Su Xiaobei and Su Xiaojing stood trembling in the courtyard, stealing glances toward the steps.
Inside the hall, on the grand armchair at the center, a young man in luxurious clothes sat with a scowl on his face, glaring toward the gate. This was none other than Crown Prince Zhu Helin, disguised in plain clothes.
The eunuch Fu Bao, standing by his side, whispered, “Young Master, it’s been over an hour. Lord Su must be occupied with official duties and running late. Why don’t we return and come again once we’ve confirmed he’s home?”
Zhu Helin snapped, “This is the third time I’ve come, and he’s been absent every time! What kind of official duties keep him out of the house all day? Even the Grand Secretary doesn’t seem this endlessly busy! I sent someone to check at the Dali Temple earlier—official duties ended in the afternoon, and it’s night now, yet he’s still not back.”
He raised his voice to the servants below the steps, “Speak! Where is your master right now?”
The two young servants had no idea where their master was. They stammered that he had been busy with cases recently, often working late at the office, occasionally not returning home at all. Sometimes a man dressed in a green cap would bring a message, saying there was no need to wait for him.
Under the Crown Prince’s intimidating questioning, they reluctantly divulged this information.
“A man in green with a cap?” Zhu Helin mused. “That’s typical attire for agents of the Embroidered Uniform Guard or the Eastern Depot. Since the Eastern Depot is now defunct, it must be the Embroidered Uniform Guard.”
Fu Bao reminded him, “Isn’t Lord Su handling matters related to the Embroidered Uniform Guard?”
“Even so, could he possibly be sleeping at the Northern Surveillance Bureau?” Zhu Helin slammed the table, causing a packet of Bone-In Abalone Snail treats to jump.
This “Bone-In Abalone Snail” was baked with milk and sugarcane syrup, shaped like abalone, with a crispy exterior and a silky interior. It was the specialty dessert of a Suzhou chef recently brought into the palace. Before leaving the palace, the Crown Prince had deliberately brought a freshly baked batch, wanting to let Su Yan have a taste. However, once again, they missed each other. His eager anticipation was wasted, leaving the Crown Prince both aggrieved and annoyed, leading to his outburst at the servants.
Su Xiaojing, terrified that the Crown Prince might hold his master accountable, quickly blurted out, “Your Highness, please calm down! While I don’t know where the master is, I overheard the coachman say that whenever waiting for the master, he always enjoys tofu pudding at the entrance of Jing Alley.”
Su Xiaobei, standing behind him, tugged hard on his coat to stop him, but failed to silence the slip of the tongue. He could only glare at him and mouth the words: Shut up! I’ll kill you!
Su Xiaojing shrank his neck like a quail in the cold, trembling but keeping silent.
Zhu Helin turned to Fubao and asked, “Where is Jing Alley?”
Fubao thought for a moment before replying, “I think it’s in Xiaoshiyong Lane.”
Zhu Helin immediately stood up, tucked the package of “Bone-In Abalone Snail” into his sleeve, and said, “Let’s go check it out.”
“Your Highness, the palace gates are about to close. Maybe tomorrow—”
“Tomorrow and tomorrow again—I can’t afford to waste time!”
The two left Su Yan’s residence, boarded the carriage, and sped away with the crack of the whip.
Su Xiaobei closed the door, turned around, and slapped Su Xiaojing on the head. Still unsatisfied, he grabbed the broom behind the door and began hitting him. Su Xiaojing yelped and pleaded for mercy, “Brother Bei, I won’t do it again! I was just worried the Crown Prince might blame the master—”
“I’m beating you because you’re a troublemaker!” Su Xiaobei stopped only when his arm grew tired, panting with frustration. “That thing on your neck is called a brain. If you don’t use it, give it to me for a hotpot!”
Su Xiaojing protested, “You can’t eat my brain! Don’t tell me you got addicted to cannibalism during the famine?”
Su Xiaobei wanted to crack his skull open with an axe. “Think carefully! Lately, every time Lord Su leaves court, he goes to Jing Alley. Sometimes he doesn’t even come home at night, and when he does, he’s bathed and wearing fresh clothes. Why? Either he has a lover waiting at the door or he’s keeping a secret mistress that he doesn’t want anyone to know about. If you go blabbing to the Crown Prince, and he catches him red-handed, how humiliating would that be for the master?”
Su Xiaojing was dumbfounded. “The Crown Prince… would care if someone keeps a mistress? There are so many officials in court—can he keep tabs on all of them?”
