That night, inside the tent outside the city, the Minister of War and the Zhenyuan General were speaking in secret.

As early as on the road returning to the capital, some rumors in the capital regarding the Ninth Prince had already reached the Zhenyuan General’s ears. He had wanted to enter the city to ask the Minister of War where these rumors came from, yet he had not expected the Minister of War to hastily come outside the city to find him first, explaining to him the matter he had witnessed with his own eyes that day at Changchun Temple.

If what that Taoist nun said at that time was true, then the one spreading this news now could be none other than the Emperor himself.

Otherwise, if it were not tolerated by the Emperor, how could such rumors possibly grow more and more rampant right under the feet of the Son of Heaven’s imperial city?!

After the Minister of War had accidentally learned the truth of Lu Huan’s origins at Changchun Temple that day, on one hand he sent people to investigate the matter discreetly, and on the other hand he temporarily bided his time, sealing away this news, and even secretly sending people to protect that daogu.

But he had never expected that before his plans could unfold, the Emperor had already begun to suspect something during the assassination incident in Yunzhou.

Although the Emperor’s thoughts were unfathomable, at this moment there were traces to follow. He first released the rumors, and tonight again summoned Lu Huan into the palace in the middle of the night—he must have already decided to announce it to the world in the Golden Throne Hall tomorrow.

The Minister of War felt somewhat complicated and said, “When we attend court tomorrow, the heavens may very well change.”

Both he and the Zhenyuan General knew how great an impact it would have on the entire political situation if a prince were to suddenly appear out of thin air in the imperial palace—or rather, if a prince’s identity were to be restored.

Now in the court, anyone who had chosen a side stood either with the Crown Prince or with the Fifth Prince. The Second Prince also originally had some supporters, but ever since he had repeatedly claimed illness, avoided the northern frontier war, and shown an air of having no ambition and only seeking self-preservation, his presence had grown increasingly faint.

And the Emperor’s intentions had always been impossible to grasp. He practiced the art of balance; whenever any prince showed even the slightest rise, he would suppress him, and whenever any prince fell behind, he would strongly support him. It made the civil and military officials completely unable to see who he intended to pass the throne to.

But now, a Ninth Prince—the youngest in age—had suddenly appeared, and he was actually the child left behind by that Imperial Consort Qing who once made the entire palace fall silent in fear. Judging from the Emperor’s consecutive actions, the Emperor showed clear partiality toward this Ninth Prince.

Although the Emperor had summoned him into the palace secretly tonight, there were no walls truly airtight in the capital. Since the Minister of War could receive the news, there must certainly be other officials who had received it as well.

Therefore, by tomorrow, it was very likely that civil and military officials would immediately try to curry favor with Lu Huan.

The sudden appearance of the Ninth Prince shook the Crown Prince’s position and overshadowed the Fifth Prince’s reputation among the common people. The two of them would undoubtedly feel extremely uncomfortable, and although the other princes were not at the center of the chessboard, they would also be heavily affected.

Thus, the chessboard of the capital would likely be reshuffled.

At that time, who knew which family’s power, whose head, would be implicated and shaken.

The Zhenyuan General was a military officer who had long fought on battlefields. He was not skilled in the twists and turns of the imperial court. His thoughts and considerations were much simpler than those of the Minister of War. After hearing from the Minister of War that Cavalry Captain Lu Huan might very well be the Ninth Prince left behind by Imperial Consort Qing back then, he was naturally shocked beyond measure, but what arose immediately afterward was joy.

“Why need you worry yourself sick? The common people have long suffered. As long as one has the ability to sit in that position, he is worth our support! Previously this old man was worrying that although I’d found someone to inherit my mantle, as a subject, no matter how capable he is, he would not escape the same fate as I—either dying on the battlefield or dying at the Emperor’s hand due to suspicion. But who would have imagined he is actually the Ninth Prince? Like this, what he can accomplish for the common people in the future is far more than what I, a mere military man, could ever achieve!”

The Minister of War was moved by the Zhenyuan General’s wholehearted devotion to the people. However, after thinking it over repeatedly, he still felt something was not quite right.

