"So what if I am?"
Yan Zheng arched an eyebrow and handed him the sword hilt-first. "Back then, you demanded my heart's blood. Now you're free to take it yourself. But as for not seeing her—that, I refuse to do."
It was the first time Young Master Lang had witnessed someone break a promise with such brazen confidence.
He scoffed and accepted the sword.
"Young Master!"
Meng Yang frantically stepped in front of him.
Yan Zheng's voice turned icy. "Step aside."
"No, Young Master, you can't—"
"Step aside!"
The sharp command made Meng Yang instinctively retreat—just in time to see a flash of steel as the sword gifted by the Crown Prince lunged straight for Yan Zheng's heart.
Meng Yang's legs nearly gave out, but Yan Zheng didn’t flinch, his cold gaze fixed on Young Master Lang.
The latter smirked. "Bold!"
Clang!
The blade veered abruptly and plunged into the table before Yan Zheng, sinking three inches deep.
Meng Yang exhaled in relief as Young Master Lang remarked, "Yan the Third, you know full well that if I want to infiltrate the military, I can’t do it without you, the heir of the Yan family. Did you hand me this sword because you were certain I wouldn’t dare kill you?"
Yan Zheng replied coolly, "You're a smart man. You wouldn’t let personal feelings cloud your judgment."
"That’s flattering. But—" Young Master Lang’s eyes darkened as he watched Yan Zheng pull out a white handkerchief and wipe the hilt where he’d touched it. "What’s the meaning of this?"
"I have standards. You’re filthy."
Young Master Lang’s expression turned murderous. Before he could react, Meng Yang hastily intervened, "A misunderstanding, all a misunderstanding! Master Lang, think about it—you need our Young Master to secure military access, and he needs the intelligence you provide. This is a mutually beneficial arrangement! Why let a momentary clash ruin things?"
Young Master Lang sneered. "You dare say that? I handed you classified intel about Cao Yang and Qingping, and you, Yan the Third, used it to curry favor?"
The information had been a closely guarded secret of the imperial court, obtained only after great effort. He’d expected Yan Zheng to act discreetly, helping Qingping succeed so Cao Yang could be removed from the Ministry of Revenue and the Court of Judicial Review—effectively crippling the emperor.
Instead, the moment Yan Zheng learned Cao Yang was to marry that little blind girl’s aunt, he’d handed the opportunity over on a silver platter!
Yan Zheng finished cleaning the dagger before replying lazily, "I found your methods… lacking in honor."
Young Master Lang nearly laughed. "You’re lecturing me on honor? Yan the Third, have you forgotten what kind of man you are?"
The same man who’d tricked his own sister into the beast pits and watched as her husband was torn apart—he had the audacity to preach about honor?
Meng Yang forced a conciliatory smile. "Master Lang, please, there is merit to our Young Master’s actions. With the Cao and Chu families allied, the Caos might show leniency for Lady Chu’s sake in future conflicts. Besides, even if Qingping succeeds, given how highly the emperor values Cao Yang, would he really let him become a mere consort?"
Young Master Lang’s expression softened slightly.
Just as he was about to warn Yan Zheng against further emotional decisions, the latter spoke first: "Our cooperation is transactional. But one condition stands—she stays out of it."
Young Master Lang’s peach-blossom eyes gleamed. "Define ‘out of it.’"
"Her, her family, everything she cares about—all off-limits." Yan Zheng’s usually indifferent gaze sharpened like a blade. "Revenge, the throne—those are our battles. Anyone who drags her into the storm will die."
The last four words rang with finality.
Young Master Lang studied him for a long moment before smiling faintly. "In the Hall of Worship, behind Guardian Temple’s mountain… Yan Zheng, have you ever considered that you are the one who keeps pulling her into the storm?"
Yan Zheng’s eyes turned glacial.
"I forbid you from seeing her to spare that little blind girl from being destroyed by you. Yan the Third, we’re both walking the edge of a cliff—one misstep, and it’s oblivion. But she has a long road ahead. If you truly care, stay away. A sword cuts both ways, and sooner or later, you will hurt her."
Yan Zheng narrowed his eyes dangerously. "Yun Lang… you’re not scheming for her too, are you?"
Young Master Lang—born Yun Lang, scion of the fallen imperial family—went rigid. "You investigated me?"
"Only enough to learn the essentials." Yan Zheng traced the dagger’s edge. "Rebel, reclaim your throne—do as you please. But her? Don’t even think about it."
Young Master Lang’s face was stone.
The tension thickened until, just as Meng Yang braced for violence, Young Master Lang spat, "Don’t lump me in with you," and stormed out.
---
Meanwhile, at the Duke of Chu’s Mansion…
After feeding Fubao, Chu Ruoyan hurried to her Aunt Chu Jing and relayed the news about Qingping.
Chu Jing fell silent. Xue Ling suggested, "Mother, perhaps we could postpone the wedding until Qingping leaves the capital—"
"Impossible."
The ceremony was set for ten days hence. Cao Yang’s grandmother, eager to welcome her, had strong-armed the imperial astrologers into declaring the eighth of next month auspicious.
Rescheduling was unthinkable, and waiting for Qingping’s departure? Who knew how long that would take?
"Ruoyan, do you think we could avoid sending her an invitation and use only trusted staff to prevent trouble?"
Chu Ruoyan shook her head after a pause. "Aunt, even without an invite, Qingping is imperial nobility. If she insists on coming, we can’t bar the gates. As for trusted staff—weddings are chaotic. One or two infiltrators could slip in easily."
Chu Jing frowned. If things went awry, the humiliation would extend beyond her to the entire Cao family.
As they debated, Chu Ruolan—sent by Lady Jiang the Younger to inventory the dowry at dawn—yawned and mumbled, "If you can’t stop her, just let her come. Find someone who can keep her in line…"
Xue Ling suddenly hugged her. "Cousin, you’re a genius!"
Qingping might be formidable, but every tyrant has a master. Surely someone in the imperial family could rein her in!
Even if not, inviting senior relatives would force her to behave.
Chu Ruoyan hesitated. She’d considered this, but given the Yan family’s feud with her, neither the Empress Dowager nor Prince Yu would lift a finger. Otherwise, with Cao Yang’s rank, securing an imperial officiant would’ve been effortless.
Just then, a hearty voice called from outside: "No need to fret! I’ve already handled that wretched Qingping. Before her marriage, she feared nothing except my second daughter-in-law, An Sheng. On the big day, my son and the Princess will attend. Jing’er, you’ll have the grandest wedding—leave the rest to me."
