At the sea of roses, Cui Xun said a few more things to Li Ying.
He told her that although the Empress Dowager was not the one who tried to kill her, she must know something about it.
Li Ying frowned: “You mean my mother knows who tried to kill me?”
Cui Xun nodded: “Otherwise, she wouldn’t have stopped me from investigating further.”
“But why would Mother do this?”
“Perhaps the Empress Dowager has difficulties she cannot speak of.”
Confusion filled Li Ying’s eyes. What unspeakable difficulty could cause her mother to prevent the murderer from being exposed?
She did feel a flash of confusion and disappointment toward her mother, but after a moment, she pursed her lips and said: “Mother must have her reasons for doing this. She loves me so much; I shouldn’t doubt her.”
When she trusted someone, she was willing to trust completely without reservation. She said: “If mother doesn’t want to tell me, I’ll investigate myself. I believe that someday I’ll find the truth and reincarn—”
She suddenly stopped speaking. She had meant to say that someday she would find the truth and be reincarnated, but when it came to those last four words, she inexplicably hesitated.
Reincarnation had been her greatest dream for the past thirty years. She was someone who greatly feared loneliness. During her time at Lotus Pond, the endless darkness and deathly silence had nearly driven her mad. There, she had no family, no friends. She could see the palace maids and eunuchs who came to play at Lotus Pond, but no one could see her. She could only face that endless solitude and helplessness by herself.
She didn’t want to remain a wandering ghost anymore. She wanted to be reincarnated soon, to return to the world of the living as soon as possible, but…
Her mind was in turmoil, so she quickened her pace, leaving the sea of flowers behind. Yet her footsteps eventually halted. She turned back to look at Cui Xun. In the third month of spring, he was wrapped in a snow-white fox fur coat, standing amidst the brilliant sea of roses. The sea of flowers, red and dazzling like flames, made him appear even more pale and thin, like a sickly crane. A gust of wind arose, bending the rose branches, and petals danced wildly in the wind. The crimson sea of flowers surged like a tide, resembling the red lotus inferno of hell, swallowing Cui Xun’s entire figure.
Li Ying stared blankly at his gaunt silhouette standing amidst the raging inferno. She opened her mouth, but those four words could not be uttered.
The wind ceased.
Li Ying held the rose that Cui Xun had broken off for her. She looked at him, her feet motionless, her eyes seemingly filled with countless words, as if wanting Cui Xun to walk over. Cui Xun pressed his lips together and slowly walked forward, step by step, leaving that sea of red lotus inferno behind.
He finally reached her side. Li Ying suddenly felt her eyes inexplicably moistening. She quietly lowered her head, her hands overlapping, tucked into her silk sleeves, with the rose hidden in her palm like a treasure.
As she lowered her head, the exposed skin at the nape of her neck was as delicate and smooth as white porcelain. Golden sunlight showered upon her, making her entire being seem to emit a faint holy light. Cui Xun suddenly said, “Just now, it seemed you didn’t finish what you were saying.”
Li Ying was startled. She calmed her emotions, looked up, and said: “No, I finished what I wanted to say.”
Cui Xun didn’t press further. He only said: “I will help you.”
“Help me?”
Cui Xun nodded: “Help you find the truth soon, so you can be reincarnated.”
He had spoken those four words. Li Ying didn’t know if he had said them intentionally or unintentionally. A strange sense of bitterness welled up in her heart. She asked softly: “Cui Xun, do you want me to be reincarnated?”
Cui Xun looked at her crystal-clear eyes. He hesitated for a moment but still nodded and said, “You shouldn’t stay here.”
Li Ying stared at him blankly. His eyes were calm and determined. She shifted her gaze away and said with a hint of disappointment: “I understand.”
Spring, the twentieth year of Longxing.
That spring, the weather was favorable, white egrets flew gracefully, farmers tilled their fields, merchants traveled back and forth, common people lived in peace and prosperity, and the whole nation enjoyed abundance and good health—a picture of peaceful times and a well-governed land.
But perhaps only those in Zichen Hall knew that the struggle between the Cui faction and the Lu faction at court had reached a white-hot intensity. The Cui faction promoted new policies, while the Lu faction sought to abolish them. The two factions attacked each other, seemingly in a fight to the death.
Yet despite the intense conflict, the leaders of the two factions, Cui Songqing and Lu Yumin, still maintained a facade of peace. Neither loved wealth, women, fame, or profit—they were only driven by their ideals. If not for their different principles, they could have been close friends.
Lu Yumin once debated with Cui Songqing at court: “Of all the virtues of a scholar, moral character comes first—this is the first lesson taught to children of the five noble families and seven prestigious clans. These families have passed down their heritage for hundreds of years, with profound cultural accumulation. Their children read classics at three and learn history at five. Their knowledge of both civil and military affairs is beyond question. Having noble families serve as high officials allows for the continuation of traditions and innovation. This benefits both the country and the people greatly.”
