(What is this man plotting?) Zhan thought, unmoving, his expression calm though his heart whispered questions. (And you...why do you care with what he's plotting? You just need to seek closeness with him?. What exactly is your problem, with what he's up to?) His inner voice pressed again. Names...Juan and Feng...flashed in his thoughts like an echo, stirring in him a strange resonance that felt as though it could soar into the sky.
King Yibo's sharp, uncompromising eyes bore into him when Zhan deliberately ignored his words. Nearly three minutes passed in heavy silence, until even King Yibo began to feel his patience fray.
Zhan merely smirked faintly and turned his face aside. With steady defiance, he replied,
"Do you think an illusion could shake my courage? I will not walk willingly into the lion's den and serve myself as raw meat. Do not trouble yourself, Your Majesty. For at this point, a wound meets a wound, a thief picks the viper's chest."
Yibo's face shifted slightly as if the edge of a smile threatened, but he dismissed it almost immediately.
"I do not confuse a chicken with a roaster, even if their forms resemble. By nature and by rank, I am a Lion....and in spirit as well. Guard yourself, for you will need a long life to spend the days of your youth." His deep, commanding voice filled the chamber as he rose, circled past Zhan, and departed.
Zhan did not move, waiting until the sound of King Yibo's footsteps had completely faded before biting his lower lip, muttering softly to himself,
"Lion… you should have said more."
He mimicked Yibo's cadence with a quiet laugh, raising his teacup to his lips. Despite the sting of Yibo's words, Zhan closed his eyes, swallowed, and carried on. Turning briefly, he cast the servants a single glance before dismissing them from his attention; he knew they had heard nothing of what had passed between himself and the king.
Indeed, if anyone had seen the way they spoke, one might have mistaken it for an exchange between lovers rather than the charged tension of rivals. Zhan said nothing further. Rising, he left the hall, aware that every servant's lowered gaze still followed him, each quietly weaving their own thoughts.
As he walked back, his eyes caught the subtle glint of a hidden camera. It stirred no alarm; he had expected as much. After all, no wing of a king's palace could exist without such precautions....or worse. He found his chamber again with effort, confirming it only when he saw his belongings placed neatly inside.
Collapsing onto a chair, Zhan exhaled deeply. His eyes swept over the chamber, freshly arranged, almost too pristine...as though he had not truly slept there. Only the trunk of his clothing assured him he was in the right place.
His mind surged with thoughts, nearly consuming him. Dowager Ruyan....why had she brought him here? What was her true intent in delivering him to King Yibo, after rumors of lost queens in the Chamber of Saeki?
And then there was King Yibo himself. First, the face Zhan had seen before entering the palace...an image of his supposed husband. Second, the face now before him, near identical to the first. Could Yibo be a twin? Or was it a disguise, a mask exchanged at will?
And then the strange incident of the night before...something he had set aside, but which now clawed at him with renewed force. He knew the risk he had taken in wandering there, yet he felt no fear at all, neither then nor now. Zhan was not one to tremble, even before danger; he possessed a sharpened spirit, stubborn and unyielding, single-minded in chasing his goals despite his youth.
Finally, his thoughts circled back to their conversation, the weight of King Yibo's words pressing heavily in his memory. Their sharpness still rang in his ears.
A faint smile touched Zhan's lips as he bit down lightly, closing his eyes in slow reflection.
★★....★★....
By now, news of Zhan's survival had spread throughout the palace, dominating every corner of conversation. Everyone was consumed with it, whispering to one another, weighing what it meant. Some were secretly pleased, others bitter. For them, the supposed death of the royal consort had been a weapon against King Yibo's rule. Zhan's survival, however, shattered that advantage... an unexpected turn that left their schemes in jeopardy.
The young man's continued existence, and the mere fact that he had defied death, elevated his worth in the eyes of the people. His presence was a symbol that could not easily be silenced.
★★ The ripples of these events reached the highest members of the imperial court, those closest to the throne....Dowager Ruyan and Dowager Taihou. They, however, chose not to make any public comments. Even so, their joy was clear; the delight on their faces was too radiant to be hidden.
Dowager Taihou, so moved by this turn of fortune, even granted pardons to certain prisoners who had been jailed for minor offenses. Among those released was Diwa, whose innocence in the incident with Zhan had been confirmed.
