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TL Notes:
Da Hong Pao from the Wuyi Mountains: Da Hong Pao is a famous Chinese oolong tea from the Wuyi Mountains. Known for its rich, roasted flavor and smooth, floral aftertaste, it’s prized for its unique “rocky” taste. Named “Big Red Robe” from a legend, it’s one of China’s most treasured and historically significant teas.
The Orphanage.
Chen Ye sat casually, one arm resting on the wooden table.
A pot of tea and a plate of pastries sat on the table.
Xiao Lian stood to the side, her expression complex as she looked at Chen Ye.
She spoke slowly: “Dean, Xiaosheng ran into Qiong Aohai.”
“He commissioned Yuye Hall to investigate two people.”
Xiao Lian pulled out a slim booklet and handed it to Chen Ye.
Chen Ye accepted it calmly, picking up a pastry with his left hand. He popped it into his mouth and read as he chewed.
It didn’t take long.
Chen Ye finished reading the booklet.
He said lightly, “Let Qin Yi and the others handle it.”
“What about the Princess Jiangzhu I asked you to look into—did you find anything?”
Xiao Lian nodded. Her voice was cool and clear: “I did.”
“But she’s already dead.”
“Word is, two years ago, the master of Wind and Rain Tower stormed Bianliang and slaughtered the Crown Prince and all the princesses.”
“If the former emperor hadn’t left a dragon heir outside the palace, Dawu would have fallen completely.”
Chen Ye narrowed his eyes slightly at her report.
Princess Jiangzhu died two years ago?
No.
She’s still alive.
That girl Da Ming met was Princess Jiangzhu.
The system wouldn’t make a mistake.
Chen Ye suddenly sensed something odd.
Dawu had publicly declared the Crown Prince and all princesses were killed by the master of Wind and Rain Tower.
So why was there suddenly a surviving Princess Jiangzhu?
Why was Dawu hiding her existence?
Chen Ye’s eyes narrowed as he lightly tapped the table.
Xiao Lian noticed the expression on his face and knew he was deep in thought, so she stood quietly by.
After a moment, Chen Ye asked, “Any other intel on Princess Jiangzhu?”
Xiao Lian recalled and replied, “Her birth mother was just a low-ranked concubine. They say her ancestral home was Yuhang.”
“Princess Jiangzhu had an older full sister, Princess Yuzhu.”
Chen Ye listened and closed his eyes, thoughtful.
After a long silence, a gleam flashed in his eyes.
“I see.”
Xiao Lian glanced at him and spoke: “Dean, I’d like to take a short leave.”
“We’re still missing a few materials for the Peacock Plume. The Tang Sect found a piece of golden soft iron beyond the pass—it’s said to be one of the components for the Dragon Beard Needle.”
“They’ve hired the Haijing Gang to transport it back via water.”
“I’d like to…”
Chen Ye nodded and waved his hand. “Go on, just be careful.”
“Yes.” Xiao Lian bowed respectfully and stepped back.
…
Two years had passed.
Though Xiao Lian still harbored a vague, inexplicable affection for Chen Ye, her cold and lonely life as an assassin had worn down her feelings.
Now, all she thought about was reaching First Grade as soon as possible—or finishing the Peacock Plume and killing that man.
Everything else, she no longer cared to dwell on.
What’s more, Chen Ye was a grandmaster.
The deeper one ventured into the martial world, the more they understood how terrifying grandmasters truly were.
The gap between them was far too wide.
Chen Ye watched as Xiao Lian left the Orphanage. He picked up his tea bowl and took a sip.
The delicate fragrance of the tea was refreshing and soothing.
His eyes were deep and contemplative—he had just realized something significant.
“The Crown Prince and all the princesses dead, yet two survived.”
“One lives in hiding under a false name, somewhere in Yuhang.”
“Then out of nowhere, a Second Prince appears.”
“Tsk tsk…”
Chen Ye tapped the table lightly with his fingers, a hint of intrigue on his face.
He stretched lazily, suddenly remembering something.
