“You said the Princess Consort shouldn’t be… her.” Huang Zixia whispered in her ear, her voice extremely low but each word distinct and clear.

Jinnu’s expression instantly froze. She stared wide-eyed at Huang Zixia before her, and after a long while, finally lowered her eyes and said, “Please don’t tell anyone—it would be offensive if you did. I just… I just thought Princess Qile seemed more suited to be the Princess Consort, that’s all I meant.”

Before Huang Zixia could ask more, Jinnu hurriedly circled her and climbed into a nearby carriage, telling the driver, “We’ll miss curfew if we don’t leave now, hurry!”

Huang Zixia watched helplessly as her carriage departed, mentally planning how to create another opportunity to question her further.

The Zhou family’s carriage was waiting at the entrance, and Zhou Ziqin stood at the door asking her, “Chonggu, how are you getting back?”

Huang Zixia casually replied, “I’ll hire a carriage back to Prince Kui’s mansion.”

“I’ll take you—it’s on my way,” he gestured for her to get in.

Huang Zixia asked with amusement, “How is it on your way? Prince Kui’s mansion is north, your home is west.”

“Because I’m not going home right now,” he said, motioning her to board. The driver, not waiting for instructions, skillfully set off, heading north toward Qujiang Pool.

Chang’an’s night was deep, the moon rising as people settled in. Outside the walls of Qujiang Pool, several beggars were still warming themselves by fires among the scattered rocks of the riverbank, some sitting, some lying down, all skeletal thin.

The carriage stopped, and Zhou Ziqin jumped down, placing his packages of food on a stone table by the river. He unwrapped the roasted chicken and then returned to the carriage.

Following instructions, the driver headed toward Prince Kui’s mansion.

Huang Zixia lifted the carriage curtain slightly, looking back.

Attracted by the aroma, the beggars gathered around the stone table, eating excitedly, each one overjoyed.

A smile touched Huang Zixia’s lips as she said, “I wouldn’t have expected you to do something like this, besides studying corpses.”

“Ah, it’s just a small gesture,” he waved dismissively.

Along Chang’an’s neighborhood walls, lanterns hung illuminating the quiet streets at night. The carriage clattered through the long streets, occasional streaks of light filtering through the curtains into the interior. Zhou Ziqin’s carefree smile, appearing and disappearing in the intermittent light, seemed gentle and pure, with a kind of youthful innocence.

A faint melancholy rose unbidden in Huang Zixia’s heart. She thought that perhaps if she, who had encountered too many cruel methods and malicious intentions since childhood, had met someone like Zhou Ziqin earlier, her heart might have been softer than it was now.

It was nearly the second watch when they returned to Prince Kui’s mansion. Huang Zixia heated water for a bath, washed her clothes and hung them to dry, finally going to sleep after the third watch.

Unlike other eunuchs who shared rooms two or three together, she, fortunately, had her room on Li Shubai’s orders, so she didn’t need to worry about anything and could sleep soundly. But just as dawn was breaking, someone suddenly pounded on her door: “Yang Chonggu! Get up quickly!”

Huang Zixia’s mind was blank as she forced herself to sit up: “Who is it? What’s happening?”

“The Prince commands you to wait at the entrance of Daming Palace immediately.”

She rubbed her forehead, lamenting miserably: “Isn’t the Prince at the morning court session?”

“His Majesty is unwell today, so morning court was canceled. That’s why the Prince told you to go over. Hey, why are you asking what the Prince is doing? You’re just a minor eunuch—just go!”

“Yes, yes, yes…”

By the time she rushed to Daming Palace, the sun was already high. Li Shubai was at the palace gate speaking with a Uighur man, both chatting animatedly in unintelligible Uighur language.

Huang Zixia stood to the side as the Uighur man looked at her, saying something in his gibberish. Li Shubai smiled, seemed to say goodbye, and then gestured for Huang Zixia to follow him into the carriage.

Sitting inside, Huang Zixia watched him resting with closed eyes, a faint smile playing at his lips, and couldn’t help asking, “What were you talking about just now?”

Li Shubai opened his eyes to look at her, saying, “You don’t want to know.”

Huang Zixia felt this statement, paired with his half-smiling expression, was practically begging “Please ask me, please pursue this question.” To satisfy her employer’s wishes, she had to ask again, “What did you say?”

“He said this little eunuch isn’t bad, full of vigor, hasn’t lost his masculine essence.”

“Indeed, I shouldn’t have asked…” Huang Zixia turned wordlessly to look outside. “Where are we going?”

“Wasn’t it said the case had no leads? I’ve found you a thread to follow.”

Huang Zixia’s eyes brightened: “Prince E’s mansion?”

Li Shubai nodded slightly, saying, “It might not be convenient for you alone, so I’ll take you.”

