News of the bombing in Tian City sent shockwaves through every influential figure in the Beiping Empire. It was an unprecedented event....nothing of its kind had ever occurred within the empire.
Yet, strangely, what unsettled Zhan was not the explosion itself, but King Yibo's reaction. The King showed no sign of alarm or concern. He glanced at the television for a brief moment, then turned away as though the incident hadn't even taken place in the land he ruled.
For the first time since stepping foot in the palace, Zhan felt a sharp pang in his chest. How could the King remain so indifferent, when the entire Beiping Empire was trembling with fear? Even if no lives had been lost, Zhan wanted to rise, seize King Yibo by the collar, and shake him until the mask of coldness fell away.
"What does this mean?" Zhan muttered, pacing restlessly. The reports had confirmed that only property was destroyed, yet his thoughts refused to rest.
What troubled everyone most was that the man who planted the bomb had escaped. Witnesses claimed to have seen his face and watched him enter the vehicle, especially four young men who swore he had been with them since leaving the village of Lufei.
To Zhan, it was clear: if this King lived another day, countless others would die. Worse still, he began to suspect King Yibo himself. Could it be that the King's return from abroad and his sudden inheritance of power were not as innocent as they seemed? Rumors already whispered that it was Yibo who orchestrated his father's death.
"The time has come for me to truly begin my work," Zhan said aloud, vowing to himself.
★★★
In the grand council hall of the Beiping Empire, chaos reigned. The bombing had stirred furious debates, and many seized the chance to speak openly against King Yibo's rule.
Throughout it all, King Yibo sat silently among them, eyes half-closed, unmoved by their bickering. He waited until their voices tired, until even Prince Langya's sharp words to the ones against his nephew lost momentum.
Then, with deliberate calm, Yibo opened his eyes and swept them slowly over the council. His gaze finally rested on Prince Langya, who was still muttering angrily to the Ministers about his nephew's art.
When King Yibo spoke, his voice was low and heavy, laced with unshakable authority:
"Let them be, Uncle. Their noise changes nothing. Nothing will force Yibo's hand. Remember this...Yibo, son of Wang Murong, is a storm that no river can contain. The empire of Beiping and every soul within it rests in the center of my palm. With a single twist, I can scatter you like leaves in the wind. With one step, I can crush you beneath my heel until your blood paves my path. Choose wisely: remain in the place I have given you, or embrace the destruction that will erase you from this world before your time."
With that, he rose, his footsteps echoing with measured pride, and left the Hall.
The councilors watched in silence, dread clenching their hearts. Some masked their fear with stoic faces, others exchanged uneasy glances, but all were shaken.
Finally, one defiant elder spoke, his voice sharp with outrage:
"This boy has grown too arrogant. Are we to continue being ruled by a reckless child who governs through tyranny? Never in the history of the Beiping Empire has one so young sat upon the throne, yet his father forced him upon us. Enough! It is time we rise and tear him down before he destroys this empire entirely. Who knows? Perhaps it was even he who planted the bomb, just as he murdered his own father...and the brides who were once wed to him."
Though none dared speak, many councilors felt a forbidden thrill at his words. The suspicion that Yibo was untouchable had haunted them, but the elder's accusations now resonated in their minds.
Before the hall could settle, Prince Deng stood abruptly, his face dark with anger. He turned toward the elder and spat his words like venom:
"You are a disgrace to your age. Today, I will not call you Uncle. You dare to stand here and speak treachery against your own blood? Do not think for a moment that your words will reach him. Yibo is beyond your grasp....beyond even your sight. For you, he is nothing more than a shadow on the horizon, a storm you can neither touch nor stop. Remember that well."
He ended with a scornful glance at Prince Langya, who sat in stunned silence, unable to comprehend how far his own kin had turned against him.
He quickly lifted his head, answering furiously as he too rose to his feet.
"Ah... I never knew this was how you truly were until today. So, you'll be the first to betray Murong Gege's blood, to turn against your own kin, our father's brother, the very man whose body now lies in the earth? We won't confront you now, but know this....anyone who carries such treachery in his heart should remember that our blood will be the price paid to shield Yibo in every way. For now, we leave you in peace."
These words from Prince Deng and Prince Langya unsettled everyone in the great hall. Immediately, some sought to distance themselves from the elder uncle's bold accusations, fearing that perhaps they had gone too far. Others, however, clung to his words, emboldened by their own secret ambitions to seize the throne. The court dissolved into chaos, voices rising in bitter conflict until the gathering finally broke apart in disorder.
★★
"I can't understand your reason for doing that," Prince Langya muttered as they left the hall.
