Entering the main palace gate, they had only walked a few steps when they saw a figure standing under the distant lamps, arms folded across his chest, with an imposing presence. Ding Yi’s heart jumped—who else could it be but the Seventh Prince? It was still early; hadn’t he gone out to seek entertainment? Why had he returned so quickly?

She hurriedly took several quick steps forward and, bowing at the waist, asked, “Was it not interesting outside? Has Master returned already?”

He said, “I wasn’t in the mood. What a disappointment—the courtesan was built like an ox with broad shoulders and a thick waist. Sitting on one’s lap, she could crush a man to death. How do the men in this place live such miserable lives…” As he spoke, he looked past her, seeing the Twelfth Prince enter through the gate. He grew somewhat angry—his instructions had been completely ignored. As soon as he had left, they had gotten together again. What was he thinking now? It was like a reclaimed wife who wouldn’t stay home, always running off at every opportunity, impossible to control. He couldn’t help raising his voice, his face stern as he asked, “Where did you go? The moment your master leaves, you servants run wild—whose household rules are these?”

Ding Yi knew he was about to lose his temper and, hunching her shoulders, raised the cages in her hands. “This servant asked the Twelfth Prince to take me to buy birds.”

“Buy what birds?” The Seventh Prince was bewildered. “Are you addicted to keeping birds and want to get a couple for yourself?” He lowered his head to examine the cages. “Not bad, such fine birds—that’s rare.” Then he looked at Hong Ce. “How is it that your friendship has reached this point? These two birds can’t be cheap, right?”

Hong Ce’s expression remained calm. Without beating around the bush, he said directly, “These birds aren’t for her; they were bought for you. Your two original birds were poisoned to death. Xiaoshu was afraid you’d be upset, so she brought back new birds to distract you.”

The Seventh Prince was dumbfounded. “What? The two birds are dead?”

Ding Yi’s eyes filled with tears as she stammered, “This morning, after returning from your quarters, I let them sun in the garden. Later, they wouldn’t eat or drink, and before nightfall, they were all dead.” As she spoke, she knelt and kowtowed. “It was this servant’s negligence—I didn’t take proper care of them. Master, direct your anger at me. Since joining your household, I’ve failed in my duties and have no face to see you. Beat me, scold me—only then will I feel better.”

“You might feel better, but what about me?” Hong Tao was too shocked. His birds had died so confusingly—it was simply unbelievable. “They were fine this morning. How could they just die so suddenly… Get up, get up… You just said someone poisoned them. Who did it?”

“It won’t be difficult to investigate. Not everyone can freely enter and exit the inner garden of the temporary palace. The Gosikha guards live in the Western Seventh Compound, and to enter the palace, they must pass through security. We’ve only just arrived, and none of the eunuchs or palace maids serving here would dare do this. It must be someone with a previous grudge, destroying someone’s livelihood for personal revenge.” Turning his head, he asked Sha Tong, “Have you inquired about who was on duty? Which people were moving about after the morning watch today?”

Sha Tong said, “In reply to Your Highness, our Chun Prince’s household staff cannot enter the palace without a summons. I checked the entry records, and only the Seventh Prince’s guards, Liao Datou and Qian Chuan entered the inner garden.”

Ding Yi exclaimed, “Liao Datou chatted with me in the garden—at that time, he was alone, and I didn’t see Qian Chuanzi. Could it be a diversion tactic? One keeping me talking while the other secretly poisoned the birds?”

The situation was clear—they were all brutes with courage but no wisdom, acting on impulse. They thought the birds’ death would bring blame to their caretaker, but unfortunately, they were shortsighted. The moment they bent over, their intentions were exposed.

“Today they poison birds; tomorrow they might poison people,” Hong Ce said. “The nation has its laws, and households have their rules. Committing violence in the palace—if news of this leaks out, the Seventh Brother will have no way to explain when he returns to Beijing. Servants who are disloyal to their masters, knowing the birds were beloved possessions yet poisoning them to vent personal grudges—such people should be made an example of, to deter others.”

