Qun Qing handed over the fish tally in her hand.

The fish tally was indeed worn by Shouxi, the eunuch beside the Crown Prince.

Candlelight illuminated Qun Qing’s delicate face: “The Crown Prince sent this subject to help the Minister extract a confession.”

“Even I can’t force him—you think you can make him sign and seal?” Meng Guangshen asked indifferently. “This old man recalls that you, young lady, come from being an embroidery woman of the Lateral Courts. The Crown Prince could give such an order, having you come explore the Ministry of Justice at night?”

His tone carried contempt. Qun Qing only drew a roll of sheepskin from her sleeve and unfolded it for him to see. Inside were rows of slender silvery needles—the sight of them enough to chill one’s courage. Her brows moved slightly. “An embroidery woman’s needles aren’t necessarily only used for embroidery—they have many more uses.”

“How long to obtain the confession?”

“That depends on how much he can endure.”

She carried cold frost about her. Though her expression was calm, it couldn’t hide that her arrival was hasty. The young servants wanted to block her, but Meng Guangshen smiled and raised his sleeve to let her pass.

To him, regardless of her intent it didn’t matter. If she could extract a confession, naturally that was good. But even so, he wouldn’t give her half a word of praise for her merit. From the moment she stepped into this place, the outcome would only be worse, not better.

Inside the door, the smell of blood assailed the nostrils. As soon as Qun Qing entered that dark cell, she heard the sound of people behind her locking the door. They’d locked her in as well. Fine sweat seeped from her palms.

If today’s matter failed, she would drag herself down too.

But regret was meaningless. She raised the candle to search within. This interrogation room was empty and bare, with only a pitch-black coffin standing in the corner.

The moment she saw this coffin, she had some ominous premonition. She set down the candlestick and, expending tremendous effort, opened the coffin lid. Sure enough, she saw Lu Huating curled slightly within, silent and still, his jade-white face already soaked with sweat.

This person most feared closed, dark places. Now suddenly seeing him locked in this coffin actually produced in her a feeling of sympathy for a fellow sufferer. Qun Qing leaned by the coffin, reaching out to test his breath. Feeling a thread-thin breath, her heart relaxed slightly.

By her agent’s instinct, she should immediately use needles to stop the bleeding. She needed to get him out. Just as she touched Lu Huating’s neck, he suddenly opened his eyes.

He looked at Qun Qing’s face with some confusion. Then a pair of blood-stained hands grasped the coffin’s edge. Qun Qing retreated a step. Relying on instinct, he climbed out himself and fell to the ground.

Qun Qing used one hand to lay him flat, the other to draw a needle and roast it over the candle flame before piercing the Zhongdu and Jiaoxin acupoints. Lu Huating suddenly gripped her wrist with force almost enough to crush her. But that hand had no warmth. Qun Qing exerted force and broke free.

—

In the palace’s Purple Auspice Hall, lamps and candles blazed brightly.

Li Huan brought Princess Yan to audience with Emperor Chenming but was blocked outside the door by Zheng Fu.

Upon receiving Juan Su’s report, he’d immediately wanted to enter the palace. Xiao Yunru, seeing she couldn’t stop him, came along with him.

Zheng Fu said, “If it’s about Chancellor Lu’s matter, Your Highness cannot enter now. Consort Lü is currently having an audience with the sage.”

Li Huan heard Consort Lü’s crying from inside. His mood became even more agitated.

Emperor Chenming didn’t summon consorts to attend him at night because his headaches required him to rest his body. At this hour he should have been resting long ago. Only a favored consort like Consort Lü could bypass the announcement and enter the hall directly.

Consort Lü came with disheveled hair for the imperial audience. Upon seeing Emperor Chenming, she knelt down, crying with pear blossoms in the rain: “This subject-consort has an important matter to report to the sage.”

Thinking of Qun Qing’s words, she steadied herself and raised her eyes to look at Emperor Chenming: “This subject-consort must denounce—Chancellor Lu of Prince Yan’s residence attempted to commit improper acts toward this consort.”

