Wenchuzhu withdrew his gaze from outside the lattice window and stepped forward, intending to take a seat at a chair.
At that moment, someone walked over toward him.
Wenchuzhu looked at the approaching figures, they were two unfamiliar faces, though he had already guessed who they were.
The envoys of the Longshu Kingdom.
“Greetings, Your Majesty.” The two of them bowed to Wenchuzhu in unison with clasped fists.
Wenchuzhu gave a slight nod and said indifferently, “Today is a banquet; the two of you may feel free and make yourselves at home.”
With that, Wenchuzhu stepped away.
Zuo Xilou’s gaze remained glued to Wenchuzhu. “I never expected the emperor of the Great Zhou Kingdom to possess such charm!”
Mu Qing shook his head. “It’s a pity that he is revered as an emperor and not someone you can covet.”
Zuo Xilou let out a scoff. “A mere puppet, not as precious as you think.”
Wenchuzhu walked to Xie Huai’s side and sat down.
A eunuch poured a cup of wine for Wenchuzhu.
Wenchuzhu did not drink it; his gaze drifted toward the stage, feigning an interest in the performance, while Xie Huai’s deep, pleasant voice sounded beside his ear: “Why is the Emperor not drinking? This wine is the Emperor’s favorite pear blossom brew.”
Wenchuzhu kept his eyes fixed on the stage: “I have just recovered from a serious illness and am not suited for alcohol.”
“This doesn’t quite sound like the Emperor’s usual style.” Xie Huai laughed with ambiguous meaning. “In this prince’s understanding, the Emperor is practically obsessed with wine, especially after giving birth to Yu’er, drinking almost daily.”
His words, undeniably, were yet another deliberate provocation directed at Wenchuzhu.
Yu’er was the apple of Wenchuzhu’s eye. His father, a man who had forcibly united with Wenchuzhu was someone Wenchuzhu despised to the core, someone he could never find and never manage to kill.
Everyone knew that over the years, Wenchuzhu drank solely to drown his sorrows.
Wenchuzhu closed his phoenix eyes and made no further reply.
Seeing that Wenchuzhu did not answer and realizing they were in the middle of a banquet, Xie Huai chose not to flare up; instead, he remained silent, his gaze falling back onto the stage.
As one theatrical piece concluded, another new program immediately took its place, Executing the Treacherous Minister.
The moment the actor furrowed his brow, narrowed his eyes, and began to sing, the ministers present in the hall were left dumbfounded and frozen in shock.
Instead of singing joyful tunes celebrating longevity for the Prince Regent’s birthday, they were performing a taboo-breaking piece like this, were they tired of living?
Everyone’s gazes snapped in unison toward Xie Huai.
Xie Huai, however, sat composedly in the primary seat, betraying not a single ripple of emotion. He spoke leisurely, addressing Wenchuzhu: “Is this piece particularly special?”
Wenchuzhu withdrew his gaze from the stage and looked at Xie Huai: “During the last morning court session, I mentioned I would give the Prince Regent a surprise for his birthday. This is that surprise.”
Wenchuzhu and Murong Jue had already agreed that when the actors on stage began singing Executing the Treacherous Minister on the day of Xie Huai’s birthday, it would signal that the troops he led had taken control of the imperial palace. At his command, they would rush in and execute Xie Huai.
“Very well.” Xie Huai slowly broke into a smile, though that smile radiated a chilling, bone-piercing coldness.
Seeing this, Wenchuzhu’s pupils constricted slightly, his heartbeat quickening involuntarily as an inexplicable sense of panic welled up inside him.
Xie Huai continued, “This prince accepts the Emperor’s surprise.” He paused slightly. “This prince also has a surprise to give the Emperor.”
As he spoke, he produced a piece of jade pendant.
Wenchuzhu’s brow furrowed tightly as he stared at the pendant in Xie Huai’s hand, his fingers within his sleeves trembling faintly and uncontrollably.
He raised his gaze, glaring fiercely at Xie Huai: “You” The words stuck in Wenchuzhu’s throat, and he had no desire to voice them.
Yet Xie Huai knew precisely what Wenchuzhu wanted to say. “No matter how much the Emperor refuses to face it, this remains an inescapable reality, this prince has captured Yu’er.”
As it turned out, the jade pendant in Xie Huai’s hand belonged to Yu’er. That pendant was an heirloom of the Wen family, and shortly after Yu’er was born, it had been placed upon him.
Xie Huai pinched the jade pendant and exerted force; the next instant, the pendant shattered into powder within his palm, while his low, flat voice carried an unmistakable threat: “Does the Emperor wish for Yu’er to end up just like this?”
“I don’t believe it.” Wenchuzhu shook his head. “I don’t believe you captured Yu’er.”