"Ninth Prince..." he sneered, his eyes flashing with a chilling light, "I'd like to see how many lives you have to pay for this!"

Su Peisheng nervously reported at the door: "Your Majesty, Zhao Deyong, the magistrate of Shangyang County, requests an audience, saying that he has captured Chen Yu's accomplices."

Yongzheng didn't even look up: "Tell him to get lost."

Su Peisheng swallowed hard, forcing himself to say, "But that man confessed that Chen Yu is backed by Eighth Master..."

Yongzheng suddenly raised his eyes, his gaze sharp as a knife: "Bring him in."

A moment later, Zhao Deyong forced a blood-covered man to kneel in the courtyard. Emperor Yongzheng stood with his hands behind his back, his voice chillingly cold: "Speak."

The man stammered, "Eighth Master... Eighth Master ordered Chen Yu to suppress Miss Lin, but Miss Lin caught him red-handed. When Ninth Master found out, he sent assassins to silence her..."

Yongzheng closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again, his gaze filled with murderous intent: "Issue my oral decree: the Eighth and Ninth Princes are confined to their residences and are not to leave without an imperial edict. All those involved in the case in Shangyang County shall be executed by slow slicing!"

Zhao Deyong was so frightened that he collapsed to the ground, repeatedly kowtowing: "Your subject obeys the decree! Your subject obeys the decree!"

Yongzheng turned back into the room and looked at Lin Yun, who was still unconscious. His heart was filled with pain and hatred.

He leaned down and whispered in her ear, "I will not let anyone go... You must promise me that you will wake up."

Outside the window, the rising sun cast golden light on Lin Yun's face, gilding her pale skin with a warm hue. Yongzheng reached out and gently tucked the blanket around her, his movements incredibly tender.

"I'm waiting for you," he whispered, his voice filled with an unprecedented tenderness and determination.

As the sun rose higher outside the window, Yongzheng suddenly felt a slight itch in his palm—Lin Yun's little finger was gently hooking his thumb.

"Fourth...Master...?" She spoke in a weak voice, but stubbornly opened her eyes a crack, her pupils unfocused. "You...look really good in your night clothes."

Yongzheng froze, then burst into laughter. As he laughed, he pressed his forehead against the back of her hand, his shoulder blades trembling violently. "You wretched thing..." he cursed hoarsely, "I should have let you fend for yourself."

Lin Yun weakly curved the corners of her mouth into a smile before falling back into a deep sleep. This time, her breathing was much more even, as if she had finally found her home.

Yongzheng rose, the tenderness in his eyes vanishing, replaced by an abyss of ice.

He pushed open the door and coldly addressed the kneeling crowd in the courtyard: "Reveal my imperial edict—"