[Imperial Palace · Hall of Supreme Harmony · Morning]
Prince Huai and the Prime Minister had been taken away.
The hall was stained with blood, the air thick with its metallic scent. Guards were clearing the battlefield, carrying away bodies, wiping the blood from the marble floor. The morning sun streamed through the windows, illuminating the carnage with incongruous golden light.
It was over. The battle was won. But the real test was just beginning.
The young Emperor Li Zhao sat on the dragon throne, his face pale, but his eyes held more determination than before.
He had just experienced the most harrowing hour of his life.
His imperial uncle "returned from the dead," another uncle was captured, the Prime Minister fell from grace, three factions clashed in battle right here in the Hall of Supreme Harmony—any of these events would be enough to terrify a seven-year-old child.
But he had endured.
"Your Majesty." Xie Qingyan stepped forward and bowed. "Prince Huai committed treason. The Prime Minister aided the rebellion. How should they be dealt with? This decision rests with Your Majesty."
The young Emperor was startled.
"Imperial Uncle means... you want me to decide?"
"Yes." Xie Qingyan's voice was calm. "Your Majesty is the Son of Heaven. Matters of such importance should naturally be decided by Your Majesty."
Little Deer Assistant 9528's voice sounded in Xie Qingyan's mind: "Suggestion: Just decide the punishment yourself. Why ask the young Emperor? It's a waste of time."
Xie Qingyan sneered internally. Letting the young Emperor decide—this is his opportunity to grow. This spirit's vision is limited to this much.
Supporting a young ruler isn't about making decisions for him. It's about teaching him to make decisions.
He ignored Little Deer and simply waited in silence.
The young Emperor gripped the armrests of the dragon throne tightly.
He looked at Prince Huai, pressed down at the side of the hall—this uncle he had once thought was too sickly to survive much longer had actually been coveting his throne all along.
Then he looked at the ashen-faced Prime Minister—this elder statesman he had once thought was a pillar of the court had actually been colluding with Prince Huai all this time.
He took a deep breath.
For a moment, he was just a scared child on a throne too big for him. Then something shifted. His spine straightened. His chin lifted. And when he spoke, his voice carried an authority that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside—somewhere that had been waiting for this moment.
"Prince Huai..." His voice trembled slightly, but quickly steadied. "Prince Huai committed treason. His crime is unforgivable."
"However, considering our shared imperial blood, I cannot bear to impose the ultimate punishment. He shall be imprisoned in the Court of Imperial Clan, stripped of his title, and never allowed to leave."
Xie Qingyan nodded slightly.
Well done. He thought. He didn't order an execution, but he didn't let him off lightly either. For a rebellious member of the imperial family, this punishment is perfectly appropriate. Merciful enough to show benevolence, harsh enough to serve as a warning.
The young Emperor continued: "The Prime Minister aided the rebellion. He shall be stripped of his position and handed over to the Ministry of Justice for investigation. His crimes shall be tried by the Three Judicial Offices and punished according to the law."
"As for the remaining accomplices..." He paused. "The principal offenders must be punished. Those who were coerced shall be pardoned. Those who surrendered voluntarily shall have their sentences reduced."
When this last sentence fell, every official in the hall was stunned.
"The principal offenders must be punished. Those who were coerced shall be pardoned"—this gave a way out to those who had been forced into participation.
"Those who surrendered voluntarily shall have their sentences reduced"—this was designed to break apart Prince Huai's remaining forces.
How could these words come from a seven-year-old child?
The officials exchanged glances. Some whispered: "His Majesty's decree..." "Has something of the late Emperor's bearing..." "The Regent has taught him well..."
Others were silent, reassessing the child they had dismissed as too young, too weak, too easily manipulated. Today, that child had proven them wrong.
In the crowd, a junior official from the Ministry of Justice bowed his head in relief. He had been the one handling the case of Lin Shusheng—the young merchant who had been arrested during the currency exchange investigation. With the Prime Minister's faction now dismantled, the innocent victims of their schemes could finally be released. That young man could go home to his ailing mother at last.
Hearing these words, Prince Huai's expression grew even more ashen.