He said to the Zhenyuan General, “I too greatly admire the Cavalry Captain; it is indeed best if he is the Ninth Prince. However, in the past few months I have investigated his conduct in the year and a half since he entered court as an official, and I found that whether it was providing relief to the sick at Yong’an Temple, establishing the Kaifeng farmstead, or marching to war and procuring grain, and even to the point of being discovered by His Majesty regarding his origins—all of it has been a bit too smooth.”

“It is as though—” The Minister of War furrowed his brows and paused. “As though there has been a hand behind him all along, pushing everything forward.”

Yes—one thing after another, as though from the very beginning everything had been set up to send him back into the position of His Highness the Ninth Prince.

And the planning was extremely thorough.

First, at Yong’an Temple, under the guise of a young divine physician, he treated refugees and won the hearts of the people. Then, through the Qiuyan Mountain hunt, he entered the Imperial Academy, and through Commander Yun he entered the Ministry of War. Through managing the Ministry and displaying his skill in mounted archery at the archery grounds, he gained the admiration of both himself and the Zhenyuan General, and successively completed several great tasks that earned him the people’s support—procuring grain, opening the farmstead, and providing disaster relief for three prefectures. With these layers of groundwork laid, the Yunzhou assassination no longer seemed like an accident, but rather—as though he had known in advance, using the opportunity to approach the Emperor and let the Emperor discover his origins.

Each link connected to the next—winning the people’s hearts, amassing wealth enough to rival a nation, and gaining the support of himself, the Zhenyuan General, and someone like Wan Sanqian.

Once his origins were revealed, it was as if everything had already been prepared, simply waiting for the curtain to be lifted.

At this moment, in the Emperor’s eyes, he was not merely the child left behind by Imperial Consort Qing, not merely the Ninth Prince—more importantly, he was “the young divine physician who once saved the common people at Yong’an Temple,” “the unknown divine merchant who opened granaries and earned the people’s heartfelt gratitude,” and “the young Cavalry Captain who returned from the battlefield with glorious military achievements.”

Tell me, with so many accomplishments added together, how would the Emperor not be eager to restore his identity, using this to build up the imperial family’s reputation and gather the hearts of Yan’s people?

And without all of this—in fact, as early as a year and a half ago—when his identity was merely that of a concubine-born son of Prince Ning’s manor, if someone had told the Emperor that he was the prematurely born child of Imperial Consort Qing, the Emperor would likely not have believed it and would instead have punished him heavily! Even if he had believed it, he probably would not have so easily restored his identity as the Ninth Prince.

No matter which link of this chain one considered, it was impossible to think all of it could have been accomplished by Lu Huan alone. Even if he were a young genius, what about the agricultural techniques and the greenhouse structures that had gradually taken root in Yan? Could those also have been invented by him?

So, this means that as early as Yong’an Temple and Qiuyan Mountain, Lu Huan and whoever stood behind him had already arranged every step?

But at Changchun Temple that day, when Lu Huan learned of his own origins, his astonishment had not seemed feigned—the Minister of War had seen it with his own eyes. So before that moment, Lu Huan had been completely unaware of his own identity.

Then, from the beginning—who exactly had been stirring the waters…?

The Minister of War racked his brain and could not understand. Unable to find even the slightest trace of anyone behind Lu Huan, he could only suppress his doubts for now and temporarily leave the matter unspoken.

───♡───

Meanwhile, in the Imperial Garden at this very moment, Su Xi was made extremely flustered by Lu Huan’s gaze—her face felt as hot as a boiled duck. She turned her eyes away, wanting to change the subject, but Lu Huan still stared at her without blinking, to the point that her mind completely short-circuited and she had no idea what to say.

At this critical moment, Su Xi’s phone suddenly went dark—out of battery, shutting down on its own—

Su Xi: !

The screen went black, and she could no longer see Lu Huan’s stubborn expression nor those eyes that left her flustered. Only then did she quietly breathe a sigh of relief.

Su Xi hurriedly stood up and slapped her phone, crying out exaggeratedly, “No battery? Oh no, no battery, that’s awful, it really ran out!”

“Zai, can you still see me?!” She waved toward the air and said with deep regret, “My phone’s out of battery, looks like I can only log off first, wuwuwu, be careful on your way back from the palace!”

