When Li Ying’s tomb was damaged, while some called it a natural disaster, the Bureau of Astronomy and Calendar labeled it a man-made calamity.

According to the Director of the Bureau of Astronomy and Calendar, Princess Yong’an’s tomb was damaged because someone had disturbed the princess’s departed soul. The princess had split the stone lions as a warning, signifying her displeasure.

But who had disturbed Princess Yong’an’s soul?

A censor with the surname Jia submitted a memorial accusing Cui Xun, the Junior Minister of the Investigation Bureau, claiming that Cui had bribed minor officials from the Dali Temple and the Department of Palace Attendants to secretly access the princess’s case files and had even taken home the entry and exit records of the Empress Dowager’s attendants from thirty years ago. His schemes were grave, so the answer to who had disturbed Princess Yong’an’s soul was self-evident.

The Empress Dowager and His Majesty were furious and ordered a thorough investigation. Cui Xun was suspended from his duties and forbidden from attending court until the matter was clarified. He understood well that this matter would not be easily resolved.

Li Ying finally understood the source of her unease that day. Someone was using her death to orchestrate Cui Xun’s downfall.

If one spoke of disturbing a departed soul, her soul was right here. It was her soul that had asked Cui Xun to investigate the case, and it was her soul that had requested the case files and entry records. So, how could anyone speak of disturbing a departed soul?

She could hardly imagine that, having been dead for thirty years, she could still become a tool for political enemies to eliminate their opponents.

How sad and lamentable was this?

Within two days, Cui Xun was summoned to the palace.

The investigation had proceeded so quickly, but he wasn’t surprised at all. Men die for wealth, birds for food. The minor officials from the Dali Temple and the Department of Palace Attendants had sold secrets for money, with no loyalty to him. Under torture, they would naturally confess—he had anticipated this.

Li Ying, however, was extremely worried about his summons to the palace. She asked: “Will my mother kill you?”

“Perhaps.”

“This is absurd!” Li Ying protested indignantly. “It was I who asked you to investigate the case. Why would someone use my name to cause you trouble?”

“Because they know you cannot speak,” Cui Xun said quietly. “The dead are the easiest to exploit.”

“I must go find my mother!”

Li Ying took a few steps, then suddenly stopped. How could she find her mother? Her mother couldn’t see her—how could she possibly reach her?

“Never mind,” Cui Xun said. Though facing grave danger, he remained unusually calm. He turned to Li Ying and suddenly bowed deeply: “Princess, I have wronged you, but this matter has nothing to do with Yunting. If I cannot return, I trouble the Princess to find a way to retrieve Yunting’s remains and return them to his family. For this great kindness, Cui Xun would be eternally grateful.”

“I…” Li Ying bit her lip, her feelings incredibly complex at that moment. Though she hated Cui Xun, this time he had indeed gotten into trouble because of her. She could no longer bring herself to say anything that would hurt him. She finally nodded: “I promise you.”

Upon hearing this, Cui Xun smiled slightly. He had always been cold as ice, never revealing emotions on his face, never letting others see what he was thinking. But this smile carried a trace of gratitude: “Thank you, Princess.”

Li Ying watched as he slowly walked toward the Imperial Guards waiting outside the residence. His silhouette was lonely and desolate. The evening sun’s remaining light fell upon him, stretching his shadow on the ground, making him appear even more solitary and alone. At this life-or-death juncture, in all of Chang’an, there wasn’t even a single person who cared about him.

Li Ying couldn’t describe the feeling in her heart. As he stepped out of the courtyard, she suddenly called out: “Cui Xun… you… You should come back alive…”

Cui Xun’s footsteps faltered, but only for a moment. Then he continued toward the Imperial Guards, following them toward an unknown fate.

In Penglai Hall, with its carved pillars and high eaves, incense swirled, and pearl curtains hung low. The Empress Dowager sat behind the pearl curtains, silent for a long time.

Cui Xun prostrated himself on the ground, also saying nothing. After a long while, the Empress Dowager finally gave a cold laugh: “Cui Xun, what do you have to say for yourself?”

Cui Xun remained silent: “Your servant has nothing to say.”

“So you admit to bribing officials from the Dali Temple and the Department of Palace Attendants?”

“Yes.”

Behind the pearl curtains, the Empress Dowager’s tone remained unchanged, only slowly saying: “Cui Xun, are you tired of living?”

“Your servant would not dare.”

“Would not dare? Is there anything you would not dare to do? Knowing that Bright Moon Pearl is my deepest pain, you still use her as a tool for your power plays?”

