The Prince of Xin fed his horse to its fill, then stroked its mane. Taking a few steps forward, he stopped in front of Kong Shishu, whose beard was streaked with white. Ever since the Prince of Xin had usurped the throne, his vitality and spirit had diminished. It was said that patricide and regicide would inevitably bring divine punishment, and now he always seemed to hunch slightly, unable to fully straighten his back.
Kong Shishu, a veteran minister of three reigns—no, to be precise, by the time of the Prince of Xin’s reign, it was the fourth—showed no fear toward this young and weak emperor who was easy to manipulate.
The Prince of Xin stepped up to him, staring directly into his eyes, but then suddenly struck him with a heavy punch, landing squarely on Kong Shishu’s left eye.
Kong Shishu stumbled backward, clutching his eye.
The guards at the entrance of the prison watched the scene unfold, their eyes wide, but not a single one moved to help or intervene.
Blood clouded Kong Shishu’s vision in one eye, rendering him unable to see clearly. He could only make out the blurry silhouette of the Prince of Xin approaching again. In his moment of disgrace, he even involuntarily shrank back.
What of being a veteran minister of three reigns?
With imperial power in hand, all under heaven must show fear toward the one who dons the dragon robes and holds the jade seal.
“I didn’t tell anyone that it was you who gave me that medicine,” the Prince of Xin said. “The charges of patricide, regicide, and rebellion—I’ve borne them all alone, not implicating you in the slightest. And yet, you old bastard still dare to lecture me?”
With those words, the Prince of Xin raised his leg and delivered a hard kick to Kong Shishu’s side, targeting his kidney.
Kong Shishu hadn’t expected the bookish Prince of Xin to possess such strength. It felt as if his waist was about to break.
But the Prince of Xin wasn’t done. He sneered, “Don’t think I don’t know what schemes you’re plotting, you old dog. Once the war in the western territories is resolved, I’ll have time to deal with you. And who do you think you’re calling ‘Your Highness’? Your so-called Highness is far away in the western territories and can’t save you. From now on, you’d better address me as—Your Majesty.”
Kong Shishu was in such pain that he couldn’t utter a word. By the time he managed to catch his breath, Jiang Qi and Fu Yun were already supporting each other as they walked out of the prison.
The Prince of Xin turned to Jiang Qi and instructed, “Take your sister and return to your old home in Heyang.”
Jiang Qi kowtowed and thanked the Prince of Xin for his mercy before boarding a carriage with Fu Yun.
The Prince of Xin searched himself, pulling out a few pieces of broken silver, which he placed in Jiang Qi’s hand. Then, from his sleeve, he produced a jeweled hairpin, saying, “The day you and those people falsely claimed to have been kidnapped happened to be your birthday. I had picked out this gift for you at the Huicui Pavilion, but then that incident happened, and I never got to see you again. Take it with you. If you like it, keep it as a memento of the past. If not, pawn it at a shop for some money.”
Jiang Qi accepted the hairpin, overcome with shame, and knelt to bow repeatedly.
Gao Yuexing led their weary and injured group to temporarily take shelter in the Haitang Palace at the foot of Lushu Mountain.
When the Haitang Palace was built, a great sum was spent to divert a hot spring into its rear courtyard. After traveling for days and nights, the group soaked in the hot spring, but instead of alleviating their fatigue, it only made them even more drowsy.
Of the imperial guards, only a little over a hundred remained. They took turns guarding the city gates.
The gates of the capital were tightly shut, completely sealed off to both entry and exit. No one could come in or leave.
In the Haitang Palace, Gao Yuexing found some stored grain and cooked a pot of rice to fill everyone’s stomachs.
At dusk, the guards hurried back to report that the city gates had briefly opened, allowing a single carriage to exit. It was unescorted, traveling alone toward the outskirts.
Gao Yuexing made a swift decision. “Intercept it.”
Let’s see what secrets it holds.
Gao Yuexing was unwilling to wait and decisively mounted her horse to follow.