Cui Songqing scoffed at this: “Noble families can indeed serve as high officials, but most of them can’t even tell the difference between rice and wheat—how can they possibly understand the hardships of common people? Although those from humble origins may be lowly born, there are still those who aim high and persevere. If a minister’s son always becomes a minister, and a farmer’s son always remains a farmer, the world will become stagnant. The chaos of the Five Barbarians will not be far off.”
The chaos of the Five Barbarians occurred during the Wei and Jin Dynasties, which Lu Yumin praised for their scholarly elegance. Cui Songqing was deliberately using this to mock Lu Yumin. Lu Yumin was so angry that his eyes widened in disbelief. Just as he was about to rebut, an urgent report arrived: the Tujue were in internal turmoil, and their Left Xianwang, Jin Ni, had fled and now entered Great Zhou territory.
Everyone was shocked. Both Cui Songqing and Lu Yumin changed expression, but the gazes of others in court unanimously turned toward Cui Xun, who was quietly standing to one side holding an ivory tablet.
The Vice Minister of the Court of Judicial Review, Lu Huai, first sneered: “This Jin Ni once served as the Captain of the Imperial Hundred Riders Bureau. The late Emperor treated him well, yet he attempted rebellion. After his plot failed, he fled to the Tujue, not only becoming their Left Xianwang but also repeatedly offering strategies and leading the Tujue to invade our borders. Such a traitor who serves two masters even dares to flee back to the Great Zhou? Your Majesty, I request that he be immediately captured and executed by lingchi to vent the hatred of Great Zhou’s officials and people.”
Although Lu Huai was cursing Jin Ni, he glanced meaningfully at Cui Xun, clearly implying something. As Lu Yumin’s nephew, he spoke without restraint, but others lowered their heads, not daring to echo his sentiments. Cui Xun’s eyes remained as calm as a still sea, as if he couldn’t detect Lu Huai’s insinuations.
The Emperor nodded on his dragon throne: “What Minister Lu says is quite right. Order all prefectures and counties to capture Jin Ni. He must be killed as a warning to others!”
With the Emperor’s command, the court officials naturally voiced their agreement in unison. Lu Huai added: “Your Majesty, I believe Jin Ni should be captured alive and sent to the Court of Judicial Review for torture. Perhaps we might even uncover a few more traitors.”
Lu Huai’s words carried obvious implications. Who didn’t know that Cui Xun had once surrendered to the Tujue? Only because there were no witnesses or evidence, and because he firmly denied it, he had escaped being punished for treason. Now with Jin Ni delivering himself to their doorstep, Lu Huai was determined to use this opportunity to deal with Cui Xun as well.
As soon as his words fell, Cui Xun, who was at the center of this storm, remained unchanged in expression. However, the faces of both faction leaders, Cui Songqing and Lu Yumin, turned pale.
After that day when Cui Xun said she shouldn’t stay here, Li Ying felt inexplicably discouraged. She became listless and spiritless. Since Cui Xun wanted her to be reincarnated soon, she also wanted to quickly discover the truth and return to the netherworld.
However, since the Empress Dowager had strictly forbidden Cui Xun from investigating further, Li Ying didn’t want to involve him again. So she thought of investigating the case herself. But she was not a judicial official like Cui Xun and had no idea where to start. She thought that the city’s taverns, with their many people and loose talk, often had storytellers who used ancient tales to satirize current affairs, so perhaps she could hear some news there.
Li Ying therefore headed to the busiest tavern in Chang’an. On the way, she saw crowds of people heading in one direction. Curious, she went over too, only to find officials posting wanted notices.
The portrait showed a man of about sixty with a gloomy face. Li Ying read the name: “Jin Ni?”
This person seemed to be her father’s Captain of the Hundred Riders Bureau. The Hundred Riders Bureau was the predecessor of the Investigation Bureau, specifically responsible for monitoring the activities of officials. The Captain of the Hundred Riders Bureau was similar to Cui Xun’s position as Vice Minister of the Investigation Bureau—both were the heads of the Emperor’s secret investigators. Jin Ni frequently entered the palace to see her father and was considered one of her father’s trusted ministers. She had seen this man several times. Although he appeared respectful, she always felt that his eyes were too filled with ambition and that his intentions were not pure, so she didn’t like him very much.
As Li Ying was recalling these past events, she didn’t notice that she had just brushed past someone wearing a black cloak. The person had a curved sword with a golden scabbard hanging at his waist. When they met, the golden-scabbarded curved sword suddenly flashed with a faint green light.