Cui Xun lowered his eyes, knowing that any defense was useless at this point. He could only say quietly: “Your servant would not dare.”

“Why did you investigate Bright Moon’s case?” The Empress Dowager laughed instead of showing anger. “You even privately accessed the entry and exit records of my attendants? What were you trying to find? Were you trying to discover that I killed Bright Moon Pearl?”

Hearing the last sentence, Cui Xun suddenly looked up, fine beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. He gritted his teeth and kowtowed: “Your servant would not dare.”

“Let me guess what you were trying to do. You wanted to find evidence that I was the killer, then use this to blackmail me, forcing me to give you leverage so you could do whatever you wanted in court. Isn’t that right?”

By the end of her speech, the Empress Dowager was questioning him harshly. In his three years of service to her, Cui Xun had never seen her so angry. Cold sweat rolled down his forehead, along his cheeks, and dripped onto the ebony floor with a crisp sound. He said helplessly, “Your servant would not dare.”

The Empress Dowager sneered: “I never imagined that after raising a dog, I would be bitten by it.”

Cui Xun remained prostrate on the ground, his head lowered deeply, his back trembling slightly. He gritted his teeth: “Your servant knows his crime is unforgivable, but begs the Empress Dowager to spare his life.”

“You don’t want to die?”

“I don’t.”

“If you don’t want to die, why did you commit such treachery against your master?”

Cui Xun couldn’t explain. He could only kowtow: “I beg the Empress Dowager to spare my life. Whether you beat or punish me, I submit entirely to your judgment.”

He kowtowed repeatedly, his forehead striking hard against the solid ebony floor. His jade-like forehead was already swollen, bruised, and bleeding. The Empress Dowager coldly watched the pitifully begging Cui Xun. The Boling Cui clan believed a nobleman could be killed but not humiliated, yet he didn’t resemble a Boling Cui descendant at all. Fearing death, begging for life, kowtowing until his head bled, he was as subservient as a dog. And she, who had ruled as regent for twenty years, had been bitten by such a dog—how laughable.

She finally spoke coldly: “Enough.”

Cui Xun stopped kowtowing. He didn’t dare raise his head, only his body trembled slightly as he awaited the pronouncement of his fate. The Empress Dowager forced words through her teeth: “Cui Xun, you have denied Bright Moon Pearl peace even after death. I truly wish to flay you alive!”

Cui Xun’s heart froze, but the Empress Dowager continued: “However… however…” She paused, seemingly extremely reluctant yet having no choice: “I will still spare your life.”

She commanded sharply: “Come!”

The Imperial Guards entered the hall. The Empress Dowager said through gritted teeth: “Cui Xun has committed insubordination and plotted against the throne. He is to receive one hundred lashes, be stripped of his official position, and serve as a warning to others!”

This punishment was indeed severe. For Cui Xun’s body, one hundred lashes was practically half a death sentence. But Cui Xun seemed relieved. He kowtowed: “Thank you, Empress Dowager.”

When escorted outside Penglai Hall, Cui Xun’s heart had grown calm. He allowed the Imperial Guards to press him onto the punishment bench. Among the Great Zhou’s five punishments—beating with light bamboo, beating with heavy bamboo, penal servitude, exile, and death—the light bamboo beating was the least severe. Yet during punishment, the skin would split and blood would flow. Few criminals could endure the pain without struggling, which was why they were firmly bound to the punishment bench during execution. As the Imperial Guards bound Cui Xun, they despised him and deliberately tied the rough hemp ropes extremely tight, almost cutting into his flesh. But Cui Xun remained quiet without a sound of pain, making the Imperial Guards wonder if they were binding a corpse rather than a living person.

But when the Imperial Guards attempted to remove his upper garment, he suddenly showed signs of life. He struggled slightly and said, “There’s no need.”

The Imperial Guards exchanged glances, and one said, “Junior Minister Cui, this is for your good. If we don’t remove your robe, fabric will mix with blood and flesh during punishment, making treatment afterward doubly painful.”

Cui Xun merely repeated: “There’s no need.”

One of the Imperial Guards, who detested evil, particularly hated small men like Cui Xun. He was about to rebuke him when he saw others shaking their heads at him. Cui Xun had served the Empress Dowager for three years; though she was angry with him now, who knew if she might remember his merits and recall him later? So there was no need to offend him too severely.

Since Cui Xun refused to remove his garment, they did not insist.

But one hundred lashes was the Empress Dowager’s order. They were carrying out the punishment by imperial decree. Even if they unintentionally struck harder, Cui Xun wouldn’t dare complain.

