Leaving the Cao Bang Headquarter, Song Yuyan didn’t return to her temporary residence, instead directing her carriage toward the west side of the city.
There stood an inconspicuous, three-courtyard residence. An old plaque hung above the door, inscribed with the two words: "Mo’s Studio".
This was the residence of Mo Qianqiu, the former chief strategist of the Crown Prince’s Mansion and one of the Crown Prince’s most trusted advisors.
Song Yuyan had also heard about Mo Qianqiu’s recent ordeals. It only strengthened her suspicions, though she knew some things had to remain hidden for now. ’Still, it’s time to begin certain preparations.’
The carriage stopped before Mo’s Studio. Song Yuyan didn’t open an umbrella, allowing the fine drizzle to dampen the hair at her temples and soak her shoulders.
She looked up at the old plaque, a complex emotion flickering in her eyes. It was clear she was far more familiar with Mo Qianqiu than Yue Yulong or Yue Yufeng were.
Years ago, Mo Qianqiu had been the most valued strategist in the Crown Prince’s Mansion, and a mentor she deeply respected.
But after the Crown Prince was deposed, she and Mo Qianqiu both suffered one blow after another. Hounded by the then-frenzied Prince, they had ultimately chosen different paths of escape.
’Now... it’s time we met again.’
She raised a hand and gently rapped the door knocker.
A moment later, the door opened a crack, and an old servant peeked out. "Yes...?"
Song Yuyan said softly, "Please tell Master Mo that an old friend, Liuli, has come to visit."
The old servant froze for a second, then recognition dawned. "Madam, please come in," he said quickly. "The master is in his study. He will be right with you."
Song Yuyan stepped inside. The residence was austere, with no grand pavilions or terraces—just a few gray-tiled buildings around a small courtyard. It all seemed quite spartan.
Recalling Mo Qianqiu’s infinite prestige in his prime, Song Yuyan felt a pang of melancholy.
An old plum tree grew in the courtyard, its branches now lush with leaves that glistened a vibrant green in the rain.
The door to the study was open. Inside, an old man with a gaunt face and a full head of white hair and beard was bent over a desk, flourishing a brush, though what he was writing was unclear.
Hearing footsteps, he looked up. The moment he saw Song Yuyan, a flicker of surprise crossed his eyes before melting into a warm smile.
"Yuyan, you’ve come."
Song Yuyan bowed deeply. "Master Mo, it’s been many years. You’ve... grown thin."
"Sit. You’re here about that business from a few days ago, aren’t you?" Mo Qianqiu set down his brush and personally poured her tea.
Song Yuyan didn’t deny it. "Yes. I heard a master broke into Mo’s Studio one night. I was concerned for your safety, Master Mo."
"There’s no need to worry. The intruder has been dealt with, as has the one pulling the strings. It was even a blessing in disguise for me; I broke through a bottleneck that has held me back for years and advanced to the Super Grade Realm." Mo Qianqiu smiled, his eyes holding the serene detachment of one who has seen through the ways of the world.
"Master Mo, do you happen to know who that mysterious expert is?" Song Yuyan couldn’t help but ask, a sharp glint in her eye.
Mo Qianqiu sighed softly. "I have my suspicions."
He rose, walked over to a bookshelf, and took down a yellowed scroll, which he slowly unfurled.
The painting depicted a young man in brocade robes. With sharp brows, bright eyes, and a spirited air, he was as handsome as polished jade.
He was depicted drawing a bow, arrow nocked, as if on a hunt. In the top right corner, two lines of small characters were inscribed.
"The ambition of a dragon to soar the nine heavens, the heart of a tiger to roar across the four seas!"
The signature belonged to Xia Wuyang, the once-brilliant Crown Prince.
"I painted this for His Highness when he was fourteen," Mo Qianqiu said, gently stroking the scroll, his eyes filled with nostalgia. "Back then, His Highness was so heroic, so ambitious... But later..."
He shook his head, not finishing the thought, yet a faint trace of confusion surfaced in the depths of his eyes.
