Beneath the dim yellow canopy of sky, rain threads flew slantwise.

Eunuch Liang turned back. Qun Qing lagged behind, occasionally covering her mouth with her sleeve to cough, as if shivering with cold, which inevitably surprised him.

Just now in the hall, how imposing the young woman had been—she’d nearly intimidated him! Who would have thought that after one glance at the silk letter, she’d become this weak?

Had he not witnessed it personally, he couldn’t have believed Lu Huating was this formidable—a mere three lines could shatter someone’s psychological defenses so thoroughly.

“That Palace Academy Scholar called Su Run—is he Siji’s friend?” Eunuch Liang held his whisk horizontally across his sleeve, waiting for her to catch up.

Qun Qing’s lashes trembled: “I don’t know him.”

Still refusing to admit it. Eunuch Liang sneered: “If not for Siji’s guidance, who would have such audacity to block the road outside Changle Gate after court dismissal, publicly embrace Chief Administrator Lu, and demand some explanation from him? Two young men embracing in broad daylight—the civil and military officials nearby were completely stunned.”

Qun Qing’s heart violently shook; for a moment she couldn’t speak.

At her request, Su Run had said he was confident he could detain Lu Huating after court dismissal, preventing him from meeting Prince Yan at Liangyi Hall, facilitating Yang Fu’s assassination.

She’d thought it would be some clever method—she never imagined it would be this kind of method…

She’d considered her relationship with Su Run merely a gentleman’s friendship. That this noble scholar would destroy his own reputation to help her—Qun Qing passed Eunuch Liang a gold bead and asked: “Then what? What happened to Scholar Su?”

“What could happen? He took a kick from Chief Administrator Lu and was dragged away.” Eunuch Liang laughed, smoothly pocketing the gold bead. “Don’t blame Chief Administrator Lu for his extreme reaction. Had he not reacted extremely, wouldn’t that confirm Scholar Su’s words? Siji truly strikes at the heart. Chief Administrator Lu has no wife or concubines. There have long been rumors he favors men like the cruel official Yue Jun of the former dynasty. Cut-sleeve relationships won’t completely ruin one’s reputation, but the problem is that His Highness Prince Yan has trusted Chief Administrator Lu for several years now. Whose reputation were you really trying to damage? It’s not that people haven’t sent entertainers to entangle him before—Chief Administrator Lu has long had methods to deal with that. But having a ninth-rank official entangle him is a first. If not for this, he wouldn’t have been delayed all morning, even missing today’s scripture recitation at Liangyi Hall…”

As Eunuch Liang chattered on, Qun Qing caught only one piece of information: Lu Huating never went to Liangyi Hall at all. She actually smiled slightly.

The poison pearl Qun Qing gave Yang Fu was Miao poison secretly passed down from her mother—the pearl sealed with snake scale glue and adhered inside the nail sheath. Snake scale glue dissolves upon contact with gold. At Liangyi Hall, Yang Fu need only dip her fingernail in Li Huan’s inkstone containing gold leaf to instantly melt the pearl’s glue shell, releasing its contents into the gold ink.

The two would sit at separate desks with a screen between them, each copying scriptures. The poison would volatilize within a quarter-hour. When Li Huan dipped his brush to copy scriptures, it would enter his skin and lungs.

Li Huan was arrogant, far less cautious than Lu Huating. In his heart he considered Princess Bao’an a lamb, which is why during this important period of regency he still frequently met privately with Princess Bao’an. He took every precaution with food and drink—he’d never imagine poison could be in gold ink. The several hours the princess spent alone with Prince Yan were sufficient to accomplish the deed.

Qun Qing thought that at this very moment, the poison had likely already been planted in Li Huan’s body, and couldn’t help feeling a surge of satisfaction.

However, this poison wouldn’t take effect immediately but would lie dormant in the body, slowly devouring the person’s health—this is what her mother had told her back then, though she’d never verified it herself.

She speculated that after inhaling the drug, Prince Yan felt physically unwell and grew suspicious, but finding no evidence, he had the protective guards surround Liangyi Hall and detained Princess Bao’an along with all the hall’s palace servants.

At that time Lu Huating wasn’t even in the hall. In such a short time, verification would be insufficient. This showed that although Lu Huating threatened her with the princess, he actually had no evidence in hand—rather, he wanted to pry evidence from her mouth to convict Yang Fu.

Qun Qing’s panicked heart slowly sank into still water.

She lifted her skirts and stepped into the courtyard, her expression already calm.

It was merely torture, and she’d long since abandoned hope of living—

Eunuch Liang pushed open the door of Jinglian Pavilion.