Su Xiaobei replied, “Our master is different from other officials. The favor he enjoys from the Eastern Palace is unparalleled, and so are the restrictions. Let’s just hope Master Su doesn’t stay overnight. If the Crown Prince barges in and throws a tantrum, dealing with that ‘floozy’ will be a mess.”
***
At that moment, Su Yan was in the boudoir of the so-called floozy commander, head buried in paperwork, writing furiously.
As long as the name of a certain commander or Commander of a specific guard unit was mentioned, Shen Qi would pause for a moment, then accurately recite the person’s tenure, the major cases they had handled, their working style, and even their quirks and habits.
He would then summarize with a pithy evaluation: “A talent, though terribly ugly—no major flaws otherwise.”
“Unfit for major responsibilities—good enough as a chopstick, but as a roof beam, the house would collapse.”
“Usable, but needs close monitoring to prevent getting out of control.”
“An absolute waste of space—better off going home to plant sweet potatoes.”
When it came to higher-ranking officials such as Chief Supervisors, Deputy Supervisors, or Assistant Supervisors, his critiques grew even more detailed, often denigrating the trusted officers personally promoted by Feng Que as worthless.
Su Yan couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s not all that bad, is it? At least they’ve been able to keep the Embroidered Uniform Guard functioning these past few years.”
Shen Qi snorted. “Eating while working—what’s the point of all that work? Keeping them around is no better than replacing the stone lions at the gate with pixiu statues!”
A complete purge—this was also Su Yan’s intention. These assistant supervisors and deputy supervisors were deeply entangled with Feng Que. Regardless of their capabilities, they couldn’t be retained. As people might say in modern terms: their “political stance is incorrect, and their ideological awareness is problematic.”
With a bold stroke of his brush, Su Yan marked next to their names: “Morally corrupt, ethically impure, all loyalists of Feng Que.”
Suddenly, an idea struck Su Yan, and he turned to Shen Qi with a sly smile. “That said, wasn’t Commander Shen also one of Feng Que’s loyalists? Isn’t there a saying about repaying the favor of recognition with undying gratitude?”
Though his tone was teasing, Shen Qi responded earnestly, “My lord exaggerates. This humble servant is, in fact, loyal to the Su faction, repaying the favor of saving my life with undying devotion.”
Su Yan felt his face heat up and threw the brush he was holding at Shen Qi’s head.
Shen Qi, lying prone on the edge of the bed, made no effort to dodge and allowed the brush to strike his forehead. Ink smeared across his face, forming a large black splotch. The brush handle rolled down, leaving spots across his nose and cheeks, making him look like a mottled wildcat.
Su Yan burst out laughing so hard he nearly fell over. The colder Shen Qi’s expression grew, the harder Su Yan laughed.
Finally catching his breath, Su Yan dampened a cloth with warm water and crouched by the bedside to wipe Shen Qi’s face.
As Su Yan’s face drew closer, Shen Qi leaned in, trying to steal a kiss, only for Su Yan to slap the damp cloth over his face. “If you’re so capable, clean it yourself!”
Taking out a newly purchased enamel pocket watch, Su Yan glanced at the time. It was just past nine in the evening. He rose, organized the papers on the desk, and placed them in a box. “I should be going. You should rest early too.”
Shen Qi was draping the damp cloth over his shoulder, scrubbing his own face. Hearing this, he tried to persuade, “Why not stay the night? My place is closer to the Dali Temple. It’ll save you the trouble of going back and forth.”
Su Yan shook his head. “I’ve been coming here after every shift these days, disturbing your rest and slowing your recovery. Thankfully, we’ve nearly finished vetting the personnel list and sorting the criminal case files. In another seven or eight days, everything should be organized and ready to present to His Majesty for a decision.”
Shen Qi’s eyes flashed coldly. “So, you’re saying that once I’m no longer of use, you won’t come anymore? Is Lord Su planning to discard the bow after the birds are gone?”
Su Yan massaged his temples. “There you go again! Haven’t I already explained? We’re brothers—how could I be so calculating? I simply want you to focus on recovering. Healing a serious injury takes a hundred days. You’ve only been resting for half a month; there’s still a long way to go.”
Shen Qi didn’t reply, merely letting out a series of cold chuckles.
Ever since Su Yan had seen Shen Qi’s wounds after the punishment, his tolerance for the man had unknowingly increased. With renewed patience, he coaxed, “Qilang, be reasonable. I’m swamped with work and truly can’t stay here around the clock. During your recovery, I’ll visit whenever I can. Once you’re healed, I’ll personally petition the emperor to reward you for your service.”
