From the outside, Four Nights Tower remained brilliantly lit as usual. Flower ladies smiled and beckoned to customers, and wine patrons entered and exited in an endless stream.
But the atmosphere inside the private room was cold to the extreme.
“Elder Brother, news from the ancestral home in Jiannan Circuit—two ladies claiming to be Second Sister’s maids entered with the Cui family token, searched for things, and left!” Cui Shengbin said.
Cui Hao swallowed, fear showing in his eyes.
There had been too many people recently attempting to break into Four Nights Tower. Both had injuries, so much so that when he saw tree shadows swaying outside the window, his mind tightened like a drawn bowstring.
“What are these two people’s identities?” Cui Zhu held the wine pot.
“Unknown.”
“Whose people?”
“We don’t know. The ancestral home only has concubines and old servants who just eat, drink, play, and gamble. Seeing the token, they let them in… How could they have known Second Sister was already gone?”
“Don’t know anything, don’t know anything!” Cui Zhu suddenly flew into a rage, kicking over the low table. Porcelain bottles shattered. “Others swagger in and out of the family home—what’s the difference between the Cui family and a leaky sieve?”
When it rains, it pours. All signs were ominous omens. Cui Hao and Cui Shengbin had already knelt down. “Elder Brother, can we truly not get through this time? Why don’t we burn that account book? Better than living in such fear.”
“If we burn it, won’t those officials be delighted?” Cui Zhu said. “Their incriminating evidence would be gone, and all the blame would be ours. Then they’d kick us when we’re down and silence us permanently, wouldn’t they?”
“Right, we can’t burn it.” Cui Shengbin’s eyes showed vicious intent. “Since we can’t escape, we must keep a copy of this account book. If we truly can’t get through this, no one should have it easy.”
“Finding the ancestral home—Meng Guangshen’s scheme is ruthless.” Cui Zhu said. “Last time when he left, he warned me. Now he’s getting serious.”
“Elder Brother, how should we respond?”
“Respond?” Outside the window, dragon and fish dances reflected on Cui Zhu’s numb face. Alcohol soaking through his fear, he laughed desperately and poured the wine onto the ground. “The ones who want this account book aren’t just the Meng family. Come, all of you come. Invite Minister Qin and General Ningyuan as well.”
—
“Father, tonight Cui Zhu has invited Lu Huating to a banquet.” Meng Guanlou stood in the study. Seeing Meng Guangshen still writing quietly, he couldn’t help saying, “If that account book falls into his hands, may I ask how Father will handle himself?”
“You’re now a Supervising Secretary at court—why are you still so unsteady?” Meng Guangshen finished a stroke before speaking.
“I’m unsteady…” Meng Guanlou said coldly. “My marriage prospects have been disrupted by him twice. How much steadier must I be? Father, why can’t you face him squarely?”
Meng Guangshen looked up. “Face yourself squarely first. Constantly watching others only makes you lose face for nothing.”
“I won’t hide from Father—I often have a dream. In it, Prince Yan ascends the throne and Lu Huating becomes Prime Minister. This matter weighs on my heart like a stone. If we don’t eliminate him early, I fear he’ll move against us.”
Meng Guangshen never believed in supernatural matters. Hearing this, he actually smiled. “If he can become Prime Minister, then what about this old man?”
“You and I, father and son, were both thrown in the imperial prison, our lives uncertain, Father!” Meng Guanlou said. “Fortunately, I had planted someone beside Lu Huating and barely escaped with my life…”
Before he could finish, Meng Guangshen interrupted. “Something from the fortieth year of Shenglin’s reign?”
“The fourth year of Shenglin!”
Meng Guangshen’s brush came to an abrupt halt. Ink splattered onto Meng Guanlou’s hem.
It seemed this dream truly lacked logic.
“So much effort spent cultivating you, yet you’re still disappointing. Your temperament doesn’t resemble mine—you take after your mother.” Meng Guangshen’s tone was quite regretful. After a pause, he said, “Lu Huating is going to the appointment alone?”
“He’s bringing a lady with him, seems to be called Lady Qing.”
