PCA Chapter 220

Coming out of Chen Ying’s house, the three had different expressions, each lost in thought as they walked slowly without speaking.

 

Zheng Yang was first to break the silence, wiping his hands with a handkerchief: “It really was that bastard Li Sheng trying to frame Uncle. Now with Chen Aniu as witness, we should be able to clear Uncle’s name, right?”

 

“A thumb ring doesn’t prove anything,” Su Cen shook his head. “Don’t forget, the Prince also has a pure black thumb ring.”

 

“What do you mean by that? Why are you turning your elbow outward?” Zheng Yang stopped walking. “Uncle couldn’t frame himself, could he?”

 

“Brother Su means we need to solidify the evidence,” Ning Santong mediated. “A thumb ring alone can’t convict Li Sheng. To bring him down, we need solid evidence of Li Sheng colluding with Chen Ying, right Brother Su?”

 

Su Cen nodded, but his doubts only increased. Logically, both Li Shi and Li Sheng had black jade thumb rings. With Li Shi being framed, Li Sheng was indeed the most suspicious. But the problem was it was too obvious—Li Sheng had clear motive, and now all evidence pointed to him. So why did he still let Su Cen investigate? What benefit would continued investigation bring him?

 

Zheng Yang was somewhat appeased and asked: “So what do we do next?”

 

Su Cen said: “I want to visit the Inner Palace Archives.”

 

“Inner Palace Archives?” Zheng Yang was puzzled. “What for?”

 

The so-called Inner Palace Archives was actually a repository that served to store books, collecting and organizing existing classics, histories, philosophical works, and literary collections, categorizing and integrating them for posterity. It also stored records—official biographies and palace personnel files were all recorded there for reference.

 

“We’ve all overlooked one issue. We’ve been investigating Chen Ying starting from the present. We assumed Li Sheng approached Chen Ying to frame the Prince, but from Chen Aniu’s testimony, Chen Ying and that person with the thumb ring should have known each other long ago. Is it possible that Chen Ying framing the Prince wasn’t a sudden idea but had been planned long ago?” Su Cen paused and continued: “Chen Ying entered the palace in the thirteenth year of Wude. The Yonglong palace coup hadn’t happened yet, and Crown Prince Chongde was still alive. Chen Ying served in the Yeqing Bureau, which was separated from the Eastern Palace by only Taiji Palace—they would have seen each other constantly. Is it possible Li Sheng already knew Chen Ying back then?”

 

“Right!” Zheng Yang slapped his hand. “It’s possible this Chen Ying also received some favor from Crown Prince Chongde, just like… just like…”

 

Ning Santong couldn’t help but smile bitterly: “Just like my grandfather back then.”

 

Zheng Yang was momentarily speechless, opening his mouth before finally saying quietly: “I didn’t mean it that way.”

 

“No matter,” Ning Santong smiled. “That’s indeed the truth. We acknowledge our mistakes.”

 

Su Cen continued the previous topic: “I want to see if I can find any clues to verify my theory.”

 

Zheng Yang nodded but frowned: “But the Inner Palace Archives records might not be detailed. Small favors might not be filed.”

 

Su Cen led the way: “We’ll know once we look.”

 

Near year’s end, all offices and departments were bustling with activity, but the Inner Palace Archives remained leisurely as always. The minor official on duty was dozing in the afternoon sun and didn’t notice when Zheng Yang’s group approached.

 

Only when Zheng Yang knocked on the desk did the minor official suddenly wake up. At first he showed displeasure at being disturbed, but upon seeing who it was, his expression instantly changed. He smiled obsequiously at Zheng Yang, bowing and scraping: “Young Master, what brings you here?”

 

Zheng Yang had no time to quibble with such a minor figure. After asking where the records from the Wude era were kept, he headed straight inside. The minor official eagerly led them to the appropriate location and waited nearby for a while. Seeing the three were busy with their own tasks and paid him no attention, he sheepishly returned to his nap.

 

Records from the Wude era were chaotic due to the early founding period, with many historical materials incomplete and others pieced together haphazardly, making them extremely troublesome to search through.

 

The three didn’t stand on ceremony, sitting on the floor with thick stacks of case files piled beside each person. For a while the room was exceptionally quiet, with only the rustling sound of turning pages.