Dowager Ruyan, on the other hand, shifted her attention elsewhere. Instead of dwelling on rumors, she focused on selecting the most loyal attendants to serve under Zhan, with the assistance of Daneen, whose own happiness was impossible to conceal. Dowager Ruyan even went so far as to distribute gifts among the palace staff, and ordered the gathering of all monks in the royal domain to Zhan's quarters...this time, not for mourning, but for blessings.
Finally, she herself oversaw preparations for a special lunch in honor of King Yibo and his consort, Zhan.
BARRISTER
These events gave him pause...though outwardly, he carried on with dignity, following the wise counsel of Grandfa. Yet inwardly, Barrister had sworn an oath to himself: he would uncover the truth. Whoever was behind the schemes against them, he would find them. And he would discover where Babiy and Huan had been hidden.
That very morning, he had left his residence and traveled directly toward Tian Province, his investigation having led him there. Tian bordered Beiping, and within a short time he arrived, wasting no effort before heading for a particular village.
Even so, it took him time and careful maneuvering to find the right household. He resorted to showing her portrait before anyone could point him in the right direction.
Roughly ten minutes after word reached her that a visitor awaited, a woman finally appeared. Her dress bore the distinct mark of the region. She hesitated, clearly unsettled, before stepping forward, wearing an air of indifference that fooled no one.
Barrister greeted her politely and gave his name. Instantly, her composure cracked. Alarm showed plain on her face as she glanced about nervously, as though seeking escape.
"You should leave this village," she said in a hurried whisper. "There is nothing I can tell you. I know nothing."
Barrister moved swiftly, blocking her path, his voice sharp with restrained fury.
"You claim ignorance, yet they were taken from your very statement. Don't be surprised...I know more than you think, Ms. Farishta. Refuse me, and I'll make sure the world learns exactly who you are, and the true reason behind your marriage to Moosa. You know full well what that would mean....for you and for your bloodline."
She swallowed hard, her eyes darting once more in uneasy fear. Finally, she relented, speaking with tension in her voice.
"Very well, Barrister. I will tell you everything you want to know. But not here. Leave this village, please...I beg you. If possible, never return. I promise I will find you and give you all the answers, even those you are not aware of yet."
"Why not now?" he demanded.
"Because your presence here is dangerous. Every moment you remain puts you at risk."
"And how am I to trust you'll come?"
"Follow my trail if you must. You'll find me again."
He shrugged lightly, smirking. "That won't be necessary. I already know the right path to trace you. When shall we meet?"
"Tonight," she whispered. "At Yizhou village."
"The home of Zinnu and Moosa?"
"Yes."
He traveled on, his mind restless, turning over his earlier encounter with Farishta. Though he knew there was a chance she might break her word and not appear at Yizhou, he chose to wait for her there, hoping their meeting would be on his terms.
In Tian, he stopped to eat. When he stepped back outside, his eyes immediately fell on a familiar vehicle... the same one he had noticed tailing him since leaving Farishta's village. It had followed closely, wheel to wheel, yet he hadn't given it much thought. He dismissed it once more, slipping into his car with the intention of continuing on his way... until suddenly, armed men surrounded his vehicle.
★★★...★★....★...
Zhan jolted awake from a shallow sleep, his heart racing. He pressed a hand against his throbbing head... the same dream again. No difference this time, only the same unsettling vision that refused to let him rest. He exhaled sharply, muttering, "What kind of milk is this? If such dreams return again and again, it cannot mean anything good."
His chest felt heavy, his thoughts uneasy. By now, Zhan was beginning to sense that there was a hidden truth buried in all of this. If a dream repeated itself so persistently, then surely something lay waiting beneath the surface. He tried to push the thought away, unwilling to surrender his mind to dread. Still, his body reacted... his limbs weak, his skin drenched in sweat as though he had just stepped out of water.
The sharp chime of his phone alarm startled him. He stared at the screen for a long moment, frozen, as if the device itself carried some kind of weight. Finally, with trembling fingers, he reached for it. A data update had installed, and with it came the WhatsApp application. After setting it up, Zhan immediately searched for Sir Fenghui's number... the man he most wanted to reach. But his heart sank when he saw that Sir Fenghui had been offline for three days.
