My father ordered me to kill the emperor, but His Majesty bestowed a princess upon me instead.

On the day I arrived in Beijing, A-Liu asked me a very crucial question.

He said, "Young Master, when shall we make our move?"

I looked at the ridiculously tall city gate in the distance, then at the two squads of soldiers with gleaming swords at their waists, thought for a moment, and replied, "If you're tired of living, you can shout right now."

Ah Liu immediately shut up.

He sat at the front of the donkey cart, holding half a cold pancake in his arms, his face even paler than the pancake.

I'm not much better than him.

Because I am not here to take an exam, not here to visit relatives, and not here to do business.

I'm here to kill the emperor.

This sounds absurd, but my dad said it very seriously.

Three days ago, in the central command tent of the Southwest Camp.

Only one lamp was lit in the tent. My father, Shen Lie, sat in the main seat, with three items placed in front of him.

A letter of recommendation.

A bronze plaque.

A short blade.

The book recommendation is fake.

The bronze plate is for the connector.

The short blade is real; the edge is so thin you can see a person's face reflected in it.

My father shoved the short blade in front of me and said, "Go to the capital."

I had a bad feeling about this.

My dad is a man who rarely talks nonsense. If he says "eat," then it's time to eat. If he says "kill," then someone has probably already died on the way.

So when he said "going to Beijing," I knew it was definitely not going to be good.

I tentatively asked, "Father, what brings us to the capital?"

My dad looked up at me.

Those eyes weren't fierce or angry, just deep and unfathomable. Like a deep pool in the mountains in winter, the surface is still, but who knows what lies frozen beneath.

He said, "Close to the emperor."

My heart sank another inch.

My dad continued, "We'll find an opportunity within three months."

He didn't say the last two words.

But everyone in the tent knew what he was talking about.

Find an opportunity to kill the emperor.

Looking at the short blade on the table, I really wanted to ask: Father, do you have some misunderstanding about your son?

I am twenty years old this year. When I was a child, I trained with a military instructor for a few years with short blades. I know where to stab someone to kill them quickly, and I also know where to cover your wound to prolong your life.

But knowing is one thing, and being able to do it is another.

With my limited skills, in the Southwest Camp, I could at most defeat two drunk cooks. If I encountered a seasoned killer like Xu Sandao, he wouldn't even need to draw his sword; he could kick me into my next life with a single step.

Now my father wants me to take a short blade and go to the capital to kill the emperor.

The emperor was surrounded by imperial guards, inner guards, eunuchs, personal guards, a full court of civil and military officials, and an entire palace with countless layers of gates.

I have a fake letter of recommendation, a servant who can't do martial arts but has a huge appetite, and my father's inexplicable trust in me.

This doesn't seem like a good match at all.

I carefully considered my words before speaking: "Father, the emperor has at least several hundred imperial guards around him. I'm afraid I won't even be able to see him."

My father looked at me and said calmly, "That's why I sent you, not Xu Sandao."

Xu Sandao, who was standing next to him, raised his eyelids slightly.

I understood immediately.

A man like Xu Sandao would be spotted by the Imperial Guards on his very first day in the capital, and by the third day he would probably be hung on the city gate tower as a warning to the public.

But I'm different.

I have a face that looks harmless.

My mother used to say that my face was perfect for collecting debts at the accounting office. When the creditor saw me, he would first pour me tea, and then listen to me calculate the debts until he wanted to cry.

My dad thinks so too.

He said, "You've been with me since you were little, learning to read accounts, observe people, and analyze situations. Others can't get close to the emperor even with a knife, but you can."

"What do I rely on?" I asked.

"It depends on whether it's useful."

I didn't say anything.

That sounds like a compliment, but it actually means I'm someone who's easy to take advantage of.

My father stood up, walked over to me, and straightened my collar.

This action was so rare that I almost thought he had a change of heart and was about to retract his decision.

He simply whispered, "Shen An, three months."

I looked up at him.

