Qin Dynasty: Who offended my frail and sickly minister?

But saying it has stabilized is not quite accurate; it's more like... it has cooled down.

The anger and resentment in his heart were not released, but were forcibly suppressed back into his chest, turning into ice layer by layer, inch by inch, freezing from his flesh all the way to his heart.

Because of Fusu's sudden blockade, Han Fei was forced back several steps. He let his tightly clenched fist drop, but his knuckles remained firmly interlocked, refusing to loosen even slightly, and the back of his hand turned a glaring bluish-white.

His chest was still heaving violently, and he struggled to swallow a few times to suppress the metallic taste churning in his mouth before slowly raising his eyes to look at Zhou Wenqing again.

"No wonder...no wonder...no wonder you kept emphasizing that only by submitting to Han and becoming a subject can we consider our gamble a success..."

Han Fei's voice was hoarse and dry, his lips trembling slightly uncontrollably. Every word seemed to be ground from his own flesh and blood, wrapped in piercing pain and endless self-mockery:

"The written agreement we signed that day was also part of your premeditated plan. You predicted that Korea would be destroyed, and that I would have nowhere to go then—wasn't that right?"

As soon as he finished speaking, he stared intently at the person in front of him, almost obsessively scrutinizing Zhou Wenqing's face, desperately trying to pluck out even a trace of hesitation or denial from that silence, or even a pale rebuttal, anything would be better than the suffocating stillness.

And... to preserve his last shred of self-deception and wishful thinking.

Unfortunately, no.

Zhou Wenqing stood there silently, his eyes filled with deep remorse, his lips pressed tightly together, yet he remained silent from beginning to end.

A deep sense of guilt choked him, preventing him from uttering even a single falsehood or sophistry.

A silent response is far more cruel than any words.

The last glimmer of light in Han Fei's eyes dimmed little by little with his silence, like a candle flickering in the wind, blown away by the cold wind, and finally turned into a bottomless silence.

An endless silence spread, making the air in the room heavy and stagnant.

Time stretched out indefinitely, until Zhou Wenqing's body felt stiff and cold, his limbs went numb, and he felt as if he were nailed to the spot, unable to move.

After a long while, Han Fei finally opened his mouth with difficulty.

All anger had vanished from his tone, leaving only utter exhaustion and despair. Each word was spoken slowly and heavily, like a dull knife cutting flesh—no blood was drawn, yet the pain was excruciating, as if one's very internal organs were being torn apart.

"Son...Zhou Wenqing."

"I, Han Fei, have always treated you with utmost sincerity and have never deceived you in the slightest. To this day, how many things have you schemed against me?"

Zhou Wenqing's heart skipped a beat, and his breath hitched slightly.

Her five fingers, hanging by her sides, suddenly curled up, the fingertips digging so hard they almost dug into her palms. She hastily raised her eyes to look at Han Fei, her lips moving as a thousand words welled up at her lips.

Han Fei, however, turned his head away first, deliberately avoiding his gaze.

"That's enough."

His profile was cold, lonely, and distant; his tone was decisive and resolute, completely sealing off any room for maneuver.

Even if you told me, I wouldn't dare believe you anymore.

When trust is broken, even mountains and seas cannot separate us.

Han Fei closed his eyes in embarrassment.

Scenes of their past interactions flashed through his mind like a revolving lantern: jokes, heartfelt conversations, and entrusting each other with life and death. Each scene was as clear as yesterday, but now, when he thought back on them, he couldn't help but feel a sense of disorientation. He couldn't distinguish how much of what he had experienced was real and how much was a deliberate pretense.

Could those heartfelt words and unwavering support have, at some point, already fallen into the other side's trap?

The last shred of reason told him that it might not be entirely false, but once trust collapsed, suspicion grew like weeds on the ruins, impossible to eradicate completely.

A tremendous sense of absurdity and desolation suddenly swept over him, crashing heavily into his heart.

Han Fei slowly opened his eyes, his gaze now devoid of any emotion.

"In the end, it was all just an empty dream."

He murmured softly, his voice so soft it was almost inaudible, a faint smile slowly curving his lips, but without a trace of warmth, only bitter self-mockery.

Then, he lowered his eyes, his gaze falling on his robes.

With trembling left hand, he tore open the outer robe, his fingertips probing inside to reveal the plain-colored inner shirt.

He paused for a moment, took a deep breath as if gathering his last bit of strength, and gripped the fabric of his inner lapel tightly with his right hand, without the slightest hesitation.

"Sizzle—"

A sharp, piercing sound of tearing silk abruptly shattered the deathly silence of the room, sharp and crisp, completely tearing apart the last thread of friendship.

"Han Zi!"

Zhou Wenqing's pupils dilated suddenly, his heart felt empty, and he instinctively raised his hand to stop him, but his movement was a beat too slow; his fingertips hovered in mid-air, unable to touch him at all.

The wafting fabric fluttered and scattered across the sky.

Han Fei clutched the torn piece of cloth, its edges jagged, with several strands of silk hanging down from the edge, swaying gently in the wind like broken strings that could not be reconnected.

Then, he let go.

The tattered piece of cloth, carrying its tangled threads, slipped from their palms, swirled, and slowly drifted down, lying silently beneath their feet.

The air seemed to freeze instantly.

The color drained from Zhou Wenqing's face instantly, leaving it as pale as paper.

"Zhou Wenqing".

Han Fei once again abandoned the intimate terms of address he used in the past, using his full name and surname, enunciating each word clearly and forcefully drawing a line between them.

"Today we sever our ties, and this serves as proof that from now on we will go our separate ways and never meet again."

"All ties are severed, all obligations are broken!"

The wind in the courtyard had stopped at some point, the paulownia leaves were no longer swaying, and the sunlight quietly fell between the two people, making the torn piece of silk lying at their feet particularly dazzling, and also making the chess pieces scattered on the ground shine, making them even more distinct in black and white.

Han Fei didn't look at the torn piece of silk again, nor at Zhou Wenqing. He turned around and walked out of the courtyard with steady steps and a straight back.

Only the tear in the hem of the garment dangled empty, a testament to what had just happened.

Just as he was about to step out of the courtyard gate, Zhou Wenqing finally broke through the choked sob in his throat, suppressed the surging pain in his heart, and whispered hoarsely:

"Han Zi".

Han Fei paused only briefly before steadily continuing his steps without looking back even slightly.

"I've already prepared a fast horse, luggage, and travel expenses for you in the backyard," Zhou Wenqing said urgently, his voice slightly raised.

"The road ahead is fraught with storms, and all I can do is this. You have helped me a great deal; if you wish to go quickly, please do not refuse."

No one responded.

Only after Han Fei's figure completely disappeared from sight did the sound of horses' hooves echo in the backyard, the clattering of hooves gradually fading into the distance.

Zhou Wenqing staggered.

Fusu was shocked and rushed forward, firmly supporting his arms with both hands:

"Sir, sir, are you alright?"

"……fine."

After a while, Zhou Wenqing rubbed his temples wearily, then raised his hand to push away Fusu's support and walked forward alone.

He slowly squatted down and picked up the torn piece of cloth from the ground.

Suddenly, the light dimmed, and a deep shadow slowly descended.

Zhou Wenqing didn't look up, but instead ran his fingers along the fabric, saying softly:

"Mr. Wei Liao, I'm entrusting the rest to you."

------

Good luck on the college entrance exam!!!