In Hanzhang Hall, Taichu Palace.
The main seat in the main hall was very spacious, almost as big as a small couch. Lu Lingzhen lay sideways on it with her hands clasped behind her head and her feet stacked while resting her eyes.
The maid outside the hall thought she was genuinely asleep, so when she saw Lu Lingcong appear, she added to her greeting, “The Princess is having a nap and hasn’t woken up yet.”
Hearing the sound, Lu Lingzhen leaped up, intending to vault directly over the back of the chair, but forgot she was not wearing functional combat attire. In her haste, she stepped on the sweeping hem of her skirt and fell heavily onto the floor below the seat.
This fall ruined her opportunity to escape. By the time she rubbed the back of her head and stumbled to her feet, Lu Lingcong had already entered.
Lu Lingzhen knew she couldn’t run away, so she just stood still, pursed her lips, and watched her brother’s figure pause at the hall entrance.
After a certain age; perhaps after twenty, Lu Lingzhen was startled to realize that the age gap between her and Lu Lingcong no longer manifested everywhere as the vast divide it had been in childhood.
That was exactly around the time the former emperor died, and the Xie clan suffered misfortune. Lu Lingzhen didn’t have time to prepare anything as the military tally for deploying the Hewei was suddenly placed in her hands.
She transformed from a carefree little princess hiding behind her elder brother into an ally and advisor for Prince Zhao’s Mansion overnight. Since then, the way she spoke and interacted with Lu Lingcong had changed.
The ten years after his marriage were almost stagnant; the traces of time’s passage were hardly visible on Lu Lingcong. He was sometimes even childlike, and Lu Lingzhen only felt that he was her “brother” when facing him, but not “elder.”
But now Lu Lingcong was a completely steady and dependable man; all traces of childishness, mischief, and youthful immaturity had vanished for good.
A few days ago, Lu Lingzhen privately submitted a memorial to the emperor by bypassing her elder brother and mother and without going through various procedures involving court eunuchs and officials but personally placed it on Lu Lingzhang’s desk.
The content was sparse and consisted of only a few words, merely stating a single desire to ask the emperor to quickly choose a suitable husband for her “in the capital,” preferably with the marriage concluded before the Mid-Autumn Festival.
Lu Lingzhen had long passed the usual age for a girl to be married off, which was inseparable from the undercurrents in the last few years before the former emperor’s death.
At that time, Lu Shuqing, as the most sought-after Imperial Grandson, had the respected Xie family and the wealthy Wu family relying on him, neither of which were ordinary forces, nor they were almost comparable to the soaring Wang family.
Furthermore, since the former Emperor had never publicly expressed his preference or attitude, no one dared to easily take sides.
At seventeen or eighteen, Lu Lingzhen had already reached marriageable age, yet she had become like a “chicken rib”; tasteless to consume, yet a pity to discard.
Logically, she was the only sister of Prince Zhao. If Prince Zhao’s Mansion were to win the throne in the future, the family who married the eldest princess would secure wealth and glory for this life, but if Prince Zhao’s Mansion lost the contest for the heir, the extent and severity of the implication they would suffer were completely unknown.
No one dared to make a reckless gamble on this matter. The few aristocratic families that had once offered an olive branch to the eldest princess all fell silent after deliberation, and the matter was ultimately shelved.
Lu Lingzhen was naturally happy to be left alone. Eventually, the former emperor died of illness, and she raised the banner of observing the three-year mourning period, which deterred any officials of the new dynasty from ever again daring to propose marriage for her.
She was the current emperor’s elder sister, and above her, her own elder brother still lived. According to ritual propriety, even Lu Lingzhang, as the Son of Heaven, could not say much against it.
But now, the eldest princess, who had always avoided marriage, suddenly petitioned for marriage with such urgency and complete disregard for her status, naturally causing an uproar in the court.
It was only today, at the morning court, when Lu Lingzhang asked, “Why is Imperial Sister suddenly keen on finding a husband,” that Lu Lingcong learned Lu Lingzhen had secretly gone over everyone’s heads and made such a proposal herself.
The brother and sister stared at each other for a long while, but Lu Lingzhen was the first to take the initiative, “Did the Xuanshi find anything in the mezzanine of Wang Chu’s study on the nineteenth day of the fifth month?”
She saw Lu Lingcong’s expression shift slightly, knew she had guessed correctly, and continued: “So something was indeed found. But you haven’t told Saosao yet?”
Lu Lingzhen had another thought, “Or is it that… you dare not tell Saosao?”
Lu Lingcong paused for a moment before admitting, “I haven’t figured out how to phrase it yet.”
