The afternoon sun slanted through the window and fell squarely across the bed, where little Tuotuo slept soundly, his slumber achingly sweet to behold.
His small cheeks were rosy and flushed, bathed in the warm light, like a perfectly ripened peach.
Gao Xining had not left the child’s side for two days — two days of barely suppressed dread.
This was the first time in her life she had nearly refused to sleep, convinced that the moment she closed her eyes, even for a moment, something terrible would befall little Tuotuo.
Fortunately, Li Chi had asked Shen Rujian to give her a calming draught, and she had finally slept a decent stretch. The instant she woke, her eyes flew to the child.
Li Chi stood beside her in silence, watching her the way she watched the child — quietly, without a word.
“Will you find out who did it?”
Gao Xining asked suddenly.
Li Chi gave a small nod. “We’re close.”
“Is it Xu Ji?”
“At the moment it doesn’t appear so. It seems someone from outside got in — but who, and what they’re after, I still can’t see clearly.”
“Outside… someone we failed to root out before?”
Li Chi shook his head. “Still not clear. Give me a few more days.”
Gao Xining rose and wrapped her arms around Li Chi’s waist. “Don’t push yourself so hard. The child is all right. I am all right.”
“But you almost weren’t,” Li Chi said.
Gao Xining pressed her cheek against his chest. “This is the price of becoming Emperor — it was never a question of you failing. If anyone is to blame, it is all of us, for not being careful enough.”
Li Chi bent and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Then this time, I will be careful enough.”
—
An hour later, along the covered walkway of the Imperial Garden, Zhang Tang followed Li Chi, speaking as they walked.
“Your Majesty, when Xu Ji was in Shu Prefecture, he made one visit to Mount Canglan — specifically to meet someone. The man appears to be a monk.”
“Send someone to Shu to investigate — no, I can’t wait that long,” Li Chi said. “Find another way. Find out exactly who this monk is.”
Zhang Tang bowed. “Your servant has already set that in motion.”
“They made a move against the Empress. Against the Imperial Prince.”
Li Chi turned to Zhang Tang. “So you understand what I mean when I say find a way?”
“By any means necessary,” Zhang Tang answered.
Li Chi nodded. “Go.”
Zhang Tang bowed again and turned away at a swift pace. Truthfully, the killing intent burning in Zhang Tang’s chest was no less fierce than the Emperor’s own. These people had grown audacious beyond all measure. Without blood, the fury could not be quenched.
—
At the same time, in the capital Chang’an, outside the residence of Xu Ji.
Yu Hongyi turned back into the alley and looked at Mister Ye. “Something is off. Before, when Xu Ji was occupied with court business, he would often go three or four days without coming home. Now he returns every single night, no matter how late.”
Mister Ye nodded. “Tonight I’ll slip inside and have a look.”
“Sir, let me go instead,” Yu Hongyi said.
Mister Ye shook his head. “You and the others hold the perimeter and be ready to assist. If nothing is wrong I’ll come back out. If something is wrong…” He paused. “Then we’ll have cause to storm the Chancellor’s residence outright.”
Yu Hongyi nodded. “I’ll go back and get the men ready. Sir, go in at the third watch. If you haven’t returned within two hours, I’ll lead the men in.”
Mister Ye made a sound of assent, glanced around the street, then said: “Xu Ji must have recruited many people while he was in Shu. The only ones who would still dare show themselves now are likely Shu’s underworld figures — the ones suppressed when Young Lord Cao Lie swept through. There are plenty of them who could be used by Xu Ji.”
Yu Hongyi understood immediately. “When I get back I’ll have someone check carefully how many people entered with travel documents issued by Shu Prefecture, around the time Xu Ji returned to Chang’an.”
“Also,” Mister Ye said, “if this is indeed connected to Xu Ji — His Majesty says there’s no need to wait any longer.”
Yu Hongyi gave a firm nod. “Understood.”
—
Deep in the night, Xu Ji’s carriage came to a stop at his gate. He stepped down and exhaled a long breath, then glanced around him.
In the old days he would have simply ridden straight into the rear courtyard. These past few nights he had been stepping out at the front gate — and there was deliberate meaning in that.
He knew perfectly well how many pairs of eyes were watching from beyond his walls. The reason he got out at the gate was because it was Cangjie’s scheme.
In the past, when court business kept him late into the night, he would not bother coming home at all. Now, by returning every single night, he was making sure his watchers could see him.
And Cangjie had told him: over the next two nights, someone would almost certainly enter his residence — and he was to be ready to perform.
Xu Ji knew well enough how formidable Cangjie was. Once, he had thought having such a man as an ally would be nothing but a blessing.
Now even he had grown wary of Cangjie.
The man’s mind, his stratagems, his personal martial ability — all of it had exceeded Xu Ji’s earlier assessment. And so Cangjie had become a thorn lodged somewhere behind Xu Ji’s ribs.
Xu Ji found himself thinking: if the plan to poison the Emperor actually succeeded, he would have to move against Cangjie at once.
This man had once commanded all of Daxing City, and his sudden departure from the capital when the Chu dynasty crumbled — perhaps it wasn’t simply because Chu could no longer hold out. Xu Ji was too shrewd to believe that.
He was beginning to wonder whether Cangjie had another identity altogether, and whether this deliberate approach had concealed an even deeper and more dangerous design.
But the plan had come this far. Xu Ji could only press on and watch. He could not afford any more missteps.
Maybe it was the things Cangjie had said, but Xu Ji had begun to feel, in the unseen spaces around him, the presence of countless ghost-like shadows always at his heels.
It was an unpleasant feeling. He half expected that at any moment something would come lunging out of the dark and close around his throat — and that would simply be the end of him.