Song Yuyan looked at the youth in the painting, then thought of the white-haired old man in Wenhua Hall today, a man lost to his obsession with beautiful women. Her heart twisted in pain.
She asked softly, "Master Mo, what if... what if His Highness is well, and he’s the one orchestrating everything from behind the scenes?"
Mo Qianqiu was silent for a moment before speaking slowly. "The mysterious expert has already revealed his origins to Liyue. He is indeed connected to His Highness, but only through some past involvement with the Crown Prince’s Mansion. He claims he’s here to repay a debt of gratitude. As for His Highness... after decades of decline, we’ve yet to see any change in his condition."
A tremor ran through Song Yuyan. She wanted to suggest that the Crown Prince might have recovered, but she thought of Wenhua Hall, teeming with spies, and all the traitors who constantly surrounded him.
’If the Crown Prince was truly well, how could he have hidden it for this long? But then... who was it that came to see me that night? It had to have been the Crown Prince. It had to be.’
’Was he just brought here by the mysterious expert to take a look at me? Maybe the Crown Prince hasn’t recovered at all and possesses no real power.’
Song Yuyan took a deep breath, suppressing her wild thoughts.
Mo Qianqiu then began to recount other events. He spoke of Yun Liyue, who, despite being pressured by the Xuan Nu Palace and targeted by various factions, had been repeatedly saved by the mysterious expert. She had even recovered her lost original manual for the Sword Control Skill.
He mentioned Yan Jiuge, the fiery-tempered one, who had nearly been assassinated and had a hard-won Miracle Treasure stolen from her, only to be saved by the same expert. Even the Princess who stole the treasure had met with an ’accident’.
One incident after another, all were the work of this mysterious expert. He knew Yun Liyue’s master and had mentioned that he owed a debt to the Crown Prince’s Mansion. Hearing of its decline, he had come to repay that debt by watching over Xia Wuyang in his final days.
"If that’s the case, it’s still to His Highness’s credit. If he hadn’t been so charitable back then, this expert would never have come to his aid," Song Yuyan said, her voice trembling. "And yet we... we knew nothing. We could do nothing."
Mo Qianqiu was at a loss for words. He, too, had had his suspicions, but when he considered Xia Wuyang’s current state and everything that had happened over the years, he’d had to shatter his own illusions.
’Given the Crown Prince’s physical condition, recovery wouldn’t be easy. And even if he did recover, how could he possibly hide it? Even if by some miracle he did, how much power could he have possibly regained in such a short time?’
’So such a guess was likely just wishful thinking.’
’Besides, His Highness was truly benevolent in his youth and helped many people. It’s perfectly normal for someone to come and repay that kindness as he nears the end of his life. It’s just that this benefactor is unexpectedly, terrifyingly powerful.’
Song Yuyan spoke with Mo Qianqiu a while longer and learned that he was already making his own secret preparations. He intended to make a move, whether Xia Wuyang had recovered or not.
Even if Xia Wuyang truly was on his deathbed, Mo Qianqiu would ensure his final journey was a safe one. After hearing this, Song Yuyan departed in silence.
Although what Mo Qianqiu said made perfect sense—and even the concubines who spent their days in the Eastern Palace, like Yun Liyue and Yan Jiuge, believed it to be true—Song Yuyan couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
The man from that night, his familiar aura—it lingered in her mind, refusing to let her abandon all hope.
And her observations over the past few days of Xia Wuyang occasionally disappearing into the Practice Room only deepened her suspicions.
By the time she left Mo’s Studio, the rain had subsided to a drizzle.
She boarded her carriage and instructed the driver to head toward the Imperial Palace.
「Not long after, near Wenhua Hall.」
It was nearly dusk. The setting sun painted the horizon in brilliant shades of orange and red, a sight of exceptional beauty.
The glazed tiles of Wenhua Hall gleamed gold in the twilight. Lamps had already been lit within, and the faint sounds of music and flirtatious laughter drifted out, heralding the start of another night of revelry.

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