Chapter 74
Proofreader : Mim
The invitation from the Prince Jing’s estate was like a net cast over Xie Lanxu, drawing him into its tangled threads.
Li Zhi lay in her bed, tossing and turning until dawn. She couldn’t tell whether her sleepless night was due to her usual insomnia or the absence of a certain someone by her side.
So, this is the power of habit, she thought bitterly.
The next morning, well before the sun rose, she was already seated in her carriage, arriving at Cheng’an Gate with her waist token to enter the palace.
By the time she reached the Palace Administration Bureau offices on foot, Director Ma was already there.
As she organized documents at her desk, her gaze kept flitting toward the doorway, hoping to catch sight of a familiar figure.
Plenty of people came and went, but none of them were the one she was waiting for.
Her mind wandered, imagining how Prince Jing might be threatening Xie Lanxu. She couldn’t concentrate on her work.
“Li Sizheng,” Director Ma’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “I need you to deliver a message to Eunuch Gao at Ziwei Palace.”
“I’ll go then,” Li Zhi replied.
Delivering messages or items to Eunuch Gao, the perpetually stern-faced eunuch, was a task universally dreaded among the Palace Administration Bureau staff. But Li Zhi was always the one to take it on without complaint.
At Ziwei Palace, she handed the message to a gatekeeper, and soon after, a tall and slender figure emerged.
Eunuch Gao’s gaunt appearance was unsettling. His pale skin clung tightly to his sunken eye sockets and high cheekbones, making him look like he wore a detachable mask of skin.
Expressionless, he approached Li Zhi, lips pressed into a thin line, silently waiting for her to state her purpose.
Li Zhi curtsied gracefully and conveyed Director Ma’s arrangements for the upcoming New Year’s Eve banquet.
Her memory was impeccable, and she relayed the details with clarity and precision, not missing a single word. Most palace staff were so intimidated by Eunuch Gao’s grim demeanor that they often forgot their lines, but Li Zhi remained calm and composed.
When she finished, Eunuch Gao nodded and added a few supplementary instructions of his own.
“I will relay this to Director Ma,” Li Zhi said, bowing again.
Eunuch Gao, as usual, said nothing. He turned on his heel and strode back into Ziwei Palace without a second glance.
Li Zhi, accustomed to his aloof manner, didn’t mind.
She chose a different route back to the Palace Administration Bureau, one that passed by the Eastern Palace.
The Eastern Palace had long been sealed off, its gates locked tightly. Even so, she couldn’t resist walking along its high red walls, hoping to catch a glimpse of its overgrown interior through the cracks and crevices.
If Crown Princess Wei, the late imperial consort, had left any clues about the previous dynasty’s treasure, they would surely be hidden in the Eastern Palace.
Xie Lanxu was the last living bloodline of the Cui dynasty. Could it really be true that Crown Princess Wei had left him no information at all?
Lost in thought, Li Zhi walked along the red walls, her mind weighed down with questions.
Suddenly, she stopped.
In the distance, standing tall and poised on the palace path, was Xie Lanxu.
He was gazing intently at a white magnolia tree that had grown over the red walls of the Eastern Palace, its blossoms cascading like snowdrifts against the vivid crimson backdrop.
His expression was unreadable—a mixture of longing, remembrance, and perhaps even confusion.
A strong gust of wind swept past, causing the magnolia blossoms to sway, and the wide, green-blue sleeves of his robes rippled like waves.
Sensing her presence, Xie Lanxu turned his head and met her eyes.
For a fleeting moment, Li Zhi’s heartbeat faltered, her composure slipping.
She quickly smiled and approached him, stopping at his side.
“What brings you here, Ah-Li?” she asked softly.
“Admiring the flowers,” Xie Lanxu replied, his gaze returning to the magnolia blossoms adorning the wall.
“Yesterday, you were summoned by Prince Jing and didn’t return. I was worried about you,” Li Zhi said as she moved closer, her right hand lightly hooking around his, hidden within the folds of his wide sleeves.
Xie Lanxu didn’t look at her, but he tightened his grip on her hand—firm, but not too much.
“I was thinking,” he said.
“And have you come to a decision?”
He was silent for a long moment before finally speaking.
“Prince Jing claims to have evidence about the person behind the letter that accused my father and Li Qiaonian of collusion. He’s offered to give me this information—but only if I agree to join his faction and work against Prince Feng’s faction.”
Li Zhi’s eyes widened in surprise.
If she were in his position, and someone offered her the truth about her twin sister’s death in exchange for cooperation, she would agree without hesitation.
She couldn’t say for certain how Xie Lanxu felt about the deposed Crown Prince, but she knew one thing: overturning the charges against him was a key part of Xie Lanxu’s plans.
Without clearing the Crown Prince’s name, even if Xie Lanxu succeeded in a coup, his reign would lack legitimacy, and his claim to the throne would be unstable.
“What do you plan to do, Ah-Li?” Li Zhi asked cautiously.
