In the evening snow that sealed the sky, Liu Chaoming descended the steps, frost condensing in his eyes: “What’s going on?”

Censor Liu said: “In response to Lord Liu, Lord Su said she just saw someone on Xuanyuan Terrace and wants to know who it was. This humble official has already sent a guard to inquire.”

Su Jin stood leaning against the wall, turning her face away, not looking at him.

Her hair was somewhat disheveled, her downcast gaze was confused, and her tightly pressed lips trembled slightly—whether from cold or worry, it was unclear.

Liu Chaoming’s gaze fell on her hands locked in the cangue.

Her slender fingers were frozen bright red, the knuckles already bruised purple in patches. Her wrists were scraped raw—probably injured when she fell just now—and still seeping blood.

His brow furrowed slightly.

Censor Liu beside him saw Liu Chaoming’s expression and his gaze also fell on Su Jin’s wrists.

Having long been at court, who didn’t know that the two Lords Su and Liu were close, and it was said their families were even old friends? See, even when Lord Su committed a crime and was being escorted back to the palace, Lord Qian from the Imperial Censorate had given extra instructions to treat her with courtesy—the punishment cangue was just for show and would be removed once she reached the Ministry of Justice.

Censor Liu said: “This cangue is too heavy, and the weather is cold. If Lord Su waits in the snow like this, she’ll surely suffer frostbite.” He took out a copper key. “Why don’t this humble official first help remove the cangue for you, My Lord?”

Before he could step forward, the chains clanged sharply. Su Jin moved aside a fraction and actually avoided him.

Censor Liu froze in embarrassment and looked toward Liu Chaoming again.

Who knew Liu Chaoming also had a cold expression and rebuked: “Have you lost all sense of propriety?”

Fortunately, not long after, the guard who had gone to find someone returned.

Half a step behind him were Imperial Censorate Censor Yan Xiu and a person cloaked in an ink-colored cloak.

In the night, this ink-colored cloak was like a solitary boat drifting from the vast sea of snow. Su Jin stared in a daze, unable to help but want to walk closer.

But she was much more clearheaded than before—she desperately wanted to see him, yet also hoped it wasn’t him.

The black-robed person approached and removed his hood: “This servant Ma Zhao pays respects to Lord Su.”

The waves repeatedly stirred in her eyes by anxious thoughts instantly returned to calm.

But within this calm remained a trace of hesitation.

“You were the person standing on the east terrace railing just now?” Su Jin asked.

Though Ma Zhao was an inner servant, his build was rarely tall and upright among eunuchs. Viewed from afar, he did indeed resemble him.

“Yes, this servant has now been reassigned to attend at Minghua Palace. This evening I came to the front hall of the palace to discuss year-end matters. When they said the person in the snow was Lord Su, I stood on the terrace railing to look at you for a while. After all, I previously cared for you at Weiyang Palace for two months. Seeing you with such a solitary figure in the wind and snow, I found it difficult to let go.”

Su Jin continued: “Since you attend at Minghua Palace, then you…”

Speaking to this point, she suddenly stopped of her own accord.

Even if she asked, what result could she obtain?

Just like these three months—confined in darkness in the Liu residence study, not knowing how much the outside world had changed, who went and who stayed, who lived and who died, with no one saying a word to her. Even if she asked, it would only add one more A’Liu, one more person who couldn’t tell her anything.

“Lord Su,” Censor Liu called out.

Su Jin straightened up. Without looking at him, and also without looking at Liu Yun or Yan Xiu, she turned back to glance once more at the empty east terrace railing, then trudged through the snow, step by step, toward the Ministry of Justice.

She knew the way and didn’t need others to lead her.

Only after Su Jin’s figure had completely disappeared did Ma Zhao step forward to bow again: “Lord Liu, Lord Yan.”

Yan Xiu made a sound of acknowledgment: “How is His Majesty?”

Ma Zhao said: “In response to Lord Yan, His Majesty’s appetite remains poor these days. These past two days he has barely eaten. But last night, His Majesty suddenly summoned this servant, saying he wanted some lamp candles and lamp oil.”

