Zhan's whole body trembled because of the way King Yibo had spoken....that final, low whisper, warm breath ghosting over his skin. His eyes, wide and dazed, fluttered shut for a moment, overwhelmed. Then he pressed his lips together, face contorting as if he were about to break down into sobs.
King Yibo's gaze, fixed on Zhan, darkened with a mix of desire and frustration. Drawn irresistibly to Zhan's defiant beauty, he leaned in closer, their faces so near it seemed he meant to crush Zhan in an embrace, their lips almost touching.
At this moment, Zhan had no choice but to close his eyes against the overwhelming intensity. He tried to steady his shaking body by clutching the bedsheet, but his hand instead found King Yibo's soft palm. Quickly, Zhan tried to pull away, but Yibo twisted his own hand, threading their fingers together and squeezing with a force that made Zhan's body go rigid against his.
Lost in a whirl of confusion and not knowing what to do, Zhan finally spoke, his voice strained.
"B–Before you pass a death sentence on me… tell me about Mulan. Tell me about my parents, who were said you have killed?"
Instead of answering Yibo's questions, Zhan's own words poured out in a rushed, heartfelt torrent, made more urgent by their unbearable closeness.
The intoxicating scent of Yibo was a kind of witchcraft all its own...it clouded his reasoning, making the fine hairs on his body stand on end with a visceral, physical reaction.
King Yibo's lips moved slightly as if to speak, but instead, he just felt the devastating warmth of Zhan's own lips pressed against his. With immense force, Zhan shut his eyes, bracing himself as a powerful shudder ran through his frame. He tried to pull back, but it was useless. All he did was release a low, guttural sound that seemed to shake the very foundations of the room. This level of self-control was beyond him; he couldn't manage it.
Zhan tried to pull his hand back a second time, his lips still trembling but King Yibo hold was firm. Zhan just surrender and stay still eyes close.
Frankly, the situation almost made King Yibo laugh, but he swallowed it back, pulling his body away slightly as he realized Zhan might just bite him. With a heavy sigh, Zhan slumped back, sitting down hard, wanting desperately to control the tremors wracking his body.
King Yibo tried to suppress the smile threatening to break through in his heart, and his face showed no trace of it. Instead, he looked even more stern than before. He leaned back, returning to the chair he had risen from, and sat back down, crossing his arms over his chest and resting one ankle over his knee, fixing his gaze solely on Zhan.
A tense silence lasted nearly three full minutes before he finally broke it, clearing his throat.
"Who are they?"
Zhan glanced up slightly, opening his eyes. Meeting King Yibo's face directly made him feel his own doubt and courage waver, and he struggled to steady his breathing. Yibo sat perfectly still, as unmoving as a mountain since he had entered. A look Zhan couldn't interpret was thrown his way, making him lower his eyes. Zhan also took a slow breath, finally gathering his resolve and looking at him cautiously.
"For me to name them personally is not the solution, My Lord. What matters is your safety...be cautious with your life and keep your eyes on those around you. If I fail to kill you today, they might succeed tomorrow. And though I haven't done yet, I would try my luck a second time."
Zhan finished speaking with a defiant tilt of his head, his face pale but his lips firm, his eyes glittering with unshed tears aimed right at Yibo. Then he averted his gaze, seeing how the King was staring him down.
Yibo couldn't move. He just watched Zhan, struggling to suppress the amusement rising within him, from the tips of his toes to the very core of his being. This young man… he thought to himself. In truth, all emotion seemed to drain from his face. He collected himself, letting out a slow breath and clearing his throat again in a way that made Zhan look up instinctively...though Zhan couldn't bear his gaze and quickly looked down again.
Yibo, wrestling with his own desires, looked at Zhan from under his brow....a gaze filled with intensity, patience, and a strange, simmering look. He finally walked to the door to leave, pausing but not turning back.
"I'll give you a second chance. If you succeed in killing me within one year from now, the throne of the Beiping Empire will be yours by legitimate kingship. If you fail… your sentence will be to bear five children for me, under my authority....no affection involved."
