Chapter 82
Proofreader: Mim
On the third day after the Qixi Palace Banquet, an imperial edict was posted on all the public notice boards across the capital. It stripped Prince Jing of his title, demoted him to the status of a commoner, and confined him to the Imperial Clan Court for the rest of his life.
At the same time, a verbal decree was issued elevating the grieving Consort Lu, who had lost her child, to the rank of Zhaoyi, a second-rank consort. She was moved to the Changqiu Hall, a residence adjacent to Ziwei Palace.
In the span of just one year, the tides of the capital had shifted dramatically.
Prince Jing’s sudden downfall shocked the imperial court, leaving some joyful and others mourning.
Prince Feng’s faction celebrated unabashedly, holding nightly revelries while the remnants of Prince Jing’s camp endured their misfortune in despair.
Late at night, under the silver glow of the moon, a discreet yet elegantly decorated carriage stopped quietly in front of the Li Manor.
Reeking of alcohol, Xie Lanxu, stumbled out of the carriage with the help of Li Xiangsheng, who supported him as they staggered toward the entrance.
By the time the news reached Li Zhi, she had already retired to bed. Upon hearing the servant’s report, she hurriedly rose, threw on a robe, and rushed to the courtyard to meet the two men, whose drunken state was evident even from afar.
Xie Lanxu’s cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were unfocused as he leaned heavily on Li Xiangsheng for support. In contrast, Li Xiangsheng, though also smelling of alcohol, appeared relatively clear-headed.
Li Zhi quickly stepped forward to help steady Xie Lanxu, looking at Li Xiangsheng in surprise.
“How did he end up like this?”
“Prince Feng’s faction was celebrating at Huixue Pavilion, and His Highness drank too much. He got into an argument with the faction leader… the details will have to wait until he sobers up tomorrow,” Li Xiangsheng explained helplessly. “I was going to escort His Highness back to the Prince’s Manor, but he insisted on coming here to see you.”
“I see. Thank you,” Li Zhi said, nodding. “You should get some rest now. I’ll take care of him.”
After handing Xie Lanxu over to Li Zhi, Li Xiangsheng departed for the southern wing of the manor.
Li Zhi guided the drunken Xie Lanxu into the house and helped him settle onto the bed. She then turned back to close the door.
When she turned around again, Xie Lanxu was already seated at the wooden table. His gaze was sharp and clear, his demeanor calm and unhurried, as if he were in his own home. Apart from his flushed cheeks, there was no trace of drunkenness on him.
Li Zhi stared at him in astonishment, stunned by his flawless performance. After a moment of silence, she walked over to him.
“You’re not drunk?”
Xie Lanxu casually poured himself a cup of cold tea and said slowly, “What do you think?”
“Then why did you pretend to be drunk?”
“If I didn’t pretend, how else could I ‘spill the truth’ and extract myself from Prince Feng’s faction?”
Li Zhi fell silent for a moment, then asked, “Is the next target Prince Feng?”
“And if it is?” Xie Lanxu replied indifferently. “Are you afraid to take on the Emperor’s favorite son?”
“…As long as you’re here, I’m not afraid.”
Xie Lanxu looked at her quietly, saying nothing for a long time. Finally, he took her hand and said softly, “Won’t you let me stay?”
“…”
That night, Xie Lanxu stayed at the Li Manor.
The two lay side by side on the same bed, with Xie Lanxu’s arm serving as a pillow beneath her head. Their eyes met in the stillness, neither speaking, as the tranquil summer night enveloped them.
Looking at his face, so close to hers, and breathing in the faint, fresh scent of water lingering on his skin after his bath, an unfamiliar sense of peace crept into Li Zhi’s heart. It was a feeling she hadn’t experienced in a long time, one that arose unbidden and beyond her control.
“Not going to sleep?” Xie Lanxu asked softly, noticing her wide-open eyes.
“I can’t fall asleep,” Li Zhi admitted.
“Should I sing to you?”
“Can you even sing?”
“No.”
Li Zhi was rendered speechless and blurted out, “…Then why are you speaking nonsense?”
Surprisingly, Xie Lanxu laughed.