Yan Xiu asked doubtfully: “The lamp oil at Minghua Palace isn’t sufficient?”

“It is sufficient, but His Majesty said he can’t sleep at night and wants to read some books. He also finds the snow’s light disturbing and wants to light more lamps to block out the snow’s light.”

Yan Xiu said: “Since His Majesty has given the order, then handle it immediately.”

“Yes, this servant has already spoken with the Court of Imperial Clan Affairs. It just so happens that people from the Court of State Ceremonial said that this autumn, they purchased a batch of lamp oil from the Western Regions. I heard this oil was originally lit before Buddha—the fire it burns, even if doused with water or snow, can burn bright and never be extinguished. This servant is just now going to fetch it for His Majesty.”

Yan Xiu glanced at the sky: “Then hurry and go, lest you delay His Majesty’s reading.”

“Yes.” Ma Zhao bowed but didn’t leave immediately. “There is one more matter that His Majesty instructed this servant when he handed over the cloak just now. His Majesty said he wishes to see the Fourth Prince.”

At these words, Yan Xiu couldn’t readily respond either. He turned to look at Liu Chaoming’s expression.

Snow poured down on the ink velvet, piece by piece refusing to melt.

Liu Chaoming stood silently for a moment and asked: “When does he wish to see him?”

“Today. He wants to see him today.”

Liu Chaoming said: “Understood. You may go.”

This year’s snow fell too late. The Bureau of Astronomy submitted a memorial saying it was because the rear palace was vacant—no empress, no consorts, the Emperor had no heirs—and therefore Heaven was punishing all living beings. By early twelfth month, Dowager Consort Qi and Dowager Consort Yu, who managed the rear palace, led a group to Bao’en Temple to pray for snow. The Fourth Prince’s consort, Shen Jun, accompanied them.

Before leaving, fearing that Zhu Yushen would be alone in Chunyu Pavilion with no one to care for him, she requested permission for Zhu Yushen to go to Bao’en Temple together.

With Shen Xi absent and Liu Yun not managing rear palace affairs, Shen Jun’s request was approved by Zhu Yushen’s mother, Dowager Consort Qi.

After Ma Zhao left, Liu Chaoming ordered: “Send someone to Bao’en Temple. Say His Majesty summons him. Have the Fourth Prince return to the palace immediately.”

Yan Xiu said: “Yes, this humble official will have the Embroidered Uniform Guard fetch His Highness.”

Liu Chaoming asked again: “What did the investigation at the Court of Imperial Entertainments reveal?”

Yan Xiu said: “It has been confirmed. On the day His Majesty returned to the palace, the poisoned wine at Minghua Palace was indeed prepared by Director Yu of the Court of Imperial Entertainments.”

The so-called “poisoned wine” had originally been placed at the evening meal at Minghua Palace on the day Zhu Nanxian returned to the capital. Fortunately, before Liu Chaoming left the city to meet the imperial carriage, he had the foresight to order all the dishes at Minghua Palace tested. When poison was discovered in the wine, it was immediately discarded.

“This matter has some history. Years ago when the Eastern Palace and the Seventh Prince were at odds, the Seventh Prince used the Ma residence and Lord Su to set a trap, wanting to ambush and kill His Majesty. If you still remember, Lord Ma of the Ma residence was the former Director of the Court of Imperial Entertainments. This current Director Yu was able to rise to his present position precisely because he received Lord Ma’s patronage back then. He kept this favor in his heart. After taking office, everything he handled was proper.

“It was only this time that he presumed to guess the intentions of the Fourth Prince and yourself, took matters into his own hands and prepared poisoned wine for His Majesty. Later, when your people discarded the poisoned wine, he felt he had ruined things. He refused to admit it unto death and even added the superfluous touch of placing silver chopsticks. Fortunately, people from Minghua Palace came to report that His Majesty became angry upon seeing the silver chopsticks that day, otherwise this matter would have nearly been suppressed by this man surnamed Yu.”

After listening, Liu Chaoming said indifferently: “Such a person cannot be kept.”

Yan Xiu said: “This humble official already ordered action this morning.”

