Su Guang sat upon a raised platform, a quiet aura surrounding his every movement. It was as if the storm of events had stirred no turbulence within him. There was no trace of anger, no sign of dissatisfaction. On the contrary, his face appeared humble and serene, as if the chaos unfolding around him was no more than a trivial amusement.
Su Yao paused for a moment, deep in thought.
Was his father truly content with the state of affairs? Was he enjoying the disorder that had taken hold? He yearned for an answer, but when he looked up to gauge his father's reaction, he was met with a sight that only deepened his confusion.
Su Guang, paying him no attention whatsoever, held a silk scroll in his hands, calmly reading the lines with utmost focus.
It was as if the contents of that scroll were of far greater importance than the upheaval gripping the discussion hall. His eyes moved steadily across the text, and among the faint creases lining his forehead, there was no trace of surprise—only pure curiosity.
Torn between doubt and duty, Su Yao spoke cautiously:
"My lord… though you did not summon me, I felt it my duty to appear before you after what happened."
Su Guang slowly rolled up the scroll and replied:
"I don't think that's quite true. You didn't come here of your own accord. Commander Shang brought you, didn't he?"
Su Yao hesitated, wanting to correct himself. After a brief pause, he said:
"Well… yes. He said I must come to see you. But I intended to come anyway."
Su Guang withdrew his gaze from Su Yao and gently interlaced his fingers. The flickering light of the lanterns slid across his hands. Without lifting his eyes, he asked:
"What intention? That you would come here and prove that I've been defeated?"
Su Yao held his breath and quickly answered, "No! Not at all!"
At last, Su Guang fixed his eyes on him. In that moment, faint shadows of anger drifted through the clarity of his gaze, like ink bleeding into still water. His voice was calm, yet beneath that calmness lay a blade laced with venom:
"But that's exactly what it is. Yao, I know you well. I know that before Su Jiong arrived, you were certain you'd be punished. But the moment you saw him, your mind changed. Your courage returned, and now you see yourself as victorious. You think that now that the Guosu Tribe is involved, I'll leave you be?"
With every word he uttered, the invisible weight in the room grew heavier. His voice bore the edge of menace, and his gaze was sharp as a drawn sword, though he still made an effort to maintain composure.
Su Yao shook his head, pleading:
"My lord, you're mistaken. You… you've misunderstood me. I never had such intentions! Not for a moment did I wish to disgrace you. Please, believe me."
Su Guang, who had been staring at a corner of the table all along, murmured without lifting his eyes:
"Whether I believe you changes nothing."
Su Yao's eyes narrowed. He now knew for certain—his father had no intention of letting the matter go so easily.
Su Guang's voice turned firm:
"I know you're not foolish enough to dare act against me. On the other hand, I also know you're not clever enough to escape the traps laid before you. What happened today has further damaged your reputation, but in the end, everyone will blame Su Jiong."
Su Yao stepped forward involuntarily, his heart pounding in his chest. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a single word escaped his lips: "Father!"
Su Guang raised his hand with an authority that allowed no objection and commanded, "Silence! Let me finish!"
There was something In that gaze—something that choked any protest in Su Yao's throat. He crumbled where he stood, his shoulders slumping, and like a lamb caught in the hunter's snare, he lowered his head without resistance. He felt like nothing more than a worthless shadow in the presence of this man.
Su Guang continued, his words flowing like poison through Su Yao's veins. "I could hold you and Su Jiong responsible for this mess. I could punish you both. But you are my son. Even though I find you unworthy, I cannot bear to see you made a laughingstock before all. So, I ask you to prove yourself innocent and let everything unfold according to my will."
A heavy silence fell over the room. Su Yao didn't know what to do. His father's words carved at his soul like a chisel, leaving behind only a cold, dark void In his heart. Amidst the storm of turmoil, one truth struck him like a nail driven deep into his being: his father was asking him to sacrifice Su Jiong to save himself.