Xie Lanxu didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he continued to gaze at the magnolia blossoms extending beyond the wall, their pale petals catching the sunlight.
“On the day the treason was discovered, the Imperial Guards surrounded the Eastern Palace,” he began, his voice low. “One of the Crown Prince’s aides warned him in advance, telling him to flee and save himself first. The plan was to survive and later gather evidence to clear his name.”
Even without Xie Lanxu saying it outright, Li Zhi already knew how that story ended.
The Crown Prince had refused the advice of his aide.
“When the Imperial Guards stormed the Eastern Palace, the Crown Prince sat there calmly, silent and unresisting. He allowed himself to be captured without any struggle,” Xie Lanxu said softly.
“Even at the execution grounds at Caishi Kou, he remained silent to the very end. He knew exactly who wanted him dead. The reasons didn’t matter. The evidence didn’t matter. Once that person decided to kill him, even if he had fled to the ends of the earth, his body might have survived, but his spirit would have already been crushed. Better to meet death with dignity than to endure a lifetime of torment.”
Xie Lanxu paused, his voice steady yet laced with resolve. “I will not end up like him.”
Li Zhi was startled. “You plan to reject Prince Jing’s offer?”
“He may have found this information, but so can others. I’m not foolish enough to ally myself with Prince Jing when the Emperor so clearly supports Prince Feng,” Xie Lanxu said, his voice unwavering. “The letter accusing my father and Li Qiaonian was delivered to the Emperor via the dragonhead statue outside Ziwei Palace. Only low-ranking palace servants would inspect the statue during rainstorms to find a blockage.”
His gaze finally settled on Li Zhi, sharp and discerning.
“I need you to investigate the year of the treason charges. Find out which palace servants were near Ziwei Palace and could have seen someone placing the letter into the statue.”
His voice was calm but carried an unmistakable weight.
“With your current position, you’re the perfect person to conduct this inquiry.”
Li Zhi nodded slightly. As someone in the Palace Administration Bureau, it was indeed a simple matter for her to access the records of palace servants. It would not raise suspicion.
If Xie Lanxu could exonerate the deposed Crown Prince, it would bring him one step closer to the throne.
And for Li Zhi, that would mean one step closer to becoming Empress.
After a moment’s thought, she agreed. “Don’t worry, Ah-Li. I’ll have the list prepared and delivered to you in the coming days.”
With official duties awaiting her, Li Zhi couldn’t linger. After standing quietly with Xie Lanxu for a while, watching the elegant white magnolias blooming atop the red walls, she excused herself and left.
Returning to the Palace Administration Bureau, Li Zhi had barely reached the gate when she saw Director Ma hurrying out with another officer. Both of their expressions were grim.
“Director Ma…”
“There’s no time to explain. Come with me,” Director Ma interrupted brusquely.
Li Zhi recognized the urgency in her tone and quickly followed.
The three of them passed through Jinrui Gate and entered the inner palace.
They walked swiftly, arriving at Jinglan Pavilion, the residence of Consort Lu Yao.
As they approached, the sound of yelling and the sharp slap of flesh echoed from the courtyard, setting Li Zhi’s heart on edge. She quickened her pace and stepped through the gates.
Inside, Lu Yao was kneeling on the ground, her face swollen and streaked with tears. A palace maid, one of Noble Consort Yi’s trusted attendants, was mercilessly slapping her across the face.
Nearby, under a tree, the earth had been freshly dug up. Lying in the shallow pit was a wooden effigy pierced with silver needles—a doll used in witchcraft.
Two lower-ranking maids knelt to the side, trembling with fear, barely daring to breathe. Li Zhi recognized one of them as the girl she had disciplined before; the other was unfamiliar, likely the second maid assigned to Lu Yao.
In the center of the chaos stood Noble Consort Yi, resplendent in a vibrant red palace gown and adorned with an ornate phoenix crown. Surrounded by a group of attendants, she radiated the air of a sovereign ruler of the harem.
“Director Ma…” Noble Consort Yi’s voice was sharp as she turned to address the older woman.
Director Ma stepped forward, bowing deeply. “Your Grace.”
“You’re just in time,” Noble Consort Yi said coldly, her expression a mask of fury. “Tell me, is it not true that practicing witchcraft in the imperial harem is punishable by death?”
Her voice, though laced with anger, was as clear and melodious as the ringing of silver bells.
Director Ma kept her head bowed and responded with respect, “Your Grace is correct. Witchcraft is one of the gravest taboos of the harem. According to the laws of Yan Dynasty, those who create or harbor objects of sorcery are, at minimum, sentenced to death, and at worst, their families are implicated and subjected to exile or execution.”
Noble Consort Yi scoffed. “Well, then. This girl is young and ignorant—I’ll spare her family. But her life? That’s forfeit.”
“This…” Director Ma hesitated, her gaze shifting to the weeping Lu Yao.