He had expected the young Emperor to be frightened and confused, to cry and beg for mercy, to be scared out of his wits. But instead?
This seven-year-old child had just announced his punishment before all the civil and military officials, clearly and logically.
Neither too harsh nor too lenient. Perfectly appropriate.
This is impossible... Prince Huai despaired. This child is only seven... how could he...
He looked toward Xie Qingyan, his eyes filled with resentment.
It was him. He must have taught him.
Xie Qingyan watched the young Emperor, a flash of appreciation in his eyes.
"Your Majesty is wise." He bowed.
Yin Wuwang stood to the side, also nodding slightly.
This young Emperor... has the makings of a wise ruler. He thought. He knows when to be harsh and when to be lenient. This temperament is rare.
Fuguang taught him well.
His gaze fell on Xie Qingyan.
Sunlight streamed through the hall doors, falling on that purple-gold python robe, outlining that cold, elegant silhouette. Even after everything—the fake death, the coup, the battle—Xie Qingyan stood there as composed as ever, as if nothing could truly shake him.
But Yin Wuwang knew better. He had seen the exhaustion in those amber eyes, the tension in those shoulders. Fuguang had been carrying this burden alone for weeks, and he had never complained once.
Xie Qingyan was speaking with the young Emperor, his expression calm, his tone mild—nothing like the arrogance of a "power-hungry minister."
This person... Yin Wuwang thought. He could clearly decide everything himself, yet he gives the opportunity to the young Emperor.
He's clearly the all-powerful Regent, yet he willingly steps back to support the young ruler.
He's still like this.
Cold and unfeeling on the surface, but actually... kinder than anyone.
More... heartbreaking than anyone.
He remembered all the slander Xie Qingyan had endured these past days—"traitor," "power-hungry minister," "controlling the court," "oppressing the young Emperor"...
Those accusations had been everywhere. In the court, in the streets, in the whispered conversations of nobles and commoners alike. And through it all, Xie Qingyan had never defended himself against any of it.
He had simply done what he needed to do, silently. Bearing the weight of an empire's hatred so that a child could grow up to be a good ruler.
Fuguang... Yin Wuwang's heart ached. You fool. You magnificent, stubborn, self-sacrificing fool.
"Your Majesty."
A young eunuch ran in and knelt on the ground: "The Empress Dowager heard there was trouble in the palace and wishes to see Your Majesty."
The young Emperor looked toward Xie Qingyan.
Xie Qingyan nodded slightly: "Your Majesty should go. The Empress Dowager must be worried."
The young Emperor stood and took a few steps, then stopped.
"Imperial Uncle." He turned around. "What happened today... thank you, Imperial Uncle."
Xie Qingyan bowed: "This is simply my duty."
The young Emperor shook his head: "No."
His voice still carried a childish quality, but his eyes were serious: "I know that Imperial Uncle has suffered many grievances these past days. Being declared dead, being accused of treason, being called..."
He paused: "Being called a traitor."
Xie Qingyan said nothing.
"Before... I was also afraid of Imperial Uncle." The young Emperor lowered his head, his voice tinged with guilt. "Imperial Uncle always had a stern face and spoke harshly. Every time I saw Imperial Uncle, I didn't dare speak."
"But today..." He raised his head, his eyes reddening. "When I thought Imperial Uncle was dead, that's when I realized... how afraid I was of losing Imperial Uncle."
His voice cracked on the last words, and for a moment, he was just a child again—a scared, lonely child who had almost lost the only person who truly protected him.
Xie Qingyan was visibly moved.
Something flickered in those usually impassive amber eyes. For three thousand years as the Sword Deity, he had been respected, feared, worshipped—but rarely had anyone said they were afraid of losing him. Rarely had anyone looked at him with such genuine, uncomplicated gratitude.
"I know now that Imperial Uncle is not a traitor." The young Emperor said, his voice steadying. "Imperial Uncle does everything for me, for Great Zhou."
He took a deep breath, his voice firm: "From now on, I will remember today. I will be a good emperor and not let Imperial Uncle's efforts be in vain."
With that, he turned and walked out.
The hall fell silent.
