Chapter 119: Chapter 118. Cold Forest, Dead Crows.

Chapter 118.

The moment Yao Shi returned to her courtyard, unease gripped her chest like a vice. Something was coming—she could feel it. It was a dark, foreboding sensation, one that refused to leave her alone.

She paced the room in restless circles, trying to calm the storm raging inside her. Eventually, she forced herself to sit, smoothing her expression into something more neutral.

No slip-ups. No signs of panic.

She couldn't afford to let anything show—not now.

It didn’t take long before Yin Chengjing entered the room. His face wore its usual easy smile, but his eyes? Cold. Sharp. Predatory.

Yao Shi’s heart skipped a beat as she rose to greet him, only to stop in her tracks when he waved off the servants with a flick of his hand. One by one, they filed out as he personally shut the door behind them, sealing the two of them in.

The silence pressed down, thick and suffocating. Her unease curdled into dread. She tried, hesitantly, “Your Highness?”

He didn’t answer. Not immediately. Instead, he dropped the mask entirely, that faux charm peeling away as he stalked toward her, each step deliberate and menacing. His voice cut through the air like a blade.

“Safflower? Trying to get rid of the child, are you? What do you know?”

Each question he spat out dragged the room deeper into shadow. His face twisted, darkened, until he looked less like a man and more like a demon wearing human skin. By the time the last question left his lips, his gaze pinned her like a predator sizing up its prey.

Yao Shi’s breath hitched. Her pulse hammered wildly.

How did he find out?

How could he know about the safflower?

Panic clawed at her, but she clung to her composure like a lifeline. The medicine was gone. Destroyed. He had no proof. She clutched her handkerchief tighter, her voice trembling just enough to sound convincing.

“I don’t understand what you mean, Your Highness,” she murmured, her eyes reddening as tears welled up. “How could I ever consider such a thing? You’ve misunderstood. You’ve frightened me…”

Yin Chengjing’s jaw tightened, his glare boring into her, dissecting her every word, her every expression. The tension stretched until it felt unbearable, then finally—finally—he let out a cold, derisive laugh.

Without a word, his hand reached out and brushed against her abdomen, the touch light, almost deceptively tender. But his words were anything but. “I don’t care what you’ve discovered. This child stays. You’ll give birth to it, no matter what.”

His tone was soft, eerily so, but that softness carried the weight of a threat. The promise of ruin if she dared to disobey. Yao Shi’s knees nearly gave out beneath her, but she managed a shaky nod, her voice barely above a whisper. “Of course, Your Highness. Naturally.”

“Good,” he said, his lips curling into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “From now on, you’ll remain in the estate. No unnecessary outings—don’t want you ‘accidentally’ hurting yourself, now do we? As for the useless girls around you, I’ll replace them with ones who know how to serve properly.”

His gaze raked over her one final time, ice-cold and cutting, before he strode to the door. Calling his guards, he ordered, “Escort the princess consort back to the rear courtyard.”

When her personal maid tried to follow, she was stopped—dragged away without ceremony. Yao Shi’s lips parted to protest, but the words caught in her throat. Powerless, she let herself be led away, the guards shadowing her every step.

She didn’t speak again.

What was the point? In this game, silence was the only shield she had left.

Yin Chengjing stared at her slender back, his dark gaze heavy with unspoken thoughts. He stood there for what felt like an eternity before finally ordering his carriage to the palace.

The moment he stepped past the palace gates, he made his way to Xianfu Palace in a rush, seeking Consort De.

Seeing her son’s stormy expression, Consort De dismissed the attendants without hesitation. Only then did she speak, her voice calm but probing.

“What happened?”

“They know,” he bit out, his teeth clenched, the mask of control finally slipping as his true self emerged—a beast cornered and brimming with fury.

“Yao Shi and Prince An found out.”

If it weren’t for the grand plan he had painstakingly built, he wouldn’t have endured such humiliation.

“How could Prince An possibly know?” Consort De’s face paled as her voice rose in alarm.

