Sima Qing, who took his mother's surname, was a prodigy who roamed the jianghu until the age of fifteen.
That year, his mother fell gravely ill. On her deathbed, she brought him back to the capital and entrusted him to the late emperor.
Though he had spent years wandering outside the palace, the late emperor adored this untamed son of his, impressed by his skills and disdain for the pomp of the imperial court.
The Crown Prince at the time was already thirty years old and found this sudden younger brother—only three years older than his own son—utterly fascinating.
Sima Qing carried the rugged aura of the jianghu and had not the slightest interest in the throne… otherwise, he would have returned much sooner.
Back then, Tianqi was still unstable, with frequent battles erupting in the northwest and southwest. Sima Qing, a master of martial arts, followed the Crown Prince on campaigns across the land, witnessing countless sights along the way.
During this time, the late emperor passed away, forcing the Crown Prince to return to the capital and ascend the throne. Sima Qing remained by Xiao Chi’s side, guarding the northwest for three years and crushing Great Yan’s ambitions to reclaim Wushuo.
The newly enthroned emperor, plagued by the lingering effects of war and the relentless burden of governance, did not last long.
On his deathbed, he left his son with four words: "Trust your imperial uncle."
That year, Qi Mingchuan was fifteen, and his imperial uncle Sima Qing, eighteen.
By the late emperor’s decree, Sima Qing was appointed Regent, tasked with assisting the young emperor in ruling the realm.
Working alongside seasoned ministers, Sima Qing stabilized Tianqi’s affairs step by step—from the livelihoods of the people to the security of the borders—solidifying the new emperor’s authority. He willingly played the villain, quietly rooting out true traitors in the shadows.
At twenty, Sima Qing took a poisoned arrow meant for the young emperor, losing all his martial prowess and nearly his life… but in doing so, he uncovered the most deeply hidden threat.
To this day, that threat has been eradicated by Sima Qing’s schemes.
To the emperor, Sima Qing was first the Regent, then his imperial uncle.
But to Qi Mingchuan, Sima Qing was first his imperial uncle, then the Regent.
Having risked his life twice, Sima Qing now had only five years left… yet, due to the chaos stirred by Prince Ping, he was to be sent to Great Yan for a political marriage.
For Tianqi, this was both an insult and a tremendous loss.
For Qi Mingchuan, it was no different from sending Sima Qing to his death with his own hands.
The imperial study remained silent for what felt like an eternity.
The emperor’s eyes reddened. "Imperial Uncle… I…"
Sima Qing looked up at him, his own emotions tangled. "So Great Yan holds me in such high regard."
"But Your Majesty need not be so pessimistic." Sima Qing, unusually solemn, poured two cups of tea with deliberate grace. "Emperor Yan’s move is merely a reaction to his fear—that Tianqi might surpass Great Yan in the near future."
"This is a good sign. It means we’ve grown strong enough to warrant his caution."
"And he has clearly overestimated me while underestimating you." Sima Qing slid one cup toward the emperor, meeting his gaze.
"Times have changed. I am not who I once was, and neither are you, Your Majesty."
The emperor lowered his eyes to the steaming tea.
Sima Qing sighed. "Your Majesty, what I said in the hall that day was not spoken in anger."
"You have become an exceptional ruler. Tianqi no longer needs a Regent." He lifted the teacup lid with ease, a faint smile playing on his lips.
The rising steam blurred his vision.
"Imperial Uncle…" The emperor restrained himself, watching him intently.
"However, this prince cannot simply go as a hostage for nothing." Sima Qing set down his teacup, pondered for a moment, and said, "For the next twenty years, Tianqi and Great Yan must not go to war... If we can maintain peace and friendship indefinitely, that would naturally be ideal."
"Only then would it be worthwhile. What does Your Majesty think?" he asked with an air of nonchalance.
The tea had cooled slightly. The emperor took a sip, the strong brew helping to suppress the bitterness in his heart.
After a long silence, he replied in a low voice, "The royal uncle speaks wisely."
Great Yan Palace.
Consort Ning had endured for too long. Only when Eunuch Lü returned did she finally have an outlet for her fury.
"We should have eradicated them back then—even if he was the successor you favored most, you shouldn’t have spared him!"