The carriage approached leisurely, with a bell tied to its neck ringing softly as it moved.
From the outside, there was nothing unusual about it; the driver was just an ordinary man.
Curious about what might be hidden inside, Gao Yuexing tilted her head slightly. With her signal, Zhao Tongsheng made a hand gesture, and the imperial guards charged downhill like arrows loosed from a bow. Their blades flashed as they descended, cutting through the air with precision, shredding the curtains and drapes of the carriage without a word of warning.
The coachman tumbled from his seat, and several blades were immediately pressed against his neck.
As for the interior of the carriage…
Gao Yuexing saw that the occupants were familiar faces.
Jiang Qi poked her head out in surprise, exclaiming, “Is that Princess Xiang?!”
Gao Yuexing couldn’t fathom what she was so excited about.
Fu Yun, upon seeing her, shrank back timidly.
The imperial guards forced the two out of the carriage and made them kneel before Gao Yuexing’s horse.
Jiang Qi showed no fear, though her hands and feet were restrained, leaving her unable to move. She could only gesture with her chin, pleading, “Princess Xiang, I have something in my arms that I must ask you to look at.”
Zhao Tongsheng instinctively reached toward her chest but hesitated just before contact, realizing it was inappropriate to touch a woman. He quickly withdrew his hand, rubbed it on his coat, and turned to Gao Yuexing for instructions.
“Let her go,” Gao Yuexing ordered.
The guards released their grip, shoving Jiang Qi forward harshly.
Jiang Qi stumbled, hitting her head but wasting no time. She reached into her clothes and pulled out the jeweled hairpin that the Prince of Xin had given her before she left the capital.
“The Prince of Xin entrusted this item to me to take out of the capital,” she said. “Though he didn’t explicitly say whom it was for, I believe that only you, Princess Xiang, can resolve the crisis in the capital.”
Gao Yuexing took the hairpin, intending to inspect it, but the sky had already darkened.
Zhao Tongsheng, ever perceptive, lit a firestarter.
In the flickering light, Gao Yuexing could see that the layers of gauzy fabric on the hairpin were densely embroidered with words.
The craftsmanship was meticulous—something no ordinary person could accomplish.
Jiang Qi explained, “I recognize this; it is the handiwork of our princess consort.”
Gao Yuexing’s heart pounded as she carefully wrapped the hairpin in a handkerchief and put it away. She instructed Jiang Qi, “Continue with your original plan and return to your old home in Heyang as if you never saw me on the road.”
Gao Yuexing was thorough in her considerations. She dared not bring the two women with her now. Kong Shishu’s network of spies was extensive, and while the wilderness posed little risk, Heyang was a densely populated area. Any disturbance could alert him, spoiling their plans.
Fu Yun finally mustered her courage to rush forward, choking out, “Princess.”
Gao Yuexing no longer wished to see this person and had nothing to say.
Letting them leave was not an act of mercy but a strategic decision to avoid disrupting the larger plan.
Without looking back, Gao Yuexing led her people away.
Behind her, Fu Yun kowtowed fiercely, her forehead slowly warming as blood seeped through.
Gao Yuexing returned to Haitang Palace. By the lamplight, she personally and meticulously removed the gauzy fabric from the hairpin, ensuring not a single thread was damaged.
The silk layers of the brocade featured a Yun-patterned design, embroidered with silver thread. Not only was it exceedingly difficult to stitch, but it was also taxing on the eyes to read.
Gao Yuexing carefully removed the gemstone from the hairpin and set it aside.
When the layered gauze of the silk flower was fully unfurled, it stretched to a full meter in length.
Zhao Tongsheng waited nearby, barely daring to breathe.
Gao Yuexing read every word from beginning to end.
Zhao Tongsheng, feeling the tension, asked nervously, “Princess, what does it say?”
Gao Yuexing exhaled slowly and handed the meter-long gauze to Zhao Tongsheng.
Zhao Tongsheng groaned, “Oh no,” looking distressed. He was not the type to have the patience to pore over such tiny characters. “Why don’t you just tell me directly?”
