Entering October, the frost deepened and dew grew heavy. The weather turned several degrees colder. Cloud masses accumulated in the sky, layer upon layer pressing down, yet no snow fell. When the clouds grew too thick to sustain themselves, rain would fall instead.

The rain would also stop when appropriate, so the dark clouds never dispersed, perpetually hanging above the palace buildings.

On the day of Minor Snow, the Annan merchant case concluded its trial.

In this case, Vice Minister He Xian of the Ministry of War had colluded with the former Prefect of Wuzhou Prefecture in Lingnan and a tea merchant surnamed Qi from Qiongzhou to sell large quantities of goods to Annan, obtaining enormous private profits through corruption and bending the law. His crimes were unpardonable, and he was sentenced to capital punishment by beheading.

Other implicated personnel—former Director Wu Jizhi of the Ministry of Justice, the Chief of the Court of Judicial Review, the Minister of the Court of State Ceremonial, seven division chiefs from the Ministries of Personnel, Revenue, and Justice, and the new Right Vice Minister of the Ministry of Revenue—were sentenced to exile or flogging. Numerous other officials were either dismissed from office or demoted.

The Chief Minister of the Cabinet and Left Censor-in-Chief, Liu Chaoming, wore his crimson robes that day and presented evidence at Fengtian Hall. Using several letters personally written by Emperor Jingyuan and the Seventh Prince Zhu Zhaowei during the Jingyuan era, he impeached the Second Minister of the Cabinet and Minister of Justice, Su Jin, accusing her of also being implicated in the Lingnan merchant case.

However, because the letters personally written by Zhu Jingyuan and Zhu Zhaowei mostly concerned investigating Su Jin’s background, their contents were ambiguous and could not serve as ironclad evidence for prosecution. First-rank Duke and Minister of War Gong Quan, together with Minister of the Court of Judicial Review Zhang Shishan, vigorously defended Su Jin. Therefore, Su Jin’s charges and the depth of her involvement still required investigation.

Even so, after this day, Su Jin’s “disappearance” to a certain extent became “fleeing in fear of punishment.”

This transformation came like a suddenly striking hurricane and rainstorm. Within just one month, the situation where Shen and Su confronted Liu Yun collapsed and disintegrated, becoming one where Liu Yun alone held overwhelming power.

Though there were dissenting voices in the court and countryside, they feared Liu Chaoming’s thunderous methods and didn’t dare make too much of a fuss.

Furthermore, with Su Shiyu “disappearing in fear of punishment” before and He Xian serving as “an example to deter all” after, plus the letters personally written by Zhu Jingyuan and Zhu Zhaowei displayed in Yan Ding Hall—even if people had doubts, they couldn’t very well direct those doubts at the late emperor.

Those from the original Shen-Su faction, or those inclined toward the Shen-Su faction, therefore went into hiding. On one hand, they sent messages out of the capital; on the other, they quietly awaited the return of Emperor Jin’an and Shen Qingyue.

He Xian was executed on the day of Minor Snow. The other officials sentenced to exile or demotion were also sent away from the capital within the following five days.

After the Minor Snow Incident, the entire court was somber. Though there was no snow, everyone’s faces bore frost.

Strangely, moving outward from the palace, passing through Zhengwu Gate and Chengtian Gate to the streets and alleys of Yingtian Prefecture, the farther out one went, the calmer it became. The turmoil in the court hadn’t affected the common people. Aside from the various government offices making a show of searching for someone recently, there was complete peace and harmony among the neighborhoods.

This struggle among those in power seemed to have its throat gripped. All the scheming, intrigue, and treachery were locked within the four walls of the palace by the moat flowing around it.

And those towering, layered deep halls—ordinary people felt they were beyond reach with just one glance.

A’Liu withdrew his gaze from the palace buildings and said to the carter waiting for him outside Chengtian Gate, “Thank you for your trouble.”

He had entered the palace to deliver supplies for Liu Chaoming. On the way back to the residence, he had the carriage detour to a general store to buy some items for women.

By the time he reached the Liu residence, it was past the hour of si. He then went to the kitchen and personally ordered a lunch meal prepared. He was best at taking care of people. In recent years, his temperament had calmed down. He had read some medical texts and knew that women’s constitutions were different—they required careful nourishment and care.

When A’Liu delivered the purchased items and lunch to Su Jin, he stood alone outside the study for a while.

She had been confined for over a month. A’Liu had initially thought she would make a fuss, think of escaping, would desperately beg him and Third Brother to take her out of the residence. He hadn’t expected otherwise.

But by the second day, Su Shiyu had calmed down. Every day she ate her meals properly. The rest of the time, she either sat at the desk reading or sat by the window watching the sky, as if resigned to her fate. Only the deep dark circles under her eyes let him know that she actually couldn’t sleep well, staying awake almost daily waiting for daybreak.

A’Liu actually wanted very much to help her.

He liked her very much—not romantic affection. He admired, even revered such a person: intelligent and perceptive, resilient and self-controlled, like another Liu Yun.