He was being forced to betray Jue Yan and Ming Yuan—the ones who had risked their lives for him. A wave of despair surged through him. This man, this father, had never loved him. Had never wished for his success. Su Guang cared only for preserving his own standing among the people and the officials.
He wanted to sever Su Yao from Su Jiong and his comrades, to distance him from those who saw him as a worthy successor. It was a scheme, hidden beneath a calm face and carefully chosen words.
Su Guang had called him a "fool," yet in the eyes of his friends and allies, Su Yao was far from it. He was seen as clever and enigmatic—someone who, contrary to others' assumptions, was capable of toppling his father and seizing everything for himself.
In truth, one reason Su Guang had formally forbidden him from participating in political affairs was this very fear. He knew all too well that his son would one day rise against him. And perhaps, that day was not so far off.
The rise of Su Yao's fame began with a mysterious incident: the assassination of one of Beichi's high-ranking secretaries. At first glance, the murder seemed strange and ambiguous, but the deeper It was investigated, the more questions it raised.
Secretary Han was a prominent official assigned by the ruler of Beichi to demarcate the boundaries of the nation's waterways—a project aimed at cultivating barren lands, enabling settlement in remote areas, and increasing the population. Yet before his mission could be completed, his body was discovered in one of those very remote regions—killed by a poisoned arrow. This was no ordinary crime; it was a direct assault on Beichi's security and political vision.
The prevailing theory among officials was that the assassination had been orchestrated by neighboring states—an act designed to hinder Beichi's development. But Su Yao, unlike the others, had a different view. Relying on the same evidence and considering the far-reaching consequences of the project, he claimed that the true force behind the murder was not a rival nation, but the Jing imperial court itself.
A grave and dangerous accusation—one that could have sparked a full-scale war.
Su Guang, his father, agreed with his conclusion; he had long been aware of Emperor Xian's intentions to limit his power. Yet he refused to let Su Yao use such a claim to advance his own position. He reprimanded his son and kept him away from politics.
But that decision only fanned the flames of discord. From that moment on, the conspiracies against Su Yao intensified, for the officials now knew that a deep rift had formed between father and son.
Su Yao knew it, too. He was well aware of his father's jealousy toward him and tried to act with as much caution as possible. Still, at heart, he was a prince born for politics.
One thing he could not avoid was his support for his cousin, Su Jiong. He knew that his father was displeased with Su Jiong's rise, but even so, he stood by him—both out of genuine affection and to protect his own standing.
Su Yao needed Su Jiong's power—his influence in Guosu, his command over the Inspection Bureau—but he had never admitted this to him. He didn't want his cousin to even momentarily imagine that he was a pawn in Su Yao's hands. Still, he couldn't deny the truth: if he wanted to preserve his position, he needed a pillar of support like Su Jiong.
That was why his father's reasoning about him was utterly flawed. Su Yao wasn't merely aware of the traps laid out before him—he had ways to disarm them tucked up his sleeve. Contrary to Su Guang's words, he wasn't naïve—perhaps his father belittled him out of scorn, or perhaps it was just his way of venting long-suppressed fury—but the truth was, Su Guang was fully aware of his son's talents. He knew of his skill in secrecy, his mastery in crafting masks, and feigning helplessness. Su Guang spoke with a cold voice:
"Well? What do you say? Do you accept?"
Su Yao's reply shot forth like an arrow loosed from a bow—immediate and unwavering: "No."
His response came so quickly that for a fleeting second, a shadow of surprise crossed Su Guang's eyes. How could this boy turn his back on Su Jiong? Never! Even if temptation had brushed against him for a moment, It would vanish the instant he recalled that one scene: the moment Su Jiong had placed a sword against his own throat—ready to die to preserve the prince's honor.
Su Guang rose to his feet. His heavy, fiery breaths filled the grand hall with wrath. His lips tightened, and his trembling eyelids revealed a dormant volcano behind his stony face.
"So, that's your decision!"
