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

(Kids, I'm sorry, but to save my perfect attendance record, I added a 4000-word short story, "Qinglan's Notes: About That Silly Dog," at the end of the previous chapter. Those of you who are interested in Qinglan's past life perspective can take a look. Love you all!)

When the military report arrived at Tingxuexuan, it was the most languid afternoon of late spring.

As late spring draws to a close, the crabapple blossoms in the courtyard have all fallen, leaving only lush green leaves on the branches, which rustle softly in the wind.

Xie Qinglan was sitting on the veranda, flipping through a military book. Beside him was a cup of cold tea, with half a curled locust leaf floating on the surface of the tea, swirling in the wind. He lowered his eyelashes, completely unaware of it.

Gao An jogged in, his footsteps a little more disordered than usual, holding an urgent military report sealed with a red lacquer stamp in his hands, a layer of fine sweat beading on his forehead.

"Thank you, sir. This is an urgent message from the Western Rong, delivered over 800 li."

Xie Qinglan's fingers, which were turning the pages, suddenly paused. She had a bad feeling about it for a while before she finally picked up the book.

The sealing wax was hastily and carelessly applied, the edges were rough and mottled, and the seal was Xiao Zhaoyue's private seal, with even the corners pressed unevenly.

He crushed the wax seal with his fingertips and opened the letter. The Xuan paper rustled softly, and the panic between the lines spread out along the ink stains. The victory report that Xiao Zhaoyue wrote last time was written with decisive and vigorous strokes, but this time the strokes were crooked and the ink stains were a mess.

As soon as the words were written, the wind in the corridor suddenly stopped.

"The Northern Barbarians launched a surprise attack, and His Majesty was ambushed at Broken Eagle Gorge. He fell off a cliff and his fate is unknown. To stabilize the morale of the army, news of the attack has been temporarily suppressed. Qi Yu was dispatched with three thousand men to search the gorge day and night, but so far, he has not been found."

He stood there staring at those few lines for a long time.

Gao An stood to the side, watching helplessly as the color drained from Xie Qinglan's face inch by inch—not a sudden deathly pale, but a cold white that slowly seeped from her bones, like a thin layer of frost, even her lips lost their color.

His knuckles, gripping the letter, slowly turned blue. His fingertips repeatedly rubbed the words "life or death unknown," his grip so heavy it almost crushed the paper in his palm.

Prepare writing materials.

His voice was steady when he spoke, without the slightest hint of emotion. As he rose, the hem of his robe swept across the blue bricks of the corridor, his steps were even and clean, and even his other hand hanging at his side was neatly tucked in, as if the momentary stiffness just now was merely an illusion created by the swaying of the wind and the shadows of the trees.

Upon entering the inner hall, the wolf-hair brush, fully soaked in ink, made its first stroke on the Xuan paper. The ink suddenly spread into a round blot, like a drop of blood falling on the snow.

With his eyes lowered, he wrote with heavy strokes, the characters penetrating the paper: "Dispatch another two thousand infantrymen and three hundred scouts, and immediately rush to Broken Eagle Gorge. Search the entire area along the downstream of the underground river for a hundred miles, leaving no place unsearched, from the crevices in the rocks at the bottom of the gorge to the dense forests and deep valleys."

The pen paused for a long time, then added heavily: "I want to see him alive or dead."

He kept this matter to himself, not even letting Gao An utter a word about it.

But in just three days, the news spread like wildfire throughout the court and the country.

Prince Rui, Xiao Jingchen, feigned illness and avoided court. The atmosphere in the court grew heavier day by day, like a piece of cotton soaked in water, making it hard to breathe.

The courtiers began to whisper among themselves. At first, they only talked quietly in the flower halls of their private residences, but later, whispered rumors drifted everywhere on the palace roads and in the corridors.

"What kind of place is Broken Eagle Gorge? It's a bottomless abyss, with jagged rocks and hidden rivers at the bottom. If someone falls in, how could they possibly survive with a whole body intact?"

"It's been over ten days, and the search party has changed three times, but they haven't even found a scrap of clothing. They've probably already been fed to the jackals below the cliff."

"Now that His Majesty has passed away, shouldn't a new emperor be appointed?"

……

These whispers traveled on the wind to the Shadow Guards' ears and were relayed back to Tingxuexuan word for word.

Xie Qinglan sat behind his desk listening to the report, his fingertips pressing on a military book, the pages creased deeply by his knuckles.

Those words were like fine, dense needles, pricking my heart again and again, causing a dull ache. Even my breath was tinged with an unyielding bitterness, sinking into my lungs through my trachea, chilling me to the bone.

