"Fine, keep arguing then."
Shen Qingping took the exam paper and placed it on the table in front of him. The others paused only briefly before resuming their heated dispute.
That exam paper had been an accident—an unexpectedly good one.
The wait for the results passed neither quickly nor slowly. Song Yu, in no particular hurry, devoted himself more diligently to honing his chess skills.
"Your Highness has suddenly taken a liking to chess," Shen Qingping remarked with a light chuckle. Had anyone else spoken to Song Yu in such a manner, they would have been kicked ten miles away.
"One must learn to control the board," Song Yu replied, holding a piece carved from warm jade. He abruptly lifted his gaze to Shen Qingping. "If nothing goes wrong, Song Yanchao will soon be dead."
Shen Qingping's breath hitched.
"What manner of death has Your Highness chosen for Song Yanchao?"
"You'll know soon enough."
The black piece landed on the board, its cold gleam mirroring the icy depths of Song Yu's eyes.
......
February 22nd, late at night.
Song Yanming was dead drunk. His attendant spoke softly, "Your Highness is drunk again."
"What else can I do besides drink?" Song Yanming slurred with a foolish grin. "Elder Brother was thrown into Dayue, left to live or die. Where does that leave me?"
"This servant speaks out of turn, but the Ping Prince's Mansion had stabilized until last year, when the Second Imperial Grandson returned from Laijin Prefecture infected with plague. It was as if he drained the mansion's fortune..."
"Song Yanchao is nothing but a useless curse."
Overcome with agitation, Song Yanming needed only a few provoking words before he stormed out of the room, heading straight for Song Yanchao's quarters.
No one could have predicted what happened next.
"Song Yanming, so you still remember your second brother?"
Song Yanchao was awake when Song Yanming arrived, his gaze filled with disappointment.
While Song Xiyan tormented him, his own brother had never once lifted a hand to help.
"I wish I never had a second brother like you," Song Yanming spat, enunciating each word.
"Song Yanming, you're nothing but a coward. Without Song Yanzheng, you can't hold up the Ping Prince's Mansion. You don’t even dare to fight for its future."
"Pfft—"
A sharp, wet sound pierced the air. Song Yanchao's eyes widened in disbelief.
A searing pain erupted from his abdomen.
Song Yanming had plunged a dagger into him.
"You—"
"You’ve always looked down on me, haven’t you?" Song Yanming's eyes burned red like a beast's. "When I was seven, you stole the jade pendant Father gave me. At nine, you tricked me into mischief and got me punished..."
As Song Yanming listed his "crimes," blood trickled from Song Yanchao's lips.
So this was how his brother saw him.
"Childhood mischief... and you thought I meant you harm?" Song Yanchao struggled weakly. "Killing me... you’ve ruined yourself too."
But Song Yanming was beyond reason. He yanked the dagger free and stabbed again.
Eight times in total.
By the time Lady Chang arrived at the sound of screams, Song Yanchao was already drenched in blood.
"Song Yanming, have you lost your mind?!"
......
The Ping Prince's Mansion lit up in an instant. The physician examined Song Yanchao, then shook his head helplessly at Lady Chang.
Meanwhile, guards had already bound Song Yanming and forced him to the ground.
"Ah-Huan..."
A faint whisper escaped Song Yanchao's lips. Lady Chang looked down at him in her arms.
"Retribution... all retribution." His mind was slipping, blurring past and present. "Why... why couldn’t Ah-Huan be the one to kill me...?"
In his fading vision, he saw Song Shihuan holding out a pair of hand-knitted knee pads, telling him to wear them against the cold.
Back then, Father was still the Crown Prince, and Mother was his beloved wife.
The siblings had no grudges between them.
Life had been so peaceful.
"Yanchao, in the afterlife, pray for Ah-Huan every day. Atone for your sins."
Lady Chang patted his back gently, as if he were still a child.
"Mother..."
"I was wrong..."
They had mercilessly killed their own sister, Ah-Huan.
Now, in this life, he too died by a kinsman's hand—such was the wheel of fate.
A breeze swept through. Song Yanchao breathed his last.
......
The next day, Qin Prince's Mansion.
"Song Yanchao is dead."
Song Yu's words caused Song Shihuan to strike a wrong note on the qin. "Song Yanming killed him in a drunken rage—stabbed him eight times."
The music turned sharp and frantic, as if choking someone, then softened again moments later.
"I never thought Song Yanchao would die like this," Song Shihuan murmured, her voice so light it might scatter with the wind.
How... satisfying.
Eight wounds—enough to ensure a painful death for Song Yanchao, and enough to ruin Song Yanming.
Song Yu stepped closer, gently tracing the red marks left by the qin strings on Song Shihuan's fingers. These hands—he wouldn’t let them be stained by the filthy blood of the Ping Prince's Mansion.
The vengeance of their past life, he would exact for her.
His Ah-Huan needed only peace and happiness.
"Imperial Grandfather must be furious," Song Shihuan said after a pause.
"Committing fratricide? Emperor Yuanyou will never spare Song Yanming." Song Yu enveloped her small hand in his. "Your Imperial Grandfather is the Son of Heaven. His resilience is greater than you think."
"Now, keep playing."
Song Shihuan nodded.
Song Ling was dead. Song Yanchao was dead. Next... would be Song Yanzheng.
......
February 23rd. The grading of the imperial examination papers was complete.
For once, the officials were in unanimous agreement.
"Are we certain there will be no more arguments?" Shen Mingwen asked as he dipped his brush in ink.
The others shook their heads.
"Let the rankings be written."
The list was compiled from the lowest rank upwards, with the top scholar's name inscribed last.
All examiners were present for the ceremony, each with a cup of warmed wine. An official called out the names one by one, and Shen Mingwen transcribed them.
Until the final one...
As he wrote that name, Shen Mingwen's hand trembled. Beside him, Ye Shijie struggled to contain his emotions, downing his wine in one gulp.
What exhilaration!
"Send the final list to His Majesty at once," Shen Mingwen ordered after a full day of writing. "Once Emperor Yuanyou approves it and the Ministry of Rites seals it, the rankings will be official."
"You’ve all worked hard these days."
He quickly wiped the moisture from his eyes. The Emperor would surely be overjoyed when he saw the results.
Meanwhile, in the Purple Palace Hall...
Emperor Yuanyou was nearly vomiting blood from rage over the Ping Prince's Mansion affair.
Wu Qi's voice broke in, "Your Majesty, the examination rankings have arrived."
The rankings?
The Emperor stiffened, mechanically accepting the scroll. His eyes went straight to the top name.
For a moment, his mind went blank.