—
Back in his study, Xu Ji followed Cangjie’s instructions and sent a servant to fetch the required item from the rear of the house.
In that very moment, Mister Ye was watching him from the darkness.
And in that same moment, roughly twenty *zhang* away, concealed in another patch of shadow, Cangjie was watching Mister Ye.
He had detected Mister Ye the moment the man entered Xu Ji’s compound. He was somewhat surprised by the level of skill on display — he had known that a founding emperor’s inner circle would be full of formidable figures, but he was also a man of considerable arrogance, so he had not been excessively worried.
Mister Ye’s lightness technique, however, gave him a genuine sense of danger, and so he kept his distance.
When Xu Ji’s servant turned and headed toward the rear courtyard, Cangjie watched Mister Ye follow quietly from a distance, and felt a private relief. *This should work out.*
—
In the rear courtyard of Xu Ji’s grand residence, several rooms still had their lamps burning. It was past the third watch, and the courtyard had grown so still that even footsteps seemed to ring out.
Mister Ye moved like a drifting cloud — without sound or shadow — trailing behind the servant.
He wanted to know why Xu Ji came home every night, no matter how late.
The servant entered one of the lit rooms. “Is the thing the Master asked for ready?”
From inside came an answer: “All ready. When you bring it to the Master, take care — this pill is extraordinarily difficult to refine. At most one can be made each day.”
The servant acknowledged this, received the small lacquered box with both hands, and hurried back toward the front of the house.
Mister Ye did not follow him back. He wanted to know what was wrong with these rooms.
From a distance, by the light of the lamps, Mister Ye made out the figure of a middle-aged man dressed in black monk’s robes.
The man seemed to be the sole occupant of these rooms — and both in front and behind, there were people standing silent guard in the darkness.
The window was open. Mister Ye watched the man return to the inner room and begin methodically sorting medicinal ingredients. He watched for a good while. The man worked with unbroken attentiveness; it was clear his requirements for the proportions of each ingredient were exacting in the extreme.
Mister Ye felt something suspicious about all of this, and decided to leave and inform Yu Hongyi that the moment was not yet right to act — if he delayed much longer, Yu Hongyi might lead the Black Cavalry in a frontal assault on the Chancellor’s residence.
—
Early the next morning, in the Imperial Garden.
Gui Yuanshu came racing from Chang’an to request an audience with Li Chi. He waited only a moment before Ding Qing’an came to tell him that His Majesty was already waiting.
In the study, Li Chi looked at Gui Yuanshu. “You came in such a hurry — what is so urgent?”
“Yesterday, Zhang Tang sent someone to ask me whether I knew of any particularly remarkable monk,” Gui Yuanshu said. He met Li Chi’s eyes. “Your Majesty, I do know of one.”
Because the Chu royal family had placed great faith in Western Region Chan Buddhism, during Chu’s years of glory Chan had flourished extraordinarily throughout the Central Plains — and in Daxing City, the Chu capital, Chan temples had been especially splendid.
“Your Majesty, there was once a monk in Daxing City whose dharma name was Wuming. He was a man of real ability — even members of the imperial family sought him out.”
“What sort of ability?” Li Chi asked.
“Rumor had it that his mastery of medicine was unparalleled — that he could refine pills capable of restoring youth. In those days, many concubines in the Chu palace sought him out in secret, and many wives of high officials and nobles made regular visits to see him.”
Li Chi’s brow furrowed slightly.
This kind of story sounded plausible enough — but in most cases it was nothing more than a charlatan’s trick.
“What became of him?”
“I’m not certain, but at the time, just as Yang Jing had newly ascended the throne, Wuming left Daxing City.”
Gui Yuanshu looked at Li Chi. “He had come to Daxing from Shu Prefecture, so my suspicion is that he likely returned to Shu.”
—
It was at this moment that Mister Ye arrived.
He had set out at first light and come directly to the Imperial Garden, to report to Li Chi what he had observed the night before.
When Li Chi and Gui Yuanshu had heard Mister Ye’s account of what he had seen, Gui Yuanshu became even more convinced that the black-robed monk was Wuming.
“When you were in Daxing City, did you ever see this Wuming?” Li Chi asked.
“Twice,” Gui Yuanshu answered.
Li Chi was silent for a moment, then said: “You and Mister Ye handle this together. Watch to see whether that man ever leaves Xu Ji’s residence. If he does, take him outside the compound.”
Gui Yuanshu and Mister Ye bowed together. “By Your Majesty’s command.”
—
At the same time, in the imperial complex, Xu Ji had returned to his office in the Weiyang Palace.
When the capital was first being established, a row of chambers on the eastern side of the Taiji Hall in Weiyang had been specially set aside for the chief ministers of court, to make it easier for them to consult the Emperor.
Xu Ji entered, sat down, and dismissed all the attendants. Then he looked at the “servant” who had come in with him.
“Your boldness is growing,” Xu Ji said.
The man disguised as a servant — Cangjie — smiled. “Only the bold understand: the very place your enemy believes to be safest is where no one looks.”
“Why have you followed me here? What is it you wanted to say?”
“Your residence is not safe, and the roads are being watched,” Cangjie replied, settling himself into a seat. “Only here, inside the Weiyang Palace, are there fewer eyes near you.” He looked directly at Xu Ji. “I only wanted you to understand: the plan is more than halfway complete. You must hold steady.”
Xu Ji studied him. “There’s nothing unsteady about me. If anything unsettles me, it is you.”
Cangjie smiled. “Trust me, Master — very soon, I will put your mind at ease.”
As he said this, his smile seemed to deepen with some private, layered meaning.
—