Chapter 55: A Clash of Father and Son (1/2)

The Crown Prince arrived at an imperial villa, pausing briefly to freshen up.

After the winter solstice, fifteen days hence, when the Big Dipper pointed to Gui, the lingering cold deepened into the Lesser Cold season.

In recent years, a saying had taken root among the common folk of Dahui: “Lesser Cold outchills Greater Cold”.

During this time, the Emperor, his father, was swamped with state affairs, marshaling supplies—cloth, furs, firewood, and charcoal—for the northern territories to brave the winter’s bite.

He also ordered local officials and charitable halls to prepare aid for those struck by frost and hunger.

Beyond this, with the New Year approaching, envoys from far-flung vassal states were arriving in droves.

The Emperor was too entangled in duties to spare a moment.

This was the Crown Prince’s chance.

He left his retinue at the Nanqiong Villa, taking only a dozen trusted cavalrymen and racing toward the imperial capital.

Upon entering the city, he bypassed his own residence and made no move to seek an audience with his father.

Instead, he went straight to pay respects to the Empress Dowager.

His demeanor was deferential, gentle, as if he knew nothing of the undercurrents swirling around him.

The Empress Dowager, caught off guard by his sudden return, felt a pang of guilt.

As his elder, she cherished her grandson, yet she had pledged her loyalty to her son, the Emperor.

The young noblewoman was now the Emperor’s, and no amount of affection could return her to the Crown Prince.

Shame kept her from meeting his gaze.

The Crown Prince, ever composed, sensed the evasion in her halting words.

He lowered his eyes, concealing his thoughts, and bid her farewell with practiced ease, claiming he would next visit his mother, the Empress.

She was not his birth mother, but his legal one, bound by title and duty.

The Empress Dowager seized the moment, urging, “Yes, go pay respects to your mother. She’s been thinking of you often while you were away.”

She paused, then added with a warm smile, “And your father, too—he’s been worried about you.”

The words rang hollow to the Crown Prince, laced with bitter irony.

He understood now: neither his grandmother nor the Empress would stand by him.

They were his closest kin, yet when it came to conflict with his father, they would always choose the Emperor.

He was the pillar they upheld, the steady hand they trusted over his own.

A wry smile curled his lips as he bowed respectfully and took his leave.

Only after he was gone did the Empress Dowager realize, with a start, that she had forgotten to share joyful news: the Crown Prince was to become a father.

Instead of visiting the Empress, he summoned his guards, issued brief instructions, and seized the moment to head for Langhua Hall.

Langhua Hall.

The Crown Princess had once mentioned that the Empress had arranged for the Emperor’s newest concubine to reside there.

That meant A wu was in Langhua Hall.

The Crown Prince had passed by it before—a quiet, unassuming place, yet visible from the Emperor’s Fengtian Hall in the distance.

He rode to Langhua Hall with purpose, storming inside without hesitation.

An inner eunuch stepped forward to block him, but the Crown Prince drew his sword, its cold edge flashing as he roared, “How dare you obstruct me, you insolent cur!”

The eunuch, trembling, dared not speak.

The Crown Prince shoved past, undeterred.

The palace’s defenses were formidable, but only against outsiders.

As the heir apparent, coming from the Empress Dowager’s Changshou Hall, he could enter any consort’s chambers unchallenged.

The inner palace had no patrols to stop him, and he moved as if the halls were empty.

The palace maids of Langhua Hall paled at the sight of him, sensing disaster.

If their noble mistress came to harm, their own lives would be forfeit.

They threw themselves in his path, desperate to intervene.

The Crown Prince swung his sword, and poor Weilan, reaching to stop him, took a cut to her arm.

Blood sprayed, and she collapsed with a scream.

Yilan broke into frantic sobs, crying out, “Help! Someone, help!”

The Crown Prince seized Yilan, pressing his blade to her throat.

“Is the noblewoman here surnamed Ning?”

Yilan, shaking and tear-streaked, stammered, “Y-yes… yes…”

He drew a sharp breath, flung her aside, and kicked open the door, shouting, “A wu!”

Inside, A wu was napping, lulled by the afternoon’s quiet.

The sudden commotion jolted her awake, confusion clouding her mind.

A clear, youthful voice called her name, and she froze.

The Crown Prince?

Calling her A wu?

Was she dreaming?

She scrambled into an outer robe, peering out hesitantly, only to meet his gaze.

He rushed in, his cloud-patterned boots trampling the carpet.

A wu shrieked, crawling back toward the brocade curtains in a frantic scramble.

The Crown Prince slashed through the drapery, revealing her.

Her hair fell in soft, disheveled waves, her golden-threaded robe clinging to skin as luminous as snow, a vision of delicate beauty too radiant to behold.

This was his A wu, once held so tenderly in his heart.

