Suddenly, she remembered that four years ago, during a similar season, she was barefoot by the lotus pond picking water lilies when she heard her father calling. As she turned around, in the golden-purple colors of the sunset behind her father, she saw Yu Xuan quietly watching him.

That moment when he smiled and gazed at her changed her entire life.

She suddenly felt weak and allowed herself to sit by the water, silently staring at the surface, lost in thought.

At that time, her father brought Yu Xuan home and told her that he was an orphan who had lost both parents and was living in an abandoned temple. Her father’s old school friend, who ran a teaching hall, discovered a beggar who always listened to lessons outside the window. He asked a few questions, and Yu Xuan answered flawlessly, earning admiration. When asked how he learned to read, Yu Xuan said he had found some paper scraps that people said were the Thousand Character Classic. Since the teacher at the school happened to be teaching it, he memorized the characters on the paper by following along with the teacher’s recitations. After learning the Thousand Character Classic, he gathered discarded old books and, using the characters he recognized, gradually learned the Four Books and Five Classics. Upon hearing this, the teacher was amazed by his talent and mentioned it to Mr. Huang, who, upon meeting Yu Xuan, was immediately moved to nurture such talent and brought him home.

Indeed, Yu Xuan – how could anyone not feel compassion for such a youth fallen into the dust?

Huang Zixia sat on the steps, burying her face in her knees, silently watching the lotus leaves turning in the night wind before her.

The evening breeze grew cool as night fell. Where the wind passed, lotus leaves flipped one after another like waves.

Her heart, too, was tossing like those waves, unable to find peace.

Yu Xuan said, “I’ll wait for you in Yizhou.”

However, the person who had promised to take her to Yizhou now must be angry.

Very angry.

She couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh.

Although she knew Li Shubai definitely wouldn’t abandon his promise to her because of this, she didn’t want to make him unhappy because of her.

Because…

She thought about what he had told her – he said that fish only have memories lasting seven finger snaps, whether you treat them well or poorly, after seven snaps, they forget everything you’ve done to them.

But she wasn’t a fish who forgot others after seven finger snaps.

She thought that she should have told Li Shubai then that she wasn’t a fish – even after seven months, seven years, or seventy years, she couldn’t forget those who had left indelible marks on her heart.

Thinking this, she brought her finger to her mouth and bit down hard.

“The Agashne most loves human blood. I heard the King of Kui also keeps such a fish. Yang Gongong can tell the King of Kui this secret,” that man – Wang Zongshi – had once told her in the Taiji Palace.

As her finger broke open, a drop of crimson blood immediately welled up and fell into the water at her feet.

The sky had already darkened, with deep purple at the horizon. In the last trace of dim light, she futilely attempted to lure the little fish back.

The blood dripped into the water, spreading and dispersing until it vanished.

She waited a while, and seeing no movement on the water’s surface, she squeezed her bitten wound again, forcing out two more drops of blood that fell onto the water’s surface.

The crimson color dissolved on the rippling surface, the tiny ripples fading to nothing.

“What are you doing?” A clear, cold voice came from behind.

She didn’t turn to look at Li Shubai, only lowered her head to watch the water’s surface, saying softly, “I wanted to see if the little fish was still nearby.”

“Even if it’s still under the water, do you think it would come out just because it smells your blood?” Li Shubai asked coldly.

She didn’t bother answering because, in the dim light, she saw the little fish emerge from behind a lotus root, cautiously swimming slowly toward her.

It had indeed been hiding nearby.

Huang Zixia gently lowered her hand into the water. The blood from her wound became a fine thread in the water, rippling once before vanishing.

And that little fish, as if caught by that invisible thread, swam toward her hand.

She slowly moved her hand upward, then just before breaking the surface, suddenly closed her fingers, catching the little fish in her palm once again.

She turned joyfully to him with the fish cupped in her hands, calling out, “Quick, bring something to put it in.”

In the last remnants of daylight, her smile was so dazzling it momentarily stunned Li Shubai.

He silently brought over the bronze jue vessel, letting her place the fish inside.

She held up her still-dripping hand and looked down at the little fish. In the green-hued ancient bronze vessel, it darted up and down at first, but after a while began to swim leisurely, growing accustomed to its strange new environment.

She dangled her finger above the water, teasing the fish, saying to it, “That was close, you almost got away.”

“How did you know it was attracted to the scent of blood?” Li Shubai asked in a low voice, gazing at her smiling profile.

Huang Zixia looked up and said seriously, “Wang Gongong told me – Wang Zongshi.”

Li Shubai frowned involuntarily and asked, “How do you know him?”

