After admiring his painting for a moment, Shen Chaoqing seemed to be in an even better mood. “In this man-eating imperial palace, wanting to stay alive sometimes takes more than just ruthlessness; things must be done cleanly.”
Xiao Huaiyan held grudges, was ruthless, and struck with fatal intent. Li Jingchen had provoked Xiao Huaiyan, so being retaliated against was only to be expected, but it happened to provide Shen Chaoqing with an opportunity to deal a heavy blow to the Li clan.
If Li Jingchen’s legs could never recover, he would likewise never be able to enter official service. I wonder if Li Miaoxze will be driven to desperation and show his true colors.
He dropped these words without beginning or end, sounding merely as though he were reflecting on the laws of survival within the imperial harem.
Xiao Huaiyan’s gaze shifted slightly, though his expression remained as calm and unruffled as ever as he gave a slight bow. “I do not know what Your Majesty is talking about.”
Naturally, he knew Shen Chaoqing was referring to the incident with Li Jingchen. On that day of ancestral worship, Li Jingchen had covertly nudged the platter to make him knock over the sacrificial meat, and he had simply returned the favor in kind.
Shen Chaoqing looked at him with a half-smile, a gaze that seemed to say, Keep pretending, go ahead and pretend. Yet he did not expose him, merely waving a hand with languid indifference. “If you don’t understand, it doesn’t matter. You may withdraw.”
“Understood.” Acknowledging the command, Xiao Huaiyan bowed to take his leave, turned around, and departed from the Zichen Palace.
Watching his straight yet silent figure vanish beyond the hall doors, the smile on Shen Chaoqing’s face gradually faded.
At least for the present, this man appeared to have no intention of taking his life, and those humiliations and tortures had not come to pass. Indeed, on certain occasions, he could even provide unexpected “amusement” and assistance.
That being the case, before a complete and final break, he did not mind temporarily maintaining a superficial facade of “harmonious coexistence” with this dangerous wolf cub.
Should it prove necessary, he could even lend him a hand and assist him in returning to his home country.
Just as this thought flashed through his mind, a familiar, heart-rending itch abruptly surged from the depths of his throat.
“Cough… cough, cough, cough…”
Shen Chaoqing’s expression changed drastically. He slammed his hand over his mouth, doubling over as his frail body trembled in agony, veins bulging at his temples while wave after wave of blackness clouded his vision.
Hearing the commotion, Fu’an rushed inside in a panic, shouting, “Your Majesty! Your Majesty, what is wrong?!”
Shen Chaoqing wanted to wave him away, but he was completely unable to speak, coughing so violently that his limbs went limp and he could barely stand. Fu’an hurriedly stepped forward to support him.
At that exact moment, a rush of sweet, bloody warmth surged up into his throat.
“Blech!”
A large mouthful of bright red blood abruptly spewed from between Shen Chaoqing’s fingers, scattering like desolate, brilliant plum blossoms across the Jiangnan ink landscape painting he had just completed.
The ink-wash mountains and rivers were instantly obscured, stained, and thrown into a chaotic, jarring mess that was startling to behold.
The coughing ceased abruptly. Stunned, Shen Chaoqing stared blankly at the glaring red on the painting, then lowered his gaze to look at his own blood-stained hands, a momentary flash of blankness and disbelief in his eyes.
Terrified out of his wits, Fu’an lost all composure, his voice pitching high in panic: “Your Majesty! Blood… A physician! Quickly summon the imperial physician!”
Acting as though he heard nothing, Shen Chaoqing merely tightened his grip slowly on his blood-stained fingers, his nails digging deep into his palms.
Meanwhile, Xiao Huaiyan returned to his room and shut the door behind him. Inside stood a bronze mirror. He walked over to it and stared at the childish yet abrupt ink-painted tiger markings on his own face.
An extremely faint sound stirred behind him, like a breeze brushing against the window lattice.
Without turning around, Xiao Huaiyan simply looked at the shadowed corner behind him in the mirror. “Come out.”
A slender-framed man dropped silently from the rafters, moving with the agile lightness of a cat. Removing the veil hat from his head, he revealed a refined and handsome face—none other than Lin賢, the newly minted metropolitan scholar who had been the first to drop to his knees and shout high praises before the Fengxian Temple that very morning.
Seeing the ink tiger on Xiao Huaiyan’s face, Lin Xian could not suppress a violent twitch at the corners of his lips. He pressed his mouth into a tight line to barely keep himself from laughing aloud, though his shoulders shook heavily.
Xiao Huaiyan cast a cold glance at him through the mirror.