Lu Yao, her cheeks swollen and red, looked utterly broken. Her frail body, not yet fully developed, resembled a fragile sapling snapped by the wind.
She looked up at Director Ma, her tearful eyes filled with desperation and hope, as though the older woman held her last chance of survival.
Li Zhi knew that even if Director Ma felt a shred of pity for Lu Yao, she would never openly oppose Noble Consort Yi.
Director Ma was nearing the end of her service in the palace. Soon, she would retire and return home to live out her days in peace.
Why would she risk everything for a girl she had no personal connection to?
But for Li Zhi, Lu Yao wasn’t just a stranger.
Lu Yao was her responsibility—and her leverage.
She couldn’t stand idly by.
If she turned a blind eye to this, how was she any different from the people she despised?
Before Director Ma could formally agree to Noble Consort Yi’s demands, Li Zhi stepped forward.
She curtsied deeply and raised her voice, “Your Grace’s mercy is evident in sparing Consort Lu’s family from punishment. However, for the sake of preserving records of this case, it would be prudent to detain Consort Lu and her maids for further investigation. A comprehensive dossier should be compiled to address any potential doubts or accusations in the future.”
Noble Consort Yi’s sharp eyes narrowed as she turned her gaze to the unfamiliar figure who had just spoken. She scrutinized Li Zhi from head to toe. Until now, she hadn’t noticed the young woman standing behind Director Ma and the others.
“And who might you be?” Noble Consort Yi’s brows arched delicately.
“Your Grace, I am Li Zhi, newly appointed Sizheng of the Palace Administration Bureau. I have not yet had the honor of paying my respects to your esteemed presence,” Li Zhi replied, bowing her head low.
Noble Consort Yi’s voice was icy as she pressed further, “What exactly do you mean by doubts? Are you suggesting that I have wrongfully accused someone?”
“Your Grace, I speak only out of concern for your pristine reputation,” Li Zhi said, her tone steady and measured. “Consort Lu, after all, comes from an official’s family. Without a detailed and convincing dossier, ill-intentioned individuals could use this incident to discredit Your Grace. While His Majesty’s trust in you is unwavering, there is always the danger of rumors tarnishing your good name.”
Noble Consort Yi frowned slightly, her round face revealing a thoughtful expression. She wasn’t one to understand complex legalities, but she grasped the implications of Li Zhi’s words.
If she had aspirations for the position of Empress, she couldn’t afford to leave loose ends that might later be exploited by her detractors. Even if she believed she had done nothing wrong, she still feared the power of a scholar’s pen—or worse, the Emperor’s wrath.
Her eyes flickered with calculation.
After a brief pause, she said, “Fine. Do as you suggest. This girl has used witchcraft to curse me—she must face severe punishment. But once the dossier is complete, you are to report to me immediately.”
Li Zhi lowered her head in submission. “Your Grace’s wisdom and fairness are unparalleled. This servant will follow your orders without fail.”
Satisfied, Noble Consort Yi left the courtyard in a grand procession, her attendants trailing behind her like a colorful tide.
Director Ma, who had remained silent during the exchange, glanced at Li Zhi with an unreadable expression before departing with another officer.
The courtyard fell silent, save for the soft sounds of Lu Yao’s sobs. She knelt on the ground, trembling, her cheeks red and swollen from the repeated slaps. The two young maids knelt nearby, looking at one another with uncertainty, unsure of what to do next.
Li Zhi stepped toward Lu Yao, her expression a mixture of pity and determination as she studied the girl before her—a girl even younger than Li Cien.
“Crying won’t solve anything,” Li Zhi said, her voice firm but not unkind. “If you have the strength to cry, use it to think. Who might have framed you?”
Lu Yao wiped at her tears, her small face barely larger than a palm, glistening with streaks of water. Her large, round eyes shone with a sorrowful innocence, amplified by the watery light in them.
She was still a child, crying the way children do.
“Since entering the palace, I’ve been too scared to mingle in the harem’s schemes, so I’ve stayed in my chambers every day, never stepping outside…” Her voice hitched as she sobbed, “I… I don’t know… who could have done this to me…”
Her pitiable appearance chipped away at the stern resolve Li Zhi had been trying to maintain.
Li Zhi crouched down to meet her gaze. Slowly, she reached out to stroke Lu Yao’s hair, as gently as she had once touched Li Cien’s.
It was improper for a servant—even one of higher rank—to touch a noblewoman in such a way. But Li Zhi didn’t care.
Lu Yao blinked at her in stunned silence, her expression one of disbelief.
“Stop crying. I will help you uncover the truth,” Li Zhi said softly.
“Why… why would you… help me?” Lu Yao asked through her hiccups.
Because, the moment I saw you, my heart twisted with pain.
Because guilt weighs on me like a crushing tide, drowning me in remorse so deep I can barely breathe.
But she said none of that.
Her face remained calm as she replied, her voice quiet but resolute,
“It’s my duty, nothing more.”
