Chapter Seventy-Two: The Empty House After Departure

Zhan Tianyi arrived at the entrance of his residence and saw that the gates were tightly shut, not a soul in sight. Even the two metal rings on the doors had gathered a layer of dust, clearly untouched for quite some time.

Lan Yun stepped forward and knocked, but after a long wait, there was no response. She exchanged a glance with Lan Yu, both realizing the gravity of the situation—Zhen Nan Palace had been abandoned.

In a low voice, Lan Yun said, “Your Highness, no one is answering. Should we fetch a locksmith to open the gate?”

Zhan Tianyi shook his head. “No need. Let’s just climb over the wall. Do you know how to use lightness technique? Do you need me to bring you over?”

The two answered in unison, “Your Highness, we know lightness technique.”

“Then let’s go,” Zhan Tianyi said, and with that, he leapt over the wall. Lan Yun and Lan Yu followed, springing lightly after him.

Inside the courtyard, they found it empty; not a single figure could be seen. It seemed Yan Kuan had made arrangements before departing for war, dispersing all those who served in Zhen Nan Palace. Worse yet, he had taken all valuable possessions with him, leaving behind only a shell of a home. Apart from some heavy wooden furniture, nothing of worth remained. Zhan Tianyi wandered through the entire residence, not spotting a single person. He frowned deeply. Sixteen years ago, his father was only forty, but now even his father, Zhan Yi, was nowhere to be found. Had Yan Kuan killed him?

The vast palace was utterly devoid of life, his father’s whereabouts unknown, and his wife long gone. In that moment, Zhan Tianyi’s heart was as desolate as a wasteland. He slumped into a grand armchair in the hall, silent for a long time.

Lan Yun and Lan Yu exchanged uncertain glances, unsure what to do. At last, Lan Yun mustered her courage and spoke softly, “Your Highness, perhaps you should stay at Prince Chun’s residence for a while. Once we’ve restored your palace, you can return?”

Zhan Tianyi looked up at the two maids his daughter had sent, offering an apologetic smile. He had almost forgotten they were even there, nearly forgetting his daughter had sent people to accompany him. Remembering he still had a daughter brought him some comfort. Shaking his head firmly, he replied, “No need. I’ve survived worse; this is nothing. I’ll manage. Tell Yan’er not to worry. You may go back.”

“Your Highness, but…” The two were at a loss for words. They wanted to report the situation to their mistress, but was it really all right to leave Zhan Tianyi alone here?

“It’s fine, you may go,” Zhan Tianyi waved them off.

Helpless, Lan Yun and Lan Yu left, eager to relay the current state of affairs to their mistress.

Left alone in his home, Zhan Tianyi’s thoughts surged with an unending longing for his wife. During his sixteen years of imprisonment, every time he thought of her, his heart ached unbearably. He would sometimes force himself not to think of her, yet he could not control his mind. The thought that she might be living peacefully with Yan Kuan, resting in another man’s arms, burned like fire, tormenting him beyond endurance. Yet he knew it was not her fault; he knew how deeply she had loved him. But if one day she discovered the man she shared her bed with was not truly her husband, how could she face such a cruel truth? Sometimes, he would rather die and let Yan Kuan live his life under Zhan Tianyi’s name, than force his wife to endure a reality so harsh. He loved her so much that he could overlook his own years of suffering, only wishing for her peace and happiness.

But only recently did he learn from Yan Kuan that she had long since passed away. It was then he realized how laughable his clinging to life had been. He wanted nothing more than to die, but the hatred in his heart screamed for vengeance; he had to kill Yan Kuan, the source of all his misery. That was all that kept him alive.

Now Yan Kuan was dead—killed by his own daughter. Yet the woman he had loved so deeply was gone forever. The memories of their time together were vivid in his mind, and the more he dwelled on them, the clearer his pain became. He felt he could no longer bear it, yearning to go and join her. But the thought of his daughter, now utterly alone in this world, made him grit his teeth and live on with reason rather than emotion.

When Zhan Yan received the news, she was not greatly affected. For her, as long as her father was alive, nothing else mattered. The loss of possessions at Zhen Nan Palace was of no consequence—money could be earned again, belongings repurchased, servants rehired. The only concern was the disappearance of her grandfather. Just months ago, he had been healthy and well; how had he vanished with Yan Kuan's expedition? Had even her grandfather been replaced by an imposter? Otherwise, why would he treat his own granddaughter so coldly, almost as if she did not exist? The thought sent chills down her spine. To have lived all those years under their very noses—had she not possessed the memories of her past life, she would have perished countless times.

The next morning, Zhan Yan returned to Zhen Nan Palace. Zhongli Yu was still tied up with military matters and did not accompany her. This time, Zhan Yan came prepared, bringing a locksmith to open the dusty lock on the main gate and replace it with a new one. She had also brought many supplies—enough to fill five carriages. Following her were a dozen servants, all personally assigned to restore the palace and attend to Zhan Tianyi.

When she entered after unlocking the door, she was met by a poignant scene: Zhan Tianyi sat motionless in the grand armchair, as if rooted there, radiating utter loneliness. Perhaps he had been sitting there since yesterday. The sight made Zhan Yan’s heart ache. She approached softly and called, “Father.”

Zhan Tianyi looked up and, seeing Zhan Yan, his face softened into a loving smile. “Yan’er, you’re here. Why are you up so early? You just returned to the capital—why not rest a little longer?” His voice was gentle beyond words.

Zhan Yan’s eyes grew moist. This man, mired in his own sorrow, still cared so deeply for his daughter—how could she not be moved? This was her real father: no matter the circumstances, he never forgot to look after her. Suppressing the tears that threatened to fall, she walked over and gently embraced him from behind. Choking back her emotions, she said, “Father, I’ve sent people and supplies for you. Please, take good care of yourself. If you ever feel lonely, come to Chun Prince’s residence and visit me.”

Zhan Tianyi smiled—a light, serene smile, as if all the pain and sorrow had been gently swept away by his daughter’s heartfelt words. Softly, he said, “All right, I will take good care of myself and not let you worry.”

Zhan Yan smiled too, seeing the relief on her father’s face. The burden in her heart was finally lifted. She ordered the servants to prepare a meal for them, and before long, a sumptuous breakfast was served. Father and daughter ate together, cheerful and at ease. Afterwards, Zhan Yan suggested they visit her former residence, Orchid Courtyard.

Orchid Courtyard, long untended, was overrun with weeds. Yet the pear trees within were heavy with fruit, the pears golden and plump—clearly ripe. Their presence brought a touch of vitality to the desolate courtyard.

Zhan Tianyi gazed at the humble yard, knowing it had once been his daughter’s home. Guilt flickered in his eyes. “Yan’er, it’s all my fault. You’ve suffered so much these years.”

If not for Yan Kuan’s treachery, if not for his own incapacity, his daughter would never have endured such hardship—he would have cherished her above all.

Zhan Yan replied with a smile, “Father, it’s fine here. I haven’t suffered. Please, don’t blame yourself anymore, all right?”

Zhan Tianyi nodded. The past was past. From now on, whoever dared to harm his daughter—he would give his life to protect her, no matter who they were…