The contrary wind raised the colored treasure banners high, brushing directly against their faces as if ghosts and spirits sang. Qun Qing closed her eyes and swept aside those banners. Eunuch Liang explained: “Jinglian Pavilion was where the former Chu dynasty’s ruler practiced purification and meditation. Now it’s Chief Administrator Lu’s residence—has Siji met Chief Administrator Lu before?”

Qun Qing shook her head.

Lu Huating was a strategist of Prince Yan’s mansion. Unless Prince Yan brought him into the palace, he couldn’t attend court. Qun Qing had wanted to observe him carefully from the shadows, but opportunities to meet were truly scarce. Only once had she seen his back as he walked out of Chengtian Gate laughing and talking with Prince Yan.

Lu Huating and Prince Yan were similar in height and age. Wearing blue hemp cloth robes and carrying a gold-inlaid dagger, he walked along then suddenly rose on his toes, using his fan handle to fiddle with green fruit on a tree. His tight-fitting garment outlined a lean, muscular waist, still carrying some boyish mischief.

At last year’s winter solstice banquet, she had briefly glimpsed his face. Unfortunately, she’d been nervous about the assassination then, her thoughts not on Lu Huating. No matter how she tried to recall afterward, she couldn’t remember Lu Huating’s appearance, so there was no need to mention it to Eunuch Liang.

Eunuch Liang suddenly pulled her aside: “There’s something this servant wants to tell you. This Chief Administrator Lu is a King of Hell famous for private torture. Do you know his rules?”

“I know.”

“You don’t know!” Eunuch Liang emphasized. “Anyone who meets the Chief Administrator, guilty or not, first receives a round of private torture before questioning! Spies, assassins, rough heroes—all have their mouths pried open. He won’t show mercy just because you’re a young woman.”

Qun Qing remained silent. She’d long recorded this in her notes. She’d merely harbored a shred of hope, but now even that shred had been crushed.

The copper door before her reached to the ceiling, guarded by bronze beasts with green faces and fangs like a forbidden gate. Vague screams and pleas for mercy slid past from behind the door—not like human voices but ghostly ones, raising goosebumps on the scalp. The conversation between Qun Qing and Eunuch Liang was interrupted.

If she hadn’t guessed wrong, those people Lu Huating had tortured to death in the past had been executed here, in the former dynasty’s ruler’s place of meditation and purification, in Lu Huating’s own residence.

This man was cruel and rebellious, without scruples. The shod fear the barefoot—dealing with such a person, even Qun Qing was afraid.

Qun Qing had experienced life and death, lingering illness, but had never been tortured. She wasn’t made of iron; her heart held no confidence.

“Siji, if you have any words, this servant will help carry them out.” Eunuch Liang’s attitude became respectful, though his respect carried pity for one about to die—hearing it was as horrifying as funeral bells.

Qun Qing asked: “Does Chief Administrator Lu still help bury the dead now?”

“You know this too?” Eunuch Liang was surprised. “Yes, those he’s killed are generally buried by Chief Administrator Lu’s own hands. Though in recent years with so many people, it only counts if he killed them personally…”

Qun Qing nodded. She’d heard Lu Huating had the strange habit of killing then burying people, which she’d also recorded in her notes. It seemed the rumors were true.

Besides this, she also knew this man came from rural origins, and even after becoming a strategist still wore cloth daily; he only served half-days, resting during the day and active at night. With so many strange habits, it was impossible to piece together a normal person. Qun Qing clenched her teeth. When crisis struck, fear transformed into cold sweat that continuously seeped out.

The teeth-aching sounds inside continued.

Eunuch Liang brought out a wooden tray from the darkness and whispered: “Since Siji rewarded this servant with a gold bead, this servant is willing to be generous. Once through this door, the various tortures are unbearable. Even if you want to ‘pass on,’ he won’t let you ‘pass on.’ Siji can prepare in advance.”

The tray lifted higher, unsurprisingly displaying poisoned wine, a dagger, and poison pills.

Eunuch Liang was indeed generous. Compared to dying under torture in Lu Huating’s hands, these three items counted as a mercy. Qun Qing glanced at them: “Which of these is fastest?”

“The poisoned wine is fastest—about a quarter-hour, piercing the intestines brings instant death.”

Qun Qing picked up the poisoned wine and drank it in one gulp.

Her decisiveness left Eunuch Liang stunned, yet he lowered his head, avoiding her gaze.

Qun Qing wiped her lips, then instantly struck the bronze ring thrice—clang, clang, clang—pushed the door and entered, moving so quickly as if fearing her own regret. Eunuch Liang’s voice sounded behind her: “Qun Siji has arrived—”

The bronze door closed heavily behind her.

