Chapter Two: Negotiations

Liang Chen lay on the couch, meeting the gaze of the person perched over him. That person possessed strikingly beautiful eyes, with a tiny black mole just beneath the left one; when he blinked in feigned innocence, the small mole seemed to move with a mischievous life of its own.

“You…”

At the sound of Liang Chen’s hoarse voice, still thick with wine, Yan Jun abruptly sobered. He wrenched free of Liang Chen’s grasp and scrambled off the couch, blurting, “I—I didn’t mean any harm.”

Liang Chen sat up. The scarlet inner robe he wore had loosened during sleep, spilling across his frame in lazy disarray. His face, tinged with weariness, completed an air of unguarded languor.

He straightened his clothing, then lifted his gaze to Yan Jun, who looked as though he wanted to burrow into the ground. “How did you get in here?”

“I…” Yan Jun’s voice fell to a near whisper. “I, well…”

“Raise your head when you speak.”

There was an unmistakable sharpness in Liang Chen’s voice, one that brooked no refusal. Yan Jun steadied his own chaotic thoughts, forcing himself to look up and meet Liang Chen’s eyes. “I snuck in.”

“Then those guards outside are quite useless.” Liang Chen glanced at the door. “They can each go and receive twenty strokes.”

Yan Jun’s heart lurched; he clearly had not expected to involve the two men in his trespass. At once, he strode over and spoke urgently: “They’ve done nothing wrong—this is my fault. Please don’t punish them.”

But Liang Chen only shot him a mocking look. Passing by him, he said in a cool tone, “Neglect of duty should be punished.”

Yan Jun heard footsteps receding into the distance until they disappeared. His back was clammy with cold sweat. This was not the Liang Chen he had written—at least, he was nothing like the one in the original manuscript.

In that story, although Liang Chen had suffered greatly under the whims of fate, once he went to Anbei, the Xiao family doted on him as though he were their own son. Over time, he grew into a proud and gallant figure, spirited and bold.

Yet this current Liang Chen was mercurial and inscrutable, nothing like the man on the pages Yan Jun remembered.

Liang Chen picked up a teacup from the table and drank, easing his dry throat. “You invaded my study on your own initiative. For what purpose?”

“I…”

The words tangled on Yan Jun’s tongue. He had intended to tell Liang Chen that he was a stand-in for the real Miss Lin, then persuade him to cooperate with fulfilling a particular task. Yet he now found himself in a situation far more complicated than expected.

Liang Chen waited a moment, but hearing nothing more, he spoke with palpable fatigue. “Enough. I am weary. If there is nothing else, please return to your room and rest.”

He paused, then added, “You have already become the Consort of Prince Jing. I would have you behave accordingly. Do not make a mockery of me, nor do anything foolish.”

With that, Liang Chen turned to head back to the inner chamber. Yan Jun watched his retreating figure, his fists clenching at his sides.

“Your Highness—I want to serve as your strategist.”

He spoke with his back to Liang Chen, eyes squeezed shut, seized by a desperate resolve. He could not bear letting this chance slip away.

Sure enough, Liang Chen halted, turning to look at him. “Strategist? And just what do you intend to plan for me?”

Yan Jun opened his eyes and met Liang Chen’s gaze head-on, his words precise and unwavering. “I want to help Your Highness seize the realm.”

A second later, Yan Jun caught the sudden chill that flashed through Liang Chen’s eyes. Liang Chen strode forward, and before Yan Jun could defend himself, a hand clamped around his throat.

Reared amid battlefields, Liang Chen’s strength was formidable. Yan Jun felt his feet leaving the floor, his breath constricting painfully. He clawed at the prince’s hand, but to no avail.

“I told you,” Liang Chen said, his voice low and cold, “all I want from you is to stay in your place as the Princess Consort of Prince Jing. Don’t do anything stupid.”

He tightened his grip, waiting until Yan Jun was nearly out of air before finally letting go. Yan Jun collapsed onto the ground, choking and coughing in a fit of helpless rage.

Amid the coughing, Liang Chen seemed to notice something. He suddenly yanked Yan Jun’s collar aside. Yan Jun, too weak to resist, merely fended him off with violent coughing spells.

“Cough…cough…”

A shadow flickered across Liang Chen’s face, a sneer tugging at his lips as he rose to his feet. “Such nerve, Lin family. Peach in place of plum is one thing—but to send a man in place of their daughter? Looks like I’ve been too lenient.”

“Cough…” Yan Jun finally caught a breath, pulling his collar back in place and glaring up at Liang Chen. “Could Your Highness not see this as an advantage? The Lin family’s wealth rivals that of a small kingdom. The Emperor hopes to bind them to the throne by marrying Miss Lin into the imperial clan, making the Lin family little more than the imperial treasury. But now that the Lin family has sent me to stand in her place, the leverage has shifted to you. If used properly, the Lin family is yours for the taking.”

Liang Chen studied Yan Jun—sitting on the ground, eyes reddened from lack of air, tears glimmering faintly at the corners. Though his features had a certain softness that bordered on feminine, they only added to his fragile allure.

“An interesting ploy,” Liang Chen said icily. “But the Lin family has no real value to me.” His voice was so frigid that Yan Jun felt a tremor deep in his bones.

Still, he could not allow fear to cloud his mind, for he knew Liang Chen genuinely meant him harm. He forced himself to remain calm.

“Truly?” Yan Jun let out a soft laugh and climbed unsteadily to his feet. “If the Lin family has no worth, then why did you marry a daughter of that house? Do not tell me it was merely the Emperor’s decree. You grew up in Anbei, far from courtly influence, so one edict alone would never sway you.”

