Although Murong Yan was the Second Prince of the Yan Kingdom, he did not enjoy the King’s favor. Zuo Canglang had discerned as much during the previous palace banquet, though the underlying reasons remained a mystery to most. Years ago, Murong Yan’s mother had been Consort Rong, the most favored woman in the harem. At that time, there was no Queen, and as the leader of the imperial concubines, she was truly above all but one.
She was a woman of not only intellect but also great ambition. Consequently, her discipline of Murong Yan from a young age had been nothing short of rigorous. While still a child, Murong Yan was already proficient in the four arts—zither, Go, calligraphy, and painting—and King Murong Yuan doted on him immensely. For a time, nearly everyone believed he would be the future heir to the throne.
Murong Yan had grown up alongside the daughter of the Right Premier, Jiang Sanyi, and their relationship was exceptionally close. Seeing the two children as childhood sweethearts, Jiang Sanyi naturally followed the current, requesting an edict from the Empress Dowager to betroth them.
However, the moon waxes and wanes. Just as everyone was waiting for Consort Rong to be named Queen and Murong Yan to be invested as Crown Prince, the Shanrong tribes rose in rebellion against Yan, seizing several cities in quick succession. Murong Yuan dispatched three generals in turn, but all three suffered defeat. Eventually, no one in the court dared to volunteer for battle.
At that time, Consort Li, who held only the lower rank of Lady of Bright Deportment, recommended her elder brother to serve as the commander-in-chief. After the Li family marched against the Shanrong, reports of victory arrived frequently. Murong Yuan was overjoyed, and the Li clan members within the court began to win over officials, lobbying Murong Yuan to name Consort Li as his Queen.
Consort Li’s eldest son, Murong Ruo, was already an adult. If she were made Queen, it would effectively designate the First Prince as the Crown Prince.
Consort Rong had long enjoyed the King’s exclusive favor, and her treatment of the lower-ranking concubines had been far from kind. Suddenly, she found herself losing her footing. Meanwhile, the Li family’s campaign against the Shanrong stalled, and the cost of their supplies became an unbearable burden for the struggling Yan Kingdom.
Driven by necessity, Murong Yuan invested Lady Li as Queen. On the day the edict was proclaimed, Consort Rong caused a great scene at Chengguang Hall. In a fit of rage, Murong Yuan bestowed poisoned wine upon her, ordering her to take her own life. This was intended as a harsh warning born of fury; he knew her temperament well and believed that without such drastic measures, she would never yield or admit her fault, leading to endless future complications.
Who could have known that the moment the decree appeared, everyone in the palace assumed Consort Rong’s downfall was absolute? Queen Li dispatched her confidants the moment the order was issued to force the poisoned wine down Consort Rong’s throat.
By the time Murong Yuan finished the formalities of the investiture and went to Consort Rong’s Zhangwen Hall, her face was already livid, her appearance like that of a vengeful wraith. Her body had long since grown cold. Yet, even in death, her stiffened fingers were hooked like claws, death-gripping Murong Yan’s hand.
Murong Yuan locked eyes with his five-year-old son. No one knew what he saw in the child’s eyes, but from that day forward, he never looked at Murong Yan again, nor did he ever speak another word to him.
The prince who had once been the most likely candidate for the throne fell into the mire overnight. Before he even reached adulthood, he was moved out of the palace. To this day, he held no noble title and occupied no official position in the court.
This was a sore spot for the King, a "reverse scale" that no one dared to touch. As time passed, the courtiers eventually stopped mentioning this prince altogether. The glory of the past vanished like smoke, leaving behind only a secret of the inner palace that later generations no longer lamented.
Upon leaving the villa, Murong Yan’s expression was calm as he spoke of these past events. Zuo Canglang followed behind him; the long street was silent and deserted. Murong Yan smiled and said, "I was only five then, yet I remember every single pearl and jewel she wore in her hair."
Zuo Canglang remained silent. Murong Yan suddenly stopped in his tracks, and she, following with her head down, bumped straight into his back. His spine felt like a wall of iron. Zuo Canglang clutched her nose, tears nearly pricking her eyes. Murong Yan turned to look at her. In the hazy, uncertain night, his long robes billowed, and a faint, dark fragrance drifted around him, lingering and elusive.
