“Not home?” Crown Prince Zhu Helin tossed the ink-filled lake brush aside and frowned. “He just got injured. Instead of staying home to recover, what’s he running around for?”
Fubao replied, “The servant said that Lord Su had urgent business to attend to and left the house. He might return later today or, at the latest, tomorrow. This servant waited for over half an hour, but seeing no sign of him and worrying about the palace gates closing, I had no choice but to return first. However, everything the young master instructed has been delivered, and the two private chefs have been left behind. Young Master can rest assured.”
Zhu Helin was still uneasy. “I’ll find a chance to sneak out of the palace tomorrow and see if he’s returned,” he said.
But the next day, before classes at the Wenhua Hall had even begun, news had already spread to the Eastern Palace: the Crown Prince’s Shidu, Su Yan, had struck the Drum of Appeals and forced his way into the Fengtian Gate to seek justice for his teacher. He had also impeached the Commandant of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, Feng Que, on twelve major crimes, ultimately leading to his conviction and execution.
Zhu Helin was thrilled, clapping his hands in admiration. He felt immensely vindicated and exclaimed repeatedly, “Our Qinghe is truly remarkable.” Then, snapping out of his reverie, he flew into a rage. It turned out that the assassination attempt at the small southern courtyard was known to his father, Fourth Royal Uncle, and even that Commander named Shen Qi—but he alone had been kept in the dark!
Even Su Yan had deliberately concealed it from him, brushing him off with “the investigation is ongoing,” while in reality, all the evidence had already been collected and the trap set, just waiting for the court assembly to ensnare the target!
—They all treated him like a child!
What was the point of being Crown Prince if everyone saw him this way?
Zhu Helin’s eyes turned red with anger, and he almost stormed off to confront Su Yan, ready to grab him by the collar and demand an explanation. But on second thought, it seemed pointless—wouldn’t he just be dismissed with a stream of clever excuses?
Dejected, he turned to Fubao, his personal servant. “Am I really that foolish and unreliable?”
Fubao was startled. “Good heavens, your highness, why say such discouraging things? Ever since you were young, your teachers have praised your intelligence and quick wit, saying you grasp things immediately and learn them effortlessly. They only criticized you for a lack of diligence. Even the Emperor himself has remarked that you have some of the energy and spirit of the late Emperor in his youth. You mustn’t belittle yourself.”
“But why doesn’t Qinghe trust me? He’d rather seek help from Fourth Royal Uncle who once teased him than come to me!” Zhu Helin sighed in frustration, his mind replaying the mocking words of Fourth Royal Uncle: “Too green, completely uninteresting, just like a stalk of yulan magnolia.” Enraged and embarrassed, Zhu Helin kicked the rosewood armchair hard.
Fubao couldn’t quite understand the situation, but he knew how to comfort the crown prince.
“It’s because Su Yan doesn’t yet realize that the young master is already a man! Once the young master shows his maturity and resolve, Su Yan will surely see you in a new light and place his trust in you.”
These words struck a chord with Zhu Helin.
He thought to himself: That’s right, he doesn’t know yet! But how could he? This isn’t something one can just announce… I wonder how old Su Yan was when he came of age and what he dreamed of then… Surely it wasn’t me! How infuriating—why was I born three years later than him?
“Being three years younger doesn’t matter. The next thirty, sixty, or ninety years will all be your highness,” Fubao chimed in, picking up on his murmured thoughts.
Zhu Helin suddenly realized that he had accidentally muttered his inner musings aloud. Embarrassment overwhelmed him. It was said that a truly deep mind never spoke to itself aloud. Compared to his father or even Fourth Royal Uncle, he still had a long way to go in terms of composure.
Even so, Fubao’s words did bring him some comfort—indeed, there was still plenty of time ahead. One day, Zhu Helin would rule the world and unify the seas; the entire realm would belong to him, let alone one Su Qinghe.
But that “one day” felt so far away!
Sitting on the luohan couch where Su Yan had once rested, Zhu Helin hugged his knees, lost in thought. Suddenly, he asked, “Did you say that Royal Father exempted him from his position as Xianma and promoted him to Right Shaoqing of the Dali Temple? What about the title of Crown Prince’s Shidu—does he still hold that?”
“Yes, he does!” Fubao hurriedly replied. “By protocol, Lord Su still has to attend Wenhua Hall to fulfill his duties as a Shidu on teaching days. However, I heard that the Emperor seems to have assigned him a task, so he requested leave from the Grand Scholar and won’t be coming for the time being.”
