Su Jin personally drafted the letter and had someone take it to the Office of Transmission. When she returned to the central courtyard, she saw that the door to the duty room on the left was tightly closed—Liu Chaoming had returned at some point.
Su Jin gazed at the door with a calm expression for a long while, then said to a clerk on duty in the central courtyard: “Go to Zhengyang Gate and ask Regional Inspector Zhai Di to enter the palace to see me.”
The clerk acknowledged and hurriedly left.
Su Jin pondered for another half day before stepping forward to knock on the door. In a moment, Liu Chaoming’s voice came from inside: “Come in.”
He was writing something with his brush. When Su Jin pushed the door open, he didn’t raise his head, only asking: “Is there something?”
Su Jin said: “My lord, I’ve already sent the urgent dispatch to Shanxi Circuit. I came especially to report this.”
Liu Chaoming made an acknowledging sound and glanced up at her. Seeing her turn back to close the door, he asked: “What else is there?”
Su Jin thought for a moment and said: “My lord, has this past year treated you well?”
Liu Chaoming finished writing the memorial in his hand, then took twelve external correspondence letters transmitted from various circuits, planning to review them with a green brush.
Seeing this, Su Jin walked forward and silently took the brush resting on the desk and cleaned it in the brush washer.
While reading the correspondence, Liu Chaoming said: “Why are you asking this?”
Su Jin took a piece of green ink, moistened it with water and ground it, then took up a brush to dip in the ink: “Should this official not ask?”
Liu Chaoming glanced at the brush—the touch of green on the wolf-hair tip was like a new sprout about to emerge in early spring: “Should you ask?”
Su Jin presented the brush to Liu Chaoming: “Officially, my lord is a hall official of the Imperial Censorate and has shown recognition and favor to this official. Privately, my lord has repeatedly saved me from danger, and as a descendant of Grandfather’s old friend, you treat Shiyu as an elder brother would. For Shiyu to reciprocate such kindness and therefore care about my lord—should I not ask?”
Liu Chaoming held the brush and slowly circled an error in the correspondence, his wrist suspended as he annotated: “I’ve always been the same. There’s nothing particularly good or bad.” But he still understood something of Su Jin’s meaning, so he set down the brush and looked at her: “Speak. What else do you have?”
Su Jin met his gaze: “I wish to ask my lord for someone—Regional Inspector Zhai Di, also known as Zhai Qiguang.”
Liu Chaoming frowned slightly. After a long while, seeming to recall who this person was, he nodded slightly and said: “Mm, intelligent and thoughtful, able to discern the subtle and know the significant—he’s someone worth cultivating.” He added, “Since you are Assistant Censor-in-Chief with the authority to employ people, if you need to deploy anyone from the Imperial Censorate in the future, just inform Zhao Yan. He’ll direct someone to register with the Ministry of Personnel. You need not come ask me again.”
Su Jin clasped her hands in a bow: “Thank you, my lord.” She then made to withdraw.
Liu Chaoming picked up his brush again. Though he didn’t raise his head, he asked: “Being a censor—is it truly good?”
These exact same words had also been asked by Zhu Nanxian.
At that time, Su Jin’s answer had been: to restore order from chaos, to maintain inner clarity, to no longer pass days in muddled confusion.
But when the same words were asked by Liu Chaoming, the meaning seemed somehow different.
Su Jin thought for a long while before saying: “Why would my lord ask such a thing?”
Liu Chaoming’s brush paused: “Should I not ask?”
Su Jin was silent for a moment before saying: “Wasn’t it my lord who taught this official that being a censor should be like sailing a boat in the dark night, heading only toward the bright moon?” She paused and looked at Liu Chaoming, saying slowly: “Has my lord forgotten? My lord’s aspiration is also Shiyu’s aspiration.”
Su Jin closed the door and stood in the courtyard for a long while. There was an old tree in the courtyard, its vigorous branches映against the pale winter sky, appearing deep and vast.
Su Jin looked up at this old tree for a while, then presently walked out of the courtyard.
Liu Chaoming pushed open the door. A clerk nearby came over and said: “Lord Liu, just now Lord Su sent someone outside the palace to summon Regional Inspector Zhai Di. Should I investigate this?”
Liu Chaoming looked toward that old tree. The straight branches extended extremely long, but toward the end, they suddenly split left and right into two ends, like people who had been traveling together suddenly parting ways.
Liu Chaoming’s heart felt heavy. He suddenly recalled Shen Xi’s words: “Aren’t you afraid someone will go straight for checkmate?”
Checkmate?
He was silent for a moment, then said: “No need. From now on, whoever Censor Su wishes to employ, there’s no need to inquire about it.”