“Yes, I heard Prince E took in Chen Nianniang. I think all our current clues can only be traced back to the deceased Feng Yiniang. Perhaps Chen Nianniang might have some information.”

Just as she was speaking, the carriage suddenly halted.

Outside, a guard lightly knocked on the carriage wall: “Your Highness, Princess Qile has stopped the carriage, it seems…”

Li Shubai frowned slightly, lifting the curtain to look outside. He saw Princess Qile’s carriage stopped ahead, and she had already jumped down, walking quickly toward him.

Huang Zixia got out of the carriage with Li Shubai, anticipating the scene with interest.

Princess Qile, who habitually lifted her chin when looking at people, was filled with tears upon seeing Li Shubai and called out softly: “Greetings, Prince Kui…”

Princess Qile was the daughter of the late Prince Yi, the former imperial uncle, making her and Li Shubai cousins, so Li Shubai returned her greeting, saying, “No need for such formality, Princess.”

“Your Highness, I heard… the recent rumors in the capital about your Princess Consort originated from me. I hope I haven’t caused you additional troubles—I would feel truly guilty if I had…” Princess Qile’s large almond-shaped eyes sparkled with tears as she gazed unblinkingly at Li Shubai. Her once full cheeks had grown much thinner, clearly showing she hadn’t been well since Li Shubai had chosen his consort.

Li Shubai only looked at her gently, his voice calm and unwavering: “Princess need not worry. Though Wang Ruo’s disappearance from the palace is strange, there may still be a chance to find her. Then the Princess can be cleared of any current grievances.”

“But… but I heard that this matter is…” She forcibly swallowed the words “ghost haunting” and looked up at Li Shubai pitifully, saying softly, “I heard people in the capital say this incident is mysteriously inexplicable. Wang Ruo might… might no longer be in this world.”

Huang Zixia quietly observed this woman who desperately tried to appear pitiful yet couldn’t hide her sense of schadenfreude, thinking to herself: after all, she’s heaven’s favored daughter, never understanding how to be considerate of others or read situations. With a heart so transparent that anyone could see through to her inner workings—was this her detestable quality, or her endearing one?

Li Shubai seemed oblivious, responding only with gentle words, his expression like ink-wash painted distant mountains and nearby waters, emanating only peace and gentleness. As he consoled Princess Qile, she took the opportunity to elaborate, her eyes filling with even more tears of grievance, teardrops now rolling down steadily.

Huang Zixia noticed a hint of resignation appears in Li Shubai’s expression, but he still raised his hand to wipe away her tears.

Huang Zixia dutifully reminded from behind: “Your Highness, Jingyu has already gone ahead to announce our arrival at Prince E’s mansion. Prince E is probably waiting by now, perhaps…”

Li Shubai nodded slightly at this and said to Princess Qile, “I must go now. Please set your mind at ease, Princess—I will handle everything.”

Princess Qile stood in the street watching him board his carriage, remaining there until long after his carriage had gone, finally returning to her carriage at her maids’ urging.

Huang Zixia watched through the carriage curtain gap as the two carriages went their separate ways, and couldn’t help looking at Li Shubai.

Li Shubai asked quietly, “You think I shouldn’t give her too much hope, that I should be more ruthless and make her give up?”

Huang Zixia didn’t speak, but her expression was very clear.

“Before, when the late emperor passed away, she was the only one who held my hand and comforted me,” he leaned back against the brocade cushions, his expression as distant and peaceful as the ink-wash painting from before. “She’s not a bad woman, just not very clever.”

“So you’ve ruined a good woman’s reputation in the capital.”

He glanced at her, remaining silent for the journey. The small redfish in the crystal vase hanging on the carriage wall seemed accustomed to the carriage’s jolting, resting quietly at the bottom, undisturbed by the ripples.

After a long while, she finally heard Li Shubai’s voice asking, “Did you know she was born with an ailment and won’t live past twenty?”

Huang Zixia looked at him in shock, but he only watched the little red fish, saying, “If Ma Yuanzhi hadn’t supported Emperor Xuanzong, the Imperial Grand Uncle, Prince Yi should have been the ruler of the realm. So as former heirs to the throne, this lineage was destined to end. Now Prince Yi is dead, Qile’s brothers are dead, leaving her alone—otherwise, why do you think she dared to hold my hand when my father passed away?”

Huang Zixia fell silent, thinking of this ill-tempered young woman who had become the capital’s laughingstock, thinking of her apple-blossom cheeks and almond eyes. After a long while, she asked softly, “Does Princess Qile know?”

“I think she knows her condition isn’t good, but doesn’t know it will come so soon.” Li Shubai slowly closed his eyes and said, “Let her continue her arrogant and willful fantasies for a few more days. Even if she wants to bother me in the future, she won’t have the chance.”