Su Jiong and Su Yao walked side by side along the stone corridor. Su Jiong's steps no longer carried their usual force; they were calm and composed, as if he saw no need to assert his authority in front of his cousin.
In this moment, he was merely a member of the Su clan. Su Yao had remained silent since they left the discourse hall. Only once had he turned back without a word, offering a faint smile—one that carried more of a hidden sorrow than any true joy.
Su Jiong wished to speak to him, but when he saw no sign of willingness in Su Yao's demeanor, he chose to remain silent.
Meanwhile, Shang Shanghu marched ahead of them with heavy, resounding steps. The moment they exited the hall, he had overtaken the prince and Su Jiong, positioning himself at the head of a group of black-clad guards—who now surrounded Su Jiong and Su Yao in a protective circle. It was as if, this time, it was his turn to display his authority through the weight of his footsteps.
The path they walked was flanked on both sides by towering walls, divided into square sections by majestic columns. Each section bore a delicately painted scene of Beichi's breathtaking landscapes. Some of these paintings had been freshly restored, their vibrant colors captivating the eyes of any who beheld them, while others, faded and worn, bore the marks of time and longed for a careful hand to restore their former glory.
Su Jiong's gaze suddenly fixed on one of these paintings.
His heartbeat quickened slightly.
That painting was more than just a work of art—it was a symbol of his family's honor. It depicted his father, Lord Su Shen, standing alone against dozens of invaders from the barbarian tribes. His sword was stained crimson with the blood of his enemies, and though his body bore countless wounds, he had fought to his last breath, ultimately perishing on the battlefield.
Su Jiong had been only five years old at the time. He had no clear memory of those distant days, but his mother's tales burned like a fire in his heart, keeping the memory of his father alive deep within his soul.
Noticing the pensive look in Su Jiong's eyes, Su Yao smiled and said, "This painting was made recently. I forgot to tell you."
Still staring at the image, Su Jiong murmured, "How did His Majesty allow such a scene to be painted on the palace walls?"
Su Yao looked at him with curiosity. "What do you mean?"
Su Jiong tore his gaze away from the painting and, with a voice tinged with both anger and doubt, replied, "Do you really not understand what I mean?"
Su Yao fell silent for a moment, then slowed his steps. A look of displeasure appeared on his face, as if something inside him had crumbled in the face of this question. In a quiet but sorrowful voice, he said,
"Ajiong… don't listen to the rumors. My father, no matter what, was Uncle Su's brother."
Su Jiong took a deep breath, as if trying to expel all the doubts and bitterness from his chest. He said, "Alright… it doesn't matter. Let's not talk about it."
But how could it not matter?
How could he say nothing about something that had pierced his heart like a dagger for years? The memories of the past, like an unshakable shadow, came alive in his mind.
Nineteen years ago, when his father, Lord Su Shen, was still alive and the rule of Beichi had not yet been handed over to the king Luoxian, a deadly invasion erupted from the nomadic tribes.
These tribes, lying in wait along the northern borders, unleashed the fires of war with immense force and an insatiable thirst for conquest. A wave of death and destruction swept across the state, and the people of Beichi realized that if no one stood against this storm, nothing of their land would remain.
At that time, Su Shen was a young man in the prime of his power and brilliance. A master of politics, many saw him as the future ruler of Beichi. The people hoped that Su Shen would break the ancient tradition that had long limited the power of the Su clan—a tradition that decreed the chief of the Guosu tribe could not also be the King of Beichi. Many believed that if power were united in his hands, the nation would rise to the splendor of an empire.
But the war dictated a different fate.
The army under Su Shen's command was sent to the battlefield, and victory belonged to Beichi. But the triumph came at a heavy price—Su Shen lost his life. The news of his death turned the sweetness of victory bitter for the people.
And then, the whispers began.
Rumors that, like a slow-burning flame in the darkness, gradually took shape. It was said that Su Shen's younger brother, Lord Su Guang—the current ruler of Beichi—had, through cunning and deception, sent his brother to war and led him to his death.
At first, Su Jiong refused to believe the rumors. But over time, Su Guang's treatment of him and his family turned from indifference to disdain, from coldness to outright oppression, and Su Jiong's doubts slowly turned to certainty.
If the rumors were false, then why did the ruler treat him and his family this way?
Why did he refuse to let Su Jiong near the palace?
Why did he not want any friendship to form between him and his cousin, Su Yao?
That thought, like termites silently devouring wood, had eaten away at Su Jiong's mind and soul.
He had tried time and again to uncover the truth, but no solid evidence had ever surfaced. Yet, doubt had taken root deep within him, refusing to let go.