But this time, Su Yao didn't lower his head in submission. He could no longer be the unquestioning slave to his father's commands. He wasn't someone destined to live forever in the shadows. He said:
"Yes, Your Excellency. If a crime has been committed, then each man must answer for his own actions."
Su Guang sneered, a blend of scorn and mockery curving his lips.
"What a man of honor! I should've expected no less from you."
Despite his calm exterior, a storm raged within Su Yao. His eyelids twitched rapidly—a sign of the anxiety he tried to suppress, but which still flared up in his core. He knew the cost of this decision. He knew the consequences would be merciless. Suddenly, Su Guang's furious voice rang through the hall:
"Eunuch Gou!"
A shadow of grim anticipation settled over the room. Moments later, Eunuch Gou entered with slow, cautious steps. A deep silence gripped the tall walls of the palace—an eerie pause, just long enough for Su Yao to shut his eyes tightly, as if doing so could shield him from the fate that now loomed before him.
Su Guang growled, "Bring Su Jiong inside!"
Eunuch Gou, pale as ash and trembling ever so slightly, bowed hastily at the waist. His voice, meant to sound firm, came out more like a plea. "At once, my lord!"
Without delay, he spun around and darted out of the hall, his long robe dragging behind him like a shadow. He gave not the slightest thought to straightening it. Panting, he rushed through the vast corridors until he reached the courtyard—where, beneath the blue sky, Su Jiong stood face to face with Shang Shanghu.
The air between them was dense, charged with a silent tension, like the moment before two wolves pounce. They stood so close that it seemed either might draw a sword at any instant. Beneath the deathly stillness, an animalistic wariness pulsed. Distrust flickered in their eyes—a prelude to an Inevitable clash.
Still breathless, Eunuch Gou called out, his voice trembling despite himself, "Young Master Su… you must come with me!"
Su Jiong replied curtly,
"So, I've been summoned at last."
He stepped forward, but before he could take another move, a slender, trembling hand caught the edge of his robe. Eunuch Gou leaned in, whispering so only he could hear,
"Please, Young Master… tread carefully. His Lordship is furious this time."
Su Jiong answered with indifference,
"That's nothing new. Every time he sees me or Su Yao, he flies into a rage. We're quite used to It by now."
"No, sir… this time Is different," Eunuch Gou pleaded. "Please, be a little more compliant… if not for yourself, then for the prince…"
He trailed off, but there was no need to finish. The unspoken meaning hung heavy in the air—clearer than words. Su Jiong sighed, shrugged, and muttered with reluctance,
"What can I say? If you're dragging the prince into this, I suppose I've got no choice."
A spark of relief lit up In Eunuch Gou's eyes. A broad smile spread across his face as he said with satisfaction,
"Well said, Young Master. This way, please—His Lordship awaits."
Before moving, Su Jiong cast one final glance at Shang Shanghu—a look that brimmed with silent challenge and relentless defiance.
But Shang Shanghu was equally unwavering. He gazed down at Su Jiong as if observing an ant—emotionless, unreadable.
A long, silent moment passed.
In the end, it was Su Jiong who looked away first.
Su Jiong and Eunuch Gou hastily passed through long corridors that, like silent veins, led to the grand hall.
Silence flowed within the high, intricately designed walls of the palace, and the only sound was the light, almost inaudible footsteps of Eunuch Gou, whose presence reverberated like a mysterious whisper on the polished stone floor. Without realizing it, a faint smile formed on Su Jiong's lips—this manner of walking had always struck him as strange, but before the smile could fully surface, he buried it in his impassive face. His respect for Eunuch Gou was too great to let this small moment lead him to disrespect.
The grand doors of the hall opened smoothly, and the flickering light of the torches cast their glow upon the gleaming floor, like reflections of destiny's flames dancing In the heart of the night. Before his eyes could fix on the King, Su Jiong's gaze fell upon the kneeling figure of Su Yao, who bowed his head in front of his father.
