Shen Qi entered the palace at night to seek an audience with the Emperor. Surprisingly, the Emperor was not in the Hall of Mental Cultivation or the Imperial Study in the inner palace, nor in the Fengtian Hall of the outer court. Instead, he was in Wenhua Hall, situated in the outer court’s eastern wing, just in front of the Crown Prince’s residence at Duanben Palace.
Wenhua Hall was the place where the Crown Prince studied and attended lessons. Historically, it also served as the office for Crown Princes handling affairs of state before their formal ascension. Between it and Duanben Palace lay the Imperial Pharmacy, infusing Wenhua Hall with a faint medicinal fragrance.
In this atmosphere, the Emperor’s face appeared as solemn as a mist-shrouded mountain at night, grave and imposing.
Facing the kneeling Shen Qi, the Emperor scrutinized him for a long while before finally speaking: “Do you still remember the answer you gave me in the Longde Hall of the Eastern Garden?”
Shen Qi replied, “Your Majesty, I dare not forget it, even unto death.”
—
That night, the Emperor had asked him why he had exposed Feng Que. Shen Qi had answered that it was because Feng Que was disloyal to his sovereign and corrupt to the detriment of the state. The Emperor, however, had shown little satisfaction with these answers.
“I’ll ask you one last time: Why did you expose Feng Que?”
Shen Qi knew that another wrong answer this time would not only cost Feng Que his life but also strip Shen Qi of his career and future.
“For… survival.”
“Yes, that is the truth,” the Emperor said, nodding faintly. “The late Emperor loved opera. He used to say that the steps beneath the imperial hall were a stage. Actors of all roles—sheng, dan, jing, mo, chou—paint their faces and take the stage, their flowing sleeves mesmerizing all who watch. But the Son of Heaven, seated above the nine steps, must possess discerning eyes capable of seeing past the masks to the hearts beneath.”
Hearing this, Shen Qi became solemn. “Your Majesty, my loyalty to you and the state is as clear as day. May Your Majesty judge it rightly.”
“You are loyal, but you also have your personal motives. For now, they align. But that doesn’t mean they always will. I hope that day never comes—talent like yours is hard to find.”
—
The Emperor’s warning still echoed in Shen Qi’s mind, blending with the faint medicinal scent in Wenhua Hall into a bitter and prophetic undertone. Shen Qi knew that no matter how deeply he absorbed the Emperor’s words, they wouldn’t change his fate. From the moment he saw a certain someone under the moonlight at Chengqing Bridge, he had been destined to live, fight, and perhaps even die for that person.
As Shen Qi was lost in thought, the Emperor continued: “Since you still remember, show me your resolve. I have an urgent matter for you, one that must succeed without fail.”
The muscles in Shen Qi’s back tensed involuntarily. In the faint pain of old injuries, he waited for the decree that would allow him to return to his beloved’s side.
“Last night, during the Xu hour, the Crown Prince was ambushed in a dark alley in Dashi Yong Lane within the inner city. He was poisoned.”
Shen Qi: “?”
“Fortunately, he acted decisively to escape and neutralize the poison. He was sent back to the Eastern Palace and, after treatment by the imperial physicians, is now out of danger. I hereby order you to investigate this matter thoroughly, uncover the culprits, and ensure the court and harem remain undisturbed.”
Shen Qi: “!!”
“What is it? Are you surprised? The Northern Surveillance Bureau is responsible for counterespionage and high-profile investigations. Assigning you to this case is perfectly logical. Or do you have other thoughts?”
Shen Qi replied, “….This official is simply overwhelmed by Your Majesty’s trust in my meager capabilities. Entrusting such a critical case to me is a tremendous honor. I pledge to uncover the truth and bring the perpetrators to justice for Your Majesty’s judgment.”
The Emperor walked slowly to his side and patted his shoulder. “Rise. I grant you the privilege of delivering reports standing from now on.”
Shen Qi thanked the Emperor and stood.
