Su Jiong slowly rose from his sleep, his heavy eyelids weighed down by the fatigue of countless nights.
The air still carried the cool taste of the morning.
A gentle breeze drifted through the half-open window, as if attempting to pull him from his deep slumber. He let out a long sigh and placed a hand over his half-open eyes. A yawn escaped him, its sound filling the silence of the room—a yawn that felt more like his muscles protesting against wakefulness rather than a relief from exhaustion.
He pushed aside the blanket that lay over his legs like a shield and set his feet upon the cold, hard floor. The chill of the ground, like a sharp nudge, summoned him fully into the waking world. His throat burned with thirst, compelling him to take his first steps toward the water jar.
With a motion that conveyed both weariness and need, he lifted the jar and drank deeply. As the water flowed smoothly down his throat, it soothed the dryness and brought a faint freshness to his senses.
He walked slowly around the room. The soft morning light filtering through the window painted patterns of light and shadow upon the walls and objects within. He reached the small table near the window and filled a bowl with water. Plunging his hands into the cool liquid, he splashed it onto his face; the droplets slid over his skin like dewdrops upon petals.
Without hesitation, he shed his white sleeping robe. A lean, muscular frame was revealed—one honed through years of training and battle.
With a measured grace, he picked up his formal attire: a black tunic as dark as starless nights, fitted trousers, a firm belt, and boots that embodied both power and dignity. The garments embraced him like a soft yet unyielding armor.
He gathered his long, sleek hair, which cascaded over his shoulders like a black tide, and secured it with an ornamental clasp atop his head.
His gaze fell upon the small mirror in the room; the reflection staring back at him bore a sharp and masculine visage, with deep, piercing eyes that revealed the spirit of a twenty-four-year-old man.
His straight nose and smooth skin lent him a youthfulness beyond his years.
Taking a deep breath, he allowed the morning breeze to sweep away the weight of past days from his chest. He reached for the red cloth bracelet he had removed from his wrist the night before and carefully tied it back on. For a brief moment, he stared at It—a relic from a distant past, harboring secrets that blurred the line between love and hatred in Su Jiong's heart.
He took up his sword. With firm steps, he approached the wooden door of his chamber and pushed it open with deliberate ease. Stepping into the vast corridor, he found the wooden walls bathed in the golden glow of morning light. At the far end of the passage, the grand and spacious courtyard of the estate stretched before him.
Su Jiong walked toward his mother's chamber. The servants, moving like silent shadows, halted at his sight. Each one bowed respectfully and greeted him with a hushed "Good morning," as if bidding farewell to a star in the sky. Yet, Su Jiong, his gaze fixed as though looking at distant horizons, passed them by without a word.
His thoughts were tangled like knotted threads, obstructing his peace. Anxiety cast a heavy shadow over his heart.
Su Jiong was worried—worried about a decision that could plunge the Su family into ruin. Yet, he allowed no doubt to creep in. He was determined to stand against the officials seeking to overthrow Prince Xiaoyan. The prince's disciplinary punishment must not become a disgraceful stain on the history of the Su family.
With this choice, Su Jiong was inevitably pitting himself against the nation's most powerful figures. But as a member of the Su family, he could not turn a blind eye to such injustice and simply watch. To him, silence was betrayal—and he would never betray.
The disciplinary ceremony was set to take place at precisely nine o'clock. Prince Xiaoyan was to receive a hundred lashes as punishment for interfering in political affairs. But this was merely an excuse—an excuse to suppress the prince's influence and strip him of his credibility among the nobility.
Before making his decision, Su Jiong had weighed every possibility. He knew well that preventing the execution of the sentence would be seen as an act of defiance against His Majesty—an act that could be interpreted as rebellion, or even treason.
Still, the support of his uncle, Lord Ming Zhou, granted him some reassurance. At the very least, he could be certain he wouldn't be executed on the spot. Yet, there were no guarantees.