The Seventh Prince’s anger was like thunder in the twelfth month, carrying a certain desolate and frightened flavor. He called out loudly for Na Jin, “Damn it all! Summon Shou Heng, Liao Datou, and Qian Chuan for me. If I don’t deal with them today, the Yu and Wen characters in my name can be written backward!”

The Seventh Prince stormed off like a gust of wind. Ding Yi looked anxiously at the Twelfth Prince, who smiled reassuringly and said to Sha Tong, “Call in all the guards who caused a commotion at Yanzi River post station that day. They’re a disloyal bunch—if there’s rot, it starts from the core. If they don’t confess, someone else will, or they’ll turn on each other like dogs fighting—either way, it works.”

Hearing him speak this way, Ding Yi felt that the Twelfth Prince wasn’t as simple as he appeared on the surface. He was a gentle person, but when decisive action was needed, he was swift and forceful. However, she had only known him for just over two months—such a short time was far from enough to understand a person.

Meanwhile, the Seventh Prince, as if he had eaten gunpowder, was raging in Wende Hall. He was a martial artist with excellent leg strength. As several servants knelt before him, he didn’t even ask for explanations before kicking each one in the solar plexus. The subordinates, having been beaten, dared not speak much. They crawled back up to kneel again. He took a snakeskin whip from the wall and, with a coarse voice, berated them: “I’m full of anger today, returning only to encounter this kind of thing. Do you think your master is too easygoing, deliberately causing me trouble? People say to keep dogs to guard the house, but you’re the opposite—causing trouble at home and harming your master. Tell me, who poisoned my birds? Don’t think about covering for each other. I may usually let you run loose, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind. Confess honestly—either punish the ringleader, or all three of you will report to the King of Hell. Don’t keep me waiting—speak!”

Shou Heng stammered his defense: “In reply to Master, this servant spent the entire day at the carriage and horse camp arranging supplies. The further north we go, the colder it gets. In case we can’t reach a post station, we need to prepare materials for making fires and staying warm. Although I didn’t enter the palace, this incident is due to my negligence. I know I’ve failed Master and request severe punishment.”

The Seventh Prince spat, “Worthless steward! Do you need to personally handle these matters? Are all your subordinates dead? Lax discipline is indeed your fault, but now I want the poisoner.” He turned around, his eyes fixing intently on the other two. “Speak quickly while I still have patience. If you anger me further, I’ll press you flat!”

His tone was chilling, and Ding Yi trembled with fear as she stood to the side. Looking up, she saw Qian Chuanzi putting on a blank face and playing dumb. “Master, in your wisdom, it’s true that Liao Datou and I entered the palace today. We reported to you and left without delay. Mu Xiaoshu is the bird expert—if something goes wrong with the birds, ask him. Besides, the palace is strictly guarded; who would dare to poison them? Perhaps he simply neglected them, and the birds died from poor care?”

The Seventh Prince’s lax household management and his pattern of big thunder but small raindrops had long been figured out by his people. Seeing Qian Chuanzi’s manner made Ding Yi angry, and she retorted, “I did meet Liao Datou in the garden—we even spoke, and the palace eunuchs can testify. But I must ask you: I didn’t see you then—where were you? Are you still holding a grudge from before and taking the opportunity to target me? Harming me is one thing, but don’t touch my birds. Taking advantage of them because they can’t complain—what kind of hero does that make you?”

Hong Ce, who had been observing, had not spoken until Wei Kaitai brought in the imperial physician. After Wei swept his sleeves and bowed to both princes, Hong Ce said, “Qian Chuan’s words have some merit. We need to examine how the birds died—we shouldn’t wrongly accuse an innocent person.”

