When word of a haunting spread, a commotion stirred through the crowd. Ruyi was frightened and instinctively pressed closer to Ming Huashang. “My lady…”
Ming Huashang held her hand and said, “It’s all right. We’re inside a Buddhist temple — what ghost would dare make trouble before the Buddha?”
Ming Huashang remained relatively calm. Those around her had already begun trading words: “What’s going on? Which household is the Wei residence?”
“The Wei residence isn’t far — it’s also in Chongye Ward, just ahead, the one with the scholar trees out front. Master Wei had only just expanded the estate and was doing well for himself. How on earth did a haunting start?”
At that, someone in the crowd lowered their voice and said in a hushed, mysterious tone, “That’s what you don’t know — the Wei family deals in wooden puppets. Word is, their puppets have come to life and are walking about the whole estate.”
The onlookers all drew sharp breaths, clamoring with questions: “Is that true? Wooden puppets are made to serve the dead — if one of those things actually came to life…”
Ruyi trembled at the words. She had only just returned from Flying Rainbow Manor, where she had been thoroughly frightened by the eyeless female corpse, and she could least bear talk of ghosts and spirits. She clutched Ming Huashang’s clothing and said in a frightened voice, “My lady, let’s go quickly.”
Wooden puppets were burial objects buried alongside the dead, generally used by noble families during funerals. Nobles feared having no one to serve them in the underworld; in ancient times they had used living people as burial sacrifices, but the court had long since forbidden that practice, and wooden puppets had taken their place.
Because this trade was aimed primarily at noble households, the puppets were often carved with extraordinary realism and luxury; some families even had them carved to the same size as living people. The Wei family was a rather well-known establishment in the Divine Capital, a merchant house that dealt exclusively in wooden puppets.
A puppet-maker whose puppets had come to life — the novelty was sensational enough to draw many curious onlookers at once. That young manservant stood there with a mournful face, refusing to release the temple abbot, insisting that the abbot come to their home to perform a ritual.
Ming Huashang had not the slightest interest in another family’s haunting. Since Ruyi was frightened, there was no point staying. Ming Huashang led Ruyi out through the crowd.
In the glorious spring light, because of the haunting talk, even the sunshine seemed to take on a pale, wan hue. Walking through the temple felt cold and eerie. Seeing that Ruyi’s color was poor, Ming Huashang said, “It’s all right — we survived great calamity, and a long trail of good fortune awaits us. There’s nothing interesting here. Come, let’s go somewhere more lively.”
Ming Huashang led Ruyi out through a side gate to browse the market outside the temple. Ruyi was quick-witted, but she was only a girl of a little over ten — how could she not enjoy a market stroll? Yet she remembered they had come today to accompany the Old Madam in offering incense, and hesitated: “My lady, the Old Madam told you not to wander far. If we go out like this…”
Ming Huashang picked up a hairpin from a roadside stall and examined it, replying without any good humor, “If you don’t say it and I don’t say it, how would Grandmother ever know? Ruyi, look — what do you think of this hairpin…”
With Ming Huashang’s assurance, Ruyi immediately set aside her worries and happily began browsing the stalls. The craftsmanship of the common folk was far more modest compared to the ducal residence, but it had the advantage of being novel and charming. Ming Huashang strolled and inquired, asking questions with great care and detail.
Ruyi grew curious and asked, “My lady, what are you asking all this for? If you’re short on jewelry, have someone go to the South Market and have a new set made. How could these little folk trinkets ever cross the threshold of the Duke’s residence?”
Ming Huashang smiled slightly and said, “I’m just looking around casually.” She said little more than that.
She did not have many chances to go out, and she could not let them go to waste. She had not yet found a way to make a living for herself in the future — asking the common people here about the market was a way of seeing if there was any trade she could manage.
Such matters need not be told to Ruyi.
The two of them walked and stopped, and before they knew it, they had browsed half a street and were both somewhat tired. Seeing a stall selling jusheng pastries nearby, Ming Huashang said to Ruyi, “There’s a vendor selling jusheng pastries over there — go buy a packet. I’ll wait here.”
Ruyi agreed and headed straight over. Ming Huashang stood by the road to rest. She was taking in the view of the street when suddenly a freight cart came trundling down the road, blocking the sightlines on both sides. Ming Huashang was jostled backward. She was about to go find Ruyi when she suddenly heard a voice from behind her: “Second Young Miss Ming, a word, if I may.”
Ming Huashang’s body went rigid. The street was noisy — the freight carriers were calling out as they pushed their carts, and people in the crowd either hurried out of the way or grumbled under their breath. No one noticed this particular corner.
Ming Huashang dug her fingernails hard into her palm, forcing herself to stay calm. She did not turn around to look at the speaker and asked, “Who are you, sir?”
