SC Chapter4

The case of Prince Wujing’s treason stirred up a storm in the imperial court, only to subside without a sound. Prince Wujing, Xie Minquan, had wielded power for many years and was long an eyesore to the emperor. Now that this towering, shade-casting tree was uprooted, the emperor was naturally pleased. The decisive killer was the current emperor, the swift military force was the twenty-sixth battalion of the Imperial Guard, but the party that truly found the irrefutable evidence of Prince Wujing’s treason was the Tianyi Division.

However, few people knew whose hands held the most ruthless and swiftest blade in this entire scheme.

In Jinling City, at the Changle Workshop, an opera called “Hundred Flowers Pavilion” was being performed on stage. Golden strings and jade flutes filled the spring air, while wax torches and orchid lamps glowed until the break of dawn.

Shen Yunjie arrived midway through the opera. Jiang Lingxin sat leisurely inside an elegant pavilion while toying with an ornate dagger inlaid with gold and jade.

“Shizun, you called for me…” Before Shen Yunjie could finish speaking, Jiang Lingxin waved his hand, signaling him to sit.

Shen Yunjie obediently sat beside Jiang Lingxin and said no more, simply accompanying him to quietly finish watching the opera.

When the curtains fell and the music faded, the crowd gradually dispersed. Only then did Jiang Lingxin lift the teacup beside him and say softly, “Guan’er, do you still remember how you left the Tianyi Division seven years ago?”

Shen Yunjie’s fingertips grew cold. He silently rose and knelt before Jiang Lingxin, stating calmly, “Seven years ago, Shizun spoke to me about the political situation in the court. You once said that His Majesty was restless, and how could he tolerate anyone sleeping soundly beside his bed? As long as Prince Wujing was not eliminated, there would be no peace. This unworthy disciple was willing to ease Shizun’s worries, and I volunteered to enter Prince Wujing Mansion as a spy.”

Jiang Lingxin gently stroked the top of Shen Yunjie’s head with his hand. “My Guan’er has grown up. You have done very well these past years. If not for you, how could all the rebellious traitors have been brought to justice?”

Shen Yunjie’s chin tightened as Jiang Lingxin pinched it with his fingers and forced him to look up.

“But Guan’er, the opera is over.”

Shen Yunjie’s eyes were calm, while his voice unwavering: “This disciple understands.”

Jiang Lingxin’s tone held both concern and mercy: “I’m only afraid someone has become too deeply immersed in the role and refuses to wake up.”

“Shizun!” Shen Yunjie suddenly looked up and met Jiang Lingxin’s icy gaze.

Jiang Lingxin loosened his grip as he closed his eyes, and softly hummed the tune from the opera they had just watched. The melody was winding and sorrowful, broken and faintly lingering: “The wine seeps into a sorrowful heart, and the person is already lost in intoxication; why deceive and quarrel for no reason… why quarrel…?”

Shen Yunjie’s hands, hidden within his sleeves, were clenched tightly, their color already drained to a ghostly white.

A crisp sound fell near Shen Yunjie’s ear as a cold, delicate dagger was tossed in front of him.

“Go on. It’s time for this play to have its curtain call.”

Shen Yunjie’s fingertips trembled slightly, but he ultimately picked up the dagger before him and took the Xuanwu Tablet, the token for the Imperial Prison, from Jiang Lingxin’s hand…