Wu Dingyuan never imagined that the person blocking their path would be his father.
Wu Buping was wearing the same official uniform he had on when he left this morning—a flat-topped headband, a black-collared robe, and thin-soled black boots. For many years, he had worn this outfit while patrolling the Southern Capital region. The appearance of this Iron Lion at this time and place carried profound implications.
The watchpost arrangements at Shangu Platform, the mysterious absence on Chang’an Street, the strange appearance in the Sugar Workshop Corridor, his sister’s mysterious disappearance… countless fragments rapidly assembled into a prominent beam in Wu Dingyuan’s mind.
“So you were involved in today’s events,” Wu Dingyuan’s voice was calm.
“No, I…” Wu Buping tried to explain but suddenly choked on his words. He noticed his son’s eyes had changed, becoming sharp and clear. He knew that look too well—it was the gaze of someone who had grasped the truth.
The Iron Lion was known as the “Divine Constable” in the Southern Capital, but in truth, the one who truly solved cases like divine intervention was this wastrel son behind him. Many previous bizarre and major cases were secretly guided by Wu Dingyuan, allowing Wu Buping to earn his great reputation. Wu Buping remembered that whenever the mysteries were solved, the confusion in Wu Dingyuan’s eyes would clear, becoming bright and penetrating.
So when Wu Buping saw that look again, he knew nothing could be hidden anymore. He simply swung his iron ruler forcefully, avoiding the topic: “Is the Crown Prince behind you?”
“Yes,” Wu Dingyuan answered.
“Dingyuan, come to my side,” Wu Buping reached out his hand, his tone carrying a hint of pleading. He didn’t know how Wu Dingyuan had gotten mixed up with the Crown Prince, but in the current situation, it certainly wasn’t a good choice.
Wu Dingyuan stood silently in place, while Yu Qian behind him was stunned. The person blocking their way was the long-missing Chief Constable of Yingtian Prefecture, Wu Buping. No wonder—who else but the Iron Lion could find Yu Qian’s residence and track them here in just half an hour?
What terrified Yu Qian more was that he couldn’t think of a single reason why Wu Dingyuan would refuse this recruitment.
In terms of relationships, Wu Dingyuan valued family far more than the Crown Prince; in terms of benefits, this bamboo pole only cared about silver, not loyalty; in terms of safety, they were currently outnumbered. No matter how Yu Qian thought about it, he believed Wu Dingyuan would immediately defect. He slowly raised his arms, considering how to desperately hold them off for a while to let the Crown Prince turn back and flee quickly.
At this moment, Wu Dingyuan spoke: “Father, where is Yulu?”
“I don’t know,” Wu Buping’s mouth twitched.
Wu Dingyuan showed an expression of complete understanding and sighed: “The Crown Prince’s life means nothing to me, and I wouldn’t mind handing him over. But you’re a veteran officer—how can you not see through this? What happens after we hand over the Crown Prince? Do you think those people will let our family reunite?”
Common kidnappers often killed their victims even after receiving ransom, let alone in a struggle for the throne. Since those people dared to kidnap Wu Yulu to coerce the Iron Lion, they would surely silence all witnesses after succeeding in eliminating variables.
“Then what do you want me to do!” Wu Buping roared in agony, bending over. His face looked more than ten years older than usual, clearly bearing tremendous torment. Wu Dingyuan stepped forward: “Better to help the poor than the rich, better to save the urgent than the poor. Why don’t you come over here, and we’ll protect the Crown Prince together as father and son? Our family might still have a chance of survival.”
If there was any other possibility, Wu Dingyuan wouldn’t have wanted to say such things. But just as he was about to escape the quagmire, his father and sister had fallen in. He had no choice but to choose between two terrible options.
Wu Buping heard his son’s suggestion and shook his head miserably: “If they discover I’ve made any suspicious moves, your sister will be finished…” At this moment, chaotic footsteps came from behind the Iron Lion, along with a rough voice shouting: “Iron Lion, have you found them?”
Hearing the urging, Wu Buping gritted his teeth and waved his iron ruler: “Dingyuan, if you care about your sister, step aside first. We can discuss other matters after this is settled.”
Zhu Zhanji in the back heard clearly. He coughed and stepped forward, intending to help Wu Dingyuan resolve this situation. With the Crown Prince personally recruiting, how could a mere constable not bow and submit? However, before he could speak, Wu Dingyuan roared without turning back: “Get back!”
In the narrow gateway, this thunderous shout resonated with a buzzing echo. Zhu Zhanji was greatly embarrassed and was about to lose his temper when Yu Qian grabbed his shoulder: “Your Highness, it’s too dangerous here. Please step back.” Seeing Yu Qian’s stern expression, Zhu Zhanji could only retreat reluctantly.
After persuading the Crown Prince to retreat, Yu Qian looked ahead worriedly. Wu Dingyuan’s tall, bamboo pole-like figure was slightly trembling, showing that his inner turmoil was no less than his father’s. But Yu Qian dared not interrupt, because this was an almost unsolvable dilemma.
Unfortunately, there was no time left for father and son to discuss slowly. Several people appeared behind the Iron Lion, and the rough voice said viciously: “Iron Lion, who’s over there? Why haven’t you made your move?”
In the candlelight, Wu Dingyuan saw that these people all had white lotuses embroidered on their robes, making his heart tighten. Their daring to wear such robes openly meant that Zhu Buhua and the White Lotus Sect had already joined forces. Wu Buping had destroyed over a dozen White Lotus incense altars, and their hatred ran deep—even if he succeeded, he might not be able to retreat safely.
Urged by the White Lotus followers behind him, Wu Buping had no choice but to charge forward. The two iron rulers clashed with a “clang,” and Wu Dingyuan shouted “retreat” while fighting and backing away.
For a moment, the Zhengyang Gate passage was in chaos. Yu Qian protected Zhu Zhanji and Su Jingxi as they rapidly retreated, while the Wu father and son clashed with clanging weapons in the middle, and a group of White Lotus followers holding lanterns pressed forward behind Wu Buping. Fortunately, the passage was narrow, preventing the opponents from rushing forward en masse—only the Wu family members were fighting.
After they had been fighting tentatively for a while, during a moment when they crossed paths, Wu Dingyuan suddenly said something in a low voice. While Wu Buping’s offense didn’t diminish, his expression became subtle.
The Crown Prince’s group continued to retreat, soon passing the middle section of the passage, with the White Lotus followers pursuing fiercely close behind. Taking advantage of Wu Buping’s moment of recovery, Wu Dingyuan suddenly threw his iron ruler upward. He added a slight spin to his wrist, and the iron ruler transformed into a spinning blade as it went up. Soon, the sound of ropes being cut came from the darkness.
