The Mirror of Startling Beauty: Her courtiers are everywhere

Inside Chengtian Hall, candlelight blazed brightly.

Hundreds of palace lanterns illuminated the halls as bright as day, yet they could not warm the figure in the black robe with gold patterns.

Tang Xi sat upright on the dragon throne, her expression serene, like a deity sculpted from millennia-old ice.

He didn't look at anyone, but lowered his eyes, staring at the unapproved memorial at his fingertips.

"Lightweight fabric—"

He spoke.

His voice was not loud, and could even be described as calm.

But when those four words slipped from his lips, they were like a cold blade slowly gliding across brocade, piercing the entire hall into silence, even the candlelight seemed to shrink back for a moment.

"Execute him."

He still kept his eyes downcast.

It's as if it's not about a human life, but about the snow that's supposed to fall tonight, the lights that's supposed to be extinguished, and the last remaining plum blossom that's supposed to fall from the branch.

No one in the hall dared to answer.

Shen Cuo stood in the shadows at the corner of the palace, even his breathing was extremely soft.

He knew what His Majesty was thinking at that moment.

It's one thing for his Zhizhi to provoke someone.

Even if she fools all the geniuses of the Nine Provinces, he will only stand behind her, cleaning up her mess and shielding her from the storm.

But those madmen who dared to harass his embroidered garments were a different matter altogether.

not to mention.

Hua Rongshi even dared to poison his Zhizhi.

Whether it was intentional or unintentional.

Both are capital offenses.

A faint hint of coldness flashed across Tang Xiye's eyes.

The coldness was so deep, as deep as the ice at the bottom of an ancient well, hidden from the light of day, yet capable of freezing any living thing that dared to approach.

He didn't miss a single word of the messages sent by the Hidden Dragon Guard.

Finally, it was the young general from the Feng family who helped him neutralize the effects of the medicine.

"Oh--"

He lowered his eyes, a barely perceptible curve appearing at the corner of his lips.

They dared to lay a finger on his clothes.

Just right.

When the wind scorches the flowers' beauty.

On the road to the underworld, they will keep each other company, so they will not be lonely.

The palace doors creaked softly.

The strategist Yan Ci entered, stepping into the candlelight.

A white robe with ink patterns, long silver-gray hair casually draped over his shoulders, accentuated his perpetually smiling face, which, in the flickering light, seemed to possess an unfathomable mystery.

He paused slightly, then walked into the hall as if nothing had happened.

He heard what was said just now.

"Your Majesty," Yan Ci began, his voice gentle, "Hua Rongshi is, after all, the Crown Prince of the Menghua Empire. How can we execute him so hastily?"

Shen Cuo stood at the corner of the hall, and felt relieved upon hearing this.

Finally, someone sobered up.

result.

"They should be killed silently."

Yan Ci's eyes crinkled into a smile, appearing harmless, but his words sent a chill down Shen Cuo's spine:

"Letting him die knowing the truth will only give people something to talk about. This Nine Extremes Alliance meeting will be perfect for keeping him in Baiyujing, making Emperor Menghua hesitant to act. Once we've used him—"

He paused, his smile deepening.

"I will arrange another... plausible accident for His Highness the Crown Prince."

Shen Cuo: "..."

He ultimately misplaced his trust.

The strategist Yan Ci is the most ruthless one in this hall.

"His Majesty--"

A eunuch's shrill voice came from outside the hall, breaking the eerie silence that filled the hall:

"The King of Beichen requests an audience."

Tangxi looked up at night.

In that instant, a dark current suddenly surged within the depths of his eyes, like beneath a frozen lake.

"...Announce."

The palace doors slowly opened.

He entered under the moonlight, wearing a deep purple robe.

The man was enveloped in a dark and sharp aura, like a blade tempered countless times by the night, its edge already formidable even before it was drawn.

Beichen Ji.

He was extremely handsome.

He had narrow, phoenix-shaped eyes, thin lips slightly pursed, and a deep, lingering melancholy and sharpness between his brows.

That sharpness is not the sharpness of a sword blade, but the edge that becomes even more razor-sharp after being repeatedly worn down by fate.

He walked into the hall and knelt on one knee.

His back was ramrod straight.

"Your Majesty, I pay my respects."

Tangxi Ye did not respond.

He simply looked down at him from his superior position.

His gaze was deep and unfathomable, as if he were looking at the most unpredictable piece in a game of chess.

