In the second watch of the night, at the foot of Mount Tang, within the Eldest Princess’s tent.
Lu Shuqing had been dozing while leaning against the edge of the bed with his forearm propping up his face. Gradually, the arm went numb, and just as his strength gave out, and his head was about to bump against the bedside, a pale, slender hand gently caught and supported it.
He woke up startled. After focusing and recognizing the person in front of him, he quietly called out, “Auntie is back?”
Yin Chou smiled and reached out to touch the red mark pressed onto his cheek: “I brought back some little trinkets for you guys from Yunzhou. They are at the Prince’s Mansion. We can look at them when you go home.”
Lu Shuqing lowered his eyes: “We still don’t know when we’ll be able to return. From the looks of it, the Empress Dowager may not allow us to go home even after the spring hunt has ended.”
Yin Chou gently nudged Lu Shuning’s small, exposed foot back beneath the covers, carefully tucking the quilt around her before sighing as she looked at the sleeping child’s face. Yi Yun’s sudden intrusion hadn’t actually hurt her anywhere, but she was, after all, not as familiar with Yi Yun as the others in the family, so she was a bit frightened. Exhausted from the earlier commotion, she had fallen asleep early.
“I went to see the Princess Consort this evening.” She lowered her voice slightly, opened her arms, and allowed Lu Shuqing to move closer and lean against her.
“What happened tonight alarmed Uncle and Prime Minister Wang so Mother must surely know by now. He must be anxious.” Lu Shuqing said glumly.
Yin Chou gently patted his shoulder and back, just as she used to when soothing him to sleep as a child. She consoled him, “While you were asleep just now, I heard the Eldest Princess instruct the Hewei to send word to the Princess Consort, reporting that you guys are safe. By now, his mind should be at ease.”
She slid the item Xie Jing had asked her to deliver out of her sleeve, held it up between her fingers, and shook it slightly in front of Lu Shuqing: “Look what this is.”
Lu Shuqing was stunned as he took it and placed it in his palm. Using the bedside lamp to examine them more closely, he realized they were two Shoushan stone seals, each about the size of a thumbnail. The knobs were tied together with a thin string, and the carved faces bore his and his sister’s names in quxia-style seal script: one engraved with the character “Qing,” and the other with “Ning.”
“My mother carved them!” He exclaimed quietly in surprise. Yin Chou nodded and habitually instructed, “When you get back, find a silk box or pouch or something to hide them in. The stone is delicate, so be sure not to chip or bump it. Ning’er is still small and won’t need hers for now so keep it safe for her.”
Lu Shuqing knew that his mother always liked these little objects for the study. Although he wasn’t an expert in epigraphy and seal carving, his mother would fiddle with them for fun in his spare time. In the days before they left the capital that year, his mother had been secretly carving a pair of white jade disc pendants, intending to give them as a gift for his father’s birthday the following year. Unfortunately, events unfolded so abruptly that they were rushed out before the pendants could be completed. Now, one was worn by his father, and the other was given to his little sister when they returned to the capital.
“I understand.” He put the seals into his pouch, looked up at Yin Chou, and smiled, his eyes crinkling. “Thank you, Auntie.”
Outside the screen, a squat, black jar, resembling a wine container, was placed on the table. Lu Lingcong and Lu Lingzhen sat opposite each other, both with solemn expressions.
“The Hewei found it in the cabinet under the bed. I checked when I changed clothes after returning from the hunt this afternoon, and everything was normal. The Hewei was only absent from the tent when taking Yin Chou to see Saosao. This item must have been placed in then.” Lu Lingzhen said.
Lu Lingcong frowned slightly while using the tip of a dagger to poke at the dark, inky contents of the jar. A faint, rank odor diffused into the air.
“Damp soil and live earthworms…” He narrowed his eyes, leaning closer, and carefully sniffed. “And there’s a scent of blood. But it’s still too faint. An ordinary person could never detect it. Even if it were under your bed, you’d probably just think it came from camping in the wilderness.”
