Xiao Shao sighed softly.

He pulled the young man's thin shoulders over, pulling him into his arms to form a sort of embracing posture. With one hand around his back and the other stroking the back of his head, he softly called his name: "Qi Yan?"

Qi Yan did not reply. Even his breakdown was silent, just like his essays—restrained and implicit. Xiao Shao held his shoulders; if not for that tiny, imperceptible tremble, the person in his arms would seem as if he had fallen asleep.

But this was not a good sign. When a broken person vented their feelings, even if it was painful and hopeless, they could always move on. However, Qi Yan wasn't hysterical, nor did he scream himself hoarse. He was like a pile of burnt-out kindling, where even the last bit of residual warmth had dissipated, leaving only an empty, deathly stillness.

Xiao Shao held him. In this position, he couldn't see Qi Yan's face, but from the cold, icy dampness on the corner of his shoulder, he could imagine that those elegant eyes must be brimming with tears, which were now uncontrollably rolling down.

They stood before Prince An's tomb for a long time, so long that the mountain wind fell silent, and the water stains on his shoulder were almost evaporated. Only then did Xiao Shao pinch Qi Yan's earlobe: "Feeling a bit better?"

He teased softly, "Crying like this in front of the tomb of a prince of the previous dynasty, if the tomb keeper saw it, they might think you're an orphan of the former royal family coming here to weep for your ancestors."

It was a habitual joke, but after Xiao Shao said it, he felt it wasn't right. Wasn't Qi Yan exactly an orphan who had lost his parents? Although not Prince An's, it was obviously inappropriate for him to use such words.

At this moment, of course, Qi Yan had no way of responding to his joke. He merely hugged Xiao Shao tighter, so tight that there wasn't the slightest gap between them, so tight that Xiao Shao's ribs ached. It seemed that only the temperature of skin pressed against skin could stop him from reminiscing, from making associations, and allow him to find a moment of respite from the boundless nightmare.

"So sad, huh? Your eyes will swell up if you keep this up." Xiao Shao patted his shoulder and sighed, "Stop crying. I'll help you kill Xiao Yi, okay?"

Qi Yan suddenly looked up.

Xiao Yi, the Crown Prince of the Daqian Dynasty, the heir apparent of the empire, of noble imperial blood, a figure capable of summoning clouds and rain with a flip of his hand. Yet, Xiao Shao had spoken of it so lightly, with a tone as nonchalant as discussing what to eat for dinner.

Xiao Shao looked at him: "Why are you looking at me like that... You don't have the temperament of those pedantic scholars, do you? With their foolish loyalty and filial piety, thinking the emperor is faultless and imperial power is greater than the heavens, and wanting to protect him?"

Qi Yan's lips trembled, his teeth clamping down on his lower lip until it bled. He gave a silent, bitter smile, practically squeezing the words out from between his teeth: "No... I want to..."

How could he not want to, how could he not hate?

The more than ten members of his Qi family, though not an extravagantly wealthy aristocratic house, had lived in harmony and peace. Now, only his older sister and he remained, along with two very young sisters. Piece by piece, incident by incident, how could he not hate?

He wanted Xiao Yi dead.

But Xiao Yi was the Crown Prince, the emperor destined to rule the world. What could his hatred achieve?

Pulling himself out from the overwhelming pain, Qi Yan sluggishly realized what incredibly treasonous words he had just spoken.

Spending day after day beside the Second Prince, Xiao Shao's relaxed, peaceful, intimate, and gentle attitude almost made Qi Yan forget that the person in front of him was also a prince, the biological younger brother of Xiao Yi.

Today, Xiao Shao rather liked him—perhaps liking his appearance, or perhaps something else—and didn't mind his offense. But if he were to mind in the future, this single sentence alone could cost him his life and subject him to torture ten thousand times more agonizing than what his father endured.

Qi Yan didn't have many chips to begin with; he dared not gamble.

So he gathered his thoughts, took a step back, and walked out of Xiao Shao's embrace. Lowering his eyes to conceal his emotions, Qi Yan secretly blamed himself for giving away his trust too easily. Hastily reigning in the bitterness in his heart, he said, "I apologize. I lost my composure in front of you."

Xiao Shao looked at him quietly.

Qi Yan's eyes were red, and the tear mole at the corner of his eye was stained with tears, glistening with moisture, making him look even more despondent and pitiful. His attempt to feign composure also looked utterly miserable. As Xiao Shao watched, his heart softened.

He then raised his hand and placed it at the corner of Qi Yan's eye.

His thumb pad wiped away that bit of half-dried dampness, as gently as wiping dust off an inkstone. A warm heat lingered at the corner of his eye, causing that patch of skin to twitch faintly.

Xiao Shao said softly, "Truly stopped crying? Alright, I'll help you kill Xiao Yi."

Before Qi Yan could react, Xiao Shao asked lightly, "Little Tanhua, do you want to enter the Grand Secretariat?"

Qi Yan was startled, the fingers pinching his cuff tightening. He looked at Xiao Shao in disbelief, as if he had heard something incomprehensible.

...Enter the Grand Secretariat?