As she spoke, Ming Huashang’s gaze swept inadvertently toward the Buddhist temple. The Duke of Zhenguo’s household had naturally brought bodyguards today for their incense-offering trip to Bodhi Temple — they were all inside at the moment.
The person behind her saw clearly what Ming Huashang intended. He let out a soft laugh, at once mocking and threatening: “Miss Ming, we mean you no harm — but if you cry out, that may no longer be the case.”
Ming Huashang measured the distance from here to the temple, then glanced at Ruyi across the street buying jusheng pastries, and conceded: “May I ask who your master is?”
The person behind her was unmoved, and said coldly, “Miss will know once she comes inside.”
Ming Huashang had no choice but to follow them inward. She had only Ruyi with her — fighting head-on had no chance of success whatsoever. And this place was too far from the temple; even calling for help would not bring the bodyguards in time, and might only provoke these people.
Since she could not resist, she could only see what they wanted.
Ming Huashang was led into a teahouse. Along the way, she quietly took stock of her surroundings. The teahouse was decorated with refined elegance — scrolls of calligraphy and paintings hung along the walls, and the atmosphere was tranquil and secluded, conveying a sense of quiet amid the bustle. There were few customers inside; the proprietor worked an abacus behind the counter, and the tea servers busied themselves wiping tables inside and out, paying Ming Huashang no heed whatsoever.
Ming Huashang felt a chill settle deeper in her heart. That they had chosen a teahouse of such taste, and that aside from the initial threat the opposite party’s bearing could even be called distinguished and refined — this did not look like the work of common kidnappers after money or favors.
Yet that meant the problem was even greater. When someone sought neither money nor gratification, what they sought was something far beyond the reach of ordinary people.
The guide led Ming Huashang to the second floor and stopped before a private room, giving a soft knock: “Chief, she’s here.”
A response came from inside. The guide pushed open the door and looked at Ming Huashang: “Miss, please come in.”
Ming Huashang’s mood at this moment was difficult to put into words, yet she still gave the young man who had coerced her a smile, and with the resolve of one facing death, stepped into the private room.
The room continued the refined elegance of the space outside and was arranged with considerable ingenuity. A man wearing a black robe embroidered with gold sat at the table brewing tea. He appeared to be around forty, with an upright bearing, yet his features carried the gentle refinement of a scholar. Without lifting his head, he extended a hand and gestured to the seat across from him: “Sit.”
Ming Huashang was already too numb to feel much, so she simply gave up on pretense and sat down across from him without ceremony. The man unhurriedly added water to the purple clay teapot and said, “Having no other means, I could only meet with Miss Ming in this manner. My apologies.”
Ming Huashang smiled without any genuine warmth and said, “Think nothing of it. I was idle with nothing to do in any case. Has this spring’s Yangxian tea already been picked?”
The man in black finally raised his head and glanced at Ming Huashang. “Miss has a sharp nose.”
“You flatter me.” Ming Huashang smiled. “I have never excelled at anything — I only have a bit of sense when it comes to food and drink. Yangxian tea, a purple clay pot, snowmelt spring water — fine tea, a fine vessel, fine water. Today I get to enjoy the best of all three.”
The man looked at her, a smile resting at the corner of his lips. “How did Miss know this is snowmelt spring water?”
Ming Huashang smiled. “The way you brew tea, sir, is so accomplished — clearly you are an old hand at the art. Not having Jade Maiden Spring water would be a pity; apart from Mang Mountain spring water, what water could be worthy of such fine tea?”
The man smiled noncommittally, lowered his head to pour water, and said, “Drawing water from the snowmelt mountains is too much trouble — I have no such good fortune. This is nothing more than well water from Bodhi Temple.”
Ming Huashang did not even blink, and proceeded to heap on another round of compliments. Her mouth spoke flattery, but her mind was calculating rapidly.
She had called him “my lord,” and he had not denied it — this confirmed he was indeed an official. Among those she had recently offended who could also afford retainers, there were only a handful in total.
Her first thought had been that these were Princess Taiping’s people, but when she mentioned snowmelt water, he had denied it.
A vast swath of land outside Luoyang belonged to Princess Taiping’s estate — fetching water from the snow mountains was beyond most people’s means, but Princess Taiping had more than enough wealth for it. If it was not snowmelt water, then he was not sent by Princess Taiping?
Then the situation was even worse. Was it Prince Wei, Prince Liang, Prince Luling — or the former crown prince, now Prince Xiang?
The teapot began to hum. The man lowered his head to ladle water, and steam mist curled between the two of them, indistinct and obscuring. The man had his eyes half cast down, seemingly content to receive Ming Huashang’s flattery, when without warning he asked coolly, “Miss has been guessing all this time — have you arrived at an answer?”
The hands hidden beneath Ming Huashang’s sleeves went white from clenching. She knew that her life or death hinged on this very moment — whether she could walk out of here depended entirely on what she said next.
