Joy of Life: Me, the Second Prince? Summon Yuan Tiangang!

The Northern Qi Dynasty went to the capital.

The streets of the capital city are wide, but unlike the capital of Southern Qing, which exudes an inner and outer prosperity and restlessness, the city has a calm, even somewhat oppressive, solemn atmosphere.

On the second floor of an unremarkable restaurant, a strange man sat by the window.

He wore a cold, menacing iron mask and a large, dark cloak, making him seem completely out of place amidst the bustling crowd around him.

There was a pot of sake and a dish of fennel beans on the table, but he never touched his chopsticks.

At this moment, a man dressed in ordinary Northern Qi clothing walked upstairs with his head down. He passed by the strange man's table seemingly unintentionally, flicked his finger, and a small scroll of paper sealed with wax silently fell into the strange man's sleeve.

The man didn't linger; he went straight downstairs and disappeared into the crowd.

The masked person slowly extended a withered, tree-branch-like hand; with a slight twitch of the fingertips, the wax seal shattered.

The note contained only a few words, written in a bold and unrestrained style, conveying a sense of untamed spirit and determination.

"Great Snow Dragon Rider, you can move around now."

As Yuan Tiangang looked at the words, a strange glint flashed in his deep, unfathomable eyes.

"Your Highness, you finally couldn't wait any longer." Yuan Tiangang's voice was hoarse, like two rusty iron pieces rubbing against each other, sounding particularly sinister next to the empty table.

He stood up, casually tossed down a piece of silver, and didn't even glance back at the untouched wine pot.

As he walked out of the restaurant, fine snowflakes suddenly began to fall from the sky over the capital.

Yuan Tiangang did not ride a horse; he simply walked north step by step.

His steps seemed slow, but if someone observed carefully, they would find that his figure flickered in the snow, and each step covered several meters.

…………

A hundred miles outside of the capital of Nanqing, in a nameless deep mountain.

Here, the forest is lush and verdant, birdsong fills the air, and a simple wooden cabin stands quietly beside the stream.

This is a highly secretive outpost of the Detective Agency, and also Fan Xian's current hiding place.

The room was dimly lit, and the air was filled with a strong smell of herbs and a faint stench of blood.

Fan Xian leaned against the headboard, his face so pale it was almost transparent, like a piece of paper that could be torn by the wind at any moment.

His chest, shoulders, and thighs were wrapped in thick bandages, and traces of blood could be faintly seen seeping out.

"Squeak—"

The wooden door was pushed open.

A man dressed in black and blindfolded walked in. His movements were completely silent, as if he himself were a tree or a stone in the forest.

Wuzhu.

He carried a heavy, long, narrow black box on his back.

The box was made of neither gold nor stone, and it emitted a chilling, eerie light in the dimly lit room.

Fan Xian's previously unfocused eyes suddenly lit up the moment he saw the box.

"Uncle Wuzhu..." Fan Xian's voice was a little hoarse. He struggled to sit up, but the movement aggravated the wound on his chest, causing him to gasp in pain.

Wu Zhu walked to the bedside, stiffly but steadily untied the black box, and placed it next to Fan Xian's pillow.

"What you want." Wu Zhu's voice remained devoid of any emotion.

Ignoring the pain, Fan Xian reached out his trembling hand and gently stroked the cold surface of the box.

The texture was strange, carrying an industrial feel that transcended this era.

"This is... what my mother left me?" Fan Xian murmured to himself, his eyes full of curiosity.

His fingers were on the box. They quickly found the unique keyhole.

Fan Xian looked up at Wu Zhu with anticipation and stretched out his hand: "Uncle Wu Zhu, give me the key, I want to open it and take a look."

Wu Zhu remained silent for a moment before uttering three words: "I don't know."

Fan Xian froze, his hand hanging in mid-air: "Don't know? What do you mean you don't know?"

"The key isn't here," Wu Zhu replied.

Fan Xian took a deep breath, suppressing his anxiety, and changed his question: "Uncle Wu Zhu, do you know where the key is? Or... what exactly is inside this?"

Wu Zhu tilted his head slightly, as if searching for fragmented memories in his mind, and finally replied in that infuriating tone, "I don't know."

The two "I don't know" answers were like a bucket of ice water, poured over Fan Xian's newly ignited flame of hope.

He slumped back against the headboard, staring at the black box so close yet impossible to open, and said with a wry smile, "Uncle Wuzhu, your memory... it just keeps slipping up at the worst possible time. Without the key, this thing is just a piece of scrap metal. I can't exactly use it to smash Li Chengze and the Princess's heads, can I?"

Wu Zhu sat on a small stool, head down, seemingly deep in thought.

"The key should be in a very safe place," Wu Zhu suddenly said.

"Nonsense, I know it's a safe place." Fan Xian rolled his eyes.

He began frantically reviewing the events in his mind.

Chen Pingping? If Chen Pingping had the key, he would have given it to himself long ago.

Fei Jie? The teacher only knows how to use poison; he probably wouldn't be able to handle this kind of weapon properly.

Fan Jian?

Father might know something, but given his personality, if he really had the key, he would probably think it was too dangerous and would rather let it rot in the ground.

Fan Jian?

Father might know something, but given his personality, if he really had the key, he would probably think it was too dangerous and would rather let it rot in the ground.

Fan Xian analyzed for a long time, his head throbbing with pain, but he still had no clue.

Wu Zhu had no concept of these complex political logics and human relationships. His memory was like a smashed hard drive, only occasionally flashing a few blurry images.

"Forget it, I don't want to think about it anymore." Fan Xian sighed, his expression becoming serious. "Uncle Wuzhu, tell me, what's been happening in Kyoto these past few days? I'm practically turning into mold here in the mountains."

…………

Although Wu Zhu is not good with words, his stealth ability is unparalleled, and nothing in the capital city can escape his ears.

"The eldest prince is not dead," Wu Zhu stated calmly. "His Majesty has arranged a marriage between the eldest princess of Northern Qi and the prince. The Imperial Censorate is investigating the assassination attempt, but there are no results yet."

Fan Xian sneered: "No results? If Chen Pingping wanted to investigate, there's no case in the world he couldn't solve. No results can only mean the results are too terrifying, or... that His Majesty doesn't want him to find out the results."

He closed his eyes, and a huge chessboard appeared in his mind.

"The assassination attempt on the Crown Prince is a good thing." Fan Xian opened his eyes, his gaze revealing a wisdom far beyond his years. "Assassinating a prince is challenging His Majesty's bottom line and forcing everyone to take sides."

He began to sort out the relationships between enemies and friends in his mind.

"Li Chengze..." Fan Xian's teeth clenched as he uttered the name. "This Second Prince is the most dangerous and unpredictable; he must be a mortal enemy."

"Princess Li Yunrui," Fan Xian's eyes turned cold, "is also a mortal enemy."

"As for the Crown Prince..." Fan Xian scoffed, "That heir apparent is good at maintaining the status quo but lacks ambition. He's not worthy to be my opponent, but I still have to be wary of him stabbing me in the back."

"Where is His Majesty?" Fan Xian remained silent for a long time.