Suddenly, a shout shattered the silence of the path.
"Commander… Commander!"
Everyone turned. A soldier was sprinting toward them, breathless and flustered. Shang Shanghu spun around, his sharp gaze fixed on the man as he demanded,
"What is it? Why are you shouting like that?!"
The soldier, gasping for air after his frantic run, halted for a moment to steady his breath. Then, his voice still trembling with urgency, he reported,
"Commander… His Highness has entered the palace!"
In an instant, the air shifted.
Upon hearing the news, Su Yao felt his heart skip a beat. He drew in a deep breath, but the weight of what lay ahead pressed heavily on his chest. How was he supposed to face his father? How could he justify Su Jiong's actions? His mind swirled with a thousand thoughts, yet there was no time for reflection.
Shang Shanghu immediately asked,
"From which direction?"
The soldier, still catching his breath, replied,
"The eastern gate."
Shang Shanghu gave a curt nod.
"Very well. You're dismissed."
The soldier gave a brief bow, then turned and hurried away as swiftly as he had come, disappearing from sight.
Shang Shanghu turned to the prince and said,
"My lord, now that His Highness has arrived, there's no need to wait. Please, let us move quickly."
Su Jiong, who had no particular fondness for this meeting, let out a bitter chuckle.
"His Highness has impeccable timing, doesn't he? Just as we were about to head to the main palace, he returns. Fascinating."
Shang Shanghu's sharp, hawk-like eyes immediately fixed on him, radiating silent reproach. His piercing gaze said it all:
"Be quiet!"
Su Yao, too, scolded him In a firm tone.
"Su Jiong, speak less!"
But Su Jiong, who found amusement in playing with words, smirked and replied with a mischievous glint in his eye,
"Brother… Have you noticed? Whenever you're mad at me, you call me by my full name. You say 'Su Jiong'—so fast, so firm. But under normal circumstances, you call me like Mother does. You say 'Ajiong, Ajiong.'"
Su Yao, well-acquainted with his brother's verbal games, responded coolly,
"Yes, I know. And you never call me by my name either. You just talk, or at best, you say 'brother, brother, brother'… Not once have I heard you say 'Yao'… or even 'Su Yao.'"
Su Jiong cast a mischievous glance at him, stepped closer, and whispered Into Su Yao's ear:
"Sorry, Ayao… Ayao… Ayao..."
With a grin born more of playfulness than malice, he repeated the name over and over until Su Yao lost his patience and pushed him away with a light shove to the shoulder.
Their path eventually led them to an impossibly vast courtyard—so expansive that the servants and attendants appeared no more than tiny specks in the distance.
Before them loomed the grand palace, the residence of the King Luoxian. This was the largest estate in the entire Beichi kingdom and one of the most magnificent structures in the northern lands. It resembled an imperial palace more than the dwelling of a mere provincial governor—majestic, brimming with power, and shrouded in secrets hidden behind Its towering doors.
As they passed through the palace's soaring gates, Su Jiong's sharp gaze caught sight of a group of Black Guard soldiers standing at the far end of the courtyard. They were engaged in conversation with a figure whose face, at first, remained indistinct.
Su Jiong's eyes lingered on the shadowed face of the man. The more he focused, the clearer the features became—Jie Fei's deputy. The very man who had ordered him to flog Su Yao with his own hands.
The smoldering embers of rage within his chest suddenly burst into flame. He knew that the command had come directly from the king, yet something within him refused to accept It. Until now, he had never had any particular quarrel with Jie Fei—but now… now he had a reason to bear a deep grudge against him.
It wasn't long before Shang Shanghu and Prince Xiaoyan also noticed Jie Fei's presence. Yet Jie Fei, engrossed in his serious and lengthy discussion with his subordinates, did not even turn his head to acknowledge their arrival.
Su Jiong thought to himself:
"Maybe he's ignoring us on purpose!"
To others, such a suspicion might have seemed overly paranoid, but to Su Jiong, it made perfect sense. As far as he was concerned, men like these were capable of anything. Ignoring them? That was the least of their misdeeds.
Upon reaching the palace's massive steps, Shang Shanghu took a step back and, in a firm voice, commanded the guards:
"Wait here!"
With broad chests and expressionless faces, the guards stood in place like lifeless statues. Shang Shanghu then turned to the prince and respectfully said, "My lord, please proceed."
Su Jiong shot him a questioning look.
"Why had he been leading the way all this time, only to suddenly step aside for the prince?"
Was he afraid that advancing further might be seen as disrespecting the prince? Or perhaps, behind his cunning mind, lay some other scheme?