Gao Yuexing relented and said, “The letter that the Prince of Xin prepared was indeed meant for me. He kept it brief and explained three things. First, the emperor is still alive; his death was faked. Second, General Zheng has hidden troops in the imperial tombs. When the time is right, the Prince of Xin plans to send the emperor’s coffin to the tombs, which will be the best moment to strike. Third, Kong Shishu is plotting to bring Xumo’er’s troops into the capital.”
Zhao Tongsheng nodded as he listened, but when he heard the last part, he jumped in fright. “He’s planning to let Xumo’er’s troops into the capital?!”
Gao Yuexing remained unusually calm and pointed westward. “By now, they’re probably already on their way.”
Zhao Tongsheng shouted, “Impossible! Prince Xiang is guarding Xiang City in the western territories. Even if Xumo’er had wings, there’s no way they could fly in!”
Gao Yuexing replied, “The western territories are indeed sealed off now, but that happened after the war started. If their plan was in motion before the conflict began, with so many trade caravans traveling back and forth, they’d have a hundred ways to sneak in.”
At this point, all the clues and doubts began to align with the events of her previous life.
Perhaps her own fate might change slightly this time due to her vigilance.
But everything else—people and events—were unfolding as expected.
The assassination that took place at Haitang Palace in her previous life had been carried out by Xumo’er’s forces, who were about to enter the capital.
Prince Xiang had held the western territories with unwavering resolve, never anticipating that the capital had already been silently infiltrated by Xumo’er, turning it into a sieve.
Xumo’er had hung her body on the city gates.
And His Highness had died beneath the city walls, his heart pierced by countless arrows.
Standing at the gates of Haitang Palace, Gao Yuexing gritted her teeth and declared, “Xumo’er, in your dreams!”
—
Meanwhile, Xiang City in the western territories remained eerily silent.
Li Fuxiang had just finished patrolling inside and outside the city. On his way back, he even dragged a lone wolf he had killed, intending to skin it and turn its hide into a mattress. Lately, the nights had been getting colder.
Even the usually composed Zheng Xiao couldn’t hide his impatience. Upon seeing Li Fuxiang, he rushed over, asking incessantly, “It’s been over half a month now, Your Highness. You really have some nerve staying this calm. We’ve been waiting since early autumn, and now it’s almost the Chongyang Festival. If we wait any longer, winter will arrive, won’t it?”
Dragging the wolf, which was larger than himself, Li Fuxiang turned around and said, “Winter? Winter’s good!”
Zheng Xiao was dumbfounded. “What? What’s good about winter?”
Li Fuxiang pointed outside and explained, “When winter truly arrives, we have enough grain to sustain us. We can hold out, but Xumo’er will suffer. West of Guifeng Pass, just one snowfall is enough to bury half of their troops.”
Zheng Xiao thought it over and realized he was right. The harsh, barren conditions beyond the pass were far worse than most could imagine. It was Xumo’er who should be worried, not them.
And yet…
Xumo’er’s forces were still eerily silent.
Zheng Xiao had already begun to doubt multiple times whether the enemy had truly withdrawn their troops. He muttered, “This is really strange. Our battle reports are being sent to the capital one after another, but who knows what they’re so busy with over there? Not a single response has come back. At the very least, they could send a few perfunctory words of encouragement to reassure the soldiers.”
Li Fuxiang had a letter from Gao Yuexing, sent just yesterday, tucked inside his sleeve.
His sharp gaze was no longer fixed on the western front but had shifted toward the direction of the capital. He said, “Soon. There will definitely be a battle before winter arrives. Let everyone rest and regain their strength. Tell them not to waste time overthinking unnecessary matters.”
That bunch of monkeys from Xumo’er, playing at being rulers, thought they could pull off something spectacular.
Crossing the borders of Xiang City, they actually intended to strike directly at the imperial capital. They didn’t even weigh their own abilities, charging ahead without considering whether they might choke on their ambition.