Chapter 18: The Gentle Rain Cleanses the Long Street Through the Night

—Capital City, Prime Minister’s Residence.

The night hung heavy and dim, the skies shrouded in endless gray clouds, carrying a faint dampness and promise of rain in the air.

Though the rear courtyard of the Prime Minister’s residence was spacious, it bore no sense of grand construction. The pavilions and chambers were simple and elegant, restrained in their rustic charm. The garden was modestly tended, lush with greenery. With autumn’s approach, pale golden leaves fell gently, lending the scene a touch of desolation. The corridors were wide and even.

Han Shaozhen and Yan Kuang walked one after the other along the corridor. At home, Han Shaozhen dressed casually in a loose-fitting dark blue robe, his posture relaxed and steps light, a look of ease upon him.

In contrast to Han Shaozhen’s comfort, Yan Kuang’s expression was calm but thoughtful, as if wrestling with his own reflections.

Han Shaozhen exhaled deeply, sighing with emotion. “With the Third Prince’s protection, His Majesty’s suspicions are finally eased. Kuang’er, from now on…”

He caught Yan Kuang’s knowing glance and smiled. “It will still be the world of just the two of us.”

Since time immemorial, none who pursued the imperial examinations dared to settle for mediocrity; all dreamed of wielding great power. Yan Kuang understood this well but found it difficult to reconcile the man before him, the current prime minister, with the one he once knew.

Seeing Yan Kuang’s cold silence, Han Shaozhen pressed on. “Kuang’er, you’ve taken leave these past days without reason. Has your old injury flared up again? The doctors I sent were all dismissed by you. Since you came today, I’ll have someone summon a physician immediately!”

Still, Yan Kuang said nothing. No matter how much time passed, Han Shaozhen’s concern always stirred a flicker of hope within him.

But such days were truly over.

Yan Kuang slowed his pace and lifted his eyes. “I will no longer attend court.”

“What?”

Han Shaozhen, about to call someone, froze, unable to process the words.

Yan Kuang spoke calmly, “His Majesty has approved my resignation and departure from the capital.”

Yan Kuang was no frivolous youth. Han Shaozhen knew well this was no joke, yet he found it hard to accept the reality before him.

Perhaps realizing the futility of lamenting his fate, Han Shaozhen simply gestured toward Yan Kuang before slapping his own thigh in frustration.

Yan Kuang met his gaze with an impassive tone laced with bitter sarcasm. “Who would have thought that losing this pawn of mine could sadden Prime Minister Han so deeply… Prime Minister, do not grieve excessively—take care of your health.”

Han Shaozhen sighed deeply.

Knowing the matter was irreversible, he steadied himself. “Kuang’er… you speak childishly again. Over the years, I have told you time and again, you are not a pawn to me. You are my only kin in this world. I have always regarded you as my own son…”

“Enough!”

Seemingly weary of such words, Yan Kuang’s sharp voice cut him off, returning a cold glare. “Where were you back then?”

Underwater, amidst the crowd, amid shouts and pleas—young as he was, he was kept out of the throng’s wrathful voices. He screamed hoarsely, with all his might, finally pushing through, bloodied, into the crowd—

To witness his mother’s hands and feet bound, sinking beneath the water.

To see her desperate, sorrowful eyes swallowed by the waves.

The memory instantly dragged Yan Kuang back to that past. He clenched his fists to break the thoughts but could not calm himself.

He spoke slowly, his expression stiff as he fought back tears.

“Do you even know, until her dying breath… my mother waited for you?”

At these words, Han Shaozhen’s eyes showed a rare flicker of remorse. Deep wrinkles furrowed his brow, yet he maintained his composure, embodying the dignity and authority of a prime minister.

Closing his eyes, Han Shaozhen said, “Kuang’er, whether you believe it or not, at the time, I truly could not free myself. Otherwise… I would have returned. I would never have abandoned you both.”

---

Yan Kuang frowned, unwilling to recall further. He knew the man might be sincere. But unlike himself, he had not witnessed the scene firsthand; the one who had could never let it go.

Nor forgive.

Yan Kuang said, “Those words should have been spoken to her, not to me.”

Han Shaozhen’s heart tightened, and he smiled bitterly. “Kuang’er… do you want me dead?”

Yan Kuang paused. “I dare not, sir.”

Han Shaozhen’s smile faded into seriousness. “Kuang’er, a person lives but a hundred years, never solely for one individual. What you see is hundreds of lives in the Prime Minister’s household tied to me alone.”

“And beyond your sight, countless lives are intertwined with mine, including those dearest to me. I will not die. I will live… longer and stronger than all who hope for my death.”

Yan Kuang knew these were excuses but found it difficult not to agree. Besides, he had never truly wished ill upon Han Shaozhen.

Back then, he was a child abandoned by a father who offered no shelter or pity. Without Han Shaozhen, his life would have ended long ago.

Though later betrayed by ties of affection and now estranged, how could he wish death upon his savior?

Lowering his gaze, Yan Kuang softened his tone. “Prime Minister Han will surely live a long life. My earlier words were improper. Please forgive me.”

Mentioning old wounds, Han Shaozhen felt a pang of guilt but still looked up to the sky and said gravely, “I know you hate me for vanishing without cause back then and failing to save your mother… But the truth is far more complicated than you think. I swear to you, in this lifetime, I have never betrayed your mother, Yan Sushang.”