A’Liu pushed open the study door. “Master Su, time to eat.”

He used to call her “Young Master Su.” Since learning she wasn’t a young master, he respectfully called her “Master.”

Su Jin set down the scroll in her hands, watching as A’Liu took out the dishes one by one from the food box. There were many varieties, each in small portions, but all exquisitely prepared.

“How are things outside?”

She asked this question every day.

A’Liu’s hand paused while arranging the dishes. Liu Chaoming had instructed them not to speak to Su Shiyu about court matters.

But he wasn’t actually discussing court matters.

“Everything is fine. Silver charcoal burns in the room, so Master Su perhaps hasn’t noticed—after Minor Snow, each day has been colder than the last. This morning when A’Liu entered the palace to deliver clothing for My Lord, he heard the guards at the palace gate complaining, saying that in past years, snow should have fallen by this time. The snow doesn’t fall, yet it’s this cold—even chilblains are appearing earlier than in previous years.”

He mentioned “Minor Snow” again.

Yesterday when she asked him, he said that after Minor Snow, My Lord hadn’t returned to the residence, but because the weather was cold, he needed to send him some clothing.

The day before when she asked, he said that after Minor Snow, the vegetable vendor delivering to the residence came half an hour later each day.

Minor Snow was just a solar term—was it some important date?

Su Jin picked up her chopsticks, smiled slightly, and said, “After Minor Snow, An’ran hasn’t come to see me. Is he very busy?”

Hearing this, A’Liu’s face turned white, and he said nothing.

Indeed.

Something major must have happened on the day of Minor Snow.

Su Jin brought food to her mouth. As she chewed, she counted the days in her mind.

Today was the thirteenth of October. She had been under house arrest for over a month. On the second of September, she had returned to her residence after meeting Qi Boyuan. Though she hadn’t explained to anyone why she went home, Qi Boyuan had not only met with her but also with Liu Yun. She and Liu Yun were like fire and water—her people had no reason not to suspect Liu Yun.

If they suspected, why had no one come to search?

There were two reasons. First, they didn’t dare. Second, they couldn’t. With her and Shen Xi absent from the palace, Liu Yun could cover the sky with one hand—hence they didn’t dare. With her imprisoned and both Zhu Nanxian and Shen Qingyue absent from the capital, this was Liu Yun’s best opportunity. He would surely sweep away her entire faction in one net—hence they couldn’t.

Every time A’Liu mentioned “Minor Snow,” there was fear in his eyes, indicating that something heart-stopping must have occurred on that day.

Therefore, Liu Yun had most likely made his move on that day.

How would he have moved?

Su Jin slowly put down her chopsticks and closed her eyes in deep thought.

He would definitely use a case. Exactly which case need not be deeply considered. The most effective method would be to define her “disappearance” as fleeing in fear of punishment, then execute one of her most capable subordinates with the highest rank to deter all officials, then exile or dismiss others deeply implicated under related charges, thus dismantling her influence to a certain degree.

And which of her high-ranking subordinates would Liu Yun have targeted?

Su Jin opened her eyes again, looking at the table full of exquisite dishes. She pointed her chopsticks at one dish. “There’s a minister in the palace named He Xian, Vice Minister of the Ministry of War. His birthday happens to be just after Minor Snow. He loves eating water bamboo shoots more than anything. This year happens to be his fortieth birthday celebration—I wonder if he got to eat any.”

A’Liu, who had been resting his chin on his hand by the table, heard this and his elbow slipped. His chin nearly knocked against the table.

Su Jin’s gaze dimmed.

He Xian was dead.

But then she thought—his death was also good. With a dignified third-rank vice minister executed, those below wouldn’t dare act rashly. Having killed this “one,” at least the remaining “hundred” could keep their lives.

As soon as this thought emerged, Su Jin felt inexplicably alarmed—when had she also become so iron-hearted as to play chess with human lives? And these were her own people’s lives at that.

She set down her chopsticks and took a cloth to wipe the corners of her mouth.

A’Liu asked, “Has Master Su finished eating?”

Looking at several dishes that remained untouched, her appetite was still so poor.

He felt guilty, and even his usual chatter was cured without medicine. He silently packed away the food box and was about to leave when Su Jin called him again.

She smiled once more, but unlike her usual weak smiles, this one carried a hint of brightness mixed with a touch of bitterness.

“A’Liu, will you help me with something?”

Hearing this question, the stone that had been hanging in A’Liu’s heart for a month finally fell—he had been hoping to help her all along. Only by helping her would his heart feel somewhat better.

But the next moment, he became afraid again.

My Lord had instructed that if Master Su disappeared, everyone in the entire residence would be buried with her. He wasn’t afraid of dying for Su Jin, but he was afraid of Third Brother dying. In this world, Third Brother was his only family.

Su Jin continued, “Don’t worry, I’m not trying to leave the Liu residence.” She smiled again. “I just want to ask you to help me find someone.”

