Chapter 3: Captivity

Yan Ling looked at him with terror written across her face.

Silken, glossy black hair cascaded down her back to her waist, carrying a faint sweetness mingled with the earthy scent of soil, stirring one’s heart against one’s will.

“Yes… I—I’m not a man,” Yan Ling swallowed several times and forced herself to stay calm.
“I pose no threat to you at all.
Don’t kill me.”

Rain slid down her luxuriant brows and eyes, stinging so badly she could scarcely keep them open.

“Ha.”

Mockery surged in Xie Chongqing’s eyes, so sharp it nearly pierced Yan Ling’s heart.

In that instant, she felt unbearably ashamed.

A woman, standing here playing at self-deception, pretending to be a man—
no wonder Xie Chongqing mocked her.

The rain grew heavier.
The wind roared.
Footsteps of assassins drew closer.

“We didn’t find anyone.”

The black-clad assassins slid down the slope, searching along the trajectory where the two had fallen, yet finding no bodies.

“Could they have escaped?” one of them asked unwillingly.

The leader stared into the bottomless abyss below.
“Seal off this mountain.
Even if he’s alive, he won’t get out.”

After the assassins left, a figure emerged from a cave at higher ground.
The place was extremely well-hidden.
These assassins were clearly unfamiliar with the terrain—far inferior to Xie Chongqing, who hunted here year after year.

He carried Yan Ling in one arm across his chest.
The girl leaned against him, her face washed clean by rain, her complexion translucent.
The blood mark on her neck had already scabbed over.
Her long lashes trembled lightly, but she did not wake.

News of the Twelfth Prince’s assassination attempt soon swept through the traveling palace.
The Emperor flew into a rage and ordered the 羽林 Guards and the Tiger Guard to seal the mountains and conduct a full search—not even a fly was to be let through.

Yan Yi knelt in Yan Ying Hall.
A memorial was flung straight at his face before he could dodge, striking his cheek.

Fu Li knelt beside him as well, soaked through and lifeless as ash.

“How are you fit to be an elder brother?”

Emperor Yonghe clutched his chest and coughed violently, nearly unable to catch his breath.
The imperial physician steadied his back and immediately fed him a pill.
When he looked up again, his face was deathly pale, his lips drained of all color.

“Father Emperor, this son is at fault.
Please punish me,” Yan Yi said, kneeling deeply, his voice choked.

“What use is punishing you?”

Emperor Yonghe’s eyes flickered.
For a moment, guilt nearly overflowed—
but it was soon replaced by resolve.

Yan Yi truly regretted it, hating his own uselessness.

“Your Majesty,” Fu Li said hoarsely, his lips pale, despair written all over him.
“This servant failed to protect His Highness.
Please allow this servant to atone by merit and search the mountains.”

Emperor Yonghe raised his head, his gaze sharp as fire.
“You indeed failed in your duty.
Go receive twenty strokes first, then get lost and search.”

Yan Yi hesitated, wanting to plead for Fu Li.
After all, without him, Yan Yi would already be dead.

But Fu Li accepted the order in silence and left without a word.

“Yan Yi,” Emperor Yonghe said coldly,
“Do not soften your heart toward those you should not.”

This son of his was always soft-hearted where he should not be.

Within the imperial family, fratricide was commonplace.
Even fathers and sons were not spared.
Yet he possessed a rare, guileless heart.

---

When Yan Ling opened her eyes, she was dazed for a moment.
What met her gaze was a wooden bed frame, white hanging gauze, and a pillow so hard it made her neck ache.

She shifted slightly, tugging at the injury on her waist, and hissed softly.

The curtain was abruptly lifted.
A maid helped her sit up.
“Madam, you’re awake?”

Yan Ling froze.
Madam?

She lowered her head to look at herself.
She had already been changed into a snow-white ruqun.
Her black hair lay loose like satin down her back.

She fell into confusion.
For a long while, her memories refused to return.

“Where is this place?”

“This is the Xie Residence.
This is a side room of the household head’s sleeping quarters.
You were saved by the family head.
This servant is called Qingtáo, and I’m here to attend to you.”

The Xie Residence…

Yan Ling remembered now—
Xie Chongqing pressing at her throat, demanding to know where the secret edict was.

She threw off the quilt and tried to get out of bed.
The instant her bare, pale foot touched the carpet, a piercing pain shot through her ankle.

Her legs gave out, and she dropped to her knees.

“Madam, are you all right?” Qingtáo hurriedly helped her up.

Suppressing the pain, Yan Ling asked,
“Where is your family head?”

“The family head has gone to the palace and hasn’t returned yet.”

Yan Ling’s heart filled with anxiety.
Her disappearance would surely worry Father Emperor.
His health was already poor—if he were further agitated…

Her thoughts were in chaos.

