Chapter 11: The Crown Prince of Changping

The Divine Capital, Luoyang. The three characters for "Jianguo Gate" were etched with powerful, vigorous strokes. The city walls on either side stretched endlessly, resembling a coiled, giant dragon.

The Divine Capital’s Celestial Street was paved with blue flagstones, thronged with a ceaseless flow of people in diverse attire—men with blue eyes and large noses, Turkic caravans with camel bells clinking amidst the clatter of iron armor. The hem of a foreign maiden’s dress brushed past a starving wretch on the roadside, occasionally punctuated by her delicate laughter. Along the streets, towering trees were wrapped in colorful silk ribbons, as if draped in brocade robes, fluttering in the breeze.

"A myriad of nations coming to pay homage—what a magnificent sight," Ling Xuan marveled inwardly. "The ancients did not deceive me; the Divine Capital, Luoyang, truly gathers the fortune of the world."

At the city gate, a man in his forties gestured and shouted repeatedly, "Young Prince, over here!"

Ling Xuan looked around, but since no one responded, he realized the man was trotting toward him.

"Young Prince, I am Qiu Fu," the middle-aged man introduced himself hastily. "By the order of the Prince, I have come specifically to escort you and the Heir’s Consort to the estate."

"What?" Ling Xuan’s lips curled up. "I am an Heir?"

"The Prince informed the Divine Emperor that he had found his long-lost son. Having received the Divine Emperor’s grace, you have been enfeoffed as the Heir of Prince Changping," Qiu Fu said, bowing hurriedly. "Please, Heir and Consort, board the carriage."

"Heir of Prince Changping? What is Uncle up to?" Ling Xuan removed his willow-woven hat and chuckled, reaching up to touch his head. "I never imagined that I, a little monk who had just grown hair, would become an Heir and a Young Prince."

"Young Prince, the estate has prepared clothes and food for you," Qiu Fu said with a bow. "Please, return to the estate quickly."

"Has the Prince returned?" Although Qiu Rui had brought them here, the Divine Emperor had issued an urgent decree, forcing Qiu Rui to enter the city early. Ling Xuan had not expected that in less than half a day, he would already be named the Heir.

"The Prince has been ordered to rush to the Demon-Suppressing Abyss. He specifically instructed that until his return, all matters in the estate are to be decided by you, Young Prince," Qiu Fu said, lifting the carriage curtain. "I am currently serving as the estate steward."

The Changping Prince’s estate is mine to command? Ling Xuan was secretly astonished. Was this out of consideration for Zi Yan being a princess of the previous dynasty? Or did Qiu Rui truly regard him as a nephew?

It was rumored that Prince Changping, Qiu Rui, held political views contrary to the Yuwen Clan and stood in direct opposition to them. Knowing that Ling Xuan carried the "Spirit Snake Coiling the Moon" curse, Qiu Rui had already helped him several times, and now he had lied to the Divine Emperor, claiming Ling Xuan was his lost son. If discovered, this would be a capital offense—a crime of deceiving the monarch, punishable by death.

Why would Qiu Rui take such a massive risk? Even for a nephew, there was no need to commit such a crime. Ling Xuan almost froze at the thought of the rumored "extermination of the nine clans"—he realized he was likely one of those nine.

"This is getting interesting, more and more interesting," he mused, tilting his head to look at the little white snake. "Little one, come out and get some air."

Qiu Fu gasped. Why did this Young Prince keep a little white snake? It seemed he truly was just a wild country bumpkin.

Inside the Changping Prince’s estate, Ling Xuan lay in a tub of warm water. It was the first time he had felt such comfort since arriving in this world. He closed his eyes, his confusion growing: what exactly was Qiu Rui’s plan? Before entering the estate, he had glimpsed a large compound next door with a plaque engraved with "Grand Historian’s Bureau." This was the Great Sui’s astronomical observation agency, separated from the Prince’s estate by only a wall. Although he had stayed in the back mountains for three days, ensuring the celestial changes wouldn't be affected by his departure, living in such proximity meant one careless move could draw the Bureau's attention. He couldn't fathom why Qiu Rui would make such an arrangement.

The little white snake hissed softly, swimming through the water with great contentment, which made Ling Xuan smile. "Can't hold back anymore? Want to go out for a turn?"

He quickly donned the robes prepared by the estate—gold-embroidered cloud patterns—and glanced at himself in the bronze mirror. He chuckled, "Not bad, not bad. I’m starting to look like a Young Prince."

His gaze swept over the two snake marks on his arm, the mark of the Spirit Snake Coiling the Moon. Qiu Rui’s words echoed in his ears: "When the third snake mark appears, without the suppression of an Orange Needle, you will surely die within seven days."