"I won't allow anyone to profit from me just because they hold power over the throne....even if they are stronger than I am. How can you take advantage of me twice in one year? I'm not some fragile bird kept in a cage for display, and for the matter of fact....males don't give births" Zhan said firmly, his tone calm but cutting.
A faint smirk almost escaped King Yibo's lips, but he held it back. This one's dangerous, he thought silently.
"Oh! Do not worry about that, I know you know you can give birth, and even if you didn't... Be ready to be the first male person to give birth to a human baby, I will make sure of that...."
King Yibo shifted his posture, his head pounding. Other than with his parents and Dowager Ruyan, he had never spoken this much with anyone in his life. He hated long conversations... even in the palace, he preferred the quiet of silence to the noise of words.
"I still don't agree," Zhan continued, his voice steady. "As for love....it's never been something I value enough to crave from anyone outside my own blood."
King Yibo paused at the doorway, caught off guard by Zhan's words. A flicker of admiration crossed his expression, though he didn't turn back. He simply walked away, that quiet smile lingering in his face.
Through the secret passage he'd come, Yibo returned to his own chamber....the very path he'd used to disguise his exit earlier. But he froze mid-step when he saw Dowager Ruyan waiting for him. He hadn't expected her at this hour, nor in his private chambers...not when he couldn't even recall the last time she'd visited. Ignoring the suspicious gleam in her eyes, he approached and sit beside her.
He took her hand gently, kissed it, and said, "If a trusted elder wishes to see her bloodline, shouldn't she only need to give the command?"
For the first time that night, Dowager Ruyan smiled faintly. Despite her high rank, she lowered her gaze in a gesture of respect. "And if a grandmother honors her grandson, who also happens to be her sovereign....is that a crime?"
Yibo chuckled softly and shook his head...his usual wordless reply. Seeing that, she relaxed and continued, "I came quietly because I couldn't sleep. My thoughts have been restless since your husband's statement earlier."
His eyes flickered, but he said nothing at first. Then he sighed deeply. "Grandma, what exactly about it kept you awake? Did anyone else mention it afterward? Or are you troubled simply because he said it.... something no one has dared speak before? You know his words come from a desire to defend himself, nothing more. And we already knew who they are.... even if not all of them...."
"No, Yibo," Dowager Ruyan interrupted gently but firmly. "I've long sensed that your husband hides deeper matters within him. He has the nature of a blade.... sharp, unpredictable…"
(More dangerous than you think, Grandmother, Yibo thought privately.) Outwardly, he only pressed a hand to his temple...his headache worsening. "Then what would you have me do?" he asked quietly.
"We shouldn't force or corner him," she replied. "He asked that we conduct our own investigation....and we should. There's wisdom in his words, a reason he offered that path."
"As you wish, Grandmother," Yibo agreed softly. "But without an inquiry, how can judgment be fair? A case was brought before me. It's my duty to find the guilty...or absolve the innocent no matter who they are."
Dowager Ruyan smiled knowingly, tightening her hold on his hand. "That's what makes you a just ruler. But I feel something will happen within this three days. Those who were involved...they're restless now, desperate to act before the time runs out. Even we may not be safe from their schemes."
Yibo's eyes widened slightly at her words, but he said nothing. She leaned forward, kissed his hand, and closed her eyes...a silent farewell. He bowed his head, lips curving faintly though his thoughts were elsewhere.
When she finally left, Yibo leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop thinking about Zhan. The young man's defiance, his calm voice, and his unflinching stare burned through his mind. Even when afraid, Zhan faced him without retreat....something no one else in Beiping dared. Not even Dowager Taihou or Dowager Ruyan, despite being his elders, ever looked him directly in the eyes when speaking.
But Zhan did.
Even his voice held no tremor of fear. There was reverence, yes...but also conviction. Yibo couldn't hide how much that stirred him, even when he knew he shouldn't feel it.
"Rebellious," he whispered, a sly smile curling across his handsome face as he rose to his feet, that dangerous glint returning to his eyes.