A’Liu still didn’t respond. He hesitated for a moment, set the food box aside, closed the door, and carefully asked, “Who?”

“Zhao Lin,” Su Jin said.

She coaxed him gently: “You also know that Liu My Lord and I have reached this situation—neither of us can turn back. What the situation is in the palace and court, I don’t ask, and even if I asked, you wouldn’t answer. But Zhao Lin has followed me these years and is no longer a court person. I’m afraid he’ll suffer because of this matter. Will you go to Su residence for me and have him leave the capital?”

A’Liu hesitated somewhat, not knowing whether to consult with Third Brother first or simply agree to Su Jin.

Seeing him silent, Su Jin knew his heart had already softened. She didn’t press.

She had been confined to the Liu residence on the second of September. Even if her people didn’t pursue Qingyue until three days later, Shen Xi should have turned back to the capital by late September at the latest.

Shen Xi hadn’t returned, which could only mean one thing—information from the capital had been blocked.

To temporarily cut off information channels, one would need to simultaneously control two offices: the Office of Transmission and the Ministry of War.

Zhou Ping was one of Liu Yun’s faction.

After being confined to the study for over a month, Su Jin had thought things through very clearly. Back when Zhou Ping failed the spring examinations, he had originally planned to return home to seek employment. Later, he unexpectedly stayed in the capital and, as a candidate without having served a probationary period, entered the Yingtian Prefecture office. In less than two years, he was promoted to assistant magistrate.

Su Jin habitually didn’t like to inquire into others’ private affairs. Thinking about it now—how had Zhou Gaoyan obtained his position as assistant magistrate?

She had an innate trusting lack of defensiveness toward those close to her and had never investigated him.

But at this critical juncture, the Office of Transmission was no longer a concern. What mattered was the Ministry of War.

Liu Chaoming’s reasons for killing He Xian were actually threefold. The first was the well-known deterrent example. The second was to block information—Left Vice Minister Chen Jinsheng of the Ministry of War was Zhu Yushen’s man. With He Xian in the Ministry of War, Chen Jinsheng’s actions were too constrained.

The most lethal was the third point—when Zhu Yushen returned to the capital to report, he had surrendered military authority. Because Zhu Nanxian wasn’t in the capital, the tiger tally was temporarily kept by the Ministry of War. But the Ministry of War was now under Chen Jinsheng’s control, which meant the tiger tally was still in Zhu Yushen’s hands.

The forces that returned to the capital with Zhu Yushen and returned to the Northern Grand Camp numbered over ten thousand soldiers in fifteen battalions of a thousand each. Adding the Brocade Guard, Zhu Yushen and Liu Yun had over twenty thousand troops in the capital.

In the second year of Jin’an, when the court consolidated reinforcements for the northwest campaign, they had transferred troops from various military camps and commissions. From the Northern Grand Camp, aside from the Twelve Imperial Guards, almost all had rushed to the northwest to be incorporated into the new army. In other words, only sixty thousand Imperial Guards now remained in the capital.

Zhu Nanxian had told Su Jin that although the Imperial Guards numbered sixty thousand, excluding those managing ceremonies and guarding imperial tombs, only about thirty thousand could actually fight.

In other words, if Zhu Yushen and Liu Yun could find a way to prevent Zhu Nanxian from bringing heavy forces back to the capital, they would have the strength to battle Zhu Nanxian—and actually, Zhu Nanxian hadn’t originally planned to bring heavy forces back to the capital. The northwest campaign had only reached a temporary conclusion. Border defense was originally a matter of national importance. His slow journey was precisely to station the northwest new army at various regional military commissions.

The urgent matter was to let Zhu Nanxian know of the capital’s danger, to have him turn south, gather troops from Nanchang, Anqing, and other prefectures, and attack the capital.

He was the rightful Emperor Jin’an. With one call, millions should respond.

And how to inform Zhu Nanxian of this message…

Su Jin looked at A’Liu. He was still deliberating.

“You needn’t even help Zhao Lin leave. He came from military registration and formerly served in the Five Cities Military Commission—he has plenty of connections. You only need to help me deliver one message.”

“What message?” A’Liu asked hesitantly.

Su Jin said, “I keep a parrot named A’Fu. It’s very particular about people. Without me and its original master, I’m afraid it won’t survive. When you see Zhao Lin, help me ask him—after leaving the capital, can he first take A’Fu to find its original master?”

That parrot called A’Fu—A’Liu also knew it and had seen it once. Back then it was still young and couldn’t mimic speech.

What Master Su entrusted really couldn’t be considered a major matter, A’Liu thought.

So he nodded. “Alright, A’Liu will go to Su residence today.”

Having said this, he picked up the food box beside him and exited the study. Just as he closed the door and turned around, his entire person froze.

Beside a single sparse plum tree blooming with early winter blossoms stood Liu Yun in the cold.

He didn’t know when Liu Yun had returned, didn’t know how long he had been standing outside the study, and even more didn’t know whether he had heard their conversation just now.