In Yongzhou, Xie Jing developed the habit of being able to fall asleep instantly and wake up promptly. He only needed to cycle the time he needed to wake up through his mind a few times the night before, and he would definitely not miss it the next day.
Although he didn’t return to the Prince’s Mansion last night, he did stay in the secret chamber. Xie Jing woke up to find himself sleeping sideways while facing Lu Lingcong with his right hand bent and tucked under his neck as a pillow. He instantly panicked and pulled his forearm under the quilt to hide it.
Although the poisoned silk threads embedded beneath his skin were not obvious, the red dots at the ends of the threads were visible. Usually, they were hidden within the folds of his sleeves, but now they lay openly across the pillow. The contrast between those marks and the pale tone of his skin was far too obvious, and he worried that Lu Lingcong might grow suspiciously if he noticed them. Fortunately, the other party seemed not to have taken note. Xie Jing watched his sleeping face for a moment, then tugged the quilt up over his head before nestling further beneath it and inching forward until he was tucked against Lu Lingcong’s chest.
Lu Lingcong shifted and woke up.
“What do you want?” He asked sleepily as he placed his hand on Xie Jing’s back.
A muffled “I’m a bit cold” came from beneath the covers, so he lifted his arm to make space, allowing Xie Jing to snuggle his body even closer into his embrace, and explained, “It’s damp underground, and there’s been a lot of rain these days. The charcoal fire must be nearly out.”
Xie Jing tilted his head up slightly before pressing his cheek against the side of Lu Lingcong’s neck, where he could clearly feel the pulse of the artery. He slowly exhaled a warm breath onto that small patch of skin.
“Are you bathing here or going back? You’ll have to wait a while if we need to heat water.”
“I’ll go back. I always bathe in the morning. If I refuse without reason, it’s bound to arouse suspicion,” Xie Jing replied. “Moreover, the servant boy knocked promptly at Maoshi four quarters[mfn]Around 6:45 AM.[/mfn] without fail. If he can’t get an answer, he’ll just come straight in, and it would be hard to explain being soaking wet then.”
Lu Lingcong frowned, “Are they even watching you while you bathe?”
“They don’t ‘stare’ at me. They set up a gauze screen behind the bathtub and have a line of people standing there. As long as I bathe properly and don’t run around, everything is fine.”
“Is there truly no possibility of keeping a few trusted people of your own by your side?”
Xie Jing shook his head, “The Wang family sent everyone from the steward to the porters to me. The meaning is clear enough; it’s a warning for me to quiet down. So, I simply try to spend as little time at home as possible by constantly staying in his sight, lest he become suspicious.”
Hearing this, Lu Lingcong pulled the quilt back a little and lowered his head to ask, “Then the entire mansion must have been searched thoroughly. Are you sure the entrance to the secret passage won’t be discovered?”
Xie Jing just narrowed his eyes and said, “I replaced the quick-release latch for the door with a magnet wrapped in a wood lacquer. It can only be opened by attraction; human hands cannot open it. The maids cleaned that area only once every ten days, and it would never occur to them to touch it with a magnetic needle or stone.”
He didn’t mention that the idea had come from the technique of burying silk threads beneath his skin, and he certainly couldn’t bring himself to say it either.
After waiting a long while without hearing any reply from Lu Lingcong, Xie Jing was just about to open his eyes when Lu Lingcong stopped him. “Don’t open them.”
“Why?”
“I like it best when you bury your face like that,” Lu Lingcong chuckled. “It makes you look as though you’ve never grown up.”
Xie Jing let out a quiet scoff. “I’m thirty years old and still not grown up? Have you no shame saying that?”
“You can’t see yourself, so you don’t realize it,” Lu Lingcong traced Xie Jing’s nose bone with his fingertips. “You have always been like this.”
He could still vividly remember an autumn afternoon, late in the season, with a vast, distant sky, wispy clouds, and not a hint of wind. Xie Jing was leaning back on the couch in the study, using one arm to cradle a soft pillow while burying half his face into it. Though not asleep, his demeanor was languid.
A soft white fox fur rug lay draped over the couch, and Lu Shuqing, who was probably not yet a year old, was gently rolling and turning on it.
Xie Jing was neither disturbed by the chirping of birds outside the half-open window, nor did he notice Lu Lingcong standing in the outer room watching them. He merely gazed quietly and intently at Lu Shuqing. After a long while, he secretly curled the corner of his mouth, lost in thought.