Once these words came out, Emperor Chenming’s eyes opened, staring straight at Consort Lü.

That Consort Lü associated with Prince Yan’s residence—actually he’d heard whispers early on. But because of his favor toward Consort Lü, as long as she didn’t go too far, he didn’t bother with it.

And now Consort Lü sobbed: “This subject-consort was confused before. Because Chancellor Lu repeatedly sent gifts to Caiye Palace, his hospitality was difficult to refuse, so this consort showed him a pleasant face. But this subject-consort deeply knows that outer ministers and palace consorts cannot associate. I warned him repeatedly, but Chancellor Lu treated it as wind past his ears. A few days ago, emboldened by wine, he actually entered Caiye Palace, touched—touched this subject-consort’s hand, pulled out this subject-consort’s hairpin, and spoke frivolously to this subject-consort. If not for this subject-consort’s stern resistance, I fear it would have brewed great disaster. This subject-consort’s clothing attendant palace woman Yinzi and Examination Official Qun Qing were nearby—both can serve as witnesses. Because of this matter, this subject-consort has been terrified these recent days. Please punish him, sage.”

An outer minister having relations with a palace consort was no different than a thunderclap in the rear palace. Moreover, Consort Lü and Consort Han were young compared to Emperor Chenming, while Lu Huating had never married.

Looking again at Consort Lü’s swollen red eyes and disheveled hair, Emperor Chenming’s anger could not be quelled. He raised his hand and the purple-gold incense burner on the table smashed to the ground, shattering into pieces. The dozen-plus eunuchs and palace women serving in the hall all knelt down.

At the door, Li Huan trembled all over, his face turning blue-green. He said to Xiao Yunru, “You always say this prince misunderstands Qun Qing—where is there any misunderstanding?!”

Xiao Yunru’s face was also deathly pale. For this shocking turn of events, she was momentarily speechless.

Consort Lü knelt and said, “Please have the sage send Lu Huating to the imperial prison to rectify palace propriety. This consort requests three feet of white silk. Such a thing having happened, I truly have no face to continue living.”

Emperor Chenming glanced at her. Consort Lü had immediately spoken the punishment he was about to voice, which made him find it somewhat strange. But seeing Consort Lü about to seek death, he could only have people stop and comfort her. He then decreed: “Someone come, seize Lu Huating and send him to the imperial prison!”

—

Inside the interrogation room, all was quiet.

Lu Huating’s lashes trembled one flutter after another. The dark prison cell before his eyes constantly overlapped with the green mountains and clear waters in his nightmares.

Before age seven, he was like the other children of Huaiyuan, walking through mountain forests, spearing fish and hunting, living a fisherman’s and woodcutter’s life.

Naturally, what he was most skilled at was still decocting medicine and watching fires. After losing her eldest son, Lu Wan suffered a blow and began to be confined to her sickbed. Her expectations for Lu Huating were merely that he constantly attend at her side and grow up safely.

Mother often said that his father Meng Guangshen served as teacher to several young masters of the Li family precisely to support the family with difficulty. Therefore she was deeply grateful for Li Feng’s rewards, but never spent them, quietly saving frugally to accumulate for him.

Walking the mountain paths carrying a bamboo basket, he never felt he needed any future prospects.

When Meng Guangshen taught Li Xuan and the others, he occasionally stood outside the window to listen.

Li Huan was punished to stand in the outer room and would chat with him, asking him to write assignments in his place. Looking over the assignments he’d written, Li Huan said in surprise, “How do you know everything? Why don’t I know anything?”

Lu Huating only smiled without speaking.

Because these things were very simple to him. If they could be exchanged for silver, all the better.

Later, Meng Guangshen discovered him eavesdropping and came out, placing his hand on his shoulder: “Qilang, your mother cannot be left alone. Father is busy teaching. If you run around again, there’ll be no one to watch your mother’s medicine. If her condition worsens, it will all be because you implicated her. Is that what you want?”

