Su Jin froze for a moment.

She finally understood why Zhu Yushen said he knew Zhu Nanxian was in the northwest.

Zhu Nanxian had once been the ruler of this realm. With him in the northwest, Zhu Yushen, the current emperor, could not be at ease. So he needed a guarantee—a guarantee that Zhu Nanxian would never raise troops to seize the throne, no matter what.

This guarantee could only be Su Shiyu, whom he cherished and protected with his entire life.

As long as Su Jin was held in the court, Zhu Nanxian in the northwest would not dare act rashly.

Que Wu said: “His Majesty says, although the northwest is a military stronghold, to this realm it is but a tiny piece of land. Should it come to a fight to the death, though the northwestern army could hold out stubbornly for some years through desperate resistance, they ultimately could not withstand the military might of the entire realm. His Majesty does not wish to wage war on the northwest, nor does he wish to see the people suffer. If Lord Su could return to the court, peaceful coexistence would be best for all. This is His Majesty’s consideration from the perspective of the current situation.”

Su Jin listened without uttering a word.

Yet Que Wu turned the conversation: “However, considerations of the current situation are not the most important reason His Majesty invites Lord Su to return to the capital.”

“His Majesty says there is only one true reason he invites Lord Su to return to the capital. With the construction of the capital city in Beiping and the imminent relocation of the capital, the court is short of talent. Capable ministers for governing are few in all the realm. The administration of officials overseen by the Imperial Censorate is of paramount importance. Relying solely on Lord Liu alone, it may be difficult to sustain. Apart from Lord Liu, looking across the realm, no one is more suited to this great responsibility than Lord Su.”

As he spoke, he bowed deeply: “Lord Su, His Majesty is someone who greatly cherishes talent. You may not know—this past January, when His Majesty returned victorious from Annan, he already issued an order pardoning the exile sentences of those under your former command, such as Ministry of Justice Bureau Director Wu Jizhi and others. When their sentences are completed in June, he will send people to escort them back to the capital. His Majesty says he knows that since entering office, Lord Su’s aspiration to plead for the people has never changed. Should Lord Su return to court, whenever people are needed, these officials you were once familiar with may be deployed at your discretion.”

Su Jin originally wanted to ask—back then, the Annan merchant case had such major implications. To pardon so many people’s crimes all at once, wouldn’t that be child’s play to the court and countryside?

But as soon as this thought flashed through her mind, she felt she had worried unnecessarily.

Zhu Yushen was, to a certain degree, extremely similar to Liu Yun—ruthless severity, gentle conciliation, magnanimous benevolence, slaughter and massacre—all just means to an end. Moreover, as the son of heaven who ultimately ascended the throne after great waves washed away the sand, he was even more unfathomable. He could be treacherous and despicable, breaking faith in one matter, yet keep his promises like gold and be humble as a valley in another.

The Annan merchant case was originally just a trumped-up charge from Su Jin and Liu Yun’s internal power struggle. Now that Zhu Yushen wanted to use people, wouldn’t it be easy to kill a few who judged the case back then and gloss over it with the phrase “wrongful conviction”?

As for summoning her back to serve as Left Chief Censor, having her return to the Cabinet—whether it was to cherish talent, to govern the country, to restrain Zhu Nanxian, or to add her as a counterbalance to the court situation while Liu Yun and Shu Yu stood in confrontation and Shen Qingyue sat on the mountain watching tigers fight—all these various reasons had long been mixed together, impossible to distinguish clearly.

Such unfathomable imperial intentions, deep as the sea.

Seeing Su Jin remain silent, Que Wu glanced at the two guards kneeling nearby.

Understanding, the guards stepped into the courtyard and delivered the crimson robes, the Imperial Censorate’s official seal, and the tuntion case files all into Su Jin’s study.

Que Wu bowed with clasped hands again: “Lord Su, this subordinate should have remained in Shu to wait until you finish investigating this case, then escort you back to the capital. However, this subordinate is His Majesty’s guard, and military affairs in the capital are urgent—I must return a step early. His Majesty has already sent down an imperial decree. When Lord Su thoroughly investigates the tuntion cases, throughout Shu, whether officials of the prefecture office or the Regional Military Commission, high or low, all will follow your orders. Should you wish to return to the capital, the Regional Military Commission will naturally dispatch soldiers to clear the way and escort you.”

Having finished speaking, he led the two guards, performed another bow to Su Jin, and withdrew.

The courtesy was thorough and exceptionally respectful—not performed for the criminal official Su Jin, but for Left Chief Censor Su Shiyu.

After Que Wu left, Su Jin stood for a long time in the courtyard.

Wind arose between heaven and earth. Under the eaves, a flowering tree rustled.

On the tree, a thick branch split left and right, extending extremely long. Though clearly going in opposite directions, as if they would never intersect again in this life, they still put forth leaves and bloomed flowers. Winding back and forth, tracing their origins vertically and horizontally, in the end they interwove as vigorously as fire.

Different paths leading to the same destination.

Su Jin turned back toward the house.

Inside, the crimson robes rested on a high platform. The vermillion color reflected the light—clearly extremely bright, yet profoundly still.

Back when she left the Imperial Censorate, she had countless times wanted to don these censor’s robes again. Now that her aspiration was within reach, she hesitated.

The crimson robes blazed like fierce fire. She honored them, valued them, respected them, feared them. Once worn, how could they be lightly removed?

Su Shiyu suffered countless hardships in her youth, lonely and miserable. In this life, she was fortunate to have one person who regarded her as a treasured jewel in his palm, a bright pearl in his eyes, moonlight in his heart. He seized the realm for her, abandoned the realm for her, poured out his life to cast ten thousand beams of light across her storm-wracked existence.

