Chapter 210: Losing Her

The Imperial Guards stationed at the prefecture had stood watch all night and were just relieved from duty. Some were resting briefly, others preparing to return home. They recognized the token but harbored doubts: the Ministry of War had no authority to command the Imperial Guards. What if something went wrong?

"I'll take responsibility," Ye Jiao declared.

"You?" some voices voiced concern. "We all know that Ye Langzhong is favored by His Majesty, but we must adhere to protocol. If you take responsibility alone, it might not suffice."

Ye Jiao clenched the token tightly and retorted, "If I alone am insufficient, what about the Duke of Anguo's residence? And if that's still not enough, then add the Prince of Chu's mansion."

The young guard from Feinu Garden spoke clearly and earnestly, his expression urgent. Ye Jiao knew well who the Yan family were. If they were to clash violently with Yan Congzheng over political differences... Unfortunately, the "As If the Emperor Himself" token in her hand was a forgery and couldn't be wielded.

The weight of such a guarantee was immense.

The Imperial Guards hesitated awkwardly. "It's not that we don't trust you, but the vice commander is in his own home. What harm could possibly come to him?"

They adjusted their robes and reached for their weapons. Ye Jiao strode forward and grabbed a bow and arrows.

"That bow is heavy," someone cautioned.

Before the words could fully leave their mouths, Ye Jiao had already slung the bow over her back and spurred her horse into motion. Her movements flowed like a seamless dance, causing the guards' expressions to sharpen, silencing their whispers.

Truly, she was of the Duke of Anguo's household.

Even as a woman, she bore the commanding presence of a warrior astride her steed.

But—how was her archery?

Her shots were unerring.

Perched atop the Yan estate's wall, Ye Jiao loosed three arrows in quick succession, felling those grappling with Yan Congzheng.

The guards who scaled the walls were dumbfounded for a moment before regaining their senses and shouting to halt their comrades.

"Stop! Do you want to die? That's our vice commander!"

The guards surged forward, but as their feet hit the ground, they froze. The earth beneath them was soaked with blood, the mud sticky with gore. Yan Congzheng had tried countless times to breach the wall but was repeatedly dragged back here.

The courtyard lay strewn with bodies.

How long had Yan Congzheng fought? His face and body were riddled with wounds, drenched in blood.

Ye Jiao stood on the blood-soaked earth, calling softly, "Yan…"

Her voice caught in her throat; tears brimmed and blurred her vision as she approached slowly.

Yan Congzheng awoke at midnight. He spent hours gnawing through the ropes binding him, gradually regaining feeling in his limbs. He stood, recovered strength, and finally stepped outside.

Outside, guards stood watch, their orders absolute.

He tried to reason with them gently, but they insisted that their lord commanded him to stay locked away—even if it meant killing him.

With his numb body, Yan Congzheng lacked strength. Several times he was seized, hoisted high, and thrown back into the room.

He kept breaking out and fighting.

At first, with fists only, since they were his own men. When fists failed, he drew a blade. The guards met him blade to blade in a desperate fight.

He thought he wouldn't leave today.

Supporting himself with the sword, Yan Congzheng knew these measures were tied to the throne's turmoil. Trapped, he could only watch the Yan family dragged into ruin by Li Chen and the Lu faction, doomed to perish without burial.

Pain radiated from his wounds. From dusk until now, he'd neither eaten nor drunk, battling until exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him.

Anger, helplessness, despair, and bitter self-disappointment mingled in his heart, making time feel agonizing—like being hung upside down on a scaffold, the executioner merely slicing his scalp, waiting patiently for his blood to drain before death.

Kneeling on one knee, he steadied himself on his great sword, barely holding on.

At that moment, he heard the call, "Yan…"

His own name.

Yan Congzheng lifted his head, seeing the guards who attacked him fall one by one, and Ye Jiao standing distantly, clad in a robe like rosy clouds. She slowly lowered her bow, eyes brimming with concern and tenderness.

Life is long.

In Yan Congzheng's heart, only two moments lingered vividly: her smiling at him through the peach blossoms, and today—her appearance in the Yan estate's backyard, saving him from peril.

Ye Jiao, Ye Jiao.

In that instant, Yan Congzheng's heart ached beyond measure—for the eternal loss, and for the truth that he was no longer worthy.

"Ye…" he wanted to call her name, but before the guards and Imperial Guards, he uttered cautiously, "Ye Langzhong?"

He once used her to provoke Shu Wen into breaking off their betrothal. Yet she still came to save him?

Ye Jiao rushed forward, lowering her bow and steadying Yan Congzheng's shoulders.

"What happened?" she asked anxiously, pressing her fingers against a wound on his arm.

The Imperial Guards busied themselves subduing rebellious guards, but Ye Jiao's sole focus was him.