When Wu Dingyuan first passed through Zhengyang Gate today, he noticed a huge stone block from Mount Mufu suspended above the middle section of the passage. The stone was hanging by several hemp ropes, as the workers hadn’t yet completed the final arch inlay. He had already calculated that once they retreated past the middle section, he would use the iron ruler to cut the ropes, and this huge stone would block both the passage through Zhengyang Gate and the White Lotus followers’ line of sight.
In this emergency, this was the only way to break the deadlock.
As Wu Dingyuan threw his ruler to cut the ropes, he shouted hoarsely: “Watch out!” With his shout, an incredibly heavy huge shadow, like a thousand-jin iron gate, fell toward Wu Buping and the White Lotus followers.
Hearing his son’s shout, Wu Buping suddenly dashed forward, barely escaping the stone’s coverage. As his footsteps stopped and he slightly relaxed, he didn’t hear the expected huge crash of the stone hitting the ground. The Iron Lion quickly looked back and saw that the large stone block had been caught in mid-air by a bamboo tip protruding from the wall.
The White Lotus followers under the stone, who had been crouching and covering their heads waiting for death, saw they had escaped death and desperately crawled toward this side on all fours.
Wu Dingyuan hadn’t expected such an accident, and all his calculations had failed. At this moment, he saw Wu Buping clench his right fist forcefully in the darkness, gesturing toward him.
Every time his father left home to handle cases when he was young, he would make this gesture, indicating he would return safely. This was the tacit understanding between father and son over many years. Wu Dingyuan’s pupils contracted, and in an instant, he understood what his father was going to do.
Wu Buping turned back, bent down to crawl under the stone, and raised his arms to shake the bottom edge of the huge stone. The bamboo tip was only temporarily driven into the wall and wasn’t very secure. With his shaking, it quickly couldn’t withstand the pressure and broke with a “crack.” As the stone lost its support and fell again, Wu Buping tried to quickly back out. Just as his upper body had emerged, his movement suddenly stopped—the rough-voiced White Lotus follower had grabbed his trouser leg: “Iron Lion, what are you trying to…”
Wu Buping instinctively turned back to kick, but by then the huge stone had crashed down.
In the dark passage, a heart-wrenching cry rang out: “Father!” Wu Dingyuan lunged forward but only managed to catch Wu Buping’s upper body. He tried to pull, but couldn’t move him at all. The old man’s waist was a bloody mess, his entire lower body firmly crushed under the stone, practically bisected.
Blood seeped from the corners of the Iron Lion’s mouth, but there was a hint of comfort in his painful expression: “This… this is good too, it’s the only way to… to keep both of you safe.”
The White Lotus followers who witnessed the Iron Lion’s actions were crushed into a mass of flesh and blood, and no one knew his relationship with Wu Dingyuan. When the people behind arrived at the scene, they would only think the Iron Lion had unfortunately perished while pursuing the Crown Prince, and naturally there would be no reason to kill Wu Yulu.
The only way to break the deadlock wasn’t to let the huge stone fall but to let it crush Wu Buping to death.
“Su Jingxi! Su Jingxi! Come quickly!” Wu Dingyuan had never lost control like this before. He held his father and frantically called the female physician’s name. Su Jingxi quickly came over but shook her head after one look, indicating nothing could be done.
“Do you want money? I can give you everything! Don’t you want Zhu Buhua dead? I’ll kill him! Save him… save him!” Desperate and sharp voices squeezed out from trembling lips as Wu Dingyuan nearly fell into delirium. Su Jingxi patted his shoulder and sighed softly: “Your father still has one last breath, don’t waste time elsewhere.”
Wu Dingyuan lowered his head and returned his gaze to Wu Buping. As massive amounts of blood poured from the gap between the stone and the ground, the old man’s face was rapidly collapsing. But he still struggled to lift his neck and said to his son: “I… I have something I’ve never told you…”
“Father, don’t say it, I know, I know!” Wu Dingyuan reached out and embraced the Iron Lion’s head, his voice trembling, “I’m not your biological son, I’ve known for ten years!” The Iron Lion’s gaze froze, first showing relief, then turning emotional: “No wonder you’ve been… since then… that’s good, but what I want to say, isn’t this… cough cough! Hong… Hongyu…”
Wu Buping wanted to say more, but large amounts of blood rushed into his throat, choking off his words. Wu Dingyuan held his gradually cooling hand, seemingly pleading: “Father, don’t go, let’s rescue Yulu together!”
Hearing these words, a slight smile of comfort appeared at the corners of the Iron Lion’s mouth, and then he forever stayed with this expression. Wu Dingyuan embraced his father, also seeming to stay forever in this moment. Yu Qian walked over, wanting to remind Wu Dingyuan they needed to leave soon, but though he had thousands of classical quotes and phrases in mind when he saw the bamboo pole’s withered and grief-stricken face, he couldn’t say a word.
At this moment, footsteps came from inside the passage, and two lantern lights shone in from outside. These should be the two guards from earlier who heard the commotion and came to investigate with lanterns.
Zhu Zhanji squinted toward the lantern light. He had been at the end of the line earlier, but now with the situation reversed, he had become the first to face the enemy. Wu Dingyuan couldn’t be counted on, and Yu Qian’s fighting ability was also questionable—these two guards would have to be handled by himself.
For some reason, what arose in his heart wasn’t fear, but excitement.
Many people tend to overlook this point: Zhu Zhanji wasn’t a delicate crown prince raised in luxury in the deep palace. He had followed Taizong’s banner to sweep the north, experienced the wind and sand on the Sahun Plains, hunted gazelles at Kulun Lake, crossed the turbulent Xiyang River alone on horseback, and witnessed the Oirat’s sweeping iron cavalry at Hulan Hushi Wen.
Compared to those rough and fierce Tartars of the north, these Nanjing guards were as weak as women.
The guards didn’t know the situation here yet, thinking there had been an accident. They swung their lanterns left and right, first seeing the criminal monk wearing stocks standing in the middle of the passage, unable to see his expression. One guard asked if he had heard the noise, and the monk nodded, pointing inside with his bound hands, saying a stone had fallen.
The two guards knew there was a large stone hanging in the passage and hadn’t expected it to fall during their shift, prompting complaints. They walked past the criminal monk, about to go inside to investigate. Suddenly, Zhu Zhanji’s arms shook, and the chains binding his hands fell with a “clatter,” while the two wooden stocks also split open. The right piece fell to the ground, and he grabbed the left piece with his left hand and smashed it hard toward one of the guards.
The guard never expected the criminal monk to suddenly attack—the back of his head was struck by a large elm board, and with a cry of “Aiya,” he was knocked unconscious. The other guard heard the sound and quickly turned around. Zhu Zhanji wanted to repeat the same trick while the lantern light was wavering, but his right shoulder had been severely injured, and the earlier exertion with his left arm had strained all his muscles, leaving him too pained to muster any strength.