When Su Jin returned to her office hall, Zhai Di was already waiting inside. She had someone close the door, then brought Zhai Di to the book pavilion on the side and said straight to the point: “I’ve already had someone investigate you. You’re from Shu, originally not surnamed Zhai but Chen, and you’re only twenty-one this year. Clever since childhood, you passed the scholar examination at seventeen and became a recommended candidate. Unfortunately, because your elder brother loved gambling and stole the silver meant for your father’s medical treatment, causing him to die, you became enraged and accidentally killed your brother in a fit of anger. Afterward, you fled to Hangzhou, changed your name to Zhai Di, and after passing the provincial examination, fearing that your fame would attract too much attention and your true identity would be discovered, you didn’t dare take the imperial examination. You came to the Imperial Censorate as a Regional Inspector. Is that correct?”
Zhai Di was stunned. His very young face was full of astonishment, his slender eyes lowered, his thin lips slightly pressed together.
Su Jin poured a cup of tea and handed it to him, saying lightly: “I also know that the indentation above your eyebrow is the scar left when you killed your brother.”
Zhai Di’s heart shook greatly. He didn’t dare accept the tea and immediately knelt down, saying: “This official is guilty. Please punish me, Lord Su.”
Su Jin placed the tea on the desk and looked at Zhai Di: “I will not punish you.” Then she said, “I value your tenacity, thoroughness, and ability to discern the subtle and know the significant. I ask you—from now on, are you willing to follow me?”
Zhai Di looked up in astonishment: “My lord?”
Su Jin’s eyes were blazing like fire, making one dare not look directly at them: “But I have one requirement of you.” She paused. “Two words: loyalty.”
Zhai Di was stunned and said: “Though this official’s past was flawed, since entering the Imperial Censorate, I dare say I’ve made no errors and have always been loyal and devoted.”
But Su Jin said: “The loyalty I speak of is not loyalty to the Imperial Censorate, nor loyalty to the Chief Censor, and certainly not loyalty to this dynasty or to the current Emperor. Rather, it is loyalty only to me.”
Zhai Di stared at Su Jin blankly for a long while, then after a moment lowered his gaze.
Su Jin said: “I will not have you do things that violate morality or human relationships. But the court is currently filled with various factions. In the future, it will certainly not be smooth sailing. If iron chains block the river and brocade sails crash through the waves, you and I may fall beneath the torrents. I can only guarantee that in the future, if I, Su Jin, have a bowl of porridge, I will not short you a spoonful. If I have an inch of ground to stand on, I will not deprive you of a fraction.”
Her tone deepened: “Naturally, I’m merely a fourth-rank censor with weak foundations. Following me may not be a good choice—perhaps not as good as following no one at all. Think it over carefully again.”
Having spoken, she lifted her foot and left the book pavilion, heading to Chengtian Gate to investigate the case.
Su Jin had inherited Minister Xie’s teachings. From childhood she had been perceptive and penetrating, seeing through things like fire. Before the age of eighteen she had passed the imperial examination with high honors, serving successively as a Hanlin compiler, county clerk, prefecture secretary, and as a censorial inspector for over a year. She could see through these bureaucratic tides—some rowed oars while others held the rudder.
Something as significant as constructing a traveling palace—with Shen Xi’s wisdom and Liu Chaoming’s capability, how could the two of them not know everything clearly?
Even this Petition Drum case—while it appeared confusing to outsiders, it was actually just a few instigators in the palace creating mystery.
Liu Chaoming and Shen Xi clearly knew, yet they suppressed it without revealing it, keeping it secret.
Why?
Su Jin understood that the court was filled with various factions where pulling one hair moved the whole body, so every step had to consider the overall situation.
She could even understand that Shen Xi, because of his family, was deeply entangled in the political situation, so he planned carefully before acting, always leaving three parts of leeway in everything.
But she couldn’t see through Liu Chaoming.
What was that dark room? What was he seeking?
Su Jin couldn’t remain silent about all these cases.
She recalled what Yan Ziyan had said to her before his execution—in this court where all horses stand silent, someone must make a sound.
She could only hope that one day, there would be idle people, censors, who could bring up these matters so that names like Yan Ziyan and Xu Yuanzhe could see the light of day again.
After Su Jin finished investigating the case at Chengtian Gate and returned to the Imperial Censorate, it was already the hour of You. The sky had long since turned completely dark, and lamps were lit everywhere at the palace gates. She had just stepped into the book pavilion, planning to organize the case files a bit, when she suddenly discovered that Zhai Di was still standing in the distance waiting for her.
Upon seeing Su Jin, he prostrated himself deeply: “A wise bird chooses its tree to nest in. This official, Zhai Qiguang, is willing to serve before my lord’s saddle and behind her horse for this entire life, with no regrets even unto nine deaths.”
Su Jin looked at him silently for a while, then handed him the case files along with the portrait of the poisoned woman from the Petition Drum, briefly explained the dispute between the Third Prince and the Ministry of Rites, and instructed: “Follow the Ministry of Rites to the Third Prince’s residence to apprehend people. You’ll undoubtedly encounter many obstructions, but I’m giving you three days to find a woman who resembles the portrait and determine the cause of the incident clearly. Can you do it?”
