Chapter 50

After hearing Helan Ji’s words, Qixue’s first reaction was utter disbelief.

It was not that he distrusted Helan Ji; he trusted Ji Yuheng just as much and believed Ji Yuheng would not deceive him. Ji Yuheng had clearly promised him that he would not become the Crown Prince.

Yet the facts were right before his eyes. If Ji Yuheng had no desire for the Crown Prince position, why had he entered the third round of the competition? It made no sense.

The more Qixue thought about it, the more ominous it seemed. Events were unfolding in the direction he least wanted, yet he still refused to believe it. Could Ji Yuheng have been lying to him all along?

Clinging to a sliver of hope, he sought Helan Ji’s opinion. “Ji Shizi clearly wrote that petition stating he did not wish to become the Crown Prince. Why would he suddenly change his mind?”

Helan Ji shook his head slightly. “I do not know. I will ask him after the competition ends.”

Seeing that even Helan Ji was in the dark, Qixue gazed down at Ji Yuheng from the platform, his eyes filled with bewilderment.

Instinctively, he thought it would be better if Ji Yuheng died in the jaws of a demon—that way, none of this would happen. But now, he could not bear to wish death upon Ji Yuheng. He had no intention of sabotaging the competition either, fearing he might lose control and cause an accident.

This had nothing to do with backlash; he genuinely cared about Ji Yuheng’s safety.

With no other choice, Qixue sat anxiously on the Moon Terrace, watching Ji Yuheng intently.

Ji Yuheng selected a fine steed, communed with it briefly, then hung a quiver on its back. He slung a longbow over his shoulder, grasped the reins, and mounted.

Among all the imperial clansmen and nobles present, Ji Yuheng was the only one participating in the third round. The Zhu Yan Guards escorted a massive cage wagon from the Demon Beast Garden, containing an exceptionally ferocious man-eating demon.

The demon was called Xiqu. It was enormous, with sharp, long horns sprouting from its head, pitch-black fur, and cries like an infant’s. Upon smelling the scent of living flesh, it flew into a frenzy, slamming against the cage with drool streaming from its mouth, cracking the stone tiles beneath the wagon wheels.

Many paled at the sight of Xiqu. The fine steed Ji Yuheng rode pawed the ground in fear, intimidated by the demon qi, but Ji Yuheng remained calm and composed. He patted the horse’s neck to soothe it, then signaled the Zhu Yan Guards to open the cage.

“Screeech…”

The cage door swung open, and Xiqu roared as it charged out, barreling straight toward Ji Yuheng.

Its roar was eerie and terrifying, its charge earth-shaking. Its hooves thundered like lightning, shattering the thick stone bricks and kicking up clouds of dust.

The sheer momentum was enough to strike terror into hearts. Even from above, Qixue felt breathless with tension. Yet Ji Yuheng did not dodge; he clamped his legs against the horse’s flanks, and it shot forward like a shooting star.

Xiqu crushed more and more bricks, making the ground increasingly uneven and treacherous for the horse, but Ji Yuheng’s posture remained steady. His eyes locked onto Xiqu’s head. He released the reins, drew his bow, and nocked an arrow.

Xiqu closed in, its gaping maw aimed at Ji Yuheng on the horse’s back. Qixue’s heart raced; he clenched his fingers tightly, dreading the sight of Ji Yuheng torn in two.

In that instant, Ji Yuheng loosed his shot. With a whoosh, the arrow’s cold gleam flashed, plunging powerfully into Xiqu’s left eye. Blood sprayed out, blooming into a mist of crimson.

“Aaah—!”

The thick stench of blood wafted on the wind. Xiqu’s shrill wail echoed through heaven and earth—high-pitched like a child’s cry, yet a hundred times more sinister and eerie.

Amid this hair-raising screech, Ji Yuheng did not pause. He fired two more arrows in quick succession, striking Xiqu’s right eye and tongue with precision.

Blinded, Xiqu fled in panic and crashed headlong into a stone pillar. Its bulky body flipped over; it flailed its stubby limbs but could not rise.

Blood mixed with saliva stained the ground. It exposed its soft underbelly, and Ji Yuheng fired his final arrow, piercing its heart.

A long, mournful howl reverberated across the Parade Ground, lingering for a long time. Xiqu’s breath ceased entirely, its eyes wide open in death as it lay on the ground.

“Excellent!”

“The Shizi is a true hero of our age, a real man!”

The crowd was utterly convinced by Ji Yuheng’s display. Cheers erupted deafeningly, wave after wave, refusing to die down.

Qixue finally relaxed his suspended heart and let out a slight breath of relief. Only then did he notice his palms were slick with sweat.

Ji Yuheng dismounted, borrowed a precious sword from the Zhu Yan Guards, and gutted Xiqu. He extracted the heart and collected the most valuable heart blood, dripping it into wine. Blood wine could prolong life.

His hands stained with blood, he lowered his gaze and knelt, offering the blood wine to Helan Ji and Qixue. “Thanks to His Majesty and the Mother’s blessing, this subject has fulfilled his duty and slain Xiqu.”