Yan Jun drew a little closer, ignoring the rising anger in Liang Chen’s eyes, and continued, “There is only one thing that could affect Your Highness—Anbei. If I am not mistaken, you not only need the Lin family, you need them desperately. The Lin merchants operate throughout the Great Liang Kingdom, having established a dedicated trade route—one you require for your plans.”

“And am I wrong?”

Yan Jun ended with a faint, ambiguous smile. Liang Chen looked him in the eye and returned, “Never mind whether I require the Lin family. If I did, I would need their daughter, not you. Who are you supposed to be?”

“Who am I…” Yan Jun backed up a pace to open some space between them. “Without me, the Lin family remains forever the Empire’s resource. But because of me, the Lin family can become yours.”

The study fell silent when Yan Jun finished speaking. No one else was present, and only the faint crackle of candle wicks marked the flow of time.

Outside, Mid-Autumn festivities filled the city streets with moon-viewing and ancestral offerings, the celebrations colored by fireworks blooming in the night sky. One burst of shimmering light tore through the hush in the study.

Liang Chen moved to the table and poured two cups of tea, nudging one cup toward the edge of the table. “We’re speaking of cooperation. May I at least know who you truly are?”

Yan Jun understood the gesture. He approached, lifted the cup, and took a measured sip before answering, “My surname is Yan. My given name is simply Jun, styled Siyuan.”

Liang Chen echoed it softly, “Siyuan… ‘Reaching far, traversing the realm in an instant.’ A fine courtesy name. A pity.”

“A pity?” Yan Jun asked, perplexed.

Liang Chen’s tone was flat. “Your proposal does not interest me in the slightest. You’d best look elsewhere and stop wasting your efforts.”

“Things that don’t interest you now may yet hold meaning in time,” Yan Jun replied calmly. He twirled the teacup between his fingers, the earlier panic nowhere to be seen, replaced by a slow-growing smile.

A long silence passed. At length, Yan Jun set the cup down, its clear ring breaking the stillness. Rising, he walked over to the bookshelves.

“The Emperor is advanced in years, and the struggle for succession is brewing.” He plucked a military treatise from the shelf and flipped through its pages, though he could scarcely decipher the traditional script.

Liang Chen seemed unperturbed. “That hardly concerns me. I have no interest in that throne.”

Yan Jun, eyes aching at characters he could not read, closed the book with a slight smile. “If that is so, why marry into the Lin family? With Your Highness’s temperament, if you disliked the match, you would simply refuse the imperial decree. The Emperor wouldn’t really punish you. Unless, of course…” He paused and let the words hang. “Perhaps Your Highness truly cares for Miss Lin?”

Liang Chen stared at him without answering. Yan Jun gazed back, noticing the flash of tempered hostility had vanished from Liang Chen’s eyes. He allowed himself to breathe easier—his gamble had paid off.

In the original story, Liang Chen never took a wife until the day he died. But now he had married—and into the Lin family, no less, though Yan Jun stood in Miss Lin’s place. One way or another, everything was changing: Liang Chen, this world, and the path it might take—especially with Yan Jun’s arrival. All was in flux now.

Yan Jun replaced the book on the shelf, then quipped lightly, “If Your Highness truly has affections for her, then I fear I’ve ruined a fated union. My apologies.”

He paused and let his tone sharpen just a fraction. “Yet since I disrupted that union, allow me to offer Your Highness something else in return.”

“And what is that?” Liang Chen asked, mild curiosity stirring in his gaze.

“A wager—for the realm itself. If anyone else may vie for this kingdom, why not you? You yearn to protect Anbei. Rather than entrusting it to another, why not seize power in your own hands?”

Liang Chen’s pupils contracted, and Yan Jun leaned in, his breath ghosting near Liang Chen’s ear. “Your Highness, will you make a wager with me?”

The soft warmth of Yan Jun’s voice brushed Liang Chen’s mind like a feather, triggering an uneasy itch beneath his skin. He clamped a hand around Yan Jun’s wrist, the one that had dared to rest upon his shoulder. This fellow was far too bold, always pushing his limits.

Even after Liang Chen’s display of ruthlessness earlier, this man showed no fear, persisting in his attempts to draw closer.

“Why should I trust you when I don’t even know who you truly are?” Liang Chen asked in a rasp.

Yan Jun’s voice took on a teasing lilt. “It hardly matters who I am. What matters is that I’m here to help you, Your Highness.”

He dragged out the final words, lacing them with a quiet, almost bewitching cadence.

Liang Chen stood then, his tone calm yet firm. “Let us say that none of this ever happened tonight. From now on, do your duty as the Consort of Prince Jing and forget these stray ambitions.”

Yan Jun knew that a seed of longing had already been planted in Liang Chen’s mind. He followed suit, rising slowly to stand beside him. “Your Highness, once such a seed is sown, it will flourish like wild grass, uncontainable until the spring bloom. No one can stop it or erase it.”

*

After Yan Jun left, Liang Chen remained alone in the study, half of his face lit by the wavering flame of the candle. Weariness weighed heavily on his features.

Two months ago, he should have perished on the battlefield. Yet when he next opened his eyes, he found himself returned to his twentieth year—a phenomenon beyond all logic, which he accepted as a glimmer of hope.

In his previous life, he had lived recklessly, ultimately losing his family and dying in the dust of war. This time, he had no wish to sit by and await the same fate.

He had only just begun altering the course of his past, yet heaven had already thrust this mysterious individual into his path. Whether he was blessing or bane remained to be seen.

“Wei Yan. Cheng Zhao.”

At Liang Chen’s summons, two figures stepped into the study, bowing simultaneously. “Your Highness.”

“Wei Yan, from this day on, keep close watch on that person. I want to know his every move. Cheng Zhao, travel to Yangzhou and uncover his true identity.”

Was that man friend or foe?