Zuo Canglang felt as if she were looking at a god or a demon and couldn't help but take a few steps back. After a long pause, she searched for a topic and asked, "Has Your Highness remained unmarried until now because Premier Jiang intends to break the engagement?"
"Naturally," Murong Yan replied. "Given the Queen’s character, once my brother ascends the throne, what path to life would be left for me? Who would be willing to marry their daughter to a prince whose very existence is so precarious?"
Zuo Canglang didn't know what to say. Murong Yan said softly, "You needn't say anything. Just walk this stretch of road with me."
A five-year-old child, losing his mother and his father’s love. How much humiliation must he have endured, and what perils must he have faced within the icy depths of the inner palace? He did not say. Zuo Canglang nodded, and the two of them walked one after the other down the empty midnight street. The wind and dew dampened their clothes as a waning moon followed them.
That night, in the Yan Imperial Palace, Murong Yuan was reviewing petitions. Overcome by drowsiness, he leaned against the dragon desk and closed his eyes for a brief rest. Within moments, he entered a dream. In the dream, he returned to the Zhangwen Hall of years ago. The hall was extravagant, its colors intense and vibrant.
That woman, dressed in magnificent finery, sat upon a jewel-encrusted chaise longue, her right hand tightly gripping her son’s wrist. He approached slowly, his face grim as he called her childhood name: "Yeping."
There was no response. He brushed aside a lock of her hair and saw the woman’s head hanging low, her face already turned a bruised purple, dark blood soaking a large portion of her chest. With her livid face and blackened nails, she looked like a spiteful, ancient ghost that would be startled awake by the slightest sound.
The child looked up. Beside his dead mother, he allowed her to continue crushing his wrist. He was quiet, silent—like a demon possessed by a vengeful spirit. In the next moment, it seemed he would tear through his human skin to reveal a blood-drenched true form.
"Yeping—!" He suddenly cried out the name again, but when he opened his eyes, he saw only the hall filled with glowing candlelight, flickering into shadows.
As the water clock dripped, Murong Yan felt a faint ache in his wrist. It was as if he had returned to that moment: the woman gripping his hand with a death-grip, her beautiful eyes slowly filling with broken vessels until they turned blood-red. Her lips changed color, and black blood stained her teeth, looking nauseating and foul. She pulled him close to her face, her nose almost touching his. "This is the fate of the weak. Look closely—this is the fate of the weak!"
Black blood splattered onto his face as she sat back on the chaise.
"I know you hate me. I haven't been good to you all these years, have I?" Her blood dripped steadily, staining her fine consort's robes. "When I was pregnant with you, I thought it would be better if I gave birth to a princess. But when you were born, I felt that in all this world, no princess or prince could compare to you. Hate me if you must. I am not afraid to die, but after I am gone, I truly do not know what will become of you."
She turned her head back and smiled at him, her pupils overflowing with blood, her gaze tender. "Yan'er, I truly wanted... to see you with a virtuous wife and filial children, a whole family of your own..."
With those words, her head drooped slightly, but she never let go of his hand. They were a breed of the most ruthless hunters, yet also the most beautiful and gentle prey, destined to spend their lives fleeing and chasing.
The next day, Zuo Canglang went to relieve Murong Yan’s guards. Besides her, there were two other experts by Murong Yan’s side: one named Zhou Xin and the other named Feng Ping. It was said they were confidants specially trained for him by Consort Rong years ago.
When Zuo Canglang arrived outside Murong Yan’s door, Feng Ping departed immediately. Strictly speaking, Feng Ping shared a sort of master-disciple relationship with Zuo Canglang and the others. Previously, he had managed all the affairs of the orphan camp, including the "masters" within.
However, those "masters" had clearly not left a good impression on them, so Zuo Canglang never treated him with the etiquette due to a teacher. To this day, the two of them had barely exchanged two words.
She stood outside the door for a while before Murong Yan rose, attended by servants. Waiting outside, Zuo Canglang found herself quite idle.
Horses were already prepared outside. After Murong Yan finished breakfast, he led Zuo Canglang out. The weather was unexpectedly pleasant today, with the sun peeking out early. A ray of morning light hit the glazed tiles, making the entire street shimmer.
Zuo Canglang did not ask where they were going. Wang Yunzhao had already taught her many rules, and she was beginning to learn how to be a proper personal guard.