Along the way, he noticed a large cart that had just entered the estate. Its wheels carried a mysterious load concealed beneath a thick cloth. He paused, curiosity flickering in his eyes. Approaching the cart, he turned to one of the passing servants and asked, "Aku… what is this cart for?"
The young boy, frail and childlike in appearance, lowered his head respectfully and replied, "Young Master, these are the items Lady Mother has prepared for your brother, Master Su Jin's birthday celebration. More carts will be arriving soon."
A warm smile spread across Su Jiong's face, slightly lifting his cheeks. He had forgotten that his brother's birthday was near; his mind had been too preoccupied with the prince's predicament.
Lowering his gaze, he continued on his way. The sunlight slowly stretched across the estate's walls, while shadows swiftly retreated into the cracks. Above Su Jiong, the vast and boundless sky painted a picture of serenity and security.
Su Jiong finally arrived at his mother's chamber, Lady Hebin. The doors, made of precious wood, were adorned with carvings of celestial birds. Inside, the servants bustled like the wind, each engaged in their tasks with practiced precision.
Hidden from all eyes, Su Jiong stood in the shadow of one of the marble columns of the hall, like a silent specter lurking in the darkness. His eyes, as deep as endless nights, gleamed in the heavy silence. The air was thick with the scent of sandalwood, and the flickering torchlight cast intertwining shadows on the gilded walls. Amid this ominous stillness, Lady Hebin's furious voice rang out like a storm trapped within walls of stone and gold:
"One trouble after another! I've had enough! As if the attempt on my brother Ming Zhou's life wasn't enough, now they want to strip Prince Xiaoyan of power too! That foolish king—how can he allow his own child to be humiliated like this?!"
Lady Liu, whose poise and composure befitted a true confidante of a great lady, gently pressed Lady Hebin's shoulders with a maternal calm, whispering, "You are right, my lady. Truly! They have gone too far!"
Her voice was soft and delicate, like a breeze that sets dry leaves dancing without letting them fall. Yet her words, though gentle, were a silent affirmation of her mistress's inner rage.
Lady Hebin, fury blazing in her eyes, continued with a tone so bitter it could melt stone, "If he doesn't want Ayao to be his heir, fine! Let him name whoever he pleases! But he has no right to humiliate my nephew like this! Ayao is not alone! If his mother were alive, would they dare treat him this way?!"
From the darkness, Su Jiong watched, a faint smile playing on his lips—one that carried more sorrow than joy.
Mother, how naïve you are. He thought. Even if Aunt were alive, they would never let Su Yao take power. They will never allow a prince of Guosu to rule.
A moment later, he stepped out of the shadows.
The hall, adorned with silk carpets, intricately carved chests, and towering columns that seemed to carry the secrets of centuries, unfolded before his eyes. In a quiet voice, he said:
"Good morning, Mother."
That voice, like the sound of deliverance to a prisoner in chains, made Lady Hebin rise to her feet. The fury that had just moments ago flushed her face now gave way to a glimmer of hope. As though she had finally found something lost, she rushed toward her son and pulled him into a tight embrace.
"Ajiong! You're finally here! I am burning with rage! I can't endure this any longer—I simply can't!"
Su Jiong took his mother's delicate, trembling hands in his own and gently caressed them.
A soft smile graced his lips—calm and serene, like the tranquility of dawn after a stormy night.
In that moment, his stern and authoritative face transformed into a childlike innocence, as if, in his mother's embrace, he could forget the burdens of the world.
"Mother, please stay calm. The prince trusts both you and Uncle. Don't let this anger and sorrow consume you. If, heaven forbid, something happens to you, I won't be able to face the prince."
Lady Hebin, the flames of anger now dimmed in her heart, looked into her son's eyes. That gaze brought back memories of the days when she had first held his tiny hand and walked beside him.
Her eyes, filled with a mother's love—both soothing and resolute—held an unshakable strength. Her face, with kohl-lined eyes gleaming, lips as red as blood, and skin radiant like moonlight, made her a vision of beauty and power.
