Zhao Yan said: “You are the Chief Censor. His Majesty ordered you to remain on night duty, so you cannot leave easily. I’ll go instead.”

So saying, he picked up the official hat resting on the desk. Upon reaching the door, he retreated a few steps and asked: “Liu Yun, don’t you find this matter extremely strange? The Assistant Minister of the Court of Imperial Entertainments—that’s just a fifth-rank position, isn’t it?”

His implication was clear: a powerless fifth-rank official, even if his rank was somewhat higher, where did he get the audacity to issue orders imperiously in front of the capital’s government office, before the very eyes of the Assistant Minister of Justice?

Liu Chaoming didn’t raise his head, merely hummed in acknowledgment and said: “This Court of Imperial Entertainments should indeed be investigated.”

Zhao Yan smiled: “Good, as long as you have a plan.”

Yang Zhiwei, having received the Thirteenth Prince’s order, led all the officials large and small from the office back to Retreat and Reflection Hall, but didn’t dare rest. While arranging a seat for Su Jin, he ordered someone to prepare medicine.

When the medicinal decoction arrived, he carefully supervised Su Jin drinking it, then cautiously pointed toward the outside: “Magistrate Su, did you invite this great buddha?”

Su Jin was about to rise to respond when Yang Zhiwei pressed her back down: “Alright, alright, alright—the noble person seeks neither fullness in food nor comfort in dwelling. Don’t speak. It’s this official who shouldn’t have asked.”

Sun Yinde, who had been tormented all night, also pointed outside: “It’s easy to invite a deity but hard to send one away. Magistrate Su, if the one you’ve invited can protect us, then all is well. But if he cannot? Then we’re finished. Not a single person in our office will escape—we’ll all be implicated along with you.”

Hearing these words, Yang Zhiwei’s heart sank with a thud. He couldn’t help saying: “This official will go take another look.”

What he saw truly shocked him—ignorance was bliss, but knowledge was terrifying.

Yang Zhiwei had just stuck his head out through the prefectural office gates when his calves began trembling, and he found himself kneeling right there on the threshold—

He was but a minor prefect who followed the law scrupulously. Normally, upon meeting anyone of higher rank or greater authority, he wished he could break his own legs and crawl on the ground in greeting. What had he done today to deserve even the second-in-command of the Imperial Censorate coming to cause trouble?

Zhao Yan examined the Ministry of Justice roster carefully by firelight, pointing to one entry: “It’s precisely this Magistrate surnamed Su.” Then he addressed the two kneeling on the ground: “Assistant Minister Ma, Assistant Minister Lu, the Imperial Censorate is reviewing this case, and there is an urgent matter requiring verification. We must immediately summon Magistrate Su to the palace for interrogation. Surely neither of you lords would refuse to give the Imperial Censorate this small courtesy?”

What could the others dare say? They could only kowtow: “Lord Zhao may take whomever he wishes.”

Zhao Yan then turned and bowed to Zhu Nanxian: “Thirteenth Prince, then this subject will escort Magistrate Su to the palace?”

Though he spoke of escorting a prisoner to the palace, when he came, what followed behind him was a carriage, not a prison cart.

From this, it was clear the Imperial Censorate would not mistreat Su Jin.

Zhu Nanxian saw this, yet remained uneasy. Even if the Imperial Censorate didn’t use torture, once someone was sent into the palace, when could they be returned? If after the Imperial Censorate finished their interrogation, the Ministry of Justice came demanding the person, what then?

Zhao Yan observed Zhu Shisan’s expression and bowed even more deeply, adding: “Your Highness may rest assured. Those taken by the Imperial Censorate will be safely returned by the Imperial Censorate. We absolutely will not harm a single hair on his head.”

Zhu Nanxian also knew that continuing this way was not a solution.

Though he was a legitimate imperial prince, he had no authority to try cases or arrest people. Moreover, this current matter was an enormous case—if his imperial father pursued it, if his imperial brother pursued it, how should he explain? He wasn’t afraid for himself, but what about Su Jin?

The only option was to transfer custody to the Imperial Censorate.

Zhu Nanxian’s lips pressed into a thin line. After a long moment, he slowly nodded: “Fine. Take him.”