Lin Xian—or rather, his Liao intelligence codename, Zhou Yi immediately tightened his facial muscles, forcing himself to adopt a solemn expression, though his slightly distorted mouth still betrayed him.
“Very funny?” Xiao Huaiyan’s voice carried no emotion.
Hastily lowering his head, Lin Xian replied, “This subordinate wouldn’t dare.” Yet a trace of a suppressed chuckle still lingered in his voice.
Bypassing the ink on his face, Xiao Huaiyan turned around. “Why are you the one who came? Where is Zhou Jia?”
Straightening his expression, Lin Xian reported, “Replying to Master, Zhou Jia was ordered to head to Luocheng to take charge of the ‘merchant caravan’ and train the troops there, so he has not yet returned. For now, this subordinate is responsible for liaising with you here in the Jin capital.”
Pausing briefly, he lowered his voice, his tone growing grave. “Master, taking advantage of the ‘ferocious mastiff incident,’ the Emperor is having Duan Zhufeng purge the factions of the Empress Dowager and the Marquis of Jing’an on a massive scale. The moves are swift and ruthless; the Marquis of Jing’an’s faction has suffered heavy losses and taken a deep, wounding blow.”
A glint of sharpness flashed in Lin Xian’s eyes. “This subordinate requests instructions: should we secretly lend a hand to the Marquis of Jing’an? Let them fight even more fiercely to throw the Jin situation into chaos. Perhaps… it could create a better opportunity for us?”
Picking up a damp cloth towel from nearby, Xiao Huaiyan leisurely wiped the ink from his face. The cool sensation thoroughly quieted that inexplicable flutter of emotion he had felt moments before.
“No rush. Let us watch the changes and wait.”
Lin Xian froze slightly, looking somewhat surprised. From his perspective, this was practically a god-given opportunity.
Continuing, Xiao Huaiyan said, “The Li family has cultivated influence in the court for many years, running deep with widespread factions. Even if the young Emperor uses the pretext to seize the upper hand and chop off a few of their branches, pulling them up by the roots is by no means easy. Li Miaoxze is not someone so easily overthrown.”
A look of realization and admiration dawned on Lin Xian’s face. “Master is truly brilliant and resourceful! Indeed, according to reports from our men below, even though Duan Zhufeng has arrested quite a few people, the populace’s talk about the young Emperor being tyrannical, harsh in punishment, and incurring the wrath of heaven has not subsided; instead, it has spread even more fiercely. This shows that the Marquis of Jing’an’s foundation remains intact, and he is still manipulating public opinion behind the scenes. If we add fuel to the fire right now by leaking word of the ‘blood at the ancestral worship,’ cementing his reputation as ‘unworthy of his position and cursed by the heavens,’ public sentiment will grow even more unstable. When that time comes, the Marquis of Jing’an might well find an opportunity for a desperate counterattack…”
He spoke with clear logic and burning eyes, evidently convinced this was an optimal strategy for muddying the waters.
However, Xiao Huaiyan’s wiping motion paused for a fraction of a second.
The mirror reflected a face devoid of expression, yet Lin Xian keenly caught that momentary silence and a trace of extremely subtle hesitation.
A jolt went through Lin Xian’s heart. He recalled how earlier in the imperial court, the young Emperor had flippantly declared, “The Prince of Liao has a fine complexion; I wish to grow close to him.”; he recalled how during the grand sacrificial ceremony, Xiao Huaiyan had thrown his blade without hesitation, precisely nailing the fierce hound lunging at Shen Chaoqing; and connecting this to the somewhat comical ink markings on his master’s face that clearly originated from the Emperor… A bold, even absurd conjecture uncontrollably bubbled up in his mind.
Almost blurting it out, Lin Xian asked with a trace of incredulous probing: “Master, could it be that you… toward that Shen Chaoqing…”
The moment the words left his lips, Lin Xian snapped to his senses, his complexion turning sheet-white. He instantly realized what a grave taboo he had violated, daring to presumptuously speculate on or question his master’s personal affairs especially when it involved the monarch of an enemy state.
Plunging abruptly to one single knee, he bowed his head deep to the ground, his voice carrying unmistakable fear and trembling: “This subordinate spoke out of turn, this subordinate deserves death. Please grant a heavy punishment, Master!”
The air within the room dropped to freezing point in an instant, as if even the candlelight had congealed.
Xiao Huaiyan slowly turned around, tossing the damp cloth aside at will. He looked down upon the trembling Lin Xian kneeling on the floor. His face still bore no particular expression, yet those profound eyes seemed iced over with the bitterest frost of the Liao lands.
Without launching into an immediate outburst, he simply stared at him in silence. That stillness proved far more terrifying than any rebuke.