~***~
"My mind is completely shut, sister. What kind of secret does this Zhan hold that he thinks will save him...does he really know who's been killing Yibo's wives? Or is he telling the truth? If he's honest, how could we have failed to find out for years? Could his arrival in the palace have been part of a larger plan from the start?"
Dowager Taihou said nothing at first; Jasrah pressed on. "This whole thing with Momma terrifies me. Is there something she's hiding that we should know?"
For the first time, Dowager Taihou looked directly at Jasrah, then rose with a sudden dignity. "What exactly are you suggesting?"
"Many things," Jasrah replied. "Even her current behavior seems false. I feel there's much more under the surface than you imagine. Why does she support this boy so strongly? Why protect him? After her own grandson nearly killed, why did she rush Zhan to Yibo's chambers? He was taken there without explanation and nothing happened to him, he come back well and alive, and later another female consort died.... what does that mean? That's just a sample of my suspicions."
Dowager Taihou only nodded slowly; the same uneasy thought had been gnawing at her for some time. She had once admired Dowager Ruyan's good qualities, but lately her heart had been unsettled.
- - - -
Barbushi....still laughing after listening to Prince Deng and Prince Langya....finally quieted, his face folding into an expression as if he'd been surprised by his own words. "You're in a very dangerous place. If his mouth ever opens and he tells the truth, it's over for you. There's only one choice: if you're lucky, you survive. If not…blame yourselves."
No one answered; their confidence had been shaken by Barbushi's implication. If he wasn't bluffing, how had a seemingly minor youth managed to deceive them so thoroughly? Many had once relied on Barbushi's plotting...and now they were left doubting.
They left his presence with heavy hearts, each lost in plans and fears. No one among them would tolerate Zhan living freely if they could prevent it. Even Prince Deng and his allies were running out of patience...some wanted blood.
INNER ONE
Since the trial she'd been unable to sit still. She'd exhausted every option. After visiting spiritual Du Ze, she had gone to four master spirituals.... each turned her away, saying the task was beyond them. In desperation she had to go back to Cao.
She wept then, long and bitterly.... tears like the ones she couldn't remember having shed in years. Her hatred for Zhan burned fiercer than anything else now. In the two days since the trial, she had decided to have him killed, but every path she tried ended blocked.
That failure cut deeper than anything.
("Stop everything and go back to Cao," her friend urged over and over. "Don't let your suffering be wasted.") She sat there, trying to hold back more tears. "Is this really the plan I spent forty years waiting for...only for a slip of youth to undo it? What is this thing that ties itself to him?" The grief brought new sobs.
She had no choice but to seek Cao again. She rose like a woman driven, hunted the little satchel of incenses she called Cao's tools, and found the stick of resin-smoke on the burner. The room filled with dense fumes until she could barely breathe; the smoke stung, her vision blurred. Kneeling, she began the ritual of the old incantations, voice thin and urgent as she called on what she had always called Cao with.
But Cao did not appear. The smoke thickened; Inner One refused to give up, redoubling her ritual until her wounds throbbed.
She spent an hour in that single, desperate task...no Cao, no sign of her. Her heart grew heavier; she wrapped herself tighter, fighting the tears that rose. She forced herself not to break. By two in the morning the palace was almost silent: even those who hadn't slept were hunched in shadow, barely moving.
She made a call...quick taps...and the phone was answered at once. Without preamble she said, "Bring him. Let him wait for me in the garden." Then she cut the call.
She dressed in haste but disguise and slipped out. No one suspected a woman in plain clothes: she changed into a guard's uniform, taking on the shape and bearing of the palace security staff. She moved unnoticed to the grand garden on the southern side of the grounds. The light there was dim; only the soft cries of birds in the aviary cut the hush.
Her contact emerged quickly and bowed before her. She motioned for him to stand without replying. After scanning him from head to toe she handed over an envelope. "From tonight until dawn," she said, "I want to hear cries. I want to hear the male royal consort's death called out. If anything goes wrong, your own household will mourn you. Throw him into the main swimming pool in the eastern garden."