Prince Deng only smirked with a calculating confidence. Once they were far from King Yibo's quarters, Deng let out a soft, mocking laugh without even glancing at his brother.
"That was nothing more than a part of plan B. Our next move is to draw closer ties with the male royal consort. I know him...his first instinct will be to dig into Yibo's identity, to unearth who he really is."
"And how do you know all this?" Langya asked in astonishment.
Prince Deng burst into louder laughter. "Ah, brother, you're still too naïve. Do you think anyone with ambition sits idly by, waiting for luck? No....he creates his own path, forcing open the doors that bar his way. Don't bother asking where I learn things. Just make sure the books we discussed the other day are placed in the study tonight. He might seek them out as soon as tomorrow."
Langya shrugged with feigned indifference, though inwardly he chuckled. He, too, had his own plans, long laid since that very conversation.
★★
Though King Yibo was usually a master at concealing his emotions, today his anger slipped through. His chest rose and fell in harsh breaths as he stormed away from the council hall. He ascended straight to the highest building of his residence, a place recently renovated for solitude and rest.
Even the attendants at the guarded doors received no acknowledgment from him. Hands shoved deep into his white trousers, he paced restlessly, inhaling sharply and exhaling with force.
Finally, when he had gathered a measure of calm, he pulled his phone from his pocket. With a single ring the call was answered. Yibo ignored the greeting, speaking coldly, his voice like a blade:
"Hide him where no living soul could ever imagine to search."
(Ahh...😱King Yibo, who are you hiding now? 🤔)
He ended the call immediately, jaw tightening as he exhaled again through clenched teeth.
★★
Meanwhile, Zhan was pacing too, caught in his own whirlwind of thoughts. At last, he sat down, only to rise again, lost in conflicted musings.
From his expression alone, one could read the same confusion that weighed on every citizen of the empire since the bomb incident shook Tian City.
At first, King Yibo hadn't even noticed Zhan standing nearby....his eyes had been shut tight with frustration. But when he finally sat, opening them, his gaze met Zhan's. For a moment, both stared at each other....Yibo in surprise, Zhan in quiet resolve.
Zhan looked away first. Yibo let out another sharp breath and shut his eyes again.
The sitting room fell into silence, broken only by the hum of the air system and the constant chatter of the television still reporting on the unrest.
When the clock struck four with a resounding chime, Zhan rose without another glance at Yibo. He left swiftly, bitterness still churning in his chest.
Yibo watched him go from beneath lowered lashes, until he vanished from sight. A muted sigh escaped the king's lips before he closed his eyes once more.
★★★
Zhan prepared himself meticulously, dressing in a white flowing robe that dazzled the eyes with its elegance. The cologne he had borrowed without permission lingered on him heavily, as though he had bathed in it.
Every part of his appearance followed the rules Daneen had drilled into him: never step out untidy, never leave his chamber without looking fit for scrutiny.
Obedient to those expectations, Zhan dialed her number.
"Mamy," he greeted softly when she answered, his voice respectful.
Her voice brightened instantly with excitement. "Ruilan, is that you, calling me yourself?"
Zhan smiled faintly at the name she used....Ruilan, the counterpart of a queen. Shaking his head though she could not see, he teased:
"Mamy, if you call me that in public, they'll hang me at the very heart of Beiping empire."
Her laughter rang freely through the line, full of delight. "Who dares to touch my son? Who dares lay a hand on the consort of the King of all Beiping? Even our enemies know you're beyond their reach. You are the Ruilan of the empire."
Zhan could only laugh softly, unable to reply, though his smile lingered until she had finished.
"Mamy, I only called to let you know....I wish to step outside for a little while. Perhaps later I'll visit the study, see if I can find something to ease my mind."
"That's good, my son," she answered warmly. "I'll have the attendants in your wing ready your passage. Go in peace."
"Thank you, Mamy," he said quietly, voice softened with sincerity.
For once, he felt the true weight of his role. Even in his youth, the attendants bowed low before him, caring nothing for his age. All they saw was his station, the king's consort, one whose steps they were sworn to follow.
Five young attendants accompanied him, bowing deeply before guiding him onward.
"I wish to visit the study, is that OK?" Zhan said evenly.
The eldest of them, clearly overwhelmed, shook his head quickly. "For the royal consorts, there are no restrictions. May you walk in strength."
"Then let us go," Zhan replied.
With steady, graceful steps, he moved forward, his escorts close behind, shadows of his growing power trailing him into the dim corridors of the palace.
Wherever he passed, Zhan's bearing concealed his youth so well that no one questioned the dignity he carried as the royal consort.