Although the third mark hadn't appeared yet, the orange glow in the little white snake's eyes was becoming more distinct, and a second star-light was faintly emerging within the crescent-shaped pupil on his chest. These two marks and the snake's growing orange glow were all gifts from Qiu Rui, who had deliberately stimulated the little snake to display its Shikigami power.

Ling Xuan gave a bitter smile. "It seems this 'Young Prince' life is quite costly."

His eyes darted around. If Qiu Rui arranged things this way, could the Orange Needle be inside the Grand Historian’s Bureau? Otherwise, why had Qiu Rui insisted that he needed a formal identity to find the needle in Luoyang? He hadn't thought much of it at the time, but now that Qiu Rui had risked so much to make him the Heir, there had to be a connection. The status of Heir, acknowledged and decreed by the Divine Emperor, was certainly extraordinary.

He lifted his chin and pushed the door open. "Let’s see how I’m supposed to run this estate."

"Big talk," Ye Ziyan said, walking over slowly. Her purple silk robes flowed like evening clouds. She opened her delicate lips, "Don't forget why you came."

Ling Xuan felt his ears itch and his nose flush. He had rarely seen Ye Ziyan so gentle. He reached out and took her hand. "My lady, let’s go for a stroll and let those people outside drool with envy at this little monk."

"Get lost," Ye Ziyan scolded with a blush. "A Young Prince should act like one; don't give me that cheeky grin."

"I'm talking business. The Grand Historian’s Bureau is right next door," Ling Xuan said, pouting and wrapping an arm around her slender waist. "I suspect the Orange Needle is in there."

"Truly?" Ye Ziyan was stunned.

"So we must investigate," Ling Xuan laughed. "A stroll is the perfect excuse to check it out."

Qiu Fu trotted over. "The Yuwen family has sent an invitation, requesting the Young Prince’s presence at a banquet!"

"The Yuwen family?" Ling Xuan gasped. He had only just entered Luoyang; how did the Yuwen Clan hear the news so quickly? Could there be Yuwen spies in the Prince’s estate?

He took the gilded invitation. The ink was still wet, and a strange fragrance drifted into his nostrils. Ling Xuan paused; his sense of smell seemed to have sharpened significantly. Had the little white snake absorbed the abilities of a hound? His nose twitched, his brows lifted, and he gave a wicked smirk. "The ink is laced with corpse-silkworm powder, which turns into a Gu poison when heated... Steward Qiu, would you like to buy some estate insurance? The price is reasonable: five hundred taels of silver."

Qiu Fu’s pupils contracted. The estate’s hidden guards had already checked for poisons, but none had recognized this secret Western Region toxin. *Does this country boy actually know medicine?*

*Slap!*

He tossed the invitation into the charcoal brazier. Blue smoke rose, forming the shape of a skull. Ling Xuan’s lips curled. "Tell the Yuwen family that this Heir does not care for wine—only for beauties."

A delicate hand swiped through the air, tugging his ear. Ye Ziyan scolded him, "Tell me, what do you like?"

"Beauties, of course," Ling Xuan replied quickly. "But there is only one beauty in the world, and that is you, my lady. How could anyone else catch my eye?"

Qiu Fu was left completely dumbfounded. What sin had the Prince committed? This Heir and his Consort were like a wild bumpkin matched with a shrewish girl, acting without restraint in front of servants. It was a complete lack of decorum.

But while he stood there stunned, Ling Xuan, with the white snake coiled on his left shoulder and his right arm around Ye Ziyan, walked out of the estate as if nothing had happened.

Passing the Grand Historian’s Bureau, Ling Xuan asked, "How is it?"

"Nothing," Ye Ziyan said, her purple eyes glowing faintly as she shook her head. "And you?"

"My ear still hurts," Ling Xuan leaned on her shoulder and breathed a sigh. "Don't pinch next time. Give me some face. I am the Heir of Prince Changping now, and you are the Consort. We must be mindful of appearances."

"Is someone following us?" Ye Ziyan was startled. Since when did Ling Xuan have such perception?

Scanning the corner of his eye, he saw the little white snake flicking its red tongue, hissing in a pattern: three long and two short. Seeming to understand, Ling Xuan held up three fingers, hiding two silver needles between them.

Excitement surged in his heart, and a flash of surprise crossed his eyes as if he were seeing her for the first time. Ye Ziyan felt a secret thrill: *Since when did his vigilance surpass mine?*

Feigning an accidental glance behind them, he saw three grey figures acting suspiciously. He tightened his grip on her soft hand and turned abruptly. "My lady, there’s nothing to see. Let’s go back."

As they passed the figures, Ling Xuan moved. His nose twitched, and a strange scent hit him—a faint trace of a grey falcon. His lips curled. "My lady, do you think the Yuwen family has already prepared the charcoal-grilled falcon for me?"