Qingtáo helped her back onto the bed and poured her a cup of water.

Yan Ling looked around.
The furnishings were elegant and refined—
celadon-spotted porcelain, a gilded crane incense burner carved with floral motifs,
and the step-bed she lay upon, fitted with an inlaid mother-of-pearl screen painted with tranquil landscapes.

A ceramic side table stood nearby, holding white jade tea ware and a black porcelain vase with a single hibiscus branch.
Every detail revealed the owner’s fastidious and exacting taste.

The Xie clan of Chen Commandery truly lived up to its reputation—
its wealth rivaled even the palace.

She asked softly,
“What time is it now?”

Qingtáo replied respectfully,
“Madam, it is now a quarter past You hour.”

Yan Ling gazed toward the window.
Rain pattered down as bamboo branches lashed in the wind, echoing her restless heart.

Before long, Qingtáo had servants bring in a light meal for her.

By the time Hai hour arrived, night had deepened.
The heavy rain outside had softened into a fine drizzle, dripping from the eaves in long strings of water.

Xie Chongqing finally returned.
Through the curtain of rain, his tall figure approached with an oil-paper umbrella in hand.
His posture was graceful, his expression distant and cold.

Reaching the eaves, he bent slightly to change into wooden clogs before stepping inside.

Qingtáo withdrew on her own initiative and closed the door behind them.

Yan Ling limped toward him.
The fear and resentment from her brush with death surged back the moment her gaze swept across his face.

But under another’s roof, one had no choice but to bow one’s head.

She forced herself to remain calm.
“Why did you bring me here?”

Xie Chongqing shook the rain from his damp sleeves before looking at her coldly.
“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you why you pretended to be a prince for so many years?”

Yan Ling’s palm curled involuntarily.

Since childhood, Father Emperor had warned her never to expose her identity,
often citing the words of high monks as admonition.

Silence filled the room.
Xie Chongqing’s deep gaze rested on her, an invisible pressure building like an approaching storm.

Just as the tension reached its peak, moisture suddenly welled up in Yan Ling’s beautiful eyes.
A pool of spring water gathered—
then fell without expression.

Xie Chongqing looked down at her coldly.
His brows slowly knit together, his gaze sharpening in scrutiny.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?”
“I’m a fake.
I’ll no longer threaten your Prince Hui.”

Xie Chongqing remained silent, unmoved.

“The reason.”

“My mother consort was greatly favored in the harem.
She placed too much expectation on my imperial brother.
But he was… dull.
You know this too, Shaoshi.
My mother was disappointed, so—”

“So Consort Shu had Your Highness present yourself as a prince, to secure her favor,”
Xie Chongqing finished for her.

The mockery in his eyes was so heavy that even without meeting his gaze, Yan Ling could feel it.

Consort Shu hailed from the Langya Wang clan,
a beauty who once dazzled all of Jiankang.
After entering the palace, she enjoyed uninterrupted favor, even eclipsing Empress Huan at one point.

Unfortunately, the Langya Wang clan was too ambitious, dreaming of overthrowing the Yan imperial house.
Fortunately, Consort Shu defected at the critical moment, cutting that ambition short.

All said that the Twelfth Prince was the Emperor’s most beloved.

Yet who would have thought that the most treasured “son” was guilty of deceiving the throne?

Yan Ling took a deep breath, secretly breaking into a cold sweat,
afraid Xie Chongqing might sense the lie.

“Where is the secret edict?”

Xie Chongqing bent closer, his gaze pressing straight into hers.

Yan Ling met his eyes calmly, though they were red and stubborn.
“You already know my secret.
Does the secret edict still matter?”

Xie Chongqing studied her for a long moment.

Yan Ling stepped back, the oppressive air making it hard to breathe.
“When will you send me back?”
“Have you reported this to my Father Emperor?”

“No.”

Yan Ling frowned.
“What do you mean?”

“The traveling palace has been sealed.
The 羽林 Guards are searching the mountains, the Tiger Guard guarding the gates.
The Zhonglang General is a direct scion of the Huan and Yu clans.
If Your Highness were caught—”
His voice dropped.

Yan Ling gave a cold laugh.
“Even if I’m a fake, in name I’m still a prince.
Would they dare openly harm me?”

Xie Chongqing let out another soft scoff, clearly mocking her naïveté.

“What if it were Prince Hui or Prince Ji?”

“Could you…”
She asked quietly, swallowing her shame.

“No.”
He cut her off calmly.
“Why should I risk offending them to help you?”

The unspoken meaning was clear—
saving her life already counted as indulgence.

“Then why did you save me at all?”
With every path blocked, Yan Ling rarely showed such confusion.

“Naturally…”
“A hostage.”

