Chapter 15: Love Rival

Mingjing Hall

Yan Ling sat quietly in a grand armchair. Across from her, Xie Chongqing sat with composed ease, sipping tea. Wang Chen remained seated behind a zitan wood desk, while a celadon openwork incense burner beside him released thin curls of fragrant smoke, calming the mind.

“Lord Xie, have you recalled anything?” Wang Chen asked.

Only then did Xie Chongqing fix his gaze on Yan Ling. “I must have been mistaken.”

Yan Ling met his eyes directly—her gaze fearless and cold. Now that she was on Wang territory, she no longer feared him. Instead, a suppressed anger burned within her, urging her to confront him, to expose his hypocritical nature.

So much for his refined, gentlemanly facade—it was all a lie.

“However,” Xie Chongqing continued leisurely, “this young gentleman looks very much like a little sparrow I lost. That sparrow was quite disobedient—flew out the moment the window was left open. Had I known, I would’ve broken its wings entirely.”

Yan Ling trembled with anger. The insult was unmistakable. Little sparrow? Broken wings? As if there had ever been any intimacy between them.

She wanted to snap back, to call him insolent—but with Wang Chen present, she forced herself to endure it.

Her glare was sharp as blades.

Wang Chen chuckled softly and waved Xie Chongqing off. “Since there’s nothing more, Lord Xie may take his leave. A relative has come to visit today—I cannot properly entertain guests.”

Xie Chongqing rose, gave a perfunctory bow, and left.

Only after he exited did Yan Ling finally relax, her mind momentarily blank. It wasn’t until Wang Chen called her twice that she came back to herself.

“Your Highness returning safely was no easy feat.”

Yan Ling stood immediately, getting straight to the point. “Uncle, time is pressing. Can you send me back to the palace?”

Wang Chen did not answer. Instead, he shifted the topic.

“Yao Chong has betrayed the country. The Grand Marshal has led troops to suppress him. It’s now March—victory in Luoyang is imminent. When he returns, his prestige will soar. A general who recovers lost territory will command unquestioned loyalty.”

“And no one will oppose Prince Hui.”

Yan Ling’s heart sank. “Uncle… is that your stance as well?”

Wang Chen smiled faintly, as if her question were somewhat naive.

Yan Ling clenched the box hidden in her sleeve, her heart uneasy.

“Then what do you plan to do? Will you hand me over to Prince Hui?”

Still, Wang Chen did not answer directly. Instead, he studied her intently, his expression distant.

“You look very much like your mother.”

Yan Ling froze. “Do you… hate her?”

“No. I don’t hate her. What your mother did was right.”

Yan Ling hadn’t expected that answer.

Wang Chen’s expression softened with memory. “She was a pawn—controlled by the Wang clan, never allowed to make her own decisions. Even without her, other noble families would not have allowed the Wangs to monopolize power. That one time, she exposed the truth—earning a path of survival for herself and for you.”

“Better one man die than the entire clan perish.”

There was no grief in his tone when speaking of his father’s death.

Yan Ling felt a quiet disappointment. It seemed her uncle had no intention of opposing the Huan clan.

Returning to the palace was not just about seeing her father—she needed to reunite with her allies and reveal the item she carried.

She… would likely have to stand against the Huan clan.

She tested him carefully. “What if Father left an imperial edict?”

Wang Chen’s gaze sharpened instantly. “Who has it?”

Yan Ling answered calmly, “I do.”

“Give it to me.”

He extended his hand directly. Yan Ling broke into a cold sweat—she couldn’t read his intentions.

“It’s… in the palace.”

Wang Chen suddenly smiled.

Yan Ling hurried to add, “It’s in Yuqing Palace—inside my quarters.” She deliberately left room for doubt.

“Uncle, I ask that you send me into the palace.”

She had changed her approach—using this as leverage, hoping to persuade the Wang clan to switch sides. If they agreed, she would reveal the truth later.

After all, if Prince Hui ascended the throne, the Wang clan wouldn’t fare any better than now.

Wang Chen’s gaze deepened, as if seeing through everything. “Give me a few days to consider.”

Yan Ling held his gaze—but felt inexplicably guilty.

“If we delay any longer, I fear Father—”

“His Majesty has awakened. He is simply bedridden for now.”

Yan Ling froze, then brightened with relief. “Truly? That’s wonderful! Father must be worried about me. Since you can enter the palace, could you secretly deliver word that I’m safe?”

“That can be arranged.”

The heavy burden in her heart finally lifted.

“Thank you, Uncle.” She bowed deeply.

Wang Chen stopped her. “No need for such formality. Rest here in peace—I’ve already arranged accommodations for you.”

The sense of safety from the Wang household warmed her heart.

After leaving Mingjing Hall, Yan Ling’s expression was visibly more relaxed. She had already asked her cousin to bring Fu Li over—she couldn’t wait to share the good news with him.

“Your Highness seems quite pleased. It appears Lord Wang has agreed to something.”

A calm, low voice interrupted her.

Her smile froze.

Turning stiffly, she saw Xie Chongqing standing beneath the corridor, his green robes blending with the dark eaves like an ink painting.

“Why are you still here?” she asked coldly.

Xie Chongqing walked toward her.

Yan Ling immediately grew wary, instinctively stepping back. They were already far from Mingjing Hall.

“Your Highness is truly impressive—plotting your escape time and again.”

His tone was flat, though it sounded more like mockery than praise.