He added, "If you fail to accomplish this within three months, I will personally go to the capital."

The wind inside the tent suddenly turned cool.

If my father went to the capital in person, then it wouldn't be an assassination attempt.

That's called a mutiny.

So I didn't ask any more questions.

I simply looked down at the short blade on the table and slowly replied, "Yes."

So three days later, I arrived in the capital.

The capital city is bigger than I imagined.

The city walls were high, and the city gates were wide. The two large gilded characters "Kyoto" on the gate tower gleamed in the sun. Long queues formed at the foot of the city gates, with people carrying loads on their shoulders, pushing carts, scholars on their way to take the imperial examinations, and women leading their children into the city to visit relatives.

Everyone seemed to be there just to get by.

I'm the only one here to die.

Ah Liu, driving his donkey cart, stood in the queue, munching on a cold pancake as he whispered, "Young master, I'm starting to regret it."

"Regret what?"

"I regret not eating enough for breakfast." He rubbed his stomach. "What if I died today? Wouldn't I have missed out?"

I glanced at him.

"Don't worry, I won't die today."

Ah Liu's eyes lit up: "Really?"

"We just arrived in the capital today; the formalities haven't even begun yet."

Ah Liu choked for a moment.

When it was our turn to enter the city, the guards looked at my travel permit and then at my face. They probably thought I didn't look like a dangerous person at all, so they knocked on the carriage floor and said, "Go in."

The donkey cart passed through the city gate.

It was cool inside the city gate, and shadows pressed down from above. I glanced up instinctively; the soldiers on either side stood ramrod straight, the hilts of their swords gleaming from their hands.

I quickly looked away.

You shouldn't have watched it.

I'm not here to scout out the location today, nor am I here to take action.

On the first day, there is only one most important thing.

Low-key.

My father arranged for me to be the descendant of a deceased vice minister of the Ministry of Revenue. The recommendation letter was obtained through old connections, a mix of truth and falsehood, enough to get me onto this year's list of candidates for official positions.

A candidate official is, frankly speaking, a low-ranking official waiting for the court to assign him duties based on its mood. Tomorrow's audience with the emperor is nothing more than a formality.

Thirty-odd candidates entered the hall together, knelt down, kowtowed, announced their names, the emperor nodded, and that was the end of it.

In any case, no one should pay attention to me.

I just need to stand quietly at the back of the line, not look up, not talk, and not stand out. I'll just get by for now.

We settled down at a herbal medicine shop on a side street in the south of the city.

The shop was called Chen's, with a small storefront and a strong smell of medicine. The shopkeeper, surnamed Chen, was in his forties, with a thin, long face, and a smile like that of an ordinary businessman.

But when I handed him the bronze medal, his expression changed.

Manager Chen led us into the backyard, closed the door, and then whispered, "Young Master."

I don't like this title.

In the southwest, this name is quite reasonable.

In Beijing, those two words sound like a death knell.

I said, "Call me Young Master Shen."

Manager Chen immediately changed his tune: "Young Master Shen, you've come at the perfect time. The list of candidates for official positions was finalized three days ago. Your name is number twenty-third, and you will be entering the palace for an audience at dawn tomorrow."

"So fast?"

"The recommendation letter was submitted to the Ministry of Personnel half a month ago."

I paused for a moment while holding the teacup.

Two weeks ago.

At that time, I was still in the Southwest Camp, fighting with Ah Liu for the last piece of baked flatbread.

In other words, my father had already paved the way for me before he even told me I was going to Beijing.

I suddenly realized that the tea in my mouth tasted a little bitter.

Manager Chen continued, "Tomorrow's audience is just a routine one; His Majesty may not scrutinize it closely. You only need to perform the proper courtesies and say nothing more."

He spoke very steadily.

I could hear it very steadily.

Because this suits me perfectly.

On the first day, don't stand out.

Ah Liu carried his luggage into the house, first taking out the dry food, then the clothes, and finally pulling out the short blade from under the bundle. He was so startled that his hand trembled and he almost dropped the knife.

