Chapter Forty-Five: The Master of Schemes

“The partnership between Qianyu and the Prince ends here.”

“Qianyu and the Prince of War have irreconcilable differences. From this day forth, they will part ways.”

Within the Pavilion of Listening to the Wind at the Prince of War’s manor, Feng Jinye’s brow was drenched in cold sweat. The two sentences uttered by Qianyu echoed like a spell, agitating every nerve in his body.

His head throbbed, nearly splitting, and within his mind flashed an image—a letter. Feng Jinye caught eight words: “Having heard your wavering heart, I have come to sever ties.”

He clenched his fist and struck his brow several times, shaking his head violently...

At first, he did not understand why these scenes appeared intermittently, uncanny in their familiarity. He assumed they were dreams or memories from his period of unconsciousness.

But now, Feng Jinye realized they were indeed his memories.

Perhaps it was Qianyu’s resolute words today, so similar to that moment years ago, or perhaps listening to her farewell stirred the same emotions, naturally unearthing memories that had been locked away...

Two years ago, north of Guanlin City, Feng Jinye had just taken a small town facing the capital of Xiyan. The old city lord of Qu Capital was willing to surrender, on the condition that the Prince of War marry his daughter, Tan Yun’er, as a consort.

The military camp was abuzz. Soldiers whispered, barely containing their joy, saying that perhaps the city could be taken without another battle.

Outside the tent, Night Eleven received a letter from a young soldier and reported, “Your Highness, a letter has arrived from the General’s house. Would you like to see it?”

Inside, Feng Jinye was engrossed in the sand table, appearing every bit the strategist who commands victory from afar. Hearing this, he looked up sharply. “How many?”

“There should be ten now...” Night Eleven suddenly felt a chill in the air. His prince never personally read letters except those from his intended or those concerning battle. He had no way to handle this...

Besides, Qianyu’s letters were always delivered at a gallop from the Prince of War’s manor to the border. Who would have guessed the General’s house would send correspondence?

Feng Jinye’s expression darkened. “Bring it here!”

Night Eleven handed the letter to Feng Jinye and vanished, sensing the prince’s temper was about to erupt...

Feng Jinye opened the first letter—it was a poem. He stared at the elegant handwriting, his gaze lingering over the lines: “Having heard your wavering heart, I have come to sever ties.”

His face turned pale, his hand trembling as he held the paper...

How could this be? Had news of Qu Capital reached Yue Capital? But only two days had passed. How could it arrive so swiftly? Feng Jinye was frantic, pounding the sand table twice. “Prepare my horse!”

Night Eleven, hearing the order, knew the prince would return to Yue Capital to find his intended and hesitated before revealing the news he had just received: “Your Highness, a battle report from Wu Capital. Yesterday, Prince Huangfu killed the Crown Princess of Xiyan!”

Feng Jinye clenched his fist, then heard a soldier outside the tent report, “Your Highness, the generals request an audience!”

“Enter!” Feng Jinye replied icily. The generals shivered, certain they had chosen the wrong day...

A burly general, blunt and oblivious, spoke up: “Your Highness, Wu Capital reports that Prince Huangfu killed the Crown Princess of Xiyan. Should Your Highness finalize the marriage with Qu Capital’s daughter? I fear delay may bring trouble!”

The others echoed the sentiment: “Indeed, Prince of War. With Xiyan’s princess dead, their fighting spirit will rise. It is said the grieving army always wins!”

“Your Highness, please decide soon!”

“Your Highness, I’ve heard that the intended has taken a man into the General’s house, and that Qianyu’s name in Yue Capital is now infamous. Your Highness need not mind your old promise!”

Feng Jinye slammed his palm down, shattering the table before him, and roared, “Eleven, bring my horse!”

Night Eleven knew nothing could change the prince’s mind and went to the stables to fetch the horse...

Feng Jinye vaulted onto the saddle, cracked the whip, and rode off, leaving the generals in the tent staring, dumbfounded, at his retreating silhouette...

Within the Pavilion, Feng Jinye calmed himself and called out in a cold voice, “Chu Ninth.”

Chu Ninth stood outside, watching Qianyu depart, silently praying countless times for the princess to return...

Though Chu Ninth sensed the sky over the Prince of War’s manor was about to collapse, he entered, trembling, to receive orders. “Your Highness, I’m here.”

“The invitation!” Feng Jinye stretched out his hand, his tone stern and cold.

Chu Ninth immediately understood and found the invitation Qianyu had sent two days prior, handing it to Feng Jinye.

Feng Jinye silently opened it, reading the lines of congratulatory verse: “The swallow brings spring to closed doors, the nightingale sings of spring’s arrival across the land...”

It was the handwriting he had seen before. His expression darkened further. If the ten letters were, as Qianyu claimed, sent under duress when Lin Yichu kidnapped Feng Qingxuan, then how could the poem, so full of feeling, be false?

“White as snow atop the mountain, bright as the moon within the clouds. Hearing your wavering heart, I have come to sever ties. Today, a feast of wine; tomorrow, by the river’s edge.”

