The moment Ziqing stepped down from her palanquin, she found Hongyi and Shiliang already waiting at the entrance of Prince Yao’s residence with a group of servants, a large brazier blazing with fire set out on the ground before them.
“Your Highness, please, step over the fire quickly, to ward off misfortune!” Hongyi said cheerfully. Her Highness the Princess Consort had won this particular battle magnificently, and if Hongyi had harbored any lingering doubts about her before, this incident had thoroughly won her over, body and soul.
Ziqing lightly leapt over the brazier, saying flatly, “Where has the prince been all these days?”
“The day he returned from the palace after mentioning the witness testimony and physical evidence to this subordinate, he never came back again. He’s probably gone to the Glazed Pavilion,” Hongyi answered truthfully.
“The Glazed Pavilion? What’s he doing there?” Ziqing asked further.
“This subordinate isn’t entirely sure. Actually, whenever the prince returns to the capital, he rarely stays at the main residence at all—he spends most of his time at the Glazed Pavilion instead. It’s his private residence out in the countryside, where he keeps a considerable number of shadow guards,” Hongyi reported.
Ziqing lowered her head, deep in thought. Though not every member of the imperial family and nobility had attended today’s proceedings, quite a number had still come—and she’d taken particular note that none of them had shown any sign of an injured face. Jun Beiyue should rightfully have attended the hearing as well—why hadn’t he appeared? She hadn’t been without suspicion that Jun Beiyue himself might be the true culprit behind everything, since his suspicious behavior was substantial enough. And yet, he had no apparent motive whatsoever!
Unless that man had rocks for brains, why would he possibly go to such lengths to cuckold himself, or waste his time playing such an elaborate masked game with her for mere amusement? Why would he deliberately stir up so much unnecessary trouble with Emperor Tianhui in the process?
At the thought, Ziqing found herself immediately dismissing Jun Beiyue as a suspect once again, without a second thought.
“When will he return?” Ziqing asked again.
“This subordinate isn’t sure, Your Highness. No one ever really knows the prince’s whereabouts,” Hongyi said—and it was entirely true. Jun Beiyue’s comings and goings had never once been reported to anyone.
Seeing that it wasn’t yet too late in the day, Ziqing smiled. “Since there’s a bit of free time, then—Shiliang, have you arranged everything I instructed you earlier?”
“We can head over at any time,” Shiliang answered earnestly.
“Hongyi, stay here and hold down the fort. If the prince returns, tell him… tell him I was in a poor mood and went out for a walk,” Ziqing instructed.
“But…” Hongyi hesitated, then immediately fell silent upon seeing Ziqing’s furrowed brow. She desperately wanted to say: Your Highness, the prince isn’t so easily fooled—you’d best go and return quickly, because if he comes back and finds you gone, this humble servant will be the very first to suffer the consequences!
Soon, a carriage departed from the rear courtyard of Prince Yao’s residence, heading toward the outskirts of the city.
The largest dilapidated temple on the western outskirts served as one of the gathering places for the capital’s beggars. The moment Ziqing’s carriage arrived, a group of young beggars roughly the same age as Shiliang immediately rushed forward, instantly surrounding the carriage entirely.
“Miss, please take me in!”
“Miss, I can help with chores, I’m very obedient!”
“Miss, I’m willing to serve you for the rest of my life!”
…
Clearly, Ziqing’s true identity hadn’t been made public. Shiliang, normally so composed, looked visibly embarrassed, urgently about to scold the crowd, when Ziqing stopped him.
Standing atop the carriage, Ziqing looked out over the sea of grimy little faces, over the countless dark, outstretched hands reaching toward her, and couldn’t help but feel a warm smile tug at her lips. What she saw wasn’t merely a crowd of filthy children—what she truly saw were countless pairs of the purest, most untainted eyes, filled with genuine hope for the future, for whatever fate might bring them.
With remarkable patience, she gestured for the children to quiet down, her smile warm and gentle—so much so that even Shiliang barely recognized her. He had always believed his mistress to be a ruthless, ironclad woman without an ounce of softness in her!
Soon, the entire group of young beggars fell silent—thirty in total, carefully selected by Shiliang from various beggar encampments throughout the city.
“Do you know why I’ve brought you all here?” Ziqing asked flatly.
“To serve the young miss!”
“To become the young miss’s guards!”
“To follow the young miss, and protect her once we’re grown!”
…
All manner of answers rang out, yet Ziqing merely smiled. “None of you actually know why you’re here—so why did you come at all?”
For a moment, everyone fell silent, until one young boy stepped forward, saying earnestly, “To survive! To live a life with real value, rather than begging for scraps our whole lives, just to avoid starving to death!”
Ziqing raised an eyebrow, studying him carefully. Malnourished and painfully thin, the boy stood even shorter than Shiliang, looking as though the slightest push might knock him clean over—yet his words carried a stubborn, unmistakable strength impossible to ignore.
“What’s your name, and how old are you?” Ziqing asked.
“My name is Gu Xi. I’m thirteen this year,” the boy answered honestly.
Ziqing smiled faintly. “Child, living a life with real value isn’t so simple a thing to achieve. I’ll give you all two hours to cross the mountain behind us. I’ll be waiting for you on the other side. Time each of yourselves carefully—those who arrive on schedule, I’ll keep. The rest will move on to further evaluation, to determine whether you’re worthy of being hired for significant pay…”
Before she’d even finished speaking, a faint, dismissive chuckle rippled through the crowd, as though this challenge seemed almost laughably simple. Ziqing merely continued smiling faintly, pressing on. “Remember this well—whether you arrive early or late, either way, you’re immediately disqualified. I want precision, arriving exactly on time. Also, know this: the mountain has already been rigged with nearly a hundred traps, large and small—some will cause serious injury, others may prove fatal. I’m telling you this upfront: participation is entirely voluntary, and I take no responsibility for any injuries or deaths that occur.”
Once she finished speaking, the entire group fell into dead silence. Ziqing glanced briefly at the sky, her smile immediately turning grave, declaring sharply, “Now—begin!”
With that, without so much as another glance at the assembled children, she turned and vaulted several times in quick succession, disappearing into the mountain forest ahead.