For a moment, it seemed as though the entire world had fallen into silence. Su Jiong's face hardened. He had seen this scene countless times before. Su Yao, caught by the hands of fate, had never known mercy; kneeling before a man called "father," yet one who had never shown him any sign of compassion.
From the depths of his soul, Su Jiong's heart ached for his friend.
He could never Imagine himself in Su Yao's place. Even the thought of it stirred deep anxiety within him.
He had often wondered: If his father had still been alive, would he have acted like Su Guang?
He knew the answer. No! With certainty that arose from a heart full of love. But a bitter truth whispered in his mind, suggesting that this answer was merely born from a childlike feeling, one that cloaked a lost father in a haze of kindness, not like a shadow imposing power and fear on his son.
Standing still, he did not rush to show his respect. Boldly, he lifted his head towards the ruler, fixing his gaze in the darkness that veiled the man's face. In that gaze, there was no trace of fear or doubt—only a hint of audacity and recklessness, mixed with a sharpness few dared challenge.
Then, he gently raised his hands and spoke in a tone that, though polite, bore no sign of humility: "my lord, you summoned me."
A moment of silence...
Then, like a sword drawn from its sheath, Su Guang's eyes shone in the darkness. A shadow of anger and hatred rippled in his gaze. Slowly, he raised his head, his look unmistakably speaking: "A troublemaker… the cause of chaos!"
This type of look would only make sense if Su Jiong had repeatedly heard the harsh and biting words of his uncle.
"Troublemaker, troublemaker, troublemaker!"
Even now, with a fleeting glance at his uncle, he could feel a storm of anger raging inside him. His narrowed eyes, clenched jaw, and that half-smile, cold and threatening, were all signs of the suppressed rage that, like fire beneath the ashes, was ready to erupt at any moment. Su Jiong had no doubt that if it weren't for the support of the noble families and aristocrats of Guosu, Su Guang would have long ago had his head submerged. The only thing that had saved his life was the political influence and the visible and hidden support of certain officials.
Otherwise, it was highly likely that his body would have been found in a river one night, or he would have fallen from a mountain, or even, at an opportune time, been killed by an unknown bandit.
These were the methods Su Guang had used time and time again to eliminate his opponents—methods no one dared trace.
Eunuch Gou, sensing that danger was imminent, carefully took a step back and gave a slight bow, attempting to escape the scene. But suddenly, his master's sharp and deadly gaze, like a silent sword, hung in the air, fixing him In place. His whole body stiffened like a frozen statue. His breath was trapped in his chest, and he no longer dared to blink.
With ruthless calm, Su Guang clasped his hands behind his back and slowly took a step toward Su Jiong. His tall shadow, cast under the lantern light, stretched across the wall, making his figure appear like a vengeful and merciless ghost, rushing through the darkness toward its target.
With a mysterious tone, one that was a thin line between mockery and threat, he said, "Ah, Mr. Hero! Welcome. What a stir you've caused! It seems like every day you're showing some new talent. I'm starting to like you!"
Su Jiong, without showing the slightest reaction, simply stared coldly and indifferently at his uncle. He knew these words were filled with sarcasm and humiliation, but deep down, he had prepared for this moment. This was not the first time Su Guang intended to crush his pride, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. In that very instant, Eunuch Gou's words echoed in his mind: "Please be a little more obedient… at least for the prince..."
He took a deep breath and cast his gaze to the floor. He should not speak. He should not react. This was the only way he could protect Su Yao.
Su Guang's eyes took on a cold gleam. His voice thundered like a mighty roar through the hall: "Damn It! Kneel!"
Upon hearing these words, Su Yao's body trembled.
But Su Jiong, without hesitation, released himself, and mercilessly dropped to his knees.
A moment of silence...
The torches flickered on the walls, and the shadows danced, as if the entire world was waiting for the eruption of the ruler's fury.
