The sun was setting for the day after the fire. The apprentice was helping the bedridden, bandaged Jian drink a special liquid prepared by her uncle when Yang Feng knocked and entered along with Yang Lei. Mo Yuan, the apprentice, and Han Yu bowed. Yang Feng nodded before approaching the bed, eyeing his brother with a sad expression. “How is my brother, elder Han?”

  Han Yu shook his head, his eyes cast down, his cane faintly creaking, “I am deeply sorry, your majesty, but the steward’s condition isn’t too promising. The burns are worse than I imagined. I can’t give any promises. Please forgive my incompetence.”

  He bowed an incomplete bow again. Feng’s eyes clouded with tears, and Lei turned his face away. Jian smiled faintly, patting his brother’s hand with his bandaged one. “Don’t worry, little brother. I will always remain by your side to the end.”

  Yang Lei turned to Mo Yuan, “Marshal Mo, you are dismissed.”

  Mo Yuan looked at him, “But the emperor...”

  Feng interrupted him, “That is all, Marshal. You can leave now, and you are exempt from guarding the steward.”

  Mo Yuan slowly nodded and bowed before leaving quietly. Once he closed the door behind him, he walked the corridor, thinking to himself, “I shall complete my mission, master Yang.”

  Back inside the room, Feng gently touched his brother's hand. “We are doing everything we can to find the truth, eldest brother.”

  Lei continued, his eyes narrowed, “Eldest brother, there was around a 3-hour gap between your dismissal and the start of the fire. Do you remember anything?”

  Jian shook his head, “Not much. I was sitting normally when I heard some clashing steel, some groans, probably from my guards, and then the fire was everywhere. Can you ask my wife here, please? And leave us alone.”

  Feng nodded, and he called a guard and ordered him to bring Yang Yan. After a few seconds, she stood by the door, her mouth muffled by her hands as her eyes fell on her husband. Everyone else retreated quietly, closing the door behind them. The air was tense as she slowly approached the bed. Jian smiled and sat straight up. Yang Yan’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Those aren’t real, right? Please tell me I made the right choice.”

  Jian maintained his reassuring smile. “It may leave a scar, but it isn’t as bad as it looks. I am ok. How are you and Xiao’er doing?”

  Yang Yan cleared her eyes. “We are fine. And I did as you told me. I didn’t tell him anything, just that Father is helping Uncle Feng, and he won’t be available for a while. We shouldn’t scare him for nothing.”

  Jian hugged her with one arm, kissing her forehead. “Go now. Everything will be fine. Just keep up your act.”

  Yang Yan nodded, took out some sand hidden in her robe, and splashed it in her eyes as she resumed the crying act, going out while covering her face. Lei watched his sister-in-law stumble away in tears. He didn't move to comfort her. Instead, he watched the door with narrowed eyes. "Memory is a funny thing, little brother," Lei whispered. "It usually sharpens when the blade is at your throat. It doesn't dull."

  Han Yu told the 2 brothers that Jian needs to rest. Once they were alone in the room again, Han Yu’s back straightened up, and his voice changed. “The advisor’s questions are troublesome, master Yang.”

  Jian nodded slowly, his tone barely steady, “I know. He must be doubting my words right now. There is no way I won’t remember anything after such a tragic event. We need Mo Yuan to finish his mission before my brother’s doubts tear my plan apart.”

  Once Mo Yuan exited the palace, he headed straight to the imperial military barracks, crossed the gates, and headed past the bowing guards. He found Wen Zi Shan in the war room, a massive hall filled with maps and the smell of ink. The Grand Marshal was pacing, his shadow stretching across the floor. Zhang Wu was standing against the wall, eyeing his commander.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  "Mo Yuan," Wen Zi Shan noticed him, "You were ordered to stay by the Steward's side. Why are you here? Has the bastard finally stopped breathing?"

  Mo Yuan bowed, “Not yet, grand marshal, but the emperor has dismissed me. The atmosphere in the 2nd Western Palace is... toxic. They are looking for blood, and they will probably start from here. I noticed that the gates are still sealed."

  Zhang Wu nodded, “Yes, the advisor has ordered to extend the seal until further notice.”

  Wen Zi Shan finally sat down, eyeing Mo Yuan with suspicion. “How do you know they will look here? Do you also believe that I would do something like this?”