The two sat side by side on a wooden couch, enveloped in a silence laced with warmth and intimacy.
Despite the grandeur of the room, it carried the comforting air of a private family conversation.
With a voice both soft and commanding, Lady Hebin spoke:
"My son, I heard that the prince's disciplinary punishment is to take place this morning. My heart aches for Ayao… How will he endure the pain of so many lashes?! His Majesty has not even responded to my letters, nor has he agreed to see me! I truly don't know what to do."
Su Jiong offered a faint, bitter smile—one that carried a truth too heavy to be comforting.
"It won't come to that. Don't worry, Mother."
Lady Hebin's eyes gleamed with curiosity. "What do you mean?!"
With a solemn tone, Su Jiong uttered words that struck his mother's heart like a hammer:
"I won't let them torture Ayao to the brink of death!"
Lady Hebin's heart sank instantly, a deep anxiety settling in her eyes.
With trembling concern, she asked, "What are you planning to do, Ajiong?! You're scaring me!"
Su Jiong's lips curved into a faint smile, yet behind his gaze lay a heavy silence.
"I'm going to put an end to this ridiculous spectacle. I cannot allow them to ruin Ayao's reputation and block his path to the throne."
With trembling hands, Lady Hebin grasped her son's tightly, fear stark In her gaze—as if she could already see the dark future awaiting him. In a trembling voice, she pleaded,
"But Ajiong, this is the Kings decree! If you stand against it, your life will be In danger!"
Su Jiong gently parted his lips, a barely-there smile lingering as he nodded reassuringly.
"Mother, don't worry. My life is not in danger. Trust me."
Lady Hebin took a shaky breath and asked in a trembling voice, "What do you mean? You must tell me what you're planning!"
Su Jiong gently shook his head. "Now is not the time. If I try to explain, a thousand questions will flood your mind. Our time Is limited. I must leave—I need to reach the palace as soon as possible."
Tears welled up in Lady Hebin's eyes. She trembled with sorrow, as helpless as a lost child.
"Ajiong… I beg you, take care of yourself. Losing your father was enough to last me a lifetime—I cannot bear to lose you too!"
Su Jiong quietly pulled his mother into his embrace, wrapping his strong arms around her frail and delicate frame. He patted her shoulder gently and whispered near her ear,
"I won't die so easily, don't worry, Mother. At Su Jin's birthday feast, we'll be together—we'll eat, drink, and celebrate."
Hearing these words, a deep sense of calm settled in Lady Hebin's heart. She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand, took a small step back, and, with a voice still unsteady yet filled with hope, said, "I'll be waiting for you... Take care of yourself, my son."
Su Jiong nodded. "Yes, Mother."
Then, he rose to his feet. After bowing respectfully, he spoke in a steady, measured tone, "With your permission, I'll take my leave."
Lady Hebin slowly nodded, but her gaze, bright with fear and worry, remained fixed on the distant, unknown horizon.
Su Jiong turned to Lady Liu and said, "Please look after my mother."
Lady Liu bowed slightly and responded with a humble smile, "Yes, young master."
Su Jiong stepped out of the room. His footsteps landed on the ground without hesitation. There was neither fear nor uncertainty In his stride.
Taking a deep breath, he made his way toward the eastern courtyard of the estate, where clusters of peonies and primroses bloomed from the earth—the very flowers his mother had planted with her own hands. Their sweet fragrance filled the morning air.
He quickly summoned one of the attendants and ordered firmly, "Prepare my horse!"
Without a backward glance, he strode toward the gate. Yet, the moment he stepped beyond the threshold, shadows lay in wait for him.
Two young men stood before him like sentinels—one tall and imposing, with broad shoulders and sharp, chiseled features; the other shorter, with a muscular build and a face as If carved from stone.