This turn of events had caught him completely off guard. It extinguished his hopes and rendered his careful scheming useless. He couldn’t ask questions or show any disappointment; all he could do was swallow his frustration and comply.
To be fair, the Emperor’s decision to entrust him with this investigation was a mark of confidence in his abilities. It also solidified his status as a favored rising star in the Embroidered Uniform Guard, a symbol of the Emperor’s favor and his bright future.
If not for Su Yan, Shen Qi might have felt gratified and dedicated himself fully to serving the Emperor—since it aligned with his ambitions anyway.
But now, faced with this overwhelming imperial favor, his heart held only cold laughter, devoid of any true gratitude.
As the Emperor smoothed a wrinkle in his sleeve and passed by Shen Qi, he left him with one more instruction: “Nominally, Xin Zhenhai is still your superior. Find time to visit him and bring him some quality medicine.”
Shen Qi answered woodenly, “Your official obeys.” He no longer cared whether this was another ambiguous warning or a veiled rebuke.
Outside Wenhua Hall, he gazed at the starry night sky. To him, the Emperor was like the vast, oppressive heavens, majestic and unyielding. And he, perhaps one day, would become a lightning bolt, fleeting yet defiant, striking against the inevitability of fate.
At that moment, he finally understood Wu Ming.
In the small Southern Courtyard, that destitute assassin, with an unyielding spirit, had declared: “I have hatred in my heart, a sword in my hand. Whatever I desire to do, I will do!”
Shen Qi covered the upper half of his face with his hand and laughed quietly, a glint of light flickering between his fingers.
—
When Zhu Helin woke up in his bedroom, daylight streamed through the windows. He raised his arm to inspect his bandaged hand and scoffed, “Just a small wound. It’s not like my hand was severed. These imperial physicians always exaggerate.”
Noticing he was awake, a maid hurried over to attend to him. Zhu Helin, suppressing the lingering dizziness, sat up and allowed her to assist with washing.
“What time did I return, and how?” he asked the palace maid.
“Young Master, you were brought back by the imperial guards at the first quarter of the Hai hour last night.”
“Tell me exactly what happened.”
“Yes. At that time, Young Master was still unconscious, and it scared me to death. All the imperial physicians came, consulting and prescribing remedies. The Imperial Pharmacy worked through the night to prepare the medicine. The Emperor sat by your bedside for most of the night, right here—” The palace maid pointed to the spot. “The Emperor held your hand silently, just watching. He even personally wiped your sweat and stayed until the fourth watch of the night. Only when the physicians repeatedly assured him that the remaining poison had been cleared and you would wake soon did he leave for morning court.”
Zhu Helin showed a look of both gratitude and guilt. In a low voice, he said, “It was my reckless actions that caused Royal Father to worry.”
Since the passing of the late Empress, Zhu Helin had been the sole heir of the royal family, growing up over the past fourteen years under the Emperor’s doting care. Despite occasional frustrations and disappointments—such as the indifference from his imperial grandmother, the favoritism shown to Imperial Concubine Wei and her newly born prince, or the criticisms from certain officials regarding his temperament and studies—it all paled in comparison to the favor he received as the heir to the throne.
The Emperor was like an umbrella, shielding him from storms and nurturing his growth into someone proud, passionate, and unrestrained.
He lived with an open heart, needing no guile. His status as the Crown Prince gave him unparalleled authority and influence, wielded without hesitation.
However, the harrowing experience of narrowly escaping death last night served as a wake-up call–
The palace he had been born and raised in, and the capital city beneath the Emperor’s feet, were no longer as safe and dependable as he once believed. At some point—perhaps from the day the new prince was born, or even earlier—the political climate within and outside the court had shifted subtly. There was a faint but palpable undercurrent of unrest, as though dark forces were stirring in secret.
They seemed to have calculated his carelessness, baring their fangs with a glint of cold light, just like the venomous snake that bit him last night.
