“Old Master, we’ve been husband and wife for so long—tell me the truth.” Old Madam Song was somewhat anxious, even forgetting to use respectful language: “These matters—His Majesty’s illness, and now these increasingly intense rumors spreading through every street and alley—do you all know what’s going on?”
Otherwise she truly couldn’t understand why the court had taken no action at all, allowing these rumors to spread wider and wider. Rumors could kill—especially at a time like this, with the Tatars about to breach Zijing Pass, Han Zhengqing and Prince Gong eyeing them like tigers, and the court already unstable from disputes between war and peace factions. Now with such rumors starting, what would the generals guarding various passes and strategic points think?
Once these people had any lapses, it would become even more possible for the Tatars and Han Zhengqing to attack. Old Madam Song couldn’t help but furrow her brow. This was truly too risky, really too risky.
Song Chengru took a sip of tea: “Break before building, seek life from death—don’t be anxious.”
“How can I not be anxious?” Old Madam Song, seeing Song Chengru put down his teacup, naturally handed over a handkerchief, then said: “What exactly is Little Yi trying to do this time?”
Emperor Jianzhang’s illness had come far too suddenly, yet it seemed neither Song Chengru nor Song Chuyi were panicked. This very lack of panic could explain some things. Of course she knew Song Chuyi and Song Chengru’s capabilities, but it was precisely because she knew that she was even more alarmed and worried: “You didn’t actually know someone was going to harm His Majesty and still stand by watching without interfering, did you?”
If this were truly the case, then even if they later executed all these people and their nine generations for the crime of harming the sacred body, they themselves wouldn’t come out well either—allowing Emperor Jianzhang to fall into danger just to root out villains, watching Emperor Jianzhang’s life hang in the balance, this wouldn’t be justifiable anywhere.
Song Chengru was about to speak when Yushu outside lifted the curtain to say the Eldest Young Master was seeking an audience. Old Madam Song could only stop speaking and have Yushu lead him in, then told Song Chengru: “I was just going to tell you—Yan will be leaving the day after tomorrow. In these troubled times, I don’t want to hold any banquet. Tomorrow we’ll just have a lively day with the family, consider it a send-off for him.”
“That makes sense.” Song Chengru nodded. Seeing Song Jue enter and finish his greetings, he asked: “Is everything arranged?”
Song Jue nodded in agreement: “We’ve already sent someone to deliver the letter by fast horse. I’ve also received a reply from Master Qingfeng.”
As they had said before, it was still best to have Master Qingfeng go—an old fox cultivated to perfection had skills different from ordinary people. He had already uncovered some clues so quickly, with extremely high efficiency.
Song Chengru raised his eyebrows. His face, which had been somewhat cold these past days, finally showed a smile: “Really? That’s excellent. This way, things are more certain.”
Old Madam Song didn’t know what riddle the two of them were playing. She looked at one, then the other, coughed once and asked them: “What are you talking about? What news has Master Qingfeng sent back?”
As she spoke, she stopped again. Master Qingfeng had gone to Fujian. She suddenly remembered the matter of Lu Chonghua and frowned, asking Song Jue: “Did Little Yi send him?”
Old people always thought more, and connecting all the events together, Old Madam Song sensed something wrong—or was there some hidden truth behind Lu Chonghua’s death?
Song Jue glanced at Song Chengru. Seeing Song Chengru give no indication, he shook his head: “It’s about the Lu family, but…”
Old Madam Song waved her hand to interrupt him and sighed: “At such a critical juncture, how can you still have the mind to care about this…” She thought about it and didn’t continue. How could she not know Song Chuyi’s character? Lu Chonghua could now be considered her friend. When her friend was in difficulty, when had she ever stood by and watched?
Speaking of this, she felt somewhat dispirited: “Forget it, she’s always been this way. If she doesn’t get to the bottom of things, she probably won’t feel at ease either.” The Lu family matter was indeed somewhat suspicious—the attitudes of the reportedly doting Uncle Lu and Aunt Lu were too starkly opposite. Aunt Lu absolutely refused to believe the dead person was Lu Chonghua, because no body had been found, but Uncle Lu seemed to have decided Lu Chonghua was dead and couldn’t wait to hold a funeral for her.
Though she didn’t ask further, her heart still held a bellyful of questions. She resolved to ask carefully when Song Chuyi came tomorrow—tomorrow the family was holding a banquet to send off Song Yan, so Song Chuyi would definitely come.
Song Jue followed Song Chengru out of the courtyard and walked a stretch, stopping under a flower trellis where no one was around to look at him: “Grandfather, did you scold Master Chang today?”
Without waiting for Song Chengru’s answer, he smiled himself: “Are you wondering how the news seems to have spread quite quickly—even I who just returned already know about it?” He smiled again: “I’m afraid it’s already spread everywhere outside too.”
Song Chengru stood with his hands behind his back, looking at a red plum tree before him: “It’s good that it’s spread everywhere. Isn’t it reassuring that news spreads so quickly now?”
Han Zhengqing still had old connections even inside the palace, probably due to borrowing Liangdi Fan’s power over all these years, not to mention their families of high ministers—from the time Zheng Sansi was persuaded to become the head of the peace faction, Song Chengru had already guessed that Han Zhengqing had probably planted spies in their households.
They had hidden quite deep all these years. Thinking this, he continued: “If His Majesty didn’t fall ill, how could we thoroughly root out all these people hiding in the cracks one by one? Too difficult…” He sighed: “To resist foreign aggression, one must first secure internal stability. Only after handling court affairs can we wholeheartedly deal with those Tatars.”
Song Jue also nodded: “So now many things simply can’t be kept secret. A’Yan going to Shu will probably also encounter some trouble.”
“Trouble isn’t frightening.” Song Chengru immediately took up the conversation: “We’re not afraid of trouble. Master Ying is following him.” As he spoke, he hesitated a moment and lowered his voice: “You mentioned not having Cuiting and Mingtai follow—have you thought of a solution?”
The people around Zhou Weizhao now seemed not so trustworthy. They didn’t want to take any risks.
Song Jue’s lips curved in what counted as a smile: “Tomorrow I’ll borrow them from the Crown Grandson for a while.” After finishing, he sighed: “Now the line has been cast out, we just don’t know if these fish will take the bait.”
Song Chengru rolled up his sleeves to avoid getting snow from the plum tree on them, nodded and walked forward: “What’s the rush? They don’t have much time to consider, and besides, these increasingly intense rumors—don’t they prove they’ve already started believing?”
He gave a scornful laugh and continued: “Besides, what’s there not to believe? The poison was prepared by them, the people were found by them—what do they have not to believe?”