Eunuch Xue fetched two cups of blood wine and presented them to Helan Ji and Qixue. The bloody smell made Qixue want to vomit; he refused to drink no matter what. In the end, Helan Ji drank both.

After draining the blood wine, Helan Ji said to Ji Yuheng, “Come with Us.”

He rose and headed toward the palace behind the Moon Terrace. Ji Yuheng immediately ascended the platform and followed.

As he brushed past Qixue, Ji Yuheng lowered his eyes briefly, meeting Qixue’s gaze. But before Qixue could decipher the look, Ji Yuheng walked into the palace without looking back and closed the doors.

Qixue sensed Helan Ji intended to discuss establishing the heir. He wanted to follow and eavesdrop, but with Ji Yuheng closing the doors and the Zhu Yan Guards immediately guarding them, under the eyes of the crowd, he had missed his chance. He could only sit back down and wait anxiously outside.

Inside the grand hall, only Helan Ji and Ji Yuheng remained.

Helan Ji sat and said, “You performed splendidly, far exceeding Our expectations.”

“Thank you for the praise, Your Majesty,” Ji Yuheng replied.

Helan Ji continued, “Though the Grand Herald must still rank the competitors, We know you will take first place. You excel in both civil and martial arts, with pure ambitions and upright conduct—a rare talent for governing the state. We hold great hopes for you. Ji Yuheng, tell Us: are you willing to shoulder Great Yong’s fate and inherit the East Palace?”

Ji Yuheng knelt and performed a deep bow. “This subject is willing.”

Helan Ji regarded him for a moment before asking, “If you desire the Crown Prince position, why did you write that petition? Were you deliberately putting on a show for Us?”

“This subject dares not,” Ji Yuheng said, still bowing his head. “Before this, this subject truly had no intention of entering the East Palace and opposed Your Majesty adopting a clansman’s son as heir. I only changed my mind yesterday.”

Helan Ji asked, “What happened yesterday to change your mind?”

Ji Yuheng explained, “Yesterday, this subject realized a truth, related to an oriole bird.

“After arriving in Shangjing, this subject took morning walks near the Government Hostel every day. I often saw a brightly feathered oriole perched on a branch, singing crisply and melodiously. I loved it but never disturbed it, content to admire its song from afar.

“I believed the oriole was born free, its song belonging to all living things—not for private ownership or caging for amusement. So I never thought to capture it. But not everyone shares that view. Yesterday, I found the oriole trapped in a tiny birdcage, hanging under the eaves.

“The oriole looked listless; it broke my heart. I offered a fortune to buy its freedom, but the owner was from a wealthy, prominent family unmoved by money. He wanted the bird’s beauty for himself.

“I was chased away and wandered the streets in despair, pondering one question: what was truly best for the oriole? If I captured it first and gave it a spacious room to fly in, would it be happy?

“But clearly not. No matter how spacious the room, it was not the sky—just a larger cage.”

By this point, Helan Ji knew what he meant. “So you wish to become the master of this land, issue laws forbidding the capture of orioles, so this bird can gain true freedom and protection.”

Become the master of this land.

The words were grave lese-majeste. Coming from Helan Ji’s mouth, it was a direct challenge to Ji Yuheng.

In the past, Ji Yuheng would have apologized in fear and trepidation, but today he simply replied calmly, “Yes. As Crown Prince, this subject can protect this oriole.”

Helan Ji pressed, “And if We wish to cage this oriole? Would you oppose Us?”

“This subject dares not. This subject would only destroy all birdcages, leaving Your Majesty unable to bind the oriole.”

His reason for becoming Crown Prince was not merely to compete with Wei Huai; it was because he loved Qixue. He wanted to protect Qixue.

Wei Huai was arrogant and selfish, no good match. Their affair would eventually be discovered by His Majesty.

What he needed to do was delay and conceal it as long as possible. Once deception failed, he would eliminate Wei Huai and any risk of discovery.

To achieve this required supreme power. He refused to remain a mere Shizi, separated from Qixue by thousands of miles in Shangjing, reduced to distant longing via the jade bracelet, dying in lonely old age.

He wanted to stay by Qixue’s side, guarding him thus.

Ji Yuheng prostrated himself, kneeling motionless, awaiting Helan Ji’s judgment. After a long silence, Helan Ji spoke coldly.

“Very well. We grant you this chance to become master of this land.”

—

Five days later, the ceremony to invest the Crown Prince began at an auspicious hour.

As the ceremony unfolded, Qixue lay listlessly in bed, pulling the covers over his head to block out the faint sounds of ritual music drifting in.

He had claimed illness and skipped the investiture ceremony—first, because he did not want to witness Ji Yuheng’s enfeoffment; second, because he truly felt unwell these past few days. It was not severe: just loss of appetite, inability to eat much, and constant fatigue.