Shen Qi had been feigning weakness for almost a month now, and it went entirely against his nature, making the act particularly exhausting. At this moment, his true mischievous side began to stir, yearning to wreak a bit of havoc, though his current state left him powerless to do so.
His back wound had only just started to scab, the surface a patchwork of uneven scars, while the muscles underneath twisted and grew incessantly, causing unrelenting pain day and night. Only when he saw Su Yan did this agony diminish, overwhelmed by a stronger longing. Only when Su Yan stayed by his side for a night or two could he find restful sleep.
Now, just imagining enduring this powerless state for another two months caused his accumulating frustration and malice to boil over.
Watching Su Yan leave, Shen Qi’s gaze darkened, the cold fury in his eyes nearly tangible. He curled his fingers into claws, tearing at the bedding beneath him, shredding the fabric to ribbons.
Outside, Su Yan had just stepped out of his estate when he found himself face-to-face with the Crown Prince, stepping down from a carriage.
Zhu Helin froze momentarily, his expression then turning somber as his eyes reddened slightly. Struggling to suppress his anger, he strode forward and asked in a low voice, “Whose residence is this? What are you doing here?”
Meeting the Crown Prince at Shen Qi’s doorstep, Su Yan recalled that they hadn’t seen each other in over half a month. Considering his role as the prince’s Shidu, Su Yan felt a pang of guilt for neglecting his duties and stammered, “This is… the residence of a brother of mine. He was gravely injured saving me, so I’ve been visiting whenever I can.”
Internally calculating, Zhu Helin suppressed his fury, a smile gradually forming on his lips. “Could it be the Commander Shen you mentioned among the ‘Twelve Charges? The one you personally exonerated of all charges and praised publicly during the court assembly? You certainly hold this brother in high esteem—true camaraderie, willing to risk life and limb! Since he’s the righteous man praised by Grand Tutor Li himself, I absolutely must meet him and commend his heroic deeds in person!”
The youthful Crown Prince’s face, though still bearing traces of boyishness, now carried a hint of maturity, giving Su Yan the illusion that he had grown overnight. This newfound depth also made the once effortless intimacy between them feel subtly strained.
Unaware of Su Yan’s musings, Zhu Helin maintained his smile as he forcefully pulled him back inside.
Though the household staff had orders to allow Su Yan free access, they were wary of this unfamiliar visitor, moving to block his path.
Seeing the Crown Prince’s brows arch—a prelude to an outburst—Su Yan quickly scolded, “In the presence of His Highness, who dares be insolent? Hurry and report to Commander Shen! Even if he’s bedridden, the entire household should come out to greet him!”
He deliberately created a commotion to alert Shen Qi, giving him time to prepare mentally and avoid embarrassment when meeting the crown prince unprepared.
Zhu Helin’s private outing from the palace was not something he wanted widely known, leaving him in an awkward position. He noted Su Yan’s evident efforts to protect his so-called “brother,” and his heart was filled with a sour jealousy. Turning to the steward who hurriedly greeted him at the Shen residence, Zhu Helin said, “No need for a formal reception. I’m here to visit a meritorious official—just passing through and won’t stay long.”
The steward, both respectful and uneasy, led the way with a lamp. Zhu Helin held tightly onto Su Yan’s wrist, passing through two courtyards without stopping in the main hall of the third courtyard. Instead, he headed directly for the owner’s quarters.
“If he’s too injured to rise, then let him lie there. I’ll go inside and see him,” Zhu Helin declared, reaching for the door to the bedroom.
Su Yan, flustered, reached out again to stop him.
Zhu Helin fixed his gaze on Su Yan, whose heart pounded under the intense scrutiny. He thought to himself, What’s gotten into this brat today? He wasn’t throwing his usual tantrum with shouting and stomping, but neither did it seem like he genuinely came to visit the injured. Ten minutes ago, Zhu Helin might not even have remembered who Shen Qi was.
This behavior doesn’t feel like a sick visit—it feels like he’s scouting the enemy under the guise of negotiations.
Confused and helpless, Su Yan could only try to dissuade him. “Your Highness, Shen Qi’s injuries have not healed, and the air inside the room is likely foul—it wouldn’t do for you to catch something. Moreover, it’s not proper etiquette for a crown prince to enter a subordinate’s bedroom.”
Zhu Helin twitched the corner of his mouth but didn’t get angry. Instead, he spoke with a slightly nasal tone, “You, a delicate scholar, attend to him at his bedside every night—how are you not afraid of catching something? You say it’s improper for me to enter his room, but is it proper for you to stay here overnight and not return home?”
