Why would the Empress call for her, for no apparent reason? Pu Zhu knew quite well.

Sure enough — after entering the palace, she was led to a rear hall of the Zichen Palace.

When she arrived, it seemed there was still someone with the Emperor. Pu Zhu waited in a small side hall, turning over in her mind how best to handle what was about to come, when suddenly, from deep within the inner hall, came a voice that seemed to be issuing a reprimand.

She could tell it was the Emperor’s voice, but the distance was too great — it had been a single sound only, which quickly faded. She couldn’t make out what was being said, or to whom.

Being in a place like this, caution was the only course — and then more caution still. Whoever had been reprimanded by the Emperor had nothing to do with her.

Pu Zhu treated it as though she had heard nothing, and continued to wait quietly.

But what surprised her was that shortly afterward, looking through the window of the side hall, she saw Crown Prince Li Chengyu come out. He held his head slightly up, and his expression appeared composed — yet his shoulders, tightly drawn, and the rapid pace of his stride, betrayed the state of his emotions.

From what Pu Zhu knew of him, his mood at this moment must in fact be extremely downcast. He said not a word, and with a few palace attendants following behind, he strode quickly along the palace road, his figure disappearing from sight in no time.

If she had guessed correctly, the one who had just been reprimanded before the Emperor would be him — though she had no idea over what matter.

Pu Zhu continued to wait. Very soon Shen Gao came, and indicated she should follow him.

Pu Zhu passed through a dim, shadowed corridor and was brought into the presence of Emperor Xiaochang. The Emperor sat alone within. Pu Zhu held her breath and stepped forward to pay her respects.

Not a trace of anger showed on the Emperor’s face now. He opened his mouth to ask her about the events of this trip.

Pu Zhu then gave her account from beginning to end — starting from the assassination attempt before their arrival, through to the moment of their final departure.

In between, she left out what could not be spoken of — the plans she knew about regarding the westward migration, and the divergence of opinion between Li Xuandu’s two uncles. Everything else, she told fully, including Li Xuandu’s assistance in helping Li Siye drive back the Dongdi cavalry.

This was something he had done — even if she wanted to conceal it, it could not be concealed. The Emperor could not possibly have lacked other spies in the Que Kingdom.

Besides, there was no need to conceal it.

The Emperor already suspected him. Even if he had stood by and done nothing, that could be interpreted as biding his time and hiding his true intentions — which would make him appear even more dangerously scheming.

Possessing a treasure becomes one’s crime — this was Li Xuandu’s fate. Pu Zhu understood it very clearly.

The Emperor pondered for a moment, then began asking questions — all targeting certain details in what she had just told. He was checking for inconsistencies.

Since it was the truth to begin with, with nothing added or omitted, she answered each question in turn.

The Emperor finally said: “You are certain that the Eastern Di’s new Khan dispatched a secret envoy to the Que King, and was expelled by the Que King?”

“Yes. The Que King stated this himself, and I heard it with my own ears.”

The Emperor said evenly: “How do you know this was not merely for show?”

Pu Zhu lowered her head: “Knowing a person’s face does not mean knowing their heart — I dare not guarantee the Que King was speaking sincerely. All I have said just now is only what I personally saw and heard during those days; there is not a single word of falsehood. With Your Majesty’s wisdom and insight, if Prince Qin and the Que people truly have made secret plans between them, Your Majesty will surely see through their treachery.”

The Emperor sat in thought, then suddenly said: “Li Siye has a daughter — I recall there was once talk of a marriage connection. How did things stand this time? Was it brought up?”

Pu Zhu’s heart gave a jolt, but she kept her face composed and reported truthfully: “I report to Your Majesty: Prince Qin’s cousin still carries old feelings for him and has apparently been waiting for him. On this visit, the matter was indeed raised again — but in the end, it came to nothing.”

“Why?”

“It seems he was worried that agreeing to the marriage might invite court officials’ criticism and cast doubt on his motives, so he steeled himself against his feelings and declined the match.”

The Emperor’s eyelid twitched slightly: “He knows that I am uneasy about him?”

Pu Zhu said: “Having spent nearly half a year with Prince Qin, I find him to be a person of keen perception.”

The Emperor gave a cold snort: “At least you are reasonably honest with me. Have I not always known this? He has been known for his intelligence since he was a child.”

Pu Zhu hurriedly said: “Before Your Majesty, your servant speaks everything she knows and dares not conceal even the smallest detail.”

The Emperor gave a sound of acknowledgment: “In that case, in your view — does he harbor any intent to rebel?”

Pu Zhu lowered her head: “Your servant does not dare to say.”