The attendants, however, dropped to their knees the instant his presence was announced....a detail Zhan hadn't realized until they began their walk and he heard their whispers declaring his approach. That day, Zhan gained a new appreciation for the sheer grandeur of this vast empire and its rigid palace traditions.
Yet for anyone watching, his calm grace disguised his awe; he walked as though he had been born into royalty itself. The journey to the book hall was not far, and their measured, stately pace carried them there in no time at all.
Within moments, news of the royal consort's emergence spread across the palace like wildfire. The spies and errand boys scattered throughout the courtyards carried the tale swiftly to their masters.
Many were astonished. Never before had a royal consort stepped outside the King's chambers within just a day of being installed in the king's wing. Some dismissed it as recklessness, others as arrogance, claiming Zhan meant to prove he was above them all.
Even Dowager Taihou herself raised her brows when the news reached her ears. She said nothing, though surprise flashed briefly across her usually composed face. Known for her pride and commanding presence, she had grown fond of Zhan, even admired his courage. But fondness did not mean she would allow him to ignore palace order.
In the inner court, everything moved by rules...and a royal consort, above all, must act with her permission. (For she was, after all, the king's mother, and by tradition, even the consort's smallest step outside his chamber required her sanction first.)
Troubled by this breach, she dismissed all her attendants with a wave. They vanished instantly, leaving her alone with her churning thoughts. With a tense frown, she reached for the phone and called her younger sister, Jasrah.
Though Jasrah herself was struggling through the exhaustion of early pregnancy, she could not refuse a summons from the Dowager, whom she now regarded almost as a mother. Gathering her strength, she went at once to her sister's quarters, where she found the Dowager visibly unsettled.
"What's wrong, Sister? Are you unwell? What could trouble you so deeply that it shows even on your face?"
The Dowager exhaled sharply, fixing her with a stern gaze. Her voice dripped with bitterness.
"It's that boy."
"Boy? Which boy do you mean?"
Taking several steps across the chamber, still refusing to look her sister in the eye, the Dowager finally answered:
"The royal consort. He seems to need reminding that this is Beiping Palace...not the poor quarter he once lived in. Here, everything moves by order and command."
Jasrah hesitated, then spoke gently. "Forgive me, Sister, but I don't quite understand. Which consort do you mean? Surely not the one with King Yibo? You care for him more than anyone."
"Yes, I care for him. But caring does not grant him the right to stretch his will across my authority. News has reached me: he left Yibo's wing and walked to the book hall with his attendants."
Jasrah blinked in surprise, then let out a quiet laugh. "And is that all? Sister, perhaps you worry too much. Look at it differently...maybe his boldness is a strength for us.
First, no one else knows he left without your order. Second, his very act sends a message to our enemies: that he will not be bound by their expectations. Third, his daring stance is itself a warning to every viper hiding in this palace. Perhaps you should not take it so harshly.
After all, wasn't it Momma who placed him directly in Yibo's wing without following the usual rites? By our own doing, he entered through an untraditional path. And besides... I doubt anyone has yet explained to him the full extent of the rules here. He only knows the task we told him he must fulfill."
Slowly, Dowager Taihou released a heavy sigh. In a calmer tone, she said,
"You're right, Jasrah. You've reminded me of what I let anger cloud from my eyes. Now I see.....his stepping out clearly carries meaning, connected to the task we set him. All of this is Mamma's doing, her mysterious decision that none of us understood. I had intended to visit her wing to ask about it, but those unexpected guests earlier took up my time. I'll speak with Daneen later and then go...perhaps even in disguise."
"That's good," Jasrah replied softly. "I too want to understand how it came about. At least the boy is safe, and that alone is a relief. Still, we spent the whole night in unease. I doubt any of us truly slept...Langya himself lay awake with worry."
The Dowager allowed herself a faint smile. She did, in truth, feel affection for her husband's younger brother....who was also her sister's husband....and she appreciated the man's devotion and the way he loved her only son, even if others in the palace resented him for it.
★★
The great library Zhan entered dazzled him at once. Its structure, its sheer elegance... he was struck by the magnificence. Led by the keepers of the place, he was guided through the alcoves and corridors, where they pointed out relics of the Beiping Empire's earliest founding, objects steeped in reverence.
For Zhan, this walk was a revelation. Each step deepened his knowledge, filling gaps left by the shallow lessons of history he had once received in school. Here, history was alive, breathing around him.
The head keeper of the archives was especially delighted. He saw in Zhan something rare: a royal consort with a genuine desire to learn, to study, to connect with the past. Few consorts ever set foot in the book hall....some never came at all. Yet here stood this young man, curious, unafraid, his first spark of interest fixed upon knowledge itself.
