Ming Huashang stood behind the wooden door for a long while. Not until the night wind made her shiver did she rub her hands and walk toward the main hall.

She had a strange feeling that Ming Huazhang had been anticipating the moment when the paper screen between them would be broken through — and indeed, for an instant he had done exactly that. Later, reason had stopped him. Yet in Ming Huazhang’s mind they ought to be blood siblings. If it were discovered by their elders that a brother and sister were on overly intimate terms, the only outcome would be for one to marry off quickly and the other to be sent far away — what benefit could that possibly bring?

What was he anticipating? Could it be that he had long known Ming Huashang was not genuine — that she was not his real younger sister?

This realization struck her with a dizziness, her steps unsteady. Even after Ming Huashang had lain down on the bed, her mind was still in a daze.

If Ming Huazhang knew, then did Duke Zhenguo know as well? Ming Huashang thought of the scene from the prophetic dream — in which her father’s attitude had drastically shifted on nothing more than Su Yuji’s one-sided account, and he had reprimanded her in a harsh, cutting voice and ordered her driven out of the manor — and felt a sudden chill run through her.

Who was she, really? What was the relationship between her, Su Yuji, and Ming Huazhang?

With this weighing on her mind, Ming Huashang’s thoughts wandered in every direction for half the night, and it was not until the second half of the night that she fell into a vague, fitful sleep. The next morning, when Zhao Cai came in to attend to her, she found her lady yawning repeatedly, listless and without energy, and said with exasperation: “My Lady, why are you always in a state of not having slept enough? The Young Master’s prospects are uncertain, and families that had their minds set on making an alliance with the Duke’s manor through marriage are now starting to have second thoughts. These past two days, the Second and Third Branches have been hovering around the Old Madam, trying to snatch up a good marriage connection. You are the legitimate daughter of the Duke’s manor — how can you let them stir up trouble? My Lady, hurry and change your clothes and go to the Old Madam’s chambers. Do not let them get there first.”

Ming Huashang heard this, nodded solemnly, and said: “You are right. Zhao Cai, bring out that white in the Hu-style.”

Zhao Cai reflexively acknowledged, then froze: “My Lady, you are going to pay your respects to the Old Madam — why would you wear Hu-style clothing?”

“Because I am going out.” Ming Huashang said. “Ruyi, tell the gatehouse to prepare the carriage. I am going to Qingshan Temple — no, Pude Temple.”

The maids all got a fright upon hearing the name, and crowded around her: “My Lady, you must not — someone was just killed at Pude Temple. Word is all about that the murderous villain is lurking near Pude Temple, seeking his next prey. You absolutely cannot go!”

Ming Huashang dismissed this: “I am not going to burn incense. I am going to find Second Elder Brother. He came home so late last night — I am going to Pude Temple today to wait for him and remind him to come home early.”

This was an excuse Ming Huashang had prepared in advance. Her elder brother was the Deputy Prefect of the Capital — everyone knew this case was a thorny one. It was perfectly reasonable that she, as a clingy younger sister, would go to look for her elder brother out of worry. The killer had chosen Pude Temple three times for his crimes — she wanted to see for herself: what was so unusual about this temple?

After saying all this, however, Ming Huashang frowned, and instinctively sensed something was off: “How do you all know that the killer is lurking near Pude Temple, hunting for his next target?”

Based on the case records, Ming Huashang had only vaguely sensed that the killer did not murder for wealth or for revenge, but to satisfy some desire in his own mind — and therefore, once he started, he was usually unable to stop. But the Capital Prefecture did not even know where the killer lived — how had the common people come to know the killer would be searching for prey near Pude Temple?

Zhao Cai and the others thought nothing of it and replied casually: “That is what everyone outside is saying — it has spread all over Chang’an by now.”

Prince Wei’s manor.

Prince Wei had just risen when he received the best news he had heard in days. Without pausing to consider that he was still wearing only his inner single garment, his eyes brightened as he asked: “Did Canyue truly say this?”

“In reply to His Royal Highness Prince Wei, the secret dispatch from Canyue came just last night. This mission has been assigned to the Twin Jade Bi — there is absolutely no mistake.”

“Excellent!” Prince Wei said the word three times, his excitement evident: “The fish has taken the bait. Now we need only draw in the net. You must keep a close watch on Pude Temple — I am determined to ensure there is no return for them!”