“I met him twice in the Taiji Palace. On the day Princess Tongchang died, my hands were stained with her blood, and Wang Gonggong pressed my hand into his fish tank, where the little fish immediately licked it clean…” As she spoke, she still couldn’t suppress that spine-chilling disgust, feeling goosebumps rise on her skin.

Li Shubai was silent for a long while, then took the bronze jue and quietly gazed at the little fish inside, saying, “I’ve kept this fish for ten years.”

Huang Zixia was slightly startled and asked, “Ten years?”

It was still so tiny after ten years, and remarkably, hadn’t died.

“Yes, ten years. On the day my royal father passed away, guess where I found it?” Li Shubai looked up at her, his eyes full of deep meaning. “In the blood, my father coughed up, it was, amazingly, still alive, writhing in the fresh blood. I was holding a bowl of cool water at the time, using a cotton cloth to moisten father’s lips – but unexpectedly, the young Prince Zhao grabbed the little fish from the blood and threw it into my bowl.”

As he spoke, his gaze grew distant, as if looking through ten years of time to see his younger self, newly orphaned.

“I set that bowl of water on the windowsill, and it wasn’t until after father passed away and the Emperor ascended the throne, when I was about to leave the Daming Palace, that I remembered the fish. I went to Father’s chambers to look at that windowsill and found it perfectly fine, still swimming back and forth in that bowl, oblivious and carefree. Everything that happened in the human world had nothing to do with it – even if heaven and earth collapsed, it only needed that shallow bowl of water to continue living as usual.”

Li Shubai tilted the bronze jue slightly – the verdigris made the water appear completely green, while the bright red fish in the water appeared extraordinarily vivid and eye-catching.

“I took it with me when I left the palace and went to my own prince’s mansion. Ten years – I went from King of Kui to King of Tong and back to King of Kui, from an ignorant youth to where I am now, yet never imagined that what would accompany me longest would be this little fish.” He gazed silently at the fish in the water – a creature that could forget everything after seven finger-snaps, living so easily and happily.

Knowing nothing, feeling nothing, and thus having no worries or cares.

Huang Zixia watched the little fish in the water with him and said softly, “I heard… the late Emperor accidentally took alchemical medicine and passed away shortly after.”

“Yes.” Li Shubai, who had always been cold and distant toward everything around him, finally let out a light sigh. He looked up at her, his eyes extremely deep and dark. “Why did Father cough up this fish when he died? This mystery has haunted me for ten years. Just like that impossible talisman, it made me rack my brains endlessly with no way to guess, leaving me restless day and night. And now… suddenly father’s final brush strokes have appeared – three inexplicable ink scrawls.”

Huang Zixia looked down at the wound on her finger and said softly, “Wang Zongshi also had an Agashne.”

“He lives in seclusion and rarely socializes, but he likes to keep fish, especially rare species. It’s not strange that he would have an Agashne.”

Li Shubai stood up, placed the bronze jue on the shelf, and said slowly, “When the late Emperor passed away, Wang Zongshi was by his side.”

Huang Zixia knew what he was thinking – the same as her thoughts – but she didn’t say it aloud. After all, some things shouldn’t be speculated about, even when alone.

Li Shubai looked at the sky outside and changed the subject, asking, “What do you plan to do at the Ministry of Justice tomorrow?”

She looked at him solemnly and said, “I’d like to ask Your Highness about something first.”

He didn’t inquire further, just turned his face slightly to look at her.

“If someone released on bail by the King of Kui’s mansion escapes, what trouble would that cause?”

Li Shubai looked at her serious and worried expression and smiled slightly.

“If I didn’t want her to escape, why would I have arranged for her release on bail?”

This casual remark made Huang Zixia’s eyes suddenly widen as she stared at him in shock and excitement.

And on his face, that rare smile was like the clear May sky revealed after the wind sweeps away layers of clouds. Though just for an instant, it left her dazed and enchanted, frozen in place.

“However, such a small matter could be avoided with just a little effort, why let yourself get into trouble?” he added.

Huang Zixia didn’t bother asking what method he meant, only asked, “Your Highness… you already know who the murderer is?”

“I’ve guessed, but some small details don’t quite match up. Let’s say I’ve solved half of it. What about you?”

Her lips curved upward in a bright smile: “Everything.”

Li Shubai looked at the smile on her face in amazement, momentarily stunned: “The three unsolved cases, the late Emperor’s final writing, how the false heavenly punishment was created, everyone’s motives… you understand it all?”

“Mm.” She nodded, confident and without doubt. “This case is already over.”