It wasn’t his usual faint, ethereal smile, the kind that made him seem untouchable, like a dewdrop on a pearl. This was a real laugh—a boyish, mischievous grin, like that of an eighteen-year-old who had just successfully played a prank.
Li Zhi belatedly realized she’d let her carefully crafted mask of composure slip, and quickly tried to recover. “Tell me a story, Ah-Li.”
“A story?”
“Yes, about when you were young.”
“When I was young?” Xie Lanxu asked, raising a brow. “Why do you want to hear that?”
The light summer quilt covered them both, its pattern depicting vivid koi fish swimming among pink lotus blossoms.
Li Zhi wrapped her arms around his waist and tilted her face up to rest on his shoulder.
“…I want to know everything about you, Ah-Li. I don’t just want to be part of your present and future. I also want to know what you were like before we met. Everything about you—I want to know it all.”
Li Zhi tilted her head slightly, pretending to be puzzled.
“Ah-Li, don’t you think the same way?”
Under her gaze, Xie Lanxu wavered.
It seemed as though he remembered something, and the soft, gentle expression in his eyes vanished like water evaporating under the sun. He turned away, facing the bed’s wooden beams, his pitch-black eyes staring into empty space.
“My childhood… doesn’t have anything pleasant to recount,” he said quietly. “Do you still want to hear about it?”
“If it’s about you, I want to hear it,” Li Zhi said firmly.
After a long silence, Xie Lanxu began to speak.
“They discovered I couldn’t feel pain when I was about one year old,” he said. “My nursemaid had only stepped away for a moment. When she returned, I had nearly bitten off my own tongue. The entire bed was soaked in my blood… but I was still smiling.”
Xie Lanxu’s voice was calm and detached, as though recounting someone else’s story.
“When I got older and started running and jumping, I would often fracture bones without realizing it. My mother hired a physician from the common folk to examine me daily and set my bones back in place.”
“After I was born, Great Yan was plagued by natural disasters—droughts in the east, floods in the west. My father, swayed by the shamans, believed I was possessed by an evil spirit and the source of these calamities. He ordered the construction of a pavilion in the middle of a lake within the Eastern Palace and confined me there. My mother, worried for me, petitioned my father and voluntarily moved into the pavilion to stay by my side.”
“From then on, my lessons weren’t the Four Books and Five Classics but endless exorcism rituals. Masters from all kinds of sects were secretly invited to the pavilion to purge the ‘evil spirit’ in me. The tattoos on my body were made during that time.”
“Ah-Li…”
“Though I couldn’t feel pain, I remember—” Xie Lanxu continued, as if he hadn’t heard her voice. “I remember the suffocating sensation of being held underwater. I remember the taste of the dog’s blood they forced me to drink. I remember shamans, their faces painted with oil and ash, drumming and wailing around me as I teetered on the brink of death.”
Li Zhi moved closer and grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers.
“Ah-Li, those days are behind you. No one will hurt you anymore.”
“Yes…” Xie Lanxu’s voice was low and hollow. “Those days are gone forever.”
“In a way, it’s fortunate the Crown Princess stayed by your side,” Li Zhi said gently, seizing the opportunity to probe further. “Speaking of which, I’ve never learned the reason for the Crown Princess’s passing. I’ve only heard it said that she died of illness.”
“It’s not wrong to say that,” Xie Lanxu replied. “My mother died from despair turned to illness. Like my father, she spent years trying, in her own way, to make me a ‘normal’ person. But in the end, she failed. And so, she chose death.”
“She took her own life?”
Xie Lanxu tacitly confirmed it.
“Before she passed, she had already been bedridden for a long time. Her decision to end her life was likely to avoid being a burden to me.”
“She must have made the decision after much thought,” Li Zhi said softly.
“If it were you,” Xie Lanxu turned to her, his gaze landing on her face, “what would you have chosen?”
“…I don’t know,” Li Zhi admitted.
She wasn’t Crown Princess Wei. She would never know what Crown Princess Wei thought about Xie Songzhao, the man who was both her captor and the father of her son. Nor could she know whether Crown Princess Wei had willingly given birth to Xie Lanxu.
The woman was gone. What mattered now was what she left behind.
