*Clatter, bang, crash—* a series of noisy sounds rang out.
Ye Zhao, dressed in grey coarse hemp clothes, was squatting on his roof patching holes. As the only young male in the household, who else would do this job if not him? Of course, he wasn't alone; several members of the Yulin Guards were sprawled across the roof working alongside him, serving once again as free labor.
"Ye Zhao, I’ve suddenly realized you have a real talent for acting."
After Xin Muyi’s defeat, the crowds surrounding the house had dispersed. Jiang Ziqi had snuck over shortly after Ye Zhao slipped home, only to be immediately dragged into helping with the repairs. He stood on a ladder, passing tiles up to Ye Zhao, his mouth never stopping for a second.
Ye Zhao tossed a piece of broken stone down from the roof. Keeping his hands busy, he replied, "Oh, I can't compare to you. You’re the true master of theatrics."
"What’s that supposed to mean? Master of theatrics?"
Without looking up, Ye Zhao replied, "Nothing much. I’m saying you’re impressive."
When it came to being dramatic, who could possibly compete with Jiang Ziqi?
Hearing this, Jiang Ziqi waved a hand bashfully, acting coy. "Aiya, I still say you’re the impressive one. Look at how badly you fooled Xin Muyi. I bet he’s convinced Lord Tianshu has returned. Tsk, tsk..."
At the time, Jiang Ziqi had been sweating bullets for Ye Zhao down in the audience. Who could have predicted the ending would take such a turn? It was truly cinematic. For a brief moment, the thought had even crossed his mind that Xin Muyi was a bit easy to fool.
But he knew that was impossible. He couldn't understand how Xin Muyi had fallen for it so easily. Ye Zhao hadn't even said much at first, yet the man became certain he was Tianshu.
Jiang Ziqi sighed with emotion and suggested, "Ye Zhao, why didn't you reveal your identity at the end? You might have become a legendary figure just like Young Master Yusong."
"Forget people coming to smash your roof; there would probably be plenty of people lining up to help you fix it. *Sigh*..." He listlessly climbed up and down, handing over tiles.
Ye Zhao straightened his back, took a breather, and wiped his sweat. "Aren't the two of us already 'legendary figures' known to every household in the Celestial Capital?"
Jiang Ziqi was momentarily speechless. "...That’s not the same."
Other people were famous as paragons of virtue; the two of them were notorious for being the exact opposite. How could that be the same?!
Ye Zhao knew exactly what he meant and sighed. "A man fears fame as a pig fears fattening. You know what kind of false rumors are flying around about me. If word got out that it was Ye Zhao who ended that chess match, believe me, the moment I stepped out tomorrow, I’d be called 'Tianzhu' instead of Ye."
"Once the title of 'Son of Tianshu' is set in stone, I’m afraid I’ll never be able to untangle myself from Lord Tianshu for the rest of my life."
It was a mess of complications he wanted no part of. Ye Zhao shook his head, his expression one of blatant helplessness and distaste.
Jiang Ziqi’s thoughts synchronized with the Yulin Guards: "..."
Something others would beg for was treated with utter disdain by this guy.
Jiang Ziqi asked bluntly, "Are you really that unwilling to admit to that identity?"
In his eyes, the rumors were ninety percent true. Only Ye Zhao was still stubbornly clinging to his own version of the story.
"What do you mean 'admit'?" Ye Zhao reflexively countered with a roll of his eyes. "Three men make a tiger, and public clamor can melt gold. Is something right just because everyone thinks it is? The truth is often held by the minority. Why should I let others tell me my own 'reality'? I know my own business. The words of others can pass through my mind, but they must not enter my heart."
Jiang Ziqi pondered Ye Zhao’s words and found them somewhat reasonable, but there was too much confusing evidence. The scales in his heart wavered. Finally, he remembered something from before and asked, "Then tell me, how did you know so much about Lord Tianshu’s affairs? That back-and-forth you had with that female assassin didn't sound like something made up on the spot. You couldn't have just been talking nonsense for that long, could you?"
*If you were, then you two are truly something else...* His expression clearly broadcasted this thought.
"..." Ye Zhao fell silent for a moment. Back then, he really hadn't been able to help himself, and the questions had delved deeper than intended. After about two seconds, he said, "Didn't you see that she couldn't answer half of them?"
Translated: he was talking nonsense, and she was talking nonsense, but her skills weren't up to par.
"Some things I learned from chatting with Shi'an and the others. After hearing them talk so much, I naturally picked up a few things." Ye Zhao spoke easily, his eyes full of indifference.
