Zhu Qing and the others worked tirelessly through the night without their feet touching the ground, investigating all the temples in the capital.

Without a single exception, the final bell strike failed to sound.

To ensure thoroughness, the next day Pei Xiao dragged Xie Zhifei along to personally investigate outside the city.

After a thorough covert investigation, they found the same four words: without a single exception.

Returning to the yamen, Lord Pei ordered Huangqi to brew him a cup of tea. With doors and windows tightly shut, he began to rack his brains writing a memorial.

After struggling all morning, he finally managed to squeeze out five hundred characters. Lord Pei said to Huangqi: This young master has never worked this hard even to squeeze out a shit.

The memorial was submitted, and Pei Xiao waited for the new Emperor to summon him.

He waited three consecutive days, but not even a ghost’s shadow from the palace appeared. Only then did Pei Xiao realize that what Huairen had said wasn’t alarmist talk at all.

The new Emperor didn’t even look at his memorial—truly a case of loving the house and its crow, hating the rest of the household.

Actually, Young Lord Pei had guessed wrong.

His memorial was pressed right on top of the imperial desk, but the new Emperor simply had no time to read it.

The Late Emperor’s coffin would be interred in the imperial mausoleum in just a few days. Inside and outside the palace, all civil and military officials were busy with this great matter, fearing any mishap.

The interrogations at the Embroidered Uniform Guard headquarters continued. Lin Hai and Lin Tao confessed under torture and casually implicated several people.

From these several people, a whole string of others were drawn out. The Embroidered Uniform Guard’s prison cells were packed to overflowing.

Superior officer Zhao Wentu had been tortured until only a breath remained, yet still stubbornly insisted there was no instigator behind him—the bell simply failed to sound, which he saw with his own eyes.

Feng Changxiu couldn’t fathom the new Emperor’s temperament, so he held back from killing the man. All his anger was vented on North Pacification Office’s Cai Si instead.

An official one rank higher can crush you to death.

In his heart, Cai Si dragged out and cursed all eighteen generations of the Feng Family ancestors, but his face remained servile and obsequious, all smiles.

That night, someone arrived uninvited at the Cai residence.

The visitor was none other than Xie Zhifei.

Without saying much, Xie Zhifei pulled out a copied duplicate of Lord Pei’s memorial from his chest.

Cai Si took it and looked down. His pale face filled with incomparable shock and fear.

Even if he died seventeen or eighteen times, he could never have imagined that on that day, the bell in the bell pavilion truly couldn’t sound.

After a long while, he raised his head to look at Xie Zhifei and said in a low voice: “Third Master, why are you helping me?”

“Because Fourth Master once helped me, and also because…”

Xie Zhifei’s peach blossom eyes lifted slightly. “These years, Fourth Master has had to act humble and subservient under Commander Feng—truly not easy.”

These words struck right at the core of Cai Si’s heart.

The Embroidered Uniform Guard—to put it bluntly, it was a miniature imperial court.

Those in superior positions pressed down on and trampled those below, preventing them from usurping power;

Those in inferior positions fought desperately, wanting to climb up by stepping on the corpses of their superiors;

There was no right or wrong, only comparing whose damned heart was more poisonous, whose hand more ruthless.

Under Feng Changxiu were two great generals—one was Cai Si himself, the other was South Pacification Office’s Yang Yijie.

Yang Yijie was the Prince of Han’s man.

With the Prince of Han’s downfall, Yang Yijie’s official career had reached its end. Settling accounts was only a matter of time.

Feng Changxiu feared Cai Si would rise to prominence, so he found ways to vent his anger on him.

Now with Third Master’s information…

Cai Si suppressed the wild joy in his heart, his hands braced on his knees. “In this matter, how should I repay Third Master?”

“Why speak like that?”

Xie Zhifei’s face wore an amiable smile. “Just seeing Fourth Master walk gloriously at the forefront would make my heart very joyful.”

Cai Si looked at the young man before him, momentarily speechless.

This person whom the world saw as a profligate young master could clearly do whatever he wanted relying on His Highness the Crown Prince, yet was remarkably modest—all his capabilities hidden within.