The vast treasure Crown Princess Wei must have left behind certainly wouldn’t be in the Eastern Palace, but Li Zhi believed the Eastern Palace might hold clues. And most likely, those clues would be in the lakeside pavilion where she had lived before her death.
“Ah-Li, since returning to the capital, have you considered paying your respects to the Crown Princess?” Li Zhi asked, subtly steering the conversation.
“I buried her beneath the willow tree outside the lakeside pavilion,” Xie Lanxu said. “If I were to pay my respects, it would have to wait until the Eastern Palace is reopened.”
“If you’re willing,” Li Zhi said, hugging him tightly, “on that day, I’ll go with you to pay respects to the Crown Princess.”
Xie Lanxu didn’t object.
“Since I was born, everything I’ve ever wanted, I’ve had to scheme and fight for,” he said quietly, holding her close without any ulterior motive. “Only you… only you came to me willingly, choosing to stay by my side.”
“Banban… you saved me,” Xie Lanxu whispered. Then he closed his eyes, as though he had said everything he wanted to say, and drifted peacefully into sleep.
Li Zhi, however, lay awake, restless.
The joy of drawing closer to the treasure was hollow, replaced by a growing sense of emptiness and confusion.
—
The next morning, when Li Zhi opened her eyes, Xie Lanxu was already dressed and seated at the desk in the study, reviewing official documents.
Seeing the sunlight streaming through the window, Li Zhi’s heart skipped a beat, and she hurried to get up and put on her shoes.
“Today is a day off,” Xie Lanxu said without looking up.
Li Zhi finally remembered it was a rest day. Realizing she wasn’t late, she breathed a sigh of relief.
She walked over to him and looked at the scattered documents on the desk, each written in a different hand.
“Ah-Li, what are you doing?”
“Matching handwriting,” Xie Lanxu replied, picking up a note that bore the phrase ‘The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind.’
“Do you remember this?” he asked.
“Of course,” Li Zhi said, startled.
“I feel like I’ve seen this handwriting somewhere before,” Xie Lanxu said.
Li Zhi immediately understood the purpose of his comparison.
“You suspect this person is in the imperial court?” she asked.
Xie Lanxu set the document aside. “Let’s eat first. After breakfast, we’ll compare the handwriting together.”
Li Zhi readily agreed.
After washing up and having a simple meal, the two sat by the window under the bright daylight, carefully comparing the handwriting on the note with that of various official documents.
Xie Lanxu had prepared extensively for this. The documents he had collected encompassed almost every minister in the court, resulting in a mountain of papers. By the afternoon, Li Zhi called for Li Cien and Li Xiangsheng to help.
The four divided the work, passing the note from person to person. Yet by the time the sun set, they had found no leads.
“Could it be that the informant isn’t a high-ranking official?” Li Cien wondered aloud. “Perhaps His Highness saw the handwriting on a case file from the Ministry of Justice.”
Xie Lanxu fell silent at this suggestion.
If Li Cien’s theory was correct, the scope of suspects would expand exponentially. The Ministry of Justice’s records included files from the capital and beyond, covering the entire empire. Searching through them would be like finding a needle in a haystack.
Li Zhi stared intently at the eight characters on the note. The more she looked at them, the more familiar they seemed.
“I feel like I’ve seen this handwriting somewhere before…”
The moment she spoke, Li Cien and Li Xiangsheng crowded around her, all three staring intently at the note again.
“Actually… I felt it looked familiar at first too,” Li Xiangsheng admitted. “But I thought it might just be my imagination, so I didn’t say anything.”
“You should have said something earlier!” Li Cien snapped, smacking his brother’s arm.
“I couldn’t remember where I’d seen it,” Li Xiangsheng said, scratching the back of his head.
Li Zhi furrowed her brows, her eyes fixed unblinkingly on the note.
She had seen this handwriting before.
But where?
Translator’s Note:- Hello all, sorry for the long long wait. 1) Thank you for you patience! The chapters just came from proofreading, so I will post regularly from now on. Schedule will be 5 chapters per week i.e I will upload them at once on saturday or sunday. As sadly this site doesn’t have schedule chapter thing.
2) I have completed the translation of this novel. If you want to read all the chapters in one go, you can purchase them on my Ko-fi page, Click Here (as some of my readers were asking if I had an advance chapter thing).
