The first two rains of early autumn came suddenly and left abruptly, carrying a strange, inexplicable air. It seemed the first rain was only to welcome Chen Pingping's return, and the second to see him off. After everything at the execution ground before the palace ended, the misty autumn rain ceased just like that. The dark clouds in the sky were blown away, revealing an extremely high, pale, and clear sky. Except for the dampness of the rain in the streets and alleys and on the bluestone bricks, everything returned to normal.

The people of Kyoto, having witnessed such a shocking scene today, dared not discuss it. They dispersed silently along the various street corners. The officials before the palace gates looked at each other, unsure of what to do next. His Majesty had returned to the palace, and Little Lord Fan had left carrying the old Dean's corpse. The rain flowing across the ground did not coalesce into a single idea, leaving them feeling utterly lost.

After a thousand-mile dash back to Kyoto, Fan Xian and the five hundred Black Knights had already violated countless Qing laws and rules of the Supervisory Council. Moreover, when he stormed into Kyoto, he casually killed so many court officials. Adding to that his ruckus at the execution ground in front of His Majesty, according to theory, this was an unforgivable crime. However, since His Majesty did not utter a word of reprimand, who could punish Fan Xian, and who would dare?

Just then, Grand Scholar Hu walked down from the palace wall. Many officials bowed to him. Today, the Grand Scholar had remained silent. He looked at the faint bloodstains on the wooden platform, washed away by the autumn rain. His brow twitched slightly, and he looked back to see the former scholar Shu Wu, seemingly aged ten years in an instant, leaving listlessly along the foot of the city wall, not even offering a greeting to anyone.

Grand Scholar Hu's heart felt a pang, but he knew he could not be controlled by such emotions. Lord He had already entered the palace, and he had to take care of matters here. His gaze slowly swept across the faces of the officials from the Six Ministries, Three Courts, and Three Institutes. He said calmly, "The execution is complete. Open the city gates and resume as usual."

Hearing this, the officials before the palace breathed a sigh of relief. They had been apprehensive about how to handle Little Lord Fan's matter, but it seemed that, at least for the short term, His Majesty could control his anger and would not delegate such dangerous work to his subordinates.

Grand Scholar Hu paid no attention to the ministers' reactions. He narrowed his eyes slightly. He did not see anyone from the Supervisory Council among the officials from the Six Ministries, Three Courts, and Three Institutes, which was normal because the heads of the Supervisory Council's Eight Bureaus were currently imprisoned. As for Little Lord Yan, he seemed to have quietly left long ago.

Not only had the Supervisory Council been controlled with inside and outside cooperation, but a heavy look flashed across Grand Scholar Hu's brow. He knew that some people in the palace had also been controlled, such as Consort Ning and Prince Jing, who had risked their lives to petition His Majesty this morning. They were now under house arrest in the palace, and their condition was unknown.

Moreover, after Lady Fan had treated His Majesty's injuries last night, she had not seemed to come out either. Thinking of these things, and of the ten thousand elite Qing troops still stationed outside the Supervisory Council, Grand Scholar Hu felt a chill in his heart. He knew he had to find Fan Xian immediately and say something to this Little Lord who had the strength and courage to stand up to the palace.

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The midday sun shone fiercely on the Liujing River outside Kyoto. The river water was cool, only slightly warmed, and did not rise in any joyful mist. Across the river was an isolated and elegant courtyard, with gray-white walls, green-yellow bamboo, and a chilling aura. The water on the tiles had been dried into patches of dampness, adding a touch of sweltering heat from bygone days.

In this early autumn heat, a black carriage sped across the bamboo bridge on the Liujing Riverbank and stopped steadily at the entrance of the villa.

This villa was Ye Qingmei's former residence, the place where the Eldest Princess died, and where Fan Xian had paid his respects to the river countless times. After the Ye family incident, it had been incorporated into the Imperial Household Department's property and turned into a villa. However, over the years, His Majesty had rarely come here, and no concubine or prince dared to be so blind as to request a temporary residence here, so it had remained empty for more than twenty years. Only three years ago, when the Eldest Princess was plotting the Kyoto rebellion, she had temporarily resided here for a few days, out of some unknown emotional consideration.

Because this villa was quiet and rarely visited, and because of the chilling historical weight it carried, everyone had an impulse to avoid it, so the inner court's care for it was not particularly diligent or strict. Only four royal guards were stationed here.

Seeing this black carriage ignore the imperial markings outside the villa and charge straight in, the guards looked surprised. They stepped forward, but before they could say anything, they were restrained with crossbows by a group of people rushing out from behind the carriage, disarmed and bound.