This night seemed extraordinarily deep and long. Zhu Nanxian watched Su Jin board the carriage with Zhao Yan, watched the carriage gradually recede into the dark night streets and alleys, until it disappeared.

A familiar sense of powerlessness climbed cruelly into his heart.

Assistant Minister Ma cautiously approached to consult him: “Your Highness, you see…”

Zhu Nanxian kicked over the adjacent eight-immortals chair: “All of you, get lost! Arrest whoever needs arresting—don’t bother this prince!”

The assembled officials large and small could only exchange confused glances, raising torches to verify and arrange the so-called principal and suspected offenders on the roster.

Yet Zhu Nanxian sat dejectedly on the steps amid this silent flowing crowd.

Yes, this sense of powerlessness—he had experienced it once before, five years ago.

At that time, having obtained Su Jin’s couplet matches, Zhu Nanxian presented them to Zhu Minda the next day.

Though Zhu Minda was unwilling to let his thirteenth brother go to the northwestern garrison, he was after all the heir apparent. Adhering to the principle that a ruler’s word is binding, he could only approve the request.

Zhu Minda said: “Since you’re determined to follow the martial path, your imperial brother won’t stop you. But you are still an imperial prince. When you return from the northwest, I think we should find someone to properly teach you scholarship.” He paused, then asked thoughtfully: “With your temperament, ordinary people cannot teach you. In your mind, is there any suitable candidate?”

For once in his habitually simple-minded life, Zhu Shisan showed cleverness. He said: “Reporting to imperial brother, whomever imperial brother deems suitable is suitable.”

Zhu Minda gave him a meaningful look, then left with a flick of his sleeves.

Actually, Zhu Nanxian knew that if his imperial brother was determined to investigate, the matter of his consulting Su Jin about couplets would eventually be exposed.

But he also thought that Zhu Minda had always been hard-mouthed but soft-hearted. This matter didn’t count as a great error. He was the noble Crown Prince—surely he wouldn’t make things difficult for a mere minor Hanlin scholar?

Zhu Nanxian hadn’t guessed wrong, but the problem was that by that time, Su Jin had already offended the Ministry of Personnel.

On the very day he presented the couplet to Zhu Minda, the Ministry of Personnel had already administered private punishment to Su Jin, then charged her with dereliction of duty and submitted a memorial to the imperial desk.

By the time the Grand Secretariat drafted the directive and dispatched it to the various offices, Su Jin’s life already hung in the balance.

Zhu Nanxian only learned of this matter three days after the directive came down.

The palace servant who came to report said: “Though the sentence was eighty strokes of the staff, this slave heard that the person crawled out from a pile of corpses with only a breath of life remaining. When the directive came down, before the Hanlin Academy could say anything, the old Censor of the Imperial Censorate became angry first and wanted to help overturn the case. The memorial had already reached the Crown Prince’s desk, but for some unknown reason, Your Highness said to set it aside for half a day. It was precisely this half-day delay—the person was sent away by the Ministry of Personnel. I heard that even when Censor Liu of the Imperial Censorate drove his carriage in pursuit, he couldn’t catch up. The old Censor also fell ill from anger.”

Though born in the treacherous deep palace, Zhu Nanxian had from childhood been shielded from external conflicts and secret battles by his elder brother who was like a father. His loving mother, the late Empress, had cherished him in the palm of her hand. Even the usually harsh and exacting Emperor Jingyuan showed him more leniency than his other sons.

Because of this, he had always lived quite simply.

So simply that he had developed a stubbornness bordering on willful obstinacy.

From the palace servant’s words, he understood only one point—the old Censor’s memorial reached the desk, yet Zhu Minda said to set it aside for half a day.

Zhu Nanxian thought he perhaps understood why there was that half-day delay.

Zhu Minda had long known it was Su Jin who wrote the couplet matches for him, so he was too lazy to look at it and casually set it aside for half a day.

It was precisely because of this half day that Su Jin was sent away by the Ministry of Personnel, life and death unknown.

Gripping his Majestic Might saber, Zhu Nanxian charged all the way to the Ministry of Personnel, heedless of those trying to stop him. His mind still couldn’t comprehend how someone who had been like clear wind and bright moon just days before could be reduced to a single breath of life in the blink of an eye.

The Ministry of Personnel’s officials large and small knelt across the floor. Zhu Nanxian said in a deep voice: “That bastard surnamed Zeng, get your ass out here!”

