At the hour of Mao, deep into the night,
A lone carriage sped through the rain across the central axis of Di’an galopolis, elevated several feet above the ground. The straight and unyielding royal road stretched onward, uninterrupted, leading to the summit of Palace City.
The night in Di’an City hung low, its dark curtain draped over a thousand lit households.
Autumn rain softly tapped against the window blinds, scattering faint sparks of firelight along the way.
In the fragrant, tranquil carriage compartnt, a man with ticulously tied long hair sat silently, his angled gaze peering out at the scenery beyond the window.
The expansive Di’an City had largely succumbed to sleep by now. Only in the sleepless districts did revelry persist, their light soaked by the torrential rain.
The man watched the far-off revels in quiet contemplation,
observing the hysteria concealed beneath the surface of song and dance.
Unconsciously,
his gaze withdrew, furrowing his brow as he looked at the low table before him.
There lay a morial.
Its crimson cover was vivid, the ink still fresh, inscribed with a ssage of monuntal change:
"The law on Immortal Tax..."
"..."
Xu Yuan stared wordlessly at this morial, his personal handwriting staring back at him as the monts stretched long.
The carriage’s fierce galloping sent water splashing from puddles, while the exclusive incense of the Imperial Family seeped into his senses.
He had lived through wars, witnessed countless deaths.
Yet all his past experiences paled before what lay in this folded letter.
Lost in thought, a faint rustling reached his ears.
He turned his head—
and saw a formless mist creeping through the tiniest gaps before coalescing into a distinct figure.
A woman draped in a white furred cape erged before his eyes.
Her brows arched like distant erald peaks, her eyes like autumn waters, enchanting in their allure. Clad in a tailored deep-purple qipao that accentuated her graceful curves.
Xu Yuan cast a fleeting glance at the soft, delicate line exposed at Lou Ji’s neckline, then quickly looked away.
There were tis he simply did not understand his elder sister’s choice of attire.
Always dressed so provocatively, magnetizing attention.
To charm soone? Impossible.
Her position as Black Scale Leader ant very few dared even to et her gaze.
If not to charm others, then perhaps purely for self-satisfaction.
This elder sister clearly enjoyed the twisted power of drawing covetous eyes while denying their courage to truly look.
Letting his thoughts wander, Xu Yuan casually asked,
"What brings you here at this crucial hour?"
"Can’t I just co by to check on you?"
Sinking into the seat beside him, Lou Ji lounged lazily, crossing her legs. The high-slitted hem of her qipao swayed lightly, revealing hints of her fair, rounded thighs. With a teasing smile, she asked,
"So, how was your first day at court? From the look on your face earlier, it seed you were nervous."
Xu Yuan raised an eyebrow, laughing softly,
"Nervous? Father and the others have already left the capital. Right now, in the whole of Di’an City, I hold the highest power. Why would I be nervous?"
Lou Ji’s flawless, alluring face revealed traces of a suppressed chuckle, as she replied,
"You’re the highest in power, aren’t you? What a bold sentint, you little brat. You really don’t care for the Imperial Family or their rules, do you? But I suppose you’re not wrong. Still..."
At this point,
Lou Ji’s words paused. Leaning forward slightly, her delicate chest pressed against her thighs, reshaping under the pressure. She reached for the crimson morial on the low table, unfolded it, and studied it closely before murmuring,
"... Changtian, I an this Immortal Tax reform—are you truly prepared for it?"
"..."
Fixing his gaze on the morial in Lou Ji’s hands, Xu Yuan suddenly fell silent.
He once believed himself ready, convinced he could confront the future with cold indifference. Yet when the authority of this War Blade was finally within his grasp, doubts began to creep in.
Still silent, Xu Yuan reached out to take the letter. Turning his face toward the window, he murmured softly,
"Hmm, maybe... I am a little nervous. But soone has to do it."
War is a ans, not an end,
The shadow of war lood over the entire Dayan Empire because, in the past decades, both political and economic tools had been exhausted.
Lou Ji narrowed her eyes, gazing at the profile of the man before her, speaking gently with persuasion,
"Such dirty work doesn’t always have to be done personally. The Duke Su, the Marquis of Zhenxi, or even those Chief of Staff mbers have enough weight to manage it. In the worst case, you could wait until Father returns; that’s an option too."
Xu Yuan shot his elder sister a sidelong glance,
"Deceiving oneself achieves nothing."
Unbothered, Lou Ji persisted, her tone earnest,
"At the very least, it brings peace of mind."
As she spoke,
The woman leaned back lazily against the cushioned seat, her gaze drifting over the ornately carved wooden walls of the carriage compartnt as she murmured,
"In my lifeti, I’ve killed more people than I can count—directly or indirectly—with those who’ve died because of numbering at least six figures. Yet even they pale in comparison to the weight of this docunt in your hands."
Night rain swept through the window fra, stirring both their hair.
Xu Yuan suddenly smiled, his eyes curving slightly as he remarked,
"Sis, you’re not usually so sentintal; what’s with this sudden indecision?"
"..." Lou Ji frowned faintly.
Xu Yuan reached out and pressed her seemingly boneless shoulder lightly.
He understood all too well what Lou Ji wanted.
Even at this pivotal mont, his elder sister—or rather, those elders in the Pri Minister’s Mansion—still sought ways to "ease his burden." However...
With these thoughts, Xu Yuan flicked the corner of the letter between his fingers, smiling as he said,
"To wish for to advance while preventing from bearing the corresponding responsibility—is there truly such a convenient arrangent in this world that’s ant solely for to enjoy?"
"..."
Lou Ji lowered her gaze slightly.
The Dayan Empire’s thousand-year-long reign, the countless wise monarchs and renowned ministers it had seen—all had refrained from daring to touch a burden now fully resting on Xu Yuan’s hands within this slender crimson docunt.
In the foreseeable future,
Countless families would be shattered because of it. Countless lives would succumb to sickness and pain. All vitality would tumble into ruin, as cheap as weeds.
This morial embodied the threshold between dawn and abyss.
It signified conflagration,
It signified death.
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