Zhai Di bowed respectfully to Su Jin: “The most difficult part has already been done by my lord. What remains is merely following procedure. If this official cannot accomplish even this, there will be no need to follow my lord in the future.”
After Su Jin returned to the capital, she had originally stayed at the Reception Temple, but her current status made lodging there truly inappropriate. Fortunately, Tan Zhaolin had extensive connections, and within two days, he had arranged a residence for her in the eastern part of the city.
The residence had two courtyards. Tan Zhaolin brought his devoted wife over to manage the meals, then hired a steward called Uncle Qi. Finally there was a place to settle down.
Su Jin reviewed the case files of the Petition Drum case several times. Many doubts could only be answered once the Regional Inspector from Shanxi sent his reply. There was only one point she couldn’t understand—
In this case, Magistrate Qu and Scholar Xu had deliberately committed suicide at the Petition Drum. But the last woman to die had clearly been poisoned with strychnine. This poison would only cause death several hours after ingestion, with the specific onset time varying by person. So why was it such a coincidence that the woman had her poisoning manifest and fell into the water just after reaching Chengtian Gate and striking the Petition Drum?
What part had gone awry to create such a coincidence?
On the way rushing to strike the Petition Drum? The Petition Drum itself? Or the moat outside Chengtian Gate?
On this day, after finishing her duties, Su Jin first went to Chengtian Gate to carefully examine the Petition Drum. Finding nothing suspicious, she then came to the moat and crouched down to carefully look at the river water.
Yan Xiu and Song Jue had originally been leaving duty with her. Seeing that Su Jin hadn’t left, the two didn’t dare leave either and could only crouch in a row with her, staring at the water without understanding why.
Tan Zhaolin had already brought the carriage to pick up Su Jin. Seeing the three of them like this, he poked his head over from the side and asked: “What’s there to look at?” He added, “My lord, do you want to bathe? When we get back to the residence, I’ll have my wife heat water for you.”
Su Jin shook her head and stood up: “Go borrow a wooden bucket and a hemp rope from the guards.”
Tan Zhaolin complied. Song Jue, finding him clumsy, tied the hemp rope to the bucket himself and leaned out with more than half his body to draw water.
Just then, Tan Zhaolin suddenly called out “Your Highness” and then dropped to his knees with a thud.
Hearing this, Song Jue looked up and saw two men standing high on horseback on the other side of the moat—they were none other than the Twelfth Prince Zhu Qiyue and the Thirteenth Prince Zhu Nanxian.
Startled, as he leaned forward his center of balance shifted, and he fell into the water along with Yan Xiu who had been steadying him from the side, drawing loud laughter from Zhu Qiyue.
The moat water only reached their necks and couldn’t drown anyone, but the winter cold was bitter. The guards at Chengtian Gate hurried over to pull them out, but somehow their robes had gotten tangled together and they couldn’t exert force.
Zhu Qiyue laughed again, drew a dagger from his waist and tossed it over: “Catch.”
Using the dagger, the two cut open their robes and finally climbed ashore. Kneeling on the ground, they paid their respects to Zhu Qiyue and Zhu Nanxian while presenting the dagger to return it.
Su Jin and Tan Zhaolin were both stunned when they saw this dagger.
Engraved on it were nine swimming pythons with fierce expressions—wasn’t it very similar to the one Zhu Nanxian had gifted Su Jin before?
Zhu Qiyue bent down and retrieved the dagger with one hand, laughing: “Why kneel? You two should change out of these wet clothes first, lest you fall ill and I waste a good deed.”
His eyebrows swept into his temples, his eyes long and narrow. Though he and Zhu Nanxian were both martial princes, he lacked some of the noble bearing of an imperial heir, instead possessing more of the chivalrous spirit of the martial world.
His gaze swept toward Tan Zhaolin, and he raised an eyebrow: “Commander Tan, we haven’t seen each other in years. Shall we pick a day for a match?”
Tan Zhaolin waved his hand and laughed: “In response to Your Highness, I’m no longer any commander.” As he spoke, his eyes stared fixedly at the dagger in Zhu Qiyue’s hand. He suddenly recalled that Zheng Yun had mentioned this dagger was called Nine-something-or-other, and it seemed to be an imperial gift?
Having followed Su Jin for over a year, Tan Zhaolin’s simple mind finally turned a bit—if it was an imperial gift, why had the Thirteenth Prince given one to Su Jin back then?
As Tan Zhaolin thought this, he also asked it: “Twelfth Prince, could you give away that dagger in your hand?”
The corner of Zhu Qiyue’s mouth curved as he said leisurely: “This is an imperial gift. Each prince has one. It’s a symbol of our Great Sui princes’ status. How could it be casually given away?” At this point, he suddenly frowned slightly and turned to look at Zhu Nanxian, whose expression was indescribable. He clicked his tongue and said: “Thirteen, I seem to recall that when Eldest Imperial Brother received this dagger years ago, he turned around and gave it to Imperial Sister-in-law. Wasn’t it their betrothal token?”