Ming Huashang steeled herself and decided to stake everything on a gamble: “This humble one is dull and foolish, of low station and little influence. I truly cannot imagine how I could have caught the eye of Her Imperial Majesty.”
The man set down the gourd ladle, lifted his head, and looked at her with a smile: “Miss is quite perceptive. Old Han’s judgment was right after all.”
Ming Huashang knew she had gambled correctly. Her fingers slowly unclenched, but her back was already drenched in cold sweat.
Princess Taiping was extravagant and lavish, utterly unconcerned with how many resources she expended just to keep up appearances. But Her Imperial Majesty was not fond of ostentation and waste; even as emperor, she lived simply.
If these were Princess Taiping’s retainers, a trifle like snowmelt spring water would be of no concern to her — but Her Imperial Majesty would not allow her ministers to indulge in such waste.
Ruling out Prince Wei and Prince Liang was simple enough as well. The Wu clan had risen along with the Empress and were now riding high, but Prince Wei was calculating and profit-driven, while Prince Liang was rigid and self-important; neither would bother with this sort of elaborate pretense. If Prince Wei wanted to trouble Ming Huashang, he would have had her knocked out and dragged away right there on the street — he would never have the patience to bring her to a teahouse.
Prince Luling had only just returned to the capital and was about to be named crown prince; he would have to be mad to stir up trouble at such a critical moment. As for Prince Xiang — though it was somewhat irreverent to say so — Ming Huashang genuinely felt that if he had the ability to draw in retainers of this caliber, he would not have spent thirteen years confined in the palace, living as a puppet.
Eliminate all the wrong possibilities, and the one remaining answer, however outlandish it might seem, is the only one.
That had been terrifyingly close. Ming Huashang had a premonition: had she guessed wrong and spoken the name of Prince Xiang or Prince Wei, the Ming family would have been cast into an abyss from which there was no return.
The man leaned back comfortably with his knee propped, waiting for the final round of the water to boil, and asked in an offhand tone, “I hear that Miss Ming rendered great service at Flying Rainbow Manor?”
“Not at all, not at all.” Ming Huashang’s breathing nearly stopped. She hurried to distance herself from any credit. “I merely spoke at random. It was entirely due to Her Highness Princess Taiping’s keen discernment and penetrating insight.”
“Is that so?” The man paid not the slightest attention to what Ming Huashang said and remarked languidly, “But I have heard that even before Miss Ming had laid eyes on the culprit, she had already guessed his temperament and habits to about eighty or ninety percent accuracy.”
Ming Huashang fell silent. She had only revealed her criminal profile in two places — once to Ming Huazhang, and once on the day of the arrest, when she had casually said a few words directing them to search for evidence in a certain location. Ming Huazhang would not have betrayed her, which meant someone had overheard her on the day of the evidence search.
There had been so many people there that day — she had assumed no one would notice her. How careless. Ming Huashang could have kicked herself for speaking up unnecessarily back then; and now, sure enough, she had brought trouble upon herself.
Ming Huashang chose her words carefully: “I was arrogant, poking my nose into a murder case. I only thought that a killer who both murdered and gouged out eyes must surely be vicious, arrogant, and at the same time deeply insecure — so I guessed at random. I was wrong, and I will never again treat such matters as a game. I beg you, sir, to be lenient and spare this humble one this once.”
As Ming Huashang explained herself, the man in black watched her in silence. The teapot began to rumble — steam gurgling and puffing from the spout in great heaving breaths.
A tea prepared through such an elaborate process would turn bitter if left to over-boil. Yet the man did not move, and Ming Huashang did not move either.
Ming Huashang grew increasingly uneasy, inwardly reviewing whether she had said anything wrong just now. After studying her for a long moment, the man spoke slowly: “Vicious, arrogant, and yet deeply insecure — you do know him well.”
Ming Huashang froze for a moment, then immediately understood — he thought she was the culprit’s accomplice!
Cold sweat poured from her in an instant. Of course — apart from Ming Huazhang, what normal person would believe her mysterious and abstruse criminal-profile reasoning? They would only think that someone who could accurately describe the layout of a room without having ever met the culprit must be an insider.
Ming Huashang felt deeply wronged, and throwing aside Ming Huazhang’s warnings, hastily disclosed the whole affair from start to finish: “My lord, please investigate clearly — I am nothing more than a young woman who cannot even read books properly. How would I dare involve myself in such matters? My guesses about him came from the traces he left behind.”
Ming Huashang condensed and simplified what she had said to Ming Huazhang that night and repeated it for the man across from her.
The purple clay teapot had been whistling for far too long; water was spilling out of both the spout and the lid. Yet the man seemed to have forgotten his beloved Yangxian tea entirely, paying it no mind and allowing it to go to waste. Ming Huashang kept stealing glances at the teapot as she spoke, and quietly edged her chair back.
