The weather in the capital was gradually turning cold, the wind brushing past temples with a chill upon contact. Sitting in the courtyard required wrapping oneself in a thick blanket and holding a cup of hot tea.
Huayue wrapped herself up quite thoroughly, half-reclining on a long bench, quietly listening to Xiaocai talk.
“The third young master seems to be in low spirits lately, often visiting Qifeng Tower. His usual circle hasn’t mentioned anything about palace affairs—only once did I hear Physician Wen say there’s a banquet at the East Palace this month, and he’d need to attend.”
“Mm.” Huayue responded, holding her hot tea and blowing on it, watching the mist curl up before her, drifting off slightly.
She’d been living in this small courtyard for a while now, and it turned out to be more peaceful and comfortable than she’d expected. Li Jingyun hadn’t come to see her, only sending three hundred taels of silver to cover her expenses.
This was the Great Liang custom for keeping a secondary household. It infuriated Shuang Jiang, who kept insisting she should go back and reason with him. Huayue calmed her down for a good while, but she still cried, saying, “You’re pregnant—how are you supposed to manage in this cold, deserted courtyard?”
Looking at her complicated expression through the tears, Huayue really didn’t have the heart to explain that it was precisely in this cold, deserted courtyard that she could finally feel at ease—no longer subject to Li Jingyun’s alternating hot and cold favor, no longer needing to entertain any more thoughts of romantic entanglement.
Following Chang Gui’s plan, Huayue had arranged the men accordingly. But with limited time, his men could only patrol near the East Palace—not proper East Palace guards—and would have to find their own opportunity for the assassination attempt.
The arrangement was made, but she hadn’t put much stock in it. Even with the palace under such tight guard, and even if Chang Gui’s subordinates were as skilled as gods, there was no way they could take Zhou Heshuo’s head. At most, it would create some trouble for Li Jingyun.
Chang Gui had previously said that she was unwilling to act within the palace because of Li Jingyun—that wasn’t quite true. A bad idea was a bad idea; she simply didn’t endorse Chang Gui’s mind, clouded as it was by hatred. But causing trouble seemed like it could work in her favor too.
“It really was just bad luck—the men under him were mismanaged, letting in intruders who wounded the Crown Prince’s concubine,” Wen Guzhi sighed heavily. “Who knows what those people were thinking—Third Young Master manages things so strictly, and someone still dared to smuggle people in.”
Several of them sat together on Qifeng Tower’s terrace, drinking wine and enjoying the breeze. Su Miao sat beside Liu Chenghe, blinking as she asked, “Did the Crown Prince place blame?”
“How could he not? Something happened right in the imperial palace—even His Majesty would hear about it. Even if Third Young Master wasn’t in the palace that day, some share of the blame would still fall on him in the end.” Wen Guzhi frowned, glancing at her. “Has the young lady seen sister-in-law lately?”
Su Miao nodded. “Cousin’s keeping her in the small courtyard. I went to visit once.”
“And—” he asked tentatively, “how is sister-in-law doing?”
“Doing well,” Su Miao said. “Not sure why she suddenly moved to the small courtyard, but her complexion looks good, more radiant than before, actually.”
Wen Guzhi fell silent, a faint darkness flickering in his eyes.
“What are you thinking about now?” Su Miao said, displeased. “Out of everyone at this table, you’re the one with the most on your mind, just like cousin—thinking of something and refusing to say it.”
“Nothing.” Lowering his eyes, Wen Guzhi said, “I just think sister-in-law and Third Young Master seem to have quarreled. He’s been restless for days now, it’s rather worrying to see.”
If it were simply a young couple’s quarrel, that would be fine—but what if there was something else going on beneath the surface?
“Hey, speaking of which, where’s cousin?” Su Miao looked around. “Didn’t we agree to try the new dishes at Qifeng Tower today? Why hasn’t he shown up yet?”
Liu Chenghe sighed. “Everyone’s saying something happened in the palace—how could Third Young Master possibly get away?”
