The door crashed to the ground with a thunderous bang, sending up a cloud of dust. The room inside lay in darkness. Covering his nose and mouth, Fei Sheng stepped across the threshold, searching every corner without missing a single detail.
This had once been the residence of the Prince of Qin. Though it had fallen into disrepair over the years, traces of its former splendor were still visible. Fei Sheng lit the candle he carried, snuffed out the tinder, and headed toward the inner chamber.
“The canopy and bedding are new.” Ge Qingqing lifted the curtain and looked at the bed.
“Someone was living here just a few days ago.” Fei Sheng paused by the table and lifted the lid of the teapot. A residue of tea still clung inside. “Juexi White Horse Prefecture spring tea. It seems Xi Hongxuan did not stint on them.”
When Ge Qingqing inspected the bed, he caught sight of bloodstains. His heart began to pound. He tore away the entire quilt—then staggered back.
A corpse lay hidden beneath, already putrid, livor mortis plainly visible. It had clearly been dead for several days. Holding the candle close, Fei Sheng examined the body.
“He was strangled to death.” Fei Sheng pointed at the throat. “His neck was crushed outright.”
“There’s blood,” Ge Qingqing said. “He was stabbed before he died.”
“More than that—look at the marks on his neck. Two sets. The first attempt did not kill him.” Fei Sheng spoke as he braced the body with his knife and slowly turned it over. “With only the wandering fighters Xi Hongxuan hired, how could they have forced this master to such a state? The livor is normal—no sign of poisoning. The stab wounds on his back are chaotic, clearly the work of someone untrained, slashing wildly. None struck a vital point. That is why they resorted to strangling him. They must have killed him together. I suspect the master was already injured and exhausted. The gentleman likely had no choice but to take up a blade himself.”
The more Ge Qingqing listened, the more alarmed he grew. “If the body was laid out so neatly, does that mean the gentleman and the master were not yet in a panic? As long as—”
“The body might have been arranged by someone else.” Fei Sheng surveyed the room again. “There are no signs of a struggle here. I think the master was wounded and unable to move freely, so he had to rely on the gentleman’s help. But when they were moved again, it certainly was not Xi Hongxuan’s arrangement. Among the fighters he hired, none would dare oppose the Embroidered Uniform Guard for a handful of silver. Whether this corpse was even one of those fighters is still uncertain. If he was not…”
Fei Sheng’s voice stopped short.
He had taken this job for Shen Zechuan because it promised good pay. If this was not a private vendetta, then it touched on court intrigue. He had no intention of entangling himself further, and so he left the latter half unsaid—if the dead man was not a wandering fighter, then only the Inner Palace would have produced such an expert. The corpse might even belong to the Embroidered Uniform Guard themselves.
Ge Qingqing understood his misgivings. The two fell into silence. The room felt haunted; they could not linger here.
Fei Sheng withdrew his knife. “They must still be in Qudu. Every official residence and princely estate has its own guards. High gates closed tight, secret passages within—it would be easy to hide a few people. My apologies. My talents are limited. I can only help Lord Shen as far as this.”
He cupped his fist to Ge Qingqing, retraced his steps, mounted his horse, and rode off to report.
Ge Qingqing remained behind. He noticed the bloodstains trailing onto the floor and followed them on his knees, bracing himself as he peered beneath the bed. It was even darker there. Something lay in the shadows. He reached in and drew it out—ashes. He blew them away. In his palm remained only a scrap of paper no larger than a fingernail.
It was the remnant of Qi Huilian’s journal, not fully burned.
Shen Zechuan rested with his eyes closed, a yellowed scrap of charred paper caught between his fingers. Only a few characters remained upon it, but he recognized them at once.
Qi Huilian’s journal covered many matters—the policy debates they had once discussed together in Zhaozui Temple. Every lesson he had imparted to Shen Zechuan, every secret he had learned while serving as Grand Tutor, was recorded there. During the epidemic, Qiao Tianya had stored it all in the attic, leaving it under Qi Huilian’s personal care.
To prevent information from leaking, Qi Huilian had devised his own method of reading it. Each essay had its own order. If read conventionally, much of it would seem incoherent, like ravings without beginning or end.
