Chapter 76: Welcoming Winter

Last year, rebels besieged the city; this year, refugees in Luozhou rose in revolt. The Great Xuan’s Winter Welcoming Ceremony proceeded with trepidation.  

Nobles led the way, imperial guards flanked the procession, and the winding entourage was a vibrant spectacle. With Prince Su, Wenren Lin, escorting the Emperor, Zhao Yan felt little concern about mishaps en route. As expected, the journey was uneventful.  

At the northern outskirts, dawn broke, and faint morning light spilled from the clouds. Yet, before any warmth could be felt, a chilling wind swept through.  

Zhao Yan alighted from the imperial carriage, shielding her eyes from the piercing sunlight. Her left eyelid twitched uncontrollably.  

Officials stood in formation, the distant sacrificial altar looming. Squinting through her fingers, her voice carried a trace of lethargy from lack of sleep: “What’s the situation?”  

“Commander Guxing has the Eastern Palace Guards on covert alert; no anomalies detected. The Ministry of Rites and imperial guards have inspected the altar and offerings multiple times. Li Fu confirmed—everything is in order.”  

Liu Ying smoothed Zhao Yan’s wind-rumpled robes, whispering, “Your Highness could have pleaded illness to skip today’s ceremony.”  

Zhao Yan lowered her hand, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Feigning illness is just a stalling tactic. I worry that prolonged absence would give others a pretext to make a fuss. Besides, in a game against a hidden foe, staying passive won’t win.”  

When the time comes, better to meet the challenge head-on.  

Per ritual, the Winter Welcoming Ceremony required lighting a furnace to raise smoke. The Crown Prince would accompany the Emperor to the altar, placing offerings and prayer silks for the Winter God into the pyre for burning.  

As Zhao Yan passed through the ranks of officials, watching the ceremonial officer below prepare torches, she suddenly froze, her heart seizing.  

She’d overlooked something!  

The guards had only checked the altar itself, but the furnace’s thick ash, dark and concealed, was a perfect place to hide a trap…  

Lost in thought, the sunlight before her was blocked. A low, calm voice asked, “Cold?”  

Zhao Yan looked up from the shadow to see Wenren Lin approaching, hands clasped behind him. Despite the fierce wind, he stood unmoved, not a single fold of his robe out of place.  

During the solemn ceremony, Zhao Yan dared not make a scene. Lowering her gaze discreetly, she said, “I just realized the wood and kindling in the pyre furnace… haven’t been checked.”  

So that’s it.  

Wenren Lin’s lips twitched slightly, gesturing toward the altar.  

Zhao Yan followed his gaze. Several guards were already opening the furnace, swiftly removing the ash and wood inside and replacing them with fresh materials.  

“You thought of it already?”  

Zhao Yan visibly relaxed, her face nearly translucent in the sunlight.  

Wenren Lin neither confirmed nor denied. “If I couldn’t foresee this, I wouldn’t deserve this position.”  

“My Lord.”  

A guard who had inspected the furnace hurried down, saluting Wenren Lin. “The ash was mixed with niter and sulfur…”  

The guard’s voice was hushed, but Zhao Yan, standing close, caught the words.  

She’d been right—the furnace was tampered with.  

Niter and sulfur, mixed with charcoal, were ingredients for gunpowder. Had she ascended the altar with the Emperor and lit the pyre… the consequences would have been catastrophic!  

Wenren Lin glanced at Zhao Yan before following the guard to inspect the removed fuel. His pale fingers brushed the wood, then lifted to his nose, catching the sharp scent of gunpowder.  

Cai Tian, hand on his sword, stepped forward. “My Lord, the culprit has been detained. Shall we deal with them on the spot?”  

“Hold them for now.”  

Wenren Lin leisurely glanced at Zhao Yan among the front ranks of officials, a faint smile in his deepening gaze.  

This was the little Highness’s game—let’s see how she handles it.  

If she couldn’t see through this trick, he’d step in to clean up. Then, he’d drag her back to the Eastern Palace for a proper lesson.  

The Winter Welcoming ritual was intricate. Zhao Yan, holding the prayer silks, ascended one side of the altar, her head aching from the wind.  

After lighting the furnace, the Emperor observed the flames, and Zhao Yan personally placed the silks into the pyre to burn, offering incense and bowing thrice before stepping aside.  

The ministers followed with their kowtows. The furnace flames crackled, but the pyre remained intact.  

No danger.  

The return to the palace was exhausting. After half a day of pomp, the entourage was visibly fatigued, and the procession slowed.  

Zhao Yan, tired and hungry yet still vigilant, munched on dried fruit to stay alert. Halfway back, a commotion erupted at the front.  

The carriage jolted to a stop, nearly choking her on a fruit. Coughing, she gulped tea to recover and asked, “What happened?”  