I reached out and caught it.

The hilt of the knife was wrapped in black cloth, which my father had wrapped by hand. The cloth was worn from being worn by his palms, and it felt strangely cold to the touch.

Ah Liu stared at the knife and asked in a low voice, "Young Master, should we bring this tomorrow?"

"What are you bringing? You think you can't find anything at the palace gates?"

"If we don't bring them, how can we kill them?"

I looked at him.

Ah Liu shrank back: "I was just asking."

I put the short blade back into the bottom of my bag.

"I won't kill anyone tomorrow."

"Then what?"

"kowtow."

Ah Liu thought about it seriously: "I know how to do this."

"Even if you know how, it's useless; you can't get in."

He seemed a little disappointed.

After dark, Manager Chen delivered a set of court etiquette documents for entering the palace.

The two thin pages of paper instructed on where to stand upon entering the hall, how to proceed after hearing one's name called, how to place one's hands when kneeling, how many times to kowtow, and how to answer the emperor's questions.

I watched it three times.

Ah Liu watched along, and yawned halfway through.

"Young Master, there are too many rules."

"That's still not enough."

"What if you kneel in the wrong place?"

"At best you'll get scolded, at worst you'll lose your job."

Ah Liu immediately sat up straight: "Then watch it two more times."

I read those two pages twice more.

Actually, I'm not afraid of etiquette.

What I fear is people.

My father said that Xiao Jingheng was a tyrannical ruler.

How could a foolish emperor sit on the throne for eleven years and allow the court to survive until today?

I do not believe.

If the emperor were really so easy to kill, my father would have gone to the capital long ago.

Since he sent me here, it means that this emperor is not easy to kill.

As night deepened, Ah Liu fell asleep quickly.

He has a problem when he sleeps; he talks in his sleep.

Tonight he said, "Two more sesame seed cakes, please."

I lay on the hard bed, listening to the drumbeats outside the window, one after another.

Enter the palace at Chenshi (7-9 AM) tomorrow.

The 23rd alternate.

Bow your head, kneel down, kowtow, express your gratitude, and withdraw.

Don't stand out.

Don't say too much.

Don't look around.

First, survive the first day.

Just as I was thinking this, I suddenly heard three soft knocks outside the window.

Knock, knock, knock.

I opened my eyes.

Ah Liu was still asleep, mumbling "Sesame is delicious" through his mouth.

I got up and walked to the window, pushing it open a crack.

A man dressed as a pharmacy clerk stood outside the window, head bowed, handing in a small piece of bamboo tube without saying a word, then turned and left.

I closed the window and turned on the bamboo tube.

Inside was a very thin strip of paper.

It's my father's handwriting.

There are only eight characters.

Tomorrow, when entering the palace, remember the route.

I looked at those eight characters and suddenly smiled.

My dad really thinks highly of me.

I might not even dare to look at what the emperor looks like tomorrow; he's already got his sights set on the route to the palace.

I placed the paper over the candle flame and watched it slowly curl up, turn black, and then turn to ash.

Then I lay back down on the bed.

Ah Liu rolled over and muttered softly, "Young Master, have you made your move yet?"

I closed my eyes.

"no."

At least not tomorrow.

Tomorrow is just a formality.

That's what Manager Chen said.

The Ministry of Personnel's roster is also arranged in this way.

Among the thirty-odd candidates for official positions, I was the twenty-third. Who would pay attention to a nobody like me?

I repeated that sentence to myself three times.

Never stand out.

Don't cause trouble.

Whatever you do, don't let the emperor see me.

As long as I can finish kneeling and kowtowing safely tomorrow and then withdraw, I can slowly figure out a solution.

What is the thing that people fear most in their lives?

What I fear most is that you've already ingrained the phrase "don't stand out" into your very bones, but the next day someone still insists on dragging you before the entire court of officials.

And that person happens to be the one I'm here to kill.

Emperor Xiao Jingheng of the Great Liang Dynasty.