His subordinate bowed his fists in acknowledgment. The gloom that had oppressed Prince Wei for many days was swept away; he felt a rare clarity and exhilaration.

For some time now, Imperial Aunt had been ceaselessly engineering alliances between the Wu and Li families. Not only had she arranged marriages for his children, she had also summoned members of both families together — the Li family in one row, the Wu family in another — to kneel facing one another, and in the Empress Regnant’s presence take oaths to henceforth regard one another as family, to live in harmony, and to let go of all past grievances; that any who violated this oath would be destroyed by heaven and earth. The Empress Regnant had even had the oath engraved on an iron-and-cinnabar charter and placed on high display in the Grand Luminous Palace as proof of the pledge.

Everything the Empress Regnant said and did seemed to confirm that she truly intended to pass the throne to the Crown Prince. Prince Wei was not willing to accept this. Marriage alliances — what of them? An oath enshrined in a charter — what of it? Once the Li family held power, reneging on an oath would be no more than a word. No matter how many safeguards were put in place, how could anything compare to one’s own family ascending the throne?

Prince Wei was unwilling to submit, but did not dare openly oppose Imperial Aunt. He needed to catch the Li family in some grave act of misconduct — proof that the Li family had harbored treasonous ambitions all along — in order to shake Imperial Aunt’s resolve to pass the throne to the Li family.

The surviving descendants of Crown Prince Zhanghuai were the best point of attack.

If Imperial Aunt were to learn that Li Xian’s child had been living under her very eyes all these years — that there were even subjects who had gone to great lengths to conceal this on Li Xian’s behalf — what would she think? Would she believe that Prince Xiang and Princess Taiping knew nothing about it?

Whether she believed it or not was in truth beside the point, because no one in power could tolerate such a thing. In those days when Gaozong was still alive, his head ailment had prevented him from attending to government affairs, and he had no choice but to divide power between Empress Wu and the Crown Prince. But the eldest imperial prince, Li Hong, had been frail, and had died before Gaozong himself; in his grief, Gaozong had established the second prince, Li Xian, as Crown Prince.

Li Xian was handsome in appearance and dignified in bearing — from a young age he had been known for his talent and virtue. After becoming Crown Prince he had kept himself informed of government affairs, treated scholars with courtesy and esteem, shown care for the common people, and examined criminal sentences with careful deliberation, overturning many accumulated wrongful convictions. He was deeply respected by his officials, and even Gaozong had been so pleased as to issue an imperial decree publicly praising Li Xian as “upright in his goodness and righteousness — the hope of the state, deeply in accordance with what I hold in my heart.”

Most importantly, Li Xian was also in good health. His temperament had inherited his father’s benevolence and kindness, while his constitution carried the Wu bloodline’s strength and longevity. Accomplished in both civil and military arts — horsemanship, archery, literature, music — all were mastered with skill. He was, without exaggeration, universally adored: young or old, male or female, everyone spoke of the Crown Prince with affection.

To have such a person sharing power with Empress Wu was naturally a great source of worry for her. It could even be foreseen that once Li Xian ascended the throne, Empress Wu would have no further place in the political arena. Empress Wu naturally could not allow this. In the final years of the Yonghui era, she had exhausted all her energies and marshaled every resource she possessed to charge Li Xian with treason.

To prove his innocence, Li Xian had taken his own life in the Eastern Palace — and in doing so truly became the “moon and the mole on the heart” of every official at court. Even after so many years, people still grieved and indignantly lamented on his behalf.

After Li Xian’s death, Gaozong posthumously honored him as Crown Prince Zhanghuai. Gaozong then established the third imperial son, Li Xian’s younger brother Li Xian — styled differently — as Crown Prince, and before long Gaozong passed away. What followed, everyone knew: Li Xian the younger had two outstanding older brothers above him and had never once considered competing for the throne, having grown up as a carefree idle prince. He lacked any political capability whatsoever. After ascending the throne, before he could even begin to make his mark, he was deposed by Empress Wu within a single month, demoted to Prince Luling, imprisoned for over ten years, and only this year had been summoned back to the capital and reinstated as Crown Prince for the second time.

Li Xian the younger had experienced great upheavals in life, but those upheavals had done nothing to elevate his political acumen. He remained the timid, weak, and feckless idle prince he had always been — entirely unsuited to be Crown Prince. The old subjects of the Li Tang dynasty, and even the common people, had imagined more than once: if only Crown Prince Zhanghuai were still alive, what need would there be for Li Xian the younger or Li Dan? The situation itself would never have come to this pass.