A young eunuch brought forward a tray with both birds. The Seventh Prince was heartbroken at the sight and sat in his chair, sighing deeply. The imperial physician set to work, plucking feathers from the birds’ bellies and cutting open the esophagus, removing their tiny stomachs. Because they were so small, how could they be examined? He used silver acupuncture needles. Fearing that too much time had passed and the poison had been digested, he also pierced the intestines. Everyone stared intently, as tense as if watching a coroner perform an autopsy, breathing heavily with anxiety. The result was crucial—if poison was detected, someone else had harmed them; if not, the blame would almost certainly fall on Ding Yi.

But healthy birds that hadn’t died from extreme heat or rainfall had suddenly died after settling in the temporary palace? The suspicious deaths indicated something fishy. After a while, the examination was complete. On the tray, a white cloth held more than ten needles in a row, their tips black. The imperial physician lowered his hands and reported, “Your Highnesses, these birds were poisoned. The poison is quite potent, though slow-acting, and administered in a small dose. From mid-morning until evening, much time passed, and some of it was metabolized, but traces can still be detected.”

Ding Yi felt the relief of having false charges cleared. She looked contemptuously at Qian Chuanzi, who was now silent, his eyes darting around. He probably thought that even if poison was detected, there was no evidence pointing to him. But he had forgotten what kind of person the Seventh Prince was—one who couldn’t be bothered to think deeply and was most comfortable with direct, brutal methods.

Hong Tao snorted with cold laughter. “Remarkable—I’ve raised such fine servants that they scheme against their own master. Shou Heng didn’t enter the palace; his crime of inadequate supervision wasn’t capital. As for Liao Datou and Qian Chuan, they can’t escape involvement. If you did it, I’ll kill you to avenge my birds; if you didn’t do it… then you’re just unlucky. To help take care of the birds!”

The kneeling men turned pale with shock. “Master, this… this…”

Hong Ce glanced outside, seeing that all the Seventh Prince’s guards had been summoned, and said, “Living in the same quarters, I don’t believe no one saw anything. This isn’t the time for brotherhood—whether you identify the culprit or all go down together, it’s your choice.”

The Seventh Prince was a bit stunned. Dealing with two wasn’t enough—was this going to clear out everyone? The Twelfth Prince’s approach was too harsh—did he plan to leave him without any guards?

Hong Ce had his intentions. To catch a thief, you need evidence. Since they couldn’t catch anyone in the act, relying solely on deduction to punish them wouldn’t necessarily convince everyone. People naturally rush to clear themselves when trouble arrives; once they hear about collective punishment, someone will surely step forward. Even if they didn’t see the poison being administered, they might have seen someone tampering with the bird food, which amounts to the same thing.

Liao Datou finally couldn’t bear it. He hadn’t expected that killing two birds would cost him his life. Terrified, his teeth chattered as he crawled forward on his knees, trembling, “Master… this servant did nothing! This servant only spoke a few words with Xiaoshu in the garden. I know nothing else…”

The Seventh Prince spat full in his face. “The most despicable thing is a coward like you—daring to act but not to admit it. What are you worth!” After a torrent of abuse, he turned and ordered, “Did you all see? Take him out and behead him!”

Immediately, there were cries of anguish. When truly facing death, everyone clings to life, crying and begging for mercy. Although poisoning in the palace was punishable by death, the victims were only birds—sacrificing two human lives seemed somewhat excessive. Hong Ce stopped the proceedings, “Let’s handle this differently. Fifty military strokes and banishment to the Xinger warehouse should suffice. No need to take their lives.”

The Seventh Prince’s face collapsed with anger as he sat in his round chair without speaking. Without his approval, no one could proceed, and they all stood awkwardly waiting. He looked around, “What are you waiting for? Proceed!” He waved his hand carelessly, “Disperse, disperse… all of you, go!”

The Seventh Prince was in low spirits, and no one wanted to stay and be scolded. Everyone acknowledged and was about to withdraw when he called out again, “Mu Xiaoshu, you stay.”

Ding Yi hesitated, then hunched her shoulders and returned to the hall. Hong Ce paused briefly but ultimately left.

