Liu Bian at the start, so you're called Dong Zhuo, right?

He put down his pen and handed the paper to Xun Yu:

"Will this work?"

Xun Yu took it, read it, raised his head, looked at him, and there was something very faint in his eyes—not relief, but a deeper kind of recognition.

"Okay, but not enough."

"However, let's take this step firmly first before moving on to the next."

Xun Yu handed the memorial to Wang Ming, who accepted it with both hands and left the hall.

-

Zhangde Hall.

Emperor Ling of Han leaned back on his couch, holding the memorial in his hand, and read it through from beginning to end.

The hall was quiet. Zhang Rang stood to one side, his eyes lowered, not daring to breathe.

After Emperor Ling of Han finished reading the memorial, he put it down, leaned against the armchair, closed his eyes, and remained silent for a long time.

"He's figured it out," he suddenly said, his voice flat, revealing neither joy nor anger.

Zhang Rang didn't dare to reply, and just lowered his head.

Emperor Ling of Han opened his eyes and looked at the crossbeams on the roof of the palace. His expression was still as nonchalant as ever, but something in his eyes stirred.

"This child..." he murmured, without continuing.

He remembered what Liu Bian looked like when he was a child. Back then, the child had just returned to the palace, a small, thin boy standing in the center of the hall, but his eyes shone with an astonishing brightness. He asked him if he was afraid, and he said he wasn't.

As the child grew up, he became more and more capable, so capable that the man had to be on guard.

But what is he defending against?

Is the child too capable, or is he too afraid?

Emperor Ling of Han pondered the thought for a moment, but did not pursue it further.

He picked up the memorial, read it again, and then handed it back to Zhang Rang:

"Archive".

"Also, give the order that since the Crown Prince's health has improved, he no longer needs to rest in the palace."

"When you have time, go out and get around more."

Zhang Rang was taken aback: "Your Majesty, this..."

"Since he has figured it out, I will take it as if he has figured it out."

Emperor Ling of Han waved his hand, interrupting him.

"Go down."

Zhang Rang dared not ask any more questions, and withdrew with the memorial in his hands.

Emperor Ling of Han leaned back on the couch, closed his eyes, and remained calm.

But his hand tapped lightly on the armrest once, then once more.

-

The morning after the confinement was lifted, Liu Bian changed into his most ordinary clothes, left Wang Ming in the East Palace, and walked to Zhangde Hall with only two eunuchs.

He didn't bring any folding paper, no recommendation books, nothing at all.

At the entrance of Zhangde Hall, a guard announced that they were to enter. A moment later, he came out and said that His Majesty summoned them.

Liu Bian went inside; there was no one else in the hall.

Emperor Ling of Han sat behind his desk, holding a scroll in his hand. When he saw him enter, he did not put the scroll down, but merely looked up from the pages of the book at him before returning his gaze to the book.

Liu Bian walked to the table, knelt down, bowed, and then straightened up without saying a word.

Emperor Ling of Han turned a page, then slowly, turned another page before speaking. His voice was neither cold nor warm:

"stand up."

Liu Bian stood up.

The hall was quiet for a while, with only the faint sound of pages turning.

Emperor Ling of Han put down the scroll, picked up his teacup, took a sip, and looked at Liu Bian again. His gaze lingered on Liu Bian's face for a moment, then on the still slightly bloodshot eyes, for three or four breaths before moving away.

"You've lost weight."

Liu Bian was taken aback by what he said, paused for a moment, and then lowered his head:

"I've worried my father."

Emperor Ling of Han did not respond, but simply held his teacup and looked away again.

The hall fell silent for a while.

Liu Bian stood there, his mind replaying the words Xun Yu had spoken to him the night his confinement was lifted—

"After your confinement is lifted, Your Highness need not rush to explain what happened at the West Garden, nor need you rush to express any feelings. Just do one thing—"

"What is it?"

Go and pay your respects.

When Xun Yu said those two words, his tone was very flat, as if he were talking about something extremely ordinary:

"He brought no one, no memorials, and discussed no politics. He was just a son going to see his father."

Liu Bian looked at Xun Yu but did not speak immediately.

He thought for a long time before saying:

"That's all?"

"That's all." Xun Yu nodded.

"In the past few years, Your Highness has gone to the Zhangde Hall to see the Emperor with nothing but business, nothing but business, and nothing but business left behind. What His Majesty waits for in the hall is always the Crown Prince, not his son."

He paused:

"This time, he got to have a son."

The room remained quiet for a long time.

The lamplight flickered gently in the night breeze, pushing the two shadows against the wall before pulling them back.

Liu Bian lowered his head, staring at the folded list on the table for a long time before finally raising his eyes again:

"Sir, do you think my father still cares about me?"

He himself was taken aback for a moment when he asked the question.

This wasn't a question asked by the crown prince; it was a question asked by a twelve-year-old child.

