The official’s surname was Zhao. Until today, he had been an obscure figure, merely a third-rank court official.
He could barely be considered a high-ranking official. During the New Year and other festivals, he received gifts of charcoal and ice money from minor local officials, but in Chang’an, where powerful ministers and nobles were everywhere, he was hardly worth mentioning.
Even the gift lists he submitted to the Xu family every year were placed near the very bottom.
However, Lord Zhao was exceptionally skilled at currying favor and exploiting opportunities. He was a born schemer. He catered to the preferences of Chancellor Xu and Xu Zongwei, presenting them with gifts on several occasions. By chance, he also managed to ingratiate himself with their precious son, Xu Cong’an. Over time, he earned Xu Zongwei’s favor. During festivals, after submitting his gift list, he would even be invited to sit in the Xu residence for a cup of tea.
As a result, Lord Zhao’s official rank and standing had steadily risen, and the assignments he received were increasingly lucrative positions that brought him recognition before the Emperor.
Lord Zhao knew he had chosen the right side.
Apart from the obscure, idle officials at court, there were essentially only two major powers: the Jiang and Xu families. The Jiang family was no less influential. Chancellor Jiang was not only the Left Chancellor but also held the position of Grand Tutor.
Yet the officials aligned with the Jiang family were nothing but a bunch of impoverished, pedantic scholars. Although Lord Zhao, too, had come from a scholarly background, he prided himself on being far more clear-eyed than they were.
They were forever preaching benevolence, righteousness, and moral principles, talking grandly about saving the world and serving the people. Their words were nothing but empty promises. Their faction might appear imposing, but who among them actually commanded troops, wielded real power, and knew how to make money?
Naturally, those were the people of the Xu faction.
Sure enough, following his own philosophy of getting along in the world, Lord Zhao had enjoyed several smooth years—and today, he had climbed yet another rung on the ladder.
His Majesty had appointed him to reinvestigate the Shandong prefect’s embezzlement case.
How could he be unfamiliar with this case? During last year’s New Year celebrations, the prefect of Shandong had still been a fourth-rank official in the capital. The two of them had even run into each other at the Xu residence while delivering gifts.
Unfortunately, his colleague had not been so lucky. After being dispatched to Shandong, he had handled such a dangerous matter for Chancellor Xu and had been caught red-handed by the Prince of Guangling.
Now the embezzlement of disaster-relief silver was an established fact. The man would certainly lose his head.
What was there left to investigate in a case of corruption so blatant? Everything had already been thoroughly investigated while Emperor Qingping was still on the throne. Even the correspondence between that official and people in the capital had been preserved as evidence.
Lord Zhao knew exactly what he needed to investigate.
His task was to extricate the Xu family from the case, destroy the evidence, and ensure they emerged unscathed.
This was an opportunity for Lord Zhao.
The matter was simple. As long as he was ruthless enough, he could accomplish it with ease.
If he handled this properly, he would be doing the Xu family an enormous favor. The man now sitting on the throne was the Fourth Prince, whose blood was closely connected to the Xu family. Chancellor Xu held the reins of government, while the Xu family’s own descendants commanded troops outside the capital.
If he completed this task, why should he worry about the next several decades of his official career?
When Lord Zhao received the appointment, his heart trembled with excitement.
And what excited him even more was yet to come.
After court was dismissed, a young eunuch from the Fourth Prince’s side personally came to summon him, saying that the Fourth Prince had instructions for him.
Even when attending court, Lord Zhao usually stood somewhere in the middle toward the back. He could barely see the Emperor’s face, only the black gauze hats of the officials in front of him.
How many times in a year did he ever have the chance to be summoned by the Emperor?
He hurriedly straightened his robes and went to the imperial study.
The Fourth Prince was seated on his father’s dragon throne. He smiled amiably, told Lord Zhao to rise, and then dismissed every palace attendant.
Soon, only the two of them remained.
Lord Zhao was so excited that every muscle in his body was tense. The Fourth Prince, however, was as gentle as a spring breeze, chatting with him in a warm and friendly manner.
Lord Zhao was shrewd. He naturally understood that the Fourth Prince was not treating him this way because they had taken an instant liking to each other. There was something he wanted Lord Zhao to do.
