Chapter Fifty-Six: The Search

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Feng Qiuji had just entered the kitchen to fetch a meal intended for Ying Xuanyu when she saw Yang Siyuan walking her way.

“Brother Yang,” Feng Qiuji set down the bowl in her hands, pulled him aside, and lowered her voice, “I just asked around. This Ying Xuanyu seems to be quite someone of significance!”

“Oh?” Yang Siyuan gave her a curious look.

“He appears to be the eldest son of the Ying family, the wealthiest clan in the country. If we’ve detained him so rashly, what will we do if the Ying family comes for him?” Seeing the suspicion in Yang Siyuan’s eyes, Feng Qiuji quickly explained, “I’m just worried that if the Ying family is enraged, they might hire a swarm of assassins to come after us.”

“Don’t worry,” Yang Siyuan reassured her with a smile, “as long as Ying Xuanyu is in our hands, the Ying family, no matter who they send, will not dare act recklessly.” Then he glanced at the meal she carried. “And that food is...?”

“It’s for him. After all, he’s a hostage, but we can’t starve him, right?”

“True, you’re right.” With that, Yang Siyuan accompanied Feng Qiuji to deliver the meal to Ying Xuanyu.

Ying Xuanyu heard footsteps entering the room. He was about to speak, but something felt off—the footsteps belonged to two people. He fell silent, deciding to wait until Feng Qiuji came alone before saying anything.

“Master Ying, you’ll have to endure a few days in our humble establishment,” Yang Siyuan said, crouching before him and untying the ropes around his legs. “Rest assured, you will be treated well. Once we receive the ransom, you’ll be released unharmed—so we hope you’ll cooperate with us.”

Feng Qiuji couldn’t help but feel a twinge of helplessness—asking the victim of a kidnapping to cooperate seemed a bit much. She stepped forward, scooped up a large spoonful of rice, and said to Ying Xuanyu, “Here, open your mouth.”

Ying Xuanyu obediently did as told, and she fed him the rice. He chewed, then praised, “This is delicious. I wonder who made it?”

“Is it really good?” Feng Qiuji’s eyes lit up at his compliment.

“Yes, miss, you have remarkable culinary skills.” Ying Xuanyu guessed she was the cook and decided to tease her a little.

“Thank you for your praise, sir.”

Yang Siyuan frowned slightly at the scene. After a moment’s thought, he untied Ying Xuanyu’s arms as well, took the bowl from Feng Qiuji, and placed it in Ying Xuanyu’s hands. “Feed yourself, but don’t remove the blindfold.”

Ying Xuanyu was a bit disappointed; he’d rather enjoyed being fed by Feng Qiuji, but after only one bite, the moment was abruptly ended.

Thus, under the watchful eyes of Feng Qiuji and Yang Siyuan, Ying Xuanyu finished his meal. When he was done, Yang Siyuan stooped to retrieve the ropes, intending to bind his hands and feet once more.

“Wait,” Feng Qiuji interjected, unable to bear seeing Ying Xuanyu in such discomfort. “Brother Yang, he doesn’t know martial arts. There’s no need to tie him up—he can’t run away.”

“Alright.” Yang Siyuan considered this and agreed readily enough.

Feng Qiuji felt a bit better at this. Clearly, threatening her companions to release Ying Xuanyu was out of the question; her only option was to find a chance to help him escape quietly. Yet she hadn’t finished having her fun here, nor did she wish to become a traitor to the Axe Gang. What was she to do?

Torn between friendship and loyalty, Feng Qiuji suddenly felt the weight of being caught in the middle.

Meanwhile, Wei Long and Yu Fan sent word back—there was still no sign of Ling Shunuo.

Ling Zetian was increasingly anxious. Anuo’s identity was special and not widely known, so he dared not issue a nationwide search for fear of unleashing a storm of speculation about Anuo’s origins. For years, he had kept Anuo’s parentage a secret to protect him; few knew that Anuo was the son of Yan Wuying. He had planned to reveal the truth when Anuo came of age, allowing him to acknowledge his lineage openly.

But now, with Anuo’s whereabouts unknown, Ling Zetian could no longer even scold Ling Zexin. He ordered his attendants to prepare for departure—he would search for Anuo himself.

Qin Ruyan was still recuperating in bed, but as midday passed and Ling Zetian had yet to visit her, she decided to go see what he was up to. As she approached the palace gates of Chaoyun Hall, she saw him dressed in plain clothes, clearly preparing to leave the palace in haste.

“Ah Ye, where are you going?”

“What are you doing here?” Ling Zetian frowned, displeased that she was out while still unwell. “Return to Muchu Palace and rest at once.”