The punishment instrument was made of bamboo, five feet long, half an inch thick at the end, with uneven bamboo joints. When the first lash fell on his back, blood immediately appeared on Cui Xun’s dark crimson official robe. After twenty lashes, his robe was tattered, and Cui Xun was in such pain that cold sweat poured down his face. He bit his tongue tightly, not allowing himself to cry out in pain, as if doing so might restore some of his already meager dignity.

He had bitten through his tongue, and the taste of blood mixed with bitterness gradually spread in his mouth. Cui Xun became dizzy; there was no intact skin left on his back. Each subsequent lash struck the previous wounds, repeatedly tearing open the injuries. His vision gradually blurred, and he unexpectedly began to see visions of the vast desert with its yellow sands, and young men riding horses at full gallop, wielding swords to the ends of the earth, laughing as brightly as the sun and moon. In his ears echoed Li Ying’s clear voice: “Having done so many evil deeds, how will you face the Imperial Guard comrades when you descend to the Yellow Springs?”

Blood from Cui Xun’s bitten tongue trickled from the corner of his mouth as his consciousness faded further. When he descended to the Yellow Springs, would they… still recognize him as a friend?

A bucket of bone-chilling cold water was poured over him. Cui Xun shivered violently and slowly regained consciousness. In his ears, the Imperial Guards said disdainfully: “The Empress Dowager said that Junior Minister Cui must remain conscious during his punishment.”

Cui Xun breathed painfully; his back was a mass of mangled flesh and blood, with wounds deep enough to expose bone. His eyes were hazy, and his face was as pale as paper. The bamboo lath struck his back, each blow heavier than the last. The rough bamboo joints cut into his flesh, and when pulled away, took pieces of flesh with them. Cui Xun bit his tongue fiercely. The blue stone floor was covered with a mixture of sweat, blood, and well water. As he watched the blood meandering across the floor, he seemed to see the blood flowing from the chests of those spirited young men in their desperate battles, so much blood that it nearly dyed the entire Luoyan Ridge red.

He slowly closed his eyes, his face damp with sweat. He endured as the Imperial Guards vented their anger with each lash on his back. His consciousness continued to fade, only to be awakened by cold water, then fade again, repeating this cycle. After what seemed an eternity, the one hundred lashes finally ended.

When the Imperial Guards untied him, Cui Xun’s official robe was completely tattered, his entire back a gruesome mass of flesh and blood, too terrible to look at. He was so weak he could no longer stand. Several minor officials from the Investigation Bureau dared to support him, helping him move step by step toward the palace gates.

But as soon as he took his first step, Cui Xun’s back wounds were pulled, causing him to tremble uncontrollably with pain. Sweat rolled down his forehead as he lowered his head, gritting his teeth to endure the bone-piercing pain. Unexpectedly, he caught sight of a purple official robe.

The third rank wore purple. Cui Xun looked up, and indeed it was Pei Guanyue.

Cui Xun’s official hat had been stripped, his official robe was in tatters, and his entire body was covered in bloodstains. His clothes were soaked through with sweat and water, clinging thinly to his body. Several strands of black hair had escaped his jade crown and hung damply on his snow-white face. Despite his wretched state, upon seeing Pei Guanyue, he endured the excruciating pain to raise his head, straighten his back, and coldly look at Pei Guanyue. Pei Guanyue laughed mockingly, bent down to scoop up a ladle of cold water, and suddenly threw it in Cui Xun’s face.

The minor officials from the Investigation Bureau were stunned: “Minister Pei!”

Pei Guanyue ignored them and said leisurely to Cui Xun, “A drowning dog dares to fight with me?”

The cold water splashed on his face ran down Cui Xun’s swollen and broken forehead, past his glistening eyes, over his bloodless lips, and then down to his scarred shoulders and back. Despite this humiliation, Cui Xun’s expression remained unchanged. He merely laughed coldly through labored breaths: “Then you’d better be careful. Next time, this dog will bite you to death.”

“Hmph.” Pei Guanyue sneered. “A fool’s dream!”

He looked Cui Xun up and down, who appeared as if he’d been dragged out of bloody water: “Look at you. You barely saved your life; you should have been content to be the Empress Dowager’s pet. Instead, you overestimated yourself and opposed me. Now you’re utterly defeated. I want to see how you’ll ever recover from this!”

“Then keep watching,” Cui Xun said, his face deathly pale. Though his voice was weak, it was exceptionally clear: “Just don’t die too soon.”

Pei Guanyue laughed contemptuously. He was over fifty, with a beard like a halberd and an imposing presence. His reputation as an official was incomparably better than Cui Xun’s as a cruel magistrate: “Very well, let’s see which of us dies first.”