Unsettled, Zhan held back from calling him directly. Instead, he redirected his thoughts toward his friend, Mulan. Luck was on his side this time....Mulan was online.
"Hello," Zhan typed briefly.
No reply came for nearly two minutes. Zhan sighed. He must be busy at work. Still, he began leaving him a string of messages, updating him on everything that had unfolded since their last conversation. Finally, with hesitation, he sent his most urgent plea: that Mulan investigate his parents' whereabouts. His heart had yet to find peace, haunted by worry for them.
He even added their home address, finishing with a grim warning: If you betray me, sir Mulan, then I leave you to face the judgment of time and history itself. May the weight of Beiping and the cruelty of its tyrant king be on your conscience.
Shortly afterward, Sir Mulan's text flashed on his screen. A single brief message appeared... and then vanished, as if deleted. Moments later, Zhan watched as his WhatsApp app was entirely erased, his phone left clean.
He rose slowly, body heavy with fatigue. As he prepared to head into the bathroom, he felt something...a presence, perhaps...brush past behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut and then turned sharply, only to find nothing there. Shaking his head, he stepped inside.
When he emerged after splashing water over himself, the sharp sound of the doorbell rang through the room. Someone was knocking. Pulling on a long robe from his trunk, Zhan walked toward the entrance and opened the door.
The attendant standing at the door lowered herself to the floor in deep respect, bowing as she offered her greetings.
Zhan acknowledged her politely, though his heart felt heavy at the way they humbled themselves before him. His voice was calm, softened further by the lingering weariness from the dream that had drained his spirit.
"Has something happened?" he asked before she could speak.
The attendant nodded quickly, keeping her head lowered.
"Forgive me, Your Royal Consort. A meal has been sent from the chamber of the Great Lady."
Zhan paused for a moment, uncertain. The Great Lady? (It is from the Dowager Ruyan?.")
Zhan inclined his head lightly. "Very well. I'll come out shortly." With that, he closed the door again.
He returned inside, but instead of sitting down, he began pacing the floor, his thoughts circling restlessly. Countless things swirled through his mind, weighing on him like shifting shadows.
It took him a long while before he finally composed himself. He dressed carefully in an exquisite robe embroidered with glittering stones that caught and scattered the light. (This was part of Daneen's constant reminders: never allow himself to appear untidy or plain, even for a moment. Whether stepping out of his chambers or remaining within, he was expected to carry himself with dignity... because in the royal household, appearance was not vanity, it was respect.)
Over time, Zhan had come to understand this rule well.
Now, as he stepped out, the lingering scent of King Yibo's cologne still clung to him, filling the air with its rich fragrance. Zhan walked forward with calm steps, his bearing regal, every movement composed....like a noble PEACOCK emerging into the open.
The attendants in the grand hall caught the lingering fragrance of incense and at first thought is King Yibo that had returned from the imperial court earlier. But to their surprise, it was Zhan approaching, making his way into the magnificent sitting room adorned with every kind of luxury one could imagine.
He crossed to a chair whose placement and design alone proclaimed it belonged to royalty. With calm composure, Zhan lowered himself into the seat, one leg resting over the other in a posture that carried the quiet elegance of an English sovereign. His gaze swept over them.
The attendants trembled, their voices unsteady as they bowed low, offering their greetings with utmost reverence.
Zhan raised two fingers in acknowledgment, his gesture carrying such authority that words were unnecessary. He felt no need to speak. The attendants remained frozen until he finally exhaled slowly, as though measuring the weight of every breath, before turning his eyes toward the elaborate spread of food now laid out upon a fine carpet.....different from the usual dining table.
His gaze lingered on a delicate glass Jar, where a pure white milk gleamed under the light. (So… my dream is becoming real.....or is this its opposite?) he wondered, his eyes fixed upon it.
The attendants, unable to decipher the meaning of his silence, quickly offered explanation with respectful voices.
"Your Royal Consort, this meal has been sent from the chambers of the Great Lady. It is prepared as a banquet for you and His Majesty."
Zhan slowly shifted his gaze toward the speaker, studying her for several seconds. Inwardly, his thoughts repeated the name.....Dowager Ruyan, Dowager Ruyan...as though testing its weight. He gave a slight nod without a word.
