Bai Jinghuai loathed himself for having been too idle in the past, too trusting of others—so much so that now he couldn’t even confirm his own daughter’s life or death. Madam Qiao clutched his hand, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I only wish for Qingqing’s safety. I’m willing to give anything for that. But panicking here won’t help. Let’s wait a little longer. I don’t believe my daughter has such a short fate.”
While gloom hung over the Bai household like a thick fog, Prince Ping felt as if he’d just downed a chilled summer brew—refreshed, invigorated.
“That brat lost because of his arrogance! Hahahaha! He thought that just because he did a few things for the emperor, he could act high and mighty. But he’s still a far cry from true power. The young and reckless always pay the price.”
Fu Yanghong stroked his beard with satisfaction. He’d been skeptical at first when the news arrived, but Ning Yan’s elite Linjia Guards had indeed halted their advance to the southwest. They were even more diligent than his own men in searching the base of the cliff. That subordinate of Ning Yan’s—Mu Shu—had gone mad with grief, relentlessly hunting down his assassins like a man possessed.
It left Fu Yanghong with little choice but to believe it. Now even the emperor had dispatched his own people in a flurry, clearly rattled.
“No wonder that old immortal told me my luck was soaring—that all I wished would come true. Marvelous! Truly divine foresight!”
Fu Yanghong looked years younger, radiating vitality, his excitement barely contained. “Where’s Yi’er? Isn’t he in the manor?”
“Young Master Fu Yi has been in his study, my lord. He hasn’t come out in two days.”
Fu Yanghong’s brows twitched slightly. “I’ll go check on him.”
Inside the study, Fu Yi’s eyes were bloodshot. Before him lay the report of Ning Yan’s death, but he couldn’t absorb a single word. He didn’t believe it.
Impossible. How could this be? If Ning Yan was dead, then what about Qingqing? If even he had fallen into the trap, how could she—just a defenseless girl—possibly have survived?
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Fu Yi wished more than anything to rush out and see with his own eyes that Qingqing was safe. But his reason held him back, locking him in the study.
If she was unharmed, then all the better. But if—if something truly had happened to her, then he was the only one in this world who could fulfill her last wishes, the only one who could give her peace in the afterlife. At a time like this, he couldn’t afford to lose control.
“Yi’er, your father is coming in.”
Fu Yi snapped back to the present, slowly rising to his feet and bowing to Fu Yanghong.
Fu Yanghong was startled by his appearance. “What’s happened to my son? Why do you look so worn? Sit down at once. Tell me, what’s the matter?”
He cast a glance at the desk and spotted the message regarding Ning Yan.
“Is it because of this?”
Fu Yi lowered his gaze. “I just can’t believe it. Ning Yan always acted with such unpredictability—how could he die so easily? I fear something’s off. I must’ve been overthinking it, that’s all.”
Fu Yanghong laughed heartily and clapped Fu Yi on the shoulder. “You worry too much. No matter how skilled Ning Yan was, he wasn’t immune to poison or blades. In the end, he was just a man, albeit one with a bit of flair, inflated by others’ praise.”
“...It was foolish of me to overthink.”
Fu Yanghong gave his shoulder a firm squeeze. “It’s good that you think deeply, but don’t lose yourself in it. This time, your father pulled out all the stops—favorable timing, terrain, and allies. Everything was in our favor. If he’s still not dead, he might as well be a demon.”
There was a subtle satisfaction in his voice. “For all his arrogance and glory, to me, he was just a reckless youth. Without him, many matters at court will proceed far more smoothly. Yi’er, your father has placed all his hopes in you.”