—Zhu Helin vividly remembered the shadow that attacked him—a figure that was neither entirely human nor beast. In the fleeting moment he caught sight of it, he thought he saw a pair of eerie, blood-red eyes resembling those of a wild animal.
Outside the hall, faint noises could be heard. It seemed Cheng Sheng was conversing with someone. Zhu Helin pricked up his ears, then smirked and called out, “Is that Fourth Royal Uncle? Come in.”
Yu Wang stepped into the inner hall, gave a cursory bow, and seated himself in a circle-backed chair without ceremony. “I heard the Crown Prince was injured, so I came to check on you. How do you feel now? I brought some fine bear bile and snow lotus to help clear the poison and restore your energy.”
Zhu Helin found the slight smile on Yu Wang’s lips rather irksome, but since the man had come to express his concern and brought precious medicine, it would be unbecoming to show him disrespect—whether out of princely decorum or familial bonds. So he returned the courtesy and said, “Thank you, Fourth Royal Uncle, for your thoughtfulness.”
It was the first time the Crown Prince had spoken to him so amicably since the incident at the Southern Courtyard involving the “hidden cabinet scandal.” Yu Wang was mildly surprised but masked his emotions well. In a tone of concern, he asked, “The Imperial Medical Bureau reported it was a snake bite. There are snakes in the palace? Was it in the hall or the imperial garden?”
Zhu Helin had no intention of revealing why he had left the palace. He answered dismissively, “The garden is lush with vegetation; it’s not surprising to find snakes there.”
“In summer, snakes are more common. The palace grounds should indeed be fumigated with realgar,” Yu Wang remarked. “The physicians praised you for acting swiftly—cutting the wound and squeezing out most of the venom in time. Otherwise, given the potency of this venom, it could have spread through your entire body in less than half an hour. By the way, do you know what kind of snake bit you?”
Zhu Helin silently cursed whichever imperial physician had been so loose-lipped to Yu Wang. If he found out who it was, they’d face consequences. Out loud, he said, “I didn’t see clearly. It slithered away right after the bite.”
Yu Wang continued, “When soldiers are bitten by snakes during field expeditions, I’ve often been able to identify the species based on the bite marks. If you don’t mind, could I take a look at your wound?”
Zhu Helin saw no harm in it. Besides, the thick bandages were stifling his hand. He unwrapped them, wiped away the translucent ointment, and exposed the twin puncture marks surrounded by bruising.
Yu Wang leaned in, holding his hand for a closer inspection. After a moment, he asked, “Did it hurt after you were bitten?”
“No, just some numbness and a little itching.”
“Judging by the fang spacing, the snake was just over a finger’s width in girth, yet the venom was extremely potent. For a snake of this size to possess such toxicity and for the bite to be painless, it was likely a silver-ringed snake.”
He suddenly looked up at the Crown Prince, his gaze heavy with an inexplicable depth.
Zhu Helin felt uneasy and frowned. “Fourth Royal Uncle, if you have something to say, please speak plainly.”
Yu Wang picked up the ointment on the bedside table, applied it meticulously, and rewrapped the bandage slowly. “In the capital region, the only venomous snake is the viper. But whether it’s a short-tailed viper or a white-browed viper, their venom isn’t nearly as potent, and their fang spacing would be much wider. The snake that bit the Crown Prince is unlikely to be a wild local species—it was probably an exotic, domesticated breed.”
“—Last night, the Crown Prince was attacked, wasn’t he?” Yu Wang stated with certainty. “And outside the palace, no less. Otherwise, the palace would have begun fumigating with realgar this morning.”
Zhu Helin stared at him in astonishment.
Experience truly comes with age. He had nearly forgotten that this Fourth Royal Uncle had once been a border prince and a renowned general. When Zhu Helin was still a babbling toddler, Yu Wang’s name had already echoed across the frontier.
After a brief pause, he asked, “Fourth Royal Uncle, what do you think about the attempt on my life?”
Yu Wang gave a faint laugh. “‘What do I think?’ That tone of yours sounds just like royal brother. Truly a family trait.”