A Supervisory Council official stepped forward and silently pulled open the carriage curtain.

With the sound of footsteps, Fan Xian, soaked in rain and pale-faced, stepped out of the carriage, carrying Chen Pingping's corpse. Rainwater dripped from his close-fitting black clothes and the old man's Supervisory Council uniform, making a "drip, drip" sound.

The gate of the Taiping Villa opened. Fan Xian did not look at his subordinates. He walked in solemnly. With a creak, the gate closed tightly behind him. The Supervisory Council officials immediately dispersed, controlling all the key positions at the bamboo bridgehead, watching the surroundings vigilantly.

After a while, the sound of hurried and somewhat chaotic hooves was heard. Hundreds of exhausted Black Cavalry rode along the official road on the Liujing River side.

Then, another thunderous sound of hooves stopped in the distance, not sure if it was the Kyoto Garrison or the Imperial Guard troops.

Finally, a black carriage drove up and stopped opposite the bamboo bridge. An official with an icy expression on his face stepped out of the carriage. It was Yan Bingyun. He did not cross the bridge, but quietly looked at the Supervisory Council officials at the villa entrance on the other side.

Most of the Supervisory Council officials who followed Fan Xian to the Taiping Villa were from the First Bureau, except for a few members of the Qinian Group scattered throughout Kyoto. Yan Bingyun, with the help of the palace, had temporarily controlled the situation in the Supervisory Council's imposing and somber building, but he could not control all Eight Bureaus, especially the First Bureau.

How strong and glorious was Fan Xian’s sole control over the First Bureau back then! The officials of the First Bureau regarded Fan Xian as their ancestor. Today, after the drama before the palace came to an end, shortly after Fan Xian left the palace square carrying Chen Pingping's corpse, the officials of the First Bureau drove a black carriage to meet him.

Yan Bingyun narrowed his eyes, looking at his colleagues on the other side of the bridge. He did not find it strange that Fan Xian held such high prestige in the villa, especially within the First Bureau. He only found it strange that His Majesty had also sent people to watch the First Bureau, and the news was not smooth. How did these officials of the First Bureau know that Fan Xian had just returned to Kyoto? And how did they manage to meet him so coincidentally? It was really puzzling.

Yan Bingyun did not know that the young mistress of the Fan residence had reacted immediately after the news of Chen Pingping's assassination of the emperor came out. She had already made preparations for her husband in advance and had been secretly maintaining contact with the First Bureau. When Fan Xian single-handedly stormed the execution ground, the people of the First Bureau had already begun to move.

As for the hundreds of exhausted but still formidable Black Cavalry, they had received Fan Xian's advance orders to gather at the Taiping Villa. Fan Xian had thought clearly before entering Kyoto that, regardless of whether he could save Old Cripple, he and these people would probably need to meet at the Taiping Villa.

Yan Bingyun stood silently on the bridgehead for a long time, straightened his wet official uniform, and walked alone onto the bridge. The creaking sound continued. He finally reached the other side of the bridge, bowed in the face of the First Bureau officials' wary, hostile, and disdainful gazes, and said in a deep voice, "Yan Bingyun of the Fourth Bureau requests an audience with the Dean."

……

……

Fan Xian did not know that Yan Bingyun had already appeared outside the Taiping Villa, but he could imagine and was certain that someone would come to see him, to persuade him. He could even accurately understand that, as he walked out of Kyoto step by step, countless people were following him. He did not know how many elite Qing troops were now gathered outside the Taiping Villa, waiting for the persuasion to succeed... or fail. This was all His Majesty's intention, right?

But he did not consider these things, nor did he bother to consider them. He only felt very tired, very exhausted. His body was empty. The true energy that was usually as abundant as mountains and rivers seemed to have been vomited out in that previous cry. The turbid air in his chest was vomited out, and the true energy was also vomited out. All that remained was emptiness.

Fan Xian felt that his steps had never been so heavy as today, and his body had never been so weak. The old man in his arms was clearly very light, but why was he getting heavier and heavier? So heavy that he could hardly hold him.

His slightly damp hair hung on his forehead. Carrying Chen Pingping, he walked across the lawn, past the flowering tree, past the small enclosed lake, and came to a secluded place. There were flowers on the wall. He gently picked a small yellow flower that was blooming timidly.

Then he reached out and gently pressed a corner of the flower wall. With a few creaking sounds, a hole slowly appeared in the ground, with stone steps leading down. It was not too far, and the sunlight in the sky could fully illuminate the dry stone slabs below.