“Lord Xie speaks shamelessly. I am not your possession—yet you call my leaving a ‘plot’?”

Yan Ling let out a cold laugh, still irritated by his condescending attitude—and especially by the way he had likened her to a sparrow.

Step by step, Xie Chongqing closed the distance until they stood almost face to face.

The pressure was overwhelming.

Yan Ling’s breath caught.

She could smell the faint sandalwood scent on him. Just as she frowned, about to push him away—

Footsteps approached.

Fu Li and Wang Ke entered through the moon gate—and froze at the sight of how close the two stood.

Fu Li’s eyes darkened instantly.

Without hesitation, he snatched the short sword from Wang Ke’s waist, spun it in his palm, and hurled it forward with tremendous force.

The blade cut through the air with a sharp whistle.

Yet Xie Chongqing didn’t even turn his head.

He simply stepped back slightly—the sword grazing past his face before embedding itself deeply into a red pillar.

Yan Ling realized—

He hadn’t even blinked.

Wang Ke frowned, about to scold Fu Li, but Fu Li had already stepped in front of Yan Ling, his expression cold and dangerous.

Yan Ling lightly grasped his belt, silently letting out a breath of relief.

“Lord Xie, are you alright?” Wang Ke stepped forward, exasperated, trying to smooth things over.

He was displeased—the barbarian guard had gone too far. If anything happened to Xie Chongqing here, the Wang clan’s position among the aristocracy would worsen.

Still, since Fu Li was Yan Ling’s guard and acted out of loyalty, Wang Ke could only suppress his anger.

“This man lacks manners—but he was acting to protect his master.”

Xie Chongqing waved a hand indifferently. “He couldn’t hurt me.”

Anyone who knew him well would have recognized the killing intent beneath his calm.

Xie Chongqing might appear detached—but he was far from tolerant. In truth, he could be extremely petty, even harsh.

Especially when provoked by someone he considered beneath him.

“Today’s disturbance was my fault. I’ll pay a proper visit another day to apologize.”

With that, he nodded slightly to Wang Ke and left.

Before Wang Ke could respond, Yan Ling spoke first, “Cousin, Fu Li acted out of concern for me. Please forgive him.”

Wang Ke hesitated, then sighed and returned to Mingjing Hall.

Fu Li turned to Yan Ling, inspecting her anxiously. “Did that Xie fellow trouble Your Highness?”

Yan Ling smiled helplessly. “No.”

After a pause, she added, “Don’t act impulsively in the future.”

Fu Li shrugged. “He had improper intentions toward you first.”

He didn’t understand why—but seeing Xie Chongqing standing so close to her had ignited an uncontrollable anger in him.

An urge to kill.

He didn’t recognize the emotion for what it was—only that it made him deeply uneasy.

“Your Highness should be more cautious around him,” he said seriously.

“I know.”

The next day, Wang Chen entered the palace.

The towering halls rose along endless steps, vast and silent—so quiet that even a needle dropping would be heard.

Eunuch Liu signaled for the doors to open, and Wang Chen stepped inside. The air was thick with the scent of medicine.

Behind the curtains of the central bed, the emperor’s frail figure lay hidden.

Empress Huan sat at his side.

“Censor Wang, Prince Hui is currently handling state affairs. Matters of governance should be discussed at Taiji Hall.”

Wang Chen bowed slightly. “As Vice Censor-in-Chief, I have the right to advise His Majesty directly. Prince Hui governs temporarily—not absolutely.”

Caught off guard by his firmness, the empress’s expression shifted.

“Say what you wish to say to me,” she replied, restraining herself.

“Your Majesty, please withdraw for a moment,” Wang Chen said smoothly.

The empress’s patience snapped. “I would not dare place my trust in the Wang clan’s integrity.”

Her words carried implication—but Wang Chen remained unmoved.

“Please withdraw.”

His tone did not change.

Furious, she finally left with a sweep of her sleeve.

The hall was not empty—four attendants remained, standing like statues.

As Wang Chen stepped forward, a voice came from behind the curtain.

“Speak your business.”

The Yonghe Emperor’s voice was strange—slurred and unclear.

Wang Chen observed carefully. The emperor was still lying down—speaking from his bed.

After a moment, Wang Chen said, “Since Your Majesty can speak, I am reassured.”

“You are thoughtful.”

Wang Chen tested him. “There is much discussion among the officials about appointing a crown prince. Has Your Majesty made a decision?”

“I have,” the emperor replied.

“And what is Your Majesty’s decision?”

“My limbs cannot yet move. Tomorrow, I will announce it verbally.”

“But the Twelfth Prince has not yet returned…”

His words were deliberate—both probing and verifying Yan Ling’s claims.

“It matters not whether he is here,” the emperor said, sounding fatigued.

“Do you have anything else to say?” he asked impatiently.

Wang Chen narrowed his eyes.

“The Twelfth Prince has always been favored by Your Majesty. I assumed he would be chosen as heir.”

The emperor’s breathing suddenly grew heavier—then steadied again.

“Yan Ling? That traitorous son—do not mention him before me.”

Wang Chen’s gaze flickered with surprise. “Why does Your Majesty say so?”

“At the autumn hunt, everyone knows I was gravely injured by a white tiger—but what no one knew was that the beast was released by the Twelfth himself.”

“I suspect he isn’t missing—he’s hiding, too afraid to return.”

“Tomorrow, I will issue an edict to capture the fugitive—Yan Ling.”