“Just an account to give?” Su Miao wrinkled her nose. “Won’t he be punished?”
“Who can say for certain?” Wen Guzhi shook his head. “The East Palace has had plenty going on lately, and the Crown Prince’s mood hasn’t been good for a while now. But then again, given Third Young Master’s temperament, even if he is punished, he won’t tell us about it. Let’s just drink.”
If she were still by Shen Zhiluo’s side, she’d certainly have heard a few details about the East Palace situation by now. Too bad she was a divorced woman now—cousin would just have to fend for himself.
Shaking her head, Su Miao downed a cup of wine, looking off toward the direction of the imperial palace.
Li Jingyun stood before Zhou Heshuo, already prepared to be reprimanded—after all, the Crown Prince had been dealing with plenty of troubling matters lately, and with a convenient excuse presented to him, venting his frustration would be understandable enough.
Yet, kneeling in half-bow before him, Zhou Heshuo instead smiled and helped him up, showing no blame at all. “It was the fault of those below—making you come all this way for nothing.”
“This subject requests Your Highness grant a few days’ grace. I will surely investigate the assassins’ origins and report back.”
“Ah, no need to trouble yourself. If this grows into a bigger matter and reaches father’s ears, he won’t sleep well again either.” Zhou Heshuo waved his sleeve magnanimously. “I wasn’t harmed, and the assassins have already taken their own lives out of guilt. Leave this to those below—you should rest.”
Such unusual generosity left Li Jingyun somewhat unaccustomed to it, but on second thought, the Crown Prince was currently at a critical time of consolidating power and needed to win people’s hearts. Letting him off easily this once made sense too.
Since he wasn’t pursuing the matter further, Li Jingyun was happy to relax, exchanging a few pleasantries before continuing on to take his leave from the palace.
The hall fell quiet for a moment after he left. Once he was far enough away, the curtain beside the throne was lifted.
Consort Yao, supported by a palace maid’s hand, walked to Zhou Heshuo’s side, watching the direction Li Jingyun had gone, giving a scoffing laugh. “In the end, it was you who misjudged, letting that tiger grow so large it ended up biting you yourself.”
She was speaking of the matter of the Imperial Guards’ military authority. Zhou Heshuo looked somewhat embarrassed, helping her sit in the seat of honor, bowing. “This son was foolish.”
“Li Shoutian’s son—could he really be an easily managed lamp?” Gently touching her phoenix hairpin, Consort Yao said leisurely, “Investigate. See whether he looks down on your East Palace, wanting to hold a blade to your neck, or whether some other little ghost is stirring trouble.”
“This son understands.”
An attempt on one’s life within the palace was like being violently woken from a dream by a knife—even if the blade only struck the pillow and missed the neck, that person could never sleep peacefully again. Zhou Heshuo was suspicious by nature to begin with, and this incident only deepened his suspicion that Li Jingyun might be harboring divided loyalties. He didn’t let Li Jingyun investigate, but instead had Huo Geng thoroughly examine the palace’s guard rotations.
Which patrol unit those assassins belonged to, how they’d gotten in, who had recommended them—all of it was traceable, just requiring some effort. Huo Geng lived up to expectations, and within two days had pieced together the entire chain of events and presented it before him.
Yin Huayue.
Seeing this name again, even someone as slow as Zhou Heshuo should have realized something was wrong—the maid he’d once interrogated, later the young mistress of the General’s residence, had actually been the one who recommended the assassins into the patrol unit.
“Word below has it that these men once saved Madam Yin on Luohua Street, and she wanted to repay the favor, so she introduced them as distant relatives and hosted them for a couple of meals,” Huo Geng said. “Getting them into the patrol unit was also a favor granted by those below wanting to curry favor with her. There’s no evidence proving Madam Yin has anything to do with the assassination attempt itself—this is as far as this one could investigate.”
