I blanked for a second, turning my head instinctively toward Xu Sheng’s voice.
The steps of the City God Temple were high and steep. When I turned around abruptly, all I could see was the white jade crown atop the newcomer’s head swaying slightly. His black hair, tied high, was caught by the wind, a few unruly strands adding a touch of mortal warmth to the man who sat in that high position.
Only then did his face slowly come into focus against the backdrop of layered clouds and steep ridges. Liang Yan lifted the hem of his robe, walking down the steps pace by pace.
Even though I utterly loathed Liang Yan, I had to admit he possessed a face capable of bewitching hearts. Even if he had been born in a humble thatched hut among common folk, his appearance would still be the best in the Liang Dynasty.
Otherwise, after his ascension, so many ministers wouldn’t have rushed to send me gifts, eager to secure a place for their daughters in the palace.
Of course, I accepted all the gifts without hesitation — but I didn’t introduce a single one to Liang Yan. The next day, I sorted through the ledger and turned three thousand taels of gold over to the state treasury.
Liang Yan seemed thoroughly pleased. He even split those three thousand taels right down the middle and awarded half to me in front of the entire court.
I never told him that three thousand taels was only half of what was on the list. I had kept two large crates of antiques for myself.
Oh well, money delivered to my door shouldn’t be wasted. I cupped my hands and replied, “My thanks for Your Majesty’s reward.”
After court adjourned, Liang Yan detained me to discuss official matters. The moment I stepped into the Council Hall and found only Liang Yan present, I knew the bastard was up to no good.
He dragged me back to the desk. Memorials scattered like snow. He pinned my wrists, his breath hot against my ear.
“Taking their money but not doing the job — not your style, Lord Shen,” he murmured.
I kicked him hard. He stumbled, but caught me again before I reached the door.
That day in the Council Hall, I learned what it meant to be trapped by a wolf who had decided you were his prey.
Contrary to what I had anticipated, Liang Yan — who was walking down the steps — did not carry the triumphant aura of someone who had just eliminated a lifelong nemesis. Instead, he looked incredibly weary. His expression was blank, wrapped in a large white cloak, his inner robes simple and monochrome. He allowed the snow to fall freely upon his shoulders and temples.
This was a stark contrast to his usual arrogant image, where even the smallest details exuded nobility.
When he was still some distance from the temple doors, he raised his head slightly, as if only just realizing where his footsteps had carried him. When he lowered his eyes once more, those eyes — which normally hid a blade — looked entirely hollow.