The teahouse was still noisy. Everything seemed normal.

The storyteller on stage offered a smooth, vivid, and inspiring tale.

The listeners cheered repeatedly, growing more eager for what came next.

But none of this seemed to concern the two gentlemen upstairs.

The tea turned cold.

Chen Changsheng let out a long breath. Coming back to himself, he asked, “How did he die?”

Zhong Zhengyuan replied, “He entered the palace last night at midnight to submit a memorial. When he left the palace… he couldn’t bear it anymore and collapsed at the Meridian Gate…”

Chen Changsheng twirled the teacup in his hand, lost in thought for a moment.

“Just like that…”

Chen Changsheng didn’t quite understand. He muttered, “He wouldn’t have wanted to die.”

Zhong Zhengyuan said, “Life is fragile, Mr. Chen. You should know that.”

Chen Changsheng opened his mouth but couldn’t find the words.

He still didn’t believe Liu Huaizhang would willingly die like this.

Seeing Chen Changsheng stand up, Zhong Zhengyuan paused. “Where are you going, Mr. Chen?”

Chen Changsheng headed for the exit without looking back.

“To get the reason.”

Zhong Zhengyuan blinked. “What reason?”

“He shouldn’t have died last night.”

Chen Changsheng said that sentence and then left the teahouse.

Zhong Zhengyuan stood frozen by the table, deeply puzzled.

What did that mean…

Shouldn’t have died last night?

Chen Changsheng felt upset because Liu Huaizhang had missed two meetings without explanation, and because Liu Huaizhang had died so suddenly and mysteriously.

They had made plans just yesterday. And now he was gone by night.

When Liu Huaizhang stood before Chen Changsheng, how could Chen not see that it was his time to die?

Chen Changsheng frowned slightly and walked quickly towards the Imperial Palace.

Palace guards stood watch at the Meridian Gate. Chen Changsheng used a small spell to slip past all eyes and enter the palace.

…

The deep palace felt as cold and quiet as ever.

Every corner was strictly neat and orderly, with nothing out of place. These rules had crushed the spirits of countless people.

Cough… Cough…

A hacking cough echoed through the bedchamber.

Lying on the Dragon Bed, the Emperor of Great Jing had streaks of white in his hair, looking remarkably old. Yet this ruler was actually only in his prime years. It was just the burdens of recent years that had seared his hair white.

“Attendants!”

Yan Xun gasped for breath. “Water… bring me water.”

But after his command, there was no response at all.

Yan Xun, lying on the Dragon Bed, coughed and pushed himself upright.

“Where has everyone gone!?”

Receiving no answer in his chambers, Yan Xun grew visibly angry.

He swept his gaze around the room… and froze where he sat.

“You…”

Yan Xun jolted upright.

He hadn’t noticed when it happened, but a stranger wearing blue robes was now inside the bedchamber.

That Green-Robed Gentleman sat calmly in a chair nearby. He was reading a memorial.

Yan Xun watched as the man paid him no mind. He got off the Dragon Bed. Coughing once, he demanded, “Who are you?”

Chen Changsheng finally looked up. “Would Imperial Majesty wait a moment? I am still reading this memorial.”

Yan Xun frowned, but held back his anger. He sat nearby as the gentleman suggested.

This sovereign, who had ruled for over thirty years, showed the composure befitting his station.

Seeing that, Chen Changsheng returned to reading the memorial.

Several words were smudged; clearly amended in haste, with no time to rewrite it properly before submission.

The memorial itself put forth only two points.

First, it admonished His Majesty, urging him to restore the laws and discipline enforced by the previous Emperor – to cleanse corrupt officials in the Imperial Court and soothe public rage among the common people. Second, regarding the war on the Northern Frontier, it implored His Majesty to swallow his pride and seek help from the Jianghu people of Great Jing – only then could they hope to win.

Every word spoke of desperate concern for the nation.

Chen Changsheng murmured, “No wonder…”

Suddenly, he understood why Liu Huaizhang had chosen death.

He carefully folded the paper and slid it back into the memorial folder.

Yan Xun spoke up. “Finished now?”

“Hmm.”

Chen Changsheng turned to Yan Xun. “I have some questions for Imperial Majesty.”

Yan Xun replied calmly, “Speak.”

Chen Changsheng asked, “Does Imperial Majesty believe restoring Emperor Patriarch’s laws—upholding strict discipline, punishing corrupt officials severely—is necessary?”

Yan Xun thought for a moment. “Once an official, greed is inevitable. Among those navigating Imperial Court politics, few have clean hands. If we punish harshly, the entire court quakes in fear. Who will focus on their duties then? Distribute light punishment instead.”

“And if they do not repent?” Chen pressed.

Yan Xun fell silent. Ever since that night—when officials shielded each other and he had been forced to flee Shangjing—he knew he had erred. He simply refused to accept it.

Because he was the Emperor. He could not believe his own judgment faulty.

Seeing no answer, Chen Changsheng continued, “Set that aside for now. Consider the war on the Northern Frontier. The Northern Desert and Northern Xiang assault Great Jing from the south. The Northern Frontier stands on the brink.”

“There is one strategy left: call upon Great Jing’s Jianghu people to defend our mountains and rivers. Victory is still possible. It only requires Imperial Majesty to swallow his pride and beg the Jianghu for help. What does His Majesty think?”

This time, Yan Xun did not hesitate. He retorted with disgust.

“Nonsense!”

“Since ancient times, Jianghu martial artists violate the law! Great Jing has three hundred thousand troops! The Northern Frontier will not fall! Why beg help from Jianghu criminals?”

Chen Changsheng paused. “So… in Imperial Majesty’s eyes, Jianghu martial artists are criminals?”

“Are they not?”

Yan Xun sneered. “They show no respect for the law! They ravage Great Jing! They are criminals!”

“Disrespect for the law isn’t limited to the Jianghu. Imperial Court officials do the same,” Chen Changsheng observed. “Yet Imperial Majesty reacts much more strongly when speaking of the Jianghu. Is it only because you believe them to be criminals?”

Yan Xun scowled, his shame turning to anger at the truth laid bare.

Seeing the absurdity of it, Chen no longer pressed the matter.

Full of noble talk.

But at its core? Excessive pride preventing him from losing face.

Chen Changsheng picked up the memorial again. “Did Imperial Majesty ever read this memorial?”

Yan Xun glanced at it. “No. I have not.”

Chen Changsheng paused. “Lord Liu walked miles through the night yesterday to bring this to the palace. If you never read it… did you refuse to see him?”

Yan Xun briefly looked away. No answer.

Chen Changsheng understood. “Why refuse to see him?”

Yan Xun studied the Green-Robed Gentleman. He felt wary of this sudden intruder, but held no fear.

His brow furrowed. “It was past midnight. I told him to leave the memorial. Return tomorrow.”

Chen continued, “Did Imperial Majesty know that Lord Liu died at the Meridian Gate?”

Yan Xun lifted his chin, the Emperor’s pride untouched. He didn’t answer, but he had.

He knew Liu Huaizhang died at the Meridian Gate. And he still hadn’t read the memorial.

Chen Changsheng now had the full measure.

He drew a long breath, asking nothing further. He simply said:

“I understand.”