Feng Que’s ghostly voice leaned in again from behind, cold and hoarse in his ear:
“If you were truly unmoved, why did you wait until I said the contact’s name before leaving the interrogation chamber?”
Shen Qi slammed his palm down, shattering the round table into pieces. As he sprang forward, he drew his blade and slashed backward in one fluid motion.
The blade flashed like snow, its aura fierce and biting—but it only cut through the silence of the empty room.
Shen Qi turned his head, staring at the vacant space. His expression was hard to read—fierce, or grave?
The Embroidered Uniform Guard guards stationed outside heard the commotion and burst through the door: “My lord, what happened?”
“…Nothing. Just clean up the floor,” Shen Qi said slowly as he sheathed his blade and walked out of the flower hall.
In the courtyard, the biting wind rushed against his face like countless needles. The murderous urge boiling in his chest finally began to subside.
Feng Que was dead. That massive, dangerous secret would be buried with him forever in the lightless depths of the Imperial Prison.
Since he had chosen not to touch it, he shouldn’t waver—unless…
No. Not yet, Shen Qi told himself. Don’t forget, Qinghe had bet everything on Crown Prince Zhu Helin. Even if he truly planned to flip the whole table, he had to ask Qinghe’s opinion first.
—
Yu Wang’s Residence.
Early morning. Thirty-six newly recruited guards and servants stood in formation on the training grounds.
The guards were all trained men, standing with feet apart, chests out, stomachs in—straight-backed and sharp. The servants, in contrast, were far more nervous, hunching their shoulders and staring at their feet, barely daring to breathe.
Yu Wang wore a deep purple-gold robe with coiling dragon and sea cloud embroidery. Leather vambraces were strapped to his wrists, and his black hair was tied atop his head with a light crown, giving him a look of both might and majesty. He paced past the rows of guards, his piercing gaze sharp as blades, making everyone afraid to meet his eyes.
A sweaty servant came running in, tripping at the garden gate and scrambling to the back of the line.
“Everyone here?” Yu Wang asked the commandant Han Ben, standing below the steps of the martial platform.
Han Ben cupped his fists and replied, “There are forty newly admitted guards and servants in total. Thirty-seven are present. Two requested sick leave yesterday, and one’s elderly mother fell gravely ill, so he asked to return home to care for her. Because Your Highness issued a sudden summons, he wasn’t able to make it back in time.”
Yu Wang nodded. “Write down the names of those who are absent.”
Immediately, a young attendant brought over brush, ink, paper, and inkstone. Han Ben wrote down the names, duties, and reasons for leave of the three individuals and handed the paper to Yu Wang.
Yu Wang took the sheet, glanced over it, and ordered, “Verify them one by one.”
A steward came to report: the servant whose mother had a sudden illness had indeed sent someone from his family to inform them yesterday. He requested leave from the steward and left only after receiving permission. His home was in the outer western district of the city; a rider could be sent to verify the matter and return within half an hour.
The other two guards who took sick leave had gone through Han Ben for the formalities, and their conditions had also been confirmed. They had gone to seek treatment on their own.
Yu Wang pointed to the name “Yin Fu” on the list. “This name rings a bell. Didn’t I spar with him?”
“Yes. On his first day here, he had the honor of exchanging ten moves with Your Highness,” Han Ben recalled with a chuckle. “At that time, Your Highness wasn’t even serious—didn’t even count as holding back—it was more like teasing a cat.”
“This Yin Fu has quick reflexes and fierce techniques; he practices a killing sword style. But even then, he didn’t unleash his full power—in fact, he deliberately restrained the murderous intent in his swordsmanship.”
“As if he would dare. That kid’s swordplay is sharp and fast, but his temperament is rather soft.”
Yu Wang gave Han Ben a knowing look. “You seem close to him? Something interesting there?”
Han Ben lowered his head. “Your Highness overstates it. He’s an orphan, with no parents. I just take a bit more care of him out of pity.”
Yu Wang slowly rotated the beveled jade thumb ring on his right thumb. The black Hetian jade glinted cold and glossy against his knuckles. “On New Year’s Day, when my royal brother came to visit me here at the manor, after his carriage departed, I summoned you. Do you remember what I asked you then?”
Han Ben paused, then quickly answered, “Yes, I remember.”