Su Jiong halted, his expression betraying no surprise. His gaze, keen and searching, swept over them before he spoke, his voice like tempered steel, "What are you doing here?"
The tall man took a few steps forward and bowed slightly before saying, "Brother Su, we've been waiting for you."
It was Ming Yuan—his cousin, the eldest son of Lord Ming Zhou. A young man whose skin was as pale as snow and whose gaze was as sharp as a wolf's.
A faint smile played on his lips—one that seemed to conceal more than it revealed. In his eyes, there flickered a spark of discontent… and an unspoken challenge.
In contrast, Jue Yan— the young man who stood next to Ming Yuan— appeared more humble. Without taking a step, he remained where he was and, from that distance, bowed respectfully to Su Jiong.
Both were officers of the Inspection Bureau, just like Su Jiong. Their clothes were identical— the same shirt, the same robe, the same belt and trousers. But in terms of hierarchy, Su Jiong was superior to them. He was two years older, far more serious, decisive, and colder than they were. Even towards Ming Yuan, who was a close relative and a cherished ward of Lady Hebin, Su Jiong showed a ruthless and strict demeanor.
Perhaps that was why Ming Yuan always looked at him with a cautious and calculated gaze.
Jue Yan, with his deep, firm, and clear voice, said respectfully, "Brother… please allow us to accompany you!" His tone was assertive— neither obsequious nor weak.
Su Jiong paused for a moment. Then, with a deep frown, he asked, "Who told you to come here?!"
Ming Yuan answered, "We've been watching you for a long time. From your words and actions, we understood that you were planning something. So, we came to accompany you."
Su Jiong, his eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed, took a step back. His hands, which rested on the hilt of his sword, gradually tightened. He said, "But I didn't want you to accompany me!"
Ming Yuan lowered his head and turned his gaze away from Su Jiong's scarred face. It seemed as though he carried a heavy burden in his heart and didn't wish to speak any further. But Jue Yan, with his usual calmness, stepped forward. A soft smile appeared on his lips. His voice carried a mild warmth, like a small flame flickering above a cold night: "Yes, you didn't want us to come, but my brother Ming and I have decided otherwise. Our path is the same as yours, so we must come."
Su Jiong exhaled heavily and, with a tone that held no room for patience, said, "it would be in your best interest to leave right now, or I'll force you to go back! You know well enough that I am not a patient person, so before things get worse, leave!"
However, Jue Yan, instead of retreating, took another step forward and stood next to Ming Yuan. His gaze locked directly with Su Jiong's eyes. With a firm tone, he said, "We've been waiting for you here since dawn. Please, don't oppose us! We've come to fulfill our duty to the prince."
Su Jiong, his eyes burning with anger, emitted a shadow of threat in his movements. With a voice that trembled slightly with fury, he said, "Proving loyalty doesn't mean sacrificing your life. Don't be foolish! Step aside, I need to leave!"
But Jue Yan quickly responded, this time with a firmer tone: "If proving loyalty doesn't mean sacrificing one's life, then why do you want to place yourself in front of the prince's disciplinary ceremony?!"
"My situation is different from yours!" Su Jiong replied.
"How is it different? We're all officers in the inspection department! Your family and Officer Ming are trusted by His Majesty. Most importantly, both you and Officer Ming are blood relatives of the prince! If that's not enough reason, then what could be?"
Su Jiong remained silent. His silence wasn't out of acceptance but frustration. His gaze wandered around, as if searching for an escape. Finally, he turned his eyes toward Ming Yuan and, with a voice tinged with exhaustion, said, "Ming Yuan, you're the only son of Uncle Ming Zhou. You have heavy responsibilities on your shoulders. How can you make such a decision and risk your family's reputation?!"
Eventually, Ming Yuan broke his silence. The words that left his lips, like a cold breeze, swirled through the air: "Brother, in fact, my father himself sent me and encouraged me to come. If it weren't for his insistence, I might never have made this decision."
