused on picking out food and placing it on Xi Yu’s plate.
Whenever Xi Yu took a few extra bites of what he served, Fuying’s eyes would curve into bright crescents of joy, as though he had just been granted the greatest reward in the world.
Initially, Ye Weifeng pretended not to care, yet he still found his gaze drifting back repeatedly, growing more disgruntled with every glance.
Taking advantage of the moment when Wenren Yan was distracted, he beckoned an attendant close and secretly relayed a new set of instructions to the hidden assassins lurking in the shadows.
Aside from staging the fake assassination attempt on him, there was now an additional task.
Take advantage of the chaos and kill Fuying.
He had long grown tired of supporting this useless waste; keeping him around merely drained the imperial treasury. What was more, the way Fuying constantly clung to Xi Yu was an absolute eyesore.
Little did Ye Weifeng know that both Xi Yu and Wenren Yan had observed his every move. Exchanging a glance, they realized their preparations were already in place, waiting solely for the prearranged signal.
At that exact instant, the moment Ye Weifeng gave the hand gesture to his hidden assassins to signal their advance, Wenren Yan slammed his wine cup onto the floor. A swarm of black-clad figures suddenly emerged from the shadows, catching many banquet guests entirely off guard.
Two separate factions of men dressed in identical attire made it impossible to tell who was friend and who was foe.
Xi Yu offered a calm, knowing smile. That was precisely the desired effect. Since Ye Weifeng had chosen to use himself as bait to set up a trap, why not go along with the ruse and turn the tables to legitimize it?
Thus, he and Wenren Yan had arranged for their own identically dressed assassins to infiltrate the palace banquet ahead of time. The moment Ye Weifeng gave his order, they would issue theirs simultaneously, lulling Ye Weifeng into a false sense of security where he would mistake their hitmen for his own planted actors.
If they managed to successfully take Ye Weifeng’s head in the process, it would certainly mean their efforts were not in vain.
With the entry of both groups of assassins, the scene descended into utter chaos. Yet Ye Weifeng remained completely oblivious, maintaining an air of profound composure.
His eyes remained locked on Xi Yu, fully expecting that the moment Xi Yu realized his life was under threat, he would inevitably panic and throw himself in front of him as a shield.
Right, and then there was that bothersome Fuying. Maintaining a facade of calm, Ye Weifeng strode toward Fuying, wishing he could dispense with royal decorum and finish him off with his own hands.
As the two of them stood close together, Ye Weifeng signaled the assassins, directing them to zero in on their target and eliminate Fuying right then and there.
Much to Ye Weifeng’s surprise, however, the moment the signal was given, two separate assassins lunged directly toward Fuying.
No, wait, they were charging toward Fuying and himself respectively. In a blinding flash of insight, the truth suddenly dawned on him.
This was wrong! The men he had dispatched were nowhere near this numerous. These were two entirely different factions!
And one of those assassins was hurtling straight toward a target whose identity was none other than himself!
Realizing the gravity of the situation, a panicked Ye Weifeng screamed out for Xi Yu. Much like a child who instinctively cries out for Xi Yu whenever facing punishment from the Grand Tutor or plunging into danger, calling his name had become an ingrained reflex.
As long as Xi Yu was by his side, he would always come to protect him.
True to form, Xi Yu heard his cries. A look of overwhelming panic washed over Xi Yu’s face, the expression of a man terrified of losing what he treasured most, and just like countless times in the past, he rushed toward him with the intent to shield him over his own heart.
Ye Weifeng’s heart hammered violently against his ribs. He suddenly realized that Xi Yu truly loved him this deeply; those intense emotions were not merely products of his imagination. No matter what he did, there was still someone in this world who loved him with such devotion.
Instantly reassured, Ye Weifeng settled his nerves, fixing his gaze squarely on Xi Yu as the latter drew his longsword, carving a bloody path through the fray and striding toward him with unwavering determination.
“Xi Yu! I am over here, save me!” Ye Weifeng shouted at the top of his lungs.
Yet this time, that expectation was destined to meet with bitter disappointment.
Xi Yu did indeed charge in that direction, but his objective was entirely different.
He was rushing to save Fuying!