Wangye had suspected the flute music he heard in his dreams was the work of someone within the manor and instructed him to keep a close watch, especially on the new arrivals. But despite thorough investigation, he had found nothing unusual.
Except that one bottle of truth-inducing medicine he had personally prepared was missing.
He remembered it had been used on Yin Fu, but the latter was innocent—nothing had been extracted, and the drug’s toxicity had nearly harmed him.
—Why had he even suspected Yin Fu back then? Clearly, he had already decided to trust him, to cherish him, to protect him for a lifetime… a lifetime…
“General, you’re to return to the capital under imperial orders? Please allow me to accompany you as guard. Otherwise, I won’t feel at ease.”
“You’re already an adjutant. Before I leave, I’ll recommend you as deputy general. In the future, you could be appointed as a general. Why ruin your future for this? If you come back with me to the capital, you’ll just be another manor guard, with little chance of ever standing out.”
“I’ve always been the general’s personal guard. My life was pulled from a pile of corpses by your hand. I’m willing to follow you for life, through thick and thin, even if I remain just a manor guard.”
“A lifetime is too long. What you wish today may not be what you wish in the future. Han Ben, remember: ‘I do not make promises lightly, and so I never betray.’”
Yes—never make promises lightly. In this life, he had only ever sworn lifelong loyalty to one person. That person was the commander of the Black Cloud Cavalry, the general of the Jingbei Army— Dai Wang, Zhu Jincheng. Beyond that, who else was worth giving everything to….
The moment those memories and thoughts surfaced, they were crushed by a roaring wave. In his mind, a voice seemed to say:
“Han Ben, you fell in love with Yin Fu at first sight. You trust him, protect him, and are willing to do anything for him.”
That voice grew louder, like muffled thunder rolling across the sky, suppressing the upheaval deep beneath the sea. In a moment, the sea’s surface returned to darkness and silence.
He seemed to have been dazed for just a brief instant before hearing Yu Wang continue:
“At the time, I ordered you to investigate the manor. You found nothing. I trust your loyalty and capability. And since then, the flute music has not returned, so I didn’t make a big fuss—only instructed you to keep watching.”
Han Ben said with shame, “It was my incompetence that I couldn’t uncover the person who harbored ill intent toward Your Highness.”
Yu Wang frowned in thought. “This matter isn’t so simple, Han Ben. Have you heard about what happened at the Court of Diplomatic Rites? Four envoys from the Oirats drowned simultaneously—on New Year’s Eve. Their cause of death was also tied to some eerie sound. I suspect the person who tried to harm me is linked to the Court of Diplomatic Rites case… Tell me, on New Year’s Eve, who wasn’t at the manor?”
Han Ben replied, “Quite a few. All except those on duty had gone home for the holiday.”
“Was Yin Fu here?”
“…” Han Ben lowered his head, the muscles in his cheeks twitching awkwardly. Finally, he answered, “He has no home to return to, so he spent the New Year here. That night, he went to the temple to pay respects to his parents, then came back.”
“Do you think he’s trustworthy?” Yu Wang asked.
Han Ben nodded.
Yu Wang began turning the black jade ring again. After a moment, he said, “Do you know why I suddenly summoned all of them today?”
Han Ben shook his head.
“Because last night, the Great Ming diplomatic mission departed the capital for the Oirat territory, carrying our reply to their state letter. Along with the delegation was a prisoner—and a severed head.”
Han Ben abruptly looked up at the prince. “Did something happen to the delegation?”
Yu Wang said, “Last night, a masked intruder snuck into the mission’s camp. His intentions are unknown. Fortunately, my royal brother had prepared ahead of time, disguising a hundred of his elite imperial guards as part of the mission, closely guarding the state letter and the prisoner, so no major incident occurred. The masked man escaped unscathed from the imperial guards’ blades.”
Han Ben frowned. “The imperial guards are no amateurs. This man must be highly skilled.”
“If this incident was also orchestrated by the same person who played the flute in the manor, then he could only have entered the capital after the city gates opened this morning. Even riding at full speed, there’s no way he could be back at the manor in time. Now you understand why I suddenly summoned these guards and servants.”
“Your Highness suspects… the three who took leave?”
“To be precise, the one I suspect most is Yin Fu,” Yu Wang said. “His background, his sect, even his temperament—everything is far too ordinary. So ordinary it doesn’t match the swordsmanship he’s so deliberately hiding.” He patted Han Ben’s shoulder. “I’m worried you’re ‘only confused because you’re in the midst of the mountain’—so I had to ask, what exactly is your relationship with him?”