Judging by the circumstances, it was most likely a thorn in the Fourth Prince’s side—something he needed handled under Lord Zhao’s name.
Lord Zhao was not afraid of such trouble.
If he failed, the Fourth Prince would still remember that he had worked on his behalf and would not punish him too severely. If he succeeded, he would have earned favor with the future Crown Prince and Emperor. His prospects would be all the brighter.
Sitting upright, Lord Zhao listened as the Fourth Prince continued their conversation.
After they had chatted for a while, the Fourth Prince finally steered the discussion toward business.
He explained that, even when he had still been a prince, he had already been troubled by two men at court.
One was Chancellor Jiang, who was hidebound, incapable of adapting, and always throwing his seniority around. The other was the Duke of Yongning. He might appear to have no interest in competing for power, but in private, he repeatedly ingratiated himself with and manipulated the Emperor. He had even encouraged his son to cultivate secret ties with the princes in the palace. Clearly, he harbored sinister ambitions.
As for the Shandong prefect’s embezzlement case, the Fourth Prince also suspected that the Duke of Yongning, who was based in Jiangnan, had been stealing the money under his own watch.
Since the Duke had managed to direct suspicion toward the capital, he must surely have had people operating in Chang’an as well. Of course, all of this was merely speculation. The most important thing was for Lord Zhao to investigate it himself.
Lord Zhao understood.
It no longer mattered who had actually embezzled the money. What mattered was that the Emperor despised the Duke of Yongning and wanted to take advantage of his absence from Chang’an to give the Duke’s household a thorough purge.
Lord Zhao responded with an appropriately grave expression, saying that he wholeheartedly agreed. Once he returned, he would discipline his subordinates and conduct a thorough search of the Duke of Yongning’s residence.
The Fourth Prince smiled and nodded.
“You are very considerate,” he said. “Very good.”
The men following Lord Zhao were a group of personal guards assigned to him by the palace to investigate the embezzlement case. There were between fifty and sixty of them.
That was not an especially large force, but when they surged toward the entrance of the Duke of Yongning’s residence, the display was anything but insignificant.
Lord Zhao knocked on the gates of the ducal residence.
A servant at the gate opened the door, only to find it crowded with soldiers. Startled, he immediately tried to shut it again, but a soldier thrust his hand into the gap and held it open.
Unable to close the gate, the servant watched helplessly as an official strode forward with an arrogant air.
“I have come under orders to conduct a thorough reinvestigation of a corruption case in Shandong,” he announced. “Evidence has now established that the Duke of Yongning is connected to this case. By imperial order, I am here to search his residence for the stolen funds.”
The servant was stunned.
Stolen funds? Their duke held no particularly high office, and the household had always been frugal. How could there possibly be any stolen money here? Besides, the corruption had taken place in Shandong, while their duke was in Jiangnan. How could the two possibly be connected?
Neither the duke nor the eldest young master was home. The second young master had also been away for the past few days. Only the Madam and the eldest young lady remained in the residence.
How could he let these soldiers raid the household?
Panicking, the servant hurriedly stepped forward to block their way with his body.
“Please wait, Officer. I must first report this to the Madam, and then—”
“Report it? So you can hide the stolen money before we search?” Lord Zhao sneered, raising a hand and waving it. “Men, search the place!”
These soldiers were already under the command of officials aligned with the Xu family. They had received their orders in advance and knew exactly what they were supposed to do. With a thunderous crash, they immediately forced open the gates of the ducal residence.
Most of the household staff were maids and older female servants, with only twenty or thirty male servants performing manual labor. When the young male servants heard what was happening and rushed over, the soldiers quickly seized every last one of them.
As a civil official, Lord Zhao was ultimately rather timid. He did not dare let his men commit any outright bloodshed that might invite trouble. Instead, he ordered the soldiers to beat, bind, and detain the male servants.
The maids scattered in terror. Leading his soldiers, Lord Zhao smashed and overturned things as they went, heading straight for the main courtyard.
A maid had already hurried ahead to notify the Madam.
However, the courtyards within the residence had no gates of their own. With most of the household consisting of maids and women, how could they possibly hold the soldiers back?