The Taiping Villa had a secret room, which was probably not a secret to those old people back then. Even the Eldest Princess, who was still young at the time, had found one in the villa. After the Ye family incident, the emperor should have also come to the villa to search for the box, but he did not find it. Coupled with his somewhat strange feelings about this courtyard, he had not come back since.

For Fan Xian, this secret passage was very familiar because many years ago, after opening that box, Uncle Wuzhu had taken him to the Taiping Villa, down this passage, to find the bullets that the fire stick needed most.

Walking down step by step seemed like entering the underworld, but it was actually just a secret room about three zhang from the ground. The room was dry and clean, without any other furnishings or treasures, just a few chairs and a few coffins.

Fan Xian put one hand on the edge of a coffin, used a little force, and lifted the coffin lid. Then, he carefully placed the old man's thin body inside, taking a small porcelain pillow and gently placing it behind his head. He looked at the silk in the coffin, tilted his head slightly, and did not cover him.

Chen Pingping's eyes were tightly closed, and his naked body was only covered by the Supervisory Council uniform that Fan Xian had taken off. Fan Xian stood next to the coffin, quietly looking at his gaunt cheeks and sunken eye sockets. He suddenly felt that this all-black uniform was more suitable than those gorgeous silks.

That all-black uniform was a Supervisory Council uniform. The one Fan Xian took off was naturally the Dean of the Supervisory Council's style. In Fan Xian's opinion, Chen Pingping's life was difficult to judge, but he must have liked to die as the Dean of the Supervisory Council.

Fan Xian just stood quietly next to the coffin, looking at the sleeping Chen Pingping. He thought of the scene at the execution ground earlier, in the autumn rain, when the old man seemed to have gradually fallen asleep in his arms. Before falling asleep, he held his hand tightly. He shouldn't have been afraid, right?

Looking at that old and pale face, Fan Xian suddenly remembered many things. When he was very young, the old man who liked to put a wool blanket on his knees asked Teacher Fei Jie to teach him, to teach him how to protect himself in this dangerous world, and to familiarize himself with all the regulations and structure of the Supervisory Council from a very young age. Probably from the day he was born, the old man had already planned to leave his most treasured Supervisory Council to him.

Fan Xian thought of the first time he saw Chen Pingping, which was in that dark room in the Supervisory Council. Although it was the first time they had met, when he looked at the old cripple in the wheelchair, it was as if he was seeing an elder he had not seen for a long time. A natural closeness filled their hearts.

That day, Fan Xian lowered his head and gently hugged the thin Chen Pingping, touching his face, just like he hugged him and touched his face today.

Watching fish and discussing the world by the shallow pond, gently playing with small flowers, two wheelchairs chasing and dancing in the Chen Garden, it would probably never happen again, right? He couldn't think about it anymore. Fan Xian tightly closed his eyes, then opened them again and lowered his body, gently placing the trembling little yellow flower he was holding in Chen Pingping's white hair at his temples.

……

……

After a long silence, Fan Xian did not say anything more. He closed the lid of the coffin, picked up the prepared large nails from the side, aimed at the edge of the coffin lid, and then channeled his power into his palm and chopped down.

Several muffled sounds rang out one after another. Fan Xian silently slapped the nails one by one, nailing all the large nails in, nailing the entire coffin tightly shut, imprisoning the old man in another world, a world that he could never touch again.

After doing all this, Fan Xian began to stare blankly at the black coffin. This was just a temporary measure. One day, Fan Xian would send the old man back to his hometown, or to a clear and beautiful place that no one knew, and would not let him stay near this dark Kyoto forever. Although this was the Taiping Villa, and Chen Pingping must have liked living here, it was still too close to Kyoto, too close to the palace.

Fan Xian's body swayed slightly, and he felt an endless wave of weariness and exhaustion begin to surge into his heart. He sat down on the high-legged wooden chair next to him, placed his legs on the edge of the chair, buried his head deeply between his knees, and let his hands droop weakly by his side.

The marks on his right palm, cut by the nails, began to bleed, and blood dripped to the ground.

Fan Xian just sat there with his head buried, not knowing how long he had been sitting there. The rainwater that had accumulated on the lawn of the Taiping Villa began to flow down the stone steps, wetting one layer after another, cooling one layer after another.

……

……

The sunlight slowly shifted in the sky, and the light in the underground secret room also flickered, whether it was the angle of the light or the thickness of the clouds that brought this about. A trace of sound entered Fan Xian's ears. He slowly raised his head from between his knees, stepped off the chair, glanced at the silent and dark coffin again, and walked up the already wet stone steps.

After a strange sound, the secret door above the stone chamber was tightly closed, and not a single ray of sunlight or a trickle of water could penetrate in. The place returned to peace and darkness.