It was the old keeper who chose the first volumes for him, gently setting aside those Zhan had come intending to find. Zhan accepted the choice, trusting the man's guidance, knowing it would give him more than his own narrow search. The keeper, his hair already turned silver, was touched. Though old enough to be his father, he saw in Zhan's respect the dignity of someone who could hold his own among emperors.
Filled with this quiet joy, Zhan left the book hall, attendants following close behind, arms full of the books he had gathered. Everywhere they passed, the servants lowered themselves, bowing deeply in recognition of his station.
But instead of returning to the chamber prepared for him...as was custom, where tradition required he remain secluded for seven days under Dowager Ruyan's orders.....Zhan gave new instructions: he would go to his own quarters.
After all, no one had explained these rules to him. No one had told him of the restrictions, or why he was to remain confined. And in his heart, Zhan felt no need to endure needless restraint. Why should he stay hidden, unacknowledged, in the name of traditions that had no meaning for him?
Besides, the man for whom all of this had been arranged....King Yibo....had not even once looked him in the manner of his purpose. He had not glanced at the person who had been offered to him. He had not so much as asked his name.
How could any husband worth the name cast his consort into such silence, leaving him to wonder who he truly was to him?
Zhan refused to accept such treatment. He would not lower himself. Instead, he would find his own way to stand before King Yibo. He would meet him not as a shadow in some chamber, but face to face, when the time came....and only then would his hidden purpose be fulfilled.
With this thought burning within him, he arrived at his new chambers. Even the blind could have felt its grandeur.....it outshone the first chamber in every way. He breathed deeply, taking in the beauty of the living room before lowering himself into one of the silk-cushioned chairs.
The attendants, after placing the books on the center table before him, bowed low. Zhan spent ten long minutes studying them in silence before exhaling and rising to his feet.
"I want a meeting later today with everyone who will be serving in this place," he said calmly.
They all answered with deep respect, heads lowered.
Zhan drew another breath, unaware of the quiet air of authority that had slipped into his manner, and glanced at the clock on the wall.
"We still have time. Let's walk through the rest of the place before I retire inside."
Again, the attendants answered with deference.
Without another word, Zhan walked forward, and they followed behind him. The steward who had guided him earlier to the book hall now explained the structure of this residence. Zhan only nodded occasionally, showing his satisfaction without interrupting.
The wing contained so many sections that to describe them all would consume pages. Once the tour ended, Zhan entered the bedroom he instinctively chose as his master chamber.
He stopped short when he found a small folded note lying atop the duvet.
Son, let this room be your private refuge. I made sure it was prepared with everything you will need.
Zhan turned the slip of paper in his hand, sighing softly before smiling. He recognized Daneen's handwriting instantly. Picking up his phone, he sent her a brief message before heading into the bath.
King Yibo
Since the events earlier that day, King Yibo had kept himself shut away in one of his private chambers. Only now did he emerge, already dressed to step out. At his appearance, the attendants prostrated themselves. He gave only the faintest wave of his hand before striding away. Their eyes followed him cautiously, each man silently wondering what his thoughts truly were.
Instead of returning, he went directly to a private meeting with his two uncles, Prince Deng and Prince Langya, who had requested an audience.
Prince Langya had always been closest to Yibo since childhood, partly because he had married Yibo's aunt, whom Yibo regarded as an elder sister. Prince Deng, for his part, had never shown Yibo ill will either. On the contrary, both uncles had often defended him, even in the face of quarrels at court.
Because of this, Yibo trusted them more than most. He sometimes allowed them glimpses into matters of state, though when it came to his personal affairs, he revealed nothing. To the world, King Yibo remained an inscrutable figure.... aloof, reserved, his thoughts deep and unreadable.
After the servant who had poured tea quietly withdrew, silence settled. It was Prince Deng who broke it, knowing Yibo would remain mute for hours if not prompted.
"Your Majesty, I'm sure our presence here surprises you. But considering what happened earlier, perhaps it should not. What occurred today struck us deeply. We cannot allow disgrace to touch this palace, not while we live under the trust Murong Gege left us. There are many matters we should have raised with you long ago, but today's incident makes this one unavoidable."
"That's true, Brother Deng," Prince Langya added, his face drawn with concern. "Your Majesty, the time has come for some of the elder statesmen in court to step aside so their sons may take their place. You are still young, and your vision is bound to differ from theirs. Even in your father's reign, he struggled endlessly against their resistance. What do you think should be done?"
King Yibo remained silent. He lifted his teacup with regal composure, sipping slowly, his gaze fixed instead on the glowing television screen in the sitting room.
Zhanxianyibo💚❤️💛