The two conversed by candlelight, but before they could finish their talk, they suddenly heard the harsh, grating braying of a donkey from the stable below.

Usually it was Wei Xun who tended to that skinny donkey, but after his disappearance, no one had the heart to care for it these past two days. With its feed coming irregularly—sometimes hungry, sometimes full—it had long been discontented. The donkey’s cry pierced through the quiet night, immediately followed by a man’s pained “Ow, ow, ow!” cry.

Bao Zhu immediately silenced Shisan Lang, grabbed her bow, opened the window, nocked an arrow and aimed at the stable below. The man had been viciously kicked by the donkey and fled from the stable clutching his head like a startled rat. Then came a whoosh of cold wind above his head as a feathered arrow shot straight through his cap, sticking in his topknot like an extraordinarily long hairpin.

Still in shock, he touched the cold arrow atop his head and looked up to see a woman with a bow aimed at him from a second-floor window. If the arrow had been two inches lower, he would have lost at least one eye—this was literally showing mercy with a generous hand.

The strange man clutched his ribs where the donkey had kicked him, enduring the pain as he called out softly: “Please show mercy! Young Master Little Fox sent me to see how Miss Zhu is faring!”

This coded phrase struck Bao Zhu like lightning, her heart immediately racing like a startled horse, completely disrupting the breathing rhythm of her bow-holding stance. Her elder brother Li Yuanying’s childhood name was indeed Little Fox, and no one outside the palace knew her given name. Nearly a month had passed, and she never expected to hear words related to her past in such circumstances.

Bao Zhu struggled to control her excitement, lowering her voice to instruct Shisan Lang: “Go open the door and bring him up!”

Shisan Lang exclaimed in alarm: “But he’s a stranger! I might not be able to…”

“Everyone I’ve met today has been a stranger to me! One more won’t matter!”

Bao Zhu urged him repeatedly, so Shisan Lang had no choice but to take his stick and go downstairs.

This night was proving far from peaceful. After Huo Qi’s departure, now came this strange man covered in horse dung and donkey droppings. Shisan Lang reluctantly escorted him to the second floor. By candlelight, they could see this middle-aged man was about forty, dressed as a merchant, with a refined, fair face sporting three thin whiskers. Having been kicked by the donkey and forced to climb stairs, his face was twisted in pain.

When the innkeeper came out to investigate, Shisan Lang quickly claimed he’d been kicked while adding night feed for the donkey, which explained the noise, successfully sending the man back to his room.

Once the two entered the room, Bao Zhu still held her bow ready, sternly demanding: “What you said just now—say it again!”

The man glanced at Shisan Lang but didn’t speak. Instead, he pulled from his robes a booklet folded into a strip and a small silver pouch, respectfully presenting them with both hands for Bao Zhu’s inspection.

Bao Zhu could barely grip her bowstring. The pouch was an official fish bag worn by officials as proof of identity, containing a fish tally. She hung the bow on her elbow and with trembling hands accepted the booklet, opening it to reveal official yellow rattan paper used exclusively for court documents. Stamped with the Ministry of Personnel’s official seal, it clearly stated the official’s name as Yang Xingjian, a sixth-rank advisor to a prince’s mansion. The silver fish bag was a status symbol worn by officials of fifth rank and above; its bestowal across ranks represented extraordinary trust and favor.

The man knelt and performed the grand kowtow, softly calling: “May Miss Zhu be well! Young Master Little Fox sent me!”

Hearing these words, Bao Zhu felt a surge of warmth rise to her chest. With tears in her voice, she asked: “Who are you? Does elder brother know I didn’t die?”

The middle-aged man still watched Shisan Lang warily, unwilling to speak. He maintained an upright kneeling posture with hands properly placed on his knees, his bearing dignified and solemn—the very image of a virtuous scholar, in stark contrast to his filthy, bedraggled appearance.

Bao Zhu immediately commanded: “This little monk already knows my true identity. Speak freely!”

Only then did the man reply solemnly: “Your subject Yang Xingjian, serving as chief clerk of Prince Shao’s mansion. His Highness, stationed in Youzhou, was devastated upon hearing the terrible news of Your Highness’s death. Grief-stricken and unable to eat or sleep, he refused to believe you died suddenly of illness. His Highness bestowed this silver fish bag and commanded your subject to conceal my identity and travel to Chang’an to investigate the true cause of your death.”