  Mo Yuan shook his head. “Not at all, sir. But the emperor’s eyes are on you. I suggest you don’t attend his briefings until either the culprit is found or the tension fades.”

  Zhang Wu looked from the window. “I have led the search of the rubble myself. There is nothing that points at anyone.”

  Mo Yuan: “What is the prime minister’s stand on this?”

  Wen Zi Shan sighed, his mind heavy with doubt. “The burned bastard has messed with Xian Shang’s head. He is convinced that Yang Jian torched his house.”

  Mo Yuan took a step backwards, his eyes narrowing, “That is impossible. Only the demons could do something so malicious. His own kid was in the house, sir. Don't tell you believe this nonsense.”

  Zhang Wu “I don’t”

  Wen Zi Shan held his head with his hands, his mind heavy with doubt. He had no clue who to believe. Xian Shang, who is clearly under Jian’s influence, or the logic that he was raised on as a soldier. Mo Yuan stepped closer to the war table, his voice dropping to a whisper, “Grand marshal, this won’t work. The prime minister is totally clueless, and Han Yu told the emperor that the steward’s condition is worsening. Sooner or later, the advisor will start looking for who had the most to gain from the steward’s death."

  Wen Zi Shan’s eyes darted to Zhang Wu, then back to Mo Yuan. "I have nothing to gain from the death of a servant!"

  Mo Yuan continued, "The Emperor and the advisor don’t see a servant. They see a brother. If he dies, the emperor won’t wait for a trial. He will want a head."

  Zhang Wu approached, too, “Mo Yuan, quit beating around the bush. Do you have a plan, or will you continue telling pointless theories?”

  Mo Yuan smiled, “I do have a plan. Right now, the emperor isn’t looking for the truth. He is looking for a culprit. If we found one for him, he would vent all his anger while we stayed away from his sight.”

  Zhang Wu’s expression changed, and he eyed Mo Yuan as if trying to see beyond his body and into his thoughts and soul. Wen Zi Shan thought of the idea for a minute before nodding, “Great idea, Marshal Mo. We need to divert the attention away from us, but who? If we want to provide a head, it must be one heavy enough to satisfy the grieving Emperor.”

  Zhang Wu intervened, his voice sharpening, "Mo Yuan, you are talking about framing the prime minister of the empire. If this backfires somehow, it won't just be our heads on the block. It will be a civil war."

  Mo Yuan didn't flinch. "The war has already started, General. The first shot was the fire. We are simply deciding which side of the smoke we want to stand on. Besides, we don't need to frame the prime minister directly. Instead, we should target Sou Mo of the Imperial Stud. Everyone knows he is Xian Shang’s lapdog. So, it won’t be surprising that he did something like this to relieve his master of such a massive headache. And it shouldn’t be hard to prove. A single missing gold pouch is more than enough to frame him.”

  Wen Zi Shan looked at the map in front of him. He looked up at Mo Yuan; his voice filled with hesitation. “Minister Sou is the one overseeing the trades with the Wu tribes on the eastern border, and he was giving them extra benefits in exchange for his personal gain; they won’t be too happy with him gone.

  Mo Yuan’s smile didn’t falter. “Exactly, grand marshal. When the border tribes find out their trade-master is gone, they’ll start burning the frontier outposts. The emperor will be so busy with a potential war that he’ll have to stop investigating the fire—and he'll blame the whole mess on Xian Shang’s 'corrupt' government. He will also feel threatened by the potential war, so he will have to rely on us again. We can distance ourselves from Xian Shang, who is clearly distorted because of Yang Jian, and strengthen our own position.”

  Zhang Wu’s face darkened while Wen Zi Shan looked at Mo Yuan with excitement. “I didn’t know I had such a clever strategist by my side. You could easily outplay both Yang Jian and Xian Shang, Marshal Mo. I will leave this matter to you. Don't disappoint me.”

  Mo Yuan smiled and bowed, then left. Zhang Wu followed him to the outside, his fists clenched. Mo Yuan sensed him, so he turned around, spreading his arms, “Marshal Zhang, aren’t I a great....”

  Zhang Wu passed him, his voice whispering, “Tell your master to pray his plan passes smoothly. Because if it doesn’t, he will feel something way worse than what happened to him.”

  He then continued his way without waiting for a reply. Mo Yuan chuckled and thought, “Just as you predicted, master. He is sharp as ever.”