He paused, then said hesitantly: “It’s just that this humble official doesn’t quite understand—is My Lord unwilling… to watch His Majesty ‘die of illness,’ or do you have other plans?”

Having said this, he immediately bowed with clasped hands: “This humble official is presumptuous. If this question has offended My Lord, I hope My Lord will not take offense.”

But Liu Chaoming didn’t answer this question. He looked up at the snow pouring down between heaven and earth: “We’ll see.” He turned and headed toward Liuzhao Pavilion.

By evening, the wind and snow had lessened somewhat. Ma Zhao knocked on the door outside the inner palace of Minghua: “Your Majesty, the Fourth Prince has arrived.”

After a long while, Emperor Jin’an’s deep voice came from inside: “Let him enter.”

The finest lamp oil and candles had already been delivered, but Zhu Nanxian hadn’t used them, letting them pile in a corner, not allowing anyone to touch them.

Only two sparse lamps were lit in the inner palace—it was very dim, with many places not illuminated. But as soon as Zhu Yushen entered the palace gates, a quick glance revealed Zhu Nanxian leaning against the sleeping couch, sitting in a patch of darkness.

He closed the door, picked up a lamp stand from the high table beside him, walked toward him, and called out: “Shisan.”

Zhu Nanxian was propped on his elbow against the pillow, seemingly resting with closed eyes. Hearing this call, he opened his eyes to look at Zhu Yushen, then laughed bitterly.

Deep eyes, stern features, his entire person like a sharp blade, yet carrying an imposing bearing that couldn’t be taken lightly—where was there even half the appearance of a simpleton?

“Did Fourth Brother once suffer from this madness and then recover?” Zhu Nanxian asked.

Zhu Yushen was silent for a moment: “I never suffered from it.”

That is to say, after he fell from the cliff in the second year of Jin’an, in order to avoid returning to the capital to report for duty, he had concealed his talents and bided his time, genuinely playing the role of a simpleton for nearly two years.

Zhu Nanxian laughed again: “You even deceived Third Sister.” Then he asked, “Since you so wanted the imperial throne, back when Elder Brother died at Zhaojue Temple, I was imprisoned in the Eastern Palace, and Shiqi fled, you could have used Zhu Zhaowei’s hand to add fuel to the flames and killed me. Then, with no legitimate heir, you could establish the eldest—you could have righteously inherited the throne.

“With Liu Yun’s assistance and the Qi clan as your maternal relatives, even if Zhu Zhaowei wanted to compete with you, he wouldn’t be your match. Why did you have Liu Yun save me and personally rescue Shen Qingyue, only to nearly be drowned by Qingyue later?”

“Back then it was indeed the best opportunity, and I did indeed consider it.”

Zhu Yushen was silent for a moment, then said, “I had even set up a scheme three days after you were confined to the Eastern Palace, but—soon after, news came that Northern Liang was assembling troops. Having guarded the northern frontier for years, I naturally had to prioritize this. Moreover, at that time internal troubles were severe—battles had broken out in both Donghai and Lingnan. Northern Liang was assembling three hundred thousand troops, the Ministry of Finance’s military provisions were insufficient, and I had no complete confidence in repelling the enemy. I feared I might die in battle. Therefore, after deciding to go on campaign, I suppressed my thoughts of competing for the succession.

“As for why I protected you and Qingyue—Zhu Zhaowei’s insistence on keeping Zhu Qiyue in the capital while instead sending General Luo to campaign in Lingnan was a decision that chilled hearts. Even though Liu Yun argued strenuously, it was ultimately fruitless, so that later the court truly lost two great generals in succession. Watching this, I only felt that compared to Zhu Zhaowei, you were more suitable to govern—at least you wouldn’t lose your mind over this imperial throne. Therefore I protected you. If I was to protect you, I had to protect Qingyue.

“You need not ask—I indeed want the imperial throne. After making the decision to protect you, I also asked myself about the consequences. I knew you would eventually become suspicious of me, would order the reduction of my fief, might even have me executed. But that was the best choice at that time, and I could only bear the consequences. I had already thought it through then—if I could survive on the northern frontier battlefield, I would definitely return to fight for this imperial throne.”