Bao Zhu burst into tears, and Yang Xingjian also wept with emotion. The two sat facing each other, both deeply moved.

Bao Zhu cried: “Why did you only come now? Have you discovered the cause of my death?”

Yang Xingjian wept: “Your subject is deeply ashamed. All the people Prince Shao had placed around Your Highness were completely eliminated.”

“Elder brother planted spies around me?”

Yang Xingjian wiped his tears and explained: “Before His Highness was wrongfully accused and sent to Youzhou, his only concern was Your Highness. Fearing you too might come to harm, he arranged for informants to constantly receive news of your safety and happiness.”

Bao Zhu’s eyes brimmed with tears as she smiled bitterly: “Elder brother was always cautious, yet I was still harmed. When did you learn I hadn’t died?”

Yang Xingjian drew from his robes a carefully wrapped cloth bundle. Unfolding the cloth revealed a dirty silk shoe adorned with gold and jade inlay, its toe curved upward—exactly the burial shoe worn by the princess at her interment.

“Your subject found no leads in Chang’an, but at Anhua Gate heard a rumor about a deranged woman calling herself Zhu, claiming to be the princess. She sought entry to the city but failed and was led away by family servants.”

Bao Zhu’s face reddened as she admitted: “That was me.”

Yang Xingjian continued: “With no other clues, your subject could only follow this rumor to investigate. Who would have thought I’d discover this shoe buried in roadside mud? This upturned shoe is made of kesi cloud brocade—its color and pattern are not something even wealthy commoners could possess. This aroused your subject’s suspicions.”

Bao Zhu recalled walking from Cuiwei Temple to Chang’an in a daze, removing and discarding the uncomfortable shoes along the way. This man was remarkably thorough to have found that shoe in a farm field.

Women’s shoes and socks were private items not appropriate for strange men to possess. After apologizing, Yang Xingjian respectfully returned the shoe to Bao Zhu.

“Your subject disguised himself as a merchant and walked that road repeatedly for many days, making inquiries, finally discovering Your Highness’s trail. By then Your Highness’s coffin had long been buried. Your subject was shocked beyond measure, nearly losing composure, yet filled with doubts, not daring to reveal myself. I could only secretly follow and observe. Later, seeing Your Highness demonstrate archery skills of hitting targets at a hundred paces, I could finally confirm it was truly you.”

“Since the chief clerk recognized me early on, why wait until tonight to reveal yourself? And why get kicked by the donkey… ahem, why come at such a late hour in the deep of night?”

Yang Xingjian’s expression immediately darkened. He glanced repeatedly at Shisan Lang, stammering and hesitating, his manner growing stranger: “Your subject naturally wanted to immediately reunite with Your Highness, but… but you had been… been abducted by an evil servant. As a weak scholar with no strength to bind a chicken, your subject had no way to rescue you, and could only follow along, waiting for the right moment.”

Finally gritting his teeth to reveal his difficulties, Yang Xingjian recalled the dangers along the way, the battles of wit and courage against villains. Overwhelmed with emotion, he suddenly threw himself to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably.

“That evil servant kept such close watch along the way that your subject could never approach, forcing Your Highness to suffer so many days of grievance. Your subject deserves death ten thousand times over!”

Bao Zhu had been moved to tears, but hearing this explanation left her baffled. She exchanged glances with Shisan Lang, who showed an awkward expression caught between laughter and tears.

She asked: “What evil servant? What abduction?”

Yang Xingjian choked out: “The blue-robed slave leading the donkey! He broke through windows multiple times at night to threaten and intimidate. When your subject refused to speak, he tortured me in every way, even hanging me from a flagpole for an entire night. I tried to write for Prince Shao to send reinforcements, but he nearly seized the letter. Your subject desperately stuffed the paper in my mouth and swallowed it to preserve the secret. Your Highness, please see…”

He pulled open the collar of his round-necked robe, revealing a dark blue-black handprint gripping his neck—clearly a bruise formed from force strong enough to strangle, tightly grasping the throat.

“These past days that evil servant has been nowhere to be seen. After long observation, your subject finally dared come at midnight to reveal myself. Your Highness, please immediately leave this dangerous place with your subject!”

Bao Zhu looked embarrassed, glancing sideways at Shisan Lang, who also appeared uncomfortable, setting down the stick he’d been holding for defense.

This was quite a significant misunderstanding.