Lu Lingzhen paused thoughtfully: “It’s just after the Grain Rain, and it’s been raining for nearly half a month, making the mountainsides even damper. With the recent warm weather, snakes and insects are starting to emerge from their burrows.”
Lu Lingcong nodded, “Snakes follow the rank scent. I suspect the arrangement of your tent so close to the woods is no accident.”
Lu Lingzhen suddenly asked, “Before His Majesty came to check just now, was he talking to Saosao in the main tent?”
“Yes, Yin Chou said she heard him being summoned by the high officials just as she left.”
“That’s it then. Saosao hasn’t fully gained the trust of the Prime Minister’s Mansion, hence this test. Fortunately, Yi Yun’s nose was sharp, and it smelled the strange odor and burst in. Otherwise, if it had truly attracted snakes, the consequences would have been unthinkable.”
Lu Lingcong was silent for a while as he pressed his little finger lightly against his brow, “Do you think the Wang family did this?”
“It’s hard to say,” Lu Lingzhen pondered and analyzed. “I always feel something is strange. What exactly is Wang Chu trying to test? If Yi Yun hadn’t been a stumbling block, and if he had truly wanted to lure snakes into my tent, he would have done it late at night. By the time the commotion reached Saosao through the chain of messengers, and he got up to change before coming over, the harm would already have been done. He must have already made his calculations; what could he possibly discern just from that expressionless face?”
Lu Lingcong slowly said, “Excluding you and Ningning, the two who actually experienced it, the first person the news reached after the incident is the one he’s testing.”
Lu Lingzhen recalled the entire process of the accident today in her mind: after the banquet in the main tent, she and Lu Lingcong excused themselves together. Lu Shuqing went off with his father while she took Lu Shuning back to the tent. Inside, Yin Chou was tidying up the luggage, and the Hewei were discreetly posting guards around. She asked Lu Shuning to sit by the table and wait for a moment, then went around the screen to ask Yin Chou about her meeting with Xie Jing. Within a few sentences, she heard the exclamations of the inner attendants and the urgent hooves outside the door. Immediately afterward, Yi Yun burst into the tent. The Hewei’s primary duty was naturally to protect the safety of their master’s so they quickly followed in while the inner attendants who failed to stop the divine horse were panicked and rushed to the main tent to report the news to—
“It was His Majesty.” Lu Lingzhen was startled and softly reached a conclusion.
Lu Lingcong neither confirmed nor denied it, merely staring deeply at the lacquer sheen on the jar. After a moment of silence, Lu Shuqing emerged from behind the screen and quietly requested: “Father, Aunt, I’m going to check on Yi Yun.”
“Don’t take her far,” Lu Lingcong replied as he snapped back to attention. “Have the Hewei follow you.”
Lu Shuqing agreed and lifted the curtain to leave. Yi Yun was tethered near a horse post not far from the tent. Lu Lingcong had just scolded her a few times in front of the officials, so she was feeling aggrieved and indignantly flicking her ears back and forth.
He walked over to her. Yi Yun’s stature was still considerably taller than his so Lu Shuqing had grown accustomed over the past few years to communicating with her by looking up like this.
“Good girl, I know you were afraid Ningning was in danger.” He gave the reins a gentle tug, and Yi Yun reluctantly lowered her head slightly, allowing him to stroke her as she listened to his whispers. “Father isn’t angry with you. He had to say those things in public. If he hadn’t expressed a position first, Uncle would have blamed you even more severely. Of course, it’s wrong for him to scold you no matter what and I’ve already criticized him for you.”
Yi Yun naturally couldn’t confirm whether Lu Shuqing had truly gone to scold his father, but she always responded kindly to her little master’s gentle and affectionate demeanor. The gesture of goodwill was extremely effective, and she immediately and awkwardly nudged his hand with her meritorious nose.