Zhu Helin slapped the couch. “No problem. If the mountain won’t come to me, I’ll go to the mountain. As long as he holds that title, I have every reason to seek him out!”
***
At the Dali Temple’s offices, Su Yan, dressed in a brand-new fourth-rank ceremonial robe embroidered with crimson clouds and swallows, paid his respects to the newly appointed Minister of the Dali Temple, Guan Pan, and exchanged bows with the newly promoted Left Shaoqing, Wen Zhengyin.
Guan Pan, about forty years old with a square face and a mustache, had spent seven or eight years enduring the Left Shaoqing’s position. He knew that his sudden promotion was unexpected. Had Yu Shouyong not fallen from grace, he would have waited another ten or twenty years. By rights, he ought to thank Su Yan.
However, Yu Shouyong had treated him well, running the Dali Temple with impeccable order. Though he had no major achievements, he made no serious errors either. Yet he couldn’t withstand the pressure of Feng Que’s downfall and fell with the Zhuo Qi’s case.
Reflecting on this, Guan Pan felt a twinge of sympathy for his former superior. Thus, his attitude toward Su Yan, the enigmatic young Vice Minister, was tepid—his smile did not reach his eyes, and he maintained only a surface-level courtesy.
Wen Zhengyin, on the other hand, was an affable, scholarly man in his early thirties. After the formalities, he invited Su Yan for tea, grinning as he said, “I wasn’t present at court yesterday, but I’ve heard of your deeds. Truly, you are both wise and courageous, a paragon of virtue. Did you know, the twelve charges you brought against Feng Que have already been printed in today’s court bulletin and are spreading throughout the capital? Everyone is singing your praises, calling you a model of integrity.”
Su Yan felt his ears grow warm. While he understood the principle of mutual flattery, being lauded so directly by a colleague left him somewhat embarrassed. He responded with polite humility.
After some light-hearted chatter, Wen Zhengyin seemed genuinely friendly, but Su Yan felt their personalities didn’t quite align. He excused himself, citing the pressing nature of the Emperor’s assignment to investigate Feng Que’s faction, and left after making a formal bow.
“Take care, Lord Su. Oh, by the way, Lord Guan asked me to tell you that since His Majesty has assigned you a task, you need not report to the office during this time to save on travel.”
Su Yan thanked him and departed.
Watching Su Yan’s retreating figure, Wen Zhengyin’s smile faded. Twirling the tea cup Su Yan had used, he remarked coldly, “A young upstart—let’s see how long his luck lasts.” With that, he poured the remaining tea onto the ground.
Su Yan disliked traveling by official sedan, finding it slow and bumpy. He instructed his attendants to prepare a carriage and set off for the Embroidered Uniform Guard headquarters.
This was the command center of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, and with Feng Que’s downfall, the organization was leaderless and in turmoil.
Seeing the Emperor’s personally appointed Dali Temple Shaoqing arrive, the four Assistant Commanders and other officials hurried to greet Su Yan warmly. They ushered him into the inner hall, serving him tea and snacks while lavishing compliments. They then detailed Feng Que’s crimes, eager to distance themselves from his faction to avoid being implicated.
Su Yan observed that the second and third commanders of the Embroidered Uniform Guard were seasoned veterans of the Jianghu, skilled in evasion and mutual protection. Their words were likely devoid of any truth. Playing along, he exchanged pleasantries before stepping out of the hall and heading straight to the Records Office.
He ordered the head officer to retrieve all official documents from Feng Que’s tenure and the dossiers of officers ranked Commander and above. These filled ten large wooden crates, which Su Yan promptly sealed and had transported to the Dali Temple.
Initially, the deputy commanders and officers underestimated Su Yan due to his youth and inexperience. They planned to evade responsibility with vague answers, bribes, and selective disclosures of Feng’s faction members, hoping to conclude the matter without major losses.
To their dismay, Su Yan was no easy target. He gutted the Records Office’s archives, taking the documents wholesale, leaving their faces green with frustration. Though they dared not stop him, their displeasure was palpable as they watched the crates being loaded.
Su Yan, observing their sour expressions, clasped his hands with a smile. “No need to see me off, gentlemen. I know the way back.”
He departed leisurely, leaving the four men staring at one another in dismay.
“What now?” asked one assistant commander.
