Chapter 9#
Firelight#
Zhu Anning left.
As he went, he seemed to have made some kind of decision — the look he cast back at Yin Yuheng carried a new edge of coldness.
Yin Yuheng watched him go with a smile, leaning back against the headboard, eyes narrowing lazily.
“Shidi is adorable,” Yin Yuheng mused. “Pity about the head injury.”
Xiao Bai was baffled. “Hm?”
“Nothing,” Yin Yuheng said airily. “Teasing little Shidi is actually quite entertaining.”
Xiao Bai: …? Entertaining? As in — being used as a blood slave?
Heng-ge, your idea of fun is very strange.
…
Having had his fill of teasing Zhu Anning, Yin Yuheng had no desire to linger in the Guoshi Manor. He put on a suitably forlorn and pitiful performance in front of Li Guanghan and made to leave.
Li Guanghan, remembering that Yin Yuheng was, in fact, his disciple, examined his injuries before letting him go.
“It’s a Demon Clan water-cold needle. The wound carries a frost poison, which is why it’s healing slowly.” Li Guanghan said it without inflection. “Find time to visit the Wenhua Pool.”
He had personally escorted Zhu Anning there himself. For Yin Yuheng, he simply issued the instruction and left it at that.
Yin Yuheng gave a quietly mournful smile, lowering his eyes. “Of course. Thank you for your concern, Shifu.”
The very picture of someone overlooked by the person he cared about — gracious and understanding despite it all.
It wasn’t until he stepped through the front gates of the Guoshi Manor that Yin Yuheng remembered someone was still waiting outside.
“Lu Yan’s still there?”
“He is,” Xiao Bai replied. “He’s been waiting for you the whole time.”
Yin Yuheng said “oh,” his expression perfectly composed.
It’s already the middle of the night. I really just want to go home and sleep. With minimal enthusiasm, he gave a perfunctory blink and arranged his features into something resembling pleasant surprise as he looked toward Lu Yan standing beneath the willow tree not far off.
“You haven’t left yet?”
Lu Yan had been standing there for who knew how long. When he saw Yin Yuheng, a faint smile crossed his face.
Moonlight spilled silver across the ground, stars scattered above in their thousands. Lu Yan was a strikingly handsome young man to begin with — in the soft caress of the night wind, he stood even straighter, like pine or bamboo.
“I was worried about you. I’m glad you’re all right.” He smiled. “I’ll be leaving soon. I just… still owed you a thank you.”
Yin Yuheng had anticipated exactly this answer.
But the satisfaction of having predicted it didn’t come. Instead, without quite knowing why, he felt a flicker of something like weariness.
He thought back to earlier that day — Lu Yan’s shock, his worry, his frantic fear when Yin Yuheng had taken that blow for him. And he found himself wondering: when Lu Yan eventually discovered who had shot that original arrow, what would his reaction be?
Would it play out as the plot intended — deception, manipulation, a calculated revenge?
The key events could not be changed. Sooner or later, Lu Yan would learn the truth.
Thinking this, Yin Yuheng’s smile grew a little more refined.
“Someone wants you dead. The moment you leave Chaoge, you’ll be walking into danger.”
…
Zhu Anning sat in the candlelight, staring blankly at the Liyan Warm Jade and the jade hairpin resting in his hands.
Wind crept through the gap in the window, making the candle flame gutter and sway, letting out faint little pops and crackles. The warm light fell across the silver bracelet at his wrist, gilding it with a soft amber glow.
Then a strange glimmer rippled across the bracelet’s surface, and a low, unhurried voice emerged from within it.
“How are things progressing?”
Zhu Anning jolted back to himself. His hand trembled, and the warm jade and hairpin clattered onto the table.
“What happened?” The voice paused, then continued, “Something went wrong?”
“…No.” Zhu Anning pushed down the inexplicable guilt rising in his chest. “Everything went smoothly.”
“Good. Have you seen the Crown Prince?”
Zhu Anning lowered his gaze. “I have.”
A low laugh sounded from the other end.
“And how did it feel — seeing your enemy?”
Zhu Anning said nothing.
The other person didn’t seem to mind. There was a sound almost like a sigh. “Be careful. Yin Yuheng is… not someone to underestimate.”
Not someone to underestimate. Zhu Anning turned the words over in silence. A person who could devise something like the Immortal Exile Decree at such a young age — perhaps that was true enough.
And yet. To him, Shixiong had been nothing but gentle. If not for all that hatred, he couldn’t help but feel — Shixiong really was a very, very good person.
Zhu Anning made a quiet sound of acknowledgement.
“Back then, Yin Yuheng took deliberate revenge against the Fengliang Prefect for some slight in hospitality. The entire household was executed — the Prefect’s eldest son among them.” The voice from the bracelet was low and weighted. “The young master was an old friend of mine. I’ve spent years trying to find a way to avenge him. Is that not the same purpose as yours?”
At the mention of “the young master,” a trace of genuine warmth finally entered Zhu Anning’s gaze.
“I don’t remember much of what happened back then. But I still remember that the young master was very good to me,” he said, something wistful moving through his eyes. “I will never forget that.”
The voice sounded satisfied. “Good. Be careful around Li Guanghan. Say only that you can’t remember clearly, and don’t bring up the past — he mustn’t notice anything amiss.”
