Legend of Fu Yao

“So that’s how it is,” he spoke suddenly before throwing Yun Hen a smirk and a sudden punch on his chest. “Look at you. A fellow small in size but big in courage.”

That punch landed rather intentionally and so heavily that Meng Fuyao could feel her hair splitting from the wind that strike carried. Her heart skipped a beat.

Yun Hen’s injury…

‘If he retaliates…’

Thud.

The dull sound of skin contact made Meng Fuyao squirm involuntarily.

Yun Hen staggered backward and just as his bum was about to hit the ground, he managed to break his fall by grabbing onto the clothes of a gunned guard. Red in the face, he cried out, “Joke’s on me. What great skills you have, Sir!”

“What skills are you talking about?” the imperial guard broke into unrestrained laughter, subconsciously killing every last doubt he had in mind. Any martial artist would instinctively defend or strike back if someone threw them such a sudden punch. Plus, would there be no signs of pain on his face if he was really injured?

He laughed heartily, and almost obscenely, as he swept his gaze to and fro between Yun Hen and Meng Fuyao. His laughter was reduced to a mysterious smile. Then, he waved. “Go on.”

The lines of guards retracted their weapons once more and pointed them toward the sky.

Meng Fuyao heaved a long sigh of relief before loosening her grip on the dagger inside of her sleeve.

She turned around and smiled, hinting at Yun Hen to look downward, to which he complied and saw a big thumbs up beneath her sleeve.

He couldn’t understand the meaning behind her gesture but decided that it was a compliment. Upon dropping his gaze, he noticed blood dripping wherever Meng Fuyao passed.

His heart tightened as a foreign pain swept over him. Underneath his sleeves, the aloof, strong youth balled his hands into two tight fists.

‘If you’re able to sacrifice this much, can’t I do the same? To endure this temporal ache and insult? To achieve big things is to ignore the trifles. A man should know this better…’

They had finally arrived at the end of the path. Before them stood a dark green wall that belonged to the Xin Palace.

The imperial guard fixed his attention on the area ahead of him, his eyes revealing a cold smile. ‘You’ve lived enough, Old Yun. Get ready to have your corpse cleared when Prince Qi takes action.’

Yun Hen lifted his head to look at the inscribed board, his icily resolute expression warming up a little.

At 5:00 PM…

The emperor had arrived at the Qianan Palace, and the feast had officially begun. Water lanterns drifted in the pond underneath a glorious display for fireworks as the princes took turns to propose a toast.

Fang Minghe’s General exited the camp quietly and solemnly like a meandering black snake, slithering toward Yanjing city.

The transference of guards had been completed. Yan Lie, who was seated on his horse, turned around to look at the palace walls, a confident smile appearing on his face. “I’ll stand by the innermost gate. Pei Yuan and her father will take care of the middle one, and you can take this outermost gate,” he ordered Yan Jingchen.

Yan Jingchen bowed. Before he moved a few steps forward and turned around again, Yan Lie warned him worriedly, “Your gate’s the most crucial one. You have to guard it well. I can’t take the fall for you if you spoil the prince’s plan.”

“Don’t worry, Father. I know how important this is,” Yan Jingchen reassured him. Upon his father’s departure, he lifted his head up and exhaled.

A man in light-colored robe emerged from the darkness in front of him. He moved with poise. As Yan Jingchen was about to call out for him, the man’s sleeves dropped, and a corner of a jade green tablet appeared in his palm.

Yan Jingchen swept his gaze toward and waved at a guard, who then opened the gate.

The man smirked and entered. When he passed Yan Jingchen’s side, a faint, exotic fragrance spread.

Yan Jingchen’s eyes followed the man’s movement, and it was when the latter’s back view was revealed that the former realized he hadn’t seen the man’s face as he had been too distracted by his graceful bearing.

After pondering for some time, Yan Jingchen turned his head around. In the process, his gaze fell upon an object on the ground.

It was a white, finger-length strand of hair.

Yan Jingchen pinched it up, a strange expression forming on his face.

…

At the same time, in the Xin Palace’s garrison room…

Inside the Xin Palace’s garrison room, Meng Fuyao was glancing at the scholarly-looking man before her, somewhat flabbergasted. She couldn’t believe that Yun Chi, the master of the Yun Family and also the man who had continuously been suppressed by the Taiyuan imperial household, was actually a refined and delicate man.

Yun Chi remained deep in thought, considering the bold suggestion Meng Fuyao had offered. He knew that the Xin Palace would be surrounded at night but dared not make any move since the situation was still unclear. As a senior politician of the Taiyuan court, initiating an attack first would carry severe consequences. Even as someone who was calm and collected, Meng Fuyao’s idea left sweat beads dripping down from his forehead.

Meng Fuyao smiled carelessly and poured a cup of tea for herself, crossing her legs and singing a small tune.