He stared, entranced, unable to tear his eyes away.

“A wu!”

She clutched her skirt, voice trembling.

“Your Highness, you—”

Her sweet fragrance enveloped him, and the sight of her—fragile as powdered snow—stirred a surge of longing in his chest.

She was more exquisite than he remembered, glowing with a soft, captivating allure that begged to be cherished.

He knelt halfway onto the bed, seizing her wrist.

To A wu, it was a nightmare.

She struggled against him, pleading, “You—you must leave! Why are you here? How are you here?”

The rear palace was forbidden to him, a married prince.

This breached all decorum, threatening her reputation, her honor.

His eyes, bloodshot and fierce, burned with suppressed longing.

“A wu, don’t be afraid. I’ll take you away. We’ll leave together, and then we’ll talk.”

He pulled her toward the door, ignoring her stunned disbelief.

She dared not resist too fiercely, fearing others would notice, and whispered urgently, “Your Highness, let me go! I’m not A wu, not your concubine. I’m a noblewoman, the Emperor’s noblewoman!”

He turned sharply, his voice cold.

“Be quiet and do as I say.”

A wu faltered, his gaze dark and unfamiliar, brimming with a chilling intensity.

Her legs trembled beneath her.

Unyielding, he wrapped her in a cloak and dragged her forward.

She stumbled, half-carried, until they reached the hall’s steps.

There, Yilan cradled a bloodied Weilan, sobbing.

A wu’s restraint shattered, and she screamed, thrashing against him.

“Let go! You’ve killed her! Are you mad?”

Yilan and a few young eunuchs grabbed brooms, edging forward to save her.

But the Crown Prince, trained in archery and combat, was no match for mere attendants.

He held A wu tightly, locking her against him, and kicked two eunuchs aside with ease.

As he strode out of Langhua Hall, palace guards closed in.

He raised a carved jade token with one hand, his voice commanding, “This is the Dragon Guard’s Imperial Token. To see it is to see the Emperor himself. Stand down!”

The Dragon Guard, protectors of the inner court and the Emperor’s personal force, answered to that token, a symbol of the Emperor’s trust in his heir.

Now, the Crown Prince wielded it.

The guards hesitated, faces paling, then knelt in submission, powerless to defy him.

The Crown Prince, heedless of consequence, held A wu tightly and strode toward the outer gates.

The Dahui imperial court was a fortress of vigilance, guarded by the elite Archguard Division, the Palace Vanguard, and the Ceremonial Guard—thirteen divisions in all, with rotating captains, armed lieutenants, and patrols weaving through the palace grounds day and night.

His brazen actions had already roused the inner court’s sentries.

A duty lieutenant sounded the copper bell signal, and within moments, the palace’s one hundred and sixty bells rang out in a cascading chorus, near to far, echoing across the vast complex.

Every hall and garden sealed its doors, and eunuchs and maids scattered to avoid the unfolding storm.

A wu, bewildered by the clamor of bells and the clatter of iron boots and clashing swords, paled with terror.

She tried to break free but dared not struggle too fiercely; she tried to plead, but the Crown Prince, face dark and resolute, pressed forward as if deaf to her words.

Tears streamed down her face as she sobbed, “Your Highness, please, come to your senses…”

He turned, his expression shadowed, and growled, “Be quiet!”

A wu flinched, trembling.

This was not the prince she once knew.

He was unhinged, consumed by madness.

With swift, purposeful steps, he carried her to a courtyard where a chestnut stallion awaited.

Still clutching her, he swung onto the horse.

A wu’s face drained of color—she could not leave the forbidden court.

To do so would mean no return, her past life reduced to ashes.

She thrashed desperately.

“No! I won’t go!”

His iron grip clamped her shoulders.

In her panic, A wu bit down hard on his hand, drawing blood.

The metallic taste flooded her mouth, and fear gripped her heart as she thought of Weilan, bloodied and fallen.

How did it come to this?

Where was the help?

The Crown Prince lowered his gaze, his bloodshot eyes locking onto hers.

Her lips, stained with his blood, glowed with a haunting, vivid beauty.

His expression softened abruptly, voice tender yet unnerving.

“A wu, do you hate me? If you wish, bite me again. Bite as you please.”

His gentle tone sent a chill through her, its warmth laced with something sinister.

Her strength drained, despair washing over her.

He was mad, and she was surely doomed.

But then, a voice cut through the night, steady and resonant.

“Mo Yao, what are you doing?”

The palace, vast and somber under the cold night sky, seemed to hold its breath.

The voice was a thunderclap, startling A wu into a shudder.

The Crown Prince lifted his eyes slowly, scanning the scene.

Before them stood a line of Dragon Guards, their long blades gleaming with reflected torchlight, their faces stern and unyielding.