Su Yan had no answer. After a moment, he came up with a dignified excuse. “Shen Qi and I are brothers who’ve risked our lives for each other. It’s only right that I repay his lifesaving kindness by caring for him in his illness. As for staying over once or twice…”
Staying in the guest room might still pass for proper, but sharing the same bed definitely crossed a line. Su Yan, even to himself, found the situation indefensible. Lowering his head, he muttered, “I’ll go home earlier in the future.”
Still gripping Su Yan’s wrist, Zhu Helin said nothing.
At that moment, the bedroom door was abruptly pulled open. Shen Qi stood before them, dressed in dark underclothes. His face was pale, but his posture was upright. His sharp gaze flicked briefly and piercingly toward Zhu Helin before he bent his knee to kneel.
The thick scent of medicinal herbs wafted over. Su Yan, alarmed, hurriedly supported Shen Qi’s arm. “Don’t move recklessly! Your wound has just scabbed over—if it reopens, it’ll only worsen your recovery!”
“There’s no need for formalities. Rise,” Zhu Helin said, his tone unreadable.
Shen Qi, leaning on Su Yan, stood straight and respectfully said, “Your Highness, it is an honor to have you visit my humble home. I apologize for failing to greet you properly due to my injury. May I ask what instructions Your Highness has for me?”
Zhu Helin, still not fully grown, had to tilt his head slightly to look up at Shen Qi. His careful scrutiny revealed a faint, indescribable sense of threat emanating from the man’s presence. Especially in Shen Qi’s eyes—beneath the veneer of obedience, there seemed to lurk the predatory instincts of a wild beast, which Zhu Helin found unsettling.
“Today, I came for three reasons,” Zhu Helin declared. “First, on behalf of the Emperor, to visit an injured hero and demonstrate imperial grace. Second, to see for myself this ‘righteous man’ whom Grand Tutor Li praised. As for the third…”
He paused deliberately, then yanked Su Yan closer before continuing, “Qinghe has been promoted to Shaoqing of the Dali Temple, but he remains my shidu and subordinate. Henceforth, apart from his official duties, he must still serve the Eastern Palace. He shouldn’t spend too much time here. If you need attendants, I’ll gift you ten servant boys and ten maidservants—my eunuchs will deliver them tomorrow. You should thank me for the favor.”
Shen Qi gritted his teeth in secret but bowed his head. “Thank you for Your Highness’s generosity.”
The corner of Zhu Helin’s lips curved into a smile. “It’s what you deserve. As for anything you don’t deserve, don’t dwell on it. Focus on recovering so you can continue to serve the Emperor and the nation.”
With that, he strode out, dragging Su Yan along.
Shen Qi stood motionless in the doorway, half-shrouded in darkness by the angled light of the lanterns under the eaves. His gaze, caught at the intersection of light and shadow, smoldered with suppressed fury.
Zhu Helin walked quickly, pulling Su Yan all the way to the carriage waiting outside the Shen residence.
Rubbing his sore wrist, Su Yan was about to speak when Zhu Helin pulled out a package of “Bone-In Abalone Snail” from his sleeve, popping one into Su Yan’s slightly parted lips.
“I brought these snacks for you from the palace,” Zhu Helin said cheerfully. When Su Yan didn’t respond immediately, he urged, “Try it! Isn’t it good? Try it!”
Caught off guard, Su Yan chewed twice. The crisp shell and creamy filling were rich and sweet, reminiscent of cream puffs he had enjoyed in another life, sparking a pang of nostalgia.
Seeing that Su Yan enjoyed the treat, Zhu Helin fed him another piece and then ate one himself, his face radiating joy.
Looking at Zhu Helin’s innocent and delighted expression, Su Yan felt as if the brat had reverted to his old, guileless self. Yet, the earlier encounter left him slightly disoriented. Tentatively, he asked, “Your Highness, why did you leave the palace today?”
“To see you, of course. I came three times, and every time you weren’t there. I got annoyed, so I personally came to drag you back.” As the carriage rolled on, Zhu Helin scooted closer, pressing himself companionably against Su Yan. With a hint of grievance, he added, “It’s been 22 days since I last saw you after returning to the palace. Don’t you miss me?”
Su Yan couldn’t help but laugh. When he had downtime, of course, he would think of this little rascal—wondering what he might be doing at the moment, whether he had finished his lessons for the day, how his quiz results had turned out, and whether he’d received praise or scolding from the emperor. He also thought about how, once his current tasks were completed, he’d visit the Eastern Palace with some curious trinkets bought at the market to cheer him up.
