In Songfeng Hall, Xiao Yu still lay weakly in bed. Hearing commotion outside the door, she propped herself up against her pillow.
Liu Jue rushed into the hall and asked in a grave voice, “Xiao Yu, are you recovering well?”
“Thank you for your concern, my lord. Xiao Yu is fine — just needs a couple more days’ rest. How is Miss doing?” Xiao Yu asked with a faint smile, looking at Liu Jue. She knew Liu Ying had already gone to Tang Garden to guard A’Luo, and had set her mind at ease.
“A’Luo still hasn’t woken. It’s strange — she looks as though she’s merely asleep, but if it were truly just exhaustion as the physician said, she couldn’t possibly still be unconscious three or four hours later, and nothing can wake her. So, Xiao Yu, I need you to tell me everything, in detail, about what happened when Wang Yanhui took A’Luo away!” Liu Jue said, looking at Xiao Yu with grave seriousness.
Xiao Yu’s face went pale with shock. “How could this be? There was nothing unusual at all when Wang Yanhui had the guards take Miss away!” She began recalling that moment: “Just before dawn, a squad of guards rushed into the secret chamber. Wang Yanhui said she wished to invite Miss to move to another location, and asked if Miss was willing. Miss answered very calmly, ‘Of course — so it turns out there’s a morning tea custom here too!’ Then she walked out without even glancing at Xiao Yu. About two hours later, someone came in claiming to be from the Black-Clad Cavalry, and took Xiao Yu out. He asked about Miss’s condition, then handed me off to someone who brought me out of the palace. Truly, nothing seemed unusual at all!”
“Don’t cry, Xiao Yu! Crying won’t help. Rest for a couple of days first, then go see A’Luo once you’ve recovered.” Liu Jue had gotten no useful information at all — nor had he learned anything from Anye. His heart burned with anxiety.
Prince Anqing thought deeply. “Are there any clues in that underground chamber of Wang Yanhui’s?”
Liu Jue’s eyes lit up. “Could the five thousand troops that suddenly appeared in the palace have entered through a secret passage from the underground chamber?”
“Very likely. I’ll have Anye go with you.” Prince Anqing decided at once. “Whatever you do, don’t let anyone spot you. These are extraordinary times — if the two of you were discovered sneaking into the Eastern Palace at night now, it could easily be mistaken for assassins with ill intent, and create a rift with the sovereign. That wouldn’t do at all.”
There was no time to lose. Liu Jue and Anye, both dressed in black and masked, quietly slipped in over the palace’s eastern wall. The moment they landed inside, they noticed someone at the nearby Jade Glass Palace. The two held their breath; Liu Jue signaled to Anye that Zili, not yet enthroned for another two days, was still residing at the Jade Glass Palace rather than having moved into the Jade Dragon Palace.
The two retreated quietly, and using the cover of trees and darkness, along with their intimate familiarity with the palace grounds, slipped silently into the Eastern Palace.
The Eastern Palace, once so lively and bustling, now stood silent in the night. Only two palace attendants remained on watch; not a sound stirred. Anye drifted forward like a wisp of smoke — Liu Jue silently admired how his lightness skill surpassed even his own. Such skill suited the Dove Group’s work perfectly. Anye hooked onto the eaves and flipped down at an impossible angle, peering through a gap in the window to survey the hall inside. By the faint cold moonlight, Anye carefully studied his surroundings; confirming no one was about, he signaled toward Liu Jue’s direction. Liu Jue sprang forward on the balls of his feet, gliding across like a night bird beneath the moon. One stood watch while the other gently pried open the window. In a single motion, they slipped into the Crown Princess’s sleeping chamber in the Eastern Palace.
Anye clearly understood the hidden mechanisms; with practiced ease he opened the entrance to the underground chamber, and the two descended the stone steps into the underground passage. The mechanism reset behind them, and all fell still once more. The floor and walls of the underground chamber glowed faintly — evidently built from some kind of phosphorescent stone. The two moved forward through the glow like ghosts, silent the entire way, communicating only through hand signals. Anye continuously signaled to Liu Jue the layout of the mechanisms here, explaining that one wrong step would trigger all manner of hidden traps and weapons. Liu Jue watched, his heart pounding with alarm.
Winding this way and that, the two soon arrived at the entrance to the stone chamber. Liu Jue began to understand — the winding passage outside the chamber seemed to form a maze built around the chamber itself. Without a guide, these glowing paths would look indistinguishable from one another; one could easily wander in circles forever. He couldn’t help but glance at Anye with admiration.
Anye gave him an amused look, then made a few quick gestures, explaining that as a member of the Dove Group tasked with gathering intelligence, disarming mechanisms was a basic skill.
Standing in the stone chamber, Liu Jue saw a large pool of blood several yards away, but no sign of Wang Yanhui’s body. He turned to look at Anye. Anye’s expression turned grave with surprise — could someone else have entered as well? He signaled for Liu Jue to hold back, then flicked his wrist, shooting out a nearly invisible thin filament that instantly embedded itself in the stone pillar across the chamber. Anye’s hand moved to test it—
Liu Jue suddenly sensed someone within ten paces and tapped Anye lightly. Anye retracted the filament instantly, and the two leapt up like bats, silently retreating from the chamber, pressing themselves tightly into a corner of the passage.
Five people entered from outside, also clearly skilled in martial arts, searching the chamber thoroughly. Liu Jue and Anye held their breath, drawing on their refined internal cultivation to breathe in the barest wisps of air. After a moment, one voice reported, “Your Majesty, no exit has been found in the underground chamber.”