Su Jiong, still lost in thought, attempted to take a step forward and follow behind Su Yao, but Shang Shanghu swiftly blocked his path. His sharp, warning gaze needed no words: You are the third In this line!
There was no room for argument. And even if there had been, he was in no position to protest. Taking a deep breath to suppress his anger, he silently followed behind them.
The stairs seemed endless. No matter how high they climbed, more steps always lay ahead. Under his breath, Su Jiong muttered,
"Why build so many stairs just to enter a residence?!"
For a moment, he wondered how the King Luoxian managed this path every day. Could it be possible that he climbed up and down these stairs each time? His eyes narrowed. "Maybe there's a hidden passage I don't know about!"
Perhaps… If he were ever in the ruler's place and wanted to torment his subordinates, he would build a staircase exactly like this—and use a secret path himself!
But he was not the ruler. And he had no desire to be one.
He had often pondered that if Su Guang had truly seized his father's position through treachery and betrayal, then he was the rightful heir to the Beichi state. Yet, deep in his heart, he had no desire for such a role. He preferred to stay far from the chaos of power. Still, he could not escape the looming shadow of the Guosu Clan's Influence.
Sooner or later, he would have no choice but to take on the responsibility of leading the clan. Perhaps then, he could stand against the king's tyranny.
At last, they reached the final step. Before them stretched a vast corridor, encircled by towering columns.
The walls were crafted from ancient, polished wood, adorned with windows covered in golden paper screens. The dim sunlight filtered through these delicate veils, casting a warm yet melancholic glow over the space.
Before they could step inside, a short and plump man approached them with slow, deliberate movements. His posture was slightly hunched—not from old age, but from years of serving as the palace's chief eunuch, a role that had trained him in perpetual humility and bows of deference.
Everyone knew him as Eunuch Gou.
With dignified poise, he lowered his head and greeted the prince with utmost respect.
"Welcome, my lord."
Su Yao, with a calm smile and a slight nod of acknowledgment, returned the gesture.
The relationship between the prince and Eunuch Gou, contrary to expectations, was a normal one, but based on trust. The King Luoxian always behaved sharply and thoughtlessly towards the prince, yet Eunuch Gou maintained his respect. Although the distrust between father and son had stirred many rumors in the palace, Eunuch Gou always quelled these rumors in their infancy. Those who dared to speak ill of the prince were severely punished by his hand.
With a gentle movement, Eunuch Gou extended his hand toward the hall before them and, with a faint smile, said, "Please, go ahead. His Excellency will arrive soon."
Su Jiong understood the meaning of this sentence: the ruler of Beichi had not yet entered his residence.
Without a word, Su Yao passed through the tall wooden door and entered the hall. Shang Shanghu, who was still standing at the side, made no move.
Su Jiong cast a curious glance at him, then took a step to follow the prince into the hall. But before he had even crossed the threshold, Eunuch Gou stepped forward and blocked his way. With a calm tone, he said, "Young Master Su, you may not enter for now."
Su Jiong narrowed his eyes and, with a hint of distrust, asked, "Did His Excellency give such an order himself?"
Eunuch Gou replied, "no, I have not yet seen him. However, Prince Xiaoyan, as His Excellency's son, is permitted to enter. But you must have an order directly from him."
Once again, the ridiculous customs of the palace. Rules that not only brought one to the brink of death but, if stones and wood could speak, would surely lament these strictures.
Su Jiong, with a furrowed brow and a stern expression, stood directly in front of Shang Shanghu. Both, like two stone towers, motionless and sour-faced, stared at each other in a cold and tense silence.
Inside the hall, a vast silence filled the air. The tall wooden doors, intricately carved with complex designs, showcased the grandeur and antiquity of the palace.
The faint light from the China lanterns hanging from the ceiling cast a pale, weak glow on the stone walls, and the shadows, caught between the dim light, stretched long and shaky, like fading ghosts crawling across the walls.
The prince entered with heavy steps. The moment the tall doors of the room, with a soft yet resonant sound, slid open, the stagnant and enchanted air from outside, like a frozen breath, crept into the room, and a wave of awe and respect filled the atmosphere.
The luxurious white garments of Su Yao gleamed against the tall ceiling and the earthy-colored walls of the room. His steps, falling upon the cold stone floor, left behind a rhythmic, heavy echo. His eyes, calm and penetrating, showed that he knew his place in this hall, and whether in possession of power or deprived of it, he never forgot its weight.
This was not a place for idle words; it was a place where whispers passed through the curtains, and every word spoken could change a destiny.
For a moment, Su Yao stood still. But there was no need for delay. Without hesitation, he kneeled, and without raising his gaze, placed his forehead upon his hands as a sign of submission.
