Ni Su’s heart stirred as she met his gaze.

Just as she was about to speak, she heard the rumbling sound of a carriage approaching. Almost simultaneously with Xu Hexue, she turned her head—it was Jiang Xianming’s carriage returning.

Jiang Xianming lifted the curtain and looked toward the young man and woman. “Qian Weiyin escaped!”

“What?”

Ni Su was stunned. She drew closer and saw through the veiled hat that inside the carriage was indeed only Jiang Xianming alone.

“What happened?”

Xu Hexue fixed his gaze on him.

“He knew you possessed martial skills, so he pretended to agree to come with me. In reality, he was waiting until I separated from you so he could seize the opportunity to escape!” Jiang Xianming’s expression was grave. “Young sir, he told me that after abandoning his post and fleeing, he returned to Daizhou and hid right under those people’s noses. He originally wanted to persuade Ren Jun, a colleague he was on good terms with, to come to the capital with him, but discovered someone had just investigated that very colleague.”

Someone else was investigating this matter?

Xu Hexue froze, then immediately asked: “Who?”

“According to him, it’s a young man surnamed Dong, a student at the Imperial Academy. He knows nothing more. Ren Jun suddenly died at his post several months ago, and that young man surnamed Dong likely has Ren Jun’s confession and evidence on him.”

Jiang Xianming recalled what Qian Weiyin had said to him in the carriage earlier: “A mere Academy student dares wade into Daizhou’s muddy waters—Jingnan, who do you think is directing him? I might as well tell you, on the road here I was following him, but compared to the person above him, I trusted you more, so when I was near Yun Jing I found an opportunity to avoid him and entered the capital ahead of him to find you. But Jingnan, I see you don’t dare.”

“I guess he might turn back to find that student surnamed Dong.” Jiang Xianming came back to himself and spoke again to Xu Hexue.

“Do you have the Imperial Academy registry?” Xu Hexue asked.

“I know Vice Director Tian. Get in—we’ll go to his place right now!” Jiang Xianming beckoned to them.

There were several hundred students at the Imperial Academy, of which twenty-one were surnamed Dong. Jiang Xianming brought Xu Hexue and Ni Su to Vice Director Tian’s home to examine the registry, but they hadn’t yet identified which specific person.

Qian Weiyin had given too few clues.

Vice Director Tian yawned, completely bewildered as he accompanied Jiang Xianming and the young man and woman through the night. Seeing Jiang Xianming grinding ink at the desk, he asked: “Jingnan, what are you writing now?”

“A memorial.”

Jiang Xianming held his brush and looked at him. “Old Tian, I’m borrowing your ink and paper and occupying your space. Afterward, I’ll repay you.”

“Forget it, no need to repay anything. Who doesn’t know you’ve always lived frugally, yet you’re extremely willing to spend on expensive paper, brushes, inkstones and ink. Mine can’t compare to yours.” Vice Director Tian waved his hand. “But what memorial is Censor Jiang submitting?”

Jiang Xianming dipped his brush in ink and looked at the snow-white paper. After a long while he said: “I’m going to overturn an old case.”

The student surnamed Dong couldn’t be identified, and whether Qian Weiyin had actually gone to find this person was uncertain. Jiang Xianming also wasn’t sure whether that student had safely brought the so-called evidence back to Yun Jing. If he had brought it back safely, after the person above him learned the truth about the Daizhou provisions case, would he still dare raise this matter?

Because of Du Cong’s disappearance, his crimes had not yet been determined. The officials involved in this provisions case—over these dozen years, they had either been promoted or died.

Their promotions were exchanged for the people’s blood and sweat. Jiang Xianming thought it over again and again, his mind filled with Qian Weiyin’s words before escaping: “You don’t dare.”

If the student surnamed Dong didn’t dare, if the person above him didn’t dare, if he, Jiang Xianming, also didn’t dare—should they then allow those parasites to continue gnawing at the Great Qi’s pillars?

Hearing Jiang Xianming’s words, Ni Su couldn’t help turning around to see Jiang Xianming raise his hand and begin writing.

The person beside her had stopped turning pages long ago. She couldn’t see what expression lay beneath the veiled hat, but her gaze dropped to rest on a line of ink characters at the edge of his fingers.

Dong Yao.

Ni Su glanced at it—his father was Dong Chengda, a county magistrate.

“Vice Director Tian, do you have any impression of this Dong Yao?” Xu Hexue suddenly spoke.