“Alright,” Lu Shuqing said, leaning his face close to hers with a chuckle, “Tomorrow we’ll climb the mountain and run to our heart’s content.”
Xie Jing suddenly snapped his eyes open while trembling slightly beneath the covers. Cold sweat drenched his hair, plastering it on his cheeks. Once again, he had dreamt of a scene that had replayed countless times over the past three years: he was dressed completely in white mourning clothes while walking alone. Behind him stretched the long, winding Spirit Road of the Zijin Mountain Imperial Mausoleum, and before him lay an endless expanse. There was only one difference—this time, he could clearly see whose coffin he was escorting: the surname on the spirit tablet in his arms was “Lu.”
He stayed pressed against the pillow before exhaling slowly to steady his mind, yet the stifling fear from the dream left a lingering terror in its wake.
How could the character “Lu” be just an ordinary surname to him? Whether it belonged to his husband, his children, or his younger sister, seeing anyone’s name on that ancestral tablet would mean the death of him.
Xie Jing could only comfort himself with the thought that Lu Shuning was sleeping safely beside her aunt, fully protected by the Hewei and her family, completely unharmed, and that he would see her again when he woke up tomorrow.
He was not Cui Shushi, and Lu Shuning was not Ah Huang. They had never been parted by death, and in the decades ahead, they absolutely never would be.
Cui Shushi’s final gaze, devoid of emotion, like still water, truly alarmed him. There was no need to doubt that Ah Huang did not die of illness as the Wang family claimed. But what exactly happened back then that allowed Cui Shushi to exhibit such bizarre calm and grotesque indifference when facing the “premature death of her daughter”?
His breathing slowly calmed down. Xie Jing grabbed the inner garment from the bedside and hastily wiped off the sweat. The Hewei had recounted the general course of events to him but lacked many details. He could not infer the situation from what happened in Lu Lingzhen’s tent, so he had to start by analyzing the main tent where he was at the time.
He closed his eyes and recalled that scene. What was certain was that when the guard said, “It collided with the Little Commandery Princess,” everyone present reacted with varying degrees of surprise. From his observation, Cui Shushi’s reaction was the faintest, while Lu Lingzhang’s was the most pronounced. The former had a pre-existing assumption, so everything was anticipated, and she merely raised her eyelids. The latter’s body instinctively leaned forward, a reaction impossible to feign. The Wang father and son, meanwhile, showed more confusion than genuine shock.
Soon, all these emotions were masked. The next moment, all three people focused their gaze on him, clearly in order to observe his reaction upon hearing that his daughter was in danger. But Lu Lingzhang… Lu Lingzhang looked toward Wang Chu.
Why did he look at Wang Chu? Was it a confirmation of “whether the plan had changed” or an inquiry into “why did this happen”?
There were too many people in the camp, and Xie Jing could not find an opportunity to discuss these matters with Lu Lingcong. He could only keep his doubts to himself for the time being. The next day, he continued to follow Wang Chu by tending to his needs. However, on the pretext that the reins had broken his hands from not riding for a long time, he wrapped his right palm, which he had clawed open with a bandage to avoid arousing Wang Chu’s suspicion.
The following days passed in routine. By day, the emperor went hunting, and by night, he held banquets for his officials in groups. His Highness Prince Zhao took this spring hunt as an opportunity to deepen his bond with his children, whom he hadn’t spent much time with by keeping the Heir Apparent and the Commandery Princess by his side and personally instructing them in riding and archery. Laughter and cheerful voices could often be heard.
The date for the imperial procession’s return was set for the second day of the fourth month. However, the sky darkened early that morning. Less than half an hour after the imperial carriage departed, spring thunder rumbled, and a heavy downpour began. The mountain roads became slippery and muddy, making it genuinely inconvenient to proceed, so they had to wait where they were.
Xie Jing was initially resting inside his carriage but suddenly heard his attendant announce, “Lord Xie, the Eldest Young Master requests you alight for a discussion.”
