The Cross-Dressing Legend Is Excessively Beautiful - Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Song Xizhi rested his head on one hand, reclining lazily on the couch.

Suddenly, with a sharp creak, the heavy doors swung open, followed immediately by a rush of biting cold air.

“Young Lady, the Prime Minister has arrived,” Qiu Tong announced with a bow.

“Oh? A rare guest indeed.” Song Xizhi opened his eyes. His gaze was clear and sharp; there wasn’t a hint of the bleariness one would expect from someone waking from a nap.

He dismissed the pale-faced Qiu Tong with a wave of his hand and turned his attention to the newcomer.

The man was dressed in black, with sword-like brows and starry eyes. His face bore the marks of time, and his temples were touched with white. He walked in with his hands behind his back, his pace unhurried—steady and powerful.

Judging solely by appearances, he was an elegant, dignified middle-aged man. One might imagine that in his leisure time, he would paint, fish, or compose poetry…

In reality, however, this man’s blood-soaked methods had absolutely nothing to do with such refined pastimes. On the execution grounds, it was with this very same amiable smile that Song Ci sent the entire clans of his political enemies to the afterlife for a “reunion.”

Song Xizhi gave a mocking laugh and said lazily, “I wonder what world-shaking event has prompted Lord Father to make a personal appearance?”

Song Ci stood with his hands behind his back while Song Xizhi reclined, squinting back with indolence. Neither spoke; neither moved. Yet, their gazes clashed like swords in mid-air, exchanging ten thousand blows in an instant.

They were the people who understood each other best in this world, and they shared the closest bond of blood. Tragically, they viewed each other as mortal enemies. There was no irony in the world more bitter than this.

Song Xizhi suddenly lost interest, feeling a wave of exhaustion. “The list?” he asked.

Song Ci pulled a piece of silk from his sleeve.

Several names were written upon it. Song Xizhi took it and scanned the text. “These are all the Crown Prince’s men.”

Song Ci smiled. “I know.”

“His Majesty has only two adult princes. The Fourth Prince’s maternal clan is powerful and difficult to deal with; among the group of people you disposed of recently, Father, there seemed to be direct descendants of his family.”

“And now, Lord Father wants to offend the Crown Prince as well?” Song Xizhi let out a long, troubled sigh. “Unfortunately, the Crown Prince is aloof, possesses an extreme desire for control, and is highly vengeful. I fear Father’s days are about to become quite difficult.”

Song Ci replied, “Naturally, I have no wish to offend the Crown Prince. But these people’s curiosity was too strong. People with excessive curiosity rarely live long lives. I trust His Highness the Crown Prince will understand my position.”

Song Xizhi asked, “Oh? Are you telling me you don’t feel even a shred of fear?”

“Fear?” Song Ci reacted as if he had heard something hilarious. “To climb to my current position, I have hovered on the brink of death more times than I can count.”

“When I pushed for reforms and was forced into the eye of the storm by the masses, I never retreated a single step. When I was surrounded by powerful enemies and constant assassination attempts, I never wavered for a moment. Once, the great noble clans looked down on everyone from their high perches; now, they must avoid my path. A Crown Prince whose feathers have not yet fully grown—is he truly worth my fear?”

Song Ci’s voice was impassioned, as if he had returned to those thrilling years of storm and blood. A sharp light flared in his eyes, revealing the savage, predatory edge hidden beneath his gentle exterior.

This was the true “Blood-Robed Prime Minister.” This was the real Song Ci.

However, Song Xizhi was not intimidated by Song Ci’s aura in the least. He flicked his eyelids upward slightly. “Of course, I meant fear that I—this sword of yours—might no longer be easy to use and might instead turn back to strike its master.”