“I understand,” Zhu Anning replied.
He was, after all, an impostor who had stepped into the identity of Li Guanghan’s supposed “life-saving benefactor” — it was only by that fiction that he received such favored treatment in the Guoshi Manor. He couldn’t afford a single misstep.
When the voice faded from the bracelet, Zhu Anning removed it and ran his fingers lightly over a faint scar on his wrist.
He still remembered, dimly — the cold edge of a blade against his skin when he was small, the slow seep of blood… No matter how he’d wept and begged, it had made no difference. That was the darkest memory he carried, the deepest hell he’d known. Even with a fractured past, he could not forget that pain, or that hatred.
He also remembered being brought into the Fengliang Prefect’s manor, and meeting the young master there. He had saved him, helped him, protected him, led him out of that hell…
What had he looked like?
The effort of trying to remember brought on a dull ache. Zhu Anning buried his face in the crook of his arm. He couldn’t recall the details — only that he had called him gongzi.
Gongzi had told him not to be afraid. That no one would ever hurt him again.
Gongzi had lifted his wrist and bandaged it with careful hands.
Gongzi had laughed and ruffled his hair.
Gongzi had said: I wish you a life of peace and safety, of quiet joy and ease.
…
What came after, Zhu Anning could not remember clearly.
The Prefect’s manor had been seized without warning. The Prefect and his sons had all been put to the blade. Everyone said it was the Crown Prince — young as he was — who had moved against them…
A breath of wind swept through. The candle flame lurched and guttered, then steadied again. Zhu Anning came back to himself with a start, and realized a fine, cold sweat had broken out across his back, even as his chest felt hollow and ice-cold.
His gongzi was dead. Because of Yin Yuheng.
How could he let a little warmth from this person make him forget his purpose — forget the debt of vengeance he owed?
Zhu Anning drew a long, slow breath. His fingers moved over the scar on his wrist. And all at once, a perfect idea took shape in his mind.
He knew, now, how he would take his revenge.
You’re so good to me, aren’t you?
Fine, then. Let’s see just how good you can be.
Let’s see if you can bear the same suffering I once endured.
Zhu Anning lowered his gaze slightly. Behind those beautiful fox-like eyes, a cool, mocking smile glinted and vanished.
…
Yin Yuheng knew nothing of his little Shidi’s internal deliberations. He was busy escorting Lu Yan out of the city.
Lu Yan had insisted on leaving, and Yin Yuheng couldn’t truly stop him.
The night wind was soft, brushing past their faces, carrying the damp fragrance of grass and wood.
“I never imagined I’d meet someone like you in Chaoge,” Lu Yan said, smiling. “If the timing had been different, I know we would have been the closest of friends.”
Yin Yuheng looked back at him, eyes also bright with a smile. “And who says we aren’t, right now?”
Lu Yan paused at that, then gave a rueful laugh. “Right now I can barely keep myself alive. I’d hate to drag you down with me.”
Yin Yuheng raised an eyebrow. “Who could possibly drag me down? If you truly feel any gratitude toward me, don’t say things like that.”
“…All right.” Warmth stirred quietly in Lu Yan’s chest.
He said, more softly, “I nearly forgot — you’re the Crown Prince of the Li Dynasty. You’re not quite what I pictured.”
Yin Yuheng’s interest was piqued. “Oh? What did you picture?”
Lu Yan considered it. “Someone who establishes themselves at such a young age, who could even push through something like the Immortal Exile Decree — they should be cool-headed, bold, decisive, sharp-minded, skilled at statecraft… in short, not someone gentle and kind-hearted and soft the way you are. I suppose I had it wrong.”
He finished speaking and, hearing no reply, glanced over — only to find that Yin Yuheng had stopped walking at some point and was looking at him with quiet attention.
“What is it?” Lu Yan asked, puzzled.
No, Yin Yuheng thought. You didn’t have it wrong. I had it wrong.
The you in the story was vindictive, two-faced, ruthless — someone who deserved no mercy when the suffering came. But the you standing here now feels almost… naive. Endearing.
Did you fool me, or did I fool you?
Yin Yuheng let a warm smile spread across his face. The listless boredom of a moment ago dissolved completely.
He was someone whose moods came and went like weather — quick to arrive, quick to pass.
And now, facing Lu Yan, he found the same fascination he’d felt the very first time they met flickering back to life.
A bold idea took shape.
They had reached the city gates. In a few more steps, Lu Yan would be outside the walls. Around them, the layered silhouettes of towers and pavilions rose at scattered intervals, and in the near distance the city wall stood silent beneath the moonlight.
Yin Yuheng’s gaze snapped sharply toward the deep shadow pooled behind one of those towers. His voice cut through the quiet like a blade:
“Who’s there?!”
In the same instant, he had already drawn She Tianlang and Bu Huitou from his qiankun pouch — bow in hand, arrow nocked and loosed in one fluid motion.
The very bow and arrow that had dealt Lu Yan his grievous wound, all those weeks ago.
The arrow blazed through the air like a comet, splitting the vast dark of the night — and just as it had on that earlier evening, its light fell across Lu Yan’s face, illuminating the clean lines of his profile.
A fire that fierce, seen even once, is not something you could ever forget.