Another Assistant Official said, “There are over a hundred documents and files spanning the last ten years. It’ll take him considerable time to go through them. He can’t finish in the short term, so we must act quickly to smooth things over and bribe him.”
A Senior Official nodded. “Exactly. If we let him investigate thoroughly, dozens of heads will roll, and the four of us won’t escape involvement.”
Another Senior Official sneered. “Send someone to dig into his background and preferences. Find out whether he’s after fame, power, wealth, or women. After all, I’ve never seen an official who’s truly devoid of desires.”
Su Yan was indeed feeling a bit overwhelmed.
The Embroidered Uniform Guard Guards, numbering five to six thousand from top to bottom, couldn’t all be investigated—it wasn’t feasible or necessary. He needed to focus on key issues, addressing the major ones while letting minor ones slide.
The ceremonial guard was relatively less concerning. These so-called “Great Han Generals” were essentially a decorative force meant to showcase the emperor’s majesty. They operated independently and weren’t managed by Feng Que.
However, other Embroidered Uniform Guard Guard officials responsible for the emperor’s personal security required a thorough investigation, as their duties directly impacted the emperor’s safety during his travels.
The Northern Surveillance Bureau, which handled imperial investigations and held the greatest authority, was also the most problematic. Since Feng Que had controlled the Embroidered Uniform Guard Guards and overseen the imperial prison, he had stacked the division with his loyalists from top to bottom.
Meanwhile, the Southern Surveillance Bureau, which was supposed to manage internal law and military discipline, had essentially become a non-functioning entity.
After organizing his thoughts, Su Yan decided to start with the Northern Surveillance Bureau.
He ordered the transfer of all documents and records to the Dali Temple office, locking them securely in a room. Without pausing, he headed to the Northern Surveillance Bureau.
The large, red-painted gate of the division, studded with copper nails, remained as imposing as ever, and the imperial prison was as grim as before. But Su Yan was no longer the helpless student visiting the prison with a food box for his wrongfully accused mentor.
He requested to see Feng Que, and the Chief Patrol Officer immediately nodded obsequiously and led him to the deepest cell in the prison.
Stripped of his official robes, Feng Que wore filthy prison garments and sat on a moldy pile of straw. His face was gloomy and pale. When he saw Su Yan, his eyes burned with hatred, and his gaze pierced through the iron bars like daggers. He remained silent.
The Chief Patrol Officer said to Su Yan, “Lord Su, are you here to interrogate the prisoner personally? I’ll order the torture tools prepared immediately.”
Su Yan frowned. “I don’t resort to such methods, and I have nothing to say to a man who’s already as good as dead. Tell him this: if he hands over the names of his accomplices without implicating innocent people, I’ll plead with His Majesty on his behalf to change his punishment from waist execution to beheading. Otherwise, the worse he deserves to die, the worse he will die.”
Before the Chief Patrol Officer could respond, Feng Que spat a thick glob of phlegm onto the ground, his expression filled with disdain.
Su Yan smirked coldly, ignoring the provocation. Without another word, he turned and left.
A courtroom official and a prisoner—wasting even a single word on him would lower his worth. Su Yan couldn’t care less about the resentful glares and hatred of a defeated man.
Afterward, he packed several more crates of case files from the imperial prison, covering its cases from the past several years, and transported them back to the Dali Temple as well.
There was too much material to review, far beyond what he could handle alone. So he came up with a plan: he summoned all the clerks under his command, lined them up, and had them state their names and years of service. From this group, he selected a dozen who appeared reliable, diligent, and experienced.
Su Yan divided the incriminating evidence into categories and distributed it to these clerks, ensuring each piece was meticulously numbered to prevent loss or tampering. Their task was to cross-reference the evidence with the records and identify detailed information about the implicated officials, drafting a preliminary list.
Additionally, the cases investigated under Feng Que’s orders had to be reviewed one by one to identify any wrongful convictions or fabricated charges. These could also serve as evidence against Feng Que’s faction.
Just reporting to the Dali Temple, shuttling between two Embroidered Uniform Guard offices, moving more than ten crates of files, and selecting capable personnel had already consumed an entire day.
Not to mention the mountain of case files yet to be reviewed—it would take at least half a month to get through them all.
As dusk approached and the officials of the Dali Temple went home, Su Yan, exhausted from a full day of work, felt the dull ache of his unhealed wounds on his arms and thighs.
Riding home in his carriage, he had a nagging feeling that he’d forgotten something important.