Su Guang, with volcanic fury, took fast and merciless steps towards Su Jiong. His hands trembled with anger, and the veins on his forehead bulged, turning red. Su Yao, with uncontrollable fear, realized that his father intended to subject Su Jiong to a brutal beating. In his anxiety, his voice cracked and he stuttered, saying,
"Father… Father…"
He reached out toward Su Guang, hurriedly bending down to stop him, but it was too late. Su Guang's heavy fist, like a hammer of steel, struck Su Jiong's mouth. The blow, like thunder in the night, knocked Su Jiong off balance, and his body slammed violently to the ground. Bitter blood filled his mouth, yet he cast a look full of pride and despair at his uncle, not letting out the slightest sound of a groan.
Su Yao, his eyes seemingly about to pop out of his sockets, screamed, "Father!"
Eunuch Gou took several steps back. An involuntary, disturbing fear coiled inside him, and he closed his eyes, as if he could not endure such a scene any longer.
Su Jiong's heart, like molten lava, was ready to erupt, but he knew that any defiance against Su Guang at this moment would mean certain death! He took a deep breath, swallowed the blood in his mouth, and blinked slowly.
But suddenly, Su Guang's rough, powerful hands, like the claws of a hunter, seized his face and pulled it towards him. His heavy, labored breaths struck Su Jiong's skin, and the scent of his fury, like hot Iron, filled the air.
Su Guang's eyes were filled with long-standing hatred and a fresh wound. With a venomous, hateful tone, he said,
"Do you think I don't understand why you're doing this?! Do you think I don't know you want to show yourself as a hero and me as a tyrant… a merciless monster who shows no mercy even to his own child?"
Su Jiong's gaze drowned in his uncle's, but he remained silent. Su Guang, furious at his humiliating silence, shouted, "You're taking revenge for your father on me, aren't you? By crushing me! By questioning me!"
Suddenly, with a swift motion, Su Jiong yanked his face from his uncle's iron grip. His eyes gleamed with hatred, and he clenched his fists. He said,
"I'm glad you think that way!"
The Palace Eunuchs.
We all know well what role a eunuch plays within the palace. These men, forever dwelling in the shadows of imperial walls, served the women of the harem and the great lords of the court.
They were not merely aides in daily affairs—they often acted as personal bodyguards to their masters, ensuring their safety in moments of crisis. The duties of eunuchs were at times so intricate and far-reaching that few could truly grasp the depth of their responsibilities.
Among their many roles, one aspect that constantly drew attention was how different eunuchs appeared—and behaved—compared to ordinary men. These differences were evident In every movement, every word they spoke.
They always walked with silent, deliberate steps, as if tiptoeing through a world that belonged to no one but themselves. What might at first glance seem absurd was, in fact, part of their professional discipline. They touched the ground with their feet, yet no sound accompanied them, as though they moved in perfect harmony with the earth.
Even when their masters roared with rage and barked out urgent orders, not a single hurried step could be heard from a eunuch. It was as if they lived in another realm altogether—a silent one, detached from the noise of the living world.
Their manner of speaking, too, was strange and unsettling. Their voices had such a peculiar quality that, if one heard them without seeing the speaker, they might assume they were speaking with a woman.
It was as though these eunuchs had been born into male bodies, only to be filled with feminine spirits. When seen without their ceremonial garments, many passersby would mistake them for effeminate men—or for something altogether different: men who did not belong to any one category.
Their hand gestures and reactions to the world were always marked by calm and deliberation. When a eunuch wished to say something, his words would be so drawn out that the listener's patience was often put to the test.
Even the simple act of pointing was done with such caution and slowness that it seemed time itself moved differently for them.
Yet beneath these outward peculiarities lay a hidden truth. Eunuchs lived in a complex world, one veiled behind slow movements, strange phrases, and eyes filled with secrets. It was not a world easily understood.
For behind every pause, every peculiar glance, there were countless untold tales—each eunuch carried a story uniquely his own.
So we shall end this discussion here, for one could speak of palace eunuchs for hours and still find countless threads left unexplored.
This is only the beginning of a deeper, more intricate tale—one that, no matter how long it is told, always holds more to be said.