Seeing his companion knocked out by the monk, the guard immediately drew his sword and lunged forward. Unable to move, Zhu Zhanji cursed “dog’s balls” under his breath and prepared to close his eyes and await death. But suddenly he heard a “bang,” and the guard fell to the ground. Behind him, Su Jingxi lowered the other wooden stock and brushed aside the messy hair from her forehead.
Unfortunately, her strength was too little—the guard was down but not unconscious. Zhu Zhanji quickly stepped forward and viciously kicked the unfortunate fellow’s temple, finally settling the matter. Just as he was about to praise Su Jingxi’s decisiveness, she pointed to the side.
Zhu Zhanji instantly realized that dealing with these two men only meant the crisis was temporarily averted. The White Lotus followers on the other side of Zhengyang Gate wouldn’t take long to arrive by an alternate route, and the city’s Brave Battalion could arrive at any moment—they needed to withdraw quickly. He shouted over there: “Yu Qian?”
Yu Qian replied softly: “Wait a bit longer.”
Zhu Zhanji frowned, clutching his wound as he walked over. He saw Wu Dingyuan slumped beside the huge stone, maintaining his posture of embracing his father, motionless. No matter what Yu Qian said beside him, he showed no response.
“Wu Dingyuan, look at me,” Zhu Zhanji commanded.
Yu Qian thought the Crown Prince was being too harsh and was about to speak, but was silenced by a glare.
“Wu Dingyuan, raise your head and look at me!”
Wu Dingyuan slowly lifted his head. They say when people are overwhelmed by grief, it drowns out all other emotions. This time as he looked directly at the Crown Prince, his temples merely throbbed a few times, unlike the previous pain.
“Your father is already dead, and my father is probably dying soon; your sister’s whereabouts are unknown, and I don’t know if my mother is alive or dead. I understand exactly how terrible you feel because tonight this prince has lost even more than you.” Zhu Zhanji’s voice was flat, but he enunciated each word extremely heavily as if squeezing them through clenched teeth.
Wu Dingyuan remained silent but didn’t turn his gaze away.
“Seeing you in this state reminds me of how I was earlier. But don’t worry, this prince won’t scold you like Yu Qian scolded me—you wouldn’t understand. I also won’t bother calling you useless—you’ve probably heard that enough.” Zhu Zhanji raised his chin slightly mockingly, “Let this prince tell you a story.”
“When I was young, I followed my grandfather the Emperor to suppress the Northern Yuan. Once in the Wutengli Desert, we were caught in a great sandstorm, and I got separated from my guards. Alone on horseback, with no water or food. Then I met a Tartar herder, and we searched for a way out together. For five days and nights, I nearly gave up several times, but he always found ways to survive. When thirsty we drank urine, when there was no urine we squeezed juice from animal dung; when there was nothing to eat we swallowed lizards and leather belts. While doing these things, he always muttered a phrase in Tartar. Later when I returned to camp and asked the frontier soldiers, I learned what it meant: ‘Eternal Heaven is biased, so both wolves and sheep must fight desperately.'”
“I found that phrase awkward, so I changed it to ‘Heaven’s way is unfair, but human hearts don’t give up.’ Did you hear clearly? Heaven’s way is unfair, but human hearts don’t give up!” Zhu Zhanji seemed to be speaking to both Wu Dingyuan and himself, “Me earlier, and you know—if we died in anger, wouldn’t that just play into those villains’ hands? By what right do they commit evil deeds yet we bear the consequences? By what right? If Heaven has gone blind in its dealings, and we don’t fight back, what hope is there!”
At this point, Zhu Zhanji turned around: “Bring the incense burner!”
Yu Qian quickly took out the incense burner from his chest and placed it on the ground. Zhu Zhanji lifted it by the handle and held it before Wu Dingyuan: “This prince just swore before this burner, no matter how many tribulations, never to give up, vowing to capture the culprits. If you share this resolve, I’m willing to share an incense stick with you, to swear together at this burner, what do you say!”
Though phrased as a question, his tone brooked no refusal. Zhu Zhanji stared intently at Wu Dingyuan. The latter kept muttering, “Heaven’s way is unfair, but human hearts don’t give up; Heaven’s way is unfair, but human hearts don’t give up…” while hesitantly releasing the Iron Lion’s upper body and slowly extending his right hand.
He remembered this small burner was from a copper theft case several years ago. When a Siamese merchant’s shipment of wind-milled copper was stolen, Wu Dingyuan devised the strategy while Wu Buping led the investigation, father, and son working together to solve the case in just three days. To show gratitude, the merchant donated several copper items to the Yingtian Prefecture—the large pieces were kept by the prefect, while Wu Buping received a copper incense burner. After discussion, the father and son decided to make it a birthday gift for Wu Yulu.
Wu Dingyuan still remembered his sister’s delighted expression when receiving the gift. She was playing with perfumes with her friends at the time, and would polish the burner until it shone every day, constantly trying different incense—the room was always filled with exotic fragrances. He could never understand how she could distinguish between scents that seemed so similar to him. Wu Buping was equally baffled, and this became an eternal mystery between father and son.
As his palm approached the burner’s edge, scenes from the past kept flashing in his mind. When his palm was about to touch the handle, Wu Dingyuan suddenly tore off the cotton bandage, revealing the wound in his palm where Su Jingxi had pierced it, and pressed it directly against the sharp rim of the burner’s opening. Fresh blood seeped from the wound, leaving a crimson mark on the golden-speckled copper surface.
“I, Wu Dingyuan, use blood instead of incense, to swear hereby. I will avenge my father…” Wu Dingyuan said hoarsely, word by word, his palm continuously rubbing against the burner’s edge as if only more blood could make the oath stronger.
Zhu Zhanji bent down to take the incense burner and patted his shoulder: “Alright, let’s go!”
Wu Dingyuan shifted his body, gently laying down his father’s half-corpse. Wu Buping’s lower body was firmly crushed under the stone and couldn’t be moved no matter what, and besides, if his corpse wasn’t left behind, Wu Yulu would be in danger.
Su Jingxi came forward to rebandage Wu Dingyuan’s wound, but he waved her off, supporting himself against the huge stone as he straightened up and looked toward the exit. In the darkness, his eyes gleamed brightly, as if shedding their lazy shell to reveal a sharp edge.
“Go north,” he said hoarsely.
“Why?” Yu Qian was startled. Zhengyang Gate was almost at the southernmost point of the capital, and they were just a few zhang away from leaving the city—why turn back into the city now? Wasn’t that too troublesome?
“If you think it’s troublesome, the White Lotus and Brave Battalion will surely think the same,” Wu Dingyuan said. Yu Qian understood—attack where they least expect it, as commonly said in military strategy.
“But the north is too vague, surely we need a specific destination?” Su Jingxi asked.