Chen Ye murmured, “Spring flooding season’s just a month away…”
“Let’s hope with a new emperor on the throne, the court will finally get its act together.”
From outside came the sound of playful voices.
Chen Ye stood and looked out into the courtyard.
There came Da Ming, soaked through but grinning foolishly, clearly in good spirits.
Xiaofu saw him and ran over, tugging at the hem of his robe, her voice sweet and coaxing: “Big Brother Da Ming, I want more of the treats sister-in-law gave me!”
Da Ming chuckled dumbly and said, “Those were for Dad.”
Inside the hall, Chen Ye heard her and called out with a smile, “Xiaofu, there are still a few pieces here with Dad.”
Hearing this, Xiaofu’s large black-and-white eyes lit up instantly.
“I’m coming! I’m coming!”
She scampered into the hall. Chen Ye handed her the plate of pastries.
Xiaofu gave it a careful look, pouting, “I don’t want the white one—I want the one with red dots.”
“The red-dotted one has honey in it.”
Da Ming, who was just about to head to his room to change, froze at her words.
…
The wind had picked up.
It swept through the bamboo forest.
The lush green bamboo leaves rustled softly.
As the breeze passed, the entire bamboo grove swayed with it.
Within the grove, there was a small clearing. At the center of that clearing stood a modest bamboo house.
It wasn’t large. Inside, a young man sat cross-legged on a mat, a small tea table before him.
On the table sat a palm-sized zisha teapot, its spout releasing wisps of pale steam.
The bamboo room was filled with a faint, soothing aroma of tea.
Anyone well-versed in tea would recognize it instantly—Da Hong Pao from the Wuyi Mountains.
It was a rare harvest, exceedingly expensive, and only those with true prestige in the martial world could afford to drink it.
Tap, tap, tap…
Footsteps approached from outside the bamboo room.
The young man turned his head toward the sound, though his eyes were covered with a black brocade band—he could not see.
An elder dressed in grey entered, walking to the young man's side and gently taking his hand.
Using his finger, he traced several characters onto the young man’s palm.
The young man sat still, silently taking it in.
Once the elder finished, the young man gave a soft nod. His voice was calm and clear:
“I understand.”
“If necessary, continue passing messages to Qiong Aohai.”
“This performance has only just begun. He’s the core—he must not fall.”
He paused, thinking a moment before continuing, “Zhang Shun is backed by Nan Yiyun. Given Nan Yiyun’s nature, he won’t interfere in this matter.”
“Proceed without concern.”
The grey-robed elder chuckled silently.
He nodded, gave the young man's hand a gentle pat, and departed.
Quiet returned once more to the bamboo room.
Only the sound of rustling leaves remained as the wind danced past.
The young man remained silent, lifting the teacup from the table and taking a slow sip.
---
Bianliang Imperial Palace.
Imperial Study.
On the dragon throne sat a young man, delicate-featured and slightly thin in stature.
He wore a bright yellow imperial robe, embroidered with a five-clawed golden dragon.
This young man, seated upon the throne, was none other than the reigning emperor of the Dawu Dynasty—Zhao Zhu.
Though young, his presence was cold as frost.
His slightly feminine eyes held a biting chill whenever they shifted.
In his hand, Zhao Zhu held a confidential scroll. By his side stood the palace’s sole Grandmaster-level guardian—Feng Man.
Finishing the message, Zhao Zhu’s voice was icy, like frozen jade:
“Jiangzhu’s identity has been exposed.”
“Send an urgent flying message. She is to return to the palace tomorrow.”
“The court is now firmly within my grasp. It is time for her to return.”
Feng Man nodded respectfully. “As you command.”
Zhao Zhu seemed to recall something else and added indifferently, “Spring flooding will return in a month.”
“Have the Ministry of Revenue increase the disaster relief allocation by ten to twelve percent compared to previous years.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Zhao Zhu gave a slight nod, then set down the letter in his hand.
He gazed out through the windows of the imperial study, past the sapphire sky and the golden glazed tiles atop the palace walls.
His eyes were deep and unreadable—no longer just a young man, but one already wearing the mantle of an emperor.