"Night Seven." He looked up, his eyes covered with an unyielding layer of ice, even his voice was icy and crisp. "Investigate. From which source did the information leak out, and who was behind it all? Don't let a single one get away with it."

The next morning at court, things got serious in the Golden Palace.

Xie Qinglan stood beside the steps of the palace and merely raised his hand. The imperial guards filed in and immediately arrested two officials who had been spreading rumors and making false claims that "His Majesty has died and a new emperor should be established."

The two were forced to the gold-brick floor, their necks stiff as they cried out for justice. Their cries crashed against the vermilion pillars of the palace, shattering into pieces.

Xie Qinglan didn't even glance at them; her gaze slowly swept over the civil and military officials on the steps.

"Before His Majesty returns to the capital," he began, his voice not loud, but clear and sharp, striking everyone's ears with the chill of a frost-quenched knife, "anyone who dares to speak ill of the Emperor or undermine the people's morale will be punished for treason."

The entire hall was completely silent. No one dared to look up and meet his gaze; they even instinctively held their breath.

He could command respect from all the officials at court, but he couldn't suppress the turmoil churning within his heart.

The Listening Snow Pavilion is always exceptionally quiet at night, so quiet that you can hear the soft crackling of candle flames popping.

Xie Qinglan often sat in silence until the early hours of the morning, with neatly folded search and rescue reports spread out on his desk. Without exception, the covers of each report stated "No trace found" or "No belongings discovered."

He ran his fingertips along the rough edges of the letter, turning it over and over as if he could glean the person's whereabouts from between the lines if he looked at it several times.

Sometimes, when he hears footsteps outside the courtyard, he will suddenly look up, his knuckles clenching tightly until he hears the clanging of the armor plates of the night patrol soldiers gradually fading into the distance, before slowly loosening his grip, his palms already soaked with a thin layer of sweat.

The candlelight flickered, its orange glow casting a reddish hue in his eyes, but he remained oblivious, gazing absently at the deep night sky in the west through the half-open window.

Is the sky in the Western Rong as dark and gloomy as that of the capital? Where is he now? Is he awake, or...?

He dared not think any further.

Countless times, his fingertips brushed against the scabbard of the Guilan sword at his waist, wanting to throw down the stack of memorials on his desk, mount his horse, and head west straight for Duanyingjian.

Go find him.

This thought was like an inextinguishable wildfire, burning in his chest for ten days and ten nights, making him restless and unable to eat or sleep. A thin layer of dry, painful skin appeared on his lips, and blood would seep out if he pulled it even slightly.

Unable to sleep at night, he would stand on the veranda, gazing westward until dawn.

A voice inside me kept pounding in my chest: Go, go find him, he must not be dead.

The wind, carrying the night dew, lashed my face, chilling me to the bone, barely managing to suppress the surging impulse.

You can't go yet.

The court was in turmoil, with a pair of eyes hidden in the shadows staring intently at the dragon throne, waiting for him to leave and for chaos to break out in the capital so they could seize the opportunity to overthrow the Northern Shuo regime.

This is the empire that Xiao Jingyuan built with his own hands, the Northern Shuo that he risked his life to protect. He's guarding it for him, so it can't be allowed to fall into disarray.

He could only wait.

Waiting for news, waiting for a return date.

Wait for the ghost hiding in the shadows to reveal itself.

Another half month passed.

With the arrival of summer, even the wind carries a hint of dryness.

Military reports from the western border were sent to the capital one after another, the vermilion ink and ink carrying the dust and sand of the frontier, and every word was a report of victory.

The Northern Di, unable to take advantage of the chaos, were instead routed by Xiao Zhaoyue's army, leaving behind thousands of corpses as they slunk back to the northern grasslands.

Seeing that the situation was hopeless, the 50,000 reinforcements from Nanyue broke camp and retreated south overnight, hiding behind the Cangwu Ridge pass and daring not to show themselves again.

Wanyan Hao led his remaining troops to flee to the northern desert, but was pursued by Xiao Zhaoyue's light cavalry for eight hundred miles, where they were bound hand and foot and brought back to the royal court. Wanyan Duo, on the other hand, was pragmatic and submitted a letter of surrender early on, kneeling before the royal tent and offering his sword with both hands.

The entire territory of the Western Rong was pacified.

But Xiao Jingyuan was still nowhere to be found.

The search and rescue operation at Broken Eagle Gorge has lasted for more than a month. Five thousand people have turned the area within a radius of three hundred miles upside down, scooped up more than a hundred miles of the underground river downstream, and sifted through the stones in the riverbed three times, but they haven't even found a single bloodstained piece of armor.