Silence returned, broken only when Zhan turned his eyes on the attendants who still lingered, waiting. He understood now.....they were accustomed to surrounding King Yibo whenever he dined. With quiet authority, Zhan asked simply,
"Where is the Lion?"
They all understood immediately whom he meant, for "Lion" was his chosen word for King Yibo. One of them quickly answered, voice lowered with respect,
"His Majesty has just returned from the imperial court hall."
Zhan gave no reply, only a thoughtful pause, noting the mention of the court, though he allowed no sign of his reflection to show.
Meanwhile, the message of Dowager Ruyan's banquet....intended only for King Yibo and the one now called his consort.....had already reached Yibo while he was still in court. Indeed, it had hastened his departure, though his uncle, Prince Deng, had requested he remain for discussion.
Against his preference, King Yibo had readied himself in a simple casual dress, more suited to private chambers than to the throne. Yet the weight of his presence was unmistakable...the quiet authority in his stride, the subtle trail of his rare incense announcing his approach long before his figure came into view.

The attendants instantly fell to their knees, foreheads to the floor. To look directly upon their sovereign was forbidden by custom. To risk it.....especially in the presence of the high security head Ghazi....could bring harsh punishment.
But Zhan, sprawled with composure in the royal seat, did not rise. His sharp gaze lifted the moment he heard the rhythm of Yibo's footsteps and the sudden hush as the attendants bent low.
Their eyes met.
For Zhan, it was as though lightning pierced his chest. What he had long suspected, what he had strained to confirm....now stood before him in undeniable form.
King Yibo's figure, his bearing, his very presence confirmed the face Zhan had seen before, the same one haunting his thoughts.
Yet Yibo himself showed nothing. His sharp eyes slid away, giving no clue to what lay beneath, his expression unreadable. He turned instead to the great clock standing tall in the sitting room, as if Zhan were no more than a shadow.
But within, Yibo's thoughts were struck by disbelief. This stranger....this audacious being....had once invaded his private chamber. And now, here he was, seated boldly upon Yibo's own chair.
Zhan, for his part, maintained his own mask. He did not acknowledge Yibo's entrance, though his heart pounded restlessly, torn between certainty and denial. His mind chased itself in circles, seeking a truth that refused to settle.
And in the silence between them, tension swelled like a storm waiting to break.
BARRISTER
No matter how much the Barrister tried to question them....who they were, or what they wanted...they ignored him completely. Instead, they shoved him into a heavily tinted black car. One of them slipped into the Barrister's own vehicle, emptied everything inside into a large leather bag, and then drove away.
Moments later, just as they pulled away, an earsplitting explosion ripped through the air. Everyone knew instantly....it was a bomb.
The Barrister's eyes widened in horror as he watched his car launch into the sky and shatter into flaming pieces. Though terrified, he clenched his jaw and demanded with a firm voice, "Who are you? Why have you done this to me?"
The men did not answer, not even a glance in his direction. Their silence was more chilling than any threat.
Panic rushed through the Barrister's veins....he knew now he was in the hands of dangerous men. He tried to struggle, to speak again, but before he could, a handkerchief was pressed over his face. Darkness swallowed him.
When he woke, he found himself in an unfamiliar room, not knowing where he was or how long he had been unconscious.
Meanwhile, the entire Tian City and the Beiping Empire were thrown into chaos by the explosion. It was the first time such a terrifying act had occurred. Security forces rushed to the site. Fortunately, no civilian lives had been lost....but suspicions grew that the car driver had perished in the blast. Yet, no remains were found.
This deepened the mystery. Eyewitnesses swore they had seen the driver step out of the car and enter a restaurant just before the blast. Others confirmed he returned and even opened the car door. But no trace of him remained after the explosion. Confusion and speculation spread wildly across the empire.
At that same moment, a group of young men arrived near the scene. They exchanged quick glances and then burst into laughter, clapping each other's backs. When the driver of their car answered a call, he gestured for silence. Bowing his head respectfully, he spoke into the phone as though addressing someone of great authority.
"It is done, Your highness. The target has been dead."
His lips curved into a smile, clearly pleased with the response from the other end. Hanging up, he turned to his companions and winked. They erupted into laughter again, satisfied, before blending back into the restless crowd as if they were ordinary onlookers.