This dynasty did not have a Prime Minister; thus, the Grand Secretariat overpowered the Six Ministers and became the highest hub of power in the Daqian Dynasty. The scholars of the world bustled about, each dreaming of mastering the civil and martial arts to sell their talents to the imperial family, leaving behind a chapter or a few lines in the vast annals of history, so as not to let down their ten years of arduous study and their bellyful of talent.

But the Grand Secretariat... how could a eunuch enter it?

It was an honorable and prestigious place for civil officials. He was afraid that if he walked in, others would find it soiled.

Seeing his expression, Xiao Shao knew exactly what he was thinking.

Qi Yan had talent, yes, but sometimes he was inevitably pedantic. He thought too much and easily got stuck in dead ends, carrying some of the habits of scholars. Xiao Shao just happened to dislike these habits. Seeing them made him want to tease, wanting to take this elegant scholar into his hands and play with him until he could no longer maintain his demeanor, until he was on the verge of tears.

So he pinched Qi Yan's earlobe, leaning in to coax him playfully, "Once I kill Xiao Yi and ascend the throne as king, I will be the master of the world. Whoever I want to enter the Grand Secretariat, will enter the Grand Secretariat. Little Tanhua, when the time comes, I'll give you a new identity. You'll just have to endure a bit of fatigue, helping me review memorials every day. How does that sound?"

Qi Yan looked up, his dead eyes seemingly coming alive, carrying fine, fragmented light.

Xiao Shao thought to himself, scholars are truly baffling and unreasonable. Exploiting him to review memorials actually made him happy?

But Xiao Shao observed Qi Yan's expression. The dead air had dissipated a bit, as if he had finally recovered. He also breathed a slight sigh of relief. For some reason, he thought of the asparagus fern he once raised.

He had snatched that asparagus fern from Grand Tutor Song's hands. Old Man Song liked to tend to flowers and plants, saying that growing flowers and nurturing plants cultivated one's character and calmed the mind. Out of curiosity, Xiao Shao snatched a pot to play with. The asparagus fern was planted in a pot, growing elegantly, but after being battered by the cold wind for a while, it was nearly dead. Xiao Shao brought it home, added soil and fertilizer, and carefully tended to it for a summer. By the second year, its branches and leaves were luxuriant.

Later, Xiao Shao played with other things and never planted flowers again, but that asparagus fern continued to live well in his study, full of greenery and pleasing to the eye.

Ever since he brought Qi Yan back from the Directorate of Ceremonial, it felt like he was raising a dying asparagus fern all over again. This plant had endured wind and rain, suffered through a long period of severe cold, and had reached the point where its oil was exhausted and its lamp dead. It could die at any moment. He couldn't hit it, scold it, or punish it; he had to look after it carefully just to nurture a few tender shoots.

But thinking like this, he found it somewhat absurd.

In his past life, Qi Yan followed the Crown Prince and survived perfectly well. Later, he even commanded the winds and summoned the rain in the imperial court, frequently locking horns with Xiao Shao. He was very glorious. When did he ever become an asparagus fern needing his meticulous care?

But looking at this still-green Qi Yan in front of him, Xiao Shao couldn't help but soften his heart a little, and then a little more.

He sighed deeply and stuffed the bundle in his hand into Qi Yan's arms: "Feeling better now?"

Qi Yan was still a bit stunned, only saying: "...Mn."

Xiao Shao: "Hold it."

He shoved a small jar into Qi Yan's hands, scooped some dirt from in front of Prince An's tomb, filled it in, and then carefully sealed it with cloth and twine.

This was one piece of evidence.

After circling Prince An's tomb and finding no more clues, Qi Yan packed the jar away, preparing to tie it to the horse when they returned.

But Xiao Shao said, "Don't tie it. You hold onto it."

Qi Yan was taken aback but still held the jar properly. At this point, it was less than half a shichen before dawn. It would be somewhat difficult to ride back to the residence, but Xiao Shao showed no intention of leaving. He wandered left and right in front of Prince An's tomb, practically acting as if he were on a spring outing.

Then, he walked over to where the horse was tied, untied the reins, slapped the horse on the rump, and let the old horse kick up its hooves and scamper down the mountain, disappearing from sight in a few bounds.

This way, it was absolutely impossible for them to rush back to the residence.

Qi Yan seemed to understand something and asked, "Are you waiting for something?"

Xiao Shao smiled. "Waiting for Song Luyang."

Standing at the highest point of Mount Qinglong, they gazed downward. The east revealed the pale white of a fish's belly, and the sky brightened as if scorched by fire. Immediately after, at the foot of Mount Qinglong, a crimson line of fire also rapidly spread upwards from the base.

Qi Yan's brow twitched.

Song Luyang had taken a desperate risk and actually set fire to the mountain.

Xiao Shao, however, stood up, nonchalantly patted the grass ash off his legs, and smiled, "Finally here."

He had been waiting for Song Luyang for a long time.