Inside, he prepared himself for a storm of anger and criticism. But he could not bend. He could not break.
If he wished to take this power game from his father — if he wanted to prove to everyone that he was worthy of ruling — he had to learn how to endure storms. He had to resist.
But the cold slowly seeped into him. The ground, covered in polished stones, transferred its coldness steadily and mercilessly to his skin. his knees ached. His breaths became slower.
But his father had not yet arrived.
He was late.
Far later than ever before.
As he waited, Su Yao fell into thought. Perhaps this delay was intentional, perhaps this was another form of punishment from his father; a punishment that, In silence and anxiety, wore him down.
Finally, the sound of heavy footsteps broke the silence. The resonance, deep and firm, echoed through the cold, lifeless hall. Su Yao listened; perhaps this was a sign of his freedom, perhaps soon he would be allowed to rise. But he knew the truth; what had happened today held no promises of good.
With a slight hesitation, he lifted his head. From the corner of his eye, he saw a man walking behind the bookshelf. From this angle, only his legs were visible, but the robe he wore left no doubt; it was his father. His long, silken robe, colored red and gold, shone like a burning flame in the darkness of the hall.
Su Yao straightened his back, once again bowed his forehead, and with a voice slightly trembling, said: "I pay my respects to you, Your Excellency!"
Silence...
No answer came, except for the sound of footsteps once again, this time more resolute, heavier, as though deliberately pounding against the floor. Su Yao cleared his dry throat and spoke again:
"My Lord, today… today..."
The words weighed heavily on his lips. Speaking was difficult, but there was no escape. The truth could not be hidden. His father knew everything. The only thing he could do was confess once again and seek forgiveness.
"Your Excellency, today I have defied your command. I am a disobedient servant. Please, punish me."
Suddenly, a sound like thunder—like a blade striking stone—shook the hall.
"Punishment?! Since when have you become the one who bears the weight of your own punishments? Is this the second time you find yourself in such a position?!"
Su Yao's heart thudded heavily. He felt the oppressive shadow of the ruler of Beichi looming above him. His breath caught In his throat, but he slowly lifted his head to meet his father's gaze.
A man stood there, hands on his waist, with eyes burning with hatred and fury. That gaze was like a dagger thrust deep into the heart, cleaving Su Yao's soul.
"Your Excellency, I have no excuse! All I can do is beg for your forgiveness!"
Once again, he pressed his forehead to the ground. Perhaps, if he closed his eyes, he could escape from that burning, hostile look.
The ruler of Beichi took a deep breath. His eyebrows raised slightly, and his lips pressed together. But the look he fixed on his son was not that of a father to his child; it was one of enmity, rooted in a deep-seated hatred that had grown much deeper than Su Yao could have ever imagined.
In the ruler's mind, a fleeting image appeared. The moment he had heard the news of the suspension of the discipline ceremony, the moment when, in the heavy silence of the temple, a veil of rage fell before his eyes.
Before entering the palace, he had locked himself in the shrine. To speak, to calm his heart, to assure himself of the decision he had made to punish his son.
Su Guang...
The Hidden Corridor of the Main Palace?!
Su Jiong's guess was correct. Su Guang had a secret way of entering and leaving his residence. However, no one knew about this secret, not the courtiers, not the servants, and not even those closest to him. Perhaps only the shadows that slipped and whispered in the walls of the palace in the dead of night knew the truth.
Su Yao, waiting in his father's room with a heart full of doubt and questioning eyes, suddenly realized that his father hadn't appeared through the route he had expected. He had anticipated that Su Guang would enter through the usual path—either the main door or the marble corridor—but instead, he was confronted with an astonishing sight: his father, instead of entering from the only known entrance to the room, suddenly appeared from behind the bookshelves, as if the walls had parted and he had emerged from the darkness.
Su Yao stood frozen for a moment, bewildered, but the tense atmosphere in the room was so heavy that there was no time to think about what had just occurred. Perhaps, had he been as curious and observant as Su Jiong, he might have picked up a clue at that very moment. But his thoughts were preoccupied with more pressing matters. Nevertheless, one thing was certain—Su Guang was unlikely to have been careless enough to reveal his secret passage so easily. So, what had happened? Had Su Guang made a mistake In his calculations? Or perhaps he was unaware that Su Yao was waiting for him In the hall?
What can be said! The secrets in this palace were more numerous than could be easily unraveled...
Eunuch Gou, the Eternal Head of the Palace!
Eunuch Gou, a seventy-year-old man, had a face filled with wrinkles, yet his eyes still gleamed with sharpness. His posture had slightly bent with age, but no one in the palace could call him old or frail. His steps remained firm and steady, his voice resonant and commanding, and his will as unyielding as in his younger days.