The usually composed and virtuous consort had now lost all reason. "Look at the mess he’s made! That Yan Zhaoning is practically flaunting her superiority right in my face!"
Eunuch Lü frowned but instinctively tried to calm the frantic consort.
"The palace servants outside aren’t deaf."
Consort Ning choked back her rage, then buried her face against his chest, pounding his chest twice in frustration. "Then tell me, what do we do now? She’s already been named Crown Prince... Fu Lianyi has been dead for years, yet the emperor still clings to her memory! He won’t even heed the ministers who risked their lives to protest!"
Eunuch Lü fell silent for a moment, his gaze darkening. "Being named Crown Prince means nothing. She hasn’t become emperor yet. Where is Yan Zhaoning now?"
Consort Ning said, "There’s been no news of her recently."
Eunuch Lü narrowed his eyes. "Don’t panic. I’ll investigate... If an opportunity arises, I’ll make her regret ever returning."
Hearing this, Consort Ning finally calmed down.
"I will secure Great Yan for Heng'er!"
Jiu Yue had followed Yan Lingshuang to the grasslands.
At this time of year, the temperature difference between day and night was stark.
Yet Jiu Yue wore only two or three layers of sheer dancing robes as she stayed in a tent with Yan Lingshuang and the other grassland dancers.
The Old Khan was thoroughly pleased with himself. He cared little about taking a wife—only about humiliating Great Yan.
The marriage procession had arrived in the grasslands that afternoon, and by evening, a hasty, perfunctory ceremony was underway... But before the consummation, the Old Khan demanded that Yan Lingshuang dress like a grassland dancer and perform for the Deputy Khans and local chieftains.
Age had made him reckless.
Jiu Yue lowered her gaze to examine a delicate chain around her waist.
Strong enough, she thought with satisfaction, giving it a light tug.
"That Chi Na of yours—can he be trusted?" Under the guise of adjusting Yan Lingshuang’s robes, Jiu Yue couldn’t help but ask.
Yan Lingshuang gave an imperceptible nod. "Don’t worry. I’ve prepared contingencies. You won’t be in danger."
Jiu Yue smirked. "I won’t be in danger... If he proves incompetent, you’ll have to take over the grasslands yourself. As for a husband, you can always find another."
Danger? There would be none. She wouldn’t allow it.
Having come all this way, she wouldn’t leave empty-handed.
If Chi Na, the man Yan Lingshuang had chosen, couldn’t measure up, Jiu Yue wouldn’t hesitate to intervene.
Yan Lingshuang: "..."
After years of forced submission, Yan Lingshuang was stunned by her casual audacity.
Before long, a tall dancer approached the two of them. Jiu Yue raised a brow as the person spoke in a deliberately high-pitched voice, "Chi Na is ready. He’ll handle the guards outside—we only need to deal with those inside the tent."
Yan Lingshuang turned her head and met the dancer’s evasive gaze. A flicker of horror crossed her usually icy expression.
Jiu Yue reassured her, "Don’t worry, he’s one of mine."
Indeed, this was none other than the covert guard, Wu Liang.
Yan Lingshuang was stunned. How had she failed to notice him all this time?
Before she could say another word, a burly man strode into the room.
As a princess sent for marriage alliance, Yan Lingshuang’s attire naturally differed from the other dancers—making it easier for the tribal leaders to identify her.
The princess of Great Yan, forced to dance humbly on their territory—what a delightful sight! How satisfying!
The brute walked straight toward Yan Lingshuang, his intentions plain on his face, his leer downright lecherous.
"Princess, after you," he said, reaching out to grab her.
Yan Lingshuang shot him a frosty glare and brushed his hand aside. "I can walk on my own."
Ban Tu scowled, then vented his frustration by stomping on the foot of a dancer beside her—none other than Jiu Yue. "Hmph! If you still have that pride later, I, Ban Tu, might actually respect you!"
With that, he stormed off.
The system: "..."
Yan Lingshuang & Wu Liang: "..."
In silent unison, they turned to look at Jiu Yue, who had just been stepped on. Sure enough, her expression had darkened.
"Perfect," Jiu Yue said flatly. "Leave Ban Tu to me. I’ll make sure he’s the last to die."
