Shen Zechuan was a little dazed, his palm itching where Xiao Chiye’s stubble brushed against it. He looked at Xiao Chiye and said, “…It’s prickly.”
Xiao Chiye said, “Does it feel uncomfortable to touch?”
Shen Zechuan said, “It feels good.”
There was a small distance between them, yet it was as though there were no gap at all. Xiao Chiye was grimy—he had had no time to clean up these past few days. Now that he was close to Shen Zechuan, he didn’t bother to mind it, letting Shen Zechuan touch him as he pleased.
Chenyang held the door curtain, guessing the timing was about right. He wanted to let the others go in, but without hearing Xiao Chiye’s permission, he could only keep a group of guards stuck at the entrance. Each of them stared up at the sky or down at the ground, blankly zoning out.
“Had enough touching?” Xiao Chiye couldn’t help laughing.
“Not quite,” Shen Zechuan pressed his lips together, leaning close to Xiao Chiye’s ear and whispering, “It pricks so badly it hurts.”
“Where does it hurt?” Xiao Chiye tilted his head, resting his forehead against Shen Zechuan’s.
Shen Zechuan looked at him. His eyes were like a mountain lake veiled in mist, holding that lingering, unfinished feeling deep inside, revealing it all to Xiao Chiye through their gaze. Even the corners of his eyes carried a faint, suggestive tenderness.
Xiao Chiye suddenly covered Shen Zechuan’s eyes. After a brief pause, he said, “This isn’t the right time to egg me on, is it?”
“What are you thinking?” Shen Zechuan said. “I’m just looking at you.”
“No looking,” Xiao Chiye said. “Go back and look later.”
Outside, Chenyang coughed a few times and raised his voice. “My lord…”
Xiao Chiye moved his hand away, stood up, and said, “Come in.”
Only then did Chenyang lift the curtain, and everyone filed in.
Shen Zechuan leaned against the pillow, a cloak draped over his shoulders. He drank his medicine while listening to them report on recent developments. When Qiao Tianya finished speaking, Shen Zechuan focused and pondered for a moment before saying, “Not bad. This matter is suspicious from beginning to end. I also suspect that the collapse of the Lotus Tower was no accident, but something deliberately engineered, using the blockage of the official drainage channel on East Dragon Street as a pretext.”
“The Emperor has been on the throne for less than half a year,” Xiao Chiye said, sitting on a stool beside him. “Everything is still waiting to be rebuilt. This is exactly the moment when everyone’s fortunes could turn for the better. Who would be willing to let him die?”
This was also what Shen Zechuan couldn’t figure out. He finished his medicine, handed the bowl to Qiao Tianya, and said, “We can’t easily verify matters within the palace. We need someone suitable on the inside.”
The position of the Director of the Ceremonial Secretariat’s chief eunuch had been vacant for a long time, which was no small issue. Xiao Chiye and Shen Zechuan both had no way to intervene in palace affairs—that was the Empress Dowager’s domain. Whoever would be appointed in the future would also be her decision. Still, having an insider, even if only marginally helpful, was better than being completely in the dark.
As Shen Zechuan thought of this, he suddenly asked, “Last time you said you wanted to investigate Xiangyun. Did you find anything?”
Xiao Chiye said, “I got busy and forgot. Gu Jin.”
Gu Jin stepped forward and said, “I went to Xiangyun Workshop but couldn’t dig up any key information. Xiangyun’s patrons are only a handful of people. I checked them one by one—none of them are connected to the false testimony incident from before.”
Shen Zechuan felt as though there was something he had overlooked. In the dark, some unseen hand seemed to be guiding all these events. There had to be a causal link between them. He sank back into thought, but perhaps because he had only just recovered from a serious illness, he couldn’t grasp the crucial point no matter how he tried.
“The Emperor still hasn’t woken up, and the epidemic hasn’t fully subsided,” Xiao Chiye said as he rolled his shoulders. “We’ve got a few days of breathing room. There’s no need to rush. The drainage channel has been cleared—everyone should rest well these next few days. This will get resolved eventually. Conserving our strength is the priority right now.”
The guards echoed their agreement and withdrew from the room. As soon as everyone was gone, Xiao Chiye sat down by the bed and took off his boots.
“You’ve slept your fill, but this Second Young Master is still forcing himself to stay awake,” Xiao Chiye said as he lay down beside Shen Zechuan. “Move over a bit—be my blanket.”
Shen Zechuan turned his head and said, “Sleep with the cloak on.”
Xiao Chiye closed his eyes. “You wear it.”
Shen Zechuan tucked the pillow under Xiao Chiye’s neck. Xiao Chiye groped blindly, caught Shen Zechuan’s hand, and, following the motion, pulled him closer and wrapped an arm around him.
