Had anyone else seen him like this, they would surely have written ten or twenty verses praising his beauty, but Li Jingyun looked at him and only found it irritating.
“Why are you here?”
Looking up to see him, Shen Zhiluo stopped smiling, his expression returning to composure, saying leisurely: “Invited by the master of this guesthouse to stay for a few days.”
He had settled Yin Huayue here hoping she’d behave herself and stop scheming after him—instead she’d gone and invited an outside man to stay? Li Jingyun’s face darkened, and just as he opened his mouth to demand an explanation, he heard Shen Zhiluo continue: “The master has been away for several days now. If Third Young Master wants to find her, it’ll take some effort.”
She wasn’t here? Li Jingyun glanced around the room, his brow furrowing further: “Where did she go?”
“I’m an outsider here, how would I know the whereabouts of your household’s young mistress?” Shen Zhiluo said unhurriedly. “Five days ago, when I came here with Miss Su, there was already no sign of the young mistress.”
His heart giving a jolt, Li Jingyun stood in place thinking for a moment, then turned and headed outside.
Wen Guzhi followed at his side, glancing at his expression and saying in a low voice: “The young mistress wasn’t at the residence, so Lord Shen came here following the young miss instead—that hardly counts as breaking propriety.”
At a time like this, did he really care about propriety or not? Li Jingyun, his face cold, strode into the back courtyard, calling out the guards that Liu Chenghe had sent over earlier.
These few were among his trusted men—previously, any activity at the guesthouse would have been relayed through Badou. But now Yin Huayue had been missing for five days, and he hadn’t heard the slightest whisper of it.
Before he could even demand an explanation, several guards knelt down at once. The one in the lead, wiping cold sweat from his brow, said: “Please, my lord, search within the palace. We’ve searched everywhere outside the capital, not a single trace.”
Li Jingyun laughed coldly: “And you couldn’t have reported this sooner?”
The leading guard looked up in confusion, then lowered his voice: “We did report it, my lord—the very day the young mistress was taken, we sent word up.”
Taken? Li Jingyun grabbed his collar and yanked him up, frowning: “Repeat that again.”
“Yes.” The man, somewhat flustered, still recounted it word for word. “Five nights ago, someone broke into the guesthouse at night. The dogs didn’t bark, and the young mistress made no sound either, so we didn’t notice. By the time we discovered it the next morning, we sent word to the General’s residence and began searching, but to no avail, so we waited for my lord’s instructions.”
As a result, they had waited several days without receiving any instructions at all.
Li Jingyun listened in silence, his dark pupils filled with menace.
Wen Guzhi stood off to the side, also understanding what had happened. This world was full of people who fawned on those in power and trampled on those beneath—seeing him neglect the young mistress in that place while newly favoring several young ladies at Qifeng Tower, the servants in his household had naturally taken the cue, accepting silver from someone or other, and no longer mentioning the young mistress before him.
No wonder that servant had never managed to become Third Young Master’s trusted confidant in all his years in the East Courtyard—his judgment was simply too poor. With Third Young Master’s contrary nature, if he really dared to mistreat the young mistress like this, there would be a reckoning to pay later.
For now, finding her was the priority. Li Jingyun turned to him: “Go back to the palace and ask around, see if there’s any news of her.”
Wen Guzhi agreed, but couldn’t help asking him one more thing: “If she’s truly caught in the crosshairs of that conflict, what will you do?”
With the various palace factions currently at war with each other, Third Young Master’s whole aim was to stay above the fray, refusing to wade into troubled waters no matter what. If Yin Huayue had really been so imprudent as to get caught up in the struggle between the Eastern and Central Palaces, would the young master protect her or abandon her?
“What else could I do?” Li Jingyun sneered. “If she loves meddling in these affairs, she should have expected the consequences herself. My looking for her is only to be prepared, so as not to be implicated by her—expecting me to risk life and fortune to save her, that’s simply not going to happen.”
Wen Guzhi understood, slowing his pace as he said: “Then there’s no rush—there’s still time to search slowly.”
Li Jingyun glanced at him, his eyes ice-cold.
Not daring to joke further, Wen Guzhi cupped his hands in salute and mounted his horse to return to the palace.
The palace was in an uproar—the Seventh Prince had passed, and the Empress knelt before the throne refusing to rise, bringing several titled ladies along to accuse the Eastern Palace of wanton murder and vicious methods. The scene was one of fierce verbal combat, jade shattering and pearls scattering in the chaos.
Grieving the loss of his son, the Emperor, upon hearing the accusations against the Crown Prince, flew into a rage at once, ordering Zhou Heshuo confined for three months.
At a juncture like this, confinement was tantamount to stripping power—how the court would shift in three months’ time was beyond anyone’s prediction. Zhou Heshuo naturally wouldn’t accept this, striking his head against the pillar until it bled, crying out his grievance with tears and voice both. Consort Yao, naturally wanting to protect her own son, knelt delicately before the hall, and the Emperor too felt some reluctance in his heart.
Seeing the Emperor’s resolve wavering, the Empress grew anxious. Consort Yao always used this tactic, relying on the Emperor’s favor to twist right and wrong. If the Emperor let this pass lightly again, then her son would have died for nothing.
Just as she was worrying, Yin Huayue, standing behind her, suddenly pressed something into her hand.
As one of Li Shoutian’s most trusted stewards, Yin Huayue was the only servant in the entire General’s residence permitted to clean the General’s study. Li Shoutian’s study held many things—letters exchanged with court officials, the household’s account books, each carrying significant weight, but Huayue had never once taken anything out of it.