Brandishing his sword in his left hand, Xi Yu swept his right arm around Fuying, spinning him out of danger and tucking him safely away before raising his blade once more to drive a deep, gaping wound into the assassin sent by Ye Weifeng.
“Big Brother Xi Yu!” Fuying’s eyes welled with overwhelming joy, utterly astounded that Xi Yu had chosen to rescue him first.
“Fuying, go hide somewhere safe and do not come out until I call for you,” Xi Yu instructed firmly.
Witnessing the scene unfold, Ye Weifeng stood frozen in sheer disbelief. Had a loyal guard not lunged in front of him to deflect a blow, his own chest would have been pierced through with blood right then and there.
Amidst a life-or-death crisis, a genuine theater of bloodshed rather than a harmless scuffle by the garden pond, Xi Yu had actually chosen to save Fuying instead of him.
Even though he remained entirely uninjured, Ye Weifeng felt as though a blade had slashed a massive hole straight through his chest, the pain choking off his breath.
Why?
Was the handsome man standing right before him even the real Xi Yu? How could the genuine Xi Yu ever leave him to fend for himself in favor of rescuing someone else?
Hadn’t Xi Yu thrown him the bamboo pole without a second thought by the garden pond back then? Weren’t all those past actions genuine proof of his devotion?
“Your Majesty, please take cover! There appear to be two factions of attackers, and one of them harbors malicious intent, they are clearly coming after you!” His loyal subordinate rushed forward to shield him, but Ye Weifeng remained rooted to the spot, looking like a soul stripped entirely from its body.
The guard assumed Ye Weifeng was paralyzed by injuries and unable to move, yet frantic glances up and down revealed not a single drop of blood or scratch on his master’s person.
“It hurts! It hurts so much, my heart hurts!” Ye Weifeng wore an expression verging on tears, his unblinking eyes locked onto Xi Yu as though trying to bore straight through him.
Ten years old: the very first day Xi Yu laid eyes on him, he gently plucked a fallen blossom from his hair.
The Floral Festival that year: amidst a sea of onlookers, Xi Yu handed the prize he won directly to him.
Fifteen years old: Xi Yu abandoned his literary pursuits and took up martial arts to join him on the battlefield. As he chased after Xi Yu’s warhorse weeping for miles, Xi Yu dismounted alone to wipe away his tears.
Twenty-five years old: when he stood covered in blood after executing his enemies and finally claimed the dragon throne, it was Xi Yu who pulled him into his arms, letting his own robes stain with the blood on his body.
“Lezhi, do not be afraid. We are exactly the same now; we are accomplices, and my hands are stained with blood too.”
Yet at this very moment, Ye Weifeng realized he had never truly understood the person standing opposite him.
Every single nightmare from the past few nights replayed vividly in his mind, yet Ye Weifeng still refused to believe it, or perhaps, he simply lacked the courage to face it.
“Xi Yu!” Ye Weifeng cried out pathetically, looking as though he had just been dragged out of deep water.
Hearing the call, Xi Yu turned his head, meeting Ye Weifeng’s gaze, which looked like a sea of fog carrying an emotion too complex for him to decipher.
Gripping his sword, Xi Yu walked straight toward him.
A wave of relief washed over Ye Weifeng’s face. Seeking comfort in self-deception, he desperately grasped at this final straw of hope.
Xi Yu was coming toward him. He must have been delayed just now, and was finally coming to protect him just like he always did in the past.
Ye Weifeng stared unblinkingly at Xi Yu, watching him draw nearer step by step. The blade in Xi Yu’s hand was stained with the blood of unknown foes, lending him an air of stern, grim coldness.
Yet no matter who else Ye Weifeng might fear, he would never fear Xi Yu’s sword. No matter how sharp that blade was, Xi Yu would never use it to hurt him; no matter how much blood coated it, those stains were merely badges of honor earned in defense of his safety.
“Ye Weifeng!” He heard Xi Yu call out.
Not Lezhi, but Ye Weifeng. How long had it been since he used that formal given name? It seemed he had stopped calling him that entirely ever since the day they returned from the execution grounds.
“Xi Yu!” Ye Weifeng answered.
Walking against the backlight, Xi Yu’s expression remained obscured from view.
All Ye Weifeng saw was Xi Yu slowly raising that sword, and then driving it straight into his chest!