 

After reading for a while, Ning Santong suddenly looked up and sniffed around. Finding nothing, he lowered his head to continue reading, but soon repeated the action.

 

“What are you doing?” Zheng Yang couldn’t help but laugh.

 

Ning Santong smiled: “You don’t know—our Brother Su here has fire-starting properties. Wherever he goes, things burn. Previously when I followed Brother Su to the Ministry of Rites storehouse to find examination papers, we ended up burning down their storehouse. So I have to stay alert—we can’t have another incident this time.”

 

“You knew all along, didn’t you?” Su Cen said without looking up as he turned another page. “With that dog nose of yours, not even a trace of white phosphorus could escape detection. Feng Yiming placed such a large amount there—how could you not know?”

 

Ning Santong rubbed his nose and smiled: “That’s why I warned you early on. I had you run before the fire started. Otherwise, with how easily that storehouse burned, could you have escaped?”

 

“What storehouse? What white phosphorus?” Zheng Yang frowned at the two. “And what about Brother Feng?”

 

Su Cen and Ning Santong exchanged glances, then both fell silent simultaneously.

 

It had been barely a year since that day, yet Feng Yiming was already gone.

 

Back then, Feng Yiming had tried to prevent Su Cen from investigating Tian Pingzhi’s case, probably knowing that investigating it to the end would inevitably implicate Li Shi. He had abandoned his principles and done so much for Li Shi, yet met such an end.

 

The room fell quiet again for a moment.

 

“Found it,” Ning Santong suddenly said.

 

Su Cen looked up, Zheng Yang leaned over, and they saw Ning Santong push the book forward: “Chen Ying’s biography.”

 

Su Cen took the book and examined it carefully. As Zheng Yang had said, it mostly recorded brief summaries of major events—which year he served where, what merits or faults he had—basically things they already knew.

 

“Where is Qinghua Palace?” Su Cen suddenly looked up and asked.

 

“Qinghua Palace?” Ning Santong repeated. “I’m not familiar with the imperial palace. Is there such a place?”

 

“It says here that Chen Ying once served at Qinghua Palace for half a year, during the summer of the second year of Yonglong. He was transferred to the Inner Attendants Ministry when winter came.”

 

“The second year of Yonglong?” Ning Santong said. “But the palace coup had already happened by then, and Crown Prince Chongde was already dead.”

 

Su Cen nodded lightly: “I just find this place unfamiliar, somewhat odd.”

 

“Qinghua Palace? How could it be Qinghua Palace?” Zheng Yang snatched the book away, confirmed it repeatedly, then let his hands drop, murmuring: “How could it be Qinghua Palace?”

 

Su Cen asked: “What about Qinghua Palace?”

 

“Qinghua Palace isn’t in the main palace complex—it’s at the Lishan Mountain retreat, famous for its numerous hot springs. It’s always been used as a place for imperial recreation and recuperation.” Zheng Yang pressed his lips together. “Back then, Consort Rong was in poor health and was sent to Qinghua Palace to recuperate for half a year, exactly during the second year of Yonglong. She died not long after returning.”

 

Ning Santong asked: “Who is Consort Rong?”

 

Zheng Yang bit his lip lightly: “Consort Rong was a concubine who had already entered the residence when Emperor Taizong was still a prince. She bore Emperor Taizong one son and one daughter—Princess Taining, who is my mother, and another who is…”

 

Su Cen’s gaze gradually darkened: “The Prince.”

 

When Su Cen returned to Xingqing Palace, it was already dark. Following the lamplight, he saw Li Shi reclining against the couch with a leisure book in hand, clearly waiting for him.

 

Su Cen consciously removed his shoes and climbed onto the couch, lying in Li Shi’s embrace without moving.

 

“Have you eaten?” Li Shi asked.

 

“Mm,” Su Cen responded somewhat listlessly, then after a while forced himself to add: “I ate with Zheng Yang and Ning San.”

 

Li Shi held his book with one hand while slowly combing through Su Cen’s long black hair with the other, asking: “Investigation not going well?”

 

“It’s going well,” Su Cen pressed his lips together. “Quite well.”

 

Li Shi didn’t continue questioning, just nodded: “That’s good then.”

 

Listening to Li Shi’s quiet page-turning, the restlessness accumulated from a day of rushing about suddenly settled. Li Shi often said Su Cen was his calming incense, but wasn’t Li Shi the same for him? No matter how long he wandered outside or what storms he weathered, returning here brought windless, rainless calm with clearing skies.