“Fule House,” Wu Dingyuan rummaged through the cabinet and found another spare iron ruler, tucking it into his waist.
When Yu Qian heard this name, his hands holding the incense burner trembled, his expression like he’d been painted with white plaster. Wasn’t that the brothel where Wu Dingyuan’s lover worked in the Entertainment Bureau? Why go there at a time like this? He was about to say something when Zhu Zhanji stopped him with a raised hand: “You’re going to Fule House for an unavoidable reason?” Wu Dingyuan nodded. Zhu Zhanji said seriously: “Will going there help us leave the city?” Wu Dingyuan hesitated, then nodded again.
“Good, trust the man you use, we’ll follow your lead!” Zhu Zhanji made the decision. Yu Qian looked at the Crown Prince, then at Wu Dingyuan, but ultimately said nothing.
Shortly after they left, Zuo Yehe arrived at the outer side of Zhengyang Gate. Many people had gathered chaotically inside and outside the gate passage—White Lotus followers, members of the Brave Battalion, gate guards, and men from the Five Cities Military Command. They stood in separate circles, occasionally casting hostile glances at each other. At this moment, a masculine beauty strode over grandly, immediately drawing everyone’s attention.
Zuo Yehe showed the token from Zhu Buhua but didn’t rush inside. First, she took out a lotus leaf package from her chest, unhurriedly unwrapping it to reveal a freshly steamed glutinous rice tea cake, coiled into a long strip. Zuo Yehe took a bite while it was still hot—the aromas of sesame, walnut, and osmanthus burst forth together, combining with the sweet glutinous rice fragrance to make all her pores dilate with pleasure.
Since childhood, she had firmly believed that sweetness was divine courage. Especially when facing extremely complex situations, only by consuming enough sugar can one maintain clarity and make decisions.
After finishing the tea cake in a few bites, Zuo Yehe tossed away the lotus leaf and bent down to enter the gate passage. Inside, more than ten lanterns had been set up, illuminating the corridor brightly, while a pungent smell of blood permeated the narrow space.
The huge stone that had taken lives had been partially pried up at one corner, allowing a glimpse of what lay beneath. Under the stone were several puddles of mangled flesh and blood, like a scene from hell. While those around nearly vomited, Zuo Yehe crouched down with interest to observe, even pushing her head in closer to try to see the flattened skull on one of the bloody masses.
“Where’s the Iron Lion?” Zuo Yehe straightened up.
“On the other side, half his body was crushed, he’s dead,” a shrine master respectfully answered. “According to the followers who were with the Iron Lion, they had circled to the outer side of Zhengyang Gate to intercept, and engaged in combat with the enemy in the passage. The Iron Lion charged at the front, with Shrine Master Wang and several others close behind, when this huge stone inexplicably fell, crushing them all to death.”
“To think a legendary capital detective would end like this, tsk, bit of a waste,” Zuo Yehe sighed regretfully, then asked: “So the other side has escaped? Did they leave anything behind?”
“Yes, we only found two knocked-out guards on the other side of Zhengyang Gate.”
Zuo Yehe fanned herself with the lotus leaf, deep in thought. That they would use the unfinished stone block was indeed beyond her expectations—it seemed the Crown Prince might have someone besides Yu Qian with him. This person must be very familiar with Nanjing and skilled in combat.
Was it an old acquaintance of the Crown Prince, or help that Yu Qian had found?
She decided to look more carefully. As one of the Mother Buddha’s dharma protectors, Zuo Yehe was deeply versed in human nature. She believed that as long as she could deduce the other party’s identity and temperament, she could predict their course of action as if seeing into their lungs and bowels.
She ordered those around her to pry the stone up a bit more, revealing a gap barely wide enough for one person to pass through. Zuo Yehe’s slender frame allowed her to squeeze through this gap. Her boots were already covered in wet flesh pulp and even had someone’s intestine stuck to them. Several guards on the other side held torches, and when they saw this woman crawl through the stone gap stepping in blood and casually scraping intestines off her boots on the ground, their expressions showed a hint of awe.
After cleaning herself, her first glance fell on the Iron Lion lying face-up on the ground. His eyes were tightly closed, his upper body relatively intact, but his lower body was a bloody mess, mangled beyond recognition. Looking at the corpse, Zuo Yehe habitually pressed her index fingernail against her temple, gently grinding it—the slight pain made her thoughts more sensitive.
She asked: “Has anyone touched the Iron Lion’s corpse?”
“No, the higher-ups just told us to guard here and not touch anything,” the guard answered honestly.
Zuo Yehe gazed down for a moment, then suddenly turned to the guard and said:
“I just looked at the remains of those followers under the stone—they all died face-down. If the Iron Lion was charging forward in pursuit, he should have died face-down too—how did he end up dying face-up?”
The guards looked at each other in confusion, not understanding why this woman suddenly asked such a question. After a few breaths, they realized she wasn’t talking to them at all, but to the darkness behind them.
The guards hurriedly turned around to see a tall man standing in the passage behind them. His light short clothing couldn’t hide his muscular physique, and a thick scar crossed his entire forehead, making it look as if his skull had been lifted open. More terrifying was that they hadn’t noticed when this man had approached.
The man didn’t immediately answer Zuo Yehe’s question. He walked over slowly, crouched before the stone, and felt the half-congealed blood on the ground. In the yellow candlelight, the blood surface showed some undulations, revealing the shapes of several footprints.
“The Iron Lion must have charged forward before the stone fell, then for some reason suddenly turned back, and couldn’t retreat in time, getting his legs crushed,” the man’s voice was as deep as a bell, his chest resonating.
Zuo Yehe burst out laughing: “Could he have been possessed?”
“I know the Iron Lion—he must have had a reason for doing this,” the large man extended two fingers. “There are footprints from two people in the blood, and the other person was likely very close to the Iron Lion.”
“How do you know they were close?”
The large man turned Wu Buping’s corpse, revealing a row of bloody fingerprints on the back shoulder: “Someone was holding the Iron Lion in their arms as he died.”
The Iron Lion had many acquaintances in Nanjing over the years, but someone who would hold him as he died—that relationship must have been extraordinary. Before Zuo Yehe could think further, the large man said: “I want the Iron Lion’s corpse.”
Zuo Yehe raised her fine eyebrows, chuckling softly: “I don’t mind giving it to you, but are you showing respect for an old opponent, giving him a proper burial, or planning to desecrate the corpse of an old enemy?”
“Convert him in gratitude, send him straight to the Pure Land.”
The large man spoke only eight words, then gently scooped up the Iron Lion’s half-body and hoisted it onto his shoulder. Zuo Yehe showed slight disgust, knowing full well what this man meant by “convert.” She reminded him: “Liang Xingfu, be quick about it—we still need you, our fierce hound, to catch people tonight.”