Yin Chengjing’s fist slammed down on the wooden table, the sound a deep, menacing thud. “That wretched Yao woman noticed something was off! She tried to end the pregnancy, but Prince An caught her in the act!”

He thought everything was perfectly orchestrated, flawless down to the last detail. Who would have imagined it would all crumble because of a meddling woman? If he had known, he would’ve locked her away long ago.

The memory of Yin Ciguang’s smug, mocking expression as he uttered that cutting remark resurfaced, and it took everything in Yin Chengjing not to rip his face apart.

“Does the Yao family know?”

“They shouldn’t yet. That woman didn’t have the time to inform them,” Yin Chengjing said, recalling Yao’s unusual behavior the night before. “She must’ve figured it out last night. The Yao family isn’t worth worrying over. Yao Zhaoan is already tied to me—he’s not stepping off my ship, not unless he’s ready to sink with it.”

“The Yao family may be inconsequential,” Consort De said, her brows furrowing deeper, “but if Prince An uses this against you and takes it to the Emperor…” She trailed off, unable to hide her growing unease.

Prince An now roamed the palace freely, gaining Emperor Longfeng’s trust more and more each day. Everything, from courtly matters to personal arrangements, was under Yin Ciguang’s watchful eye.

The Crown Prince had his birthright as heir. Prince An had the Emperor’s favor and trust as his eldest. Her son? Her son stood between them, his position precarious, unacknowledged, and unsupported.

And now, with the hidden affliction he carried, if the Emperor believed Prince An and summoned the imperial physicians, years of careful plotting would unravel in an instant.

Consort De twisted her handkerchief, her expression clouded with hesitation.

“I’m done waiting,” Yin Chengjing suddenly said, his voice cold and resolute. “We’ve endured and plotted for years. Enough is enough. If we wait any longer, who’s to say Father will even live to see that day?”

If the Emperor died, the Crown Prince would ascend, legitimizing his rule. And Yin Chengjing? He’d be left with nothing.

Consort De’s gaze sharpened. “You mean to say…”

Yin Chengjing’s lips curled into a ruthless smirk. “To achieve greatness, you can’t afford to hesitate.”

*

Uju had been keeping a sharp eye on the movements in the main courtyard.

She’d been planning to approach Yao Shi at the right moment. The moment she heard Yao Shi had returned from Jinyun Temple, she wasted no time sending someone to the front courtyard to gather intel.

But what did she find instead? Yao Shi being escorted back to the main residence under heavy guard.

The official word was that Yao Shi had nearly fallen at the temple, straining her pregnancy and requiring rest. But the truth? Even her personal maidservants had been dismissed. This wasn’t mere recovery—it was confinement, pure and simple.

Something was definitely up.

Uju, sharp as ever, didn’t waste a heartbeat. The second Yin Chengjing left the estate, she sent out a message.

Good thing she acted fast. By the time Yin Chengjing returned from the palace, the Third Prince’s residence had suddenly gone into lockdown. Guards doubled at every gate, the main doors slammed shut, and the side entrances were all replaced with trusted personal guards. Nobody was coming in or out without permission.

Word of this upheaval reached Ciqing Palace in no time, along with a juicy detail: a tense exchange between Prince An and the Third Prince at the estate’s gates.

“It seems Yao Shi let something slip, and Yin Chengjing picked up on it,” Yin Chengyu remarked, tossing a chess piece onto the board mid-game as he turned to Xue Shu. “If you were him, what would you do?”

Xue Shu didn’t hesitate. “Rather than fighting a losing battle, I’d go all in. That’s the only way to turn things around.”

Yin Chengyu smirked. The man was on the same wavelength. Tapping a finger against the chessboard, he asked, “How many palace guards can you mobilize right now?”

“The Jinwu Guard and Yulin Guard are both at my command. As for the Jinyi Guard, half remain loyal to Gong Hongfei.”

Yin Chengyu did a quick calculation. “That’ll do.”

He didn’t know exactly what cards Yin Chengjing had left after scheming in the shadows for years, but with the Jinwu and Yulin Guards, protecting Jingren Palace would be no issue.