“Money’s always running out, running out… counting them few dollar bills, claiming it’s okay, but it’s not really that way…”

Upon finishing up her improvised version of A Heart Too Soft, she went on to sing an improvised version of A Smiling Face.

“Always thinking about you, thinking about you counting them bills by my side, but… but I, don’t know what’s left in your pocket, but… but I, still believe, a diamond ring’s nothing. It’s in the books, money…”

Yun Hen and Yun Chi stared at her with their mouths wide open. How absurd must this girl be, having the mood to sing such nonsense when a storm was approaching, and danger was knocking on the door?

Meng Fuyao was getting impatient. She slammed her hand on the table and asked, “What are you waiting for?”

Yun Chi revealed a bitter smile. “Miss Meng, this, this…” he stuttered, unable to even speak of the word revolt. He answered ambiguously, “I do have some men, and they can create a little episode outside the Qianan Palace, but this is a serious matter…”

“Very good.” Meng Fuyao raised her head and downed her tea before standing up. “The bigger the episode, the better, or there won’t be a need for you to show yourself,” she added, scanning her surroundings. “I heard that before its destruction, Yi Nation had built a lot of hidden underground rooms. I’ve already seen one, and I would like to see another one.”

The next moment, Meng Fuyao slammed her teacup heavily onto the table.

Kacha–

The table sank downward a little, but upon closer inspection, it was the ground beneath it that had sunken. She smiled and ignored the shocked expression on Yun Chi’s face. Then, she lifted her leg and stomped, causing the floor to split open and reveal a hidden door.

“Bring all your guards and people from the Xin Palace in, and then burn this cold palace down,” Meng Fuyao ordered bluntly. “Everything gets more convenient when a fire starts.”

“Arson?” Yun Chi exclaimed, his eyelid twitching. “It’s an abominable crime!”

“Now I understand why you’ve been losing power, bit by bit.” Meng Fuyao looked at him mockingly. “You think too much and do too little. Don’t you understand that the concept of the winner takes all? If Prince Qi kills the crown prince, the Yun Family will be faulted and criminalized too. If the crown prince takes Prince Qi down, the arsonists and schemers will only be the Yan Family’s army. What has it got to do with you if that’s the case?”

A subtle change took over Yun Chi’s face. Yun Hen was already halfway out the door at that point.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ll get people to start the fire,” replied Yun Hen, without turning back. “Not just here but elsewhere too,” he continued coldly.

“You!”

“Starting a fire here might not alarm the crown prince since the Xin Palace is unfrequented. Plus, there are so many people out there so the fire would be extinguished in no time,” explained Yun Hen in a determined tone. “Father is an old minister of Yi Nation and holds the biggest secret of the imperial family. Why aren’t you taking the map of the hidden passages out, Father?”

“That was bestowed to me by the previous emperor and is not to be used unless the palace is about to collapse or if the emperor is facing a difficult time,” insisted Yun Chi, rushing over to Yun Hen’s side. “I’ve sworn, with my blood, to keep my word.”

Yun Hen turned around, his sleeves shifting slightly.

“What bullcrap pledge,” Meng Fuyao started before anything else. “To think you’re a political figure… Don’t you know that pledges are nonsense that politicians spout?” she questioned, walking over to his side with her hands behind her back. Suddenly, she reached a hand out and smashed a teapot onto his head.

Amid the clatter, Yun Chi fell to the floor, and Meng Fuyao slapped her hands together. “Very good. That was a very cooperative fall.”

Startled but not angry, Yun Hen sighed softly. “Was that necessary?”

Meng Fuyao pursed her lips, shaking her head. “Were you planning to be the one to knock your loyal and rigid adoptive father down and then carry the sin and guilt of being an unfilial son? Would that be worth it? It’s better if I do it instead since I’m an outsider.”

Yun Hen remained silent as Meng Fuyao leaned over Yun Chi’s body to search for something. A few seconds later, Meng Fuyao retrieved a piece of cotton cloth. After opening it up, she let out cold, consecutive laughs. “He’s actually carrying the map on him. Do you dare say he’s really against our wild plan?”

Yun Hen turned his head, clearly unwilling to answer her question, which frustrated Meng Fuyao the more she thought about it. She did not mind helping people but hated when they saw her as a fool to be taken advantage of. It was obvious that Yun Chi, that sly old man, had the same sentiments but acted all reluctant to provoke his hot-headed son to make a move, seize the secret map and plot a rebellion on his behalf. If that was the case, he could easily shirk responsibility and turn his unfilial adoptive son into a scapegoat.

Yun Hen knew that very well but pretended not to. He was even ready to carry all the blame, which utterly annoyed Fu Yao.

Because she was in a bad mood, she had purposefully chosen the brass teapot as her assault weapon. Her inner energy had been disabled, but her external strength remained, which meant that her excessively forceful strike would most probably result in Yun Chi suffering from a cerebral concussion.

‘It’s best you turn into a fool, you cheap, old man,’ thought Meng Fuyao viciously.