Inside the main room, Madam Jun heard the maid’s report and immediately understood what was happening.
Although the Duke of Yongning had never involved himself in court disputes, she knew better than anyone what his relationship with the Xu family was—and how the palace consort was connected to the Fourth Prince’s birth mother. The situation in Chang’an had changed dramatically over the past two days. By daybreak today, the Fourth Prince had already ascended the throne.
Shen knew that trouble would inevitably break out at the residence before her husband returned.
She simply had not expected it to come so soon.
She hurriedly instructed the maids to block the entrance to the courtyard for the time being. Then she took Linghuan by the hand. The little girl had been drawing in her room, and Madam Jun intended to hide her behind the main house.
These people probably would not dare to do anything truly terrible to them, but they were certainly here to cause trouble. Linghuan was still young. In the struggle, she might be hurt or frightened. Madam Jun absolutely could not allow her daughter to witness such a scene.
But before she could lead Linghuan to the back of the house, cries of alarm erupted from the courtyard.
Madam Jun looked outside and saw a group of soldiers barging straight in, ruthlessly throwing the maids who had been blocking the entrance to the ground.
In scarcely any time at all, the soldiers had secured the entire courtyard.
Madam Jun slowly straightened, silently shielding Jun Linghuan behind her.
Then Lord Zhao strode in with an arrogant air.
“This subordinate pays his respects to the Duchess,” he said, looking at Shen with a mocking smile as he bowed.
Madam Jun shielded Linghuan and replied calmly, “You have suddenly barged into my residence. I hardly deserve such a courtesy from you, my lord.”
Lord Zhao laughed a few times.
“I ask the Madam to forgive me. I am acting under imperial orders,” he said. “I have come today because we received information that the Duke is connected to the Shandong embezzlement case, and we must search the residence. Under the regulations, the Madam must also accompany me to the Bureau of Judicial Punishment. Once the matter has been thoroughly investigated, I will escort you back.”
Madam Jun’s hand tightened around Linghuan’s arm.
He intended to have her detained.
“May I ask which law of our dynasty authorizes this procedure?” Madam Jun forced herself to remain calm as she asked.
Lord Zhao merely laughed.
“Why, the Emperor’s command, of course.” He paused, as though suddenly remembering something. “Oh, I hear there is also an eight-year-old young lady in this residence? Since there will be no one here to look after her, we may as well take her to the Bureau of Judicial Punishment with us, where she can be cared for.”
Madam Jun took a step backward.
He intended to detain Linghuan as well.
Once they reached the Bureau of Judicial Punishment, they would be thrown into prison. The cells were cold and damp, and once inside, they would be treated as criminals. No one could say what kind of torment they might have to endure.
Her heart turned cold. She clutched Jun Linghuan’s arm tightly.
Linghuan was old enough to understand their conversation. Her shoulders trembled slightly with fear, and her mother’s grip hurt her arm, but she did not dare make a sound.
“If this is indeed an imperial command, then there should be an imperial edict,” Madam Jun said, looking at Lord Zhao.
The Fourth Prince might indeed be capable of issuing such an order. But first, he was neither Crown Prince nor Emperor at the time the order would have been issued. Second, even if he had ascended the throne, he could not arbitrarily order the detention of an official’s female family members without any justification.
Lord Zhao laughed again.
“Madam, the garrison at Qinmen Pass is stationed just outside the city. I have not come here to seek your permission. I have come merely to inform you.”
With that, he raised a hand.
At once, the soldiers in the courtyard surged forward.
Several maids hurried to protect Madam Jun, but the soldiers roughly dragged them away. Immediately afterward, soldiers seized Madam Jun and began pulling Jun Linghuan out of her arms.
Madam Jun naturally could not overpower them. She was yanked away in a single motion.
“Mother!”
A soldier had grabbed Jun Linghuan. At last, the little girl could not hold back and cried out.
As her voice rang through the courtyard, two tears she had been struggling to suppress rolled down her cheeks.
Madam Jun no longer cared about maintaining her composure. She struggled desperately toward her daughter.
But the soldiers dragged her farther and farther away.
“Take them away,” Lord Zhao said indifferently after glancing at the scene. He turned to leave.