Only this one item—after learning the truth of Madam Zhuang’s death, Huayue had brought it out without the slightest hesitation.
The General loved calligraphy and landscape paintings, and Consort Yao happened to write a fine hand. She had once written Li Shoutian a long letter, pouring out her longing and sorrow. Consort Yao had a fiery temperament too, and by the end of the letter, she’d scolded Li Shoutian thoroughly. The writing was quite interesting, but between the lines, the affection was impossible to conceal.
At that time, Consort Yao had likely already entered the palace, but had not yet gained favor, buried among a hundred other consorts. Secretly writing a letter to an old lover wasn’t so strange after all—for caution’s sake, she hadn’t even written Li Shoutian’s name, referring to him only as “my dear” throughout the entire letter.
Back then, Consort Yao had also loved Li Shoutian deeply, unwilling to leave behind even the slightest evidence that might implicate him.
She had never expected, however, that Li Shoutian hadn’t burned the letter, but had locked it away in a small box, kept locked for all these years. By the time Huayue discovered it, the rusted lock had already come undone on its own. Opening the letter to read it, she knew at once that some palace consort’s heart lay outside the palace walls.
At the time she’d found it, Huayue hadn’t yet realized which consort had written it, not until the truth of Madam You’s death came to light did she finally understand.
This item, if brought out earlier, might have given the Empress pause—out of concern for the imperial family’s dignity, she might not have reported it. But brought out now, it was a blade laid across Consort Yao’s throat, enough to be fatal, and the Empress would no longer hold back at all.
“Your servant has a matter of grave importance—please, Your Majesty, dismiss those around you, allow your servant to speak privately with Consort Yao.” Closing the letter, the Empress said with a solemn expression toward the throne. “And please, may the two elder lords of the Ancestral Affairs Bureau also remain to hear this.”
With so many people standing in the hall watching the spectacle, the Emperor too was displeased, and with a wave of his hand, agreed, having everyone else withdraw.
The hall doors remained closed for three hours. Huayue’s body couldn’t hold out any longer and went back to the side room to rest first. By evening, she heard the palace maid guarding her whisper: “Something huge has happened—Consort Yao has been demoted to a lesser consort, and the Crown Prince has been confined too. Heaven above in this palace, it seems things are about to change.”
Her tone carried a hint of intimidation, but her eyes were full of poorly concealed delight, which made Huayue smile too: “I should go congratulate Her Highness.”
“What kind of talk is that, Madam? With trouble in the palace, how could our lady possibly call it a cause for celebration?” The maid glanced around cautiously, then couldn’t help but chuckle softly. “One could only call it karma coming full circle.”
Huayue smiled faintly, nodding as she asked: “When can I return to the residence?”
The maid’s eyes darted, and she smiled: “You’ve done a great service this time—why rush to leave? Stay in the palace a while longer, Her Highness won’t treat you poorly.”
“But I’m with child, and staying here to trouble you all really isn’t convenient.” Touching her belly, Huayue smiled apologetically. “Please pass word to Her Highness for me, and let me go back first to nurture the pregnancy. Once my body has recovered, I’ll come back to pay my respects.”
The maid fell silent, thought for a moment, and still said with a forced smile: “Very well, I’ll go relay this for you.”
“Thank you.” Huayue watched her leave, then glanced at the eunuch guarding the door, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly.
This maid left and never returned. Dinner arrived as usual, and Huayue asked two more maids, both of whom urged her to stay and settle in, then left.
And so she understood—she likely wouldn’t be leaving this place so easily.
According to her earlier arrangement with Shen Zhiluo, someone would come at night to help her escape through a hidden passage. But before night even arrived, palace attendants came to take her out.
Without saying where, Huayue naturally refused to move, only clutching her belly and lying on the couch, moaning in pain: “It hurts so much, please, could someone fetch an imperial physician to take a look?”
The maid, somewhat impatient, forced a smile: “Things are busy over there, please come along first, don’t delay receiving Her Highness.”
Cold sweat beading on her forehead, Huayue gripped the redwood frame by the couch, letting the two maids try to support her up, but still not rising.
A eunuch outside poked his head in to look, muttering a curse at the maids under his breath, then stepped forward and, without another word, yanked her up by force. Huayue felt a sharp pain in her arm, her face immediately turning cold, and she instinctively slapped the eunuch.
With a resounding “smack,” the servants in the room all jumped in shock, and no longer caring about appearances, several of them rushed forward to grab her. Huayue’s martial arts foundation was weak, but she did know some lightness skill, and even pregnant and encumbered, she managed to leap over the windowsill and run.
“Catch her!” Shrieks rang out from behind, and the nearby imperial guards all sprang into action.
The palace was heavily guarded at every turn, nowhere near as easy to navigate as the General’s residence. Huayue hadn’t run more than a few steps before she was blocked on the palace path, her lips pale as she leaned against the red wall, her eyes filled with despair.
Dealing with those above her, she could still use wit and tricks, but against this group below, there was truly nothing to be done—only to wait for death.
Watching the long blades of the imperial guards already leveled before her, a voice suddenly sounded from behind.
“Yo, isn’t this the young mistress?”
Huayue startled, looking up to see Wen Guzhi part through the crowd, walking over with a smile: “It hasn’t even been that long—how did you end up here? Third Young Master is still waiting for you over there.”