“What’s this ‘Fourth Master, Fourth Master’—that’s too formal.”

He smiled until his eyes became narrow slits. “Zhifei, from now on you should call me Fourth Brother.”

“Fourth Brother!” Xie Zhifei’s face showed an innocent smile.

Passing this information to Cai Si was the result of several days’ consideration.

Feng Changxiu was the Late Emperor’s man. Although the new Emperor employed him, it wouldn’t be for long—merely out of consideration that the Late Emperor’s corpse was still warm.

Since the position of Embroidered Uniform Guard Commander-in-Chief would change hands sooner or later, why couldn’t it change to Cai Si?

Cai Si had been acquainted with him for many years, and their relationship was already quite good, but a path opened with money still lacked something.

Now, having given him such a great favor, their future relationship would be completely different from before.

Not seeking repayment?

Dream on!

For Yan Sanhe’s sake, he wanted to seek much more.

…

The next day, at noon.

A secret letter from the Embroidered Uniform Guard’s North Pacification Office Cai Si was quietly delivered into the hands of the new Emperor’s personal attendant.

The attendant took the opportunity while cleaning the Emperor’s desk to place the secret letter on top of the memorials, pressing it lightly with a paperweight.

Two days later, a massive coffin of golden nanmu wood was carried out from the imperial palace.

Imperial clan members, civil and military officials, monks and Daoist priests followed in a grand procession, escorting the Late Emperor’s coffin all the way to thirty li outside the city gate.

Then the coffin was lifted onto a cart and headed straight for the imperial mausoleum.

On this journey to the imperial mausoleum, everything went exceptionally smoothly. Not only were there no cracking sounds, there wasn’t even a single bump. This made everyone in the funeral procession secretly breathe a sigh of relief.

As the coffin was carried into the imperial mausoleum, Emperor Yonghe Zhao Ji’s life truly settled into dust.

…

The second day after the Late Emperor’s funeral was Qingming Festival.

Qingming required ancestral worship.

Actually, prominent families in the capital generally conducted ancestral worship several days in advance.

The Xie Family’s ancestral graves were far away in Anhui Prefecture. Several years ago, Xie Daozhi had taken his three sons back for a visit and paid to have the ancestral graves repaired.

The capital was half a month’s journey back and forth from Anhui Prefecture, so every year before Qingming, the Xie Family would worship ancestors in their ancestral hall.

This year, because of the mountain collapse, Xie Daozhi was too busy, and his youngest son was nowhere to be seen all day. Only on Qingming day itself did they open the ancestral hall for worship.

When the auspicious hour arrived, father led his three sons in lighting incense and burning paper, kowtowing in worship.

Third Master Xie worshipped the Xie Family ancestors, but in his heart thought of the Zheng Family members.

Another year had passed—he should go up the mountain to see them.

This year he had agreed with Bu Liu to meet at the mountain’s base in the afternoon, then go up the mountain together to worship.

Should he bring Yan Sanhe along?

Better to bring her.

Let Grandfather see the child he desperately protected all those years ago, now grown this tall.

What reason could he find to bring her along?

Or should he do like last time—just bring her along first, damn the consequences?

On Bu Liu’s end, what excuse should he use to fob him off?

If they finished worshipping at the Zheng Family graves, should they then go to Shen Duruo’s grave to visit?

That didn’t seem proper—no excuse!

“Third Son, Third Son…”

“Ah?”

Xie Zhifei gave a start and realized he was still in the kowtowing position. He quickly scrambled up from the prayer cushion.

Xie Daozhi looked at his youngest son’s thin face, about to offer kind words of concern, but his youngest son’s words came first.

“Father, I still have urgent matters at the yamen. I’m leaving first.”

Xie Daozhi watched his hasty retreating back, then turned to look at his eldest son.

The eldest son looked apologetic. “Father, I also have matters and must leave first. My mother-in-law’s first Qingming…”

“Go then!”

Xie Daozhi had a bellyful of fatherly love with nowhere to express it. His gaze fell on his second son. “Today you’re not going anywhere. Stay home properly with me.”

Xie Buhuo smiled slightly.

“Son was planning to accompany Father and Old Ancestor all along.”