As for Qianqing Palace… A flicker of darkness passed through Yin Chengyu’s eyes. The Emperor had the blessing of the true dragon. He hardly needed help from an “extra” son like him.

“What about Prince An?” Xue Shu cut in. “Today, he personally delivered Yao Shi back to the Third Prince’s estate, only for her to be confined right after. A bit too convenient, don’t you think?”

Convenient? More like a dead giveaway. Xue Shu was convinced Prince An had meddled.

After all, Prince An had seen Yin Chengjing’s injury during the winter hunt at Danshi. When rumors of the Third Prince’s impotence swept through Capital, who else but Prince An—knowledgeable in medicine—could connect the dots?

He was the one who tore through the fragile veil, forcing Yin Chengjing into a corner like a desperate dog, yet no one knew what he aimed to achieve.

“I’ll meet him myself,” Yin Chengyu said, rising abruptly. Without waiting for a response, he strode out the door.

The Emperor Longfeng, had suffered a stroke, leaving Yin Ciguang trapped in the palace tending to his illness. Arranging a meeting between the two was effortless.

The rendezvous was set at the Qiuxue Pavilion by Taiye Pond.

Yin Ciguang arrived later, accompanied only by a eunuch servant.

Yin Chengyu stood beneath the pavilion, spotting a solitary figure approaching from afar. Dressed in pale green, the person seemed to merge with the spring willows swaying in the breeze, as though a gust of wind could scatter him like drifting catkins.

The sight jolted memories loose in Yin Chengyu’s mind—memories of their first meeting at this very pavilion. Back then, Yin Ciguang was still disguised as a daughter, wearing a pale green gown, her frail, pallid appearance hauntingly delicate.

“Your Highness.” The voice pulled him from his reverie. Yin Ciguang had already approached, speaking first.

His demeanor and tone hadn’t changed one bit.

Whether dressed as a woman or reclaiming his identity as a prince, Yin Ciguang always kept himself beneath others, addressing Yin Chengyu as “Your Highness,” never asserting the rights of an elder sibling.

Yin Chengyu turned his back, watching the willow branches sway by the pond. His voice was low but piercing. “Are you here to fight me, too?”

Yin Ciguang froze for a moment, his expression unreadable as his gaze swept across Yin Chengyu’s profile before shifting to the horizon. His tone carried a faint trace of bitterness. “If Yin Chengzhang can fight, and Yin Chengjing can fight, why can’t I?”

“You’re not like them.” Yin Chengyu turned to face him, his expression solemn.

No matter what, Yin Chengzhang and Yin Chengjing were fated enemies, not brothers.

But Yin Ciguang was supposed to be different.

At least, he thought he was.

Yin Ciguang held his gaze, his eyes flickering briefly toward Xue Shu, who stood at a distance. His lips moved as though he wanted to ask something, but he ultimately said nothing.

Instead, he averted his eyes, a faint, mocking smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you, Your Highness. There’s no difference between me and the others.”

Yin Chengyu's brow furrowed slowly as he fixed his gaze on him, scrutinizing him with piercing intensity. He could tell Yin Ciguang's words were insincere, every syllable reeking of pretense.

But Yin Ciguang clearly had no intention of speaking further, and pressing him for answers would be a waste of time.

"Let’s hope, for both our sakes, that the day never comes when brothers meet on the battlefield." With that, Yin Chengyu brushed past him without another glance.

Yin Ciguang stood there, staring at the still, unbroken surface of the lake, his expression unreadable. He didn’t turn back.

It was only after a long, silent moment that he finally turned on his heel and headed toward the Qianqing Palace.

Inside, Emperor Longfeng had just awakened. His voice, thick with weakness, broke the quiet. "Where have you been?"

Since his stroke that day, the emperor’s health had deteriorated rapidly. His body weakened with each passing day, despite the endless stream of herbal medicine he consumed. No improvement came—only a steady decline. Even his mind was beginning to fog. The imperial physicians had tried everything, but the root cause eluded them. In the end, they attributed it to years of indulgence that had drained the emperor’s vitality and the long-term poisoning from excessive use of alchemical elixirs.