Fan Xian walked along the small path in the grass beside the lake towards the entrance of the Taiping Villa. When he reached a place not far from the wooden door, he heard a low report from a subordinate of the First Bureau. A complex expression flashed across Fan Xian's cold face, and he whispered something, then sat down on a section of broken tree in the courtyard.

The wooden door opened, and Yan Bingyun walked in, standing in front of Fan Xian, bowing his head, not speaking for a long time, perhaps not knowing how to start.

"Start from the day there was movement in the palace. You should have been involved from beginning to end, so I don't want to miss any details." Fan Xian sat wearily on the broken tree root, his right hand resting on his knee, his face an unhealthy white.

Yan Bingyun glanced at his right hand and found that it was bleeding. His heart trembled slightly, but he did not offer much explanation. Instead, he said calmly, "On the second day of the month, I was summoned to the palace and received an imperial decree, so I began to make arrangements. As for Grand Scholar He arresting Gao Da in Dazhou, and His Majesty using this matter to keep the Dean in Dazhou, and then using the Kyoto Garrison to capture people, I only knew the general outline and did not know the details."

"Tell me the details you know."

Yan Bingyun looked at Fan Xian, who was bowing his head, and found that Little Lord Fan today was different from any other time. His facial expression was so calm, so calm that it was frightening, completely unlike the reaction a normal person should have.

From that morning when the Kyoto Garrison escorted the black carriage into Kyoto, to the arguments in the imperial study in the palace, to His Majesty being seriously injured, to Chen Pingping being injured by the celadon cup and imprisoned in the Supervisory Council's prison, Yan Bingyun did not hide any details, even clearly confessing the ugly role he played in it.

Fan Xian was silent for a moment, then slowly raised his head, looked at him and said, "Then what are you doing following me at this time? Do you want to drag that old cripple back and cut him a few more times? Or do you want to make sure he has no burial place?"

Yan Bingyun did not need to control his emotions in front of him. A trace of genuine grief appeared on his face, and he said in a hoarse voice, "This subordinate must see you, Dean. I want to ensure that you don't go crazy."

"What is going crazy? Rebelling?" The corners of Fan Xian's lips curled up, and his laughter was full of chill. "Aren't those troops from the Kyoto Garrison and the Imperial Guard outside the villa for that purpose?"

At this time, there was a sense of dust and smoke outside the villa. Although the earth had just experienced an autumn rain, it showed a sense of dryness. Who knew how many troops were actually ambushed outside the Taiping Villa, how many experts were there to suppress Fan Xian.

Yan Bingyun forcefully controlled his mind and looked at Fan Xian coldly, saying, "No matter what, the old Dean is gone. No matter how angry you are, you can't change that. Even if you can escape Kyoto, what can you do? It's true that Deng Ziyue is in Xiliang, Su Wenmao is in the Minbei Inner Treasury, Xia Qifei is in Suzhou, the key members of the Qinian Group, and the most powerful officials and spies in the council have all been dispatched by me and scattered in the places that you control the most tightly. Once you leave Kyoto, you can regain six percent of the Supervisory Council's strength, but... what can you do?"

Fan Xian looked at him coldly, not saying a word.

"Okay, now you are the master of the Sword Hut in Dongyi City, and you have countless swordsmen at your disposal. Plus, the First Prince is stationed in Dongyi City with ten thousand elite soldiers, but... those ten thousand elite soldiers may not be completely controlled by the First Prince. To put it another way, would the First Prince rebel against His Majesty because of you or the Old Dean?" Yan Bingyun's lips were a little dry and his throat was a little congested, but he still said forcefully, "Prince Hongcheng is in Dingzhou, and he is your close friend, but even if he raises troops for you, will those Dingzhou troops listen to him?"

"I have to say that in this world today, only you have the strength to stand against His Majesty, but... you are still not His Majesty's opponent."

"Are you finished?" Fan Xian squinted at him, shook his head wearily, and said, "If you want to persuade me, shouldn't you take out the letter that Chen Pingping left for you?"

Yan Bingyun's body shook. He originally thought that what he had done within the Supervisory Council these days would definitely anger Fan Xian, but he did not expect that the other party had known everything from the beginning.

Fan Xian looked at him, "However, even if you take it out, I don't want to read it. It's nothing more than to take care of the so-called overall situation, to prevent the Supervisory Council from temporarily losing control and being strongly wiped out by His Majesty... So you must become His Majesty's second dog, forcibly preserve this council. In order to gain the trust of that man, you must do something."