Xie Qingyan watched the young Emperor's retreating figure, and the corner of his mouth curved into a slight arc.
This child... has grown up.
He's no longer the frightened boy who trembled at the sight of me. He's becoming a true emperor.
Perhaps... this is what makes it all worthwhile. All the slander. All the sacrifice. All the lonely years.
"Regent."
Yin Wuwang walked over.
Xie Qingyan turned his head and glanced at him.
"Duke of Zhenguo." His tone was mild. "Your wound is still bleeding."
Yin Wuwang looked down at his arm.
Indeed, it was still bleeding. The white bandage the guards had hastily wrapped around it was already soaked through with crimson. In the heat of battle, he hadn't noticed. In the chaos of the aftermath, he hadn't cared. But now, looking at it properly, even he had to admit it looked rather serious.
But he didn't care: "Just a scratch."
"A scratch?" Xie Qingyan frowned. "A cut three inches deep, and you call it a scratch?"
Yin Wuwang was taken aback.
How does he know it's three inches deep?
Did he look?
When did he look?
In the middle of a battle, surrounded by enemies, juggling political maneuvering and military command—when had Fuguang found time to assess the depth of his wound?
Unless... he was watching me the whole time.
The thought made his heart skip.
Xie Qingyan didn't explain. He simply turned to a shadow guard nearby: "Summon the imperial physician."
"That's not necessary—" Yin Wuwang tried to refuse.
"That's an order." Xie Qingyan cut him off. "The Duke of Zhenguo rendered great service today. This prince does not wish to see a hero die from excessive blood loss."
His tone was cold, as though he were merely discussing official business.
But Yin Wuwang heard something else.
This person... is he concerned about me?
Using this icy tone to say something caring...
He's always been like this. This stubborn personality hasn't changed one bit.
He didn't refuse again.
"Then I thank the Regent." He said.
Xie Qingyan made a sound of acknowledgment and turned to handle other matters.
Yin Wuwang stood in place, watching his retreating figure, unable to stop the smile tugging at his lips.
Fuguang really is... concerned about me.
Though he won't say it, his actions don't lie.
Summoning the imperial physician. Knowing the wound is three inches deep. Using "an order" to force me to comply...
This person, honestly, is just stubborn.
Just as stubborn as me.
Maybe that's why we understand each other so well. Two stubborn fools who can't say what they mean, showing affection through orders and arguments instead of words.
He looked down at the wound on his arm and suddenly thought—
This blade was worth taking.
A thousand blades would be worth taking, if it meant Fuguang would look at me with concern like that.
The imperial physician arrived quickly.
Yin Wuwang sat in a side hall, letting the physician tend to his wound. The old man tutted and fussed, clearly distressed by the severity of the injury, but Yin Wuwang barely noticed. His mind was elsewhere—replaying every glance Xie Qingyan had sent his way, every word, every almost-smile.
Xie Qingyan didn't come over—he was still in the main hall handling the aftermath. But Yin Wuwang knew that Xie Qingyan had sent someone to keep watch.
Because that shadow guard came in to check every incense stick's worth of time. Never saying anything, just glancing at the wound, at the physician's work, at Yin Wuwang's face—and then leaving again.
This person... Yin Wuwang smiled helplessly. He won't just say he's concerned. He has to use these roundabout methods.
Sending someone to check on me instead of coming himself. Giving orders instead of asking if I'm okay. Knowing the depth of my wound without ever seeming to look.
Fuguang, you think I can't see through you?
You're just as bad at expressing feelings as I am.
Maybe worse.
Whatever.
I'm used to it.
And honestly? I wouldn't have it any other way.
Because this—this stubborn, roundabout, impossibly indirect, utterly infuriating way of caring—this is Fuguang. And I love every frustrating bit of it.
[End of Chapter 35]
Next Chapter Preview:
Walking together through the palace corridors at sunset, Xie Qingyan suddenly speaks: "In the hall earlier, you almost called out the wrong name."
Yin Wuwang's heart stops for a full second.
Chapter 36: He Says "You Almost Called the Wrong Name"—This Duke's Heart Stopped for a Second