Steam curled thickly; rain drummed outside.
As Shen Zechuan lowered himself into the water, Xiao Chiye behind him could clearly see the curve of his waist and hips, made more pronounced by the movement.
There was muscle—tight and compact.
Yet it didn’t look like the body of a martial artist, because to Xiao Chiye it carried no sense of threat.
Shen Zechuan sank into the spring. His feet, chilled numb by the rain, gradually warmed. Xiao Chiye entered the water as well, keeping far away, leaning back at the opposite end.
Shen Zechuan asked in surprise, “Why are you hiding so far away?”
“Because I feel like it.” Xiao Chiye roughly folded a damp cloth and laid it over his eyes, arms crossed, no longer looking at Shen Zechuan.
After a moment, he decided this was improper. He raised a hand, yanked the cloth away, and stared straight at Shen Zechuan. Shen Zechuan felt that Xiao Er looked just like his gyrfalcon at this moment—as if one poke would set him attacking.
“What are you trying to look at?” Shen Zechuan’s expression was as gentle as a spring breeze. He spoke in the coaxing tone one might use on a child buying candied hawthorns from a street stall. “Say it, and I’ll let you look.”
Xiao Chiye bent one leg, discreetly tugged at the last bit of covering at his waist, and said, “I already touched it earlier.”
Shen Zechuan sank a little lower, leaving only his eyes above the water.
The way Shen Zechuan looked at him made Xiao Chiye even more irritated. “What?”
Shen Zechuan lifted his chin slightly. “You were in a good mood just now. Why did the weather suddenly change?”
“My mood is still good,” Xiao Chiye said. “When you soak, you can shut up. There’s no need to talk—can you stop looking up at me like that?”
Shen Zechuan slowly rose. Water streamed down his chest; his hair, loosened by the soak, spread like ink in water, as though a magnolia blossom were climbing out through the steam.
Xiao Chiye couldn’t take it anymore.
How had he thought of the word flower?
He stared wide-eyed as Shen Zechuan moved closer. When Shen Zechuan sat down beside him, Xiao Chiye could even smell him.
Not fragrant—faint, clean. It made him want to breathe it in again.
Xiao Chiye withdrew the arm he’d been resting on the edge, suddenly grabbed the clothes from the small rack, and stuffed them wholesale into the water, blocking his waist. Only after doing all that did he calmly look at Shen Zechuan and say, “What, surprised? Afraid you’ll be tempted by Second Young Master’s looks, so I put up a shield.”
“Thank you so much…” Shen Zechuan looked displeased.
Xiao Chiye glanced down and realized he had grabbed Shen Zechuan’s clothes.
“…for washing my clothes,” Shen Zechuan said. “Looks like I’ll be soaking here until tomorrow.”
An awkward silence spread rapidly between them. Outside, the wind hissed and the autumn rain fell bleakly.
After a long while, Xiao Chiye said, “These clothes won’t dry anyway. Might as well call Chen Yang.”
He tilted his head back and let out a whistle.
The hot spring stayed silent. Langtao Xuejin and Meng didn’t come.
Xiao Chiye whistled again.
Outside, Meng tucked its head under its wing and ignored him. With rain this heavy, it had no interest in flying out to get itself soaked.
The silence felt endless.
At last, Shen Zechuan said, “…I’ll wring them out.”
Xiao Chiye shoved the clothes back down into the water and snarled through clenched teeth, “Wait!”
The two of them were trapped in the hot spring for the night. By the time the clothes dried, it was already mao hour. Shen Zechuan finally put them back on. As he tied his belt, he could still feel that predatory gaze, but he said nothing, pretending not to notice.
Xiao Chiye lifted the curtain. Outside was still pitch-dark. Mountain mist hung in the air, heavy with the damp scent after rain. It wasn’t easy to go down the mountain; the stone steps were coated in a thin layer of ice.
They walked one after the other.
“The drill ground occupies the southwest side of Maple Mountain,” Shen Zechuan said, surveying from above. “It’s very close to Qudu, yet Maple Mountain blocks it completely. The Eight Camps won’t patrol here. You chose this location extremely well.”
“If it weren’t for Maple Mountain, I wouldn’t want this land at all.” Xiao Chiye parted the maple branches and turned back, motioning for Shen Zechuan to duck under his arm.
Shen Zechuan did. The view ahead suddenly opened up; all obstructions dissolved into mist. The Imperial Guard drill ground lay clearly in sight, lines already running drills.
“The Imperial Guards didn’t act during the autumn hunt,” Shen Zechuan observed after a moment. “But their equipment is clearly complete. Now that Hua Siqian is dead and the post-hunt investigations are finished, the Censorate should be coming for you.”