Su Jiong suddenly felt the ground beneath his feet tremble. His face tightened, and a storm of thoughts whirled in his mind. He thought to himself, "Damn it! This is truly unbearable!"
But suddenly, a thought crossed his mind. He rushed toward Ming Yuan. His eyes blinked rapidly, and his voice carried a sense of urgency: "Ming Yuan, tell me, does Uncle Ming Zhou have plans of his own?!"
No answer came. He was met only with a cold, piercing look from Ming Yuan. That gaze was a silent response, one that carried more meaning than a thousand words. Jue Yan gently placed his hand on Su Jiong's shoulder and, in a friendly tone, said: "Young master, don't resist any longer. Let us accompany you."
Su Jiong fell silent. An internal battle raged within him; the desire to leave clashed with the unwilling acceptance of this unexpected company. He didn't want anyone accompanying him, but his mind told him that Jue Yan and Ming Yuan's presence could be useful. He knew that entering the palace might involve rigorous inspections, and they would certainly not allow him to carry his sword. He thought to himself, "Since they insist, it doesn't matter. Let them come."
With a deep sigh, he raised his head and said, "Alright! If you want to come, then come. But stay alert, understood?!"
Jue Yan's face lit up with satisfaction, and Ming Yuan gave him a brief glance.
With measured movements, both lowered their heads. A brief silence lingered in the air, which was suddenly broken by the sound of hooves striking the cobblestone street, shattering the stillness.
From the other side of the pathway, a horse as white as snow appeared; tall, with a mane flowing in the wind, and a form that gleamed like a statue of power and beauty.
The attendant, holding the reins of the horse, stepped carefully, as if fearing the creature might grow displeased with him. His gaze was fixed on the ground, but his voice carried both respect and fear:
"My lord, I have brought your horse."
Su Jiong, whose face betrayed no sign of patience, without looking at the attendant, sharply replied, "You took too long!"
The servant Immediately bowed deeply.
"My apologies, young master."
But Su Jiong paid no further attention. Without hesitation, he leaped onto the horse's back. He took the reins firmly In hand, straightened his posture, and cast a penetrating gaze down the street. Then, without pausing for a moment, he ordered,
"If you want to come, move quickly. We've already wasted too much time."
Ming Yuan and Jue Yan, as though they had been waiting for this command, immediately rushed to their own horses. Their steeds—one black, the other brown—were tethered under the shade of a small shrub. Both mounted their horses.
The horses moved forward at a steady pace. Their hooves, striking the cobblestones, created a rhythmic "clip-clop" that filled the air.
Su Jiong cast a brief glance at the two of them but said nothing. He merely nudged his horse's flank slightly. Suddenly, the white steed, like a lightning bolt unleashed into the night sky, surged into motion. And the three of them set off toward the palace.
Author's Note:
Hello, friends! I hope you're all doing well!
Before you dive into the next part of the story, I wanted to clarify a few things so you don't get confused.
The story you're reading follows two narrative lines:
1. The main storyline, where events are interconnected like links in a chain, driving the plot forward.
2. A series of short stories at the end of each chapter, each introducing a specific or new topic.
Now, what's the difference between the two?
The main narrative is the core of the story Itself—everything originates from this thread.
The short stories, on the other hand, serve as complementary pieces that expand on details that couldn't be fully explained in the main plot.
For example, you might find yourself with a lot of questions while reading the main story or feel that certain parts lack details. That's where the short stories come in—they help fill in those gaps and answer many of your questions.
Also, since the overall story is quite vast, including every single detail in the main narrative would make it overly heavy and complex. Some characters have long backstories that, if fully explored within the main plot, might divert us from the central storyline. So, these short stories help you get to know the characters better while keeping the main narrative smooth and engaging.
Additionally, topics like political and military affairs or deeper analyses that might not fit naturally within the main text are covered in these separate sections. This way, you get to experience the atmosphere of the characters while staying informed about the unfolding events.