He had assumed it was just an accompanying hidden guard, but suddenly hearing the three words “Lady Qing,” an elegant face suddenly surfaced in Meng Guangshen’s mind.
A female attendant from the Crown Prince’s side was unlikely to be together with Prince Yan’s people. Probably just someone with the same name.
But it made for a good pretext to fabricate charges.
“You may leave. This old man has long made arrangements for this matter.” Meng Guangshen said.
After leaving, Meng Guanlou instructed his attendants, “I fear Father doesn’t believe me, but I cannot sit and wait for death. Have our people take action.”
—
At this hour, Qun Qing was already sitting by the warm charcoal in the Healing Ward, having changed out of palace attire. She bit a silver hairpin and reached behind her back to tie the knot of her moon-white shirt and skirt.
Viewed from behind, the white gauze upper garment inlaid with silver threads revealed skin piled like snow. When she lifted her dark hair, several strands of jet-black hair cascaded down.
Fang Xie stood at the door. Seeing this scene, his brow furrowed, yet he didn’t look away. Instead, like gazing at scenery never seen before, he watched her with those dark, deep eyes.
When Qun Qing came to the medical hall for treatment at fifteen, she was skinny as a rake with a stubborn, strange temperament. Back then, Fang Xie thought that was what young ladies were like. He hadn’t expected that after being nourished in the palace these days, she had grown into another appearance.
A dangerous appearance.
“What are you doing?” Qun Qing saw someone behind her through the makeup box mirror and said alertly.
“Elder Sister, who prepared this outfit for you?” Fang Xie said. “It doesn’t look good.”
Qun Qing hadn’t expected to hear such an assessment. After a pause, she said, “I prepared it myself.”
She looked at the collar—good thing Fang Xie hadn’t seen that low-cut garment from last time, or he would definitely have made a fuss.
Seeing her take out a dagger and skillfully hide it in her sleeve, Fang Xie hurried in with a medicine box. “You’re going to do something dangerous again?”
“You know what I do, don’t you?” Qun Qing hid two blade fragments in her sleeves and said frankly, “Only after finishing this matter can I come out sooner to reunite with you.”
Fang Xie froze, conflicting emotions showing in his eyes. Qun Qing took the Soul-Transferring Mother-Child Pills from his hands, stored them on her person, and said lightly, “I’m leaving. Give me two more ginseng slices.”
Ginseng slices were for sustaining life when hanging by a thread.
“Elder Sister!” Fang Xie called out to her, stuffing many more medicine pills into her hands. “On the Lantern Festival, I’ll wait for you outside the palace.”
As soon as she stepped into the tower, Qun Qing felt many gazes falling on her like dense spider silk.
Qun Qing had an extraordinary premonition of danger. She gripped the sheep-head sachet through her clothing and prayed to the Buddha in her heart, then climbed the stairs with an unchanged expression, lifting her skirt.
Until she saw the hem of someone’s black garment.
Qun Qing looked up. Lu Huating stood on the stairs looking at her, his expression composed. It was also strange—seeing this face that was always relaxed no matter the situation, more than half the oppression in Qun Qing’s heart instantly dissipated.
“I thought the Chief Administrator would dress more solemnly today.”
“For Cui Zhu? Not quite worth it.” Hearing this, Lu Huating glanced at his own regular attire. After a long while, he lifted his lashes to look at her, light in his eyes. “When there’s a worthy person to deal with, I won’t be too late to change then.”
With that, he extended his hand toward her, as if kindly wanting to pull her up the steep, difficult stairs.
Qun Qing’s gaze fell on his hand. Under her gaze, Lu Huating closed his hand into a fist, only letting her grasp his wrist to borrow strength, maintaining all propriety.
Qun Qing extended her hand and merely held onto his hanging sleeve, pulling herself up the stairs.
Lu Huating’s long lashes trembled, but he let her lead. As Qun Qing passed by him, she brought with her the fragrance of secluded orchids. Lu Huating paused for a moment, then suddenly turned his face to look at her.
Qun Qing only felt his gaze fall on her right cheek, with emotions in his eyes she couldn’t understand, making her heart somewhat uneasy. “Did I smudge on some lip rouge?”