He watched over everything like a sharp-eyed eagle, from the darkest corridors of the palace to its highest terraces, nothing escaped his gaze.
Throughout the palace, from the smallest servants to the ladies-in-waiting and even the other eunuchs, everyone was under his command. No one dared disregard an order spoken by him. He was strict, but his strictness came not from cruelty, but from his loyalty and concern for the palace and those who lived within it. Unlike many officials who lost themselves when they rose to power and drowned in tyranny and ruthlessness, Eunuch Gou never crossed the line of humanity.
He was tough but not merciless; serious but not cold. These very qualities had often caused him trouble, both in his youth and now, in his old age.
He had entered the palace at the age of twelve. Initially serving the father of Su Guang, and when the king passed away, he swore his loyalty to his son, Su Guang. Few in the palace's history had managed to serve two generations of kings and remain at the peak of power. But his loyalty came at a price; he had been the target of schemes and assassination attempts countless times, as his enemies knew he would never sell his ethics or honor for any bribe, promise, or wealth.
For Su Guang, Eunuch Gou was more than just the head of the palace. He loved him like a father, for it was Eunuch Gou who had played the greatest role in raising and educating him after his mother, especially during his childhood and adolescence. His father, the king, was aware of this and, at one point in Su Guang's life, removed Eunuch Gou from his servant position and appointed him as the guardian and trusted confidant of his son. A person trusted by both the king and the prince.
However, the final years of this loyal man's life were a difficult test. His body was gradually failing, but he refused to accept it. He still moved around the palace as before, observing everything with meticulous attention, and still wished to serve his lord. Yet, he no longer had the patience to deal with Su Guang's reckless and sometimes dangerous behavior. Although, at times, he would sigh with exhaustion and bitterness, he still never withdrew from his service. Retirement? Such a thing held no meaning for him. As long as he had life in his body, he wanted to remain in the service of the palace and his country. Su Guang, aware of his kindness and commitment, treated Eunuch Gou with patience and allowed him to remain in the position he had known for all his life. And thus, Eunuch Gou stood firm; an ever-present shadow in the palace, a man who had witnessed many years and stood resilient, like a pillar that no storm could uproot.
Sometimes, however, his behavior became quite erratic. One of the reasons for these actions was that Eunuch Gou wanted to prove to everyone that he still had the ability to accomplish great things and that old age had not affected his agility or courage. He could not accept that times had changed and that he no longer had the power and flexibility he once did. But it was precisely these excessive efforts that often led to unforeseen problems.
Among his reckless and foolish actions was jumping over fire. At the New Year's firework celebration three years ago, when discussions about his old age became the topic of conversation and Su Guang intended to prove to everyone, including Eunuch Gou himself, that it was time for him to retire, Eunuch Gou, in an effort to reject this claim and prove his vitality and health, suddenly ran and jumped over the fire. However, this display of pride did not go as he had expected; his long robe got caught In the flames, and it wasn't long before the fire engulfed him. In the blink of an eye, the celebration turned into a scene of terror.
Su Guang, Jie Fei, and several palace guards rushed towards him in fear. One tried to pull his robe, another attempted to extinguish the flames with bare hands. But in the end, several buckets of water, likely filled from the stable's wash basins, were thrown on Eunuch Gou, saving him from certain death by fire. Although his life was spared, his pride was shattered in front of everyone.
After this incident, Eunuch Gou fell ill for some time. Although his physical injuries were not serious, the shock and embarrassment of what had happened had deeply shaken his spirit. Meanwhile, Su Guang, both out of concern and his own desire—to force Eunuch Gou into retirement—seized the opportunity and issued an order to have him moved to his private residence outside the city, a place designated for the rest of elderly officials.
But Eunuch Gou, whose ears were still sharp and mind still alert, learned of the plan before the order could be carried out. The astonishment reached its peak one morning when he suddenly appeared at the palace, well, dressed in formal attire, and with his usual commanding presence. It was as if he had never been bedridden just days before. With a proud smile, he looked at Su Guang, as though declaring that no conspiracy, not even one devised by his closest loved ones, could remove him from his position.
Of course, the truth was that Su Guang didn't need an excuse to dismiss someone, but the respect and admiration he had for Eunuch Gou had always prevented him from resisting his pleas and arguments. As soon as Eunuch Gou made the slightest request, Su Guang would immediately give in.
Thus, despite his old age and reckless behavior, Eunuch Gou continued to preside over the palace, showing that he would fight to the very last moment to preserve his position.