When he learned Ji Yuheng would become Crown Prince, Qixue was deeply hurt. Though he had suspected it, the confirmation felt like betrayal—rage and heartbreak, disbelief that Ji Yuheng had truly deceived him.

Perhaps the blow was too great; upon returning to Chenglu Palace, he fell ill without apparent cause. The Imperial Hospital physicians took turns examining him but found no explanation.

He attributed his discomfort to Ji Yuheng, convinced it was anger-induced.

The more he dwelled on it, the more resentful he grew, feeling mocked by Ji Yuheng. He refused to let him become Crown Prince and, despite his malaise, tried to sabotage the proceedings.

But whenever he schemed covertly, misfortune struck in various forms. After two or three attempts, he dared not continue.

It seemed he could not change the tide alone. Better to recuperate and avoid worrying His Majesty. These days, his illness had kept His Majesty distressed, sleeping poorly and suffering headaches multiple times. Qixue ached for him too.

Fortunately, the Holy Monarch would enter the palace that afternoon with medicine; Qixue could ask him to examine him—and more importantly, consult on countermeasures for the future.

Lost in these thoughts, Qixue dozed off again. When he awoke, Dong Yuan served him some plain congee. Suddenly, a young eunuch outside announced, “His Highness the Crown Prince has come to pay respects to the Mother.”

“What does he want?”

Qixue was irritated and snapped coldly, “Tell him to get lost!”

Yet the person outside entered anyway, knelt by the bed, and said with bowed head, “This son pays respects to Mother Concubine.”

Qixue turned and saw Ji Yuheng in dark blue Crown Prince robes, ornate and heavy with dark gold embroidery, accentuating his elegant, refined poise like a jade tree in the wind.

In a rage, Qixue flung the half-eaten bowl of congee at him. “I told you to get lost—did you not hear?”

The congee soiled the precious robes, but Ji Yuheng knelt unmoving. “Please take care of your health, Mother Concubine. Do not be angry with this son.”

“You…”

Qixue lacked the energy to argue; anger made him dizzy. Helpless, he pretended Ji Yuheng was invisible, rolled over to face the bed’s interior, and prepared to sleep.

He had slept too long earlier, so now he couldn’t fall asleep at all. In the midst of the silence, he heard the rustle of fabric. Ji Yuheng crawled on his knees to the bedside and called out softly, “Mother Concubine.”

Qixue couldn’t stand it anymore. He sat up and sneered coldly, “One ‘your son,’ one ‘Mother Concubine’—you sure call them smoothly enough. Didn’t you say you admired me? Now I’m your stepmother. How does it feel to have the object of your affections as your stepmother? I don’t see you looking all that heartbroken.”

Ji Yuheng’s gaze trembled. Qixue’s sarcasm wounded him deeply, and a look of loss and pain surfaced on his face. He murmured, “I didn’t want to… I really didn’t want to.”

“You didn’t want to, and yet you’re still doing it—becoming Crown Prince!”

Qixue slapped him hard across the face, venting all his sorrow and rage. “You lied to me! You betrayed me! You clearly said you wouldn’t become Crown Prince, and I foolishly believed you. How could you… how could you toy with me like this…”

By the end, Qixue’s voice trailed off.

He was truly heartbroken. If it had just been the plan failing, he wouldn’t have reacted so strongly. What he couldn’t accept was Ji Yuheng’s betrayal of trust. He had really come to like Ji Yuheng quite a bit. This disappointment from misjudging someone pierced him the deepest.

A fresh red palm print bloomed on Ji Yuheng’s jade-like face, but he felt no pain—Qixue had already carved his heart like a knife. “Why? Does me becoming Crown Prince make it so hard for you to accept?”

Qixue replied coldly, “Yes. I can’t accept it.”

“But why?” Ji Yuheng clenched his fists tightly. “Only by becoming Crown Prince can I stay in Shangjing. Yet you’ve always opposed me becoming Crown Prince. Do you hate me that much? Don’t you want to see me at all?”

Qixue was so furious that his head spun even worse. He blurted out without thinking, “Yes, I despise you. I don’t want to see you at all. Even seeing you makes me—”

His remaining words caught in his throat. He widened his eyes in shock, his pitch-black pupils reflecting Ji Yuheng’s face.

Ji Yuheng leaned down and kissed his lips. His face was pale, his eyelashes trembling fiercely. Even kissing the one he loved brought him no pleasure whatsoever.

The kiss was fleeting, meant only to silence Qixue. After a light brush of their lips, Ji Yuheng quickly pulled back.

He knew he shouldn’t have kissed Qixue—now Qixue was his mother concubine. But he truly couldn’t bear to hear any more. His heart felt like it was being torn apart by Qixue; it hurt too much, even more than that day when he had been forced to overhear Qixue and Wei Huai’s intimate pleasures.

Ji Yuheng kept his eyes lowered, not daring to look at Qixue. He feared seeing even greater hatred and disgust on Qixue’s face.

But Qixue showed none of that. He merely touched his lips in a daze, a faint blush tinting his ears. “You… you kissed me?”