"Your orders will be carried out," he replied immediately, with the utmost deference. She did not linger. As she left she barely glanced back; he watched her go, then exhaled, still confused about who she truly was.
He opened the envelope. Inside were thick, new banknotes...still smelling of the mint. His face broke into a greedy smile; the money soothed whatever scruple he felt. He knew the job would be dangerous: the male royal consort was heavy guarded and effectively imprisoned, but when stars aligned, such orders had to be fulfilled.
FEW MINUTES LATER
He spent ten minutes watching the prison guard come and go, each man heavily armed. The area was bright as day under the floodlights; even a dropped pin would show. The palace clock....visible from every corner of Beiping....ticked toward the appointed hour.
It was exactly three in the morning...one hour remained until the operation. Slowly, the guards stirred and readied themselves for their assigned duties: the cleaning crews, the gate watch, the rest of the shift. He squared his posture, set his cap straight, and hoisted the large duffel over his shoulder.
Even dressed as he was, the men in the area treated him as one of their own. He kept his head down though his pulse hammered. He handed over his ID cards with a formal nod.
"These are orders from the higher quarters," he told them. "I'm delivering supplies to the royal consort for tomorrow if he's to be moved. And do cleared out his laundry."
They scrutinized his card and photo, but the low, bright light distorted the likeness. He added urgently, "It's not enough to check the card. Call the trusted King's attendant and confirm....security protocol."
His words carried weight; still, one officer hesitated, suspicious, he tell them to wait asking for a phone call. The man went to the King's quarters to confirm weather that person was telling the truth.
After ten minutes he did return. Without a word and head hide he signaled the men's to allow the man to entered the cell area. He breathed shallowly, barely hiding the inner wage of the task. The others trusted him; so they relaxed.
Zhan had fallen into a drugged sleep after his long vigil and mediation. He awoke startled, grasping for breath as the sedative from the handkerchief took hold. No matter how he struggled, his body surrendered. He felt himself lifted and placed in the duffel; the zipper closed. He smelled the coarse fabric and felt the rough weight of the bag as they hoisted him away.
Though Zhan was small and gaunt, the man's forcefulness left him unable to resist. Despite his fragile frame, the harsh handling made him go limp, and his limbs gave way. With a curt farewell the escort took the duffel...containing not only Zhan but also the clothes intended for the royal consort...out of the cell area and left on King Yibo's orders. (Like the man said.)
***
As custom dictated, every attendant assigned to early duty rose by four to begin their tasks....especially those responsible for the palace grounds and the great amenities: the gardens, the stables, the pools.
That morning was no different. The attendants were already up and moving, each racing to finish their chores before dawn. The eastern garden's swimming pool...set just behind the royal wing...was a large installation tended by four maintenance workers, one at each corner. They'd fitted nets to catch debris and treated the water so it gleamed a brilliant, eye-catching blue.
They worked in quiet concentration, calling back and forth now and then. Then someone on the western wall shouted and the sound echoed through the service quarters, drawing every attendant nearby.
His brothers rushed over, asking what was wrong. He pointed toward the pool. Their faces drained; memories of the earlier tragedy...Prince Nie's death....came rushing back. They broke into a clumsy scramble.
"It's a man in there, for sure!" one called out. The cry sent everyone into motion. No one moved immediately to pull anyone out; a ripple across the water suggested that whoever lay beneath was moving weakly. One worker braved the edge, ready to jump in, but a colleague grabbed him, shaking his head.
"This is no job for guesswork. Call security before anyone jumps in. We can't risk another mistake...we all remember what happened when we tried that before," he warned. Everyone agreed; some of the younger men had never been through those events and looked pale at the recollection.
Within minutes the security team arrived, and men from the palace who had been preparing for the morning routine gathered, too. Because the identity of the person in the pool was unknown, the chief of security forbade anyone from entering the water until the detection equipment they'd installed could pull the body. (After Prince Nie's death the court had invested in sensors and rescue gear.)
The pool's scale and design.... divided areas, decorative ledges....made the search slow. By the time they were ready it was nearly the end of the morning shift.