Just as they reached the main street, a carriage passed ahead. The carriage had bells hanging from its four corners and was draped in colorful silk; one look told that the owner was surely the lady or miss of a wealthy household. Zuo Canglang paid it no mind, but Murong Yan reined in his horse. As the servants cleared the way, the carriage moved quickly down the long street and was soon in front of them.
The owner inside seemed to have a premonition and lifted the window curtain. Zuo Canglang caught an unexpected glimpse of that face—cheeks like translucent lychees and skin as smooth as fine cream. In that instant, she finally understood the meaning of "a beauty that could topple kingdoms."
The colorful carriage brushed past the horse. The beauty’s gaze was as soft as spring water as she looked fixedly at Murong Yan. It was a look filled with love and grievance, a silent plea. As the carriage moved further away, she glanced back once; without a word, she had expressed the depths of her devotion. Once the beauty was gone, Murong Yan continued forward. Zuo Canglang followed him; he said nothing, so she did not ask.
But it wasn't hard to guess who would make him stop and stare like that.
Murong Yan’s brief moment of tenderness soon vanished without a trace. He took Zuo Canglang to the villa where Leng Feiyan and Yang Lianting were staying and said, "Feiyan, come with me. We are going somewhere."
Leng Feiyan knew she had a mission and felt a spark of excitement. Yang Lianting called out, "My Lord!" Murong Yan smiled and said, "Study your medical texts well. There will be a time when you are very busy."
Yang Lianting had no choice but to stay behind. Leng Feiyan accompanied them, winding through various streets until they reached a secluded manor. Murong Yan signaled for Leng Feiyan to open the door, and she did so cautiously. The manor looked ordinary from the outside, but the interior held a different world entirely.
Behind the house was not a garden, but a martial arts training ground, neat rows of dormitories, and an armory. Leng Feiyan was stunned. Murong Yan took her hand and made a light scratch on a vermilion pillar. "From now on, this place is yours."
Leng Feiyan looked around, her shock turning to joy. "Truly?"
Murong Yan did not repeat himself. Leng Feiyan spun around once in the main hall, her sleeves fluttering gracefully. "Wonderful! I love it here!"
Murong Yan’s smile was gentle. "We need to plant eyes and ears in critical locations; we need a large number of reliable and useful hands. However, I do not wish for them to know who is behind you. I want you to be the supreme leader in their eyes. Do you understand?"
Leng Feiyan’s expression turned solemn. "This subordinate understands."
Murong Yan nodded with satisfaction. "Starting this month, you will have an account at the Tongbao Bank. A sum of money will be deposited on time every month, enough for you to maintain this place. I permit you to use any means necessary to establish our contact points and cultivate our people."
Leng Feiyan looked at the blank scrolls hanging on the pillars and said, "Yes! May I ask my Lord to bestow a name upon this place?"
Murong Yan picked up a brush from the desk and handed it to her. "Think of one yourself. This is your place now."
Leng Feiyan pursed her lips, dipped the brush in ink, and slowly wrote three large characters on the bright red, gold-flecked scrolls: *Swallow’s Nest*.
*Content with my snail-shell hut, yet welcoming the swallow's nest.*
***
**Glossary**
Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation
--- | --- | ---
容婕妤 | Consort Rong | Murong Yan's late mother. "Jieyu" (Lady of Handsome Fairness) is a high-ranking concubine title.
姜散宜 | Jiang Sanyi | The Right Premier of Yan.
山戎 | Shanrong | A nomadic tribe/ethnic group that frequently attacked the Yan Kingdom.
经娥 | Jing'e | Lady of Bright Deportment; a lower-ranking concubine title.
李妃/李皇后 | Consort Li / Queen Li | Murong Ruo's mother and the current Queen.
慕容若 | Murong Ruo | The First Prince and current Crown Prince of Yan.
彰文殿 | Zhangwen Hall | The palace where Consort Rong lived.
承光殿 | Chengguang Hall | A major hall in the Yan Imperial Palace.
周信 | Zhou Xin | One of Murong Yan's personal guards/confidants.
封平 | Feng Ping | One of Murong Yan's personal guards/confidants; formerly managed the orphan camp.
通宝钱庄 | Tongbao Bank | A financial institution/money shop.
燕子巢 | Swallow's Nest | The name of the secret organization/base established by Leng Feiyan.