Qun Qing walked in step by step. The hall was large and empty, lacking the incense burners, floor lamps, and seating furniture typically placed in ordinary palace halls. Warm blood scent still hung in the air, yet there were no torture instruments or tortured victims. That person must have just been dragged away.

Qun Qing’s first glance caught a window opened in the opposite wall. Calling it a window was somewhat forced—it was just a square opening. She also noticed two hidden doors concealed behind wooden pillars against the walls.

Pale sunlight spread across the floor, along with wind. Qun Qing glanced right and indeed saw a half-open carved flower window with swaying verdant tree shadows outside.

So outside remained the gentle spring day.

Looking left, Qun Qing started. Atop a high stone platform hung white curtains. This old curtain embroidered with the Eight Trigrams billowed in the wind, behind it a desk and the silhouette of someone sitting cross-legged who’d made no sound since her entry, ghostlike.

Qun Qing lifted her hem and knelt, not daring to waste a moment: “Shangyi Bureau Rank Six Compiler Qun Qing has urgent matters to report to Chief Administrator Lu.”

The pavilion was so quiet a falling needle could be heard. Qun Qing heard only her own breathing. Whatever she said, he showed no curiosity or reaction. The negotiation immediately fell to disadvantage.

Qun Qing held her breath and waited several breaths before speaking again: “It concerns His Highness Prince Yan’s life and death.”

Still complete silence.

This prolonged silence was suffocating. Qun Qing’s mind instantly flooded with thoughts: Could he already know about the poisoning, holding some evidence? Otherwise why wouldn’t he care even about Prince Yan’s life and death? Or was he deliberately breaking down her psychological defenses?

In the silence, an extremely small sound suddenly came—like something slowly splitting open. Qun Qing concentrated to discern. After this minute sound, she smelled the sour fragrance exploding in the air.

The shadowy figure behind the curtain lowered his eyes, holding something in his hand.

A mandarin orange—he was peeling a mandarin orange.

Qun Qing could hardly believe it.

Lu Huating’s movements were casual, peeling intermittently. Before long, the entire pavilion floated with the fresh scent of mandarin oranges.

Suddenly, a restrained wail came through. Qun Qing looked toward that dark opening—the sound came precisely from within the window. Behind the window indeed connected to a hidden chamber! Immediately came more distorted muffled groans, as if in extreme pain, along with the chaotic sounds of people scrambling to help. Qun Qing recognized the voice as Su Run’s.

“The poisoning of His Highness Prince Yan was entirely my doing alone, unrelated to the Crown Princess or anyone else.” Before a third scream could sound, Qun Qing said, “Scholar Su has breathing illness. If you don’t wish to endanger his life, immediately summon a physician to treat him!”

In the curtains, Lu Huating’s movements briefly stopped. He placed the orange on the table, as if sighing with regret that she’d so quickly surrendered, saying such a foolish thing.

However, from the indistinct shadows, Qun Qing’s kneeling posture showed no collapse. Rarely within the inner palace did anyone kneel so quietly and nobly, spine held as if supported by a ruler, both sleeves hanging down, like a crane with broken wings in the backlight.

The person behind the curtains seemed to be turning to study her.

Wind from the carved flower window caressed Qun Qing’s sweat-dampened nape stroke by stroke, then passed her cheeks, blowing toward the stone platform, continuously lifting the curtain.

She took the opportunity to spy upward—no official robes visible, no cloth garments either. Black and white silk brocade hung down, knees resting on a folding fan, waist hung with silk ribbons—the elegant attire Chang’an gentlemen wore for banquets and refined discourse.

The curtain billowed upward again, caught by a pale white hand that yanked it down to trail on the ground, revealing from top to bottom an extremely handsome face. Those upturned eyes held a sharp gaze: “You sent me away to instruct the Crown Princess to poison Prince Yan?”

His finger lifted slightly, and one hidden door immediately flashed open. But seeing Qun Qing’s expression show no panic, suspecting that foolish statement was deliberately revealed—truth or deception hard to discern—Lu Huating flexed his finger again.

The hidden door closed once more.

“Is this truly what happened, or is Siji deceiving again?” Lu Huating asked slowly.

Qun Qing was rooted in place. The instant she saw the other’s appearance, her mind went momentarily blank.

But she quickly lowered her eyes: “If Chief Administrator Lu believes it, then it truly happened. If you don’t believe me, I have no recourse.”