“You’re too thin,” Xiao Chiye said, feeling him. “It’s bony to hold you like this. When autumn comes and the wild game from Libei arrives, we’ll nourish you properly. By winter, you’ll have put on some weight.”
Xiao Chiye’s breathing grew heavy. He was exhausted. He hadn’t slept much these past few days, staying alert day and night, like a lone wolf prowling the battlefield. Even the strongest stamina had its limits. With Shen Zechuan against him, the weight felt just right, pressing him into a warm, full sense of satisfaction.
Xiao Chiye had meant to sleep only for a bit, then calculate the medicinal expenses from the past few days that evening. Instead, he slept all the way until the following day at the third quarter of the Yin hour. When he woke, his mind was still foggy. Turning to the side, he buried himself straight into Shen Zechuan’s arms.
Xiao Chiye froze for a moment, then snapped fully awake. Propping himself up, he realized that he had shifted off the pillow during the night, spending the latter half pressing down on Shen Zechuan’s arm. Shen Zechuan lay on his side with his head on the pillow, one hand clutching the cloak and covering Xiao Chiye—an embrace that was almost protective.
The sky hadn’t brightened yet. The room was dark.
Xiao Chiye sank back onto the pillow and pulled Shen Zechuan to face him. The cloak barely covered both of them. In a hoarse voice, he asked, “Is it numb?”
Half-asleep, Shen Zechuan hummed in response.
Xiao Chiye rubbed his stiff arm and said, “You could’ve called me.”
When the warmth returned, Shen Zechuan said, “Xiao Er—”
Xiao Chiye said, “Mm?”
Shen Zechuan opened his eyes and looked at him. “You called out ‘Shen Lanzhou’ in your sleep.”
Xiao Chiye laughed softly, lowering his voice. “What you think about all day shows up in your dreams.”
They were so close. Being looked at like that made Xiao Chiye’s heart and body heat up. The vigor from having slept enough surged back, and he both wanted to tease Shen Zechuan and wanted him to sleep.
Outside, some unknown bird cooed, stirring ripples in the quiet night.
Xiao Chiye said, “Earlier you asked about Xiangyun. Did you think of something?”
Shen Zechuan said, “Where did Mu Rushi come from? Was she a girl the previous Emperor bought?”
“She was a birthday gift sent to the Emperor from one of the lower estates,” Xiao Chiye said, encircling Shen Zechuan. “She was first raised at the estate, and a lot of effort went into training her. I saw that her registered place of origin is Jincheng. Do you think it was her?”
“After the assassination attempt, the Emperor completely grew to loathe eunuchs. After Shuanglu, he no longer had any close attendants among them. The palace maids who serve him daily are all carefully selected. The only one who could incite him and help him leave the palace is Mu Ru,” Shen Zechuan said, sinking back into thought. “If it were her, there would have to be a reason… She has no imperial heir right now. As long as the Emperor lives, she lives. She should care about his safety more than anyone else.”
“That’s exactly it,” Xiao Chiye said. “Anyone capable of setting up such a scheme must have thought it through thoroughly. There has to be a motive. The late Emperor’s sudden death led to the Hua family’s fall from power. The repercussions weren’t limited to losing a few official caps—it affected political arrangements all across Great Zhou. Over the past half year, Hai Liangyi has formed a standoff with the great families, barely stabilizing the situation. If the current Emperor were to meet with misfortune now, it would benefit no one.”
“We’ll have to wait until the Emperor wakes up to learn more,” Shen Zechuan said. “This time, the Ministry of Works made such a grave mistake. Pan Xiangjie can’t escape responsibility and will certainly be impeached and detained for investigation. Have you met Liang Cuishan, the clerk from the Ministry of Revenue?”
“I have,” Xiao Chiye thought for a moment. “He’s quite diligent.”
“I had him keep a detailed record of all medicinal supplies going in and out over the past few days,” Shen Zechuan said. “Once we get out, the Ministry of Revenue and the Censorate will come to audit the accounts. You can just hand this ledger over.”
“Well done,” Xiao Chiye praised him without stint. “When the illness broke out, there was no time to wait for palace vouchers, so I had people take medicine directly from the pharmacies. The Imperial Guards kept their own records, but that’s never as convincing as testimony from the Ministry of Revenue. With this ledger, the Imperial Guards won’t have to get into a tug-of-war with the Ministry.”
Xiao Chiye hated dealing with officials from the Ministry of Revenue most of all. Annual account audits were already a headache. This time, with the drainage channel incident piled on top, those old foxes might try to drag the Imperial Guards down with them to make things difficult for the Grand Secretariat—after all, when everyone is at fault, no one is punished. Spring was also the busiest season for governance, with documents piling up like mountains. The Grand Secretariat was about to have plenty of headaches.