… Shen Qi! He almost forgot about this “hero” who had barely escaped with his life.
After the court session yesterday, Su Yan had been preoccupied with arranging the return of Zhuo Qi’s remains to his family and handling his job transition at the Chancellery. He hadn’t had time to visit Shen Qi, so he’d merely sent a message through a servant.
Today, worried that the Embroidered Uniform Guard Guard files might be tampered with if not removed promptly, he had been working non-stop. It wasn’t until now that he remembered his injured comrade still bedridden.
Su Yan immediately instructed the driver to change course for the Shen residence.
Upon entering the bedroom, Su Yan saw Shen Qi lying face down on the bed, eyes closed in sleep. He tiptoed over, carefully lifted the freshly changed gauze on Shen Qi’s back, and inspected the wound.
Two days prior, Su Yan had prepared a significant amount of penicillin—enough for about seven days of use—and had instructed the maid to apply it every four hours.
Now, two days later, the wound had stopped oozing pus, and the inflammation had visibly improved. A few more days of penicillin would likely eradicate the bacteria entirely. Then, he could switch to applying wound-healing medicine to promote skin regeneration and close the injury.
Relieved, Su Yan replaced the gauze. Just as he was about to rise from the bedside, his wrist was suddenly grasped.
He looked down to find Shen Qi’s piercing black eyes staring unblinkingly at him.
“Let me take a look at this new official robe… Not bad. Normally, I see you prefer wearing green or blue, but it seems crimson suits you too, making your complexion look even fairer.” Shen Qi spoke slowly, his voice still a little hoarse. “New official on duty, enjoying their moment of triumph. I wonder, in the past two days, have you been ‘feasting your eyes on the flowers of Changan’?”
Su Yan immediately sensed that Commander Shen was upset, likely because he thought he had been neglecting him as a brother. Trying to placate him, Su Yan smiled apologetically. “I’ve been busy these past two days and haven’t had time to visit you. I’m truly sorry. I came straight here as soon as I was done with work today.”
Shen Qi grabbed his wrist and pulled him to sit on the bed. “I’m not upset that you forgot to visit me. I’m upset because you don’t take care of yourself. You look so worn out. Since returning from the East Garden, have you had a proper meal or a good night’s sleep?”
Su Yan shook his head and then smiled warmly. “That’s why I’m here to mooch off you.”
Shen Qi said, “The dinner is already set out on the table in the outer hall. Go and eat.” His hand slid from Su Yan’s wrist to his palm, kneading it a few times before letting go.
Su Yan noticed Shen Qi’s tendency to be tactile—always touching his face, wrapping an arm around his waist, or patting his leg. The man even had a habit of hugging him and nipping at him like a puppy. Su Yan couldn’t help but wonder if Shen Qi had suffered from a severe lack of affection in his childhood, resulting in an insatiable need for physical contact now.
He lightly smacked Shen Qi’s hand in mock reprimand and walked out to have dinner.
In the small outer hall, the round table was laden with eight dishes, one soup, and a selection of staple foods. The dishes were well-balanced between meat and vegetables, appealing both to the eyes and the palate. The sight and aroma made Su Yan’s stomach growl. He suddenly remembered that he’d skipped lunch earlier, only managing to wolf down a street-bought bun in the midst of his errands.
After washing his hands, Su Yan ate heartily, like a whirlwind clearing the table. Overeating left him uncomfortably full, and he had to pace around the hall to aid digestion.
The serving maid, who had been waiting on him during the meal, noticed Su Yan’s four-rank official attire and initially felt a mix of reverence and apprehension—after all, his position was higher than Commander Shen’s. But as she watched him closely, she realized that beneath the robe was a fair and delicate youth, as handsome as a jade figurine. his nervousness gave way to a shy, stolen glance and a quiet giggle, her cheeks flushing.
“Qinghe… Qinghe!” Shen Qi’s voice called from the inner room.
Su Yan thought his injuries might be acting up and hurriedly went in, only to find him lounging on the bed, sprawled out like a relaxed leopard after a successful hunt, waiting in his den for a partner to groom his fur.
For a moment, Su Yan was struck. He realized he had never seen this side of Shen Qi—utterly unguarded, almost serene. The Commander Shen he knew was always sharp and ruthless, like a predator lurking in a swamp, calculating and deadly. But now, this rare moment of vulnerability seemed precious.
Su Yan approached slowly. “What is it?”