The two startled — the newcomer was none other than Liu Fei.
Zili studied the stone chamber carefully. Besides the eight pillars and two stone chairs, there was nothing else. He stood somberly at the bloodstain, looking up at the severed rope still hanging from the ceiling. A’Luo’s condition when he’d found her rose again in his mind — already unconscious when he saw her, limp and lifeless as a broken rag doll. His heart ached beyond measure; he wished it had been himself hanging there instead, yet he hadn’t dared move rashly at the time, and in the end had no choice but to hold the woman who was determined to die in his arms. Now he couldn’t even bring himself to go see her, his own feet refusing to carry him out of the palace. Thinking of this, Zili glanced at the bloodstain on the floor with bitter resentment. Suddenly recalling the lingering look Wang Yanhui had given him before she died, he sighed deeply. “Has the Crown Princess’s body been properly laid out?”
“Already sent to the charity temple in the eastern suburbs, awaiting burial.”
“Decree that she be given a proper burial! Interred in the consort’s mausoleum!” Zili gave the order flatly. “Since there’s no exit here, seal this place off. Destroy the mechanisms and fill in the entrance, ten feet deep.”
“Yes!”
Zili glanced once more at the severed half-rope still hanging in the air, then said, “I had already ordered Vice Minister Cheng to handle this matter. Tomorrow, tell him it’s already been sealed.” With that, he turned and left with a sweep of his sleeve.
Only once the sound of his footsteps faded completely into silence did Liu Jue and Anye let out the breath they’d been holding. Liu Jue realized at once — there was no way out here, and Zili meant to seal the chamber. The two exchanged a glance, then leapt up and dashed swiftly toward the entrance. Just as they rounded the bend out of the passage, Liu Jue grabbed Anye — ahead, basket after basket of earth and stone were being dumped down the steps, quickly sealing the entrance completely solid. Clearly Zili had prepared the fill dirt before even entering the underground chamber.
Liu Jue shrugged, laughing. “Well, now we can talk.”
Not a trace of alarm showed in Anye’s eyes. He laughed softly. “This subject doesn’t believe Wang Yanhui spent three years just to build this simple pit. My lord, please follow Anye.”
Anye walked slowly through the passage, scattering black powder from his hand as he went, winding through several turns and back to the stone chamber entrance. Then he exited from another direction, scattering red powder as a marker. After repeating this several times, returning to the chamber entrance, his eyes were full of confusion. “My lord, the passage winds about, yet it leads only to this one chamber, with no other hidden doors.”
Liu Jue laughed heartily. “I don’t believe Wang Yanhui built nothing but this simple pit either, with absolutely nothing inside!” He strode into the chamber.
The eight pillars supporting the chamber were plain and unadorned; the two stone chairs could still be moved. Anye tapped through the floor tiles one by one; reaching the spot stained with Wang Yanhui’s blood, he couldn’t help but stamp his foot on it as well. Small dark openings in both walls hissed open with a sharp whooshing sound. Liu Jue startled, flipping backward — but no projectiles shot out. He shot Anye an annoyed look.
“Forgive my lord’s fright — if Liu Fei dared walk in so boldly, the chamber’s mechanisms must already be entirely disarmed,” Anye said, suppressing a laugh.
Liu Jue’s eyes followed the direction the openings pointed toward — aimed squarely at the middle-left of the chamber, where the severed half of a rope still hung from the ceiling, swaying faintly in the breeze stirred by the opening mechanisms. “Looks like it was cut with a blade,” he murmured to himself, observing it, then suddenly understood: “She hung A’Luo there meaning to shoot her dead?!”
Anye lowered his eyes. “She was rescued in the end, that’s what matters. The old Prince, worried you’d be troubled, told me not to go into detail.”
Liu Jue looked up at the rope, both furious and anguished. He had no idea how long A’Luo had hung there before losing her strength, no idea what else she had endured, up to now still unconscious. With a sharp cry, he leapt up and grabbed hold of the rope — he wanted to know what it had been like for A’Luo, suspended there. As his body relaxed, he swung gently on the rope, and before him the dense array of openings looked like so many serpents flicking their tongues — it chilled him to the bone. How frightened, how helpless A’Luo must have been. If Anye hadn’t arrived in time, those walls thick with arrows… Liu Jue shuddered, not daring to think further.
Anye sighed — this was what came of caring too deeply, clouding judgment. The one failure in the old Prince’s careful arrangements was not knowing when Wang Yanhui had tampered with A’Luo. He lowered his head and resumed tapping at the floor tiles, searching for the mechanism.
Liu Jue suddenly gave an “Ah!” of surprise. Anye looked up. He saw Liu Jue, still gripping the rope, staring ahead — then he leapt down and dashed straight for the chamber’s door lintel, reaching up and pulling out a flute. Liu Jue examined it closely — a perfectly ordinary flute, nothing special about it. After a moment’s thought, he raised it to his lips and blew; a small, headless arrow shot out, wrapped in a strip of fine silk.
Anye carefully picked up the little arrow and unrolled the silk. On it, several lines of delicate, elegant handwriting read: “Able to stand in her place, to understand her suffering, must be one who truly treasures and loves her deeply. Qingluo has been dosed with this concubine’s Soul-Losing Jade Guide Incense; she must be soaked for two hours in the ice spring atop Yuxiang Mountain’s imperial mausoleum to awaken. Only you can save her now — and after this, surely even Liu Jue can no longer compete with Liu Fei.”