Chapter Fifty-Four: Displayed at the City Gates

“Now that Yan Kuan is dead, it seems that uncovering the truth will not be easy. Unless…” Meng Tao’s expression grew grave, unwilling to finish his sentence.

“Unless we find the King of Xiyuan, there may yet be hope of finding the answer,” Zhan Yan took up his words.

“Girl, do you really intend to seek out the King of Xiyuan? The royal palace is heavily guarded—you must not take such risks,” Meng Tao objected.

“Uncle Meng, whatever happens, I need to know whether my father is alive or dead. Even if it’s dangerous, I must try,” Zhan Yan declared firmly. She had lost her mother; if her father were still alive and she ignored him, would she not fail in her duty as a daughter?

“We should wait until the Prince Chun wakes up. Sixteen years have passed; there’s no need to rush,” Meng Tao knew he could not dissuade her and said no more.

“Yes, let’s wait until he wakes,” Zhan Yan nodded. Indeed, there was no urgency. The most important thing now was to wait for Zhongli Yu to regain consciousness, so they could discuss matters together. Apart from the fact that the King of Zhen Nan was his father-in-law, he was also a prince of Dongling, and whatever happened, it had to be discussed with him.

“Madam, how should we handle this corpse?” Lihun, seeing that Zhan Yan and the others were about to leave, quickly asked.

“Hang him at the city gate, and let the world know that the King of Zhen Nan did not collude with the enemy for treason, but was harmed by this man, his fate still uncertain,” Zhan Yan considered for a moment before speaking slowly. Regardless of whether the true King of Zhen Nan was alive or dead, she could not let him suffer such unjust accusations.

Meng Tao nodded in agreement. Though the dead were to be respected, given all he had done, there was no reason to pity this man.

That day, Yan Kuan’s corpse was hung at the city gate. All who had witnessed the events knew that this man had disguised himself as the King of Zhen Nan, colluded with the second prince of Xiyuan to attack Wang City, leading to its fall, and later forced Zhongli Yu to take his own life before the people, leaving the Prince Chun’s fate unknown. Everyone who saw Yan Kuan’s corpse was filled with hatred, wishing they could tear him to pieces.

When the King of Xiyuan heard of Yan Kuan’s death, he merely shook his head in regret. Yan Kuan had served his purpose; his death meant little. Emperors are the most heartless—never too concerned about the fate of a single minister. What concerned him more was the defeat of Xiyuan’s army; Yang Qi had failed to overcome Dongling, which greatly displeased him. But at least Zhongli Yu had been eliminated—Zhongli Yu was Xiyuan’s greatest rival, and his death could only benefit Xiyuan. He did not yet know that Zhongli Yu still lived. Yang Yuxiong’s ambitions had not diminished with Xiyuan’s defeat; he continued plotting how to invade Dongling, for he had coveted those prosperous lands for a long time.

“Your Majesty, I have prepared some sweets for you. Please try them. The weather is so hot now—a chilled dessert will help you cool off,” a graceful woman entered, speaking gently. This was Consort Liang, Yang Qi’s birth mother. Though thirty-five years old, careful maintenance had kept the traces of age from her face. She wore a floor-length plum-red palace gown, moving elegantly, her slender, fair hands holding a delicate tray on which sat a small bowl of dessert, with a rectangular block of ice at the bottom. She smiled, appearing gentle, composed, and magnificently noble.

“Only my beloved knows how to care for me,” Yang Yuxiong touched her cheek, smiling.

“Your Majesty is my world. If I don’t care for you, whom should I care for?” Consort Liang glanced at him playfully, mixing coyness with charm, stirring Yang Yuxiong’s desires—no wonder she had enjoyed his favor for twenty years.

“Haha, my beloved’s words always lift my spirits,” Yang Yuxiong laughed, drawing Consort Liang into his embrace, letting her sit upon his lap, gently kneading her small hand, reddened from the cold tray.

“I speak the truth, yet Your Majesty says I am coaxing you. I will not accept that,” Consort Liang shook Yang Yuxiong’s hand, her body shifting restlessly on his lap, arousing his thoughts.

“It seems my beloved misses me. Let me indulge you, then,” Yang Yuxiong said hoarsely, lifting her in his arms and carrying her toward the bedchamber. Consort Liang nestled against him, a triumphant smile flashing in her eyes.

After their passionate union, Consort Liang snuggled into Yang Yuxiong’s arms, serene and beautiful.

“Your Majesty…”

“Hush, don’t speak. I like to look at you like this,” Yang Yuxiong covered her lips.

“Do you know what I am about to say?” Consort Liang spoke softly, casting him a sidelong glance.

“You, every time you tease me, you inevitably have a favor to ask. Don’t think I don’t notice,” Yang Yuxiong kissed her indulgently. This woman always wore her heart on her sleeve—he liked that about her, so much easier than dealing with those scheming, deep-minded women.

“Am I truly that obvious?” Consort Liang wrinkled her nose—a gesture at odds with her age, yet somehow natural on her.

“Yes, it’s that obvious. Speak, beloved—what do you wish of me?” Yang Yuxiong gazed at her charming face, unable to refuse her anything.

“I miss Qi’er, Your Majesty. Will you let him return?” Consort Liang pleaded softly, burrowing deeper into his arms.

“My beloved, you know I sent Qi’er to the front for his own good. Someday, Xiyuan will be his to rule, and now is his moment to prove himself,” Yang Yuxiong looked at the gentle woman in his embrace, patiently explaining.

“But Qi’er is my only son—if anything should happen to him, I could not go on. The battlefield is blind to life and death; I simply cannot be at ease,” Consort Liang’s face was full of grievance. The throne was important, but life more so. She only wished her son to ascend smoothly to the throne—not for military glory. If he died, twenty years of careful planning would be lost.

“Rest assured, my beloved. Qi’er will be safe. You know his capabilities. I only wish for him to gain experience, so that when he ascends, no one will dare gossip,” Yang Yuxiong patted her back gently, soothing her.

“Your Majesty, you are so good to us,” Consort Liang called out softly, wrapping her arms tightly around him, her eyes shimmering with tears—so vulnerable and touching.

“Enough, I understand. When I find a suitable candidate, I’ll have Qi’er replaced and bring him back. Is that satisfactory?” Yang Yuxiong spoke helplessly—he could never refuse her requests.

“I knew Your Majesty cherishes me,” Consort Liang immediately smiled through her tears.

Seeing her radiant, joyful face, all of Yang Yuxiong’s reluctance melted away.