Han Ben froze like a stone statue for a beat, then said, “I’m ashamed. I will conduct a thorough investigation at once. Yesterday he complained of abdominal pain. When I found him, he was already pale as a sheet, convulsing and weak. I was the one who brought him to the clinic. The internist diagnosed it as intestinal colic. I’ll go check his condition right now.”
Yu Wang heard the words, and though Han Ben spoke with continued trust in Yin Fu, he could only nod. “Go ahead. Have another physician verify the diagnosis—as long as he’s still at the clinic.”
Han Ben cupped his fists and left.
Yu Wang watched his retreating figure and sighed lightly.
–
In a quiet little alley in the capital, on an inconspicuous stretch of wall, a few faint dark red fingerprints had appeared.
A tall woman walked down the alley, dressed in a mauve front-fastening jacket and an ivory skirt. The heron-and-lotus embroidery on her hem swayed gently as she moved.
She wore a wind-shielding bamboo hat, its brim draped with a veil of white gauze. Though it obscured her face, it couldn’t hide her graceful figure. Passersby couldn’t help but look twice, all hoping she’d lift the veil for a glimpse of her beauty.
Unfortunately, she never revealed her face. A curious onlooker trailed her all the way, and when he saw her step into a brothel, he chuckled lewdly, already planning to return when he had the money and leisure to see the real face beneath the hat.
The brothel was of average quality—far from prestigious in the capital. Business was slow, barely enough for the courtesans, madam, and runners to scrape by.
The woman headed upstairs to the room at the end of the corridor. The madam chased after her, smiling broadly.
“Wan Hongxiao—”
The woman didn’t stop walking.
“Xiao-jie—”
She pushed open the door.
The madam’s smile stiffened. She coughed and called out, annoyed, “Little Hong.”
The woman turned her head. From behind the veil, she looked at her. “What is it?”
Such a beautiful, refined stage name they’d given her—yet she refused to use it. Insisted on going by her drab, rustic real name. What a waste of such good looks and figure—no charm at all. At first, they’d thought she’d outshine everyone and become an overnight sensation, so they’d agreed to her conditions, hoping she’d bring fame to the house. But now… unlikely!
The madam groused to herself but pasted on a smile. “Little Hong, you’ve been with us for a few days now, haven’t you?”
“It’s only the seventh day—not ‘a few days.’”
The madam choked on her words. “We agreed back then, you’d sold yourself to bury your father. Out of kindness, I let you observe the mourning period without taking clients. But this is a business—we can’t support someone who eats but doesn’t work. So I was thinking—”
Little Hong cut her off. Her voice was crisp and cold, lower and sharper than most women’s. “You’re desperate to make money?”
The madam choked again. “Well, who isn’t? If you don’t earn, what will you eat? What about offerings for your father’s grave—”
Little Hong cut her off again. “Tonight.”
“—We can’t even afford—what? Tonight?”
“Yes. But I’ll choose the guest myself. I’ll stand on the second-floor balcony opposite the gate. Whoever I throw this hairpin to—that’s the one.”
The madam froze, then her face lit up with delight. “Good, good! I’ll prepare everything so more fine guests can compete for the honor—though I’ll say this now, if you pick some broke fool who can’t afford the token fee, I won’t allow it!”
“Don’t worry. I know how to judge people.” With that curt reply, Little Hong stepped inside and firmly shut the door.
The madam spat behind her: “Proud, my *ss! You’re still just here to sell yourself… But fine, plenty of men love that act. The prouder you seem, the more they flock. I’ll take a bit of grief now if it means silver later.”
She bustled downstairs to make preparations.
Inside the room, Little Hong removed the gauze hat, revealing a heavily painted, seductive face.
“She” walked to the table and drew an eight-petaled red lotus on paper, carefully comparing it to the image from memory. She noticed a subtle difference: the previous one had long outer petals and short inner ones; the new one had short outer petals and long inner ones.
What did it mean? Was the message encoded in the lengths of the petals?
“She” memorized the new pattern and burned the page with a candle flame.
This time, there was no way they would let Fuyin slip away right under their eyes. They had to follow the trail and dig out the contact behind him.