 

“Do you remember Chen Ying?” Su Cen looked up and asked.

 

Li Shi’s gaze remained on his book as he asked absently: “Who is Chen Ying?”

 

Su Cen grabbed Li Shi’s neck and sat up, straddling him and positioning himself between Li Shi and the book. Then, holding Li Shi’s neck, he looked down and asked: “You tell me who Chen Ying is. Answer properly—no brushing me off.”

 

Prince Ning was clever his whole life—he couldn’t possibly not know who had brought him down. Even if he truly didn’t know before, he should know now.

 

“Lord Su has such official authority,” Li Shi smiled, setting down his book. That hand naturally settled on Su Cen’s lower back. “And such a fine figure.”

 

“Be serious!” Su Cen frowned and pulled that restless hand to the front, interlacing their fingers against his chest, pretending to be stern: “No changing the subject, or else… or else severe punishment awaits!”

 

“Oh?” Li Shi’s lips curved in a smile as his gaze slowly traveled downward. “What severe punishment?”

 

Su Cen felt his face heat up under Li Shi’s gaze. He cleared his throat and asked: “Speak up, do you remember Chen Ying or not?”

 

Li Shi withdrew his gaze and nodded lightly: “I’ve seen him a few times in the palace.”

 

Li Shi had answered, but Su Cen’s breathing became somewhat irregular. He knelt before Li Shi, with burning heat beneath him. Looking down, he saw Li Shi’s slightly upturned lips. Before he knew it, he had leaned down to capture them in a tangle.

 

When the kiss ended, Su Cen’s breathing was slightly hurried. He forced himself to remain composed: “Good answer. A small reward to encourage you.”

 

Li Shi licked the corner of his lips with lingering desire: “Then I shall certainly speak without reservation.”

 

“What do you think of Chen Ying as a person?” Su Cen continued asking. “Is he the type of petty person who’s greedy for small money and minor benefits?”

 

“I didn’t have much contact with him,” Li Shi thought back, “but on the surface he seemed like an honest, dutiful person.”

 

“I went to see the house he bought today. His family was poor, with nothing valuable at home. He spent his whole life in the palace—even if he had brought out a few things, his home wouldn’t be in such a state. So I also think he’s not someone who covets petty gains.” Su Cen pondered as he spoke. “If it’s not for profit and he wasn’t coerced, could it really be an old grudge? Zheng Yang and I discovered today that Chen Ying once served at Qinghua Palace. Do you have any memory of that?”

 

After waiting a long while without getting a response, Su Cen looked over puzzledly. After staring at Li Shi for some time, he realized what the problem was. Helplessly, he leaned down again to peck lightly at Li Shi’s lips like a dragonfly touching water, saying irritably: “Speak quickly.”

 

Instead of answering, Li Shi asked: “Do you remember the name of the person responsible for sweeping your family’s courtyard when you were eight?”

 

“I actually do remember,” Su Cen smiled slyly. “That person was a mute my father picked up from the roadside. Everyone called him Mute Sun. I remember him because I was mischievous as a child and often skipped lessons with my elder brother to play. We’d choose places where the mute was responsible because he couldn’t tell on us, and no one would know when we left.”

 

Li Shi smiled, then returned to seriousness after laughing: “I don’t remember.”

 

Su Cen: “…”

 

Sooner or later, his own prince would anger him to death.

 

Li Shi patiently explained: “When Mother Consort was sent to Qinghua Palace for recuperation, her condition was already very serious. I had already been assigned to Consort Cao’s care at that time, so I wasn’t clear about what happened at Qinghua Palace.”

 

After hearing this, Su Cen felt melancholy. During the age of enlightenment, he had parents who doted on him and an elder brother who spoiled him. His daily activities consisted of jumping around and defying his tutor. But Li Shi had already lost his mother’s protection and was dependent on others, navigating carefully in this man-eating palace.

 

Feeling sympathetic, he wanted to lean down to comfort Li Shi, but before he could, he was suddenly embraced around the waist and flipped onto the couch.

 

“Scratching an itch through a boot is too painful,” the cool thumb ring traced lightly across Su Cen’s face, then past his Adam’s apple and slowly downward. “Let’s proceed with severe punishment instead.”

 

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