That's all for now! If there's anything else, I'll be sure to share it with you later.
By the way, I'd really appreciate your support.
Enjoy the story and happy reading!
Sleeping peacefully – a simple wish, yet unattainable!
No one knew that for Su Jiong, sleeping was like a nightly battle. On the surface, everyone assumed he was someone who spent long hours in bed, but the truth was far from this foolish belief.
Every night, as the lantern lights of the residence gradually faded and a heavy silence enveloped everything, Su Jiong would lie on his bed, eyelids heavy but his mind more awake than ever. No matter how much he closed his eyes, no matter how calmly he breathed, the sweet sleep others enjoyed would elude him.
He spent long hours in silence, sometimes tossing and turning, sometimes getting up restlessly and walking aimlessly around the room. When despair set in, he would fix his gaze on an unknown point in the darkness, as though searching for an elusive answer deep within those shadows. But neither the darkness nor the exhaustion showed him any mercy. In the end, if he was lucky, he might drift off for three or four hours, but even that sleep was fragmented and filled with unrest.
Compared to his brother, Su Jin, who would fall Into a winter bear-like slumber, sometimes sleeping for twelve hours as if in a coma, his situation seemed pitiful. Sometimes, when he would see his brother's peaceful, carefree face in sleep, he felt as if fate was playing a cruel joke on him.
Su Jiong had tried numerous remedies. First, he sought the help of skilled physicians in the city, but their bitter medicines and strange prescriptions only numbed his body, never calming his restless mind. When he saw no benefit from medicine, he took a risk and turned to masters of spiritual cultivation – though their methods were illegal – those who claimed to possess the arts to bring peace to both mind and body. But none of them could untangle his problem.
No one truly knew where his issue stemmed from. Some guessed that the relentless pressures of life had caused his insomnia. Others whispered that he still mourned his father's death, and this grief had seeped into his dreams. A few even dared to say that he had lost his mind, and his sleeplessness was nothing but a sign of madness.
But the one thing Su Jiong was certain of was this bitter truth: people's tongues would never cease their judgment.
So, he soon decided not to speak of it to anyone. Why bother? Whatever he said would soon return to his ears with exaggerated, mythical embellishments.
And it was at this very moment that his improvement began. There were no more midnight walks. The sound of his shadowy movements no longer startled the servants. He would go to his room precisely at ten o'clock in the evening and wake up at five o'clock in the morning. Everyone thought he had finally recovered.
But the truth was that he had only learned how to pretend.
Su Jiong had learned how to lie still in bed without sleeping, to keep his body motionless, just like the dead, even when his mind was filled with turmoil. The only reason he had given in was the fear that had taken root in his heart – the fear that his name, as the son of a noble family, would become a symbol of weakness and illness among the people.
In truth, he was still the same Su Jiong who, every night, sought a way to escape this endless nightmare in silence and solitude.
An assassination attempt on a general?! In such a manner?! Who would believe that behind this assassination plot stood an amateur assassin?
The relationship between Ming Zhou's uncle and Su Jiong had always remained one of mutual respect. It could be said that the distance between them, more than being created by Ming Zhou, was created by Su Jiong. He never saw his uncle as someone close to him, not because of a bitter incident or a hidden secret, but because of something intangible, an ambiguous and deep-rooted feeling, that prevented any emotional bond from forming between them. However, respect and trust were two inseparable elements in the relationship between this uncle and nephew.
But this relationship was shaken one fateful night. A night when three attackers, dressed entirely in black with faces hidden behind masks, lay in ambush in the darkness. Silent shadows that were meant to strike down the general without any warning.
However, Ming Zhou, a man who had fought in battlefields for years, did not need light to perceive this danger. He immediately realized that although these attackers seemed deadly, they were not skilled. Their strikes were raw and clumsy, their movements lacked the grace of a true warrior. To a man who had lived amidst swords and blood since his youth, these three amateur assassins were no threat. The battle was brief and merciless.