Lu Huan, still standing in the Imperial Garden: “……”

The charger is right by your right hand.

After observing her world for a long time, he had discovered that she often used a white cord to connect her brick-like device to a socket. Gradually, he had learned the names of such things—many appliances required a charger; hot water bags did, and so did phones.

Su Xi tossed her phone aside and rushed into the bathroom. She turned on the faucet and splashed cool water onto her burning cheeks.

Meanwhile, Lu Huan remained standing in the Imperial Garden for a long time. Only when the chill of the night seeped in from his collar did he finally loosen the fingers he had been clenching so tightly they had turned pale. Then he followed the curved pebble path and walked toward the palace gates.

He had hoped, restrained himself, and endured far too long.

He had spent half a year gaining some grasp of her unknown world, and with the two hundred points right within reach, he would certainly be able to meet her. On this matter, he would not allow any mishap… or perhaps, it was because so many others had appeared around her recently—the “school grass” blocking the doorway, the letters stuffed into her desk, the childhood friend who knew her so well. All these brought on a sense of crisis, making him clearly understand—

He could no longer proceed slowly.

Just now, he had also been extremely nervous. Seeing her relieved expression when she turned off the screen, his heart felt helpless and disappointed… but no matter what, Lu Huan was someone who did not understand the meaning of retreat. Even if he had to wait until the end of time, he would wait.

───♡───

Su Xi barely slept that night. She tossed and turned, inexplicably flushed all over. She was afraid that if she couldn’t fall asleep, Lu Huan—whose screen had still been on earlier—would see her like that, so she tugged the blanket up over her head, trying her best not to move, not to reveal her messy state of mind.

The result was that the next morning she had two dark circles under her eyes. Su Xi looked into the mirror and was startled.

The final exams were already over. Su Xi returned to school to pick up her final exam papers and summer homework; the summer holiday had officially begun. Normally, aside from the busiest exam days, she would log on every few hours to check how her little Zai Zai was doing. But after that heart-to-heart in the Imperial Garden last night, her cheeks burned, and she didn’t dare go online so casually.

As she walked out the school gates, Huo Jingchuan and Gu Qin were coming toward her from the convenience stall. Huo Jingchuan, careless as always, instinctively reached out to hook his arm around her neck. “Let’s go home together, Xixi.”

Usually Su Xi would just swat his arm away and tell him to get lost, and if she couldn’t avoid it, she would just let him loosely hook her shoulder. The three of them had grown up together since childhood; there were absolutely no distinctions of gender between them. But for some reason today, the moment she saw Huo Jingchuan, her eyelid twitched. She glanced up at the air above her, feeling guilty for no reason, and instantly jumped a full meter away, warning, “Don’t touch me.”

Huo Jingchuan: “…Are you running a fever?”

After all, in ancient times men and women did not casually make physical contact. Even though Lu Huan had begun learning modern culture, his mindset certainly hadn’t fully changed yet. If he saw Huo Jingchuan hooking an arm around her shoulder, his face would definitely darken… and who knew, maybe his eyes would even redden, storm clouds gathering overhead…

“I’m not feverish.” Su Xi carefully avoided Huo Jingchuan, preventing his salty pig hands from getting anywhere near her.

And so, with Huo Jingchuan speechless, Gu Qin bewildered, and Su Xi alert like a frightened rabbit, the three of them each carried their summer homework back home.

Su Xi stepped into the entryway to change shoes and heard her mom on the phone with a friend, saying that recently someone had been sending her gifts—fruit, bird’s nest, health supplements—always leaving them with the security guard along with a note telling her to accept them. Su Xi’s mom was puzzled yet delighted: “The handwriting is even really nice, brush calligraphy, so elegant it’s unbelievable…”

Su Xi didn’t pay much attention. She carried her homework upstairs to her room, tidied her desk a little, and planned to finish all her summer homework in the next few days so she could fully relax for the next month or two.

She dawdled, checking her phone every few minutes, as if waiting for someone’s message. In the end she couldn’t resist, she plugged it in and went online.

When court convened today, the Emperor indeed announced, just as he had told Lu Huan at the Yangxin Hall, that he would bring back the Ninth Prince—who had been raised at Changchun Temple and was now seventeen—and restore his identity as the Ninth Prince.