Hearing this name, the guards trembled like mice seeing a snake, backing away several steps to clear a path. The man called “Liang Xingfu” walked straight out, only his voice resonating in the passage: “Those people must have fled north, there’s still time.” His tone was indifferent, as if he didn’t consider this much of a matter.
Zuo Yehe once again pressed her fingernail to her temple.
This mysterious person Liang Xingfu had discovered was both acquainted with the Crown Prince and closely connected to the Iron Lion. It seemed necessary to carefully review the Crown Prince’s movements from leaving the treasure ship to entering the palace, down to the smallest detail.
Thanks to that fool Zhu Buhua, tonight’s troubles would likely continue for a while. Yet the light in Zuo Yehe’s eyes grew more intense. This was good—the more complicated things became, the more it would highlight the Holy Sect’s divine power.
She looked out into the dark gateway, suddenly realizing that letting the Crown Prince roam free a while longer might not be such a bad thing.
Fule House occupied a special place in Nanjing.
Among Nanjing’s fourteen Entertainment Bureau houses, this was the oldest, established during the Hongwu era. Located beside Wuding Bridge, backing onto Banknote Street and flanking the Qinhuai River, just a waterway away from the Jiangnan Examination Hall, it was in the most prosperous location possible.
Although Fule House was old and not as luxurious as the Heming, Zuixian, and Qingyan houses that arose during the Yongle era, it possessed a pride that none could overshadow. At the main entrance, Emperor Hongwu had left an imperial couplet: “This place has fine mountains and waters, fine winds and moons, moreover fine people and affairs, adding fine tales through a thousand autumns; The world has many foolish men and women, foolish hearts and dreams, furthermore many foolish feelings and thoughts, how many generations of foolish people.”
This couplet, written in red lacquer and traced with gold, was magnificent and imposing, making anyone who saw it stand in awe. Though some scholars privately muttered that Emperor Hongwu, known for his great military and political talents, had never shown such literary ability. But since the Entertainment Bureau’s superior, the Nanjing Ministry of Rites had raised no objections, naturally, no one would court trouble by questioning it.
Usually after nightfall, the many small courtyards of Fule House would early raise their tall pink tasseled cards. Painted boats on the river would play pipes and drums, while inside the houses cups would clink endlessly through the night. But tonight, due to the curfew, there were hardly any guests, with only two turtle slaves wearing green headbands standing beneath the imperial couplet, chatting listlessly in low voices.
As the two turtle slaves were discussing the huge sound from the East Water Gate, they suddenly heard clear bell sounds from afar and brightened up. A small boat with a black canopy drifted over from the river, with a copper bell hanging from its top, tinkling as the boat swayed.
Fule House had built a row of independent courtyards along the Qinhuai River, with water right outside their doors. If courtesans or guests wanted late-night snacks, black-headed sampans would deliver food and wine directly to the riverside doors. These small boats moved quickly and, fearing collision with pleasure boats, hung bells at their prow, called “floating night bells.”
The canopied boat soon wobbled over, with a tall, thin man at the bow pushing a bamboo pole, rowing laboriously. The boat sat deep in the water, though it wasn’t clear what was loaded inside. A turtle slave called out: “Where are you delivering to?” The man wore a conical hat, his face unclear: “Delivering to Grandma Tong at Three Curves Eighth Courtyard—two baskets of hot buns from Gaozuo Temple, three packets of lotus root sugar candy from the Fang family.”
“Tsk…” the two turtle slaves were envious, these were Jinling’s finest delicacies, not easily obtained.
“The Eighth Courtyard is always quiet, they can’t possibly eat all that, let’s help them out.” The turtle slaves reached out with grins, wanting to lift the lacquered food boxes. The man hurriedly said: “Grandma Tong said the buns can’t get cold, the boxes can’t be opened.” He then took out several treasury notes from his chest and handed them over. The turtle slaves were somewhat disappointed but didn’t persist, laughing as they went to the water gate to let the small boat in.
In this section of the river, rows of bamboo poles wrapped with colored silk marked out a narrow channel. The small boat drifted downstream, first passing the First and Second Curves, where the courtyard gates were spacious, with vermillion railings and bamboo curtains, silk-screened windows everywhere—truly a place of extravagance. Past the Third Curve, the riverside houses notably became shabbier, and by the Eighth Curve area, the buildings were particularly simple and cramped.
Young courtesans mostly lived in the First Curve, and as they aged and their patrons changed, they would gradually move to the Second and Third Curves. The vicissitudes of the pleasure quarters were evident at a glance.
The small boat finally stopped before a cramped courtyard. A fat madam opened the moon gate, grumbling about who would be so wasteful as to call for a floating night bell. The man at the bow jumped to the door and lifted his conical hat—the madam started: “Young Master Wu?”
Wu Dingyuan stepped over the threshold with his right foot, his left hand pressing against the door panel: “Grandma Tong, I’m here to see Hongyu.” Before Grandma Tong could answer, three more people emerged from the canopied boat. One wore official robes, one wore a horse-face skirt, and there was even a monk. They all entered the courtyard without a word.
Grandma Tong was somewhat alarmed, but Wu Dingyuan said: “I sent someone with a hundred and fifty taels of silver during the day—did you receive it?” At the mention of silver, Grandma Tong’s expression relaxed somewhat: “I’m keeping it for Hongyu.”
“I’ll just speak with Hongyu briefly and leave. These are my friends, they’ll just rest in the hall—you don’t need to attend to them, and don’t disturb anyone else.”
Grandma Tong was experienced in matters of romance—seeing the killing intent in his eyes, she didn’t ask further and led them to the hall. Zhu Zhanji looked around curiously along the way—this was his first time in a Jiangnan brothel, and everything from the carved railings to the painted windows, and the flowered steps to the fish ponds, seemed novel to him. Su Jingxi walked forward quietly, focused only on the path ahead. Only Yu Qian’s face was red as he clutched his wide sleeves, wishing he could take off his robe immediately.
The Great Ming had never had a court official dare to visit a brothel wearing court robes. If anyone saw this and word got out, Yu Qian would feel like killing himself.
As they approached the hall, Zhu Zhanji suddenly pointed: “Why is that hung up there?” On the white wall of the hall ahead hung a copper paste funnel. Yu Qian naturally couldn’t answer, while Su Jingxi’s eyes flickered: “Your Highness need not know about this.” Zhu Zhanji asked curiously: “What’s there not to know? A paste funnel is for holding paste at the table, why hang it on the wall?”