Lu Lingzhen knew the clues Xuanshi found were mostly related to the truth of the Xie family case and didn’t ask further, only saying, “No matter what is uncovered, it will only be turning something that is already ninety percent true into one hundred percent true; what real difference is there? He must have already formed his own plan in his heart. If you are worried about hurting his feelings… he has already been hurt enough over these past three years; does it matter at this point? Besides, you know better than anyone how resilient his nature is.”
Lu Lingcong scrutinized her, “How do you know… I dare not tell him?”
Lu Lingzhen chuckled, “Yesterday, scarcely had you left the palace when Qing’er came to Hanzhang Hall, hesitantly saying that you’ve been distracted since returning from Jiming Temple these past few days, and asking whether I knew what had happened. And you still haven’t brought up the results of Xuanshi’s investigation. After thinking it through, it can only be this matter.”
Lu Lingcong rubbed his temples and returned to his original purpose, “Since you guessed it, why did you add to the confusion with that memorial?”
Lu Lingzhen glanced at him and sneered: “Why are you blaming others when it was your own heart that is in disarray?”
Lu Lingcong did not engage in verbal sparring with her, nor did he refute her. After a moment of silence, he actually nodded in admission: “I lost my composure. I didn’t sleep much last night, and my brain isn’t working.”
Lu Lingzhen and he sat down separately, “The court’s attitude toward having me marry for peace is likely mixed with both joy and worry. On one hand, they worry that if I marry far away and secretly coordinate with you, they will be beyond their reach; but on the other hand, if they can control me, it would also be a means of coercion and restraint against you.”
“Marrying for peace” was once an expedient measure used by the Prime Minister’s Mansion to coerce Lu Lingcong to return to the capital after learning Xie Jing’s whereabouts. It was never publicly discussed in court and was later suppressed by Lu Lingcong at the cost of surrendering the military authority of the Tiger Division; thus, no one mentioned it again.
Lu Lingzhen continued, “Precisely because of these two-sided considerations, it’s not that they won’t mention marrying for peace, but that they haven’t yet decided. Now that I am suddenly so anxiously petitioning for marriage, the court will undoubtedly be vigilant, suspecting that I agreed to find just anyone ‘in the capital’ simply because I don’t want to marry far away.”
Lu Lingcong replied to her, “I originally thought that, whether it was a political marriage for peace or not, I would try to delay your marriage. If you already had your own plans, you should have said so sooner.”
Lu Lingzhen looked at the square courtyard outside the hall, thought for a moment, and said, “Now that Saosao has returned to the capital and ties with Madam Cui of the Prime Minister’s Mansion have been established, the plans laid over these years have reached the point where they must be brought into the open. It is foreseeable that within the next year or two, turmoil in the capital will be inevitable. If the Northern Desert takes advantage of this vacuum, will you quell the foreign threats first or secure internal stability first?”
Lu Lingcong’s expression tightened: “Are you planning to use the opportunity of marrying for peace to escape to a border state first and then serve as a garrison commander?”
“It’s impossible for me to truly become the legitimate General Jianwei… This is the only way if I want to leave the palace city and Jinling far behind and see the world outside.”
Lu Lingcong understood her character and knew that since she had spoken these words, it was the result of deep consideration. He only said, “You need to figure out what to say to Mother.”
“I know, that’s why I’ve kept this idea until today… Now that Qing’er and Ningning are both serving at Mother’s knee, even if I, her daughter, am not by her side, they can also help console her.”
Lu Lingzhen smiled. “Besides, I’m not even staying there for a lifetime. You can still travel between the capital and the Northern Desert twice a year. When things are settled in the future, I can also come back just by saying so.”
Lu Lingcong was silent for a moment: “The Eldest Princess has long been capable of handling things on your own; I never expected to be able to control you.” He stood up and walked toward the inner chamber, conceding, “Tell me then, what is your plan?”
Xie Jing sat alone on the covered walkway with his knees drawn up, able to see the servants going in and out through the moon gate, efficient and well-trained.
He had instructed them that the entire household must be swept and cleaned daily, but he himself had never set foot in the old rooms where his parents, older brother, sister-in-law, and Xie Jun had lived as if observing a commandment, fearing that once he crossed the line, it would provoke some earth-shattering divine retribution.
Since the late emperor’s birthday on the nineteenth day of the fifth month, Xie Jing had not seen anyone from his family in private. Lu Lingcong had never met him in the secret room, nor had he attempted to relay any messages.
When he accidentally met Cui Shushi at the Prime Minister’s Mansion the day before yesterday, he couldn’t help but ask if the Xuanshi had found anything in the mezzanine of the Prime Minister’s Mansion’s study, but Cui Shushi merely shook her head, stating that she had only stood guard outside the door that day, and as for what the person inside had found, she neither knew nor cared.