After everyone had gone, whether the Seventh Prince wanted to scold her or devour her was hard to tell. She looked at him timidly, pushing the bird cages forward a bit. “Master, don’t be sad. The birds are dead and can’t come back to life, but fortunately, I was resourceful and got you two more. These birds are no worse than Feng’er and Yingying—they’re the same breeds. This lark knows thirteen routines, Master, take a look…” His horse-like face had turned so dark it was frightening. Ding Yi’s arms froze in mid-air, unable to advance or retreat.

The Seventh Prince snorted, “Good birds? Thirteen routines? How much silver did they cost?”

She opened her mouth in silence, then hesitantly said, “Birds and cages together, five hundred taels.”

“Five hundred taels—whose money was it?”

Did he even need to ask? Even if all the bones in her body were dismantled, they wouldn’t be worth five hundred taels. She lowered her head and said, “I don’t have money. The Twelfth Prince paid.”

“How dare you? Spending someone else’s money—don’t you feel guilty?” The Seventh Prince rose and paced around, clutching his chest and wailing, “You’re killing me! Haven’t I told you not to go to the Twelfth Prince with problems? I am your proper master—you should come to me! Why do you always forget? Is your head just there to make you taller, huh? Can’t your brain remember things? Is it filled with tofu? How many more times do I have to tell you? Give me a straight answer!”

The prince was utterly distressed. Ding Yi was scolded until her eyes welled with tears. “It’s just that I was anxious when the birds died—afraid you’d be angry, I quickly bought replacements so you’d feel better.”

“So it was for my sake? How can you say that? If the birds died, they died. What are two birds worth? Why did you run to him? What’s that about? Are you that afraid of me? I’m such a good master, so considerate—hard to find anywhere in the world. What are you afraid of? Explain yourself clearly. Would I force you to your death? Now you’re satisfied—owing a mountain of debt. How do you plan to repay it?”

He rattled on like an overturned cart of walnuts, leaving her speechless. A good master? Was he talking about himself? She hadn’t found him easy to deal with before, but now he was saying the birds’ death didn’t matter—it was simply incomprehensible.

Ding Yi forgot even to cry, staring at him blankly. “What do you want me to do?”

The Seventh Prince glared at her, wishing he could have her dismembered. Pointing his finger at the cages, he said, “Release them all! It makes me angry just to see them!”

That wouldn’t do. She hid the bird cages behind her back. “Five hundred taels of silver—we can’t waste money like that.”

Five hundred or even five thousand taels wouldn’t make the Seventh Prince blink an eye. “I said release them, so release them.”

She took a big step backward. “Master, Yingying, and Feng’er are both dead. Without birds, what am I doing here as a birdkeeper? Are you asking me to be idle while still receiving a salary?”

The salary was secondary; idleness was the problem. People with nothing to do tend to overthink—they need something to occupy them. He frowned, scratching his eyebrow. “It’s not that we don’t have money. Owing people isn’t acceptable—I can’t do that! If I want birds, I’ll buy them myself. I don’t need him to give them to me. And about that Shaanxi dog from before—either return it or reimburse him in cash, whatever amount he names. In any case, each household should manage its affairs. Once we’re clear, we won’t owe him anymore, and when we meet, we can do so openly and without burden.”

All this talk of “we”—the Seventh Prince felt this way of speaking best expressed his current thoughts. He had gone to a brothel today, and the courtesans had been extremely affectionate, hugging and caressing him. But facing those women, he had found their perfumed scent nauseating. He had slipped away shamefacedly and headed to a male brothel, where boys around fifteen or sixteen, all with smooth faces and good looks, entertained. But he discovered that didn’t work either—he stood at the entrance, unable to step inside. This was wrong, that was wrong… suddenly, he felt a chill throughout his body. What to do? Could it be he was no longer capable?

He stared steadily at the person under the lamp, finding Xiaoshu’s appearance still pleasing to the eye. He became somewhat dazed, propping his chin on his hand and murmuring, “Tree if only you were a woman. I wouldn’t let you be a Gosikha guard anymore—I’d make you my secondary consort.”