As the saying goes, “What the superior desires, the inferior will intensely pursue.” Xie Jing was the top scholar in the three imperial examinations and the respected, noble Princess Consort Zhao and mother of the Imperial Grandson. Beyond that, innumerable people copied his calligraphy in an effort to refine their own style. Even though his authentic manuscripts, though of immense value, were not so scarce as to be unseen, a genuine piece would still appear on the market now and then.
But when it came to assessing how closely it matched, no one was better suited than Xie Jing himself. Earlier, when he first saw Lu Shuqing’s letters, though he was briefly taken aback, he immediately discerned the difference in the brushwork’s underlying intent.
The terrifying thing about the note in front of him lay precisely here—he could not observe any minute detail that proved this was not his handwriting.
But Xie Jing was also absolutely certain that he had never written such a note.
During the late emperor’s final moments, he had deliberately stayed away from the imperial presence to avoid suspicion, let alone know where the imperial edict was hidden.
Xie Jing found it utterly absurd and laughable. Did he not know clearly himself what he had and had not done, what he knew and what he did not?
The forger had not merely practiced his script over and over, nor had they pieced the line together from phrases Xie Jing had truly written. Instead, they had fully absorbed that impeccable style and made it their own. Frankly, if this person were still alive and wrote it now, the result would be so convincing that even Xie Jing himself would be unable to tell the real from the fake.
Xie Jing silently and slowly straightened out the thread of logic: This person had a connection with Zhong Zhao, which allowed them to know the place where the imperial edict was stored; this person had the opportunity to access a large number of his genuine manuscripts, rather than copying imitations found on the market; this person was highly skilled in literature and art with profound achievements in calligraphy and painting.
Many possibilities flashed through his mind, such as former subordinates of the Department of State Affair, colleagues in the Hanlin Academy, officials planted by the Wang family in various departments, a few noble sons who had served as companions in Linhai Hall, the former empress who was now the empress dowager… and even Lu Lingzhang himself.
Is it possible? Perhaps Lu Lingzhang satisfies the above conditions.
But the most fundamental purpose of this person forging the handwriting was nothing more than to conceal their identity to secretly reveal the location of the imperial edict to the Wang family without implicating themselves.
If it were Lu Lingzhang, the empress dowager, or an adherent of the Wang clan, what would be the necessity of concealment? Why go to all this extra trouble?
Linking this with what Xiao Yao had just said, that the spies planted within the Northern Desert army might not belong to the Wang family but to someone else, Xie Jing pressed his temples. He had always vaguely known that the Wang clan might not be the only party instigating trouble during these years of turmoil and change, but he never imagined that the hidden third-party force, subtle yet traceable, lurking beneath the surface, was so close to him.
This was perhaps the reason why Lu Lingcong had received the information but had delayed in telling him.
Seeing the gravity of his expression, Xiao Yao felt a trace of sympathy and gently reassured him: “His Highness has held back from speaking partly out of concern for the Princess Consort’s heavy worries, not wishing to place any further burden upon you.”
Xie Jing composed himself, returned the note to the hairpin, set it back in place, and slipped it into his sleeve. Lifting his gaze, he noticed Xiao Yao’s hesitant expression and asked, “Is there anything else, Miss Xiao?”
Xiao Yao parted her lips, yet in the end swallowed the words she had meant to say: “There is indeed a matter, but there will be ample time later. Princess Consort must be tired from thinking now. I will tell the Princess Consort when the time is right.”
Xie Jing nodded and did not press further, only saying, “Thank you for your trouble, Miss Xiao.”
Xiao Yao ceased playing, rose to her feet, and said, “If the Princess Consort wishes to spend some time alone, I will have someone bring up wine, and you may rest here for the night.”
She raised her voice to order the wine, exchanged a brief bow with Xie Jing, then turned and left through the concealed door in the inner chamber, crossing over to the adjacent room; leaving Xie Jing alone.
Before long, a waiter brought the wine. Xie Jing glanced through the screen and saw the two servants who had followed him were still diligently guarding the door. He ignored them and went to retrieve the wine jar himself.
A glance at the mud seal left him stunned once more. What Xiao Yao had sent was unmistakably Meishan Snow liquor, bearing the seal of Prince Zhao’s Mansion. As the jar opened, a faint, intoxicating fragrance slowly drifted out.
Xie Jing reached out and lightly brushed his fingertip over the small square paper knot affixed to the jar’s side; its red ground inlaid with gold patterns and a plum blossom branch motif.