He looked at Meng Guangshen, shook his head, and returned home.

Everyone said his father was a gentle, refined person—including Mother.

He had a different feeling, yet found it difficult to describe. Thus between father and son, they weren’t close.

Meng Guangshen should have felt it too, so he rarely spoke with him, only treating him like a household cat or dog, a blade of grass in the corner.

Later, Lu Wan drew his short-life fortune slip at the temple. Master Zengjia said he was born with an inauspicious star—if he didn’t accumulate virtue and do good deeds, his short-life fate couldn’t be broken, causing his mother endless worry.

Meng Guangshen sent him to the temple to cultivate.

From then on he became Master Zengjia’s disciple. At dawn he would chant sutras and strike bells together with many young monks. At night he would wash Buddha statues’ golden bodies. On ordinary days he would collect the corpses of those who’d starved. Master Zengjia touched his head in blessing, caring for him like a loving father. He too respectfully bowed his head, wearing the sandalwood prayer beads the master gave him on his hand, never removing them.

He’d thought these dull but peaceful days would continue until he came of age and took tonsure, then continue for a long lifetime.

Until the Chu nation fell into wartime chaos. The Li family recruited soldiers and horses, beginning to raise troops everywhere. Because Lu Wan was pregnant and weak, she stayed in the old Huaiyuan residence. He returned home to care for his mother. In that small tiled house, he discovered hidden bricks in the wall corner. Inside was hidden his eldest brother’s bloodstained clothes. Sniffing them, there seemed to be the scent of beast-luring incense.

When Lu Wan woke, he would offer medicine to Mother. When Lu Wan slept, he tapped every inch of wall and floor tile in the house and discovered Meng Guangshen’s study. One or two letters from years of correspondence with a noble daughter of the Xie clan remained, not yet destroyed, revealing Father’s other identity—before leaving Chang’an, he’d already had a marriage agreement with the Xie family.

Cause and effect self-evidently unfolded in his mind.

The underground study concealed a private treasury wealthy enough to rival a nation.

And on the bed, Lu Wan’s belly was swollen. Covering her body was a thin quilt full of patches. On the table were the cheapest medicinal substances. At hand was embroidery cloth used to supplement the household. Hidden under the bed was silver saved for son and husband.

Precisely because Lu Wan was completely unaware of Meng Guangshen’s identity, she became perfect cover. Previously, as wet nurse to Li Xuan and Li Huan, she’d accompanied Madam Li into the palace three times, conversing with Princess Changping and receiving rewards. Princess Changping had never imagined that the Lu family fugitive she sought to the ends of the earth was hiding in the Li household as a teaching master—precisely this young, impoverished wet nurse’s husband.

For now, the only one he could seemingly rely on was his master.

Thus Lu Huating crossed mountains and ridges back to the temple to tell Master Zengjia of this matter.

Master Zengjia poured him a cup of hot tea.

However, when he next awoke, his head felt like splitting. The dark, cramped space before his eyes was almost dizzying. Outside was the sound of sutra chanting in unison, emotionless. He finally realized where he was.

He was in a coffin. And the sounds outside were the transcendence ritual monks performed after each corpse collection.

The answer was simple—Master Zengjia was also Meng Guangshen’s person.

Outside the coffin stood a circle of monks. They pressed their palms together in recitation, their lips opening and closing. From the torches’ roasting they were drenched in sweat, listening to the sounds of beating and struggling coming from within that coffin. Master Zengjia presided over this exorcism ritual. He shed a line of clear tears and threw the torch onto the coffin.

The instant the flames ignited, everyone cried out in alarm.

That burning coffin was actually broken open. That youth climbed out like a ghost. Everywhere he went, people fled. He snapped off broken wooden strips and thrust them upward to pierce Master Zengjia’s throat.

His master was the first person he killed.