With his body failing him, Emperor Longfeng had become more dependent on Yin Ciguang. The emperor couldn’t bear even a short absence, often sending people to search for him when he wasn’t around.

Yin Ciguang took the bowl of medicinal soup from the maidservant, personally tending to the emperor as he drank it. He then lit a calming incense and coaxed him back to sleep. Only after the emperor was settled did he quietly leave the chamber.

Gao Xian approached, hands clasped, and leaned in to speak in a low voice. “The Third Prince visited the Xianfu Palace this afternoon. Afterward, he returned to his residence. The area around his estate seems calm on the surface, but inside, it’s already on lockdown.”

“Keep watching him. The moment the Third Prince makes his move, strike while his defenses are down and send someone to make contact with the Yao family.”

“Yes, my lord,” Gao Xian replied.

*

After returning from the Qiuxue Pavilion, Yin Chengyu went straight to the Hongren Hall to handle official matters.

But anyone with eyes could see the man’s mind was elsewhere. Halfway through reviewing documents, his brush faltered and stilled.

Xue Shu approached silently from behind, pulling the brush from his hand and setting it aside on the rack. His voice was low but firm. “If you’re tired, Your Highness, rest. Don’t force yourself.”

“I am tired,” Yin Chengyu admitted, tossing the document back onto the desk with an unceremonious thud. He leaned back against Xue Shu’s chest, exhaling deeply. The weight of his exhaustion was unmistakable. “I’ve always respected him as my brother. I don’t want to draw swords within the family. Is that throne really so irresistible?”

Yet, even as he occupied that coveted position, it felt more like a yoke than a prize.

Had he not been raised from birth to carry the burdens of a crown prince, the pressure might have crushed him. If given a choice, he would’ve gladly traded it all to live as a carefree noble with no weight on his shoulders.

He tilted his head back, resting it against Xue Shu’s abdomen, his gaze soft but thoughtful as memories of their clashes in his past life surfaced. His fingers toyed with the ribbon hanging from Xue Shu’s hat, tugging it downward with a deliberate pull. His voice carried a lazy yet probing edge. “And you? Do you crave power?”

In this lifetime, with Xue Shu at his side, there would be no Nine-Thousand-Year Eunuch to haunt the court. That much he knew.

Xue Shu took his face in his hands, not tenderly, but with a firm grip, and lowered his head, placing a reverent kiss on his eyelids, a gesture that was almost too intense. It was like he was worshipping at an altar. Then he took his lips, a kiss that was both demanding and possessive.

His eyes, smoldering with a fierce devotion, made his point crystal clear. “The most powerful person in the world is already in my arms. What more could I want?”

Yin Chengyu’s expression shifted in an instant. Those words hit him like a shot of pure lust, flipping the whole script. He wasn't about to sit back and take it anymore; he grabbed the back of Xue Shu's head like he owned it, pulling him in for a kiss that was less "sweet nothings" and more "I'm gonna devour you." This wasn't some gentle peck; this was a full-on, tongue-down-the-throat assault.

His slender neck arched as his Adam’s apple bobbed with each swallow, betraying the unspoken tension he tried to release.

Xue Shu could practically taste the storm brewing inside him – a nasty cocktail of frustration and raw, animal desire. Instead of letting it explode, he met it head-on, a slow, deliberate dance of lips and tongue that teased and tormented, coaxing that coiled tension into something softer, quieter, like kneading dough until it yields.

Only after a long while did he pull back, speaking in broken phrases. “The matter with Prince An… If Your Highness cannot bring yourself to act, leave it to me.”

When he said this, his eyes darkened with a fierce and unrelenting resolve.

Yin Chengyu shifted again, settling comfortably against Xue Shu as though he were nothing more than a cushion. He lowered his gaze, absentmindedly tracing the lines of Xue Shu’s hand with his fingers. “There’s no rush. Just keep an eye on him for now.”

———TN:

It’s downright depressing. Just as anyone could’ve guessed, the royal family isn’t about fathers, sons, or brotherly bonds—it’s nothing but a ruthless, cutthroat battle for power.