Yet at the very instant he turned around, a sharp whistle split the air.
An arrow shot through the air from a distant point, like a hawk diving toward its prey, leaving behind nothing but a fleeting shadow.
Lord Zhao had no time to see what was happening, let alone make a sound.
The arrow pierced his throat and drove him hard into the ground.
Lord Zhao died instantly.
Before the surrounding soldiers could react, a figure carrying a bow leaped down from the roof opposite them and charged into the main room.
He put away his bow, drew his saber, and, before anyone could even comprehend what was happening, swept the blade across the throats of the two soldiers holding Madam Jun.
Both men collapsed immediately, their blood splashing across Madam Jun’s silk skirt.
Outside, the soldiers who had been securing the perimeter of the courtyard had already been dealt with by the Eastern Depot agents and Jinyiwei who had rushed to the scene.
The few men inside the room were so terrified that they had gone completely blank.
The soldier holding Jun Linghuan was so frightened that he shoved the little girl away.
She lost her footing and fell forward, but a figure reeking of blood caught her before she hit the ground.
Jun Linghuan gave a little sob.
This embrace was quite different from her elder brother’s. The man’s body was hard, and he carried the metallic, rusty smell of blood.
Through her tear-blurred eyes, she looked up. She could not make out his face clearly, but she could see his sharp jawline and the blood running down it.
She did not yet know that this young man was called Duan Shisi.
Duan Shisi looked at the soldier.
He had no idea how frightening he looked at that moment. His face was spattered with blood, his expression blank, and his dark eyes were cold and unfathomably deep. He resembled no ordinary person—only a bloodstained blade.
He had happened to catch Jun Linghuan just now. Now he held his saber in one hand and a clean little girl in a goose-yellow silk dress in the other.
The soldier kept retreating.
But in the next instant, the young man stepped forward.
The tip of his blade pierced the soldier’s throat, and blood sprayed across his face.
The soldier did not know that he had stirred up the rarest trace of hatred buried in this young man, whose humanity was still so incomplete.
It was a memory from the darkness of his earliest childhood: he, too, had once been held captive in a corner like this, forced to watch as Duan Chong butchered his parents, one knife stroke after another.
The soldier died beneath Duan Shisi’s blade, his eyes still wide open.
Duan Shisi withdrew his saber.
By his usual habits, once he had completed a task, he would report back to his master and then move on to the next assignment.
But as he glanced around, he frowned.
Several corpses lay inside the main room, leaving the place in utter disarray.
He had forgotten.
He had forgotten that his master had instructed him not to let blood stain the Duke of Yongning’s residence. His actions just now had been entirely instinctive, and in the heat of the moment, he had forgotten his master’s prohibition against killing anyone here.
Duan Shisi felt rather vexed with himself.
Only then did he belatedly notice that the small figure in his arms was soft and warm, carrying a faint, sweet fragrance utterly unfamiliar to him.
He lowered his head.
It was a little girl.
He had caught her as casually as if she were an object, forgetting that she was a living person.
He was about to let Jun Linghuan go when the little girl lifted her head.
Her almond-shaped eyes were clear and gentle, a beautiful, deep brown. At that moment, they were filled with tears. When she blinked, the tiny droplets clinging to her eyelashes trembled and fell.
The little girl gave a soft sob. Clearly, he had frightened her.
Duan Shisi was long accustomed to seeing fear in other people’s eyes. He loosened his arm and prepared to set her back on the ground.
But then the little girl spoke in a soft, sweet voice.
“…Thank you, big brother.”
Something seemed to strike Duan Shisi right in the heart.
He silently met Jun Linghuan’s gaze.
He had no idea how terrifying he looked at that moment, or how cold his eyes were. All he saw was the little girl staring at him in surprise before even more tears began spilling uncontrollably from her eyes.
He paused, then expressionlessly set Jun Linghuan back down and turned to Madam Jun, clasping his saber as he bowed.
“This subordinate has failed in carrying out his duty. I will go to my master and accept punishment,” he said.
He had failed to fulfill his master’s instructions and allowed blood to be spilled within the ducal residence. That was the first offense.
…And he seemed to have frightened the eldest young lady of the Duke of Yongning’s household into tears. That was the second.