Lu Huating’s eyes were deeply black. It seemed that in the first year of Shenglin, Qun Qing was not yet mature—she actually had this degree of trust toward a sworn enemy, actually applying the ointment he gave her on her face.
“A bit. My lady, use a handkerchief to wipe it.” After a moment of silence, Lu Huating spoke. When he turned his head again, Qun Qing had already rubbed her face red.
Was he worthy of trust?
At least before obtaining the account book, he was worthy of trust.
“Please take my arm, my lady.” Lu Huating said. “Being closer facilitates conversation.”
Qun Qing took his arm. “Tonight in the tower, there are many more people at stairway corners, on eaves, and outside windows—three times the usual number.”
“Prince Yan’s residence people are already hidden at the positions you mentioned.” Lu Huating said. “Four others are hidden in positions I thought might be useful.”
Qun Qing glanced at Lu Huating. This person had campaigned north and south with Prince Yan and possessed the ability to deploy troops and formations. With him filling in the gaps, she felt at ease. “Good.”
A flower lady led them in. “You two have arrived. Boss Cui is already waiting.”
Pushing open the door, they saw a huge square table. In the center was a pot of verdant potted plants surrounded by exquisite dishes filling the table. Two musicians played the lute and dulcimer. Cui Zhu sat on the left side, and surprisingly two others shared the table—Minister Qin and a sword-bearing military general, both with somewhat tense expressions.
Qun Qing recognized these two. Both were in the account book—probably reinforcements Cui Zhu had called. But there was another possibility: they came with the same intention as her, also wanting the account book. Lu Huating glanced at the two but said nothing.
“Chief Administrator, please sit.” Cui Zhu smiled and invited Lu Huating to sit. “All three are distinguished guests who’ve spent lavishly in this tower. Tonight I obtained a dragon fish. To express my gratitude, I’ve specially invited you all to taste something fresh.”
Qun Qing was about to approach the table when Cui Zhu’s snake-like gaze stopped on her face. “We have music but lack performance. Chief Administrator won’t mind letting the lady present a dance behind the curtain, will you?”
He pointed to where a crimson curtain hung.
Qun Qing had wanted to take the opportunity to place the Soul-Transferring Mother-Child Pills in the food and wine, but before she could act, Cui Zhu wanted to send her away.
“The lady hasn’t eaten a bite yet.” Lu Huating said.
“She can eat after dancing. The flower lady from Kushi practices dancing daily—let us observe as well.” Cui Zhu made a “please” gesture.
When they arrived, that Madam Liu was nowhere to be seen. Probably her matter of falsely posing as a musician to infiltrate Four Nights Tower had already been suspected by Cui Zhu. If he exposed her identity on the spot, all the arranged plans would be in chaos.
This truly struck at her Achilles’ heel.
Qun Qing couldn’t dance.
Qun Qing glanced at Lu Huating. Lu Huating also glanced at her. Not knowing if the message had transmitted, Qun Qing said calmly, “Chief Administrator, accompany me on the instrument.”
“You’re asking a fifth-rank official to accompany you?” Playing music was something done by men of lowly status. Minister Qin was somewhat surprised.
“A scholar’s refined interest. Minister Qin, please pardon us.” Lu Huating beckoned, having the musician bring over the instrument. With slight effort at his wrist, he tuned the strings.
Qun Qing would probably choose a piece she had practiced, otherwise she couldn’t possibly match the rhythm. Lu Huating’s eyes held tension that only the two of them understood. “What piece would the lady like to dance to?”
Qun Qing said, “Little Pine.”
“What is Little Pine?” Lu Huating smiled, his eyes showing rare hesitation as he looked at her. He had never heard of such a piece.
In a moment, he thought of it, and his expression changed slightly.
“Little Pine” was the very first lesson when young children practiced the instrument and learned the strings. Chang’an noble ladies were all skilled at playing instruments and dancing. Qun Qing usually seemed capable in all things—he had completely failed to consider that this woman couldn’t dance.
Qun Qing stood gracefully behind the curtain, her shadow motionless. Lu Huating’s heart thundered, yet from his fingers, a string of musical notes already flowed out. He could only hope she could discern the melody.