THE PALACE
King Yibo sat at the long and soft cussion, the weight of authority in every quiet breath he took. The dishes before him glittered under the lamplight, but he didn't touch them.
Only after the attendants respectfully reminded him did Zhan finally rise and move closer to where King Yibo sat, his movements calm and deliberate, almost like a ritual. Some might have mistaken his grace for arrogance, but Zhan barely seemed aware of how regal his every gesture appeared.
He seated himself with the same natural authority, though unconsciously, as if he were born to occupy such a place. The intensity of his gaze made King Yibo glance toward him briefly....just a flick of the eyes....but the power of it was undeniable.
The attendants hurried forward to arrange the meal before them. Zhan did not stop them. He understood quickly: in this palace, everything revolved around the King's will. If he wanted to survive here, he had to observe, learn, and adapt.
The attendant reached for the Jar of milk placed before him, though unease stirred in his chest. Something about it set his instincts on edge. He didn't know why, but his heart whispered of danger.
"Leave it."
Zhan spoke just as the attendant was about to pour the milk into a small glass cup. The attendant froze in surprise, lowering her head respectfully before replying,
"Your Highness, the milk is one of the things His Majesty finds most essential at this hour."
Without the slightest hesitation, Zhan said firmly,
"Not today, he won't have it. Take it away."
The attendant's face showed clear fear. She dared not even glance toward the section where King Yibo was seated, much less read his expression. With trembling uncertainty, she placed the Jar aside and returned to her duties.
Even though everything happened directly in front of King Yibo, and he saw and heard it all, he didn't move a muscle. Neither surprise, nor irritation, nor even amusement crossed his face. His authority was carved into every feature.... impossible to read, impossible to predict.
Zhan, too, refused to look at him, not giving him the chance to read his expression either. Instead, he shot a sharp glance at the attendants, signaling them that their presence was no longer required.
In the blink of an eye, they vanished from the sitting room.
King Yibo lingered in silence, not touching anything. Zhan wet his lips before speaking softly, his voice low but steady:
"Long live Your Majesty."
Slowly, King Yibo raised his eyes toward him. To King's surprise, Zhan wasn't looking at him.....he was looking elsewhere. And it was certain now: the words had indeed come from Zhan.
King Yibo's face tightened, an unreadable veil settling across his features. His hand shifted on the spoon with such composure that Zhan instinctively raised his head. Their eyes locked.... Zhan's bewildered gaze caught in the deep, commanding stare of King Yibo.
For a heartbeat, Zhan's throat dried. He forced himself to swallow and turn away, covering the vulnerability threatening to surface.
King Yibo, in his controlled majesty, withdrew his gaze and began idly stirring the food before him as though it were medicine rather than a meal. He offered no reply to Zhan's greeting.
The dismissal stung. Zhan's lips pressed together in silent frustration, trembling faintly as if words were on the edge of spilling out....but he restrained himself.
- - - - -
Meanwhile, ever since the milk had been discreetly added to the lunch prepared for King Yibo and his royal consort, the Inner One could neither sit nor stand still. She was waiting, desperately, for her trusted maid to bring back news of what had happened.
But the palace remained silent.
Her restlessness only deepened when news of a bombing in Tian City reached the palace walls. Annoyed, she snapped off the television and clenched her jaw. None of it mattered to her. What mattered was what was happening in King Yibo's chamber.
Her eyes flicked again and again to the clock on the wall. She wanted nothing more than to storm into the royal quarters herself, to see with her own eyes. In her world, there was no greater enemy than that infuriating young man, Zhan, who had managed to slip past every defense and lodge himself directly into the King's life. She longed to tear him out completely....yet Cao's constant warnings restrained her, leaving her both furious and unsettled.
The Inner one knew, deep down, that she had never faced anything as disturbing as the discovery that Zhan had spent the night inside the King's chamber....and lived. The implication burned her. Even Cao, who had counseled her with measured calm, seemed unsettled by this undeniable proof of the bond between the King and Zhan.
So, after giving only brief instructions to deliver the milk to Zhan, Cao stormed off in a haze of suppressed rage. Her thoughts spun in chaos, leaving Inner one pacing the halls, unable to sit, unable to rest....consumed entirely by what had unfolded.
Zhanxianyibo💚❤️💛