Xie Jing then understood the meaning behind Lu Lingcong avoiding him—the result must not be pleasant, which was why Lu Lingcong hadn’t yet figured out how to tell him.
He noticed that since their reunion, Lu Lingcong seemed always somewhat timid and hesitant when facing him, rarely bringing up old matters. Whenever they were brought up, unless it was absolutely necessary, it was always after careful deliberation, glossed over in just a few brief words.
Perhaps these three years were like a gap where time was almost stagnant and mutual companionship was absent, and since Xie Jing always concealed his joy and sorrow, Lu Lingcong couldn’t determine or grasp whether he was still trapped in the shadow of the family tragedy and, out of a sense of guilt and protectiveness, could only cautiously test his emotions.
This was already much better than he had anticipated—Xie Jing could only console himself this way.
When he left the capital, he had already decided in his mind that it would be a final farewell, initially only hoping to properly protect Lu Shuning to live or, failing that, entrust her to a trustworthy family so that even if he himself died, he would have fewer regrets.
Later, when the fearsome reputation of the “God of War” Prince Zhao gradually spread to the border state, he learned that Lu Lingcong had not stopped fighting, nor had he given up the hope of meeting and reuniting.
The servants sent by the Prime Minister’s Mansion performed their duty of “surveillance” impeccably.
When Xie Jing was in the mansion, they behaved like the most dutiful servants in any household; quiet, diligent, and answering at every call; but the moment he stepped beyond the gate, they trailed him like vultures scenting death, still silent, never restricting his movements, yet shadowing him wherever he went.
Xie Jing also disdained creating trouble for himself by avoiding suspicion. When he went out, it was either to court or to the Prime Minister’s Mansion, and on the occasional social engagement, members of the Wang family were usually present.
But today, he probably had to make an exception.
He stood up and brushed the dust from his clothes before stepping out of the courtyard. Two young servants immediately appeared from nowhere, shadowing him like ghosts. He paid them no mind, merely gave calm instructions to “prepare the carriage.” By the time he reached the main gate, the carriage and horse were already waiting at the steps.
The maid by the carriage offered him a light hand as he entered the compartment, and the coachman respectfully asked for instructions: “Where is the Master going?”
A moment of silence in the carriage: “Star-Plucking Tower.”
The coachman answered at once, and the two young servants settled on either side at the front of the carriage. Neither showed the slightest change in expression as they urged the horses forward and set off.
Xie Jing’s face was certainly not unfamiliar in the capital. No matter where he appeared, he could easily cause a commotion and whispers, let alone in a mixed place like Star-Plucking Tower.
This was precisely what he was betting on: that observers would discuss it for a while, revealing his whereabouts to the person he wanted to find but couldn’t, prompting that person to come to him.
The madam of Star-Plucking Tower had been replaced countless times, but the current one seemed to have had some past acquaintance with Yin Chou. Seeing Xie Jing, she didn’t speak unnecessarily but directly led him to the finest room on the top floor and asked him to wait.
The two young servants followed Xie Jing all the way into the room while maintaining a humble, deferential appearance as if awaiting instructions, but in reality, their feet were nailed to the floor without moving half a step. Xie Jing acted as if he didn’t notice, stood with his back to them, and began to undress.
As the weather grew warmer, his clothing was thin. Before long, he had taken off all but his final layer of undergarment. Xie Jing’s movements showed no hesitation. In an instant, his snow-white shoulders and back were exposed, though his long hair covered them, obscuring the contours.
His hand dropped to his belt and paused. He slightly turned his head back: “Do you intend to watch me conduct my business as well?”
The air behind him grew somewhat still, yet there was no movement. Xie Jing decisively pulled his belt loose with a whoosh sound and finally heard the shuffling of footsteps.
The two young servants retreated outside the room before gently pushing the door shut, but their footsteps immediately stopped. It seemed their maximum concession was only a wall’s separation.
Xie Jing sighed with a touch of weariness, bent down to pick up the clothes scattered on the floor, slowly and methodically put them back on one by one, and walked around the painted screen to sit down.
In just a moment, he heard the door being pushed open again, and a chirping, bird-like female voice entered his ear: “Long time no see. I haven’t yet congratulated Lord Xie on your promotion recently.”
Xiao Yao entered holding a pipa, sat down, and first strummed three rounds of strings. Her expression betrayed no surprise; amid the flowing music, she spoke to him in a low voice, half a whisper, half silently formed on her lips: “I knew you would come looking for me.”