According to ancestral customs, the emperor held hunts during the four seasons when farmers had little work: Spring Scouring, Summer Tending, Autumn Hunting, and Winter Tracking. However, such grand events often required a large expenditure of manpower and resources, and four times a year was a waste of public funds. Xie Jing recalled that the late emperor held them only once every other year. This was the first time since Lu Lingzhang ascended the throne three years ago.
Xie Jing had his own carriage, horses, and retinue, but since he was considered to have openly defected to the Wang family, he simply avoided the crowd of officials to spare them mutual awkwardness. He went directly to pay his respects to Wang Chu. Wang Chu showed no particular reaction, nodded, and said, “Follow along,” then Xie Jing quietly complied.
Prince Zhao and the Eldest Princess, the two siblings, rode close to the emperor’s carriage on horseback, while Yi Yun followed behind by pulling a carriage that likely carried the two children.
Xie Jing also spotted Wang Chu’s eldest son, Wang Qi, his second son, Wang Xi, and the couple Cui Shushi—and noticed something odd: at hunts, typically only the emperor’s consorts accompanied him, and it was extremely unusual for a subject to bring along a female relative. However, Cui Shushi was neither sitting in a carriage nor accompanying her husband; instead, she closely followed Wang Chu’s horse, respectful and obedient, chatting with him occasionally.
Xie Jing usually encountered Wang Qi more often in the study of the Prime Minister’s Mansion. According to his observation, Wang Chu did not particularly rely on his second son, and Wang Xi only held insignificant positions in the court.
Conversely, Cui Shushi, who was always at odds with her husband and ostracized by other women, had gained Wang Chu’s favor. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have been her turn to personally administer the poison to Xie Jing that day.
It was not strange for Cui Shushi, who came from a military family, to possess strong methods and real capability. But why would she also be poisoned with the same toxins? Or perhaps the causality was reversed—could it be that only by using poison to control Cui Shushi did Wang Chu dare to rely on her services?
The Imperial procession reached the base of Mount Tang, where all the officials established their camps. Lu Lingzhang appeared in high spirits, smiling as he said, “It has been a long time since Zhen gathered with Imperial Brother and Imperial Sister like this.” The three siblings then took a small troop of light cavalry up the mountain to hunt, returning only by evening. They then held a banquet in the main tent, with only members of the imperial family seated at the tables.
Xie Jing’s rank was high enough to warrant his own tent. He had initially thought of lingering near Wang Chu, intending to invite himself to the Prime Minister’s tent for dinner. But before he could move, a servant appeared and knelt outside the screen, saying, “Please, Lord Xie, it’s time for your evening meal.”
Exhausted from half a day’s ride, Xie Jing collapsed onto the bed with his eyes closed and merely said, “Leave it there.”
The servant did not leave but emphasized his tone again, hinting, “The Eldest Princess took first place today, impressing both His Majesty and His Highness. Delighted, she specially ordered deer meat to be prepared and invited all the lords to partake.”
Xie Jing’s heart stirred. He opened his eyes and got off the bed before slowly walking out to the screen. He noticed a man and a woman kneeling opposite each other, both dressed as ordinary palace attendants. Yet the man’s outer coat hem was slightly creased, revealing a corner of the inner lining embroidered with a white crane.
He Instantly understood it was the Hewei, one of Lu Lingzhen’s people.
“Since it is the Eldest Princess’s kindness, I might as well try some.” Xie Jing walked over to the desk and sat down. The maid holding the food box behind him advanced on her knees. The Hewei said to her, “Serve Lord Xie well,” and then retreated outside the tent.
Xie Jing was stunned. Immediately, he saw the maid, who had been constantly bowing and lowered her head, raising her head. The wisps of hair at her temples no longer concealed her face as a pair of familiar eyes met his gaze.
“Yin Chou!” Xie Jing exclaimed in a breathy whisper.
Their last meeting was at the gates of the Prince’s Mansion, where Yin Chou watched him and Lu Shuning depart. He heard from Lu Lingcong that for the past three years, she had been traveling all over, mostly managing finances with the trading caravans, and when she returned to the capital, she meticulously looked after Lu Shuqing.
Xie Jing had never previously felt that Yin Chou was much older than him as she was always well-groomed and stylishly dressed, but meeting her now, she was visibly much thinner.
Yin Chou smiled, squeezed Xie Jing’s fingers, and whispered, “Princess Consort, you have suffered. I only returned from Yunzhou the day before yesterday and couldn’t see you earlier.”