Yet no matter how many times one imagined it, Li Xian was dead.

Prince Wei had once dismissed Li Xian without a second thought — a short-lived wretch who had died long ago; no matter how high his posthumous reputation, what could he contend with? But things were different now. This was especially true since Prince Wei had come to know that Li Xian quite possibly had a surviving child.

If it were a daughter that would be one thing. But if it were a son — that would be like a thunderclap crashing into a vat of boiling oil. Not only would the Empress Regnant’s own throne be challenged, but the order of succession between the Crown Prince and Prince Xiang could be brought into contention as well.

Prince Wei was consumed by this matter. This child, whether son or daughter, was a useful blade. If a daughter, she could be used to drive a wedge between the Empress Regnant and the Crown Prince and Prince Xiang. If a son, she could be used to attack the Crown Prince’s position.

Crown Prince Zhanghuai had been the designated successor praised by Gaozong himself; by right, it was his lineage that should be the principal line. With Crown Prince Zhanghuai’s son still living, should the throne pass to a nephew or to an uncle?

Prince Wei shook off the gloom of recent days, his spirits soaring high, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. The Twin Jade Bi had entered his trap. This person who had ruined his plans on several occasions would now be sent to their death thanks to this very case. The bloodline of Crown Prince Zhanghuai had been narrowed down to a range — once the true one was identified from among the three candidates, all power and initiative would fall into Prince Wei’s hands.

Prince Wei exhorted his subordinates carefully: “Keep a close watch on Pude Temple. If anyone suspicious approaches — man, woman, young, or old — arrest them all without exception. Better to kill a thousand by mistake than to let one go.”

His subordinates bowed their fists: “Your command.”

“And what of the Su family and the Ming family — how have your men been watching them?”

His subordinates looked troubled: “In reply to His Royal Highness, the young woman of the Su family goes to the markets and busy streets every day to buy things — she frequently goes to crowded places, and surveillance is very difficult. The Ming family’s pair of twin brother and sister are much easier to watch, but the younger sister does nothing but eat, drink, and play all day — other than buying food and buying drink, she has never been seen doing anything of substance. The elder brother has only just taken up the post of Deputy Prefect of the Capital and spends every day running around in the wilds outside the city, staying out there a whole day at a time — our men on surveillance are suffering greatly, and no leads have been found.”

Prince Wei narrowed his eyes and said slowly: “I nearly forgot — Ming Huazhang is the Deputy Prefect of the Capital, and the serial murder case is in his charge. Station more men at Pude Temple: we can watch Ming Huazhang at the same time as we wait for the Twin Jade Bi to walk into the net — two birds with one stone.”

His subordinates bowed their heads and saluted heavily: “Yes.”

·

The sun had only just climbed to the midpoint of the sky; the air had at last acquired some warmth. Yet the constables had already been waiting here for a full hour. They were suffering and complaining under their breath — ever since the new Deputy Prefect had arrived, they had not had a peaceful day. The previous days had been spent following the Deputy Prefect running all over the place; today was even worse: they had been dragged out of bed at dawn and brought outside the city, all for the sake of reconstructing a death scene from four years ago.

The person had been dead for four years — what use was there in laying all this out? The constables had already been disgruntled at being called out first thing in the morning, and after being left to freeze for an entire hour, their complaints were mounting steadily. They were not at all willing to put in any effort.

These officials might appear lowly in rank, but they had been at the Capital Prefecture for many years, with all manner of connections woven densely together — they had far more influence than Ming Huazhang, this newly arrived Deputy Prefect. Unable to direct these seasoned veterans, Ming Huazhang simply stopped expecting anything from them and took it upon himself personally, leading men to reconstruct the scene from four years ago, when the bodies of Huang Caiwei and her maid had been found.

He was in the thick of it, thoroughly occupied, when suddenly he heard a commotion outside. Ming Huazhang briefly pulled himself from the case and frowned slightly: “This is an official investigation — unauthorized persons are forbidden to enter. Did I not say this entire area was to be sealed off? Why is there still someone approaching?”

A constable ran over to inquire, then came hurrying back: “Deputy Prefect, they say your younger sister has arrived.”

The tips of Ming Huazhang’s brows moved; his gaze shimmered: “My younger sister?”