Zhou Heshuo turned, puzzled, to look at Desheng at his other side. “Didn’t I previously order someone to investigate this Madam Yin’s background?”
“Yes.” Desheng cupped his hands. “But nothing significant turned up. Only that she previously worked in the palace. As for the registry records, those are kept by the Palace Administration Bureau—we can’t access them.”
The Palace Administration Bureau answered to the Empress’s orders, so it would naturally be difficult for his own people to move about there. Zhou Heshuo pondered for a moment, then suddenly stood and headed out.
Difficult for his subordinates, but he could go himself—the Administration Bureau’s people wouldn’t dare be careless with him. Though it seemed beneath his dignity to personally investigate a mere woman, he felt that if he didn’t get to the bottom of it, it would nag at him, never knowing when he might encounter that name again.
The trip turned out not to be for nothing. The registry Yin Huayue had left with the Administration Bureau, though her origin and background seemed seamless, appearing to be an ordinary palace maid—the year she’d entered the palace was extremely early, earlier even than Great Liang’s founding of its capital.
Which meant she too was a remnant of the former dynasty.
Huo Geng went pale with shock, hastily saying, “Your Highness, shall we send people to arrest her?”
With this identity alone, combined with her connection to the assassination attempt on the palace, no further evidence would even be needed to bring her in.
And yet, Zhou Heshuo closed the register and, unexpectedly, put it back exactly as it had been.
“Can’t arrest her.” He said in a deep voice. “She’s pregnant, and the young mistress of the General’s residence besides. Arresting her at this juncture would be picking a fight with Jingyun himself. If it were reported to father, father would only think I’m trying to seize power.”
Indeed so—the East Palace and the Empress’s palace had been locked in scheming against each other for a long time now, and the Emperor was well aware of it, already preferring to favor the Fifth Prince rather than help either side grow more arrogant. With Li Jingyun protecting Madam Yin, so long as Li Jingyun remained in the court, the Crown Prince had no way to move against her openly.
As for secretly. Zhou Heshuo narrowed his eyes. He’d managed to dispose of a Madam Zhuang before—naturally he could dispose of a Madam Yin too. What were women, after all, but ants in his hand, crushed with a single squeeze.
Every day, Huayue had the kitchen brew pregnancy-stabilizing medicine, which she never drank, simply pouring out bowl after bowl, leaving the dregs for Li Yun to play with.
Li Yun had already completed her training and could formally practice medicine now. For some reason, Wen Guzhi had her come stay at the small courtyard to take care of Huayue first. Huayue didn’t mind, following Li Yun’s instructions on medicine every day, and whatever medicine the kitchen sent over, she had it kept aside for inspection.
After examining it for several days in a row, Li Yun finally laughed, tapping her chopsticks against the bowl. “Here it is.”
“Here what is?” Huayue leaned in excitedly.
Shuang Jiang, puzzled, looked curiously at the bowl of medicine. “What’s here?”
“Lung-damaging paste,” Huayue said, smiling as she waved at the medicine bowl. “Long time no see.”
Shuang Jiang: “…”
Truly the saying held—three years a fool from pregnancy.
Li Yun set the medicine bowl aside, curiously asking Huayue, “How did you know there’d be foul play for certain?”
Obviously—what kind of person was Zhou Heshuo? If he was going to play dirty, he’d naturally try the underhanded tricks first, and only after weathering those could one expect to face the more open, aboveboard methods.
But Li Yun was such a simple child—despite putting on adult airs, she was still, at heart, purely innocent. Huayue didn’t have the heart to burden her with these complicated matters, only smiling. “One should never let their guard down. Please keep an eye out for me.”
Nodding as though she understood, more or less, Li Yun went out to collect the dregs from this batch of medicine.
Shuang Jiang asked worriedly, “She can watch over what we eat and drink, but if assassins come, what can this whole courtyard of the weak and infirm possibly do? We should really go back to the General’s residence soon.”
“No need to worry.” Huayue said confidently. “I’ve brought Wangfu over.”