At the mention of the late woman’s name, Han Shaozhen inhaled deeply and furrowed his brow, tears glimmering in his eyes. For Yan Kuang, his mother’s name was distant, almost unreal.

Old grievances resurfaced. Yan Kuang restrained his anger. “When you wooed her, did you ever consider that she was the daughter of a disgraced official, a lowly concubine who ran away with her husband’s eldest brother? Did you think of what fate awaited her?”

“Kuang’er!”

Struck to the heart, Han Shaozhen frowned and retorted, “You know that is not true! Why say such things to wound me? If I had not risked my life to protect your mother and you, where would you be today?”

Yan Kuang said nothing, merely gazing at him coldly. That look reminded Han Shaozhen painfully of a past love, shaking the confidence from his voice.

Han Shaozhen softened his tone. “I know much has happened since… You hate me, blame me—I can understand all of it. But life is unpredictable… Do you know how elated I was when I learned you were still alive?”

“Over these years, you and I have complemented each other—one civil, one martial. I rose to prime minister; you commanded the entire Military Affairs Office. Though I have made you do many things against your will, the situation is now favorable. The things you seek—the affairs of the Han family, your sect—they will all eventually come to light…”

“Why, then, do you insist on resigning?”

Yan Kuang listened quietly, nodding faintly when Han Shaozhen finished.

Time was running short.

With renewed composure, Yan Kuang said, “Indeed, you have treated me better than my own father. But after all these years, I have used you and been born and died by your hand, yet not repaid the debt. Today, I will settle what I owe you once and for all.”

With that, Yan Kuang swiftly lowered his hand, grasped the hilt of his sword at his waist, and in a flash, drew it across his neck!

“Kuang’er!”

Han Shaozhen was horrified. The cold gleam of the blade pierced his eyes, shattering his composure. Though nearing the age of wisdom, he rushed forward recklessly, gripping Yan Kuang’s wrist tightly.

“What do you want, child?”

Han Shaozhen was frantic, pulling at the sword hand to move the blade just half an inch from his throat.

Yan Kuang remained unmoved. “I return this life to you, seeking only that we owe each other nothing. The political arena is perilous, Prime Minister Han. Take care of yourself—I will no longer accompany you.”

“No… no, Kuang’er…”

Han Shaozhen held Yan Kuang’s wrist firmly, afraid that if he loosened his grip, blood would spill right there. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, as if steeling himself.

“Yan Kuang… very well! I see you came today to spite me and avenge your mother! Listen well! Your life is in my hands and means nothing! I have plenty of capable men under me! This pawn of mine—I no longer want it!”

“You have resigned, haven’t you? Then let the bridge be the bridge, the road be the road. Go wherever you wish!”

Han Shaozhen deliberately lowered his voice but could not contain his excitement; tears welled in his eyes. His tone even softened with a hint of pleading.

“Put down your sword! Leave now! I won’t stop you! Release your hand… release it!”

Amid repeated commands, Han Shaozhen finally succeeded in pressing the sword away from Yan Kuang’s hand.

After their tense struggle, Han Shaozhen was out of breath but laughed aloud. “Ha ha ha… An old man can never match the skill of a master of the Military Affairs Office… Ah, the former director? Useless now, useless…”

Yan Kuang lowered his hand and held the sword, feigning indifference as he watched the man before him.

Han Shaozhen’s temples were streaked with white, the salt-and-pepper hair no longer matching the towering figure Yan Kuang once knew.

Indeed, he had grown old.

Yet Yan Kuang remained stubborn. “Even so, let us call it even.”

“Very well, very well… as you wish.”

Han Shaozhen raised his head to meet Yan Kuang’s restrained, burdened gaze, suddenly reminded of his late mother. Such eyes, filled with despair and disappointment, bore a striking resemblance to hers.

For a moment, Han Shaozhen was lost in thought. Then his voice softened again.

“Kuang’er. If you do not accept my sincerity, then… there is no need to repay any affection to me.”

At this, Han Shaozhen’s throat moved as he sighed long and low. “If you disdain allegiance with me and choose to resign and wander, so be it. But please, do not draw blade or sword before me—I’m not truly afraid of scaring these old bones…”

He sighed once more, touched a pavilion pillar, and slowly sat down, waving his hand.

“Go… go.”

Yan Kuang lifted his sword and turned, pausing at the door before finally saying—

“Take care.”

A decade’s farewell poem spoken, debts of gratitude left light as air.

Leaving the Han residence, Yan Kuang walked alone through the streets of the capital. To him, the city seemed unchanged.

This was the brightest place under heaven, where myriad nations paid tribute, and the lights never seemed to fade. Strange tales and gossip forever filled the ears of the capital’s people.

Days of autumn rain had passed, yet after the storm and wind, the capital remained as bustling as ever. The night was breathtaking, with endless lights flowing like rivers, burning late into the night.

Performers dazzled with their unrivaled skills, cheers ringing out as ripples spread beneath boats on the bridge’s water. The shimmering patterns on the water reflected the fiery fireworks above.

The blaze of fireworks stained the sky beyond the clouds—some ascending to the heavens, layers upon layers, reaching the azure heights; others falling to the mortal realm, wisps of smoke curling, drifting into the winding depths of the underworld.

A day’s lantern mist illuminated red clouds, nine hundred visitors stirred the dark dust.

Tonight, departing the capital, such splendid scenery was a gift to part with—how fortunate indeed.