She spoke of “snow and moon,” yet schemed at every turn; she accused him of mistrust, but if she trusted him, why speak of “wavering” and “severance”? She was right, too—last night in his arms, today at the riverbank, their parting.

“Strolling along the imperial moat, the water flows east and west. Mournful, so mournful; no need to weep at marriage. May I find one true heart, and remain together to old age.”

Feng Jinye nearly crushed the invitation in his hand. What is “one true heart”? What is “never parting”? She never wept, yet let their past flow away like water, never to return—was it not she who said they should part ways?

“How slender the bamboo pole, how lively the fish’s tail. A man values loyalty; what need is there for money and blades?”

Feng Jinye exhaled deeply. When the old city lord offered his daughter in exchange for surrendering Qu Capital, if he accepted—if he truly broke his promise—Qianyu’s letter, full of reproach, would be justified. But he did not; for her, he abandoned an entire city, riding alone back to Yue Capital.

He waved Chu Ninth away. He needed time to sit and sort through the beginnings and ends.

When Feng Jinye awoke in Mo Capital, Xiyan, his memories halted at the assassination seven years prior—a poisoned arrow shot at his chest. Now, he wondered if the arrow ever struck him; he couldn’t say for sure.

He woke with pain in his chest, but it was from Qianyu’s sword wound, not an arrow. Not a trace of the poisoned arrow remained...

Could it be he was never struck, never lost consciousness? Feng Jinye pondered, terrified. Why had he believed for years he was unconscious, never noticing the truth...

“Chu Ninth!” Feng Jinye called again. “Summon the heir!”

Chu Ninth, puzzled, obeyed the strange order and departed.

Yun Ming arrived quickly, knowing Feng Jinye and Qianyu had quarreled again, and this time it was serious.

“You wanted to see me?” Yun Ming recalled Qianyu’s mention of the hired assassin at Twilight Pavilion and was unsure how much to reveal.

“Tell me the details of the assassination seven years ago!” Feng Jinye demanded, his mind in turmoil.

Yun Ming paused, then realized Feng Jinye was recalling something, questioning if the assassination was as he believed. Yun Ming shook his head. “I was the first to fall.”

He knew there was no point hiding anything, though his knowledge was limited. “Later, I heard you say that Huangfu shielded you from the arrow, then fell unconscious. You were never struck.”

“As expected!” Feng Jinye’s speculation was correct. Huangfu Chen had saved him for the second time.

“And her?” Yun Ming naturally understood he meant Qianyu.

Yun Ming smiled calmly. “She was the bride you chose. The story everyone hears of the Prince of War and Qianyu is the story between you and her.”

Feng Jinye was desolate, his heart aching. She was gone.

“Why did I and Huangfu exchange identities and lose our memories?” This was the greatest mystery.

Yun Ming tapped his fan against his palm and shook his head. “That I do not know. Ever since you and Huangfu went to war, I have been recuperating in Yunyang Mountain.”

Feng Jinye’s brow furrowed again, his complexion poor. “Did you hear of Qu Capital?”

Yun Ming nodded slightly and sighed. “I heard that two years ago, you abandoned your army and rode alone from Guanlin City back to Yue Capital.”

“In Yue Capital, tales spread that Qianyu was a femme fatale, causing the Prince of War to leave Qu Capital for her. They said she was jealous, refusing to let him marry the city lord’s daughter, sparking another war and countless deaths.” Yun Ming spoke with pity for Qianyu.

“At that time, most blamed Qianyu, the people of Yue Capital accusing her of not sacrificing herself for the greater good.” Yun Ming’s face was full of disdain. The fate of the nation is every citizen’s duty; no one has the right to demand a woman sacrifice her happiness for the world.

“It was her letter that made me return to Yue Capital.” Feng Jinye’s memory had only partly returned, neither fully backward nor forward, unsure if he ever saw Qianyu again.

Yun Ming was startled, unsure if he should continue.

Feng Jinye noted Yun Ming’s hesitation and commanded, “Speak.”

“At the city gate of Yue Capital, you were ambushed and poisoned.” Yun Ming suddenly felt deeply sorry for Qianyu.

He knew he could not hide anything; even if he didn’t tell, Feng Jinye could easily find out. “It was Qianyu who rescued you and brought you back to the Prince of War’s manor. Later, you returned to Qu Capital. As far as I know, Qianyu soon went to Guanlin City as well. What happened after that, I cannot say.”

Feng Jinye’s heart was churned with waves. Last night, Luo Yanqing had said, “No doubt Qianyu has captured the Prince of War’s heart—something no Xiyan spy ever accomplished.” The words echoed in his mind. Who was Qianyu, truly?

If the letter was sent under Lin Yichu’s coercion, all this was too much coincidence.

If Qianyu had used the situation to her advantage, making Feng Jinye return to Yue Capital and making it harder for Li Yue to seize Qu Capital, that would make more sense.

Feng Jinye’s heart was full of doubts. Was she not always the one best at scheming against him?