The King Who Hated His Past.
Su Guang was a king of formidable presence and majesty, a man who had stood resilient against every hardship of his time. Anyone who laid eyes upon him would involuntarily envision an immense, unyielding mountain—one that no storm or rain could shake or bring down.
Yet within the heart of this proud and glorious king lay emotions buried deep, festering like an infected wound at the core of his soul. Regrets unknown to all slowly gnawed at his heart, casting a bitter shadow over the lives of those around him. Though he struck fear into the hearts of all who beheld him, he bore torments within that few could ever comprehend.
Su Guang was a complex man—one who could not be described in a single phrase or word. He was nearing the age of fifty, yet at times his behavior resembled that of a growing child far more than that of a mighty ruler. Among these traits was his endless habit of grumbling. In the frequent arguments he had with his wife, Lady Yueming, he never conceded. There were times he would go weeks without speaking to her, forbidding her even from entering his chambers.
For a king who forged power and authority amidst decisive and brutal wars, such behavior was both odd and—perhaps—childish. Su Guang was deeply prone to complaints, to the extent that storms of rage would erupt from within him, and nothing could calm them.
He was also quick to anger. Often, his outbursts came at the most unexpected moments. But unlike many who regret their actions once their fury has subsided, Su Guang never showed remorse. When the storm within him passed and he was left to his thoughts, he often found himself not only unrepentant, but even more consumed by emotion—sometimes enough to drive him toward even darker decisions.
Lady Yueming, his wife and the woman who had endured years by his side, knew well how to deal with him. She had often warned their son, Prince Su Haiming, to stay out of his father's way when he was angry.
She had once told the prince, "If ever your father is angry, get out of the palace if you must—just don't stay In his path!"
As a king, Su Guang showed no mercy to anyone. He needed no council or companion to issue commands. Once he made a decision, the world itself would seem to bend to his will. His word was law—like a divine decree that could not be escaped. And anyone who stood against it was doomed to be destroyed.
Unlike his older brother, Prince Su Shen, Su Guang was somewhat late in pursuing marriage. While Su Shen married Lady Hebin at the age of twenty-one, Su Guang—three years his junior—did not wed until the age of twenty-five.
This difference in timing, however, was only one of the intriguing aspects of the two brothers' marital stories, for both had married daughters of the prestigious Ming family.
Su Guang's marriage, however, unfolded with complexities and troubles that gradually came to light. At first, no one was aware of the deep discord between the couple. Outwardly, their relationship appeared completely normal, but within the palace walls, endless conflicts simmered between Su Guang and Lady Subin, the mother of Su Yao. These disagreements remained astonishingly well hidden from others, and neither of them—especially Su Guang—ever spoke of it to anyone.
Even the king and queen were unaware of these problems. And those few who were somewhat in the know had no idea what the root of these ongoing quarrels was.
Nevertheless, the tensions eventually led to a bitter conclusion. After the death of Lady Subin, Su Guang—by then seated upon the throne—never appointed another woman to the position of queen. The duties of the queen, by informal internal arrangement, were entrusted to Lady Yueming. As head of the royal harem and overseer of the palace women, Lady Yueming was known in private circles as the "Lady Queen," but since the throne had never officially named anyone to the position, no one addressed her as queen In any formal capacity.
Su Guang's decision was not only a break from royal tradition, but also met with significant opposition. Many courtiers and officials expressed concern over the absence of an official queen, and this shift in the structure of power created tensions at court. Yet, as those familiar with Su Guang's character would expect, such objections held no sway over his choices. Su Guang was a man who gave no heed to the opinions of others.
Even so, all the joy and peace in his life could be found only in the embrace of Lady Yueming and his second son, Su Haiming.
In the most difficult and turbulent moments of his life, Su Guang turned to Lady Yueming and Su Haiming as his source of solace and tranquility. They were the only ones who, even in the darkest of days, could bring a smile to his lips and stir within his heart feelings of love and safety.