Zeng Youliang was so frightened that he hid under his desk, trembling uncontrollably.

How keen were Zhu Nanxian’s ears and eyes? With one stroke of his blade, the desk split in half.

Zeng Youliang prostrated himself on the ground, trembling as he begged for mercy: “Thirteenth Prince, this subject was wrong, I beg Your Highness to spare my life, I beg Your Highness to spare my life…”

Zhu Nanxian paid no attention. With another stroke of his blade, fresh blood spurted forth—an arm went flying.

But it wasn’t Zeng Youliang’s.

A minor clerk had lunged forward from the side, blocking this stroke for his Minister.

Zhu Nanxian wiped the blood from his face and laughed coldly, raising his blade to point at the trembling people kneeling in the hall: “You love blocking blades? Believe it or not, for every one who comes forward, this prince will kill one?”

With those words, the final stroke fell.

The blade tip was blocked one inch from Zeng Youliang’s nose by a sword hilt thrust out from the side. Simultaneously, an explosive shout came from behind: “You reckless thing! The imperial father still lies on his sickbed, and you make such chaos?!”

It was Zhu Minda arriving with the Feathered Forest Guards.

Zhu Minda was beside himself with rage, pointing at Zhu Nanxian: “Someone, take this unfilial wretch back to the Eastern Palace!”

Zhu Nanxian was seized by the Feathered Forest Guards and dragged stumbling back to the Eastern Palace.

He remembered—that was the first time Zhu Minda had beaten him, personally wielding a rattan whip to lash his body stroke by stroke, each one delivered with full force.

Heavy rain poured down. At first Zhu Nanxian still felt the pain, but once drenched by the rain, he seemed to lose all sensation—including sensation in his legs.

Even when Zhu Minda’s arm grew sore and numb from striking, he refused to stop. Finally, the Crown Princess saw what was happening and threw herself forward to take a long lash for Zhu Nanxian, crying out: “Your Highness, stop beating him! If you continue, Thirteen will lose his life…”

The rain fell like a torrent. Zhu Minda lowered his hand, took a deep breath and asked: “Thirteen, do you know your error?”

Zhu Nanxian still knelt upright. Hearing this question, he seemed to just then return from his thoughts.

He looked up blankly at the vast deluge of urgent rain pouring from heaven and earth, then turned to look at Zhu Minda, his expression becoming extremely sorrowful in that instant.

He asked: “Imperial brother, why did you set the memorial aside for half a day? Was it because of me?”

In that instant, Zhu Minda’s eyes also reddened. The whip in his hand fell to the ground. After a long while, he said chokingly: “Thirteen, you must understand—this Su Jin, he is a man.”

Two days later, before the wounds on Zhu Nanxian’s body had healed, Zhu Minda ordered him carried onto a carriage and sent to the northwestern garrison.

To this very day, he still hadn’t figured out what his imperial brother’s final words actually meant.

Was he saying Zhu Nanxian had the cut-sleeve inclination? But he had later gone to pleasure houses and only felt his hair stand on end.

But if he didn’t have the cut-sleeve inclination? He had also visited the Qinhuai River entertainment district and never encountered a woman who moved his heart.

Zhu Nanxian’s simple mind had never contemplated such intricate and complex matters. After they became a tangled mess, his method of dealing with it was to shake his head, stand up, and order: “Someone prepare my horse. This prince is returning to the palace.”

Zhao Yan brought Su Jin back to the Imperial Censorate. Liu Chaoming was just taking another case file from the bookshelf. Seeing Su Jin, he excused her from the courtesy and said: “Come with me.”

So saying, he pushed open an adjacent compartment. The compartment was not large but exceptionally clean and tidy. Besides the usual desk and cabinets, there was also a green bamboo couch.

Su Jin followed behind Liu Chaoming. Seeing the compartment’s furnishings, she paused and asked: “My lord, what is this place?”

Liu Chaoming said mildly: “The Imperial Censorate customarily requires overnight duty. When I’m truly exhausted, I rest here.”

The teapot on the small table still steamed—it appeared freshly brewed. Beside it were pastries.

Su Jin fell silent for a moment, then said: “Is my lord not interrogating this subordinate?”

Liu Chaoming glanced at her and said: “That also requires you to be alive.”