Between clever people, there were naturally shared thought patterns. Just like right now, as Song Chuyi sat in the carriage listening to Qing Ying’s grim-faced report about the city gates being closed and martial law being imposed, a trace of understanding involuntarily revealed itself in her eyes—they had always worried that the Crown Prince still had moves left to play, and now it seemed they were right. Someone who could maintain such a pretense for so many years couldn’t possibly be that foolish. If he was going to make his move, he absolutely wouldn’t leave any room for others. She lifted the curtain to glance outside and asked Qing Ying: “Although once the city gates close they cannot be reopened, there are exceptions. Yet right now, not even His Highness the Grand Prince’s personal arrival can get the city gates opened.” Her voice gradually lowered: “What’s the reason?”
Qing Ying’s expression grew even grimmer. Unable to suppress her urge to curse the Crown Prince a few times inwardly, she finally let out a bitter snort: “They say His Highness the Crown Prince was attacked—the entire city is under martial law. Right now large numbers of Imperial Guards are out searching everywhere. The city gates have been closed since dusk today, specifically to prevent people from escaping.” Having said this, Qing Ying felt rather puzzled—wasn’t the Crown Prince taking this act a bit too far? An assassination—how did he even come up with that?
Song Chuyi, however, nearly sprang up from her seat immediately. She stared wide-eyed, frozen in place for a moment before asking again: “What did you say? The Crown Prince was attacked? Where did he go today?”
Night was falling fast. In autumn, the sky darkened quickly. Qing Tao lit a candle, covered it with a silk lantern, and poured Song Chuyi another cup of tea.
Qing Ying didn’t have clear details. The city gates couldn’t be opened, Zhou Weizhao and Song Yan had gone up ahead to speak with tonight’s duty commander Luo Tong. She too had heard the news from Qing Zhuo’s mouth—she only knew that something major had happened in the city, that the Crown Prince had been attacked.
Song Chuyi lowered her eyes, her long lashes casting shadows on her eyelids. The wound on her arm still throbbed with dull pain, reminding her of today’s ordeal. Her mind was in complete chaos. Only after quite some time did she manage to sort through the current situation clearly.
The reason she had laid an ambush ahead of time today to lure out the Crown Prince’s men was because she already knew the Crown Prince would very likely seize this opportunity to eliminate her—someone who could become a powerful ally for Zhou Weizhao in the future. The intelligence had come from Lai Chenglong and should have been accurate. In fact, she had indeed successfully drawn out the death warriors the Crown Prince kept, and had even captured one alive. In the future, if nothing went wrong, this living witness would be key to making Empress Dowager Lu make up her mind.
But now, at this moment, why had the Crown Prince suddenly been attacked? And what role did Prince Gong play in all this—was he really just writing a letter to prove his innocence while conveniently sowing discord between the Crown Prince and Zhou Weizhao’s father-son relationship?
Song Chuyi keenly sensed something was wrong—Prince Gong didn’t seem like someone with such magnanimous grace. During the Yangzhou case, right after the Crown Prince had removed quite a few of his people, Prince Gong had dared to go cry poverty before Emperor Jianzhang and Empress Dowager Lu, simultaneously implying that the Crown Prince couldn’t tolerate his brothers. He had successfully gotten the son-loving and soft-hearted Emperor Jianzhang to overlook his meddling in the salt administration and instead focus on the brothers’ discord.
A flash of inspiration struck her mind. She vaguely seemed to grasp some clue, but in the next moment was interrupted by Qing Zhuo’s anxious voice: “Sixth Miss, something’s happened in the city. We can’t get in right now, and Ma San and the others behind us haven’t caught up either. We need to send someone to look for them. I’m afraid we’ll have to impose upon ourselves to spend the night outside the city.”
Ma San and the others were escorting the only living witness from today’s assassination incident. Song Chuyi had deliberately told them to stay at that estate in the suburbs for a few days first before entering the city, precisely because she feared something unexpected might happen. But the estate was just outside the city, not far away. By rights they should have caught up by now, yet there was still no sign of them even at this moment. Song Chuyi felt increasingly that something was wrong. Even her usually calm tone showed fluctuation as she immediately made a decisive order to Qing Ying: “Go fetch His Highness and Fourth Young Master back!”
Qing Ying had never seen her mistress so agitated. Not daring to delay even a moment, she jumped down from the carriage like a swallow to fetch them. Qing Tao sat with Song Chuyi in the carriage, harboring an uneasy heart, nearly frightened sick—the Crown Prince being attacked was an enormous matter. Who knew what was happening in the city right now?
Fortunately, Zhou Weizhao and Song Yan returned quickly. However, the city gate entrance really wasn’t a suitable place for conversation, and moreover, Xiang Mingzi’s carriage was still behind them. After a brief discussion, they decided to wait nearby first—Qing Zhuo and Ming Tai Cui Ting, who had rushed up from behind, had gone to find Ma San. If they went too far away, they feared the others might not be able to find them when they returned.
Song Chuyi first sent Qing Tao to the back to comfort Xiang Mingzi, worried she might be anxious about not being able to enter the city. Only then did she turn with a grave expression to look at the several people standing before her: “I heard the Crown Prince was attacked?”
Zhou Weizhao’s expression was also poor. Like Song Chuyi, his first concern wasn’t the Crown Prince’s injuries or current condition, but rather his worry that this was a play the Crown Prince had staged himself—that he might be using the pretext of being attacked to frame someone.
Mister Qingfeng stroked his beard and shook his head: “In any case, this matter cannot possibly be anything good.”
Saying this, he glanced at the Song siblings and Zhou Weizhao, pursed his lips, and with complete composure sat down on the ground, not caring if it was dirty: “Looking at it from the best angle—if this isn’t a case of the Crown Prince crying thief to frame the Songs and the Cuis or put you all in a trap, then there’s still nothing to be happy about. The reason Sixth Miss and A’Yan escaped disaster from the Crown Prince’s hands today was because having connections in the Imperial Guard helps get things done. So then, Grand Prince, what was it that lured you here?”
He used the word “lured.” Zhou Weizhao’s gaze was piercing. Without evasion, he told him about receiving the letter, then asked: “Is Mister’s meaning that this is very likely a case of the mantis stalking the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind?”
Mister Qingfeng looked up at the Grand Prince and thought with appreciation that His Highness was truly a clever man, quite skilled at glimpsing the whole from a part. He was far more perceptive than his muddle-headed father.
He nodded: “If this isn’t the Crown Prince’s elaborate scheme to kill you all while bringing down the Cui and Song families in the process, then it’s very likely that both you and the Crown Prince are pieces in someone else’s plan. Just as you said, right now you are that mantis.”
Song Yan also immediately understood his teacher’s meaning and asked coldly: “Is your meaning, Mister, that Prince Gong is that oriole?”
Song Chuyi didn’t interject. Mister Qingfeng was right—no matter which possibility it was, there was nothing to be happy about, because no matter which possibility, they could now be said to be in extreme danger. Becoming the fish on someone else’s chopping board—that feeling really couldn’t be called pleasant.