Yan Ling understood.
After a while, she spoke slowly,
“When do you plan to send me back?”

Xie Chongqing avoided the question.

“Zhúqīng Courtyard has already been prepared.
Please move there, Your Highness.
For the time being, you must conceal your appearance and live in seclusion as a woman.”

Yan Ling turned her head away.
“What if I refuse?”

Xie Chongqing did not care.
“You have no right to choose.”

“Then if they ask—who am I supposed to be?”

“My concubine.”
Xie Chongqing tugged at the corner of his lips.

Yan Ling’s pupils shrank violently.
She rejected it at once.
“No.”

“You have no right to choose,”
Xie Chongqing repeated.

“Xie Chongqing, you’re shameless.”

She glared at him through clenched teeth.
His black eyes were filled with cold darkness.
Then he let out a short laugh.

“You usually look so timid.
Who knew you had such a temper.”

He signaled with his eyes.
Qingtáo helped Yan Ling onto a wheelchair and pushed her away.

---

In Zhúqīng Courtyard, Qingtáo attended her bath and oral cleansing.
Steam filled the room.
Her nightwear had been prepared in advance.

In the bronze mirror, the woman had flushed cheeks, watery eyes, cherry lips, and snow-white skin—
a beauty capable of toppling cities.

Qingtáo combed her hair with a magnolia sandalwood jade comb and couldn’t help exclaiming,
“Madam’s hair is truly beautiful—dark and thick.
It would look stunning when styled.”

Yan Ling touched it unconsciously.
The woman in the mirror felt utterly unfamiliar.

She could not stay here like this.
She had to find a way to secretly contact her confidants and send word to Father Emperor.

Qingtáo introduced the members of the Xie household, speaking endlessly of Master Fan, the one most favored by the family head.

Yan Ling’s heart stirred.
“Then there are those not favored?”

“Of course.
There’s a scholar of humble birth named Gōngsūn Zhǐ.
The retainers all say he’s just here to freeload.”

The news that the Xie Residence had taken in a concubine naturally could not be hidden.
Though the household was not large, the Xie clan had shown beneficence for four generations.
Everyone knew Xie Chongqing was aloof, indifferent, and disinclined toward women.
This sudden development shocked everyone.

Xie Chongqing’s parents had died early, but he had many siblings.
Quite a few were already married, their ties spreading in all directions, forming a tangled web of relationships.

They learned that this concubine always appeared veiled, extremely mysterious.
Her background could not be uncovered at all.
Only that she had been personally brought back by the family head.

---

Two days passed, and there was still no news of the Twelfth Prince.
Emperor Yonghe was furious to the extreme and coughed up more blood.

Yan Huan saw his state and a trace of coldness flashed through his eyes.
“Father Emperor, please take care of the dragon body.
Twelfth Brother will surely be safe.”

Emperor Yonghe gasped for a long while.
“How goes the investigation of the assassins?”

“They haven’t been caught.
The assassins were highly trained.
Apart from chaotic footprints and traces of combat, nothing else was found.”

Yan Yi looked haggard.
He glared at his brothers without hiding his hostility.

“Eighth Brother, what is that expression?”
“Are you dissatisfied with me?” Yan Huan raised a brow.

“How would this subject dare,” Yan Yi sneered.

His sarcasm was written plainly on his face.
Seeing this, Emperor Yonghe covered his mouth and coughed, cutting short his foolishness.

Unable to withstand his exhaustion, Emperor Yonghe dismissed everyone to rest.

“Your Highness.”

Xie Chongqing caught up with Yan Yi, walking beside him.

“What is it?”
Yan Yi cast him a cold glance, unwilling to converse.

“If this minister hadn’t shot that fox halfway through, the Twelfth Highness wouldn’t have gone deeper into the forest and encountered the ambush.”

His expression was calm, his tone earnest.
Anyone familiar with him would only praise how flawless the performance was.

Yan Yi, not one for subtlety, snorted.
“If you feel guilty, then contribute more.”

“This minister keeps a hunting dog with an exceptionally keen nose.
Once it smells something, it can track it even a hundred li away.”

Yan Yi whipped his head around.
“Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

Xie Chongqing smiled faintly.
“Too many eyes and ears.
I hope Your Highness understands.”

Yan Yi suddenly realized.
“I know—you think it was Second Brother too, don’t you?
I also think he can’t be unrelated.”

Xie Chongqing’s brow twitched almost imperceptibly,
his understanding of this Eighth Prince’s lack of brains deepening further.

Seeing the topic veering further astray, Xie Chongqing probed,
“If Your Highness could take this minister to the Twelfth Highness’s residence to retrieve a personal garment, my hunting dog could be of use.”

Yan Yi, unaware of the schemes beneath, immediately grabbed him enthusiastically.

“There’s no time to lose.”