This attendant made no effort to hide that he was sent by the Wang family by addressing the person as “Eldest Young Master,” clearly referring to Wang Chu’s eldest son.
Wang Qi stood beside the carriage while holding a horse and an umbrella. Seeing Xie Jing lean out, he gave a slight nod of greeting. He presented a different demeanor from the other members of the Prime Minister’s Mansion; unlike his father’s straightforward malice or his brother’s unruly ruffian face, he was the most dignified and proper, closely resembling a scholar.
Xie Jing did not understand why Wang Qi insisted that he step out of the carriage to speak, but since the other party was unyielding, he had no choice but to comply.
“Father said he needed to verify a figure from the memorial sent by the Prefect of Pingjiang, which Lord Xie took back to your tent for a detailed reading the day before yesterday. He will use it for now and return it to Lord Xie afterward.”
He maintained a polite smile toward Xie Jing, but Xie Jing’s heart instantly sank upon hearing this, knowing there must be a catch.
He clearly remembered that after finishing reading the memorial, he had called the attendant who had just announced him and asked him to return it to Wang Chu’s tent. However, Wang Qi’s current casual inquiry proved that his intention was not the memorial itself. The memorial was merely a pretext. If Wang Qi insisted that Xie Jing hadn’t returned it, then even the King of Heaven himself couldn’t prove otherwise. So, Xie Jing simply didn’t waste his breath and just said:
“Things have been busy and complicated lately. Perhaps I put it down casually after reading it and can’t find it now. However, I remember all the content and every word. If Young Master Wang trusts me, how about I just write it from memory and send it to Lord Prime Minister?”
Wang Qi merely spoke unhurriedly: “I naturally trust Lord Xie a thousand times over, but the original memorial carries His Majesty’s red-ink imperial endorsement, so it would be troublesome if it were lost. Lord Xie can copy the text from memory, but surely you cannot replicate His Majesty’s handwriting as well, can you?”
Xie Jing stared into his eyes for a long moment, then spoke: “If that is truly the case, then it is indeed a grave mistake of mine. How can I make amends? I humbly ask Young Master Wang for instruction.”
Wang Qi pretended not to see the displeasure in his eyes and readily advised, “The palace servants are still at the camp cleaning and organizing the tents, so their work isn’t finished yet. Why don’t you, Lord Xie, go back yourself and search your tent carefully? You might just find it.”
Xie Jing paused and said, “Understood,” then turned to get into the carriage but was stopped by Wang Qi, who was non-negotiable:
“I specifically prepared a fine horse for Lord Xie so you can go and return quickly. If you take the carriage back, it’s cumbersome and conspicuous. If His Majesty sees and asks, it might be difficult to explain.”
Xie Jing let out a scornful laugh and said faintly, “Young Master Wang is truly divinely insightful and prepared for the unexpected, thinking of every possible detail for me.”
With that, he took a hooded cloak from inside the carriage. Without opening an umbrella, he swung into the saddle. Alone, on horseback, he urged the horse forward, riding straight into the sheets of rain.
Xie Jing had ridden for half a li when he discovered that the “fine horse” Wang Qi gave him had no horseshoes. Either it had only recently been broken in, or it was fundamentally a wild horse. He found it amusing: so, the horse that charged into the tent wasn’t a wild one, but a genuine wild horse was waiting for him here.
Wild horses are not accustomed to carrying weight and prefer softer, muddy ground. Initially, the horse seemed quite adapted to the wet and soft mountain path after the rain. However, upon turning onto the main road paved with sand and dirt, it gradually began to rebel against control, struggling against the reins, trying to return to the woods. Xie Jing did not have enough strength to fight its raw power against the wind and rain and could only half-pull, half-drag it along the edge of the deep forest.
Thirteen years ago, it was on this very road that he left the city to meet his elder brother returning to the capital, only to run into Lu Lingcong, who had just been ambushed in the woods. It was a chaotic and embarrassing night during which Lu Lingcong took every conceivable liberty with him, both verbally and physically.
