The cloak was too large, slipping down his shoulders. Shen Zechuan caught it, enveloped in warmth, immersed completely in Xiao Chiye’s scent.
Shen Zechuan pulled out a cloth to wipe the cheeks that Xiao Chiye had dampened with his hands, and in the chaotic rain-soaked night, couldn’t resist bringing the cloth close to his face once more.
It all smelled of Xiao Chiye.
Shen Zechuan lowered his gaze for a moment, brushing the cloth with the tip of his nose, and the gloom at the corners of his eyes and brows lifted.
The food box contained gold-and-silver rolls on top, hot medicinal soup below. Lifting the lid released a wave of steam. Preparing a proper hot meal in such a night was no small task—Xiao Chiye had to dash tirelessly to get it there in time and rush back.
Ge Qingqing had intended to bring a cup of tea to Shen Zechuan. Climbing up, she saw him drinking the medicine, paused, then smiled with relief. “Ah, it’s already arranged. Good—I was just thinking of sending someone to fetch some medicine.”
Shen Zechuan drank the medicine, wiped his lips with a finger, and asked, “How far along is the demolition on this street?”
“Just past the Lotus Blossom Tower. The collapsed sections are difficult to clear,” Ge Qingqing said, rolling up her sleeves. “There’s something fishy here.”
“Another unclear account,” Shen Zechuan said, sitting and steadying himself. “Who delivered the emperor out? Only the emperor himself knows. If he won’t speak, this case ends here.”
“It doesn’t seem accidental,” Ge Qingqing observed, looking at the rainy night and then at Shen Zechuan. “East Long Street floods every year, yet the Lotus Blossom Tower collapsed just last night. Any idea who’s behind it?”
Shen Zechuan had pondered this since morning. The collapse erased all traces inside the Lotus Blossom Tower—definitely not by chance. Xi Hongxuan was cautious with his life; he had recently renovated the tower, and few knew what had been dug beneath it.
Shen Zechuan stared into the rainy night, as if telling himself: “Stay calm. There will be further moves. I still don’t know who this is aimed at.”
In the bedchamber, the imperial physicians stepped back, bowing to the Empress Dowager. Behind the curtain, she leaned in to inquire about Li Jianheng. The physicians reported in detail; she only relaxed when she heard that the bleeding had stopped.
“This is extraordinary,” the Empress Dowager said, sitting upright. “The emperor leaves the palace, and no one is aware—how can we trust the palace guards?”
The senior ministers below remained silent, heads bowed, statuesque.
“I reside in the inner palace and should not meddle in politics,” the Empress Dowager continued, “yet this concerns the emperor’s safety again. As a mother, I grieve until my hair turns white and tears run dry. How can I endure such shocks? Gentlemen, this time, I demand an explanation!”
Pan Xiangjie tensed upon hearing this.
Kong Qiu paused, then said: “The palace guards, even if they tried, may not have stopped the emperor. In my view, Xi Hongxuan should be severely punished! Had he not lured the emperor with those foreign demons, how could the emperor have left?”
“Indeed,” Wei Huaigu, Minister of Revenue, said. He was the elder brother of Wei Huaixing, who had previously criticized Xiao Chiye. Usually silent, he spoke now: “Xi Hongxuan deserves punishment, but not death. The Ministry of Works should be held accountable—the repair and maintenance of Qudu falls under their jurisdiction. Minister Pan, how did the official channels become blocked like this?”
Pan Xiangjie, sensing Wei Huaigu was deflecting, immediately knelt and said: “May the Empress Dowager and the emperor judge! The Ministry of Works reported the blocked channels during the Xiande reign, requesting funds from the Ministry of Revenue for repairs. The Ministry delayed. How could we act? This isn’t a minor task!”
Wei Huaigu remained calm. He was far more formidable than Wei Huaixing. “Our Ministry must go through the Cabinet to disburse funds. At the time, Elder Hua did not approve; who dared act alone? Furthermore, Qudu had to clean up six prefectures in Zhongbo; the treasury was nearly empty. We had no choice.”
“All face difficulties,” Pan Xiangjie said. “Why blame the Ministry of Works alone? Left Censor Cen Xunyi would impeach the Ministry for negligence, claiming the embankments of the Kailing River weren’t solid. Yet did it collapse? No. This proves the work was thorough. Had there been funds, we would have cleared the channels already.”
The Ministry of Revenue denied responsibility, the Ministry of Works would not shoulder it—both comprised elders of the Eight Great Families. No one would yield; they stood there passing blame.
Kong Qiu nearly sneered. Born of humble origins, elevated by Hai Liangyi, he could work with nobles but not share their mindset. Watching them squabble, he felt disgusted.