“Why are you dressed like this... has something happened?” Qin Ruyan ignored his command, concerned by his urgency.

“It’s nothing. Go back and rest.” Ling Zetian didn’t want to worry her, so he turned to leave.

“Tell me,” Qin Ruyan seized his sleeve, “what has happened?”

Growing impatient, Ling Zetian finally snapped, “Anuo has gone missing.”

Upon hearing this, Qin Ruyan forgot his harshness and clung to his sleeve even tighter. “Wasn’t he always in the palace? How could he go missing?”

“I have no time to explain. Just return and rest; I must leave the palace to search for him.” With that, he ordered Eunuch Sun, who had just arrived, “Escort Consort Qin back to Muchu Palace.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Eunuch Sun gave Qin Ruyan a look. “Please, Your Grace.”

With the emperor’s orders given, she could not openly defy him before the servants. She could only watch his figure disappear through the gates of Chaoyun Hall.

Anuo was the only surviving bloodline of her elder sister and brother-in-law—her only true family. But as Anuo had always been raised by Ling Zetian, she rarely interacted with him and so their relationship was not deep. Still, as her sister’s only son, she hoped nothing would happen to him, that he would grow up strong and become a pillar of the nation.

When she heard that Anuo had gone missing, she wanted to beg Ling Zetian to let her join the search, but she knew her own ill health would make him refuse. Besides, her mother had just passed away—she should return home to see to her family.

With this in mind, she packed her things simply, intending to settle her mother’s affairs at home. If Anuo was still missing by then, she would join the search herself.

With Ling Zetian and Qin Ruyan gone, the vast palace of the Ling Dynasty felt utterly empty.

Now, the only real power in the palace belonged to the Empress Dowager; the other consorts, mere ornaments, were hardly worth mentioning. Ling Zetian had considered this before leaving, and so he left the entire palace to the Empress Dowager, daring her to stir up trouble. If she did, he would see her punished upon his return.

Ling Zetian did not know the whole truth, but he had begun to suspect the real story behind his father’s edict that condemned Yan Wuying’s family. He had long resented his father for it, but later realized that, although the imperial edict had been issued, he had never witnessed the emperor personally give the command. For all the world, it was nothing but a written decree, and such decrees, once sealed with the royal jade, carried the emperor’s will—whether or not he had truly given the order.

He had overlooked this detail. By the time he realized, his father had already passed, and he himself had become emperor. He had regretted his resentment, especially since he had never forgiven his father even in his final days. Now, looking back, he blamed only his own youthful ignorance for failing to perceive the truth.

The only one capable of such a plot was Consort Lan—now the Empress Dowager.

As a child, Ling Zetian’s impression of the Empress Dowager was vague. He remembered her entering the palace young and somehow winning his father’s lasting favor. At that time, she was the envy and enemy of all the other consorts. As the saying goes, a tall tree attracts the wind—in the harem, even the emperor dared not show exclusive favor, for fear of sowing discord. The more favored a woman was, the more she became a target, and the harder her survival. To put it bluntly, it was a dangerous life.

Yet the Empress Dowager had not only maintained the emperor’s favor, but survived all the jealousy and intrigue, eventually becoming empress and then empress dowager—a testament to her skill and cunning.

After the old emperor’s death, most of the former consorts had been buried, taken vows, or left the palace. None remained but the Empress Dowager, who, though not Ling Zetian’s birth mother, had managed to secure her position as empress before the emperor’s death. Ling Zetian’s own mother had long passed, so he let it be and honored Consort Lan as Empress Dowager. In truth, he seldom visited her or spoke to her, knowing her ambitions too well to ever let down his guard.

There is nothing more terrifying or unfathomable than the human heart. For you can never truly know whether someone you trust will betray you in your time of need.

Of course, the heart is so complex because you are not me, nor am I you—thus, true understanding is rare, and tragedy all too common. If one person could fully comprehend another’s feelings, the world would see far fewer sorrows.

To Ling Zetian, the Empress Dowager was a ticking time bomb hidden within the palace—no one could predict when she might explode, or when she might make her move. All he could do was guard against her ever more vigilantly, and strive to uncover the truth as soon as possible.

—— Author’s Note ——

I’ve always remembered a line from Han Han’s “Turmoil in Chang’an”: In this world, there is no one who can fully understand another’s sorrow.

Everyone has their own mind, their own complexities, and that is why the human heart seems so inscrutable. Sometimes, try to trust others a bit more—you may be rewarded for it.

I don’t know if anyone is still reading at this point, or if these words will be seen by anyone. I just finished writing and uploading this, and these are my thoughts at the moment, so I’ll leave them here. *^_^*