That was in the first month of Zhengyou’s seventeenth year, just before the New Year. Xie Jing remembered clearly that Uncle Zhou had purchased New Year goods and laid out a table of them in the hall for him to choose from. He glanced at the new patterned paper, thinking it looked festive and pleasing, he took a few sheets back to his room. He called the children to sit around the stove and taught them to fold square paper knots.
The first month in Prince Zhao’s Mansion coincided with the New Year festivities, the anniversary of Lu Lingcong’s marriage, and Lu Shuning’s birthday; all clustered closely together, making it traditionally the most bustling and celebratory period of the year.
Consequently, they folded a huge basket full of red, festive paper knots. With no place to put the excess, they simply stuck them onto the jars of Meishan Snow Liquor that hadn’t been buried yet.
This kind of wine with the paper knots stuck on was kept for the household’s own consumption and not gifted to outsiders. Its presence here, and the fact that Xiao Yao had personally delivered it made it clear that Lu Lingcong must have anticipated Xie Jing would eventually come to her with questions and had prepared it in advance, entrusting her to pass it along; simply to ease the gloom in his heart.
Xie Jing stared at it for a long while without moving. The person he could not see, the tangled hatred he could not untie, and the ancestral residence he no longer dared to set foot in; all of it surged up before his eyes at once. A thread of melancholy tightened in his chest, entwined with helplessness, and even a single sip of wine became something he could not bring himself to swallow.
Later, when his eyelids finally grew heavy and he staggered back onto the bed, his mind was still lucid. Yet through the night he was relentlessly tormented, past events seeping into his dreams again and again, leaving his brow tightly furrowed even in sleep.
At the first faint light of dawn, he jolted awake drenched in cold sweat, his head throbbing as if it would split open, momentarily disoriented and unsure of the day. Seeing the ornate canopy above, he almost thought he had returned to his frivolous and reckless sixteen-year-old self.
Half a month later, at Jade Terrace in the west of the city.
The banquet was already halfway through. One half of the guests still lingered over the cold remains of the feast, noisily engaged in finger-guessing games, while the other half; faces flushed with drink, were stumbling and jostling their way downstairs, heading off in search of other places of revelry and indulgence.
Xie Jing was following at a moderate distance behind the tail end of the descending crowd, accompanied by several colleagues affiliated with the Wang clan.
His “good reputation” of having spent the night at Star-Plucking Tower a few days ago had naturally spread. This didn’t require the two young servants to make any effort talking; everyone who saw his face that day was informed, and there was nothing left to hide.
Consequently, he was naturally subjected to a certain amount of teasing at the banquet. Xie Jing was noncommittal as he accepted everything and did not argue whether he truly had a lover in the pleasure house. Instead, he adapted to all the obscenity and chaos of the environment. He refused no one who urged him to drink and was eloquent, charming, and highly adept at social maneuvering, every move perfectly practiced.
Today was the birthday celebration of the former Minister of Court of Judicial Review, who had already retired, and many court officials were present. Among those invited who were considered “one of their own” with Xie Jing was Li Qi.
The Li family was overtly a firm and unwavering faction of Prince Zhao. Li Qi himself had previously held a high position in the Tiger Division army. Ordinarily, he should have detested Xie Jing purely by association, making any open interaction between them inconvenient and inappropriate.
Xie Jing noticed that Li Qi was accompanied by a boy of seventeen or eighteen a moment ago and, after taking a few extra careful glances, recognized him as Li Qi’s nephew.
Li Qi’s brother-in-law, Zheng Xiao, had married into the Li family. He relied on his wife’s family’s financial support to succeed in the imperial examinations and only later attained an official position. His twin children both bore their mother’s surname.
Xie Jing was also familiar with this youth. Due to the relationship between Prince Zhao’s Mansion and the Xie family, he was very close friends with Xie Jun, along with a few other similarly aged boys from the Wu and Lin families. During those years, Lu Shuqing, who always followed them like a little tail calling them “brother,” also played with them.
And his twin sister—if Xie Jing remembered correctly, had almost reached the point of discussing marriage with Xie Jun that year.
But before it could happen, the Xie family suffered misfortune. Although nine generations were not executed, the clans who had marriage ties with the main or collateral branches of the Xie’s Mansion were almost all affected, to varying degrees, such as his sister-in-law’s maternal family, the Yao clan of Wuxing, who bore the brunt of it.