“I pardon you of any crime — speak the truth!”

The Emperor’s voice rang out just above her head.

Pu Zhu dared not forget her position with the Emperor, and she also could not set aside the selfish purpose she had always harbored.

Whether considering her own position, or for the sake of that private purpose, she ought to answer that he harbored the intent to rebel.

Though the likelihood of that was vanishingly small, speaking bluntly — what if the Emperor concluded he had no rebellious intent, and stopped pressing him? Then where would she be?

The words were on her lips, but then she remembered what Luo Bao had told her about the days when he was imprisoned in Wuyou Palace as a boy; she remembered that night he had returned after declining the marriage, standing in the doorway, so suppressed and in such pain he had looked like a ghost. The words would not come out.

“I humbly report to Your Majesty: in my view, up to this point, he has not yet harbored any intent to rebel.” She gritted her teeth and finally said it.

The Emperor’s voice was even: “And on what grounds do you see it that way?”

“I report to Your Majesty: if he truly intended rebellion, he could simply have privately promised the Que people a marriage alliance — giving them something like a solid assurance, to fully win their trust. In the event of upheaval later, it would be to his benefit in every way and harmful in none.”

“How do you know he did not privately make such a promise? Did he tell you even this? Have you and he grown so close?” The Emperor was somewhat pressing.

Pu Zhu explained: “It was not he who told me — he and I are far from that close. It was his cousin who sought me out privately, wanting the marriage, and asked me to help bring it about. I went along with it. Unexpectedly, Prince Qin found out and refused the marriage. So I infer that this was his act of self-preservation — a move to avoid disaster.”

Pu Zhu finished speaking, held her breath, lowered her head, and did not move.

The Emperor was silent for a good while, then suddenly said: “Raise your head.”

Pu Zhu obeyed and raised her head.

“In your view, what kind of person is my fourth brother? Speak the truth.” The Emperor fixed his gaze on her and said slowly.

Pu Zhu said: “What Prince Qin was like before, your servant does not presume to judge. As for now — in your servant’s eyes, he was first imprisoned in Wuyou Palace, then set to guard the imperial tombs. His will has long since been crushed; he seeks only his small comforts, day to day. He is, in effect, a useless man.”

The Emperor was taken aback, and gave a dry laugh: “A useless man indeed. I can only hope it is as you say — but unfortunately, though you are fairly clever, you are still too young, with limited experience of the world. You do not know that a person’s scheming can sometimes be deeper than an ancient well…”

The Emperor suddenly dropped his smile and turned cold.

“Madam Pu — are you aware of your offense?”

Pu Zhu was startled and immediately prostrated herself: “Your servant is dim-witted — I beg Your Majesty to make it clear.”

The Emperor said coldly: “I commanded you to watch for any treachery on Prince Qin’s part — and yet you speak such words as these? With you being so self-satisfied and contemptuous of him, how can you possibly serve my interests and expose evil? It seems this half year has been entirely wasted on your account!”

Pu Zhu repeatedly acknowledged her fault: “I will never dare again! From now on I will be vigilant at all times, day and night — I will not let a single clue slip by!”

Only then did the Emperor’s expression ease, and a faint smile appeared on his face: “Enough — there is no need to be so frightened. Remember: I still hold great expectations of you.”

The Emperor paused in thought, then said further: “He will be away on this trip to the Western Di Kingdom — the journey there and back will take several months. You have nothing to occupy you in the meantime. Though you have achieved nothing of note in this half year, still, in consideration of the effort you have shown, I will grant you the grace of returning home to repair the ancestral tomb. I will dispatch someone to accompany you on your return, to rebuild and restore your grandfather’s grave and erect a stele in his honor. Next year when I make my eastward progress to Mount Tai, if time permits, I may also stop by to offer libations to Lord Pu.”

The Pu family’s ancestral home was in Qizhou, not far from Mount Tai — a place long known since ancient times for its literary traditions and its abundance of talented scholars.

Pu Zhu understood at once.

The Emperor had not just now been doubting her words; he had been employing the carrot and the stick — first a sharp reprimand, then a sweet reward, so that she would continue serving him wholeheartedly.

Not only that, but he could also use this matter to burnish his own reputation.

She ground her teeth inwardly with bitter hatred — just wait and see how you die in the end — while on her face she wore an expression of profound gratitude, bowing her thanks repeatedly.

The Emperor seemed to tire of it as well, gave a nod, and told her to withdraw.

Pu Zhu stepped back out and was escorted out of the palace.