There was an unyielding silence between them.

In that silence lurked the glint of swords, the fierce struggle where neither side would yield an inch, and the pride that both sides knew the truth yet refused to back down even a fraction.

Shen Cuo stood breathlessly at the corner of the hall, his fingertips unconsciously pressing against the sword at his waist.

The candlelight filling the hall seemed unable to suppress the silent undercurrents surging between the two.

a long time.

"Your Majesty," Bei Chenji spoke first, his voice low and steady, each word like polished cold jade, "Please entrust Rong Shi to my disposal."

He said "please".

But his posture, his tone, and his gaze that looked directly at the emperor.

It was clearly not a request.

Tangxi laughed at night.

The smile was so faint that it was almost imperceptible.

Like a cold current surging beneath the ice, it sends chills down your spine.

"Uncle, are you pleading for your cousin?"

He paused.

"OK."

The single word fell lightly, yet it weighed heavily on one's heart.

"Use your life—to exchange for his life."

"I--"

"Keep only one."

Bei Chenji suddenly raised his eyes.

His gaze was sharp as a blade, piercing straight at the figure in black gold.

His gaze held sharpness, fire, and the resentment and unwillingness that had been suppressed for more than twenty years.

"Your Majesty is forcing me into this situation."

"You can hate me."

Tang Xiye did not avoid that gaze.

He leaned forward slightly, like a dragon finally revealing its claws, looking down at its struggling prey:

"There are many people in this world who hate me."

He paused, a cold, detached smile curving his lips:

"We don't need you."

"I have been more lenient with you than I am with others."

He sat down, the hem of his robe casting a deep shadow on the dragon throne:

"If you are not satisfied—I can take back those three points at any time."

Bei Chenji looked at him.

a long time.

"Oh."

He chuckled softly.

There was no warmth in that laughter, only a sharpness that had been suppressed for too long and was finally breaking through the soil.

That sharp edge tore through his mask of forbearance for over twenty years, revealing the bloody, never-healed old wounds beneath.

"Does Your Majesty think I care about those three points?"

He spoke slowly, word by word.

He remained kneeling.

Yet his aura remained undiminished, resembling a lion driven to the brink of despair.

A dark fire burned in his eyes, a fire powerful enough to consume everything, including himself.

"I have never taken Your Majesty's leniency seriously."

He stared intently at the figure on the dragon throne, his gaze burning like torches.

"I am all alone."

He paused.

The voice was deeper, as if it were being crushed from the depths of the chest:

"Your Majesty had better not push your luck too far."

The hall was completely silent.

Shen Cuo's hand, which was resting on his sword, was already covered in cold sweat.

Yan Ci leaned against the window, his white robe with ink patterns fluttering gently in the night breeze. The smile on his face faded slightly, and something was quietly scheming in his eyes.

"I have granted you military power and bestowed upon you honors; how can this be considered deceiving you?"

Tangxi Ye spoke in a flat tone.

"Has Your Majesty ever trusted me all these years?"

Beichen Ji, word by word.

Tang Xiye remained silent for a moment.

The night wind blew through the hall, causing the candlelight to flicker.

Then he stood up.

His dark robe with gold patterns shimmered with a cold light in the candlelight as he walked step by step toward Bei Chenji, like a god looking down upon the world.

"You ask me whether I believe you or not?"

He stopped in front of him and looked down at him.

His gaze was deep and unfathomable, like the reflection of a cold moon in a deep pool.

"I believe you."

When those two words were uttered, Bei Chenji's pupils contracted almost imperceptibly for a moment.

"I believe you have ambition."

Tang Xiye spoke slowly, her voice low, yet each word clear:

"I believe you have the means."

"I believe you will not be content to be subservient to others."

He leaned forward slightly.

An imperial aura wafted over, carrying the scent of ambergris and the chill of ink.

"But I believe even more—"

His voice lowered, so low that only the two of them could hear it:

"I understand better than you what it means to have the power of life and death."

Bei Chenji looked up at him.

The two locked eyes, standing very close.

There was a knife, fire, and grudge in those eyes.

A sudden gust of wind swept through the night outside the palace.

The candlelight flickered for a moment, casting long, long shadows of the two opposing figures.

One is standing.

One is kneeling.

But the kneeling man's back never bent even slightly.

"Royal Uncle."