Xiao Chiye’s salary clearly couldn’t support twenty thousand Imperial Guards, nor could he divert the Libei Iron Cavalry’s pay. Yet judging by the annual funds allocated by the Ministry of Revenue before the hunt, the Imperial Guards couldn’t possibly have been built to this scale. Xi Gu’an had died over what was “unclear.” Now that same “unclear” matter was about to come knocking on Xiao Chiye’s door.
“Let them come,” Xiao Chiye said.
Where the money came from—he didn’t continue. Shen Zechuan didn’t ask.
After a while, Xiao Chiye said, “Many of the Ministry of Works’ labor assignments have been given to the Imperial Guards. Starting five years ago, every tael paid for employing them has been recorded—black ink on white paper. No matter how the Censorate checks, they won’t find anything else.”
Because of this, Xiao Chiye had become infamous in the Ministry of Revenue as a debt-collecting demon. Everyone assumed he took the money to indulge himself, not knowing how frugal he’d actually been all these years. The only expense that could be called extravagant was alcohol. Li Jianheng was crude, but generous to his brothers. Every time he dragged Xiao Chiye to East Dragon Street—hiring girls, feasting with cronies—Li Jianheng paid out of his own pocket.
Li Jianheng ate from the imperial coffers and had no principal wife to restrain him. When he lacked money, he asked the palace. Emperor Xiande had never been stingy about his spending, even dipping into his private treasury for him. Li Jianheng never lacked silver.
Xiao Chiye never made it back to Libei, yet he had never resented Li Jianheng. No one understood better than he did that Li Jianheng treated all those drinking companions as real brothers.
Thinking of this, Xiao Chiye said, “The Empress Dowager saved you because she intends to use you. If things were peaceful, you might have risen step by step within the Embroidered Uniform Guard. But the late emperor struck suddenly, and the Empress Dowager… did she look for you?”
Shen Zechuan met Xiao Chiye’s gaze.
He couldn’t dodge—not for an instant. Xiao Chiye’s instincts were exceptionally sharp. Show even a trace of guilt, and Xiao Chiye would see through him.
Shen Zechuan said firmly, “No.”
Cold wind swept up, lifting the hems of their robes.
Xiao Chiye slowly exhaled white breath and smiled indifferently. “Then you’re quite lucky.”
When they returned to Qudu, dawn was just breaking. On horseback, Xiao Chiye said, “I’m going to morning court. You go back first.”
Shen Zechuan nodded and watched Xiao Chiye ride off. When he returned to his residence, Chen Yang was nowhere to be seen—he had probably already gone to wait outside the palace gates.
Shen Zechuan drew the Eastern Pearl from his sleeve. He pinched it between his fingers and examined it in the dim light. Before he could remove the cloth wrapping, he paused.
When he had undressed, he had put the Eastern Pearl into the right sleeve pouch. But now, it had come out of the left.
Shen Zechuan clicked his tongue softly and frowned.
Xiao Chiye reached the palace gates, dismounted, and climbed into his carriage, quickly changing into his court robes. Chen Yang had prepared breakfast; even the porridge was still hot. Xiao Chiye drank a bowl.
“I went to the drill ground last night to look for you and couldn’t find you,” Chen Yang said softly, kneeling by the curtain. “Qudu hasn’t been stable lately. When you go out, you really should bring people with you.”
Xiao Chiye set down the bowl. “Have someone keep watch on Shen Lanzhou at all times.”
Chen Yang acknowledged. “The area around his residence is entirely our people. As long as he goes out, he won’t escape your notice. But the Hua family has already fallen, Governor. What benefit is there in watching him now?”
Xiao Chiye didn’t answer. He lowered his gaze for a long time, his expression dark. Only when Chen Yang reminded him about court did he wipe his hands with a clean cloth and say, “I think this person is unpredictable. Looking at him now—can you see even a hint of martial skill?”
“He looks even more frail than when he first entered the Embroidered Uniform Guard,” Chen Yang replied. “If the Governor hadn’t mentioned that he helped during the autumn hunt, I wouldn’t have detected anything at all. Still, if you had Zhaohui take a look, he might see something.”
“Zhaohui met him last time he came to the capital and didn’t notice anything unusual,” Xiao Chiye said. “That body of his…”
He stopped abruptly. After a moment, he said, “Send word to Libei at once. Invite my master here.”
Chen Yang was startled. “Invite…?”
“No matter what method he used to conceal it, he won’t escape my master’s eyes.” Xiao Chiye turned his ring calmly. “Besides, I… also have matters to discuss with my master.”
Li Jianheng had postponed today’s court session. He hadn’t slept enough when Shuanglu reported that Hai Liangyi was kneeling outside. Li Jianheng woke at once—but Mu Ru was still asleep in his arms. He couldn’t extricate himself, so he craned his neck and whispered to Shuanglu, “You go. Send him away.”