The moment these words fell, everyone was shocked; the Golden Throne Hall boiled over. And when Lu Huan entered the hall in the robes of a prince, the civil and military officials were even more stunned.

When the Zhenyuan Army returned to the outskirts of the capital, the first person the Emperor secretly summoned was not the Zhenyuan General, but a mere Cavalry Captain in the army—this had already sparked speculation among many officials who had gotten wind of the matter that night. Some clever ones had already guessed, while many more were only now staring in astonishment.

Lu Huan had never attended court before, yet among the civil and military officials there were many who knew him—especially the Fifth Prince and the others. No matter how they strained their minds, they could not understand why someone who had clearly been only a concubine-born son of Prince Ning’s manor was now declared by the Emperor to be the child of Imperial Consort Qing. Although thinking a little further made it obvious—Imperial Consort Qing’s death must have held hidden twists; not only had she secretly given birth, she had even secretly sent the child out of the palace—but why, after seventeen years, would the Emperor suddenly want to recognize the Ninth back?!

And earlier there had been so many rumors in the capital about the Ninth Prince serving the country and the people? Could it be that all of it was meant as groundwork for today’s announcement in the Golden Throne Hall?

The princes’ expressions were all difficult to describe. The Fifth Prince in particular stared at Lu Huan with an exceedingly ugly expression.

One of the Prime Minister’s—and the Empress’s family’s—faction could not help raising a challenge in the Golden Throne Hall: “Your Majesty, the identity of a prince is no small matter. Is there evidence to confirm it? If anyone dares deceive the ruler, it is a grave crime!”

The Emperor let out a cold laugh. “Evidence? I am the evidence. Is Aiqing doubting me?”

The moment these words fell, that official was dragged out and thrown directly into prison. With such decisive action, the Emperor silenced the entire court of civil and military officials.

The Emperor then summoned the Grand Historian to compile the scroll, and would choose a date to announce it to the world.

The matter was settled. Though it caused an uproar, under the Emperor’s insistence it was hammered into place. And what shocked the officials even more was that somehow, without anyone noticing, the Zhenyuan General, the Minister of War, Commander Yun, and the others had already quietly taken their places behind the Ninth Prince. The most difficult people in court to win over were surely the Zhenyuan General and the Minister of War. These two held military power in their hands, did not form private factions, and were not men who could be won with a few boxes of gifts or beauties—yet this Ninth Prince… everyone looked at him with complicated expressions. Just how had he done it? He had only just had his identity restored, yet these formidable figures had already resolved to stand behind him.

With this, the civil and military officials lowered their eyes and stilled their hearts, and quiet changes began to happen within them…

If the court was a surging storm, the shifts in power throughout the capital were even more drastic.

By the time Su Xi came online, the matter had already been unfolding for half a day. She located her little Zai Zai on the map and found him at the residence he had hastily purchased before heading to the northern frontier. It had been bought in a rush back then and had not yet been properly arranged.

Now it seemed to have been conferred as a Prince’s Manor, with the steward and the Imperial Guards moving things in for him.

A night banquet was to be held this evening, and the Emperor would also attend.

At this moment, the manor’s main gate was nearly worn down by the number of footsteps—countless officials from the capital had come with congratulatory gifts, celebrating the Ninth Prince’s return.

The capital was like this—fawning over power, lifting the high and trampling the low. Those who had interacted with her little Zai Zai before were in utter shock. They never expected that the Ninth Prince, who had been the subject of all the recent rumors, really existed—and was actually the young Cavalry Captain under the Zhenyuan General who had rendered great service in the northern frontier war!

Officials who understood the times cared nothing about where her little Zai Zai had been or what he had been doing before. All they cared about was that now he was the Ninth Prince declared by the Emperor’s golden decree, and thus His Highness the Ninth. They rushed over to curry favor.

The main gate of the Ninth Prince’s Manor was bustling with congratulations from officials, but after searching for a while, Su Xi found her little Zai Zai near the side gate, seemingly dealing with some troublesome matter.