Tang Xi straightened up, her tone becoming indifferent:

"I grant you wealth and honor; this is an act of kindness."

He turned away, his back to him, the gold patterns on his black robe casting a deep shadow in the candlelight:

"If you are restless—"

"He only has himself to blame."

He paused.

"Step down."

"I--"

"There are other arrangements."

a long time.

Bei Chenji slowly stood up.

His crimson robe swept across the ground as he stood in the depths of the candlelight, gazing at the emperor's figure with his back to him.

He didn't say anything more.

She just gave him a deep look.

Then he turned around.

Step out of Chengtian Hall.

As night swallowed the crimson figure, Tang Xiye remained standing in the same spot.

Moonlight streamed in through the open palace doors, falling on the hem of his dark robe like light falling on a cold blade yet to be sheathed.

outside the temple.

Bei Chenji's footsteps faded into the distance.

His voice drifted faintly in the night breeze, low but clear:

"Who was responsible for the downfall of the Beichen Prince's Mansion back then?"

"Your Majesty is fully aware of the truth."

He paused for a moment.

"If you truly intend to harm even the slightest one of my family members..."

The voice carried a chilling undertone, as well as a desperate, all-or-nothing resolve:

"And this land—"

"It's not like we can't find a new owner."

As soon as he finished speaking, his figure completely disappeared into the night.

Shen Cuo suddenly turned his head to look at the emperor.

Yan Ci straightened up from the window, his smile vanished, leaving only a deep contemplation.

Tangxi Ye remained standing in the same spot.

The moonlight fell on his shoulders, coating them with a thin layer of silver.

A deep, indescribable gloom rose in his eyes.

"Tsk."

Yan Ci leaned against the window, his white robe with ink patterns fluttering in the night breeze.

He gazed in the direction where Bei Chenji had disappeared, his expression a mixture of amusement and sarcasm.

"Your Majesty, this sword—"

"It's really prickly."

He paused, then turned to look at Tang Xiye:

"Should I—cleanse the house for Your Majesty?"

The voice was gentle, yet it carried a chilling undertone.

"Given Bei Chenji's rebellious nature and disloyal heart..."

His smile deepened, but his eyes remained utterly devoid of warmth.

"Your Majesty, you must be cautious."

Tangxi remained silent for a long time.

Outside the palace, the moonlight was like water.

"Then—"

He finally spoke, his voice slow and deliberate:

"Let's see when he makes his move."

That voice contained a complete grasp of the situation, the composure and domineering presence of an emperor surveying the world.

There was also a slight trace of—

Even he himself was unwilling to admit his leniency towards the orphans of the founding fathers.

—There are some things he knows.

He had seen that portrait in a secret box in the late emperor's bedroom.

The woman in the painting has exquisite features. Dressed in a light blue robe, she stands under a cherry blossom tree, turning her head and smiling gently.

That smile held no alluring charm, only a pure and untainted elegance.

Spring snow in the South - flowers light and late.

That was Bei Chenji's biological mother.

He was also someone the late emperor sought but could not obtain.

Below the scroll is a line of small characters, written in the late emperor's own handwriting:

"There is no greater regret in my life than this."

The moment Tangxi closed the secret box at night, she suddenly understood many things.

The downfall of the Beichen Prince's Mansion was never due to betrayal.

It was because an emperor had a thought he shouldn't have had.

He wanted to take away his subject's wife.

They then exterminated his entire family.

Hua Qingwan protected the young Bei Chenji as they escaped from the encirclement, but ultimately froze to death in the vast snowstorm of the northern border.

The night she died, all the cherry blossoms in the Dreamy Flower City faded.

Flowers bloom lightly in the evening.

Mei Ruohuan.

The Nine Provinces once had two gems: Qingwan in the south and Ruohuan in the north.

Now, one lies buried in the snow, and the other is hidden from the world.

You should know that beauty alone can be a curse.

Tang Xiye gazed in the direction where Bei Chenji had disappeared, something slowly sinking into her eyes.

He hates.

He deserves to be hated.

If it were me, I'd probably have to slaughter my enemy's entire bloodline before I was satisfied.

"if only--"

Tang Xiye gazed at the cold moon, her voice so low it was almost a soliloquy:

"He doesn't rebel."

He paused for a moment.

"I will trust him."

They then gave him a way to live.

So he was allowed to remain in this capital city, like a blade that never leaves its sheath.