Guards rushed to maintain order, and the Eastern Palace Guards stood at full alert. Guxing returned from scouting. “An ambush ahead—assassins. They’ve been subdued by Prince Su’s men.”  

Zhao Yan nodded.  

This was the only route back to the palace, the last chance for an attack. If she were an assassin, she’d strike here too.  

The rest of the journey was smooth, with no further incidents.  

The Winter Welcoming entourage entered the imperial city via the northern gate. A grand state banquet followed, with men and women seated separately: the Emperor hosted officials and royals at Yonglin Hall, while the Empress led the noblewomen at Qifeng Pavilion.  

Per protocol, the Crown Prince was to first pay respects to the Empress at Qifeng Pavilion, then change attire and proceed to Yonglin Hall to console the ministers.  

The carriage stopped at Beiyuan Gate, where imperial guards patrolled. Zhao Yan finally relaxed her grip, exhaling a long breath as if she’d survived an ordeal.  

Now, it was up to Wenren Lin to extract clues from the furnace tampering and the assassins.  

“Back at the palace, Your Highness can finally breathe easy,” Liu Ying said, helping her down, equally relieved.”  

Twilight gathered at the horizon.  

Meanwhile, by the Qubo Pond behind Yonglin Hall, Marquis Ningyang, Wei Yan, stood alone, hands behind his back, his moon-white robe fluttering in the wind.  

“Marquis, can’t bring yourself to act? Today’s two failures can’t be repeated.”  

A young man dressed as a Taoist priest said, “If you’re held back by familial ties, I can take care of it.”  

“I’m reluctant, but I’m not one to lose sight of the bigger picture.”  

Wei Yan spoke warmly. “Strike while the iron is hot—vigilance wanes after a crisis.”  

“You mean there’s another plan?”  

“When the Crown Prince visits the Empress at Qifeng Pavilion, he’ll take a sedan to Yonglin Hall at dusk, passing through a narrow alley. In the palace, only palace attendants can accompany him—no guards.”  

The Taoist grasped it instantly. “Your true target is here, striking where everyone assumes it’s safest? But the alley is flanked by high walls. Even with arrows, precision isn’t guaranteed.”  

“Ordinary arrows lack the power, true.”  

Wei Yan said calmly, “But with ‘Zhurong,’ one guard and one launcher will suffice.”  

“Zhurong,” a copper pellet the size of an egg, hollow and filled with gunpowder, was accidentally discovered by an alchemist. Ignited, it unleashed explosive force capable of shattering a furnace.  

A sedan’s sturdiness couldn’t compare to a furnace.  

Attach the pellet to a heavy arrow coated with niter oil, and even from dozens of paces, a single shooter could assassinate Crown Prince effortlessly—leaving no chance for reaction, even with attendants nearby.  

The Taoist was elated, saluting. “I await your good news, Marquis.”  

Wei Yan showed no joy, his face tinged with faint sorrow in the sunset.  

He’d given the Eastern Palace a perfect resolution. If the Crown Prince stopped meddling, they could coexist peacefully. But that child was always troublesome.  

To kill him again… it pained him.  

Thankfully, Ah Yue, having drunk his specially brewed tea, was resting at the marquis’s residence and didn’t attend the banquet. Disturbing her would be an unforgivable sin.  

…  

Outside Beiyuan Gate,“This is a game of hearts…”  

She recalled Wenren Lin’s advice from the night before. Her trembling lashes stilled, calm as a tranquil lake.  

“Liu Ying.”  

“Your servant is here.”  

“Go to the Empress and request an edict summoning Marquis Ningyang’s wife to Qifeng Pavilion for a reunion. Hurry.”  

Liu Ying hesitated. “Your Highness, the Empress is compassionate. Besides, the Marquis’s wife is ill at home—she may not come.”  

Zhao Yan had considered this.  

“Have Mother deliver a message to her. She’ll come.”  

After a moment’s pause, she lifted her steady gaze. “Let’s call it… a gamble on human hearts.”  

Kunning Palace acted swiftly.  

Half an hour later, Rong Fuyue, in a plain skirt with silver hairpins, entered the pavilion. Her presence outshone the ornate noblewomen like a radiant moon dimming clay figures.  

She didn’t linger, nodding briefly in courtesy before following Lady He into an inner chamber. Her sickly pallor only enhanced her fragile, jade-like beauty.  

Empress Wei was brewing tea by a brazier. Seeing her, she set down her bamboo tea tongs. “You’re just in time. I’ve forgotten how to steep this Lusheng tea.”  

Rong Fuyue, her face heavy with sorrow, stepped forward hastily and bowed deeply. “Your Majesty, I’m deeply troubled by what you’ve asked. I’ve come to seek clarity.”  

…  

Zhao Yan, now changed, arrived and saw her aunt, Rong Fuyue. Half her heart settled.  

She stepped forward, bowing. “Aunt.”  

