When the Crown Prince finished speaking, Shen Yunshu fell silent for a long while.
She had no intention of telling anyone about her transmigration. This era was nothing like the information-saturated world of her previous life. People here would never understand such a thing—if it went wrong, she might even be branded a monster or a demon.
But now, sitting across from her was a Crown Prince who had experienced something eerily similar. Her secret suddenly felt impossible to keep.
“Crown Prince Brother,” Shen Yunshu asked softly, blinking her eyes, half ingratiating, half scheming, “was I in your dreams?”
“No.”
Just as she’d expected.
Shen Yunshu straightened her posture, the corner of her lips lifting into an unfathomable smile.
“Actually, you and I are the same kind of people,” she said solemnly. “We’re both minor immortals who descended to the mortal realm to undergo trials.”
The Crown Prince looked at her with an expression that clearly said: Do you think I look stupid?
“What?” Shen Yunshu raised her chin, suddenly emboldened. “You’ve already said yourself that an immortal appeared in your dreams—yet you don’t believe immortals exist?”
The Crown Prince choked on his words. He really had no way to refute that—after all, he was the one who had mentioned divine dreams first.
“But if I were an immortal,” he said slowly, “why wouldn’t I know it myself?”
“That’s because you drank Meng Po’s soup,” Shen Yunshu replied without hesitation. “When the immortal visited you in your dreams, wasn’t it about more than just the flood in Quzhou? Those other fragments—those were memories from your previous life. Your last trial didn’t end successfully, so you were given special treatment and allowed to return with your memories intact.”
Her expression was calm, her tone unwavering, as if she were recounting indisputable truth. The Crown Prince listened, growing faintly suspicious of himself.
“Then how do you know all this?” he pressed, seizing on what he thought was a flaw in her story.
“Why should you be the only one with immortals watching over you?” Shen Yunshu replied smoothly. “I’m such a beautiful little immortal—my popularity in the heavens can’t possibly be bad. Your last trial didn’t go well, and I happened to have a minor trial of my own, so they simply bundled us together. We’re on the same side—it’s convenient for mutual assistance.”
Every word sounded absurd, yet every sentence subtly pulled him closer, firmly categorizing the Crown Prince as one of her own.
The Crown Prince didn’t entirely believe her—but he couldn’t think of a convincing rebuttal either. So he could only sit there and listen to her nonsense roll on unchecked.
Shen Yunshu didn’t really care whether he believed her or not. Telling him about transmigration, rebirth, about being a person from thousands of years in the future, about a world that could soar through the skies and dive into the seas—would that sound any less ridiculous to him than this tale of immortal trials?
No matter how she explained it, the Crown Prince would never fully believe her.
“Then tell me,” he said finally, steering the conversation back, “what was in your dreams?”
Practical matters were more important.
He didn’t care how much of what she said was true or false—what he wanted to know was what would happen to the Yan Dynasty after his death.
“My dreams weren’t as detailed as yours,” Shen Yunshu replied. “After all, this is my first descent—I don’t have memories of a previous life. But my connections are good, so I know a bit of the historical records after your passing. Consider it… pulling some strings.”
She calmly took a sip of tea, as though the two of them were truly immortals seated on equal footing, rather than a mortal crown prince and his subject.
“Still, Crown Prince Brother, don’t expect too much. I only know a few sparse lines recorded by historians.”
“And in those records,” the Crown Prince asked quietly, “what became of the Yan Dynasty?”
His expression remained composed, but the hand holding his teacup tightened bit by bit.
Memories from childhood in this life, the Zhenbei Prince’s household’s attitude toward him across two lifetimes, and the Shen family’s unwavering loyalty to Yan—all of it was why he was willing to believe Shen Yunshu and why he had agreed to meet her here today at Zhenxiu Pavilion.
He didn’t care whether she was an immortal or a demon, or whether he himself was one either. What mattered was what she knew—and the fate of Yan.
“Yan, Year Thirtieth of Yinghe,” Shen Yunshu recited flatly, as if reading from a cold historical text.“Emperor Ming fell gravely ill. In the same autumn, Crown Prince Li Yuanzhen died suddenly.In the thirty-third year of Yinghe, Emperor Ming Li Yin passed away and was posthumously titled Martial.The Second Prince, Li Yuanshen, ascended the throne, taking the reign title Xiaoxian and changing the era name to Yuanxian.
“After Emperor Xiaoxian ascended the throne, he executed all his brothers—none survived. Later investigations confirmed that Li Yuanshen had murdered his father and slain his brother to seize the throne. Emperor Ming and the Crown Prince both died at Li Yuanshen’s hands.”
She deliberately chose the part that would interest him most, delivering it without emotion.
She was willing to tell the Crown Prince what she knew—because as things stood, his ascension was the best possible outcome.
Whether judged by historical records, by later generations’ evaluations, or by the flesh-and-blood man she had come to know after transmigrating here, Crown Prince Li Yuanzhen truly had the makings of a benevolent ruler—one who cherished his people like his own children. He was the enlightened sovereign Emperor Ming had painstakingly groomed to stabilize the realm and preserve Yan’s golden age.
Li Yuanshen, by contrast, was nothing but a treacherous ingrate—an ingrate utterly lacking in strategic vision.
Even if the Shen family had clung to Li Yuanshen from the very beginning, once he gained power, he would still seek ways to eliminate them out of fear of their military strength and competence.
Thus, Li Yuanshen could not be allowed to ascend the throne. He could not be given the power to so easily eradicate the Shen family.
From records following the Second Prince’s reign, it was clear that he idolized his father and wanted to become another Emperor Ming—a conquering hero of the age. Unfortunately, he lacked the ability to match such ambition.
Though Emperor Ming appeared close to the Shen family, even giving the impression that he trusted them with his very life, this too was merely part of imperial strategy. Seated at the pinnacle of power, trust was a luxury he could not afford. That he could employ men without suspicion was already remarkable.
Emperor Ming was confident—one might even say arrogant. He never believed anyone could truly overthrow him. As long as someone was capable, he would use them, never fearing their strength.
Li Yuanshen, however, was incompetent. And so he feared capable ministers. He would never reach Emperor Ming’s heights.
The difference between the Crown Prince and Li Yuanshen was this: the Crown Prince was a benevolent ruler carefully cultivated over many years to safeguard the state.
Even if his ability on the battlefield could not rival Emperor Ming’s, his breadth of mind far surpassed that of the Second Prince.
And especially now—having lived once already—the Crown Prince would no longer be deceived by shallow familial affection.
Li Yuanshen’s schemes would lose all ground to stand on.
After all, a conspiracy is called a conspiracy precisely because it cannot withstand the light. Once dragged into the open, it shatters instantly.