That night, flames from the temple reached the sky. The crime of master-murder was great disrespect. He’d already committed it, in order to prevent news reaching Meng Guangshen’s side.

Thinking of Lu Wan, Lu Huating staggered through the snow one deep step, one shallow step back home, only to see Li Huan still in armor, covered in sweat, carrying Lu Wan horizontally, loudly demanding why he’d only just returned.

His mother had already given birth to a younger sister.

The infant was born covered in bruises, with no crying sound, the umbilical cord still connected to the mother’s body.

Lu Wan had clearly experienced both premature birth and difficult labor. Her pale hand hung down. The two cut the umbilical cord. Li Huan with difficulty carried her out the door, mounted a horse and galloped madly toward the medical hall.

Lu Huating silently held his swaddled sister.

Every little while, he would use trembling fingers to test her breath.

That breath grew weaker and weaker, yet Lu Huating could no longer control the horse.

That was the first time his lovesickness poison attacked.

He watched helplessly as his sister slowly lost warmth in his arms.

In the snowy ground, in countless nightmares, the will to live gradually dissipated while hatred gradually thickened. He seemed to remain trapped in that coffin. Even drenched in sweat, using all his strength, he still couldn’t break free. That anxious, oppressive hatred was like a pair of hands choking his throat, drowning him in darkness. Yet moments later, it would suddenly dissipate.

This dream境 had actually changed.

Within that sutra chanting, came the ethereal sound of wind. Wind extinguished the great fire, pushed open the coffin, made heaven’s light reappear. In the gasping breath after surviving catastrophe, he witnessed for the first time the descent of immortal traces from the sutras.

It was a figure wearing a blue-green skirt, walking from the blurred distance to before him, misty and vague, dispersing like wind.

…

Because it had been so long since she’d used acupuncture to save someone, mentally tense, Qun Qing crouched on the ground and pulled out six needles. Sweat had already soaked her lashes.

She saw Lu Huating open his eyes, quietly gazing at her skirt hem, not knowing what he was thinking. He actually raised his hand to lightly stroke her hanging skirt hem, leaving a string of bloodstains on her skirt.

Just as Qun Qing was about to speak, this person suddenly convulsed without warning.

She froze for a moment, realizing—it wasn’t that her acupuncture was mistaken. It was the lovesickness poison attacking.

Qun Qing pressed down on his arm. Lu Huating turned his head away, gripped her wrist in return, and suddenly used force to push her away. This push was extremely forceful—Qun Qing sat directly on the ground, knocking over the candlestick.

Lu Huating had already turned on his side. Qun Qing took out medicine. Just as she touched him, she was again forcefully pushed away by him.

In her urgency, Qun Qing also became angry. Her left hand grasped his neck through his collar, forcibly turning him over. Using her full body weight to press down on him, she gave his right cheek a slap, wanting to wake him up.

The two were extremely close, their rapid breathing overlapping together.

After this slap, Lu Huating actually seemed to truly awaken. He stopped struggling. He tilted his face slightly, his dark eyes made extremely bright by the candlelight looking at her, with some surprise amid his dishevelment.

Qun Qing felt he’d probably never been slapped before.

But at this moment she couldn’t worry about so much. Her left hand pressed him down without release. Half a pill in her palm was already pushed into his mouth. Lu Huating suddenly felt the pill’s neat broken surface.

Cold Fragrance Pill.

It was the remaining half of the Cold Fragrance Pill.

Qun Qing only saw him lower his lashes, almost docilely swallowing the Cold Fragrance Pill. His lips pressed against her palm.

“Are you better?” After a while, Qun Qing asked.

Lu Huating barely propped himself into a sitting position, smiling indifferently: “If you want this person to die, it’s not that easy.”

Unexpectedly, Qun Qing grabbed his collar. Those clear, cold eyes looked at him, calmly saying: “The Cold Fragrance Pill is given to you. Give me that confession where Lin Yujia said I’m an agent.”

Lu Huating still held leverage over her—she needed to seize this opportunity to get it back.