Hearing the voice, Vice Director Tian turned around. With several hundred students at the Imperial Academy, how could he remember each one clearly? But this Dong Yao, thinking carefully: “Ah, his scholarship is quite good, especially his mathematics. Two years ago he should have received an appointment, but it was discovered that his birth father was a military official who had committed crimes. Dong Chengda is actually his uncle. Before changing his surname to Dong, his original surname was Lu. Because of this, his official appointment was shelved until this year, when Minister Zhang permitted him to enter the Bureau of Policy Deliberation as an attendant official.”

Dong Yao, originally surnamed Lu.

Without Vice Director Tian stating it explicitly, Xu Hexue’s mind had already recalled his father’s name—Lu Heng.

Captain of the Princess Wenduan’s household.

Xu Hexue had seen Lu Heng more than once and knew he had a brother-in-law obsessed with mathematics. If not for seeing the name “Dong Chengda” immediately following Dong Yao’s name, Xu Hexue wouldn’t have recalled Lu Heng’s brother-in-law.

And the three characters “Minister Zhang” that Vice Director Tian immediately followed with caused Xu Hexue to suddenly support himself against the table corner and stand up. “Censor Jiang, Qian Weiyin and Dong Yao are both scholars without the strength to truss a chicken. Yet on their journey here, they encountered no assassination attempts and remained so peaceful throughout?”

Jiang Xianming froze, then immediately reflected carefully on every sentence Qian Weiyin had said. He grasped it at once. “Young sir, could Ren Jun’s matter be a deception?”

Ren Jun had suddenly died at his post, yet Dong Yao remained unharmed. Even if these two were extremely cautious and knew how to hide, their journey couldn’t possibly have been so calm.

Unless… someone deliberately let Dong Yao pass.

But what was the purpose of letting Dong Yao pass? Could it be to use this to draw out the person behind Dong Yao and catch them all in one net?

Jiang Xianming felt his liver and gallbladder turn to ice.

Ni Su saw Xu Ziling’s hand supporting the desk tremble, then he stumbled out holding the lamp. She hurried to follow. Dawn was breaking, cold wind brushing her face.

The copper bell at the eaves corner swayed lightly, making crisp sounds.

But the person who had left here one step ahead of her had already vanished without a trace.

Ni Su looked down to discover that the edges of her sleeves had no pale mist clinging to them. Her heart filled with panic. Disregarding Jiang Xianming’s calls behind her, she lifted her skirt and ran toward the main gate.

At the break of dawn, Hanlin Academician He Tong came as usual to escort his teacher into the palace. Led into the courtyard by Old Neizhi, he saw Zhang Jing wearing a neat purple official robe. He immediately stepped forward to help his teacher don the long-winged cap.

“What’s wrong with Old Neizhi?”

He Tong turned to see Liu Jiarong, who had followed Zhang Jing for many years, with reddened eyes, and felt somewhat puzzled.

“He stayed up all night with me yesterday. Look at him—his eyes are red from staying up.”

Zhang Jing glanced at Old Neizhi, his tone flat.

Old Neizhi’s throat bobbed as he lowered his head. “Yes, when one is old, one is no longer useful.”

He Tong didn’t think much of it. Just as he was about to ask his teacher to go ahead, he saw what seemed to be a figure kneeling in the dim area at the end of the corridor. Startled, he said: “Teacher, he…”

“Don’t kneel. Get up.” Zhang Jing didn’t avoid it, speaking to that person.

He Tong saw that person stand up and emerge from the shadows—a middle-aged man, but one he didn’t recognize.

“This is Qian Weiyin. Today when entering the palace, I must bring him along.”

Zhang Jing adjusted his sleeves as he spoke.

“But Minister Zhang, Dong Yao still doesn’t know where…”

Qian Weiyin’s face showed worry.

Hearing this, Zhang Jing looked at him. “Whether he comes or not actually doesn’t matter. That you came—this is my unexpected joy.”

“Teacher, why are you bringing him into the palace?”

He Tong couldn’t understand at all what they were discussing.

Zhang Jing said nothing. He only examined this student beside him—the vermillion red official robe, the properly worn long-winged cap. “I have some poetry manuscripts. Come tomorrow and help me organize them.”

“This student has noted it.”

He Tong nodded.

On the road from the Zhang residence to the imperial palace, He Tong had grown accustomed to his teacher’s taciturnity, but he kept glancing at Qian Weiyin sitting across from him.