Yan Congzheng tried to pull away, fearing to soil her sleeve, but could barely stand.

"It's not me. It's the palace. Did you go to the palace today? Something must have happened."

"The palace?" Ye Jiao was stunned. "Is the Crown Prince attempting a coup?"

The Crown Prince had been confined to the Eastern Palace for some time. Ye Jiao often suspected rebellion.

"Not the Crown Prince," Yan Congzheng ground his teeth as if shamed, "It's Li Chen. Li Chen."

Li Chen—the Wei Prince, Yan Congzheng's brother-in-law.

Ye Jiao released him and dashed outside.

"Ye Langzhong," Yan Congzheng grasped her sleeve, staggering but steadying himself, "Don't rush. I'll go with you. I know what to do. There are loyalists among the Imperial Guards, assigned by me to the Sixteenth Guard, isolated from Lu's faction. Find them, bring them to stop Li Chen, and we can succeed."

Tears streamed down Ye Jiao's face. The crisis tightened around them like fire.

"Brother Yan," she wept, "I must stop Li Chen. But if I do, how will you survive?"

She looked back at him, knowing if Li Chen won, Yan Congzheng would be imperial kin and a powerful minister. If she intervened, she might be sending him to the executioner.

They had once been close friends. Now, even still.

"Run," she urged, recalling when the emperor sought the Duke of Anguo's residence and Yan Congzheng had proposed the same.

"Leave the capital. If I lose, come back for my body. If I win, go roam the world as a wandering hero. Isn't that your dream?"

A swirl of emotions flooded Yan Congzheng—sorrow and solace intertwined.

He wiped the blood from his face, forcing a smile.

"Ye Jiao," he solemnly called, "We all know what is right, and we all must do what is right. The Prince of Chu, you, and I alike."

He raised his arms, signaling the Imperial Guards to lift him.

"Let's go. In this state, I may not accompany you to the palace. But my men—all of them—are yours."

All his men belonged to her—even if to use against his brother-in-law, to raze his family to ruins.

Ye Jiao's expression gradually calmed, though beneath lay a brewing storm, like dark clouds and impending tempest, standing at the front lines with no retreat.

Meanwhile, at the Eastern Palace, two forces truly faced off.

Li Chen, with the Imperial Guards, besieged the palace, sealing all entrances.

The Crown Prince's loyal troops stood inside, shields raised, protecting Li Zhang at the center.

"Li Chen," Li Zhang, garbed in golden and dark blue princely robes, stood fearless in the Eastern Palace, shouting, "Are you committing treason?"

"You're the traitor!" Li Chen accused, pointing sharply, "You forged the Emperor's 'As If the Emperor Himself' token, unleashed slaughter in Jinzhou, poisoned innocents, and slaughtered three thousand souls. Even the Prince of Chu, investigating the arm-crossbow case, lies grievously wounded and unconscious!"

Li Zhang's face darkened, cold and disdainful, only flickering with surprise when Li Chen mentioned the Prince of Chu's collapse.

"You frame me," Li Zhang replied calmly, "Who gave you the audacity to slander the heir of the Tang?"

"You're no longer heir!" Li Chen laughed, raising a hand. "By imperial edict, the Crown Prince Li Zhang is stripped of title, demoted to commoner, and banished from the capital. Resist, and be slain without mercy!"

The Crown Prince would never surrender willingly, so bloodshed was inevitable.

The shields guarding him trembled, their bearers uneasy.

"Is that so?" a voice sneered from among the Crown Prince's guards, "Then present the imperial decree here for all officials to witness. Otherwise, it's you who forged the edict, you who betray the emperor, you who violate human decency—and you shall die!"

Li Chen did not continue the verbal duel. He seized a crossbow bolt from a nearby guard, pulled the trigger.

An arrow flew toward Li Zhang; the guards retaliated fiercely. Chaos erupted within the Eastern Palace.

"Quite tumultuous in the palace today, isn't it?"

The emperor lay rigid on the dragon throne, dressed in formal court robes worn only during official audiences. His body was tense, fingers clenched, and his voice carried a weight unlike usual.

There was nothing to rejoice over.

Whichever side prevailed, he—the father—was defeated.

Defeated in failing to raise his son, defeated in failing to control his ministers.

"It's quiet here," Gao Fu knelt, burning medicinal herbs for the emperor, "Wei Prince's men guard outside. All is peaceful."

"What of Ye Jiao?" the emperor inquired, "Is she afraid?"

Gao Fu paused, then spoke candidly, "Unfortunately, Ye Langzhong visited the Prince of Chu's mansion today. She's not in the palace."

"Not in the palace?"

The emperor coughed, the Eastern pearl on his headpiece trembling with each spasm.

It seemed the golden token had been given to her in vain...