Clearly, as long as she had not yet presented the Emperor with evidence of Li Xuandu’s rebellion, they would never be satisfied, and would never let her see A’mu. As for letting her go home to pay her respects at the ancestral grave — beyond bestowing favor, the other purpose was naturally to use the occasion to display the Emperor’s vast, heaven-like generosity.

Though she felt extreme hatred toward the Emperor, she took the matter of returning home to repair the tombs of her grandfather and father very seriously. The very next day she began making preparations to set out, keeping herself busy for two days. Just before departing, she paid a visit to the Guo family to call on Madam Yan, wife of Guo Lang, whom she had not seen for some time.

Madam Yan had already heard about her return home to pay respects at the ancestral grave — the inscription for the stele had, after all, been commissioned from Guo Lang by the Emperor himself. Seeing Pu Zhu, she was warmly affectionate, took her hand and inquired after her comfort, led her into the inner room, and the two chatted for a while. Then Madam Yan dismissed the attendants and in a low voice asked about what had happened with the Crown Prince’s tiger encounter during the autumn hunt.

Pu Zhu said that on that day, the Crown Prince had led people out hunting, encountered several fierce tigers, Li Xuandu and his party had nearly come to grief, and the Crown Prince had also been unfortunately thrown from his horse and dragged a considerable distance along the ground.

Madam Yan said: “This matter is extremely secret — it has not yet spread outside the palace. Very few people know of it. Having heard it, do not let it spread.”

Pu Zhu nodded.

Only then did Madam Yan lean close and say in an extremely low voice: “I hear that the Crown Prince’s injuries that day were serious — he injured a place he should not have injured, and has not yet recovered. No wonder the Yao family has been acting strangely lately — their mistress runs to the temple every day to burn incense and pray. It seems it may well be true.”

Pu Zhu was taken aback.

Madam Yan sighed again.

“And that’s not all — the Shangguan family has also been having difficulties lately. You were not in the capital a while back, so you wouldn’t know: Shangguan Yong was impeached — someone accused him of privately seizing a large amount of common people’s farmland in his hometown. After all, the roots run deep and the branches are broad, so the matter didn’t stir up much of a wave and was quickly suppressed. But I hear it ended up implicating the Crown Prince as well, making His Majesty displeased with the Crown Prince too. On the other hand, Consort Hu’s side has apparently been growing more favored since the return from the autumn hunt. You of course know as well — His Majesty plans to make the eastern progress to Mount Tai for the Fengshan ceremonies next spring. The Crown Prince petitioned to go ahead first and prepare matters, but His Majesty used the pretext that he had other important matters and instead dispatched Prince Liu and Shen Yang to go.”

Madam Yan was deeply worried.

Guo Lang was the Crown Prince’s Grand Tutor — if the Crown Prince truly fell from favor, it would inevitably affect Guo Lang. No wonder Madam Yan was so troubled.

After the autumn hunt, Pu Zhu had again rushed off without pause to the Que Kingdom. She had not expected that during the time she was away, so many things had happened in the capital.

She couldn’t help thinking back to the scene she had witnessed on entering the palace that day.

It seemed the Emperor’s dissatisfaction with the Crown Prince was genuine — no wonder she had heard a sound of reprimanding at the time.

“Ah, what affair nowadays could be more pressing than the Fengshan ceremony at Mount Tai? Let’s hope the Crown Prince recovers soon, and that the Shangguan family refrains absolutely from any more trouble. If there is more, I’m afraid it will stir up serious complications!”

Pu Zhu knew that in her previous life, the Emperor’s preparations for the Fengshan ceremony at Mount Tai had been interrupted by the plague. Now, if everything still proceeded as before, the ceremony would naturally also come to nothing.

Beside her, Madam Yan went on and on, sighing, endlessly worried about the Crown Prince’s prospects.

Pu Zhu said nothing.

In her previous life, she recalled, Li Chengyu’s position as Crown Prince had been relatively secure. Prince Liu, the prince born of Consort Hu, had never been able to pose any real threat to Li Chengyu.

But now — if what Madam Yan had just told her was true — things were becoming different.

Li Chengyu had no heirs yet. If it was truly as she said, and he was incapable of bearing children, then even if the Shangguan family wanted to suppress the news and plot for him to ascend the throne first and figure out other arrangements afterward — how could Consort Hu’s faction and Prince Liu’s side possibly watch such an opportunity arrive on a silver platter and not try to seize it?

Things were different now. More and more events were gradually diverging from how they had originally unfolded.

And it was in this state — her heart full of worries — that Pu Zhu set out on the road back to her ancestral home to pay her respects at the family graves.