The first attacker, before having a chance for a second strike, was brought down with a swift blow. The second, attempting to flee, was struck down by the general's blade. The third, perhaps having a fleeting hope of victory, breathed his last breath in the shadows.
However, what mattered was not the death of these three attackers, but the message that this assassination attempt concealed. Ming Zhou didn't need long to realize that this attack was more than a failed assassination.
His real enemies knew that an experienced general couldn't be taken down by a few inexperienced assassins. Therefore, this attack was not an attempt at murder, but a form of warning. A warning telling him to be cautious, to pay attention to what he was doing, the words he spoke, and the path he had chosen.
And it seemed that this warning had achieved its purpose. For after that night, subtle changes began to take root in Ming Zhou's behavior. It was as if something In his eyes, in his tone, and even In his silences had transformed.
But did this change mean he had accepted the warning? Or was he preparing for a greater confrontation?
No one knew the answer, except Ming Zhou himself.
The Ceremony of Discipline, or Humiliation and Degradation?
In the land of Beichi, there existed an ancient tradition known as the Ceremony of Discipline; a ritual in which nobles and aristocrats who had committed wrongdoing were publicly reproached and humiliated before the eyes of all.
The decree for this discipline was issued according to the command of the king, the verdict of a judge, or the opinion of the family patriarch, and the wrongdoer was inevitably forced to atone for his transgressions in front of the scornful gazes of the courtiers and high-ranking families.
This punishment went beyond a simple reprimand. A person condemned to the Ceremony of Discipline not only faced harsh rebuke but was also forever stripped of his inheritance rights—whether that inheritance was the throne, the leadership of a family, or the chieftainship of a tribe. The ritual marked a clear boundary between glory and downfall; a line that could only be crossed by a single decision—a decision that could either tarnish the name of a family or save it from the stain of disgrace.
Yet what made this ceremony a dreadful nightmare was its execution for Prince Xiaoyan. No one ever imagined that one day, the heir of one of the greatest royal families would be dragged into such a shameful ritual amid a sea of cold and merciless gazes. The sound of heavy drums signaled the beginning of the punishment, and all awaited the fate that would be shaped by law and power.
Ming Yuan, no matter how you consider it, is still related to the First Prince through family ties!
Prince Xiaoyan, the eldest son of the ruler of Beichi, had a family connection to Ming Yuan through his mother, Lady Shi. This bond was formed through Lady Shi's elder sister, who was about twenty years older than her. That woman was one of the late King of Beichi's consorts—Su Jiong's grandfather—by whom she had three sons. However, after Su Jiong's uncle ascended to power, these three princes were exiled from the capital and no longer held any position in the court.
Thus, Ming Yuan had a distant family relation to Prince Xiaoyan through his mother. On the other hand, there was also a direct blood relation between them, as Ming Yuan's late aunt—Lady Hebin's elder sister—was Prince Xiaoyan's mother.
Despite this connection, Ming Yuan and Prince Xiaoyan were never close. The reason for this was their differences in personality and spirit. Not only did they not share similar temperaments or character traits, but they also had no common ground to foster a deep friendship. Nevertheless, Ming Yuan considered himself an ally of Prince Xiaoyan. Just as his father, General Ming Zhou, was a trusted official in the king's court, he too aimed to be one of the First Prince's trusted inner circle In the future.
In fact, Ming Yuan had placed his bets on the First Prince and openly supported him. He knew very well that if the Second or Third Prince rose to power, they would never allow him the chance for growth and progress. Therefore, as the heir of the Ming family, his position depended on the First Prince's success. For this reason, he decided to secure his place from the outset by supporting the First Prince's victory.
I would be very happy if you could join me in expanding this story by sharing your thoughts and questions. Any feedback or suggestions you provide will greatly contribute to the progress of this work. If you're enjoying the story, please add it to your list of favourite and support me. I truly appreciate your support.