CHAPTER 1

He knew he was dreaming again.

This dream had haunted him for decades—day and night—entangled with him as if carved into his bones, as if part of his flesh. He couldn’t throw it away, couldn’t dig it out. If it didn’t come for even a day, he felt like something was missing.

But he had never had such a clear dream before—so clear it felt real.

“Gou'er, why are you so stubborn? Isn’t my money your money? Why do I earn money, if not to support your studies so you can hold your head high?”

“Why are you so stubborn! You tell me—who exactly are you being stubborn for?!”

“I know you don’t like me, but I’ve been like this for years. I can’t change it! And I’m not planning to!”

“Look at Hong’er—doesn’t he look like you?”

…

Xue Tingrang suddenly felt someone shaking him.

When he opened his tired eyes, he saw the dim inner room, Hu San’s no-longer-young face, even the familiar patterns on the bed canopy.

Only then did he realize he had been dreaming.

But that dream had been too vivid: the scent of sorghum in the air, the stubborn curve of her tightly pressed lips—he could feel it all.

Her tears, sparkling with color as she cried from anger—he had reached out to touch them, but was shaken awake.

“Sir, it’s time for your medicine.”

Xue Tingrang was propped up and fed his medicine.

His illness had reached the point of no return—he needed help even to drink medicine.

Where was the awe-inspiring Grand Chancellor who had dominated court politics for decades?

Oh, right.

He wasn’t the Grand Chancellor anymore.

He had submitted his resignation to retire because of illness. The emperor had approved it.

But he no longer had a home to return to, no family to rely on.

Not that he had planned to go back.

“Minister Zhang, Minister Wang, Minister Li, and Minister Cao all came to visit today, but per your orders they were kept outside. They come every day. They’re here again today. Would you like to see them?”

What could they do by coming?

They only thought his illness was a political ploy—waiting for him to get up and continue leading them against the emperor.

But he truly was sick.

Terminally.

Beyond cure.

“Don’t see them.”

“Then please rest again, my lord.”

The room grew quiet once more.

Xue Tingrang’s eyelids grew heavy again.

He blinked once, twice, and slipped back into sleep.

…

“How does Minister Wang have free time to visit an old dying man like me?”

Wang Mingsheng’s expression was complicated, but he forced a smile.

“Colleagues in court—we should visit the Grand Chancellor, both in sentiment and duty.”

“Never thought you would spout such hypocritical nonsense.

Are you here to check whether I’m dying soon on the emperor’s behalf?”

Xue Tingrang sneered.

Though his face was sallow and skeletal, and he was clearly on death’s door, his calm, unfathomably deep eyes made no one dare underestimate him.

He was Xue Tingrang—whose very name alone was enough to inspire fear.

Decades of power had rooted him like an ancient tree with massive, tangled roots.

He didn’t need to move—his mere presence made people tremble.

Otherwise, why would the new emperor, despite all his scheming, still not dare touch him directly?

“It seems you misunderstand His Majesty greatly.”

Xue Tingrang let out a cold laugh and closed his eyes halfway, clearly unwilling to continue the conversation.

“In truth, I came for myself,” Wang said.

“I came to see how the man who abandoned his wife and child to cling to power—looks now, so lonely and pitiful.

When you die, you won’t even have anyone to mourn you.

But that’s what you chose, isn’t it?

Just a play—something to hear and see.

How did you manage to take a play as truth and anger yourself into this state?

Is it guilt?

Or fear that the world will learn your true nature and curse you forever?”

“You—!”

“Saying you ‘abandoned’ your wife and child is still too polite.

It should be murdered your wife and child.

Shouldn’t it, Grand Chancellor Xue?”

No one knew this.

To the world, Xue Tingrang had a first wife before the current Lady Xue, but no one knew what happened to her.

Too many years had passed; his rivals past and present had all been crushed long ago.

Those who tried to dig up his past had all become lonely ghosts.

Only Wang Mingsheng—the “victim”—knew the truth.

“You… you are…”

Wang leaned close to his ear.

“Pity my mother survived. I survived too.

The shipwreck didn’t kill us—we were rescued.

For so many years, I’ve dreamed of this moment.

But your life was too long, your power too great, so I could only climb step by step until I reached the place where I could pull you down…”

“You are… Hong’er…”

Xue Tingrang forced out the words with great difficulty.

Wang straightened and laughed freely.

“I’m not called Hong’er.

And my surname is not Xue.

It’s Wang.

My mother remarried—the man who saved us…

Don’t get too excited.

Even if you die right now, I’m not your son…”

Wang Mingsheng, known for being calm and restrained, had never laughed so freely before.

“Oh, and don’t think I’ll extend your bloodline as some consolation.”

He paused as if remembering something amusing.

“Let me think—

Wasn’t it you who had people spread rumors that I had a fondness for men?

You actually guessed right.

I truly don’t like women.

Which is why I never married for so many years…”

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