"I know you're not feeling well, you're uncomfortable." Fan Xian looked at the slightly lost Yan Bingyun and said coldly, "But this is your own doing. Do you think there's a sense of joy in enduring humiliation and bearing a heavy burden? Wrong, you're just still full of water in your head. Chen Pingping, whatever he wants to do, you just listen to him? If he wants you to kill him, you kill him too?"

"The old Dean is considering the lives of thousands of Supervisory Council members and for the people of this world." Yan Bingyun said in a slightly hoarse voice, "Even if I suffer some misunderstandings and become a thorn in the eyes of the officials in the council, so what? Am I supposed to watch the world fall into chaos?"

"Why can't the world fall into chaos? Considering the people of the world?" Fan Xian suddenly laughed strangely, his laughter mixed with coughs, coughing out a few strands of blood. "How many of these people of the world... have considered them?"

"I don't forgive you." Fan Xian quietly looked at Yan Bingyun, but every word he spoke was chilling, "Everything for Qing, everything for His Majesty, everything for the world, this is your attitude, but not my attitude. For the people I care about, what if millions of people die? And you didn't do all this for me... so, I don't forgive you."

Yan Bingyun knew that under Fan Xian's gentle exterior was a heart that was extremely strong in love and hate. After a long silence, he suddenly said, "I don't need anyone's forgiveness. The old Dean's choice and my opinion are the same, so I did this. For Qing, I can do anything."

"Very good, this is how you can become a good minister of His Majesty, because for those dead commoners, he may be a good emperor." Fan Xian slowly stood up, "But for me, neither he nor you are people who can be trusted even a little, because in your hearts, there are things that are more important than partners."

"Prince Jing and Consort Ning are under house arrest in the palace, and Lady Fan is also in the palace." Yan Bingyun suddenly felt a little cold and said quickly.

Fan Xian's reply was very mocking and cold, "For His Majesty, this is a matter of course."

Watching Fan Xian walk towards the wooden door with tired steps, Yan Bingyun's heart suddenly tightened, and an uncontrollable fear surged into his heart. This was not fear for himself, but worry for Fan Xian. He shouted loudly, "Where are you going?"

Fan Xian's hand on the wooden door stiffened slightly. He did not turn his head and said wearily, "Going home to sleep."

……

……

Walking out of the wooden door of the Taiping Villa, looking at the officials of the First Bureau of the Supervisory Council who were facing a formidable enemy at the bridgehead, looking at the hundreds of dusty Black Cavalry on the other side of the bridge, who were already suppressing their fatigue and barely forming a defensive formation, Fan Xian sighed in his heart. On the other side of the bridge, beyond the green and yellow autumn forest, the emperor's army used to suppress him, how could they be resisted by the subordinates he had brought back to Kyoto in a hurry?

The bright sun dazzled his eyes for a moment. Only then did he realize that the harm of fatigue and sadness to human beings could be so great. He walked across the bamboo bridge with shaky steps, gently issuing a few orders to the subordinates who were still desperately following him at this tense moment.

The Deputy Commander of the Black Cavalry and the officials of the First Bureau were silent for a long time, but they also knew that Little Lord Fan was considering the lives of these people. Without saying anything more, they all knelt on one knee, not knowing whether they were kneeling to the young Dean in front of them or the old Dean buried in the Taiping Villa.

After one kneel, hundreds of people mixed together and retreated westward along the beautiful and quiet Liuxi River.

Yan Bingyun, who had been silently following Fan Xian, glanced at those people with complicated eyes. He followed him across the bridge, onto the official road, and then saw thousands of cavalry with full armor covering the fields on the other side of the official road. These cavalry were densely packed and their momentum was amazing.

Fan Xian looked expressionlessly at these powerful forces, put his hands behind his back, and slowly walked over. In the eyes of countless wary gazes, he walked to the front of the general and said in a hoarse voice, "Withdraw the scouts and ambushers. I want my people to be unharmed."

Ye Zhong narrowed his eyes slightly, and a cold light flashed in his eyes.

……

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(I have a cold, it's been two days, and I can't take it anymore. I'm eating a lot of medicine, but I'm still sore and my brain is dizzy, which is very uncomfortable. Many good book reviews have been missed because the leader has also been sick recently. I really feel sorry for the friends who worked hard to write book reviews.

Also: Thank you to the brothers who voted for bastards in Shui Mu Li. I haven't been lurking for a long time. Yesterday I had a thought and took a look, but I saw the votes on idealism pp and rations. If you like it, I am very grateful and grateful.

Finally, thank you to Jumping Dance, thank you everyone, and continue to ask for your support for monthly tickets.)