Xun Yu looked at him, remained silent for a moment, and then said:

"Your Majesty does not know how much of your heart is filled with fatherly affection and how much with scheming between ruler and subject. But I do know one thing—if Your Majesty does not have His Highness in your heart, he only needs to issue a more severe decree that night, not just confinement, but something else entirely."

He paused:

He didn't.

-

The crackling of the charcoal fire inside the room pulled Liu Bian's thoughts back to the present.

He simply stood there, without saying a word about the West Garden, about the recommended books, or anything else he had brought in to say.

Because he didn't bring anything with him.

Emperor Ling of Han turned his head and looked at him again.

There was something moving in his eyes, something complex. One layer was his role as emperor, and another layer, pressed at the very bottom, was his role as a father.

He buried that layer very deep, so deep that even he himself rarely looked at it.

But Liu Bian didn't say anything today, he just stood there, which actually raised that level a bit.

Emperor Ling of Han put down his teacup, his tone still calm, but with a hint of something more indescribable than before:

"Please sit down."

Liu Bian sat down beside Emperor Ling of Han without saying a word, simply keeping him company in the quiet hall.

The sunlight streaming in through the window cast the shadows of the father and son, one large and one small, motionless on the floor tiles.

There was no politics, no chess game, nothing that needed to determine a winner or loser.

Just sitting.

Emperor Ling of Han, holding a teacup and looking down at the water, suddenly spoke without warning, his voice half an octave lower than usual:

"How is your mother doing lately?"

Liu Bian paused slightly, then replied:

"These past few days I have been recuperating in the Eastern Palace and have not had time to visit my mother."

"It was my fault. I will apologize to Mother Consort in person later."

Liu Bian stood up and bowed slightly to Emperor Ling of Han.

Upon hearing this, Emperor Ling of Han paused.

He could tell from the child's voice that he felt wronged.

Emperor Ling of Han raised his eyes and looked at Liu Bian:

"Are you feeling any better?"

Liu Bian stood there, stunned for a moment.

He hadn't expected Emperor Ling of Han to ask this.

He wasn't asking about politics, nor about the West Garden, nor about anything he expected to be asked. He simply asked—was he feeling any better?

He held his breath in his chest before speaking, his voice lower than he had expected:

"I'm much better. Hua Tuo prescribed a medicine and told me to rest for a few days, saying... saying that we can't rush things anymore."

He paused slightly after saying the last three words.

He hadn't intended to say that.

But the words slipped out before I could even finish them.

Emperor Ling of Han paused for a moment in his hand, which was holding a teacup.

He didn't look at Liu Bian, but instead stared at the surface of the water in his teacup. After a moment of silence, he spoke, his voice even flatter than before, but something was moving beneath that flatness:

"Hua Tuo is right."

He paused:

"We can't rush things any further."

Upon hearing this, Liu Bian couldn't immediately tell whether his father was referring to him or himself.

Emperor Ling of Han suddenly put down his teacup, stood up, walked to the window, turned his back to Liu Bian, and looked out the window.

Liu Bian stood still, without moving.

He couldn't see his father's expression, only his back, which was more hunched than a few years ago, and the imperial robes he wore didn't look as upright as they did when he was young.

"Bian'er." Emperor Ling of Han suddenly spoke, his voice coming from the window, even lower than before, as if he were speaking to himself.

Liu Bian stepped forward: "Your subject is here."

Emperor Ling of Han did not turn back.

He stood by the window, looking at the sky over Luoyang, at the eaves and streets he had tended his entire life, and remained silent for a long time before finally uttering a single sentence:

"Sometimes I think, it would be better if you were a little less intelligent."

Liu Bian's breathing stopped for a moment.

He hadn't expected his father to say such a thing.

It wasn't a scolding, nor a test; it was a sentence that even he himself might not know why he said.

After Emperor Ling of Han finished speaking, he himself was taken aback.

He turned around and looked at Liu Bian, his eyes filled with something indescribable—helplessness, weariness, a fleeting tenderness, and many other things that even he himself couldn't quite put his finger on.

Then he walked back to the tatami mat, leaned against it again, picked up the teacup, took a sip, and his tone returned to its usual calm:

"Go. Go see your mother."

Liu Bian stood there, looking at the person leaning against the couch, and suddenly felt a tightness in his throat.

He wanted to say something, but the words stuck in his throat.

Finally, he simply knelt down and solemnly bowed:

"Your subject takes his leave."

He got up, turned around, and walked out.

As I reached the door, a voice suddenly came from behind me:

"Bian'er".

Liu Bian stopped and turned around.

Emperor Ling of Han leaned back on the couch, not looking at him, but only at the teacup in his hand, his voice very low:

"Over at the West Garden, Gongsun Zan... isn't he Lu Zhi's protégé?"

Liu Bian's heart skipped a beat.

Emperor Ling of Han raised his eyes and looked at him.

There was no questioning or probing in that gaze, only something faint that he couldn't decipher.

"Go."

Liu Bian did not speak again, but simply bowed once more, turned and walked out of the hall.