Assessing the situation, the Li family naturally dared not mention a single word about this marriage arrangement that was originally in the making.
However, there was no need to bring it up again. Xie Jun was already gone.
Just as they reached the ground floor and were about to step out the main gate, Xie Jing clapped his hands and excused himself, saying he had forgotten something and needed to go up again, telling the others to go ahead and not worry about him.
A busybody asked what important matter he had forgotten. Xie Jing didn’t evade the question either, curled his lips into a smile, and said that the child playing the konghou at the banquet was extremely eye-catching, and there was no sense in letting something slip away once it was within grasp, so he needed to go back and inquire carefully about their name and origin.
The few people then laughed knowingly, left him behind, and went on their way to their respective carriages, surrounded by attendants.
Xie Jing deliberately kept himself concealing within the crowd of mingling figures by making sure that the Xie’s Mansion coachman waiting across the street would not spot him. After retreating a couple of steps, he turned and leisurely made his way back upstairs.
However, he did not return to the banquet hall but went up two more flights before stopping at the entrance to the top floor.
Separated by a string curtain, a gauze screen, and two layers of drapery, the person seated inside could not make out his features clearly, only a faint silhouette. A trace of uncertainty crept into the voice as they asked, “…Second Miss Cui?”
At the sound of that voice, Xie Jing let out a soft laugh and replied without hesitation, “I’m not Second Miss Cui, but Second Miss Xie.”
The person inside paused for a moment, then also laughed, saying, “If that’s the case, then I must trouble Second Miss Xie to be seated outside; after all, you are unmarried and I am unwed. We must observe propriety; it is inconvenient to meet face-to-face.”
As he spoke, Xie Jing had already parted the drapery and walked in with graceful ease and saw Lu Lingcong leaning back on the couch. Seeing him approach, Lu Lingcong straightened up, made some space for him, and then said:
“I knew you had social obligations downstairs today, but I didn’t expect you to come up.”
Xie Jing unceremoniously kicked off his boots and drew himself onto the couch. He looked around but couldn’t find a cushion; the only soft pad was being used by Lu Lingcong, so he simply lay down directly while resting his head on Lu Lingcong’s lap.
As he adjusted himself into a comfortable position, he said, “Madam Cui told me there’s personnel movement within the Yulin Guards and that I should use this opportunity to inform you.”
Cui Shushi, who was acting on the emperor’s command to arrange Prince Zhao’s marriage, had to attend to both sides. Coupled with the fact that there was indeed serious business to discuss, she chose this day and location, bringing a young lady from her own clan for Lu Lingcong to “check out,” and thus set up these numerous barriers, genuinely observing the strict separation between men and women.
“It is said that the match she is making for you is her niece from her maternal family, so I suppose it is this Second Miss Cui? This is someone you would marry back to the Prince’s Mansion to be a stepmother to my son and daughter. Her talent, temperament, and appearance must all be first-rate.”
Lu Lingcong ignored his intentional teasing, merely smiling and saying, “The children’s own mother is right here; what of his talents, temperament, or appearance is not first-rate? Why would I pass over the one before me and take the roundabout path of finding them a stepmother? I only fear that their mother now lives so freely and independently that he may not agree to me.”
He rested his fingers on the hair behind Xie Jing’s ear, stroking down a lock, and landed on the section of skin on his neck exposed outside his collar. Xie Jing’s attire was a daring interplay of colors: an autumn-cinnamon lining beneath a pale bluish-white inner garment, all wrapped in an outer robe of vivid cobalt blue. The fabric was semi-transparent, revealing the embroidered round patterns with gathered gold thread underneath, truly making him look like a gorgeous peacock lounging lazily on his lap.
Xie Jing silently surveyed the surrounding furnishings. Although Lu Lingcong’s comment that “it is inconvenient to meet face-to-face” had been a joke; before their marriage more than decade ago, when strict separation was truly required, they had indeed met in secret here. It was on that very occasion that he had received a “gift”: the dagger Flying Light.
Even now, he still did not know what the final form of the “Six Forms of Flying Light” was something Lu Lingcong had never revealed to him. The furnishings and decorations in the inner room had long been replaced, and Jade Terrace had changed its appearance, but the people were still the same old ones.
“I have seen Xiao Yao,” Xie Jing finally spoke, “but you should already know that.”