The palace had already reached a private decision, but no one dared to utter a single word to Xie Qinglan.

Everyone knew that this usually aloof and self-possessed Prime Minister Xie had dealt with everyone who dared to mention "His Majesty has passed away." Some were dismissed from their posts, others were imprisoned, showing no mercy whatsoever.

But everyone knew perfectly well what was going on. The Broken Eagle Gorge was bottomless, with jagged rocks at the bottom and a turbulent underground river. If someone fell in, there was no chance of survival.

It's just self-deception.

The silence in the imperial court was finally broken.

That morning at court, Censor-in-Chief Sun Zhengqing was the first to step forward from the crowd.

He held the ivory tablet upright, his voice booming as it struck the ceiling of the palace, producing a resounding hum.

"Colleagues! His Majesty personally led the expedition, but the Western Rong are in peril, and more than two months have passed with no news of them! A country cannot be without a ruler for even a day. I earnestly request the Prime Minister to establish a new emperor as soon as possible to secure the nation and stabilize the hearts of the people!"

The entire hall erupted in uproar.

Xiao Jingchen was absent again today, claiming illness. Xie Qinglan stood beside the steps, her eyes lowered, her long eyelashes concealing the emotions in her eyes, and remained silent.

Seeing that he remained silent, Sun Zhengqing grew bolder, took another step forward, and raised his voice even higher: "Prime Minister Xie! I know that you and His Majesty have a deep bond, but the fate of the nation is paramount! If His Majesty were alive, he would not wish to see the Northern Shuo court in turmoil and the people in fear! His Highness Prince Rui is a direct descendant of the imperial family, and his virtuous reputation is widespread, so it is fitting that—"

"Imperial Censor Sun".

Xie Qinglan suddenly looked up.

Those eyes were as cold as if they were made of ice a hundred feet high, staring straight at Sun Zhengqing, freezing the rest of his words stuck in his throat, as if an invisible hand was gripping his neck, making it hard for him to even out his breath.

"His Majesty has only suffered minor injuries and is recuperating in the army. He will return soon."

His tone was calm, as if he were talking about something utterly mundane, yet every word carried the weight of a thousand pounds, crashing onto the gold-brick floor: "What do you mean by stirring up trouble in the imperial palace to install a new emperor?"

Sun Zhengqing's back instantly broke out in a cold sweat, soaking through his official robes. But with the situation at hand, there was no turning back; he could only steel himself and say:

"Minister Xie! The court and the public are all aware of His Majesty's perilous situation. If it were merely a minor injury, why has he not shown his face for two months? Are you suppressing the news and concealing the truth for the sake of Beishuo, or for your own selfish gain?"

A buzzing sound came from inside the hall, and a wave of discussion washed over it, buzzing and humming.

Xie Qinglan slowly descended the steps. He stopped in front of Sun Zhengqing, looking down at him with a gaze as cold as ice blades, making one's skin sting.

"Should I suppress the news?"

His voice was soft, yet it carried a chilling coldness that seeped into the very bones. "The western border has just been pacified, and the enemy has not yet been eliminated. If the Southern Yue and Northern Di tribes find out that His Majesty is temporarily away from the army, what do you think they will do? Take advantage of the situation and launch another attack. In that case, the people on the border will be destroyed and their families will be wiped out. Will you be held responsible for that?"

He paused, his gaze slowly sweeping over the civil and military officials in the hall, and said each word with conviction: "This is a matter of military importance. If anyone dares to spread rumors or make false statements, I will not let them off lightly."

"Thank you, Prime Minister Xie—"

"Imperial Censor Sun," Xie Qinglan interrupted him, lightly tapping the ceremonial tablet in his hand with her fingertips—a very light touch, yet it made Sun Zhengqing tremble. "I'll ask you one more question. Today, when you led the petition to establish a new emperor, was that your own idea, or was someone behind you instructing you to say it?"

Sun Zhengqing's face changed drastically, turning white then green, then green then white again. He opened his mouth, but couldn't utter a single word for a long time.

The court assembly ended in discord. The idea of ​​establishing a new emperor was abruptly suppressed, and Sun Zhengqing was immediately stripped of his official hat and suspended from duty pending investigation. All the officials fell silent, and no one dared to utter a single word about "His Majesty's passing" openly.

But the underwater currents surged even faster.

Memorials were being sent to the cabinet like snowflakes, all openly and secretly urging them to "establish a new leader as soon as possible," just waiting for someone to take the lead and stir up another storm.