Xiao Shao taking Qi Yan, the victim of the Silver Case, and running up the mountain in the dead of night—anyone would know something was fishy. If exposed, Song Luyang would face the same fate as the Qi family: family ruined, imprisoned, or perhaps even worse. Therefore, he would definitely try every means possible to eliminate Xiao Shao.

And as long as Xiao Shao died, with the emperor far away, Song Luyang could concoct any excuse. With the Crown Prince mediating, even if the emperor was furious, he would at most be dismissed from office, not sentenced to death.

Emperor Jianning was already in his sixties and didn't have many years left to live. Once he died and the Crown Prince ascended the throne, Song Luyang would still have the merit of assisting the new emperor, serving as his right-hand man. Looking at it this way, killing a playboy prince was nothing.

He didn't dare to openly assassinate a prince within the Hedong Prefecture, but Xiao Shao leaving the city to climb Mount Qinglong gave him the perfect excuse—the climate in Hedong was dry and prone to mountain fires. The Second Prince drank too much and fooled around with a servant on the mountain, accidentally getting caught in a fire and burning to death. This was natural disaster and fate; the Second Prince was destined to face this calamity, and the blame couldn't be placed on Song Luyang.

When the memorial reached the Capital City, with the Crown Prince mediating, there might not even be a dismissal, just a demotion. For Song Luyang, this was a most cost-effective deal.

Qi Yan frowned. The fire had already formed an encirclement, growing increasingly intense. Although it was still at the foot of the mountain, a strong wind had picked up. The fire would ride the wind, and it wouldn't take long for it to turn into a prairie fire and burn right up to them.

Xiao Shao remained composed, as calm as if he were strolling down the street sightseeing. He was only missing a fan in his hand to look exactly like a playboy listening to music in a brothel.

Qi Yan glanced at the water and dry rations in the bundle: "You are prepared?"

Xiao Shao chuckled: "I didn't study the map for nothing. Follow me."

The mercury in the eight Prince An tombs had seeped into the surface over the years. This Mount Qinglong was like a balding man losing his hair; many places were completely barren of grass. These areas naturally blocked the fire and were temporarily safe.

Xiao Shao had wandered around the mountaintop earlier, observing for so long, precisely to find this.

However, even if the fire couldn't reach them, the smoke was lethal. They had to leave before the fire spread further.

Xiao Shao memorized the intricate paths in his mind. Turning his back to the direction of Hedong Prefecture, he pulled Qi Yan towards the back of the mountain. His steps were unhurried, his demeanor steady. Following him, Qi Yan also relaxed. Before long, they heard the murmuring sound of water.

Xiao Shao dug out the map from the bundle: "If we follow this mountain stream all the way north, it will merge into the Shunqing River. Across the Shunqing River is the territory of Yao Jin, the Grand Garrison Eunuch of Hedong. I wonder if Eunuch He has arrived yet, and if he has found his old friend?"

With the mountain stream beside them, the fire was no longer so terrifying, and Qi Yan settled down. But the direction of the mountain wind was unpredictable. Large plumes of black smoke blew their way, filling the air with an acrid, choking scent. When sweeping a hand across a tree trunk, it came away with a layer of floating ash.

Xiao Shao bent down and wrung out two handkerchiefs in the mountain stream.

The handkerchiefs were thoroughly soaked with water.

Then he stood up, "Little Tanhua, close your eyes."

Hearing his words, Qi Yan naturally closed his eyes—he was now very accustomed to listening to Xiao Shao. Then, a cool handkerchief was placed over his face, completely covering it.

Deprived of his sight, his field of vision turning dark, Qi Yan's breathing stopped for a split second.

This scene was a bit like his dreams.

In his dream, he had been tied to a torture bed, and similarly, there was a soaking wet handkerchief. Someone continuously poured water over it. Once the handkerchief absorbed enough water, it made it impossible to breathe.

The feeling of suffocation in the dream was so real, the pain unbearable, and the lack of oxygen made him dizzy and his vision blur.

And Eunuch He stood to the side, reprimanding him in a low voice, telling him what rules he had broken and what mistakes he had made, demanding Qi Yan memorize them one by one.

But Qi Yan's ears rang intensely; he couldn't even hear clearly what Eunuch He was saying. When a round of punishment ended, he was demanded to repeat his mistakes. If he couldn't, another handkerchief would be laid over him. Ultimately, the handkerchiefs were layered on top of each other, and Qi Yan was brought to the brink of death before being let down, his entire body limp.

This experience hadn't happened just once, but many times, many, many times, so much so that the moment the handkerchief covered his face, his body stiffened instantly in a conditioned reflex, and he began to breathe rapidly.

But this time was different. This time, Xiao Shao was by his side.

With Xiao Shao by his side, the nightmare was just a nightmare. They weren't in a torture chamber, but on Mount Qinglong. The mountain was filled with scorching thick smoke, a stream flowed beside them, and His Second Highness was holding his hand, leading him through an expanse of ashen black.

At this moment, the flames and thick smoke seemed to dissipate. All his senses remained where their fingertips touched, the temperature searing and scalding hot.

Very warm, very comfortable.

Qi Yan squeezed back, tightly grasping Xiao Shao's hand.

Thus, the nightmare faded away.