Xie Jing simply remained silent while humming along with the music and singing loosely, using his finger dipped in tea to write on the table, “What is Lu Zifeng hiding from me?”
It was true that the two had not seen each other for a long time, and he didn’t want to get straight to the point like this, but this was really not a good time for catching up. Since he couldn’t get Lu Lingcong to open up, he had to try a roundabout approach to save the situation and directly ask the Xuanshi’s superior. Since Xiao Yao spoke as she did, she must be perfectly clear about what the Xuanshi found, and she knew Lu Lingcong would not easily tell Xie Jing.
“Let me first tell you what the Xuanshi found,” Xiao Yao leaned closer and spoke. “The lists of spies the Prime Minister’s Mansion has planted into key positions, including the Yulin Guards, Finance Department, Salt and Iron Commission, officials of various counties and prefectures in the capital region, and governors of several border states, have been handed over to His Highness. Remaining are hundreds of private ledgers, mostly concerning properties under the Wang clan’s name, with the most concentrated in the east of Zhejiang and Langya, but they are all handled by the Wang clan’s own cashiers, so no abnormalities can be seen on the books.”
Xie Jing wrote again, “Are there any letters exchanged with the Northern Desert?”
Xiao Yao shook her head, “At the start of the year, Wang Chu reached out to one of his confidants; the Assistant of Yanmen Commandery, under the pretext of the Yongzhou campaign. His tone carried considerable hesitation and gave no indication of coordinating with the Northern Desert. The channel of communication with the enemy may belong to someone else.”
“What about the palace?”
Xiao Yao said, “Very little. I imagine they mostly talk face-to-face in the palace. But they found a handwritten note from the Empress Dowager, which contained eight characters—do not raise a cub tiger, for it will harm the world.”
Xie Jing was startled, revolving these eight characters in his mind, and couldn’t help but whisper, “This ‘cub tiger’ refers to the current Emperor.”
Xiao Yao nodded, “You must have already seen the undercurrents between His Majesty and the Prime Minister’s Mansion as well. However, if they truly start fighting, His Majesty is isolated and lacks sufficient power to truly contend with the Wang clan.”
Xie Jing’s expression solidified as he said, “For the Empress Dowager to say this… does she intend to leave His Majesty, this piece, in the box and not use him at all, or is she going to first let the black and white pieces fill the board and then discard him at the end of the game?”
Xiao Yao gave a faint smile, “That depends on whether the Wang clan or her son is more important in her heart. Since I’ve never been a mother, I naturally don’t understand.”
Xie Jing was still frowning in deep thought. Xiao Yao slowly continued: “The final item is what His Highness has been hiding from you.”
She tilted her head slightly to reveal a small portion of the coiled snake-shaped bun at the back of her head, causing her hairpins and ornaments to jingle, and she said, “Remove the low-set curled hairpin. Twist the head of it, and what’s hidden inside is what you’re looking for.”
Xie Jing did as she instructed and indeed twisted off the slender body of the hairpin. He then saw that it was hollow inside, concealing an extremely small scroll of paper.
Xiao Yao watched his movements and explained, “This describes the place where the late Emperor sealed the imperial edict. Aside from the Emperor himself, only Zhong Zhao knew of it. But after the former Emperor’s death three years ago, Zhong Zhao passed this information to the person who wrote this note, who then anonymously delivered it to the Prime Minister’s residence, which led to everything that happened later. As for the authenticity of the imperial edict announced to the world the next day and the contents and whereabouts of the old imperial edict, all are unknown today.”
“Didn’t Zhong Zhao eventually fall into Lu Zifeng’s hands? Couldn’t he question who the writer was?”
Xiao Yao sighed: “Zhong Zhao was not killed by His Highness. Or rather, before His Highness could act, someone had already preempted him, silencing Zhong Zhao right under his nose before he could even interrogate who the writer was.”
Xie Jing inverted the hairpin and tapped it against the table. The paper scroll slipped out slightly at the edge. He then asked, “Won’t Wang Chu discover it if we take it out?”
“A fake was made and put in its place immediately. Wang Chu wouldn’t take it out to look at it frequently as it’s something from three years ago.” Xiao Yao hesitated for a moment, “…My subordinate believed the original item had to be presented to you in person before any decision could be made.”
Upon hearing this, Xie Jing became even more bewildered. He used his fingernail to pinch the paper out, unfolded it, smoothed it, and looked closely, but suddenly his eyes widened as if struck by lightning.
He didn’t even care to understand the content of the writing; the visual shock alone froze him to the spot—
The handwriting on the paper was unmistakably his own, exactly the same, enough to be mistaken for the real thing.
