Mingde Courtyard!

Summer’s charm bathed this abode of Xia Qián—blossoms in riotous splendor.

Spanning four centuries, every clan head called this courtyard home.

Thus, Mingde Courtyard bore the scars of time everywhere.

“Second Brother!”

Xia Chen arrived, spotting a handsome youth—early twenties—emerging.

“Little Chen!”

Xia Xuan, Xia Qián’s second son, served in the Dragon Martial Guard, rising to commandant in mere years through grit alone.

A rising star among the guard’s young blood.

Xia Xuan nodded, his mind flashing to their father’s recent words. His gaze on Xia Chen shifted.

The guard snatching merit from the Lamplighters’ jaws—a first—and this third brother was the linchpin.

“Go in—Father’s waiting!”

No long pleasantries—Xia Xuan dipped his head and left.

Xia Chen wasn’t fazed. Xia Xuan’s cool distance was old news, not malice. As a kid, he’d roamed this yard often, decently close to both brothers.

Grown, he’d moved to a side yard—ties faded.

“Chen’er!”

Xia Chen strode in, finding Xia Qián seated in the courtyard, clearly awaiting him.

After a bow, Xia Chen plopped down, unceremonious. A maid poured tea and retreated.

He grabbed a pastry, munching—damn, tasty.

Perfect breakfast.

He knew this yard like his own—every blade, every maid, etched in memory.

Pre-twelve, he’d spent most days here.

Older, pride kicked in—he left Mingde Courtyard, sticking to his own plot save for holidays.

Xia Qián watched him eat, eyes distant, then spoke slow.

“The defense map—you orchestrated it!”

No outsiders—straight talk.

Near dawn, word hit—he learned of last night’s palace upheaval.

“Sort of—but I split the haul, put Li Wenzhong up front!”

Xia Chen downed a cake, gulped tea, calm as ever.

“You played this smart—still just a commander, fresh in the fray. Standing out too much spells trouble!”

Xia Qián nodded, a glint of approval in his gaze.

“Know what went down last night?”

His tone sharpened, grave.

“After General Li rushed to the palace last night, I headed back—didn’t deal with what followed.” Xia Chen shook his head. The rest was out of his hands—no need to bother

further.

“Lu Li’s toppled!”

Xia Qián’s flat words dropped a bombshell.

Lu Li, twenty-six years helming the Lamplighters—Wen’s hand-picked dark lord.

Master of Dawu’s shadows!

Now fallen—a quake loomed for the court, crushing bigwigs in the reshuffle.

“Over the defense map?”

“Partly. Its theft’s on Lu Li’s watch—his lapse. Then he botched the target—two fat blunders. Last night, stripped of command in the palace.”

Xia Qián sighed, mood dim, lost in thought.

Xia Chen went quiet. Honestly, he hadn’t figured his move would topple Lu Li—a top-five titan in Dawu’s halls.

“Just the spark, right? Twenty-six years wielding the Lamplighters—His Majesty’s blade for dirty deeds, pissing off too many. This fall looks like slip-ups, but really, everyone

wanted a stab!”

Xia Chen sipped tea, scanning around, voice steady.

Xia Qián’s eyes sharpened, piercing for a few breaths, then barked, “Hush—mind your words!”

His scold flared with a glint—his view of Xia Chen flipped.

This housebound kid, cut off from the world, dissecting court currents so keenly—peeling past the surface?

The Xia clan teemed with prodigies, but political acumen like this? Beyond his third brother, few matched.

Even his sons lagged in that game.

Xia Chen had that eye.

Did a shut window truly crack open another?

Xia Qián’s gaze softened.

The Xias never lacked flair or generals—strategic, political minds were the gap.

Without such brains anchoring the clan, brilliance sped rot!

“Maybe the army was wrong for Chen’er—should’ve sent him to books, the scholar’s path. Ease Third Brother’s load, share the strain. Ugh, Second Brother!”

Xia Qián sighed inwardly. He’d planned for Xia Chen to study with Xia Han—Xia Yuan’s letter nixed it. Should’ve ignored him.

Regret gnawed.

Xia Chen didn’t catch how his words spun Xia Qián’s mind.

Seeing him drift, he probed, “Our Majesty’s razor-sharp yet utterly self-serving—decades ruling, ceaselessly stoking clashes between the civil faction and our martial nobles to

keep the court in check.

“Not just that—he used Lu Li and Princess Pingyang to claw back power, dangling them out front.

“While he lurks behind, perched atop the ninth heaven, peering down. Lu Li’s hands drip blood, but which big move wasn’t His Majesty’s call?

“He reaps the gains—Lu Li eats the blame. Our Emperor’s mastery of the game’s pure fire!”

Xia Chen, piecing court threads lately, pegged Wen as his world’s Jiajing—selfish, genius, fifty-plus years wielding power like a maestro!

“Got more takes?”

Shockingly, Xia Qián’s face stayed blank at these irreverent barbs, pressing on instead.