She switched the interface over and saw—

At the side gate, several Imperial Guards were blocking a somewhat disheveled old madam. The old madam struck her silver cane against the ground, her face furious. “Lu Huan, you ungrateful wretch, it was I who sent you into court as an official. You were clearly a concubine-born grandson of Prince Ning’s manor—how have you suddenly become a prince?!”

Those of Prince Ning’s manor had already fallen apart mentally when they heard the news coming from the Golden Throne Hall. Clearly he had been a concubine-born son of their manor, so why did the Emperor say he had been raised at Changchun Temple since childhood? How had he suddenly become the Ninth Prince?

Princess Ning and the brothers Lu Yuan and Lu An recalled how they had tried to deal with Lu Huan before—how not only had they failed, they had repeatedly failed—and how it had always felt as though someone were protecting him. Now they trembled, feeling as though the sky were collapsing.

If the one they had offended was truly the Ninth Prince, then they were finished! Thinking back now—could the downfall of the Shangguan family have been related to Lu Huan as well?!

Princess Ning and the others were filled with both hatred and panic, but they were now mud Buddhas crossing the river—unable to protect themselves—and had no ability whatsoever to deal with Lu Huan, who was already the Ninth Prince.

The one who felt her vision go dark and her head spin the most was the old madam.

From the moment Lu Huan entered court as an official, she had always pinned her hopes on this concubine-born grandson of Prince Ning’s manor, expecting him to rise and bring glory back to the Ning Manor. Who could have imagined that in the end, Lu Huan truly did become someone of exalted status—yet he turned, not into a stepping stone bringing prosperity to the Ning Manor, but into His Highness the Ninth Prince, a figure far beyond their reach. The piece she had hoped to use for Ning Manor’s benefit vanished in an instant.

She was so furious she fainted, and when she woke, she wanted to rely on her age and seniority to demand an explanation from Lu Huan.

But Lu Huan was no longer who he used to be. With Imperial Guards by his side, she could not even get a glimpse of him. In her rage, she began making a scene and shouting insults—only then did Lu Huan come out to see her.

The steward of the Ninth Prince’s Manor was personally appointed by the Emperor. Watching the old madam throwing a tantrum, he shouted angrily, “Dowager Consort of Prince Ning, do you know that insulting a prince in public is a capital crime? Your concubine-born grandson has already died in battle; His Majesty will naturally treat Prince Ning’s manor well. But if you continue this crying and shouting, your entire household will face execution.”

The old madam choked on a mouthful of blood, staring at Lu Huan with such hatred she nearly wished to drag him down with her. She struggled forward, almost being thrown out by the Imperial Guards.

Lu Huan lifted his hand, signaling the Imperial Guards to stop.

The old madam desperately pushed forward, grabbed his clothes, and pinched him hard, her eyes nearly splitting apart. “It was I who sent you into court—everything you have today is because of me!”

When Su Xi saw the old madam grabbing her little Zai Zai like that, she clearly saw him frown, obviously from pain.

She was furious. The first fourteen or fifteen years her little Zai Zai spent in the Ning Manor, this old woman had never cared once. Even if he had died, she wouldn’t have blinked. Everything—from winning first place at Qiuyan Mountain to stepping into the official path was achieved by her Zai Zai himself. What did the old woman have to do with it?!

The only thing she had ever “given” him was that tiny firewood courtyard—but even that was something her Zai Zai had exchanged his life for, saving her from the freezing stream!

And now she dared accuse him of being ungrateful? What grace had she ever shown him?!

If it weren’t for the deeply ingrained virtue of respecting elders, Su Xi would have yanked the old woman off him herself.

“You gave me neither birth nor upbringing. Where does ‘ingratitude’ come from? If you stop making trouble and give up your greed, Prince Ning’s manor will be fine. But if you come again, don’t blame me for being discourteous.”

Lu Huan looked at the old madam indifferently. He slowly pried her fingers off his robe and instructed the guards beside him, “Send her back to live out her remaining years peacefully.”

The old madam looked as though all her hopes had been shattered. Her hair seemed even whiter. Why were her other two grandsons useless wastrels, and just when she thought she could rely on Lu Huan to restore the Ning Manor’s former glory… he turned out not to be of Ning blood at all?

All because of that wretched woman who had given birth to Lu Huan back then!