“You don’t want to see the Ministry of Revenue people, and they’re afraid of seeing you too,” Shen Zechuan smiled. “The last time, the Quancheng silk affair implicated Wang Xian. I heard he’s been transferred to the Ministry of Rites. Was that your doing?”
“I bore him no personal grudge. All our past debt-collecting was official business,” Xiao Chiye said. “He got implicated because of me and ended up with the stain of corruption. Moving him to the Ministry of Rites was only a stopgap.”
“This time, in the Censorate evaluation, he definitely won’t be rated as outstanding,” Xiao Chiye continued. “If he’s sent out of the capital, it’ll only be to some remote, impoverished place.”
Wang Xian was simply unlucky. He had been an official at the Ministry of Revenue and had a hard time dealing with Xiao Chiye. In earlier years, when the Imperial Guards’ equipment was in disrepair, every time it came to hard labor and account reconciliation, Xiao Chiye personally cornered him. They had no private relationship to speak of. Who would have thought disaster would strike out of nowhere? Xiao Chiye was reprimanded before the throne, and that Quancheng silk just happened to pass through Wang Xian’s hands. He couldn’t explain himself. Meanwhile, Xiao Chiye and Li Jianheng staged a display of brotherly loyalty between ruler and subject. Wang Xian, on the other hand, truly lost his post and nearly became a prisoner. Now he couldn’t even remain an official in Que Capital, and any external posting would be undesirable. The Censorate also slapped him with “dereliction of duty.” A lifetime of cautious diligence went up in smoke. He was wronged to death.
But Shen Zechuan’s thoughts stirred. “You’re not thinking of going with the flow and sending him to Zhongbo, are you?”
Xiao Chiye laughed. “You can even guess that?”
Xiao Chiye had lent Wang Xian a hand, getting him into the Ministry of Rites and at least securing his livelihood. Wang Xian had once disliked him, but now would be deeply grateful. Xiao Chiye planned that when Wang Xian was sent out of the capital, he would be transferred to Zhongbo. Zhongbo was currently infested with bandits and vagrants, and everyone wanted to stuff people in there.
“Other places are out of reach, but Cizhou definitely needs someone placed there,” Xiao Chiye said relaxedly. “Your idea about demolition compensation was a good one. The Cizhou prefect, Zhou Gui, is currently on good terms with us. Put a Wang Xian under him, and he’ll naturally understand what that means. Zhongbo’s six prefectures will certainly be under focused supervision this year, but no matter whom the court sends, Cizhou must remain under my watchful eye.”
Cizhou bordered the northeastern grain and horse routes. From Que Capital, Xiao Chiye was guarding the granary gates for the Libei Iron Cavalry. He and Xiao Jiming barely exchanged letters or spoke in detail, yet the brothers’ tacit understanding was flawless.
“Quancheng silk is a hidden danger,” Shen Zechuan shifted his head slightly. “If Fu Linye hadn’t been so eager for quick success and accidentally interfered, this account would have been the blade buried in the Imperial Guards’ ledgers. Was this account handled by Xue Xiuzhuo?”
“It was him,” Xiao Chiye said. “Xue Xiuzhuo… what do you think of him?”
“At first, I didn’t pay much attention to him,” Shen Zechuan said. “But when I checked his past Censorate evaluations, they were all outstanding. He entered court service in the Yongyi era, during the last three years of Emperor Guangcheng’s reign. After Emperor Xiande ascended the throne, Xue Xiuzhuo took up the post of Supervising Secretary in the Ministry of Revenue and stayed there for eight years. It wasn’t until last year’s upheaval at the Nanlin Hunting Grounds that he was promoted to the Court of Judicial Review as an Assistant Minister. Right after that, he handled two major cases concerning the Emperor’s safety: the Hua–Pan rebellion and the assassination attempt at the Hundred Officials’ Banquet. His reputation is excellent. He has extensive connections among the Eight Great Families and also gets along well with Hai Liangyi and the faction of officials from humble backgrounds.” Shen Zechuan paused, then said, “But I know nothing at all about his background before he entered court.”
“I do,” Xiao Chiye said. “Ask me.”
Shen Zechuan raised an eyebrow slightly. “Go on.”
“That doesn’t sound like you’re asking for a favor,” Xiao Chiye pulled the cloak closer and rested his head against Shen Zechuan’s. “You have to make me happy before I’ll tell you.”
He spoke with roguish ease, half just to tease. Who knew Shen Zechuan would look at him, part his lips, and breathe softly. At such close range, warm and light, he murmured, “Ce’an.”
That faint warmth brushed Xiao Chiye’s cheek, traveled along the bridge of his straight nose, and reached his lips. The two of them almost touched.
Xiao Chiye abruptly rolled over, propping himself above Shen Zechuan, correcting his chin with his fingers. “All talk and no action is just empty posturing,” he said. “This Second Young Master doesn’t fall for that.”