Only a few people, including King Yibo, had been into the small temple to perform the morning rites that day, and the delay raised questions: was something more serious happening? The attendants at the temple assumed it was just a disturbance, but King Yibo was unconvinced. He stood and left with Prince Aoying...now one of his trusted aides. King Yibo headed for his private chamber to change for his morning exercises.
At that moment the landline rang. He froze: calls on that line were rarely routine. He glanced at Prince Aoying, who straightened at the gesture, and he picked up.
A security officer's voice reported breathlessly that an accident had occurred in the eastern garden pool: a man had been found and, from the initial assessment, he might be one of the attendants rather than a prisoner...but urgent help was required and the rescue team on site did not have authorization to move or touch him.
King Yibo felt his chest tighten. He hesitated....then steadied himself and moved. He intended to go personally; he rose with a controlled calm that belied the flutter in his chest. He didn't give the usual order for others to act first. Instead he took the concealed passage that would bring him straight to the eastern garden.
Prince Aoying was visibly stunned, but he had no authority to question King Yibo and simply followed behind.
The attendants around them dropped to their knees, trembling with shock to see their sovereign there in person. The security officers straightened to attention.
King Yibo stood composed and imposing, the image of power even in a crisis. His chest rose with a deep breath that suggested strain, yet his expression gave nothing away. The men who had been with Zhan said quietly that the man in the pool was the royal consort; the security chief had relayed the information cautiously rather than risk delivering it directly to the king.
The servants and officers closest to Zhan were now on edge, voices wavering as one of royal trusted attendants....responsible for the comings and goings of the royal household....bowed and spoke:
"May the leader find peace. We await your orders on how to handle the royal consort; his life is at risk."
King Yibo lowered his eyes on Zhan for a long moment, then, fighting down the tide of emotion that rose within him, put a foot forward and, with a stiffened posture, signaled his men. They moved quickly, astonished at his resolve, and carried Zhan's stretcher toward him.
When one of the attendants brought over a small outer robe, Prince Aoying handed it to King Yibo. Slowly, King Yibo sat down, eyes still fixed on Zhan, the first light of dawn catching the scene.
Zhan lay wrapped, face pale and motionless. King Yibo drew a breath, then, with the practiced composure of someone who knew rescue technique, bridged two fingers to Zhan's nostrils—checking for breath. There was none. He then placed two fingers on Zhan's neck to check the pulse. Again, nothing.
With calm, King Yibo removed Zhan's hand from the robe and cradled it in his own. For a few seconds his face showed nothing... pure concentration...then he carefully drew Zhan's head close and applied mouth-to-mouth resuscitation with a professional steadiness.
Zhan gasped and coughed; water streamed from his lips onto King Yibo's face. King Yibo's eyes closed briefly as the shock of the moment hit him, then he steadied himself and allowed one of the attendants....Chengzai....to hand Prince Aoying a small towel, which he took and offered to King Yibo. Without breaking his focus, King Yibo used it to clear his face.
"Duvet," he said softly, noting that Zhan's body had started to convulse slightly. Hands moved swiftly; someone brought a duvet and he covered Zhan. King Yibo then stood and, still alert, addressed Prince Aoying in a low voice: "Take him to my chambers."
Only then did he take in the full crowd gathered in the garden...the high-ranking ladies of the court, Dowager Taihou and Dowager Ruyan close together, with Daneen and Dowager Cixi between them. He met their eyes briefly, then continued with measured dignity. Everyone around him bowed as he passed; his presence demanded respect.
They carried Zhan to King Yibo's private chamber with the court physician and prepared for urgent treatment. A ripple of astonishment and whispered commentary passed through the assembled courtiers: everyone remembered that Zhan had been imprisoned, that a second trial was imminent, and that his own words from that trial had already unsettled many. Now, seeing what had happened, the court's certainty fractured...those who had dismissed Zhan's earlier claims began to wonder whether there might be truth in them. If someone had tried to kill him once, what did that imply? If not an attempt, then what else could explain it? That question hung in the air.
Zhanxianyibo💚❤️💛