The old madam had already lost her senses and wanted to continue screaming, but the Imperial Guards covered her mouth and dragged her straight out the side gate. The servants who had brought her in the sedan chair trembled all over, abandoned the chair, and fled.

───♡───

The front gate of the Ninth Prince’s Manor was bustling, but the side gate was a mess. Lu Huan lowered his eyes to glance at his robe, torn from the old madam’s grabbing, and frowned slightly before turning inside to change. The steward hurriedly ordered the Imperial Guards to watch the manor carefully and not allow anyone else to come and cause trouble.

Lu Huan entered the room and first lifted his sleeve to take a look. Su Xi saw that his arm had been pinched completely purple. He was used to such minor injuries and barely reacted, but Su Xi’s eyes carried a bit of distress.

The old woman with no blood relation treated him “well” only to use him. The Emperor who shared blood with him treated him “well” also with calculations and intent.

Seeing one of his hands was inconvenient, Su Xi helped smooth his sleeve and said, “I’m here.”

The frown on Lu Huan’s face eased as though he had seen sunlight. It smoothed, relaxed, and he smiled as he lifted the curtain. “You’re here.”

The moment Su Xi saw him looking at her, the image of his burning gaze in the Imperial Garden flashed across her mind, and she instantly felt uncomfortable all over again.

She didn’t speak, and he didn’t speak either—he simply looked at her.

“……”

The two of them once again fell into a strange atmosphere.

The flush and rapid heartbeat Su Xi had finally managed to suppress suddenly surged back uncontrollably. Her face warmed again. She coughed lightly and said, “Does it hurt? Why didn’t you dodge just now?”

“It hurts.” Lu Huan let out a soft, sorrowful sigh. He sat down on the bed, lifted his head, and said to Su Xi, “It seems there’s another spot at the back of my shoulder. It’s bruised, hurts badly. But I can’t reach it myself.”

Su Xi’s eyelid twitched. Wh–what did that mean? Was he implying she should help him… massage it?

Lu Huan stood up, undid his outer robe, and in his snow-white inner garments he looked like a frost-covered pine. He rolled up the right sleeve of his inner garment, rolling it all the way to his shoulder, revealing a clean, sharp-lined, slender arm. The skin at his shoulder looked as though coated with a layer of white glaze.

Su Xi: …!

She almost thought he was about to start undressing, but thankfully he only rolled up one sleeve.

He looked at Su Xi, showed her the bruise behind his shoulder, and repeated once more, “It hurts.”

Su Xi stared at his clean, strong arm, face flushing and heart racing. She stammered, “If you can’t reach it yourself… shouldn’t there be ma… maids or someone in the manor? Besides, you know the strength through a phone isn’t accurate. I won’t massage it properly.”

Lu Huan looked steadily at her, sighed softly, and sat down again with his arm hanging. “You weren’t like this before. Before, when I was sick with wind chills, you…”

He seemed to think of past events and grew a little melancholic, letting out another deep sigh.

Su Xi: …?

No—before you were a chubby white dumpling. Seeing everything didn’t matter… But now, just looking at one strong arm is enough to make a person’s heart pound.

“The other night you asked me about the Emperor. I said the Emperor is a heartless Son of Heaven, easily swayed by new favor.” Lu Huan lifted his dark lashes, his voice faint and sorrowful. “Xiao Xi, your conduct now… is no different from the Son of Heaven.”

Su Xi’s mind buzzed at his complaint. Seeing him raise his head, clearly ready to continue uttering some devastatingly tragic line, her scalp tightened. She hurriedly said, “Stop, stop! Fine, I’ll massage it, okay?!”

Lu Huan lifted his arm, the tips of his ears faintly red.

Su Xi resigned herself to poking at his arm—poke, poke—and then pulled out some bruise-healing medicine from the shop and applied it.

She didn’t know why—back when he was still a little dumpling, doing all this felt completely natural. But now, just looking at the pale skin of his shoulder made her feel feverish.

“Ah…” Seeing her hesitate, Lu Huan was about to sigh again.

Su Xi gritted her teeth. “Ah what— I am massaging! One more ‘ai’ and I’m logging you off!”

Lu Huan looked aside. Though he tried hard to restrain it, his eyes still glinted with a faint, bright joy.