Chapter 82: Meeting an Old Acquaintance Again

Yang Lian smiled quietly without speaking. His gaze was like fireflies in the night, possessing a unique charm that was deeply captivating.

Zhou Ehuang wiped her face and, seeing the mischievous smile on Yang Lian’s face, suddenly understood why he acted that way. She put down her hands and whispered, “This hunting trip by His Majesty was actually a pretext to observe the combat effectiveness of the Imperial Guards. The soldiers of the Divine Martial Army passed the test with flying colors. But honestly, this hunt was rather dull. We’re planning to organize another hunting event. Young Master Yang, will you join us?”

Yang Lian looked into her eyes, clear and bright like autumn waters, nodded, and smiled. “This time’s hunt will mostly be for the children of the capital’s high officials and nobles, I suppose.”

Zhou Ehuang’s eyes widened in disbelief. Before she could say anything, Yang Lian chuckled and waved his hand. “Don’t worry, Miss Zhou. Even if a tiger shows up, I can kill it.”

For a moment, Zhou Ehuang was stunned. She recalled the heroic image of Yang Lian slaying that giant serpent by Xuanwu Lake. She had once thought a man must be elegant, versed in history and culture, learned and refined. Most of the people around her fit that mold—women skilled in song and dance, men adept at poetry and music. But Yang Lian was different. He knew how to fight, how to save her in the deadliest moments; yet he could also play unfamiliar melodies in such places as the Xiaoxiang Pavilion. Those tunes, though unheard before, were irresistibly beautiful, filling Zhou Ehuang with curiosity about him.

Hearing Yang Lian say he wasn’t afraid even if a tiger came, Zhou Ehuang instantly felt he was reliable and trustworthy. She nodded and said, “That serpent last time was terrifying.”

Yang Lian smiled. “Just say the word, Miss Zhou. Whatever Yang Lian can do, I will never refuse.”

“Really?” A hint of joy flashed across Zhou Ehuang’s face.

“Really. I, Yang Lian, never lie,” he said firmly.

Zhou Ehuang nodded earnestly. “I’ll hold you to that. If you go back on your word, I won’t forgive you.”

Yang Lian extended his hand, curling all fingers except his pinky. “Back home, there’s a saying: when you promise someone something, you seal the oath with a pinky swear.”

“An oath? How interesting.” Zhou Ehuang harbored no ill feelings toward Yang Lian, nor did she see any difference between men and women in this regard, so she extended her fair hand and linked her delicate pinky with his.

“Now that the oath is sworn, you cannot regret it later,” Zhou Ehuang added.

Yang Lian withdrew his hand, the skin still tingling slightly from the contact. “A true man never regrets his actions.” He narrowed his eyes, thoughts wandering. Regret was useless; one must always look forward.

Soon, someone came to summon Zhou Ehuang—a young woman as well. Though not unattractive, she was no match for Zhou Ehuang, and far inferior to Princess Huairou. After seeing them off, Yang Lian continued strolling along the Qinhuai River, savoring the scenery on both banks. As the sun dipped low, he returned to the inn.

Upon seeing him, the waiter Xiao Erhei hurried over and reported, “Master, Prince Qi has arrived.”

“Prince Qi?” Yang Lian was somewhat surprised. He strode toward the back courtyard, where Prince Qi was drinking tea, his face etched with worry.

“Yang Lian, greetings to Prince Qi,” Yang Lian bowed as he approached.

“Yang Lian, you’ve finally returned,” Prince Qi Li Jingsui set down his teacup and beckoned him to sit. “Some troubling matters have arisen these past few days, leaving me quite unsettled.”

“What trouble, Your Highness?” Yang Lian inquired.

Prince Qi shook his head. “His Majesty has summoned me repeatedly, always about the same matter.” He paused, then continued, “When the late Emperor passed away, my elder brother pledged before the late Emperor’s coffin that he would treat me as a younger brother. At the time, I thought it a mere jest. Besides, my brother and I are close in age. Duke Dongping is in his prime youth; I believed he was more suitable to succeed the throne.”

“If Duke Dongping is fit, and Prince Qi has no desire to be heir apparent, then perhaps the position should be declined,” Yang Lian said calmly.

Prince Qi was momentarily speechless, unsure how to respond. After a while, he said, “But Duke Dongping is narrow-minded, and I…”

“Are you afraid that if Duke Dongping becomes emperor—or even heir apparent—he might move against you?” Yang Lian smiled slightly. Seeing Prince Qi’s expression darken, he continued, “Duke Dongping is young and impetuous. He showed his ruthlessness by attacking me fiercely during the recent contest, proving he disregards his promises. In his eyes, even family ties may mean nothing.”

“Prince Qi, you must think not only of yourself but also of Princess Huairou. That’s why you’re troubled and confused, uncertain of what to do, isn’t it?” Yang Lian asked directly. Sometimes bluntness worked best.