“My opinion doesn’t matter. This case isn’t under my jurisdiction. Right now, I’m focusing on building an academy and staying out of trouble. As for whoever’s been tasked with investigating this matter, it’s likely either the Ministry of Justice or the Northern Surveillance Bureau. Hmm, if your father wishes to keep it discreet, the latter is more likely. Do you know who currently heads the Northern Surveillance Bureau?”
A particular figure came to Zhu Helin’s mind—a man who appeared docile but was cunning beneath the surface. Grinding his back teeth, he said, “Shen Qi?”
Yu Wang’s smile turned enigmatic. “Precisely. By the way, I heard the Crown Prince holds him in high regard. A few months ago, while he was recovering at home, you rewarded him generously with servants for his meritorious deeds. If this case is entrusted to him, the Crown Prince can rest easy.”
Zhu Helin gave him an unreadable look, silently raising his guard. “Royal Father said he’s capable. If His Majesty entrusts him with this case, I will naturally follow Royal Father’s wishes and fully cooperate with the investigation.”
“By the way, I also heard that while it was you, Fourth Royal Uncle, who saved Qinghe in the small southern courtyard, Qinghe seems to be much closer to Shen Qi, the one who secretly exposed Feng Que. They even call each other brothers, and when Shen Qi was injured, Qinghe took care of him and stayed overnight. Fourth Royal Uncle, why does this sound so different from the stories I’ve read? Shouldn’t life-saving gratitude, especially when it’s from someone of your noble standing, make someone even more appreciative? But instead, it seems like Qinghe is avoiding you.”
The muscles at the corners of Yu Wang’s mouth twitched abruptly, turning his sneer into a grimace as if someone had poked at a sore spot.
It took him a few moments to recover from the thinly veiled jab. Forcing a smile, he replied, “Qinghe is merely keeping his distance to avoid suspicion. As a court official, it’s only natural that he wouldn’t publicly associate too closely with me, a county prince.”
Does that mean it’s okay to associate privately? How closely? The Crown Prince ground his molars again, his face now also wearing a faintly insincere smile. “Since Fourth Royal Uncle feels so close to Qinghe, why didn’t you see him off when he left the capital? I went that day, and so did Royal Father. Royal Father even gifted him an Imperial Sword, and according to Lan Gonggong, it moved him to tears on the spot. As for me, I didn’t give him any gifts at all. Instead, I told him that giving gifts would cheapen our friendship. Qinghe promised me he’d wait until I grew up—and then we even touched our lips against each other—”
Yu Wang clenched his fist inside his robe sleeve, his eyelid twitching uncontrollably. Through gritted teeth, he said, “Seeing how lively and spirited the Crown Prince is, it seems even ten poisonous snakes couldn’t take your life. That puts my mind at ease. I’ll leave you to recover and not disturb you further. Goodbye.” With that, he stormed off, his sleeves billowing behind him.
The Crown Prince deliberately waited until he was just past the threshold before pounding the bed frame with his uninjured left hand and bursting into hearty laughter.
Outside the hall, the eunuchs and maids, seeing Yu Wang’s frosty expression as he left, clearly upset after a spat with the Crown Prince, all bowed their heads silently, not daring to speak.
After leaving Duanben Palace, Yu Wang’s expression gradually softened. The shadow on his face dispersed, replaced by a faint, cold smirk. “Driving wolves to swallow tigers? That move of yours is still too immature, little brat.”
After a few more steps, he suddenly paused, frowning to himself: Qinghe took care of Shen Qi when he was injured? The Crown Prince deliberately emphasized ‘staying overnight.’ Was he just guessing, or did he actually witness it? If so, gifting those twenty child servants and maids wasn’t just a warning—it was a humiliation.
Shen Qi… Yu Wang’s fingers absently traced the hilt of the fishgut sword concealed in his sleeve, finally paying serious attention to this rising star in the Embroidered Uniform Guard, whose reputation was growing both in and out of court.