However, he had been so busy these past days, barely touching the ground with his feet, practically working around the clock without eating or sleeping properly. Visiting the Eastern Palace wasn’t even an option—he barely had time to stay at his own home. The two nights he spent at Shen Qi’s residence were simply because he had been too exhausted and fell asleep at the desk. When he woke up, his outer robe had already been removed, and finding himself lying beside Shen Qi, he simply continued sleeping there.
“Do you miss me or not? Speak up!” Zhu Helin bared his teeth, feigning a threatening expression, as if he would pounce and tickle Su Yan if he didn’t receive a satisfactory answer.
Su Yan smiled. “Yes, yes, yes.”
“Hmph, so perfunctory,” the crown prince complained. He patted the crumbs off his fingers, then stuffed the remaining half-bag of sweets into Su Yan’s coat. “The palace gates are locked for the night, so I can’t go back. What do we do now?”
“Ask the palace guards to open the gates for you?”
“No, they’ll tattle to Royal Father.”
“Then what do you propose?”
“I’ll spend the night at your residence and return when the palace gates open in the morning.”
“That won’t do! If the Crown Prince doesn’t return to the Eastern Palace overnight, and the Emperor finds out, you’ll get scolded, and I’ll be finished!”
“Aren’t you my Shidu? You won’t even help me with this trivial matter?” Zhu Helin jabbed Su Yan’s chest with his finger, fuming. “Don’t try to dodge it. If I say I’m staying, I’m staying. Give up half your bed—no, two-thirds—for me!”
“My duty is to assist in your studies, not to share a bed!” Su Yan blurted out and immediately regretted it, wishing he could swallow his tongue.
“Assist in what? What did you just say?”
“Nothing!”
“It was definitely something—I heard it! Say it again!”
“…Get lost!”
“Bold of you to insult me!” Zhu Helin lunged forward, mercilessly tickling Su Yan’s sides.
Struggling to escape, Su Yan slid down from his seat. The carriage suddenly jolted to a stop, and his forehead smacked heavily against Zhu Helin’s shoulder. He cried out in pain, stars swimming in his vision.
Zhu Helin quickly helped him up, examining his forehead with concern, and yelled at the driver, “What kind of driving is this? Are you tired of living?”
Outside the carriage, the driver apologized loudly, “Young master, forgive me! It’s the city patrol—they’ve surrounded our carriage, saying they’re here to apprehend an assassin.”
***
Wu Ming had slipped into the inner city just before the gates closed.
The eight gates leading out of the outer city were shut tight, and soldiers had swept through every corner, imposing roadblocks, issuing wanted posters, and conducting house-to-house searches for any trace of the assassin.
The outer city, home to commoners, was easy for soldiers to search efficiently.
Unable to leave, Wu Ming made his way into the capital’s inner city.
The inner city was vast, its size more than quadruple that of the outer city, with a labyrinth of streets and alleys and countless residences. A thorough search here would be time-consuming and labor-intensive, especially with the many noble estates whose sprawling gardens made excellent hiding places. Wu Ming planned to lay low in the inner city until the commotion subsided.
Under the cover of night, his shadow flitted across rooftops like an owl diving into a forest, vanishing into the vast grounds of an imposing estate.
The plaque above the grand gate bore three gilded characters: “Yu Wang’s Residence”.
Near the rear gardens, in front of a side chamber, Xiyan stood holding a candle, sighing at the withering blossoms of the crabapple tree. Late May had arrived, and the blooming season had ended. The falling petals stirred in him a sense of shared melancholy, robbing him of sleep.
He had come to perform for Yu Wang, finally earning the right to stay in the estate with his singing. Yet three days had passed, and he hadn’t so much as glimpsed a corner of his robe.
What did it mean? Had he offended Wangye in some way? Uneasy, Xiyan dared not approach Yu Wang directly. Summoning courage, he had asked the servants, only to receive a cold reply: “Wait. If Wangye wants to see you, he’ll summon you.” Left with no choice, he continued to wait in vain.
“Afraid the flowers might sleep too deeply at night, I burn a tall candle to illuminate their beauty…” Dressed in feminine attire and theatrical costume, Xiyan sang softly under the veranda, hoping Yu Wang might hear and remember the “flower-like beauty” in his residence.
Wu Ming, leaping across the roof, nearly slipped when startled by the high-pitched trill, dislodging a roof tile.
Xiyan gasped, looking up at the roof. His voice trembled as he called out, “Who’s there?”
Wu Ming looked down, spotting a face painted starkly white and red, clad in gender-ambiguous attire. He frowned and retorted, “What kind of ghost?”
