After being reborn, the aloof prime minister was once again forced by a tyrant.

The next day, just after dawn, while it was still pitch black, there was a knock on the gate of the inn.

Xie Qinglan put on a plain-colored, dark-patterned outer robe, got up and opened the door. Standing in the corridor was the chief eunuch Gao An, with four junior eunuchs behind him holding their hands and holding their breath. Each of them held a vermilion lacquered tray, on which were stacked brand-new plain brocade everyday clothes, several bottles of fragrant ointment, a Duan inkstone, and half a jar of Mengding tea buds, all of which were his usual items.

Upon seeing him emerge, Gao An quickly stepped aside, holding the bright yellow imperial edict and smiling obsequiously, "Prime Minister, there's no need for such formalities. His Majesty has issued an edict, so there's no need for empty formalities. This servant will now proclaim the decree."

He unfurled the imperial edict: "By the grace of Heaven, the Emperor decrees: The alliance between the Northern and Southern Mountains has been established, ensuring lasting harmony. Coinciding with the tenth anniversary of my reign and the centenary of the Northern Dynasty's establishment, the Southern Mountain delegation is hereby retained in the capital to observe the ceremony. After the ceremony, they will return to their homeland. This is the imperial decree."

After the announcement, Gao An presented the imperial edict with both hands and said, "The grand ceremony will be held in seven days. His Majesty said that the post station is too crowded and noisy, which may cause inconvenience to the Prime Minister. Therefore, he specially ordered me to prepare a quiet courtyard in the palace for the Prime Minister to stay temporarily, which will also facilitate his travel before and after the ceremony."

Xie Qinglan accepted the imperial edict. The silk cloth still carried the cold fragrance of ambergris from the man. Her expression remained unchanged, but she found it laughable in her heart.

Yesterday, he was coldly pressuring him with diplomatic rules, ordering him to return home within three days, but then he made up a pretext of a "double celebration" to keep him there.

In his previous life, he spent three years in the Northern Kingdom and had never heard of the custom of celebrating the centennial of a dynasty and the ascension of an emperor together. This lie was so clumsy that it practically revealed the words "I don't want to let you go."

He didn't expose it, but simply said calmly, "Your subject obeys the decree."

He turned around, quickly gathered his belongings, and then followed Gao An toward the palace.

The palace city had thousands of gates and households. Gao An led him westward, and the place became more and more secluded.

The vermilion palace walls, weathered by sun and rain, had long since faded to a dark ochre color, and the glazed tiles on the eaves were covered with a thin layer of dust, losing their luster. Soft, damp moss seeped into the cracks of the bluestone bricks underfoot, and the wind swirled fallen leaves through the long alleyway, without a single palace servant in sight.

After passing through two moon gates, a courtyard gate with green tiles appeared ahead. Gao An stopped and bowed, saying, "Prime Minister, we have arrived."

Xie Qinglan looked up and saw an old plaque hanging above the door, inscribed with the three characters "Tingxuexuan". The paint was peeling and mottled, and it looked like it hadn't been renovated for at least ten years.

Pushing open the door, the courtyard was brighter than I had expected. An old plum tree leaned against the corner, its branches gnarled and twisted; I imagined it would fill the courtyard with its cool fragrance when it bloomed in winter. There were three main halls and two side halls; the wooden windows were polished to a gleaming shine, and not a single weed grew on the steps, indicating meticulous cleaning. A potted asparagus fern sat on the windowsill, its sparse leaves thriving.

Gao An led him around the room, then instructed the eunuch to put the items on the tray back into the inner chamber before bowing his head and saying, "Prime Minister, please rest. His Majesty has decreed that you are free to move about in the palace and need not be bound by palace etiquette. If you need anything, just tell the palace servants on duty outside."

Freedom of movement.

Xie Qinglan lightly tapped the pillar with her fingertip, savoring the four characters with a slightly unusual flavor.

In his previous life, he was detained in Beishuo. Xiao Jingyuan imprisoned him in Lanyue Pavilion, the palace closest to the Imperial Study. It was named after the phrase "reaching out to grasp the moon." There were guards every three steps and sentries every five steps. He was not allowed to step out of the courtyard gate. Xiao Jingyuan wished he could tie him to his body so that he could see him as soon as he opened his eyes.

In this life, things are different. First, they gave him the freedom to move around the palace, and then they threw him into this remote and secluded courtyard, which is at least half an hour's walk from the imperial study. People would believe it if they thought it was the cold palace.