Jiang Ziqi clapped the dust off his hands and sat down beside him. The two sat side by side as a light breeze brushed their faces. Jiang Ziqi seemed lost in thought and didn't speak for a while. He cupped his face in his hands and, after a long silence, suddenly sighed. "I haven't seen Rongrong in days," he said gloomily.
...
It hadn't even been that long, and the form of address had already changed to this. Ye Zhao paused, then asked, "The question I asked you a few days ago—have you figured it out yet?"
"...No," he replied. "Ye Zhao, what can I even do?"
He began to list his options. "If I pass the exams and become an official, even with good luck, it would take years to get a promotion. As for the path of a military general... *sigh*, let’s not even mention it."
"Why is it so hard to catch Minister Li’s eye?" He had been thinking for days but was still at a total loss.
With the roof finished, the two sat there in the wind, having a heart-to-heart. Ever since Jiang Ziqi realized that the people popping up around Ye Zhao were Yulin Guards, he had given up on keeping any secrets. They had surely dug up everything about him already.
Sitting at a height felt different from usual; it made one's perspective feel broader.
In fact, Ye Zhao had an idea a few days ago. He spoke hesitantly to Jiang Ziqi: "You can't rely on family background, so you can only start with yourself. But have you ever considered that perhaps being an official isn't suited for you?"
Based on Ye Zhao’s years of knowing Jiang Ziqi, to put it bluntly, his prospects on the official career path were bleak.
Jiang Ziqi knew this himself. He sighed, "I know... but if I don't become an official, what else can I do?"
He was neither skilled in letters nor in martial arts. Jiang Ziqi felt like he was the definition of a failure, looking as wilted as an eggplant hit by frost.
Ye Zhao gazed at the distant sky, thought for a while, and said softly, "Then we’ll just have to find another path..."
"Huh?" Jiang Ziqi was dazed, not understanding what he meant.
"Let me think about it more. I’ll tell you once I’ve worked it out." Ye Zhao had a plan in mind; he just needed to refine the idea before telling Jiang Ziqi. With that, he climbed down the ladder.
"Hey! Wait for me!" Jiang Ziqi immediately realized his friend had an idea and followed close behind.
***
Five more days passed. Xin Muyi’s emotions had stabilized, and his health was gradually improving. The Xize envoys were returning to their country, and the Crown Prince led the officials to the city gate to see them off.
The streets were lined with commoners, all of whom were there to enjoy the spectacle. Most were mocking and sarcastic; after all, the Xize party had been so arrogant recently. Now that they were returning in defeat, many people couldn't resist kicking them while they were down.
In the dilapidated little tea house by the street corner, business was booming today. The second floor was filled with familiar faces. From this vantage point, one could see everything happening at the city gate without having to squeeze through the crowds, making it a highly coveted spot.
The tea house waiter was working today, but there were too many customers, so Ye Zhao, as the manager, naturally had to help out.
"What kind of tea is this?" a young nobleman who had come with Xie Yusong asked, his brow furrowed. "Why is it so bitter..." He took one sip and didn't want a second.
Ye Zhao happened to be bringing tea to the table next to him. He turned his head to answer, but then saw Su Jinzhou let out a light chuckle. His cold, elegant face gained a touch of vibrant color as he smiled at Ye Zhao. "It is naturally the unique tea of Manager Ye’s shop. You likely won't find it anywhere else."
*Uh... haha.*
Sensing the teasing in his words, Ye Zhao gave an awkward laugh, nodded a few times to the young nobleman who was looking over, and quickly slipped away. As the son of a high-ranking official with a powerful family, that young man lived a refined life; he probably didn't even know what old, low-quality tea tasted like, which was why he hadn't realized what it was.
Xie Yusong had recognized it, of course, but said nothing. Consequently, almost every table ordered one pot of tea and never asked for a refill, allowing Ye Zhao to relax soon enough.
He sat down next to Jiang Ziqi and began watching the scene in the distance. Hearing people nearby suddenly discuss the masked man in black from a few days ago, Ye Zhao acted as if he hadn't heard. Xie Yusong and the others who knew the truth looked toward Ye Zhao but did not expose the matter.
A large crowd had gathered at the city gate. The one bidding farewell to Crown Prince Wei Ze was another Xize envoy. As for Xin Muyi...
He was not in good shape. He looked as though he had suffered a major illness—his face was pale and sallow, and he appeared incredibly frail. He sat in a blue-grey carriage, propped up by an attendant.
As the procession was finally about to depart, he gently lifted the carriage curtain, driven by some unknown impulse to take one last look at this city.
