After Su Jin left the palace, she settled the several witnesses at the capital’s government office. By the time she returned to her residence, it was already the hour of Hai.

This was a day of melting snow. What little warmth remained during daylight had all been absorbed by the accumulated snow, making the night three degrees colder.

She did not return to her room but put on an outer garment and sat down in the corridor. She recalled the words spoken by the palace servant who had come to greet her at Zhengwu Gate—”Now it is Minister Liu who is in charge in the palace.”

Eunuchs were most clever. Knowing she had deep friendship with Liu Chaoming, his long, drawn-out voice sounded as if he were announcing good news.

But where was the joy in this?

Su Jin thought that actually, she had always known Liu Chaoming’s beliefs differed from her own. But when he asked her at the old censor’s former residence if she was willing to sail in the dark night, when she knelt before him and pledged her life’s ambition, she had thought that slight difference was merely different paths to the same destination.

But now, why had he seized half the great power of this realm?

Was it merely to counterbalance Zhu Zhaowei?

If so, why did he need to set up the plot to be assassinated, going through the trouble of feigning illness? He had known the inside story all along, just keeping it secret. But what was he painstakingly scheming?

Su Jin picked up a dead branch from the side, wanting to imitate Shen Xi’s manner of sketching a few strokes on the ground. But her heart was in chaotic disarray like misty rain. Unconsciously exerting force, the dead branch snapped with a “crack,” sounding particularly startling in this dark night.

She somewhat dejectedly threw down the broken branch, then suddenly thought of Shen Xi, thought of the case of tax grain embezzlement brought by the Denunciation Drum that he had mentioned.

Su Jin felt uneasy. The next day she rose early to visit Qian San’er’s residence. The young servant who answered the door said, “Minister Qian says he has done something unconscionable recently and has gone to the temple to burn incense and recite sutras. He will return when court opens on the fifteenth.”

Su Jin met with a polite rebuff. After thinking it over, she had no choice but to go to the palace. Before reaching the Censorate, she saw Liu Chaoming emerging from the Six Ministries’ offices. He seemed to have some urgent matter—ahead was a procession of palace servants leading the way, behind him a crowd of deferential court officials.

Su Jin hastily stepped aside to bow. Unexpectedly, Liu Chaoming stopped before her and called out coldly, “Su Jin.”

Not Su Shiyu.

“This subordinate is here.”

Liu Chaoming’s gaze looked straight ahead, his tone cold. “As Assistant Censor-in-Chief, do you not even understand palace protocol?”

Su Jin did not know which protocol he was referring to and could only press her lips together in silence.

Someone from the Ministry of Rites reminded her from the side, “Reporting to Minister Su, the Crown Prince has newly died. From today onwards, you should come on duty wearing green robes and black sash.”

The Crown Prince had newly died. The death was announced at noon. But she had come today merely to seek out Zhao Yan with a matter, to ask a question and leave.

However, she did not explain further, only acknowledging with “I understand.”

Liu Chaoming said, “When you come tomorrow, remember to change your attire. After court opens, go to Minister Zhao to receive your punishment.”

Su Jin looked at his appearance with attendants clustering before and behind him. For a moment she could not suppress the disappointment and doubt in her heart. Somehow she replied, “Thank you for Minister’s instruction. This subordinate will return home immediately to change attire.”

Liu Chaoming’s voice became three degrees colder. “Then what are you still standing here for?”

How laughable—Su Jin’s set of green robes had originally been prepared for Zhu Jingyuan. Tan Zhaolin’s wife had just finished making them for her two days ago. She never expected that wearing them today would be for Zhu Minda.

By the time Su Jin changed clothes, it was already near noon. Making her way back to the palace, before she even reached Chengtian Gate, she heard the mournful sound of horns carrying from afar on the gate tower—three long blasts followed by one short, repeating three times.

A procession of officers and soldiers dressed in mourning garments rode out from Chengtian Gate on imperial horses, placing plain paper umbrellas before the various residences and manors throughout the capital.

This was a tradition in the Qinhuai area. When people saw such paper umbrellas, they knew someone of imperial blood had died in the palace and would go before Chengtian Gate to view the white announcement.