Chapter 93
“A’Si.” After much deliberation, the unease in Murong Qiufeng’s heart grew stronger, prompting him to summon Huiying.
“What are your orders, Young Master?” Huiying appeared behind him, his wooden tone carrying an unusual hint of emotion, unlike his usual cold and hollow demeanor.
“Have there been any anomalies among the Shadow Guards?” Murong Qiufeng asked. He had brought back some of the Shadow Guards from the prince’s residence. Except for Huiying, the rest were assigned to protect his parents and elder brother. If anything happened, the Shadow Guards would send a signal to Huiying immediately.
“There have been no anomalies, Young Master,” Huiying replied, observing the concern on Murong Qiufeng’s face. After a pause, he added, “If you are uneasy, I can confirm with them.”
Murong Qiufeng stopped, his curiosity piqued. “How will you confirm? Are you going there now?”
Huiying shook his head, a rare flicker of amusement crossing his usually emotionless eyes as he saw Murong Qiufeng’s surprise. He then pulled out a small black flute, about the length of a finger, resembling a miniature version of the prince’s black jade flute.
Huiying placed the flute to his lips and moved his fingers, though no sound was audible. Yet Murong Qiufeng had the odd sensation of hearing a melodious tune.
After a moment, Huiying exhaled softly and said, “There are no abnormalities.”
Murong Qiufeng sighed in relief, his curiosity lingering on the small flute. It must be a means of communication among the Shadow Guards. As an outsider, he refrained from asking further—it was clearly a secret.
Huiying, however, didn’t retreat as he usually did after reporting. “Do you recall the melody you played with His Highness on the black flute before you came to the Prime Minister’s residence?”
“Hm? What about it?” Murong Qiufeng nodded, puzzled.
“That melody is a secret method of communication among the Shadows. Each individual uses a unique tune. The one you played can command all the Shadow Guards. The black flute is effectively their token of leadership.” With that, Huiying vanished, leaving Murong Qiufeng stunned.
Murong Qiufeng pressed his lips together, his expression growing complicated. After a moment’s thought, he shook his head and left, mounting his horse to ride to the temple.
When he arrived, the Prime Minister’s wife was just about to depart.
“Ah, Qiufeng! What brings you here?” The Prime Minister’s wife beamed at her son as he dismounted. Hearing nearby onlookers admiring her son’s elegance, her pride swelled further. My son truly is exceptional.
Murong Qiufeng approached her with a warm smile, his eyes subtly scanning the surroundings. “There was an attack at the residence earlier. I was worried about your safety. I’m glad you’re unharmed.”
“What? An attack?” The Prime Minister’s wife paled, her grip on Murong Qiufeng’s hand tightening.
Murong Qiufeng quickly patted her back to reassure her. “It’s fine. The culprits have been captured. No harm was done, and Father and Elder Brother will handle the rest upon their return.”
“And you? Are you hurt?” She immediately began inspecting him for injuries.
Murong Qiufeng smiled and shook his head. “I’m fine. Were you planning to head back?”
“Yes, but since you’re here…” She suddenly seemed to recall something. “You’ve had such misfortune lately. Let’s pray at the temple for some blessings.” She grabbed his hand and led him into the temple.
Murong Qiufeng sighed helplessly but followed her inside. He dutifully completed the three bows and nine kowtows under her guidance.
“Now, let’s draw a lot! How about one for marriage prospects?” She handed him a bamboo cylinder before he could object.
Murong Qiufeng hesitated, the cylinder in his hand. Hearing her muttering about good matches and extending the family line, his grip tightened. His thoughts wandered to Shangguan Ye, and his chest tightened painfully. Snapping back to reality, his expression darkened, and the cylinder nearly slipped from his grasp. Hastily, he steadied it, only for a lot to fall out.
The Prime Minister’s wife beamed. “Oh, a supreme lot! The Buddha has blessed us indeed. Wait here; I’ll go get it interpreted.”
Murong Qiufeng stared blankly at the lot, suddenly feeling suffocated. He nodded absentmindedly and left the temple, finally able to breathe freely. Deep in his eyes, however, was a glimmer of anticipation he himself didn’t notice.
Behind the giant Buddha statue, a figure watched him leave with a trace of sorrow. Their gaze shifted to the jubilant Prime Minister’s wife, darkening with a mix of regret and resentment.
When Murong Qiufeng returned to the residence, the earlier incident had been handed over to Shangguan Ye and the Prime Minister for resolution.
That night, the heavily guarded residence was eerily quiet—too quiet. Even the chirping of insects was absent.
Murong Qiufeng stood by the window, gazing at the moonlight, his brows furrowed. He couldn’t tell if he was overthinking or being overly sensitive, but a sense of unease gnawed at him, as if something was amiss. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to happen.
“Master, are you still worried?” You Xiang entered, holding an incense burner filled with calming herbs. “With the internal traitors cleared out and the strict security, not even a mosquito could slip in. The Prime Minister and Madam will be safe.”
Murong Qiufeng sighed softly, tilting his head back to massage his temples. The faint, elegant aroma of the incense eased his tension, though the scent felt oddly familiar.
“What is this? It doesn’t smell like ordinary calming herbs.”
You Xiang raised an eyebrow. “Of course. Just a tiny bit of this can replace a whole roomful of calming herbs. It’s called Anhun—a tribute incense. His Highness specifically instructed me to bring it, knowing you’d likely struggle to sleep with all that’s on your mind.”
“A tribute incense? So it’s only available in the palace?” Murong Qiufeng was momentarily stunned, his expression shifting subtly.
You Xiang nodded, not understanding his reaction. “Not just from the palace. As far as I know, the emperor is the only one who uses it regularly.”
Murong Qiufeng’s face turned pale. Unconsciously, he began pacing the room, muttering the word Anhun under his breath.
The scent was familiar—he was certain of it. But it wasn’t something he’d encountered in the palace. Where else could it have been? This sudden realization only deepened the unease in his heart.
Seeing his grave expression, You Xiang grew concerned. Hesitating, she asked, “Master, when you went to the temple to fetch Madam today, did you notice anything unusual?”
Her question was casual, but Murong Qiufeng froze mid-step. He turned to her, his piercing gaze so sharp it made her instinctively take a step back, her heart skipping a beat.
“The temple…” Of course—that’s where it was. “No!” His expression darkened abruptly. He rushed out of the room, but just as he opened the door, sharp screams pierced the air.
Murong Qiufeng’s face drained of all color.