Xie Jing looked at her. All the shared time, laughter, and cheer within the Prince’s Mansion years ago surged into his heart. A thousand words could only be compressed into one sentence: “I owe you too much.”
Yin Chou, however, shook her head: “The Princess Consort’s mercy in saving me at the Star-Plucking Tower that day had already bound me to repay you even with my life. Moreover, I’ve had the fortune of raising His Highness Shizi and the Commandery Princess for all these years. How can the affection between us be measured by a single word like ‘owe’?”
Xie Jing could only sigh with emotion; then, recalling his current situation, he quickly asked, “How did you get here?”
“The Eldest Princess sent a message saying that during this spring hunt, she might not always be able to stay with the two little masters, so she had me follow them to give extra attention and care. Now that everyone in the camps is busy eating with people coming and going, I finally had a chance to come over.”
Xie Jing immediately understood why he had seen the Hewei. He had originally thought the Hewei might follow the procession and operate covertly, but he hadn’t expected someone to disguise themselves and enter the camp. This implied that Lu Lingzhen had arranged for people to closely guard Lu Shuqing and Lu Shuning as a precaution, while the Wang family attendants outside were probably overseen and redirected by the Hewei.
This was not a good opportunity to reminisce, so he could only ask the most crucial question: “I need your help with a matter, but you must keep it completely secret from the Prince’s Mansion and, above all, make sure His Highness doesn’t find out.”
Given their years of mutual understanding, Yin Chou’s expression changed the moment he spoke. Xie Jing stopped hesitating, rolled up his sleeve to reveal the two red dots, and concisely explained how Cui Shushi had slowly embedded the silk thread under his skin that day and instructed him to replace it monthly.
Yin Chou’s brow furrowed tighter the more she listened. After he finished speaking, she was silent for a moment before saying:
“This is a rare poison from Dianzhong called the ‘Bone-stripping String.’ I read about it in an ancient book, but I never imagined it actually existed. I’m curious where Wang Chu managed to find it.”
“If it is not replaced monthly, what will happen?”
“That thread is made from silk spun by silkworms fed on poison. If it isn’t replaced promptly and stays in the body beyond fifty days, it can penetrate the flesh. After a full hundred days, it binds to the bone, making recovery impossible. Eventually, the person’s flesh and blood dissolve, leaving only a skeleton. The death is both agonizing and horrifying, which is why it’s called by that name.”
Xie Jing was about to ask more, but he heard the voice of the Hewei outside the tent: “Lord Xie is finishing his meal now. Prepare to go in and serve him.”
The two exchanged glances. Xie Jing swiftly took an object from the scented pouch at his waist and handed it to Yin Chou: “Give this to the children for me.”
Yin Chou slipped the item into her sleeve, lifted the food box, silently mouthed, “Take care, Princess Consort,” and turned to leave, passing by the Wang family attendant who was raising the tent flap to come in:
“Lord Xie, the people up top request your presence.”
Xie Jing was led by the servant past guard posts, and only at the end did he realize the destination was not the Prime Minister’s camp but the emperor’s main tent. Perhaps because everyone was tired from the afternoon hunt, the banquet ended early. When Xie Jing stepped in, the rest of the imperial family had already left, and the remaining dishes and low tables had also been cleared away. Besides Lu Lingzhang, who was leaning back on the main seat, only Wang Chu, Wang Qi, and Cui Shushi were seated nearby.
After he took his seat and exchanged a few pleasantries, he heard Lu Lingzhang say, “Just now during the banquet, Zhen saw Imperial Brother greeting the two nephews with extreme caution. It seems the effort involved must be even greater on ordinary days.”
Wang Qi chimed in, “Fortunately, the Eldest Princess is helping with meticulous care.”
“Although that is true, once Imperial Sister marries off, she naturally won’t be able to look after them closely all the time. In a couple of years, Shuning will be older, and there will be many inconveniences for a young lady.”
Wang Chu asked, “Does Your Majesty mean to…”
“The position of the mistress of the Prince’s Mansion is currently vacant with no one managing the domestic affairs. Zhen believes Maternal Uncle should not worry about Zhen’s own marriage yet. Following the order of seniority, let us first select a suitable princess consort for Imperial Brother and then properly and honorably settle Imperial Sister’s lifetime affair. It will not be too late to consider the candidate for the empress after that.”