Rong Fuyue sat dazed, tears glistening like dew on lotus petals, murmuring, “How could this be… I didn’t know…”  

Before finishing, she clutched her chest, brows furrowing, gasping faintly as if overwhelmed.  

“Marquis’s wife!”  

“Aunt!”  

Zhao Yan recalled her aunt always carried medicine. She retrieved a sachet, poured out a vial, and fed her a brown pill with a faint fragrance.  

Rong Fuyue soon calmed, her breathing steadying.  

Even with tears, she remained composed, rising to bow. “My gratitude to Your Majesty for today’s revelation. I’m unwell and fear offending you, so I’ll take my leave.”  

Empress Wei spoke gently, glancing at Zhao Yan. “Crown Prince, escort the Marquis’s wife out.”  

With a subtle nod, she signaled confirmation of Zhao Yan’s suspicions. Zhao Yan’s heart sank, overwhelmed by boundless grief.  

Though pale, Rong Fuyue remained composed. Leaving Qifeng Pavilion, she gave Zhao Yan a gentle bow.  

“Aunt, what are you doing?” Zhao Yan hurriedly supported her.  

Rong Fuyue choked, “Your Highness, I wish to see the Marquis and ask him face-to-face.”  

Yonglin Hall was hosting nobles, and as a noblewoman, Rong Fuyue could only reach it with the Crown Prince’s sedan and authority.  

From Beiyuan, a long alley led to the northern gate, which connected to Yonglin Hall.  

Zhao Yan knew what her aunt wanted to ask and couldn’t refuse. She helped her into the sedan, lowering the curtains to shield her.  

The gauze lanterns swayed in the wind as dusk deepened. Zhao Yan hesitated to give the order to proceed.  

Palace attendants stood silently. After much thought, she looked up resolutely. “Aunt, will you trust me once?”  

At Yonglin Hall, lanterns blazed, music and dance filled the air, and the banquet was in full swing.  

A palace maid, under the guise of pouring wine, whispered to Wei Yan.  

His gaze sharpened. Pleading intoxication, he declined Duke Jinping’s toast, set down his cup, and left.  

Outside the hall, the warm lantern light faded from his face, stripping away his gentle demeanor.  

Ah Yue should be recovering at home. Her sudden appearance at Qifeng Pavilion was suspicious.  

What had his sister said to her?  

Wei Yan quickened his pace toward Yonglin Gate. Outside, Liu Ying stood with palace attendants holding lanterns, and behind them was a slender figure.  

At the sound of footsteps, the figure turned, a teardrop mole beneath her eye vivid red, gazing at him with complex emotions.  

Wei Yan paused: the Crown Prince, unharmed.  

Zhao Yan swallowed, speaking warmly. “Uncle seems surprised to see me here.”  

Wei Yan’s face betrayed nothing, bowing respectfully. “I wouldn’t dare. Why is Your Highness only arriving now?”  

“Not too late—the banquet’s just begun. Someone once told me of a shortcut, so I made it in time.”  

Zhao Yan adjusted her sleeves. “But Uncle, leaving the banquet so soon—where are you headed?”  

Wei Yan smiled. “Ah Yue is ill at home. I’m going to tend to her.”  

The wind passed between them, like an invisible blade slicing a faint rift.  

“When I was young, Uncle taught me calligraphy and chess. I remember your chess style—meticulous, patient, lying in wait…”  

Zhao Yan lowered her lashes, touching the small mole beneath her eye. “Especially skilled at striking when others let their guard down, catching them unprepared.”  

Wei Yan’s expression didn’t waver. “Why bring up old times, Your Highness?”  

“I don’t know where Uncle set his trap—whether it’s an arrow from the guards or poison in the Eastern Palace… but I know your one weakness.”  

Wei Yan chuckled softly.  

Zhao Yan’s gaze sharpened, fingers tightening in her sleeves. “What’s so funny?”  

“The Crown Prince is noble and virtuous—not that kind of person.”  

He shook his head, indulging a child’s antics.  

Zhao Yan knew her opponent: not the brutal Zhao Yuanyu, not the mediocre Duke Yong, but a manipulator hidden for over a decade, his true face unknown.  

She clenched her palms, striving for calm to find a crack in his armor. “Uncle must be curious how Mother convinced Aunt to come to the palace despite her illness.”  

Wei Yan said nothing.  

His gentle smile saw through everything, as if gazing down from a great height.  

This was a game of hearts—one moment’s hesitation, one faltering glance, could spell defeat.  

“I had Mother deliver a message to Aunt.”  

Zhao Yan met his gaze boldly, her voice soft but clear. “I asked her, ‘When Wenren Cang left for the north in anger, why didn’t you write to him?’”  

A crack finally appeared in Wei Yan’s perfect composure.  

The smile at his lips faded, like spring ripples calming to reveal a deep, still undercurrent.

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