It's unclear whether this person has genuinely changed their ways or is harboring other intentions.

He responded casually, "I know."

After Gao An paid his respects, he quietly withdrew with his palace servants. The courtyard gate creaked shut, and only the soft sound of the wind rustling through the plum branches filled the courtyard.

Xie Qinglan stood under the corridor, his gaze sweeping over the gnarled branches of the old plum tree, and he raised his hand to touch the jade pendant at his waist.

Seven days. He only has seven days.

He has to stay.

Since Xiao Jingyuan went to such lengths to come up with such a lame excuse to detain someone, he couldn't possibly refuse to see them at all.

For the next three days, Xie Qinglan did not step out of Tingxuexuan.

He sat by the window reading and practicing calligraphy, grinding a stick of pine soot ink again and again until it became so thick that he didn't even notice. He appeared calm and collected, but in reality, half of his mind was always on the courtyard gate.

Just wait for that person to do what they did countless times in their past lives: either kick the door open or sneak in through the window, they'll make some noise.

From the first light of dawn until dusk, from the moon rising above the willows until the night deepens and the dew grows heavy, the courtyard remains quiet, without even a single extra footstep.

Xiao Jingyuan did not come.

No one came, but items were being sent to Tingxuexuan like a flowing stream.

Breakfast consisted of crab roe soup dumplings with green rice porridge, a specialty of Nanyue. Lunch was different each time, sometimes it was roasted venison tenderloin with milk shortbread from Beishuo, and sometimes it was finely prepared squirrel-shaped mandarin fish. Even the pickled bamboo shoots served with the meal were the same flavors he had preferred in Beishuo in his previous life.

The hall was filled with his usual agarwood incense, and fine Mengding nectar was being brewed on the table; everything was arranged meticulously and thoughtfully.

People avoid you and refuse to meet, yet they remember all your preferences perfectly and eagerly come to you.

Xie Qinglan traced the patterns on the jade pendant with her fingertips, her brows furrowing almost imperceptibly.

He pondered for a long time, but still couldn't figure out what Xiao Jingyuan was up to with his stubborn nature. In his past life, this man was as obsessive as a mad dog; if he wanted something, he would just snatch it directly. He had never been so secretive and evasive before.

Could it be that she's afraid of being scolded and driven away by him to his face? But in her past life, even after being chased away by him with cold words countless times, that person still shamelessly stayed and refused to leave.

He believed he had always been indulgent towards Xiao Jingyuan. In both his lives, the harshest words he had ever spoken were those he had gritted his teeth and uttered after that night: "I hate you."

He stared out the window, lost in thought, his mind suddenly drifting back to the moment he woke up that night.

That night, he was suddenly struck on acupoints, and in his hazy state of consciousness, he could only smell the strong scent of ambergris, which caused his mind to collapse.

When I opened my eyes again, it was already broad daylight.

The sheets under my body had been changed, and my undergarments had been replaced with clean plain silk, but my whole body ached, as if I had been taken apart and put back together.

Xie Qinglan kept her eyes open, her gaze fixed on the cloud-patterned embroidery on the top of the tent, her eyes vacant.

He is Xie Qinglan.

He was the Prime Minister of Nanyue, a talented scholar whose fame spread throughout the land from the moment he was young, and a strategist whose plans were flawless. The world's affairs and the conflicts between the court and the people were always under his control; there was nothing he couldn't resolve, and no situation he couldn't figure out.

But that night, he was pinned down on the bed by that man, unable to move, like an object to be manipulated.

More than a decade of admiration cracked at that moment, shattering unexpectedly.

The pressure points had already been released. He gritted his teeth, propped himself up on the cold edge of the bed, and his legs felt weak. His bare feet touched the blue bricks, and a chill shot up from the soles of his feet, causing his vision to go black and him to fall straight forward.

A muffled thud.

His knees slammed heavily onto the cold floor tiles, his clothes came undone, revealing the winding purplish-blue marks on his collarbone, like branding marks of humiliation, a shocking sight.

He braced himself against the ground, his knuckles clenched so tightly they turned white, his fingernails almost digging into the cracks in the bricks. His shoulders and back were taut, trembling uncontrollably.

It doesn't hurt.

It is humiliation.

Twenty-six years of pride, twenty-six years of integrity, twenty-six years of painstakingly cultivated dignity and respectability—all shattered completely in that man's whimsical palm, leaving not even a trace.