Lu Lingzhang’s voice trailed off, and for a moment no one replied. Only then did Xie Jing realize that the “people up top” the attendant had mentioned were actually referring to Lu Lingzhang, not Wang Chu. The other three people present were likely also summoned in the same way.
The emperor would reach the age of majority and be due for marriage in a few months. Judging by the meaning explicit and implicit in Lu Lingzhang’s words, he did not wish Wang Chu to arrange this matter for him, so he brought up Lu Lingcong and Lu Lingzhen as excuses while positioning himself high above the situation as a matchmaker.
The next sentence confirmed his suspicion. Lu Lingzhang said to Cui Shushi, “Zhen had heard that several of the legitimate young ladies in Imperial Cousin’s wife’s family were all exceptionally beautiful and virtuous. Zhen wonders if they have been betrothed and if they have any interest in Imperial Brother?”
His tone was polite, but Xie Jing discerned that Lu Lingzhang likely held some resentment toward this Imperial Cousin’s wife. Otherwise, he would not publicly ask Cui Shushi to matchmake her former crush, especially mentioning such a long-standing discreditable matter in front of her in-laws. However, since the two had almost no interaction, why would there be discord between them?
Cui Shushi glanced at Wang Chu, and seeing that he was expressionless, she replied, “My maternal family does indeed have several cousins and nieces who are still unmarried, but my family is of minor standing and common status, and I fear they are not worthy of a noble member of the imperial family like His Highness Prince Zhao.”
“Nonsense,” Lu Lingzhang smiled. “The Cui clan are all pillars of the state. Zhen is constantly mindful of the achievements and loyalty of the late Duke Cui.”
Cui Shushi paused, then said, “Then it must depend on the wishes of His Highness Prince Zhao.”
A surge of ominous premonition rose in Xie Jing’s heart. Sure enough, Lu Lingzhang turned to him and slowly said, “That is why Zhen specifically summoned Minister Xie to ask for advice. There is likely no one in this world who knows Imperial Brother’s ‘wishes’ better than Minister Xie.”
He was silent for a while, then nodded and said, “Yes. His Highness Prince Zhao likes action, not stillness. He dislikes frail, sickly girls and delicate young ladies who chirp sweetly. He dislikes the uneducated yet also finds overly intelligent women disagreeable. Ideally, she should understand propriety, know when to advance or retreat, listen more than she speaks, and be careful with both words and actions. But these are all secondary. The very, very most important thing is…”
Xie Jing fell silent. Seeing all eyes on him, he gave a bright smile: “His Highness likes beauties the most. If Madam Cui can find a suitable candidate based on this one point, I suppose everything else is irrelevant.”
Silence fell over the tent for a moment. Before Xie Jing could withdraw his smile, he suddenly heard a clamor of voices outside. Shortly after, a guard rushed in, knelt down, and urgently reported: “Reporting to Your Majesty, the horse suddenly went mad without reason, lost control, and broke into the camp…”
Lu Lingzhang suddenly sat up straight: “What happened?”
The guard looked up, cast a hesitant glance at Xie Jing, and stammered, “…It collided with the Little Commandery Princess.”
The few gazes in the room, which had all been fixed on the guard, instantly changed direction. Wang Chu, Wang Qi, and Cui Shushi all watched Xie Jing impassively. The smile on Xie Jing’s lips had only just faded; he remained calm, continuing to wait for the rest of the report. Lu Lingzhang, however, glanced at Wang Chu and continued to ask, “How could a wild horse lose control in the camp?”
The guard bowed his head: “It was not a wild horse, but rather… but rather His Highness Prince Zhao’s former steed, Yi Yun.”
Xie Jing maintained his seated posture, watching Lu Lingzhang say, “Zhen will go and see,” and strode out of the tent. Wang Chu and Wang Qi followed one after the other. Before leaving, Wang Chu tossed a remark to Cui Shushi: “Lao Er’s[mfn]Second son.[/mfn] wife, you go back first.”
Cui Shushi bowed and slowly straightened up but did not comply. She stayed perfectly still, exuding a detached indifference as if watching a fire from the opposite bank; her fox-like eyes silently fixed on Xie Jing.
Xie Jing knew what her hooking gaze was conveying.
He quietly unclenched his right hand hidden within his sleeve. The short but intense period of nervous tension had caused his fingernails to dig deep into his palm, leaving several bloody scratches. The sweat stinging of the wounds caused agonizing pain.
Xie Jing knew what Cui Shushi wanted to say—“They treated me this way back then too.”
[i] Around 6:45 AM.
[ii] Second son.