Indeed, the Ministry of Works had reported—but by minor officials, not heads of department. Pan Xiangjie neglected it; had he taken it seriously, he would have pursued it with the Ministry of Revenue. The latter knew—but Wei Huaigu and Hua Siqian were relatives; their recent estrangement didn’t negate influence. Wei Huaigu had the means and could discuss policy with Hua Siqian, yet never did. The matter was left unresolved; flooding was “just bad luck” for them.
The Empress Dowager, seated behind the curtain, clearly saw all their thoughts. Hua Xiangyi stood behind, listening attentively.
Hai Liangyi finally coughed, covering his mouth with a cloth: “Cabinet records once mentioned this. Only once. Afterwards, no one followed up. Now it collapsed, everyone remembers, but has the water risen before this year? Last spring? The spring before? Did the Ministry of Works report?”
Pan Xiangjie averted his gaze, remorseful: “As the prime minister said… it was our negligence, but now clearing the channels is urgent.”
“The Ministry of Revenue also allocated funds to the disaster victims,” Wei Huaigu said. “Accountability can wait until after the channels are cleared. Are the Eight Battalions digging now?”
Minister of War Chen Zhen answered succinctly: “It’s the Imperial Guards. Governor Xiao is still in the water.”
The Empress Dowager was about to speak when a palace maid rushed out, kneeling. “Your Majesty, the emperor has suddenly developed a fever, with red rashes all over his back!”
The Empress Dowager sprang up, shocked: “What?”
Hai Liangyi bent over, coughing violently; Hua Xiangyi steadied the Empress Dowager. Quick decision: “Send the imperial physicians! Support the Elder Governor immediately!”
Xi Hongxuan had developed rashes first, noticed by the Eight Battalions’ military physicians, who rushed out to report to Han Jin.
Han Jin wiped his face, startled: “Eczema? Just remove the chill!”
“No, not eczema!” The physician stamped anxiously. “This—this is an epidemic!”
The soldiers in the water paled. Han Jin looked around; the Imperial Guards were still laboring. He waded over, grabbed Chen Yang, shouting: “Governor! Call the Governor, it’s urgent!”
Xiao Chiye pushed aside a broken plank, approached. “What’s the matter?”
Han Jin trembled, wiping dirty water on his clothes. “No demolition! The water can’t be touched! Governor, it’s an epidemic!”
Xiao Chiye’s eyes narrowed. “Who first?”
“Xi Hongxuan,” Han Jin panted. “The emperor—could it be—”
“Bone Jin!” Xiao Chiye ordered immediately. “Rush to the palace and report this to Governor Hai!”
Bone Jin scrambled ashore, ran across rooftops toward the palace gates.
“Take me to Xi Hongxuan,” Xiao Chiye said steadily. “Now!”
Xi Hongxuan’s fever burned; his leg had just been treated, now soaked with sweat, mumbling incoherently.
The military physician wiped his brow: “Two hours ago, he only felt a chill. Medicine reduced the fever. But now… checking just now, the fever worsened! I examined his leg for dressing—it’s covered in red rashes!”
Xiao Chiye looked at the rash. “Confirmed epidemic?”
The physician nodded. “During Yongyi years, such an epidemic occurred in Dancheng, reported to the Imperial Medical Bureau. Governor, the rash spreads with high fever. In one to two hours, the patient may lose consciousness and vomit uncontrollably. I fear other victims among the flood-affected. The Temple of Confession must prepare herbs immediately!”
Han Jin panicked: “How did it start? There must be a cause! How can we keep digging the channels?”
The physician explained: “Winter transitions to spring are damp and cold. Low-lying areas accumulate filth. Houses are crowded, no sunlight—people fall ill easily.”
“So how did he catch it?” Xiao Chiye frowned. “The Lotus Blossom Tower is away from low areas; alleys are cleaned. He didn’t touch filth—only during those few hours of collapse?”
The physician hesitated, wiped sweat, and spoke boldly: “Governor, I speak frankly—the disease likely arose inside the tower before the collapse. Young Master Xi is in this state… the emperor—”
“Governor!” Meng Rui lifted the curtain, serious. “Over ten people collapsed at the Temple of Confession; two from the Ministry of Revenue were down too!”
Xiao Chiye was about to issue orders when Chen Yang, drenched, crashed in: “Master! The tiger (Dantai Hu) has also developed a fever!”
Outside, the rain intensified suddenly, pounding like war drums from all directions, threatening to shatter the dark night.
Xiao Chiye flung the curtain aside. “No time to wait for approval! Go directly to Shénwǔ Street’s apothecaries for medicine. Anyone with chills, fever, vomiting, or exhaustion—escort to the Temple of Confession. Evacuate the others. Ministry personnel must immediately begin preparing medicinal decoctions! Ding Tao!”
“Sir!”
Xiao Chiye grabbed Ding Tao, breathing heavily in the rain, and whispered: “Order Shen Lanzhou to leave immediately!”