Lu Huating didn’t listen to her words, seemingly accustomed to personally verifying. He turned his face aside as a hidden guard in soft armor ran in from the hidden door, leaning close to report: “The imperial physician… examined… His Highness is unharmed…”

“Right now he’s indeed unharmed. This poison has delayed onset. After ten days, both knees will ache and weaken, unbearable on rainy days. After one year, energy will fail, with lingering headaches. If rage attacks the heart, he’ll collapse convulsing with danger to his life.” Qun Qing’s raised, clear voice overrode that hidden guard’s voice.

“His Highness Prince Yan is renowned for mounted archery and distinguished military achievements. If hereafter he can only drag a broken body, how can he bear the great responsibility of ruler? When that time comes, you’ll have no choice but to recall the Eastern Palace. Several years of the Chief Administrator’s planning will all be wasted!”

The smile on Lu Huating’s face abruptly vanished. That hidden guard, reading the atmosphere, had long since disappeared.

In the approaching storm, Qun Qing looked at her blurred reflection on the floor and continued: “Since I dare speak thus, I have methods of detoxification and am confident the imperial physicians are helpless. It depends on whether the Chief Administrator is willing to save His Highness Prince Yan.”

“You’re negotiating with me?” Lu Huating looked toward her with a half-smile. “Siji worked so hard at treason precisely to make Prince Yan die. Why save him now and let years of effort come to nothing?”

“Chief Administrator Lu and I have no personal enmity—we merely each serve our masters. Why can’t we negotiate?” Qun Qing said. “Since you threatened me with Princess Bao’an’s life, you must know she is my master. Prince Yan’s life is important, but not worthy of comparison with the princess’s life. I ask little—only that Chief Administrator Lu preserve the princess and not harbor killing intent. His Highness Prince Yan loves the princess. The princess is gentle and cannot accomplish great deeds. Why must the Chief Administrator lose the greater for the lesser, insisting on provoking His Highness Prince Yan’s fury?”

Lu Huating didn’t answer, as if studying her face.

Qun Qing adjusted her breathing, lifted her eyes, and met that gaze directly, both pupils bright: “Chief Administrator Lu’s divine calculations—Qun Qing has always admired them. As a minister to others, reaching your position earns everyone’s envy. If you can become Prime Minister in the future, you’ll have no regrets. Qun Qing losing to you today isn’t a wrongful death. For Chief Administrator to offend Prince Yan over past matters isn’t wise. I’m willing to offer the merit of saving my master, only requesting you leave me one line in the history books as a loyal minister…”

Lu Huating suddenly reached into his sleeve to retrieve something, throwing an object before Qun Qing.

The object rolled and tumbled several times, landing face-up—a peachwood doll wearing cloth clothes with no facial features, a silver earring pin stabbed through its chest.

The silver pin pierced through the seal-script characters “Yunming” embroidered on the clothes, driving the characters into the garment, revealing the depth of hatred.

Yunming was Lu Huating’s courtesy name.

Upon seeing this object, Qun Qing immediately understood that while Eunuch Liang brought her here, Lu Huating had long since had people turn her residence completely upside down, retrieving even such secretly stored items from the hidden compartment of her vanity.

“Is this Siji’s?” Lu Huating watched her, his tone icy.

Qun Qing grasped the peachwood doll in her hand, speaking no more. With evidence before her, saying another word would be clumsy performance, only becoming material for Lu Huating to humiliate her.

She only thought—fortunately she’d burned that notebook in advance, not even ashes remaining, or who knew how people would interpret it.

Lu Huating descended, casually sitting on the stone steps to lean toward her. His gaze was like a soft sword, pressing against her face and scraping across, somewhat surprised: “Siji has grown a face incapable of deception. You speak with detached ease, opening your heart sincerely. If not for this, one couldn’t see that Siji’s heart actually deeply hates me, yet can speak with a frank expression about admiration and respect.”

Qun Qing didn’t respond, disdainful in her heart. She thought, what of it? Struggling against Lu Huating to the later stages, she could use any method. Never mind cursing him with shamanic arts—even shortening her own lifespan to make wishes, using blood in rituals, burning incense and worshipping Buddha—if it could truly make Lu Huating short-lived, she’d probably do it.

Her chin was abruptly lifted. Qun Qing was forced to raise her neck. The richer mandarin orange scent emanated from his fingers, almost making breathing difficult.

She was forced to face those eyes directly—their owner’s eye corners upturned, pupils intensely black yet seemingly amorous.

Lu Huating stared at her unblinkingly: “This isn’t our first meeting. Last year’s winter solstice banquet, you and I met. The one who killed Minister Wei was also you.”