Unable to dissuade him, Su Jingxi had to reply: “Then Your Highness must first forgive my disrespect.” Zhu Zhanji thought, I’m just asking about a paste funnel, is it such a grave matter of disrespect? So he nodded. Only then did Su Jingxi say softly: “The female relatives of those convicted of high treason in our dynasty are often sent to Entertainment Bureau houses like Full House. Bearing criminal records, they cannot redeem themselves unless granted amnesty. To distinguish them from ordinary courtesans, their rooms must have a paste funnel hung outside, indicating their sticky guilt that cannot be removed. Some patrons specifically prefer such places…”
At this point, Su Jingxi’s expression showed difficult-to-suppress emotion, and she said no more. Zhu Zhanji frowned: “Could this Hongyu that Wu Dingyuan is looking for also be a traitor’s female relative?” Su Jingxi shook her head slightly, indicating uncertainty. Most female relatives of traitors died within the first few years, either unable to bear the humiliation and committing suicide, or dying from illness after being ravaged. It was very rare for them to live long enough to move to the Third Curve.
As they talked, they entered an octagonal hall. In the center was a small square table, with several pots of orchids and tiger lilies in the corners. Several calligraphy pieces and paintings hung on the white walls, all gifts from patrons to show their status. In the center was a shrine to the White-Browed Third Son, with white brows and red eyes, a long beard, and an imposing appearance—the god of pleasure worshipped in the entertainment district.
Grandma Tong didn’t even bother serving tea before slipping into the inner rooms to call someone.
Soon, a middle-aged woman with loosely pinned hair, wearing a red silk inner robe, walked in, somewhat sleepy-eyed. Seeing Wu Dingyuan, she was quite surprised: “Dingyuan, why have you come so late?”
Upon seeing her, the grief Wu Dingyuan had been suppressing all along suddenly burst forth: “Aunt Hong… my father is dead…” He fell to his knees before her with a thud, breaking into loud sobs. Hongyu was thunderstruck, standing dumbfounded for a long while before helping Wu Dingyuan up by the arm, saying let’s go to my room to talk.
Zhu Zhanji, Su Jingxi, and Yu Qian were all somewhat bewildered. They had all heard rumors about the “bamboo pole” loving to drink and visit brothels and thought this visit to Fule House was to see a lover. But looking at the crow’s feet at this Aunt Hong’s eyes, she was at least in her forties—though her bearing was fine, her looks were quite ordinary. Their manner toward each other seemed more like mother and son than anything else.
Grandma Tong stood to the side, her expression normal, apparently long accustomed to the strange relationship between these two.
Yu Qian asked: “What’s the story with these two?” Wearing official robes, he commanded respect, so Grandma Tong hurriedly bowed and said: “Young Master Wu’s preferences are… unique. For over ten years, every time he comes to see my girl, he neither dallies nor stays the night, just looks and then leaves. He’s never stingy with money though, so I just let him be.”
“Why does he do this?” Yu Qian couldn’t help asking. Grandma Tong looked helpless: “This old woman just serves tea and water, how would I know? I think even Hongyu herself doesn’t know how she attracted this strange customer.”
Zhu Zhanji suddenly said: “There’s a paste funnel on the wall—could Hongyu be a criminal registrant?” Grandma Tong replied: “Yes, she came from the north, and has been at Fule House for over twenty years now. Her looks are ordinary, but she plays the zither beautifully. She performs behind curtains, teaches newcomers in the back building, and serves as a zither instructor among the courtesans. Though relegated to the Third Curve, she hasn’t suffered too much.”
“What was her crime?” Zhu Zhanji asked.
“That I don’t know—the records are kept at the Entertainment Bureau. We just take them in, and she never speaks of her past.”
Yu Qian and Su Jingxi exchanged glances, tacitly maintaining silence. Having been sent to the Entertainment Bureau over twenty years ago, Hongyu was a relative of criminals from the Jingnan Campaign. Last November, Emperor Hongxi had already decreed that criminal relatives in the Entertainment Bureau, Laundry Bureau, and other places be pardoned and restored to commoner status, but for someone like Hongyu, being freed would leave her without means to survive—better to remain at Fule House as a zither instructor.
Grandma Tong was too experienced to tell guests about this, and they certainly wouldn’t explain it to Zhu Zhanji, as it would only create awkwardness.
Grandma Tong tried to probe indirectly about their backgrounds, but Yu Qian waved his wide sleeve, blocking her. His crimson court robes carried considerable intimidation, and the atmosphere in the hall suddenly cooled. Grandma Tong laughed awkwardly: “The servants are all asleep at night, let me go see if there are any cold fruits to serve you all.”
Meanwhile, in the inner room, Wu Dingyuan told Aunt Hong everything that had happened that night. Hongyu listened with her hand on her chest, breathing heavily. For a zither instructor in the Entertainment Bureau, these earth-shattering changes were too shocking to bear. When Wu Dingyuan spoke of Wu Buping’s death at Zhengyang Gate, Hongyu couldn’t help but embrace his head and cry, repeatedly saying “Such misfortune, such misfortune.”
After Hongyu had cried for a while, Wu Dingyuan raised his head: “Things have come to this—please tell me everything.” Hongyu wiped her eyes with a silk handkerchief and sighed deeply: “Ten years ago I let something slip and ruined your bright future. I regret it deeply…”
“That wasn’t your fault, Aunt Hong!” Wu Dingyuan interrupted, “Ten years ago, I wanted to know. Ten years later, I still want to understand clearly.”
“What difference does knowing or not knowing make? Why seek trouble?” Hongyu looked at the sky through the river window, “Since you say it’s so urgent, don’t delay here with me. Quickly help the Crown Prince leave the city, then go find your sister!” She went to her zither case and took out a small embroidered bag: “The money you’ve left at Fule House over the years, after the house master and madam’s share, I’ve exchanged the rest for these Southern Pearls from Hepu—use them on your journey.”
Wu Dingyuan didn’t take the bag, his tone carrying traces of anger: “Why, even now when my father is dead, are you still unwilling to tell me?” Hongyu pushed the embroidered bag into his hand: “Back then I let slip half a sentence, and you’re still stuck on it until now—how dare I tell you more? What if it triggers another fit and costs you your life?”
“Will I not have fits if you don’t tell me?”
“Dingyuan, why are you being unreasonable again!”
Wu Dingyuan’s emotions suddenly flared up, almost shouting: “I’ve endured enough! I want to know, why do I feel inexplicably at ease every time I see you, Aunt Hong? What was your relationship with my father? Why won’t you tell me who my birth parents are? Am I a bastard, unworthy of knowing?”
All the doubts and suppression accumulated over these years now erupted with Wu Buping’s death. Fortunately, the courtyard walls were high and thickly planted with willows and locust trees—no matter how much commotion they made, neighbors couldn’t hear clearly.
Seeing Wu Dingyuan’s anger, Hongyu didn’t panic but showed a faint bitter smile: “Dingyuan, you don’t understand. As a woman with a criminal record, suffering daily in this Entertainment Bureau furnace, what do I fear most? It’s remembering my former life. Recalling those things only brings more pain—I wish I could forget everything. So the past you want to know is the past I desperately want to forget.”