He realized that that night was the first time they had both completely shed the layers of etiquette and upbringing, allowing them to see a version of each other rarely shown to outsiders and to interact with the honesty of their true selves. Everything that followed, perhaps, originated from that one night.
At that time, Lu Lingcong had a bow and arrows on his back and didn’t forget to give him commands, so he wasn’t completely down and out, at least his situation was better than Xie Jing’s currently. He just wondered what he would do if he, too, unfortunately encountered such a thing—
Xie Jing’s thoughts stalled when he saw a shadow at the bend in the road. Although it was daytime, dark clouds and the forest canopy blocked most of the light. He couldn’t see the path clearly, but the outline was still discernible.
It was a tiger.
The wild horse and his reins reacted almost simultaneously. It neighed, abruptly turned its head, and galloped wildly before crashing left and right like a headless fly in the woods. Thoughts flashed through Xie Jing’s mind like an electric current: During the spring hunt, all the animals on Mount Tang had been deliberately chosen and released by the officials. For the emperor’s safety, it was essentially impossible for a fierce beast like a tiger to break free.
Then there was only one possibility.
Back then, they released a deer to tempt Lu Lingcong to chase it. Now, they released a tiger to leave him no retreat.
Xie Jing recalled Lu Lingcong’s similar tactic of sacrificing a limb to save the whole body. He took a deep breath, measured the distance to the shimmering light reflecting the water ahead, and precisely timed the moment the wild horse leapt across the deep pool. He freed himself, jumped off, and plunged into the stream.
In the last moment before hitting the water, he heard the terrible shriek of the wild horse as it was bitten and torn by the fierce tiger.
When he opened his eyes again, there was no light source left. Xie Jing tried moving his limbs to confirm he was largely unharmed. He then felt the texture beneath him and found it to be smooth pebbles. His body below the calves was in the water while his upper body was sprawling on the ground. He must have been washed along by the pool water until he reached this shallow bank.
He lost all the concepts of time. He looked up but saw no starlight, indicating he was inside a water-eroded cave within the mountain. A faint breeze blew from ahead. Behind him, the flowing water offered no escape; to get out, he had to venture deeper inside.
Xie Jing stood up, took off his soaked cloak, wrung out the water a few times, and draped it over his arm. Just as he was about to walk forward, he suddenly heard the clear, tinkling sound of jade objects clashing nearby, which was especially distinct inside the empty cave.
This sound was too familiar to a nobleman like him, who had worn various types of jade at his waist since childhood. Xie Jing didn’t need to strain himself to recognize that it was the movement of someone walking.
However, the sound of that person’s footsteps was very light. One possibility was a light physique, and the other was martial arts skills. He had learned this distinction from Lu Lingcong.
In contrast, Xie Jing’s movements were far clumsier. He stumbled forward for dozens of steps, noticing the sound to pause briefly before resuming, and continued groping his way toward its source.
However, the only two people in this space both remained silent. Xie Jing could only conclude that this person was not here to kill him—if they were, they would have done so already.
He did not know how long he had been moving slowly, but Xie Jing gradually began to hear subtle sounds of breathing close to his ear, indicating he was near. He reached out, trying to gauge the distance by touch. His fingertips lightly brushed the edge of clothing, causing the person to flinch, and then Xie Jing felt their hair.
Judging by the height, this person’s stature was shorter than his. Perhaps it was a woman?
Immediately following, he encountered something cold and hard. With just a brush, he knew it was jade. As he slowly ran his fingers over the surface, they traced the shape of a lock, along with raised, unevenly carved characters…
Xie Jing’s breathing nearly stopped. An answer, one he absolutely did not wish to appear and believed was impossible, suddenly burst into his mind.
When he spoke, he could even hear the tremor in his own voice, shaken by shock and bewilderment:
“…Is that you… Qing’er?”