He recognized the clothes this man wore—they were clearly his teacher’s.

He couldn’t fathom why his teacher wanted to bring this man into the palace. For some reason, He Tong’s heart was quite unsettled, especially when the carriage stopped at the palace gate and he saw Qian Weiyin descend, lift his robe hem and immediately kneel, shouting loudly: “This guilty subject Qian Weiyin submits his confession and requests an audience with His Majesty!”

He must never have exerted himself so hoarsely before—the veins in his neck bulged.

“Teacher, this is…”

He Tong turned around, but saw Zhang Jing’s expression was calm, only saying: “No need to concern yourself. You and I shall enter the palace.”

He Tong never disobeyed his teacher. He helped Zhang Jing down and walked past Qian Weiyin. Just as they were about to enter the palace, he heard a commotion behind him. Looking back, he saw Qian Weiyin had already been restrained by several Imperial Guards and was being escorted toward the palace gate.

“Teacher, aren’t you going to the Bureau of Policy Deliberation?”

There was no morning court today. When Zhang Jing entered the palace, he should have gone to the Bureau of Policy Deliberation, yet He Tong saw he didn’t plan to go in that direction.

Zhang Jing shook his head. “I must first go see Prince Jia. You needn’t follow. Go to the Bureau of Policy Deliberation first. I’ll return shortly.”

He Tong stopped. The unease in his heart grew ever stronger, yet he was also very confused, not knowing why he felt so panicked. Seeing Zhang Jing leaning on his cane, walking forward with shuffling steps, he couldn’t help calling out: “Teacher…”

Zhang Jing stopped and turned to look at him.

Within the imperial palace, the dawn light seemed to brighten a bit more. Morning mist was thin, wreathing around these green tiles and vermillion walls. Zhang Jing rested both hands on his cane. “He Tong, the poetry manuscripts I asked you to organize—you must do them well, understand?”

“I understand.”

He Tong responded. “I’ve been waiting to do these things again for Teacher—I’ve waited fifteen years.”

This one sentence actually caused Zhang Jing’s eyes to grow hot. He nodded, and a smile appeared on his usually stern and severe face. “You’ve always been my good student, but I want to ask your heart—are you hating someone?”

He Tong froze, then lowered his head. “Teacher, if not for his committing the serious crime of treason and implicating you, you wouldn’t have suffered the hardship of exile, and Teacher’s wife and senior brother wouldn’t have…”

He choked up.

“I knew you hated him. I read that essay you wrote denouncing him. That turned out to be the only thing related to him that His Majesty allowed to circulate.”

Zhang Jing walked back before him. The extremely faint daylight fell on the green tile edges, making Zhang Jing squint slightly.

“Teacher… why are you mentioning him?”

The unease in He Tong’s heart grew even stronger.

“Alright, you may go.”

Zhang Jing’s words were indifferent. Morning wind filled his sleeves. He no longer looked at He Tong but turned and leaned on his cane, walking forward step by step.

In Chongming Hall, Prince Jia and his consort were packing their luggage. Emperor Zhengyuan was still angry. Yesterday when he heard Prince Jia again request to leave the palace and return to Tongzhou, he didn’t even see Prince Jia, only ordering Chief Eunuch Liang Shenfu of the Palace Attendants Bureau to relay his permission.

“Xizhen, there’s nothing here we need to take. Let’s just go back.” Prince Jia’s heart yearned for home as he paced back and forth in the hall.

“Your Highness may not, but this consort does.”

Princess Consort Jia, Li Xizhen, personally organized clothing and jewelry, her movements unhurried.

“Since spring has begun, it’s time to make you new clothes.” Prince Jia’s spirits today were probably the best they’d been since returning to the capital. He walked to Li Xizhen’s side, chattering: “Once we return, I’ll…”

Li Xizhen’s movements organizing clothes paused. She raised her head to look at him, about to part her lips when she heard a palace attendant outside the hall door say: “Your Highness, Minister Zhang requests an audience with Your Highness.”

The moment these three characters “Minister Zhang” emerged, shock appeared in Prince Jia’s eyes. Almost without thinking, he strode quickly to the hall door and personally pushed it open.

Morning light scattered forth. The old man outside had an aged face and graying hair. Though he leaned on a cane, his purple official robe was worn very properly, just as stern and proud as in Prince Jia’s memory.

Yet compared to over ten years ago, he was so much older.

Prince Jia’s eyes suddenly reddened, tears surging forth. His voice trembled: “Teacher…”