Wu Dingyuan’s anger was doused like ice water had been thrown on it. He shrank back and lowered his head like a child who had done wrong.
“These ten years, you’ve disregarded your reputation, coming to Fule House every day, saying you feel inexplicably at ease whenever you see my face. But do you know that every time I see your face, I’m reminded of those years, and the scabbed wounds are torn open again? Sometimes, I truly wanted to have Grandma Tong drive you away.” Hongyu spoke flatly, but the two deep lines at the corners of her mouth revealed her extreme inner pain.
Wu Dingyuan looked up in surprise—he had never known that Aunt Hong didn’t want to see him at all.
Seeing his reddening eyes, Hongyu felt sympathetic. She could only sigh softly and step forward to embrace him: “The past is like yesterday’s death. If you’re willing, come find me after this crisis is over. Then, Aunt Hong will tell you everything she knows, alright?” She tied the embroidered pouch to his belt.
“But…”
Hongyu knocked his head: “No buts—you’ve endured all these years, can’t you wait a few more days?” Wu Dingyuan had to close his mouth sullenly. Hongyu pulled the sandalwood door open a crack and peeked at the hall outside: “That dirty monk, is he the Crown Prince?”
“Mm.”
“He looks quite ordinary—I thought dragon sons and grandsons would be different from others.”
“Compared to Jinling’s young masters, this Crown Prince is not bad…”
Wu Dingyuan rarely gave positive evaluations. Hongyu turned back with a meaningful smile: “So you coming to Fule House so late wasn’t just to suddenly ask about your origins?” Wu Dingyuan scratched his head awkwardly and pointed to the corner: “I also wanted to borrow your Washing Moon Zither.”
Hongyu had expected this and took out a folded red velvet cover from under the couch, shaking it open: “This zither is delicate, I need to cover it.” As Wu Dingyuan watched her carefully cover the zither, he suddenly thought of something and moved close to whisper in her ear: “There are a few things you must remember, Aunt Hong…”
Yu Qian and the others were getting impatient in the hall when they suddenly heard the wooden door of the inner room open. Wu Dingyuan walked out with a small ancient zither slung across his back, covered in a scarlet velvet case. Yu Qian asked if he was going to… perform. Wu Dingyuan replied irritably: “Whether we can leave the city tonight depends on this zither—does anyone know how to play?”
He first looked at Su Jingxi, but she shook her head. Beside her, Zhu Zhanji spoke up: “My uncle taught me before, this prince can play a bit.”
“What do you mean by ‘a bit’?” Wu Dingyuan asked.
“Uh…” Zhu Zhanji paused, “I’m proficient in ‘Night Rain on the Grey River’ and ‘Capturing the Qilin,’ and can manage ‘The Cessation of Guangling’ passably.”
A zither master like Hongyu could tell someone’s skill level just from hearing what pieces they knew. Wu Dingyuan didn’t understand these things and just nodded: “As long as it’s loud enough. Let’s go.” The three didn’t know what Wu Dingyuan had in mind, but leaving quickly was best. It was already past the third watch of the night—the later they left the city, the greater the risk.
Hongyu leaned in the doorway and called out worriedly, “Be careful.” Wu Dingyuan raised his fist, indicating she could rest easy. Seeing this scene, Su Jingxi gave her a curious glance. Judging by this woman’s expression, perhaps besides borrowing the zither, she and Wu Dingyuan had discussed something else. But her thoughts quickly jumped elsewhere.
“Why hasn’t Grandma Tong returned?” Su Jingxi questioned.
Hearing this, Wu Dingyuan frowned, asking if they had said anything. Yu Qian said they hadn’t revealed anything. Wu Dingyuan was still worried. Having mixed in brothels for so long, Grandma Tong had extremely sharp eyes—these people’s situation probably couldn’t escape her notice.
At this critical moment, they couldn’t afford any additional complications.
Just as he was about to walk into the courtyard to check, Hongyu spoke: “You should leave quickly, I’ll handle Grandma Tong, don’t worry.”
Time was pressing, so they could only do this. Wu Dingyuan jumped onto the canopied boat, put on his conical hat, and waited for the other three to hide in the canopy before pushing off with the bamboo pole. The turtle slaves outside had already received their money and didn’t give them trouble, just moved the water gate to let them leave directly. The floating night boat left Fule House’s waterway, swaying as it drifted north along the Qinhuai River.
Shortly after the small boat left, Grandma Tong returned to the hall carrying a plate of golden-thread dates, asking Hongyu where Young Master Wu had gone. Hongyu said they had talked briefly and left, saying they had official business. Before Grandma Tong could speak, a stern-faced centurion and five or six banner soldiers appeared behind her—their sleeve insignias showed they were from the Prefecture’s Forward Guard.
The centurion showed no courtesy to the zither instructor, demanding to know where the criminals were. Hongyu glanced at the embarrassed Grandma Tong and sneered: “The ones here were the son of Yingtian Prefecture’s Chief Constable and an official who didn’t reveal his identity. What do you want to ask?”
Hearing this, the centurion turned back to ask Grandma Tong if this was true. Grandma Tong hurriedly said there were more, there were more—a woman and a monk. Hearing this, the centurion flew into a rage and struck her hard across the face.
Their orders were to search the riverside courtyards around Wuding Bridge for the palace servant who had escaped from the imperial city. When this old woman came reporting suspicious people at Fule House, they thought they would earn great merit, but instead found completely unrelated people, wasting all this time.
Hongyu watched coldly from the side. Since Wu Dingyuan had sent one hundred and fifty taels of silver that afternoon, Grandma Tong’s attitude had changed. For a zither instructor like her who could neither redeem herself nor receive guests, Grandma Tong couldn’t make much profit. But if she successfully reported suspicious activity, she could manipulate things to pocket all one hundred and fifty taels of silver. Such things were all too common at Fule House.
While the centurion was still cursing in the hall, Grandma Tong covered her face and explained that they had taken a floating night boat, acting suspiciously. But the centurion slapped her again, cursing that this was nonsense—which official didn’t try to be discreet when visiting brothels? Did they expect them to arrive in an eight-bearer sedan chair? Grandma Tong covered her face and dared not speak further.
The centurion circled the room once more, and seeing Hongyu’s ordinary looks, didn’t even bother to take verbal advantage of her, leaving angrily with his men. However, this centurion was still conscientious enough that after leaving Fule House, he found a nearby military station and reported the situation to the duty clerk.
The clerk took out brush and ink, copying this record into a gridded ledger. Soon after, a courier came knocking—he was responsible for delivering documents from eighteen military stations around the Wuding Bridge and Examination Hall area, and this was his last stop, his back basket almost full of documents. The courier took the ledger and tossed it on top of his basket, then ran quickly toward the Central Military Command at Three Mountains Street.