Prince Qi’s face grew even gloomier, sinking into deep melancholy. Yang Lian sighed softly inside; Li Jingsui was too weak-willed.

“Yang Lian, do you remember when you first met me? Back then, I was but a commoner. I told Your Highness that only when fate lies in your own hands can you avoid being oppressed by others. To seize your destiny, you must strengthen your power and gain greater authority. Being of the royal family, forgive my bluntness, but history shows us that royal struggles are the cruelest. Look at Tang Taizong, Li Shimin, or Tang Xuanzong, Li Longji—they both rose to supreme power through coups.”

“The higher you climb, the colder it gets. Once you’re in that position, certain things happen whether you wish them or not. To live well, to live brilliantly, and to protect your loved ones, you must learn from Li Shimin and Li Longji. You are a wise man, Prince Qi. You should understand what must be done.”

Yang Lian had spoken at length and felt somewhat weary. Settling himself, he sipped his tea slowly. Li Jingsui’s greatest weakness was his indecisive spirit; he needed constant encouragement.

Prince Qi fell into deep thought. He was well aware of the internal strife that had shaped the current dynasty—those fierce battles were not unknown to him. He was simply too timid to face them.

Still hesitant, Prince Qi’s indecision left Yang Lian with no immediate solution. After a while, they parted, and Prince Qi returned to his residence with his guards.

After washing up, Yang Lian went to bed early, specifically instructing Xiao Erhei not to disturb him. When the moon rose high, he donned black clothes and stealthily made his way toward Xiaoxiang Pavilion. Avoiding patrol soldiers, it took him a full hour to reach the pavilion’s outskirts.

Outside Xiaoxiang Pavilion, darkness engulfed everything. Inside, only a few lamps flickered, as the hour was late. Even if there were guests, they were busy with their affairs, oblivious to Yang Lian’s arrival.

Yang Lian knew the pavilion’s layout well. Zeng Yiling’s room was on the second floor, at the innermost section along the Qinhuai River. As Yang Lian quietly approached, he saw the light in her room had been extinguished—she must have gone to sleep.

He chuckled inwardly at himself, feeling like a man stealing a treasure in the night. Just as he was about to climb over the wall and up to the second floor, he suddenly heard light footsteps. Yang Lian quickly hid in the shadows. The footsteps drew closer—clearly a woman’s.

Dressed in black and exuding mystery, the woman took a few steps toward Zeng Yiling’s room, glancing up and down.

Who could she be? Yang Lian wondered. The woman pulled a grappling hook from her bosom, flung it upward, and the hook caught firmly on the windowsill. Swiftly, she began to climb to the second floor.

Yang Lian turned his gaze slightly. There was no time to ponder who she was. He sprang forward, reaching the window. Grabbing the rope, he gave a strong tug. With a crack, the windowsill broke, and the hook fell.

The woman felt the sudden lightness in her hand, heard the snap, and knew something was wrong. Yet she remained calm, pressing her feet against the wall, leaping down gracefully. Her movements were light and silent. She crouched slightly upon landing to absorb the impact.

Yang Lian looked back just in time to see the woman frowning, her bright eyes lifting to meet his own.

Without a word, Yang Lian stepped forward two paces and reached to tear off the veil covering her face. Naturally, the woman would not make it easy. She endured the pain, stood, and blocked his hand. But Yang Lian’s strength and speed were formidable; she could not hold out long. Her ankle ached, and within moments, she was at a disadvantage. Yang Lian pressed the attack relentlessly.

“Smack!” A sharp sound rang out as their arms collided. The woman’s eyes welled with tears, thinking what a savage man he was.

Seizing her momentary lapse, Yang Lian grabbed the black veil and pulled it down.

“Ah, it’s you?” Yang Lian exclaimed, astonished. The woman was so familiar to him that he was taken aback.

She too was stunned to hear his voice. Seizing the chance while Yang Lian hesitated, she swiftly pulled off the veil covering his face. “Why is it you?”

Caught off guard by her counterattack, Yang Lian revealed his true identity. Yet he wondered what Mi Shiwei was doing here, and why she intended to scale the wall of Xiaoxiang Pavilion.

Before he could speak, chaotic footsteps sounded nearby—patrolling soldiers who must have heard the noise, rushing to investigate.

Yang Lian cursed silently. Although he now held an official rank of fifth grade, appearing here in black attire was suspicious. He prepared to flee.

Mi Shiwei took a few steps but suddenly cried out in pain. Though skilled, she had injured her ankle during the fall from the second-floor roof and could barely move.

Yang Lian glanced back, knowing she could not be captured by the soldiers. Without hesitation, he scooped her up in his arms and dashed into the vast night, vanishing without trace.