But he had burned it. Was it because circumstances forced him—or because he feared his captors might decipher it?
Qiao Tianya leaned against the wall. When Shen Zechuan emerged, he straightened. Shen Zechuan descended the steps swiftly. “Prepare the carriage.”
Seeing that night had already fallen, Qiao Tianya knew their destination. An ordinary carriage rolled out, circled Shenwu Street twice to avoid notice, and arrived at the Mei residence.
“Where is the Marquis?” Shen Zechuan asked upon stepping down.
Ding Tao, seeing his grave expression, did not dare jest. “The Marquis has just gone out to drink with that Master Xue. He will return later. My lord, shall I call him back? It is only a few streets away.”
Xiao Chiye had invited Xue Xiuyi to drink, surely to probe Xue Xiuzhuo’s affairs. The Xue residence was difficult to investigate; someone inside was far more useful than agents groping blindly in the dark.
Shen Zechuan entered the courtyard. “Tell him I am staying here tonight. Let him return after he finishes drinking, but not remain out all night. Also tell him not to hurry. Xue Xiuyi cannot be dismissed lightly.”
As Ding Tao departed, Qiao Tianya followed Shen Zechuan. “Why the sudden urgency?”
“Xi Hongxuan trusted no one—except Xue Xiuzhuo.” Shen Zechuan climbed the steps by lantern light. “When Xi Dan tried to deceive him at the end, he would sooner doubt Xi Dan than Xue Xiuzhuo. In the past he consulted Xue Xiuzhuo on everything. Now that he has seized the gentleman, he would not dare act on his own.”
Before his death, Xi Hongxuan had been certain Shen Zechuan would fail. Why? He must have known something Shen Zechuan did not. Xi Hongxuan’s promotion into the Ministry of Personnel had been at Xue Xiuzhuo’s suggestion. Why had he trusted him so completely?
Shen Zechuan halted.
The Xue family had long since declined. Xi Hongxuan would never take orders from a fallen noble, nor would he yield his loyalty lightly. They had been classmates; their families were distantly related by marriage. But what had Xue Xiuzhuo used to secure Xi Hongxuan’s unwavering trust? Xi Hongxuan valued profit above all—even killing his own elder brother without hesitation. Blood ties alone could not explain it.
An unreasoning anxiety rose within Shen Zechuan. The shadows beneath the eaves seemed like beasts baring their fangs, swallowing half his figure. Tangled clues wound about him like water weeds in the night, binding his limbs, warning him of danger.
When Xiao Chiye returned late, he saw the lamplight still burning within and knew Shen Zechuan was waiting. Chen Yang dismissed the attendants, leaving only their close guards in the courtyard.
Inside, only a single glass lamp glowed. Shen Zechuan sat at a low table reviewing documents, his crown removed, draped in one of Xiao Chiye’s robes—ready for bed.
Xiao Chiye bent over him, pressing close, brushing a kiss against his earlobe. “Leave a note. We can talk in the morning.”
Shen Zechuan gave a soft assent and glanced sideways at him.
Xiao Chiye removed his saber and outer garments, then sat cross-legged beside him.
“Some matters must be discussed face to face,” Shen Zechuan said. “They cannot be explained in a few words.”
Xiao Chiye relaxed at last, undoing his collar. “In order, then. You first, or I?”
Shen Zechuan lifted a hand to help him with the buttons. After a moment’s thought, he said, “I have not sorted my thoughts yet. You go first.”
Xiao Chiye braced an elbow on the table and handed him a ledger. “The group Xue Xiuzhuo bought—the oldest is eighteen, the youngest fourteen. Boys and girls housed together. Their only common trait is that they are all good-looking.”
“From the Eight Great Cities, Zhongbo, Juexi…” Shen Zechuan traced the names. “He did not care about their origins.”
“Perhaps to confuse anyone who tries to trace them.”
Shen Zechuan paused at one name. “Ling Ting… I heard that name at Xiangyun House.”
“They all came from Xiangyun. She favored clever children, so she gave them the surname Ling.”
“What did Xue Xiuyi say tonight?”
“He mentioned something strange. The girls are taught the usual courtesan arts. But the boys attend a proper school. Xue Xiuzhuo hired tutors for them. They sit for examinations like those at the Imperial Academy and even discuss current affairs.”