"*Cough... cough...*"
Hearing his coughing, the person beside him urged, "My Lord, please lower the curtain. Be careful of the wind."
"I know..." Xin Muyi was about to lower his hand when his gaze suddenly froze. His body went rigid.
That... that was...
His eyes were fixed on the back of the crowd.
At the same time, among the people standing by the windows of the tea house, someone mused, "Hey, that’s Xin Muyi, isn't it? It looks like he’s looking over here."
Someone questioned, "You must be seeing things."
A few seconds later, the man they were discussing suddenly stepped down from the carriage and walked several paces toward the crowd, heading exactly in their direction. But after just a few steps, he stopped.
"My Lord? My Lord!" The person behind Xin Muyi hurried to catch up and stopped him. "My Lord, what is wrong?"
"Did... did you see him?" His face was ashen, tinged with a deathly grey. His eyes were fixed unblinkingly in one direction as he spoke in a daze.
"What?" the person asked, confused. See what?
Xin Muyi’s lips trembled. "Tian... Tianshu... Tianshu!"
He was utterly lost, as if he could see nothing else in the world except the person he was looking at.
"My Lord, you are mistaken. There is no Lord Tianshu," the person explained, following his gaze and frowning. "My Lord, let me help you back to the carriage." They all believed Xin Muyi was having another episode.
Wei Ze and the others also turned to look back. The people in the tea house were now certain that the previous person was right—he really was looking at them. But why?
Some guessed: No, he isn't looking at us, but at *him*.
—Ye Zhao.
The distance from the city gate to the tea house was neither too far nor too close; it was just enough to see a person's silhouette, though the expression on their face would be blurred.
Xin Muyi stood rooted to the spot. After a long while, he seemed to come back to his senses.
"You all go on..."
"What?" The people beside him were stunned.
He gazed at the streets of the Celestial Capital, a bitter smile appearing on his face. "I cannot leave this city."
The city gate was right behind him, but he knew he couldn't walk through it. Thirty years ago, he had already become unable to leave. That battle had thoroughly trapped his heart in this city, and for thirty years, he had found no release.
Through the long years, the pain and suppressed emotions in his heart had long since worn him down to the point of exhaustion. It was time to let go.
Before his eyes, a monstrous inferno turned the sky red. Amidst the raging flames, distorted ghosts wailed piteously, reaching their hands out to him...
It was half-real, half-illusion.
In a daze, the scene shifted back to the day he first saw Tianshu beneath the city walls. Thousands of soldiers and horses were at the gates. Under the setting sun, that man stood alone atop the city wall.
*"They say the chessboard is like a battlefield. I hear you are skilled at chess; why don't you and I have a match today? Defending a city is boring. I shall have the north and south gates opened; you may lead your troops into the city to break my formation as you please."*
*"If I lose, the final capital of Wei shall fall to Xize ahead of schedule. If you lose, then stay and play a game of chess with me. Xin Muyi."*
One man against a thousand armies, talking and laughing with incredible composure.
Victory had been right before their eyes; no one in Xize thought the word "defeat" would fall upon them at the final step. Xin Muyi had felt the same. He had answered readily, "Fine."
He had asked with a smile, "Who are you?"
"Tianshu," the man had replied, also smiling. "You will remember me forever."
Back then, he had only smiled without speaking. Now, looking back...
He laughed. There was self-mockery in the laugh, but even more so, there was liberation. The people around him felt a terrible premonition.
That premonition was confirmed when he said, "Tell His Majesty that *he* has returned. There is no need to avenge me. Preserve the national strength and wait for another year."
With that, he suddenly drew the sword from the person beside him.
"My Lord!!!"
Amidst an unknown scream, the blade flashed, and blood splattered.
Xin Muyi... had slit his own throat!
In the few breaths it took for this to happen, Wei Ze reacted instantly. "Men! Summon the imperial physicians, quickly!"
Though by the looks of it, Xin Muyi was beyond saving, the proper diplomatic attitude still had to be shown.
"My Lord, My Lord! Why did you do this? Why couldn't you see a way out..."
Several Xize envoys surrounded Xin Muyi, their expressions filled with grief and sorrow. Xin Muyi’s status in Xize was no less than Tianshu’s status among the people of Wei. Though he had lost back then, his genuine strategic brilliance and scholarship were undeniable; few in Xize could match him.
Xin Muyi’s aged face no longer held its youth. With a final effort, he traced a pattern into someone’s palm and let his hand fall.
"My Lord!!!"
In an instant, the air was filled with the sound of weeping.
***