“Whoosh—”
An arrow flew through the air, piercing straight through the chest of the last Imperial Guard ensign. The ensign cried out in agony and fell face-first. Beside him lay over ten bodies in fish-scale uniforms, each riddled with arrows like porcupines. This Imperial Guard office on Chongde Street had become a blood-soaked realm of slaughter.
The old Thousand-Household knelt in the middle of the courtyard, waving his embroidered spring blade, red-eyed and shouting desperately: “We are Imperial Guards! Not rebels! We’re not!” But the dozens of Brave Battalion mounted archers standing on the front hall ridge and at the courtyard gate remained unmoved. They merely coldly drew their bowstrings taut again, awaiting the final order.
Zhu Buhua stood before the screen wall with folded arms, the boils on his face increasingly swollen, ready to burst at any moment. Only a satisfying massacre could slightly relieve this itching pain. He waved his right hand without hesitation—bowstrings vibrated, and the old Thousand-Household was instantly pierced by over ten long-shafted arrows, falling with a thud onto the stone ground already covered in blood.
The Brave Battalion surged forward, beginning a thorough search of the office inside and out. Zhu Buhua hadn’t moved his feet, his gaze fixed on the dead Thousand-Household, pondering Zuo Yehe’s words.
Zuo Yehe had just sent word that she’d found a clue—discovering that before entering the palace, the Crown Prince had briefly stopped at the Imperial Guard office on Chongde Street before being taken away by Zheng He. After escaping the imperial city, the Crown Prince might seek refuge here again.
Upon hearing this, Zhu Buhua personally led troops to Chongde Street, surrounding the place. The Imperial Guards were very stubborn, refusing their demand to search inside. Zhu Buhua made a bold decision, ordering the Brave Battalion to attack the office on charges of “harboring criminals,” refusing any surrender. These Imperial Guards had all seen the Crown Prince’s true face—none could be left alive.
The search quickly ended, finding no trace of the Crown Prince inside the office. Zhu Buhua shook his head, remounted his horse, and rode swiftly to the Central Military Command at Three Mountains Street.
The nerve center of this city-wide search was set up at the Central Military Command. All information from across the city was to be regularly gathered here, so the office entrance was bustling with people coming and going. However, these busy officials all wore peculiar expressions. For sitting in the main hall was not the Commander or Deputy Commander—they had already perished at the East Gate dock—but a scholarly-looking woman.
For once she wasn’t eating anything, instead buried in reviewing gridded ledgers from various places, every bit like a dutiful superintendent. Zhu Buhua strode brazenly to the front of the hall, dismissed the attendants, and then spoke sarcastically: “I heard even a stone block at Zhengyang Gate could stop you. For all the White Lotus Mother Buddha’s divine powers, she couldn’t predict today was inauspicious for travel?”
“We can complain to each other in the imperial prison after the Crown Prince reaches the capital,” Zuo Yehe replied with light sarcasm, raising her head from the documents, “What did you find over there?”
“Nothing, he didn’t go to the Imperial Guard office.” Zhu Buhua threw over several pages, “Before we attacked, my men got some information from an ensign, see for yourself.” The pain on his face was becoming unbearable, and he had no patience for all these complexities.
Zuo Yehe took the confession paper and quickly read through it, her eyes suddenly focusing. She pondered for a moment, then bent down to pick up a gridded ledger from the document basket under the desk. This had just been delivered, the ink still fresh. She flipped pages with one hand while her other hand’s fingernail unconsciously dug into her temple.
“If you have something to say, say it! If you need to fart, fart!” Zhu Buhua said impatiently.
“So that minor official Yu Qian from the Court of State Ceremonial had also been to the Imperial Guard office, and shortly after the treasure ship explosion. At Xuanjin Bridge, didn’t you reward him with a horse and token? He actually returned to the Imperial Guards and took away a prisoner—guess who?”
“Who?”
“According to the ensign’s confession, that prisoner was called Wu Dingyuan, nicknamed ‘Bamboo Pole,’ and his father was Wu Buping who died at Zhengyang Gate,” Zuo Yehe said. “Moreover, it was this fellow who saved the drowning Crown Prince and took him to the Imperial Guards.”
“And then?” Zhu Buhua couldn’t calm down enough to piece together the fragments, thoroughly disgusted with Zuo Yehe’s habit of drawing things out. Zuo Yehe narrowed her eyes to study his face as if deliberately provoking his anger:
“According to witnesses at Zhengyang Gate, the Crown Prince had at least three people with him. One was Yu Qian, one was an unidentified woman, and another, probably the most troublesome one, should be Wu Dingyuan. I think the one who encountered Wu Buping at Zhengyang Gate was his son.”
“What’s so special about this Wu Dingyuan? Why would the Crown Prince seek him out?”
“I’ve asked around—he’s known as a good-for-nothing, nearly thirty and still unmarried, spending his days drinking and visiting brothels. People say he’s the Iron Lion’s enemy from a previous life come to collect a debt.”
Zhu Buhua frowned—this was strange indeed. Zuo Yehe pulled out the last page of the confession: “The Imperial Guard quartermaster mentioned an odd detail: before Yu Qian took Wu Dingyuan away, they withdrew three hundred taels of silver from the treasury, half sent to Wu Buping’s home in Sugar Workshop Lane, the other half to the Third Curve of Fule House…”
Zhu Buhua’s eyes lit up: “Knowing the address makes things simple—I’ll take men to surround Sugar Workshop Lane immediately!”
Zuo Yehe held her forehead, half in exasperation: “Wu Buping is already dead, and they’re not fools—wouldn’t going there now be walking into a trap? You should go to Fule House.” She then held the gridded ledger before Zhu Buhua’s eyes:
“Less than half an hour ago, the Prefecture’s Forward Guard reported four mysterious visitors at Grandma Tong’s place in Fule House’s Third Curve, who briefly stopped there before leaving by floating night boat. They didn’t think much of it, just noted it in the ledger.”
Without another word, Zhu Buhua put on his helmet and strode out. From afar came his roar of “Prepare horses!” Zuo Yehe unhurriedly closed the gridded ledger, a crafty smile appearing at the corner of her mouth.
She had been completely honest with Zhu Buhua, except for concealing one thing: Wu Buping’s daughter Wu Yulu was now in the White Lotus Sect’s hands. She had thought Wu Yulu would be useless after the Iron Lion’s death, but then this escort Wu Dingyuan appeared. It seemed kidnapping that one woman could serve two purposes.
Zuo Yehe called over an attendant and whispered: “Go tell Liang Xingfu it’s about time to start work.” Then she glanced at the water clock—it was about the end of the Zi hour and the beginning of the Chou hour.
The calendar should be torn to the nineteenth day of the fifth month, the first year of Hongxi.