Shuanglu soon returned, kneeling again. “The Grand Secretary insists on seeing Your Majesty. This servant said Your Majesty hadn’t risen yet, but the Grand Secretary said he would kneel and wait.”
Li Jianheng panicked. Mu Ru had just woken. He hurried to coax her, “Good darling, get dressed and go eat in the Chenming Hall! I have to receive the Grand Secretary!”
Mu Ru’s black hair fell like a waterfall. She was small and delicate. At this moment she didn’t cling or fuss, obediently dressing herself. Once done, she cast Li Jianheng a lingering, affectionate glance, then supported him up with the air of someone deeply favored.
Li Jianheng adored her like this, so reluctant to let her go he wished he could seat her on his knee during court.
“Next time,” he said, kissing her repeatedly. “Next time I won’t make you withdraw.”
He held her and spoke for quite a while. Shuanglu came in to urge him again before Li Jianheng unwillingly let Mu Ru leave.
Hai Liangyi entered with a grave expression and kowtowed.
Li Jianheng sat on the dragon throne. “Grand Secretary, please rise. Please rise.”
Hai Liangyi didn’t move, kowtowed again.
Getting no response, Li Jianheng glanced around, feeling his face burn. He coughed twice. “I’ve caught a chill these past two days. This morning I wanted to sleep a bit longer…”
“Your Majesty has been diligent with night governance of late,” Hai Liangyi said. “This old minister has heard as much. Yet none of the memorials submitted have received imperial response. After much thought, I came to remonstrate in person. Your Majesty is in the prime of life; if you govern diligently and sweep away your former listlessness, an age of clarity will soon arrive.”
Li Jianheng gave a dry laugh. “So-so. So-so…”
“But Your Majesty dwells deep within the inner palace, surrounded by eunuch scoundrels. If they are indulged, in time Your Majesty’s ears and eyes will be blocked, and you will be cut off from state affairs!” Hai Liangyi said with resolute severity. “This minister has heard that the close eunuch Shuanglu accepted bribes and even smuggled many disreputable, base persons to Your Majesty’s side. By palace law, anyone who brings outsiders into the palace without an edict deserves death by beating!”
With a thump, Shuanglu dropped to his knees, looking at Li Jianheng in terror. “Your Majesty—Your Majesty…”
“The Hall of Bright Principle is a sacred place of light under Heaven. How can a eunuch shout and make a disturbance?” Hai Liangyi turned to Li Jianheng. “Your Majesty!”
Li Jianheng’s heart pounded wildly. Faced with Hai Liangyi’s stern expression, he recalled that night of mortal danger. His palms broke into sweat; he rubbed them uselessly against his dragon robe, too frightened to even answer.
Guards were already dragging Shuanglu away. Shuanglu slid along the floor, crying out, “Your Majesty! Your Majesty!”
“The crime…” Li Jianheng looked at Shuanglu. “The crime does not warrant death…”
“Your Majesty,” Hai Liangyi said firmly, “Pan Rugui formed a eunuch faction and colluded with Hua Siqian, stirring chaos within and without Qudu. Now is precisely the time to curb things at the outset and make an example! Moreover, those who pollute the harem and bewitch the imperial ear also deserve death by beating!”
Li Jianheng’s heart leapt into his throat. “I wouldn’t dare—I wouldn’t dare! With such a worthy minister urging me daily, how could I dare to act recklessly! Those rumors are baseless; Grand Secretary must not take them as truth.”
Hai Liangyi replied coldly, “There is no smoke without fire, Your Majesty. A beautiful face is a calamity—she cannot be kept.”
Li Jianheng was truly afraid. How could he bear to let Mu Ru die? He scrambled to his feet, flustered and wretched. “Grand Secretary, I know my fault. Shuanglu has served me for many years—today you… let it go. From now on I will diligently attend to governance!”
Hai Liangyi kowtowed. In the end, he spared Li Jianheng’s face.
Li Jianheng leaned on the table, listening to the blows outside—one after another—as if each landed on his own body. His emotions churned as he looked at Hai Liangyi, feeling both aggrieved and terrified.
When Xiao Chiye entered, servants were splashing water to scrub the floor. Blood stains spread underfoot, vivid red and chilling. The inner palace eunuchs of the Hall of Bright Principle all knelt outside, silent, not daring to raise their heads.
Xiao Chiye stepped inside. Li Jianheng sat on the dragon throne like a wooden statue. Seeing Xiao Chiye, he froze—then suddenly wailed, bursting into tears.
Crying as he smashed things, Li Jianheng shouted, “What kind of emperor is this, to be pointed at and humiliated like this? All under Heaven belongs to me! I dote on a woman—what’s wrong with that? What’s wrong with that!”