Lu Lingcong murmured, “En,” knowing that his ability to speak about it meant he had slowly processed his emotions. He merely said, “Zhong Zhao is dead, and the one who delivered the note remains hidden, so we can set that aside for now. But the Wang family’s involvement in what happened that year is now beyond doubt. You said the first step was to confirm it; now that it’s confirmed, what comes next?”
Xie Jing blinked slowly, his mind drifting for a moment, before he said, ““In recent years, the Wang family’s prestige has soared, their influence unmatched. The first to feel the pressure were the wealthy, powerful clans who had migrated from Jiangnan. The old aristocratic houses watched as a single family rose to dominance, and before they could even concern themselves with where the Emperor stood, their own lands and estates had already been encroached upon time and again. It is only natural that they harbor deep resentment.”
He paused and then added, “Then there are the nouveaux riches like the Li family and the Wu family, who made their fortunes through commerce. Even if they have members serving as officials in court, their positions are low and their voices carry little weight. Most of them are also on good terms with you, Prince Zhao; an eyesore to those in power. They are not only tightly suppressed by the great aristocratic clans, but the silver they spend so freely to grease palms is still scorned as ‘lowly.’ They possess wealth without power, their resources and influence utterly mismatched, and their desire to change this situation is all the more pressing.”
“And finally, the most fundamental one,” he pointed downward with his hand, “is the common people. Water can support a boat, but it can also overturn it. Wang Chu is extremely clever; he long understood this point. Therefore, he did not amass wealth at the expense of the populace. Even if he did, it wasn’t enough to provoke public outrage either. Using the common people as chess pieces to manipulate power is the hardest balance to maintain. Once popular resentment boils over, the boat that is overturned will be more than just the Wang family; it will be the foundation of your Great Qi.”
Lu Lingcong nodded in agreement and then said, “The old aristocratic clans, the nouveaux riches, and the common people are only three pieces. To ‘checkmate’ the Wang clan, one more piece is still missing.”
Xie Jing nodded softly and murmured in an extremely low voice, “The Northern Desert.”
Lu Lingcong was silent for a moment. He was about to tell Xie Jing about Lu Lingzhen’s plan to propose marriage for peace, but when he looked down, he found that Xie Jing had quietly fallen asleep.
He watched him for a while, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. He leaned down and lifted Xie Jing up from under his ribs to let him sleep nestled against his chest.
After the time it took to drink a few cups of tea, Lu Lingcong suddenly heard a short, sharp scream beside him. He instinctively reached for the dagger behind his waist, turned his head toward the source of the sound, and saw a girl of fourteen or fifteen covering her mouth in panic standing by the door while staring at the two of them and was completely at a loss.
Lu Lingcong hesitated for a moment, “…Second Miss Cui?”
The girl nodded slowly before awkwardly turned away, and stammered, unable to speak. Seeing that the pretense he had maintained was now laid bare, making matters all the more awkward, Lu Lingcong chose to speak plainly in explanation:
“I apologize for the offense, but as you can see… wait, you don’t know him. Let me introduce him; this is Princess Consort Zhao. Although he was deposed and has no official title, he was, is, and will always be Princess Consort Zhao, so…”
After saying that, he couldn’t help but frown and add, “Besides, my son is already nearly as old as you are. What was Madam Cui thinking?”
The genuine “Second Miss Cui” nodded like a chick pecking at rice: “I know, I know. My aunt told me that the ‘meeting’ was just a cover and that she has serious business to discuss with Your Highness today. It’s just that she told me to come upstairs first, and since I’ve never been here, I got lost and entered the wrong room. I have truly been disrespectful by intruding upon Your Highness and the Princess Consort.”
Lu Lingcong did not believe her explanation. He highly suspected that Cui Shushi had guessed that he and Xie Jing would seize this opportunity to meet and deliberately pointed her niece in the wrong direction to sound an alarm first, saving them all from embarrassment later.
He could only gesture that it was fine and asked the young girl to sit behind the string curtain for a moment, silently wishing for Madam Cui to hurry up. At a loss, he suddenly heard a low, muffled chuckle against his chest and realized that Xie Jing had woken at some point, eyes half-lidded with sleep, gazing up at him with a hint of sly amusement.
Lu Lingcong was about to lower his voice to scold him, but Xie Jing gave him no chance. He tilted his head back, kissed him once on the chin, and after kissing him, buried his face and went back to feigning sleep as if everything was perfectly fine.
