Chapter 24: Rebuttal

After being schooled by Dugu Jin these past few days, Yuan Peipei was no longer as naive as she once was. She sensed vaguely that the Prime Minister’s question was off.

"Father, what exactly do you mean by that?" This was the first time she hadn’t directly answered a question from the Yuan family.

The Prime Minister frowned, clearly displeased. Still, he pressed on with forced patience: "I mean, when the Emperor handles state affairs, reviews memorials, or speaks with others, does he deliberately avoid you?"

Yuan Peipei hesitated.

In the Gu residence, warmed by the underfloor heating, Gu Zixu stared intently at a Crimson Fire Tree. The tree was blood-red throughout, leafless, and appeared exceptionally beautiful in the candlelight.

Su Qingyan’s skin, as delicate as white porcelain, was right before him. Her beautiful eyes were bright with expectation, and her playful smile and petal-like red lips were nearly brushing Qin Yang’s cheek.

After he had humbled himself to gain Song Xinghe’s forgiveness and successfully drawn closer to him, witnessing the deep, sibling-like friendship between Song Xinghe and Pei Huan every day had truly stirred a sense of envy within him.

"Why is the Second Young Master here? Doesn't he usually stay inside his own courtyard?" a manservant asked as he walked by.

"You don’t have to speak, as long as you can endure these tortures," Yun Haotian said, looking expressionlessly at the disheveled Lady Luo. Qin Feng walked directly to the brazier used for heating branding irons and toyed with one of the glowing red tools.

If Ji Jianzhi were alone with his guards, he might have been able to maneuver through these marauders and break out. But with the Empress accompanying him, he feared he could not engage freely. It would be fine if he were injured, but if the Empress were harmed, the situation would be beyond repair.

"You really are a handful," Qin Feng said, unable to resist a jab as he recalled Shui Yiren’s actions at the brothel.

Back in the day, there were those in the entertainment industry who didn't believe in him. Several veterans had even commented on variety shows that talent alone wasn't enough, and that original work was no easy feat. Very few people ever became famous through that path.

Shen Mubei had never expected that a second meeting with the head of the Huo family would come so suddenly.

Though the Prime Minister was advanced in age, his memory had not faded. He certainly remembered the incident that took place in the imperial palace twenty-four years ago. The name Chi Xiang, in particular, left him deeply unsettled.

Each wave of force was heavier than the last, causing Zhang Yang’s injuries to compound and his internal organs to churn with pain. Furthermore, the three layers of hidden energy were increasingly subtle, making it difficult for Zhang Yang to discern exactly how many strikes had been landed.

Zhong Li covered his nose in discomfort; the scent of one incense stick was enough—pleasant and relaxing—but any more than that was merely nauseating.

He had assumed that Xin Mo was simply acting out of a momentary fit of pique and would return once her anger subsided. It was precisely this wishful thinking that caused him to lose her forever.

Kang Meiling had gone to the Forestry Bureau for an interview, and Director Ma of the Bureau had invited her to stay for a meal. She asked if Director Tian could be called over as well, to which the Director replied that it was no trouble at all. In truth, he hadn't intended to invite Tian Chuan, as he had little prior contact with him; he simply wanted to dine with Kang Meiling.

Su Mo and her companions were taken aback, their brows furrowing involuntarily. Exchanging glances, they turned and walked toward the perimeter wall to peer outside, checking to see if something had gone wrong.

"Hey, hey, hey! Which team am I in?" Gui Yu Zhong asked, tailing Yin Yang Xuan like a shadow, pleading for an answer.

The old man fainted from fright on the spot. Everyone only learned of these matters later; previously, there were many young people in the building, and their "yang" energy could suppress such things. Now, with the impending relocation, the young had all left, leaving only us old men and women behind, and those things had begun to stir again.

Zhang Yang’s consciousness was fading, and his life hung by a thread, kept alive only by the vital essence within his Spirit-Devouring Sea. If he were struck again, he would surely perish. Yet, being so far from the battlefield, who would care about a "dead man"?