She was not meant to be someone who dwelt on romantic feelings.

But if there was anything in this life that could equal her aspirations, it would be the wish to spend her life together with Zhu Nanxian.

She didn’t know if all things in this world sought balance and the middle way—if feelings ran too deep, fate grew shallow. Fighting desperately to stay together for life, in the end, they were still separated by heaven’s distance.

That day when they parted, she told him: Between you and me, how does it matter if we see each other day and night?

Actually, she was also persuading herself.

If two hearts remain true for long, why must they be together morning and evening?

The sunlight grew stronger, flowing over the crimson robes and official seal. Su Jin reached out to touch them.

“Shiyu.” Someone nearby suddenly called her.

In this courtyard now, only two people could enter without announcement—Tan Zhaolin and Chao Qing.

She had just been thinking so intently that she hadn’t noticed the two of them had returned.

Chao Qing’s gaze fell on the crimson robes and official seal. He hesitated for a moment, then said: “Just now, Zhaolin and I ran into His Majesty’s guard, Lord Que Wu. He did not avoid us—he has already conveyed His Majesty’s imperial intention.”

Su Jin made a sound of acknowledgment but didn’t continue that line of conversation.

After a while, she asked: “Yunsheng, Zhaolin, what are your plans for the future?”

Tan Zhaolin said: “What plans could I have? Wherever you go, I’ll follow you and protect you, that’s all.”

Chao Qing smiled: “I’ve grown accustomed to living in Shu. Once the Cuiwei Town case is concluded, perhaps I’ll return to Cuiwei Town, or perhaps move to another place and open a new private school to teach and educate.”

He paused, finally asking: “Are you… going to return to the capital?”

Su Jin lowered her eyes without speaking. After a long time, she said softly: “I haven’t decided yet.”

The crimson robe’s satin was as smooth as flowing water, soft beneath her palm. She smiled self-mockingly. “Actually, I have no choice. It’s just that my heart is attached to one person, and I cannot let go.”

Hearing her speak so candidly, Chao Qing also smiled faintly.

“Shiyu, do you remember what I said to you before we parted after the scholar case?”

Su Jin said softly: “I remember. You wished that I could use my abilities to clear away clouds and see the sun, love what I love, hate what I hate.”

But Chao Qing shook his head: “Not that line.”

He looked through the window toward the distance: “That day, I asked you to leave with me, saying I would take care of you for life. You leaned on the railing looking toward the palace buildings, hesitated for a moment, then said you wanted to stay. So I asked you whether you already had someone you cared for in this deep palace.”

“Shiyu, over these years, I’ve constantly recalled the scene of our parting that day. I know well that you are a decisive person. If you wanted to stay and be a censor, you wouldn’t hesitate for even a moment. So I was certain that your indecision at that time was only because of one word—feelings.”

“But looking at things now, I was too hasty, and underestimated you.”

“In the years since we parted, you and I have often exchanged letters. I’ve read each of your letters multiple times and remember them clearly.”

“I remember in the first two years, you told me about handling cases in Suzhou, managing flood control in Huguang. You pitied the people’s suffering, worried about state affairs, had soaring ambitions. In the twenty-fourth year of Jingyuan, you single-handedly brought down Zhu Jiyou, exposed the Shanxi Palace case, requested merit monuments be erected, allowing thousands of craftsmen to escape from suffering with food to rely on—your fame shook the realm.”

“But by the twenty-fifth year of Jingyuan, your letters no longer spoke of these political matters. You rarely even mentioned how you yourself were doing.”

“Actually, even without you saying it, I knew. The court situation was a whirlpool, factions stood everywhere. You were trapped in it, struggling to survive. Lost in confusion, you lost your direction. Around you were either life-and-death allies or enemies. Under imperial power rife with conspiracies, righteousness instead receded into the background.”

“I regretted it then, wondering why I hadn’t insisted on taking you away. In my anxiety and distress, I even wanted to go to the capital to share your hardships. But I was alone, with little power—what could I do by going to the capital? I might even be held hostage, becoming a weakness to control you.”

“I’m not afraid to tell you—I’ve always resented your choice to stay in the palace.”

“Until this very day, when you and I reunited.”

“When I saw that Minister Su, who had already become a criminal official, working tirelessly without shirking responsibility when seeing the people suffer and officials oppress them, making this her first priority even at risk to herself, I knew Su Shiyu was still that Su Shiyu—no matter what, she would never change.”

“So I finally understood that years ago, when you looked toward the palace buildings and hesitated in that instant before deciding to stay, it was not only because you had someone you cared for in the deep palace, but also because there was another person who made you develop supreme reverence for the duty of being a censor.”

When Chao Qing reached this point, his tone slowed, each word falling like stones sinking into water, stirring ripples: “Shiyu, since you have no real choice, why not reclaim that old feeling of reverence from years ago?”

Why not reclaim that old feeling of reverence from years ago?

The hand resting on the crimson robes suddenly tightened. The wrinkles rising from the satin were like ten thousand waves surging across the river of her heart.

Su Jin’s expression gradually deepened. She turned and gathered the Left Chief Censor’s official seal in her palm, ordering: “Zhaolin, summon Jinzhou Prefecture Provincial Administration Commissioner Ma Lu, Regional Military Commission Commander Tian You, witness Cuiwei Town resident Old Wu, implicated official Zhang Zhengcai and other officials for this official. This official will immediately thoroughly investigate the Shu tuntion cases.”