Shen Zechuan fell silent.
“If he wanted disciples, he could have chosen from respectable families,” Xiao Chiye continued. “Many at the Imperial Academy would gladly study under him. Yet he educates boys bought from a brothel. Even if they excel, their low status bars them from office. What benefit is that to him? Unless he means to cultivate a retinue of private advisers.”
“Xue Xiuzhuo…” Shen Zechuan’s thoughts raced. “If he wished to keep advisers, there were better candidates. We have overlooked something. He was close to Xi Hongxuan. If he wanted courtesan children, Lotus Flower Tower could have supplied them. Yet he spent silver at Xiangyun House. He must have been after someone specific.”
Images flashed through Shen Zechuan’s mind. He remembered details; he forgot nothing.
“So long as one bears the blood of the Li clan, one is an imperial heir.”
Grand Tutor Qi’s words struck like thunder, splitting through Shen Zechuan’s confusion. He knelt upright abruptly, sleeves scattering the papers.
“The late emperor…” He gripped Xiao Chiye’s arm, his voice steadying. “The late emperor reigned over eight years, chronically ill, with few heirs. Only Consort Wei was pregnant. At the Nanlin Hunting Grounds, when the Hua clan rebelled, Hua Siqian dared act because of the child in her womb. But after we returned to the capital, Consort Wei had been thrown into a well. At first I suspected you, then the elder ministers of Hai Liangyi’s faction. To cut off the noble families’ ambitions and ensure Li Jianheng’s succession, they might have struck first. Yet even if Consort Wei carried a child, its sex was unknown. It could not rival Li Jianheng, who already had Libei’s backing. Killing her would have been unnecessary for Hai Liangyi.”
He pressed on. “Before that, during Emperor Guangcheng’s reign, the Crown Prince committed suicide in Zhaozui Temple after the treason case. The imperial grandson was still an infant. If he lived, he would now be twenty-six. But Ji Lei and Shen Wei handled that case. Ji Lei, eager to prove loyalty to Pan Rugui, would never have left such a threat alive. Then the only possible imperial heir left in this world is—”
Xiao Chiye clasped his cold hand. “The oldest is eighteen, the youngest fourteen. If one is truly an imperial heir, the timeline matches only Emperor Guangcheng. After the Eastern Palace was slaughtered in the Yongyi era, for nearly a decade no concubine could bear an heir under the Empress Dowager’s watch. Though Emperor Guangcheng was ill, he was not yet helpless. Unable to shake the Hua family’s control, he must have made arrangements outside the palace.”
“The matter of the hollowed cellar beneath Lotus Flower Tower—besides me, only Xue Xiuzhuo knew. The collapse was meant to kill Li Jianheng. I never understood why. But if he holds an imperial heir…” Shen Zechuan’s unease sharpened. “He killed Consort Wei. Then he sought to kill Li Jianheng.”
“If so, the heir is among them,” Xiao Chiye said.
They faced each other.
“This imperial heir—”
“Cannot be left alive.” Xiao Chiye grasped Shen Zechuan’s chin and drew him close, his gaze deep and resolute. “Lanzhou, not one of them can remain.”
His tone was calm, yet beneath it surged a lethal tide. An imperial heir meant everything would become precarious. Would a noble faction holding such a figure be easily defeated? Recall the Empress Dowager who ruled from behind the curtain for twenty years—the Li clan reduced to puppets, powerful houses rising again, Hai Liangyi pushed back into decline.
A knock sounded suddenly at the door.
“Speak,” Xiao Chiye said.
Qiao Tianya’s voice carried urgency. “My lord, the men sent to pursue Xi Dan overnight have returned.”
Shen Zechuan rose at once and opened the door. In the courtyard, Ge Qingqing knelt on one knee.
“What is it?” Shen Zechuan asked.
“My lord,” Ge Qingqing said hoarsely, “Xi Dan opened the Xi family treasury. It had already been emptied.”
Leaves rustled in the courtyard. Moonlight frosted the ground like thick hoarfrost. In the silence, Shen Zechuan half-turned to Xiao Chiye.
“Second Young Master,” he said softly, “we have been led in circles.”