After a long while — the water having already doused the brazier — the man finally spoke: “Is what you say true?”
Ming Huashang resigned herself and said, “True.”
The man gave her an unreadable look and said, “Interesting — you are even more of a pleasant surprise than I had imagined.”
Ming Huashang sensed something was off about those words and asked, “Your meaning is…”
The man flicked back his sleeve, drew out a black iron token, and placed it on the table before her. Ming Huashang’s expression went completely blank: “This is…”
The man’s bearing turned serious; the easy, leisurely air he had carried before fell away entirely, and his eyes became clear and sharp: “This official is Han, Loyal-Martial General of the Xuan Xiaowei, charged with investigating the hundred officials and serving the Son of Heaven. You have some slothful tendencies, but you are not without potential. Are you willing to join the Xuan Xiaowei?”
Ming Huashang lowered her eyes and looked at the cold, fierce owl’s-head carving on the black iron token, then thought about herself, and felt as though she could no longer breathe.
She had not read many books, but she could recall that there was no such designation as the Xuan Xiaowei in the court — what did this mean? Were they asking her to be an informant and spy on the Duke of Zhenguo’s household?
This was not the first time Her Imperial Majesty had done such a thing. When she had first seized the throne, she had nearly bathed the court in blood, vigorously promoting a culture of informants and denunciations among the censors. She had set up a bronze letter box outside the palace gate, encouraging commoners to report on officials and officials to report on each other.
Later, persuaded by her ministers’ counsel, Her Imperial Majesty had abolished the use of those censors, and the bronze letter box for secret denunciations had gradually fallen into disuse.
Until today, Ming Huashang had always assumed that the Empress’s reign of terror was over. She had not expected that the group of censors who monitored all officials and stopped at nothing had merely moved from the open to the shadows, adopting a new name — the Xuan Xiaowei.
However one looked at it, this was a secret intelligence agency — an existence that could not be brought into the light. Ming Huashang was unwilling to get entangled in such trouble, and declined politely: “General Han, I… my mind is poor, my reactions slow, my body is weak — walking more than a few extra steps could be the end of me. If I join your esteemed organization, I fear I would only drag down its reputation.”
Han Jie appeared completely unconcerned and said, “What difficulty is that? All new recruits start this way — a bit of training and it will be fine.”
Ming Huashang was about to make another excuse, but Han Jie, seeing through her intentions, raised a hand to cut off her words. “I know what you want to say — but hear me out first, then decide. Do you know of the Golden Bull Guards?”
Ming Huashang slowly nodded. “I know of them.”
The emperor’s personal troops — the Empress’s most trusted. Once admitted, one could regularly appear before the Empress, and it was practically a shortcut to promotion; sons of noble and meritorious families fought tooth and nail to get in.
Han Jie said, “In reality, Her Imperial Majesty has two personal guard forces: the Golden Bull Guards operate openly, while the Xuan Xiaowei operates in the shadows, handling matters the Golden Bull Guards are not suited to carry out. So long as you perform well and win Her Imperial Majesty’s favor, your father and brothers, your entire family, will all prosper because of you.”
Ming Huashang had remained unmoved until she heard that final sentence, where she suddenly stopped.
She was a cuckoo who had by chance fallen into a magpie’s nest — she had taken the wealth, status, and beloved family that rightfully belonged to the true daughter of the household. Though this had not been Ming Huashang’s wish, the fact remained that she owed a debt of gratitude to the Duke of Zhenguo’s household. She was an ordinary person with no money and no particular talent; talking about repaying the Ming family was laughable. But if she joined the Empress’s private forces and did what she could for the Duke of Zhenguo and Ming Huazhang — even if they never knew, even if they were still going to drive her away in a year — she could at least be at peace with herself.
Ming Huashang was already wavering, but still could not make her final decision — and then she heard Han Jie say: “Her Imperial Majesty holds the Xuan Xiaowei in very high esteem; the benefits are even better than those of the Golden Bull Guards. Joining the Xuan Xiaowei comes not only with the same salary grain, allotted land, and seasonal clothing as court officials — there are separate rewards for meritorious service, and even upon retirement, you will continue to receive a stipend for life, until old age and death. Of course, this is not the most important thing. Most importantly, it can also bring benefit to one’s family and one’s husband’s family…”
The last trace of Ming Huashang’s hesitation was extinguished. This was the life she had dreamed of: a secure official post, a regular stipend, a guarantee until old age — wasn’t that far better than finding a husband?
Han Jie had assumed that for a child of a noble family, money was of no consequence whatsoever, so he had placed the emphasis on the benefit to her natal family and her future husband’s family. He had not anticipated that Ming Huashang would slap her palm flat on the table and declare with absolute certainty, “No problem — I’ll take it!”