The fire in the rear courtyard of the post station was beyond stopping, but fortunately there was a firewall between the front hall and the rear courtyard, so the blaze halted when it reached that barrier.

Luo Bao had slept in the carriage during the day and was in good spirits that night, so he had volunteered to stand watch with a companion. Because the food provided by the post station that evening was very salty, both of them grew thirsty in the second half of the night and went to the kitchen to fetch some tea. They had no idea that after drinking it they would soon be unable to fight off drowsiness and fell asleep on the spot—not only were they completely unaware of when or how the fire in the rear courtyard started, but had Ye Xiao not alerted them in time and pulled them out, they would likely have burned to death in the blaze.

Luo Bao finally came to his senses, sat in a daze for a moment, then suddenly remembered that the Princess Consort of Qin did not seem to have come out yet. His expression changed drastically and he ran toward the rear courtyard, when suddenly he caught sight of her emerging from the direction of the fire—disheveled and in a sorry state, but apparently uninjured. He had just let out a breath of relief when he saw Ye Xiao being carried out by his subordinates, face as pale as paper, his body seemingly scorched with burns that looked anything but minor. And standing nearby, to his astonishment, was Shen Yang—Luo Bao stood there dumbstruck, then snapped to his senses and hurried over to help.

The maids and the others were rescued shortly after. Among the whole group, apart from Ye Xiao, who had suffered unexpected serious injuries, the rest had various degrees of burns, but thankfully none were life-threatening.

With such a major incident having occurred, the post station master had still not appeared and was nowhere to be found. Shen Yang concluded that the fire must be connected to the station master. He directed people to account for those who had died in the fire and dispatched his subordinates to search the surrounding area for the missing station master.

The station master had not gotten far and was quickly caught and brought back. Facing the grim-faced Shen Yang, he trembled and confessed: he had ordered people to deliberately make the food of Pu Zhu’s party extremely salty so as to induce thirst, then had drugs added to the tea water. Once the night guards on duty had been knocked unconscious by the drugs, he arranged for the fire to be set—with Pu Zhu and her party as the specific targets.

Shen Yang pressed him on who had given the order. The station master refused to speak at first. One of Shen Yang’s men stepped forward, raised his hand, and severed one of the station master’s fingers, then another—two in quick succession. The station master screamed in agony and passed out, and after being doused awake with cold water, finally confessed that he had been acting on the orders of the provincial governor of Tongzhou. As for the governor’s actual purpose, he did not know. He had simply been promised that once the deed was done, he would take his reward money and flee.

Ye Xiao had been seriously injured. After Shen Yang dragged him out from under the burning timber, his subordinates found them and immediately carried him away. A military physician among the retinue was summoned and swiftly treated his wounds. Pu Zhu forced herself to stay nearby and assist despite her fear of blood, and when she saw his bleeding gradually stop and medicinal salve applied to the burns on his back—though he had yet to regain consciousness—his color looked somewhat better than before, and she finally felt a small measure of relief.

She sat in the room listening to the intermittent screams of the station master being interrogated outside. The sounds gradually faded away. Then Shen Yang came to find her and told her the results of the interrogation: the station master had been acting on the orders of the provincial governor of Tongzhou, whose objective had been to burn all of them to death.

As he spoke, he stood at the doorway and did not enter, and his tone was very respectful—he seemed to hold her in considerable regard, which felt quite different from the encounter at the hunting trail during the autumn hunt.

Pu Zhu quickly noticed that his palm appeared to have a burn, likely sustained when he had moved that burning timber just now. She opened her mouth to ask about it.

He said it was only a minor injury and not to worry—told her not to trouble herself over it.

Pu Zhu fell silent.

Shen Yang looked at her and said, “If I have guessed correctly, you must be wondering how it is that I, too, came to be here tonight—what a coincidence.”

Pu Zhu did have some suspicions. She thought of the fire at Chengyuan, looked at him, and still said nothing.

Shen Yang gave a self-deprecating smile. “It seems I have never done a single good deed in ordinary times, which is why the Princess Consort suspects me. But Shen can swear to heaven that tonight’s fire has absolutely nothing to do with me. The Princess Consort should know that His Majesty is preparing to go on his eastern tour for the Taishan Fengshan ceremony. Shen, unworthy as I am, has had the honor of traveling ahead with Prince Liu’s advance party to make arrangements for the eastern tour. A few days ago, when matters were concluded, I was rushing back to the capital to report. I arrived here tonight on the road and happened to encounter the Princess Consort—purely a coincidence.”

Pu Zhu studied his expression and felt that the fire genuinely had nothing to do with him. If he had truly set it, his aim would naturally have been to burn her to death—so why would he have shown up to rescue her afterward?

She finally spoke, her tone considerably softer: “So long as General Shen’s hand is not seriously hurt. Thank you for saving Ye Xiao just now.”

Shen Yang said it was nothing worth mentioning and told her not to give it another thought. Then his expression turned to one of concern: “Does the Princess Consort have any grievance with the governor of Tongzhou? Why else would he have gone so utterly mad as to dare lay a hand on the Princess Consort?”

Pu Zhu thought for a moment and said, “A plague has broken out within Tongzhou’s jurisdiction. I passed through on my way back from ancestral rites at my hometown a few days ago and inadvertently learned of it. I asked about the situation and intend to report it to the capital when I return. Perhaps the governor fears it will affect his performance review and wants to cover it up—which is why he moved against me.”

Shen Yang was furious when he heard this, cursed the man as deserving death, then after a moment’s thought said gravely: “A plague concerns human lives. If it spreads, no one can imagine how many people might die—the consequences would be devastating. Since we happen to meet here and are traveling the same road, if the Princess Consort does not object, I will escort you back to the capital tomorrow so this can be reported to His Majesty’s ears without delay!”

Ye Xiao had been protecting and looking after her all this way; tonight he was seriously wounded and was still unconscious. It was likely he would not be able to travel as usual tomorrow. Moreover, even when he did wake, she hoped he would rest for a few days and recover properly.

This Shen Yang, though ambitious and unscrupulous, showed nothing objectionable in this particular matter.

The governor had failed in his attempt tonight. A cornered dog would jump over a wall—there was very likely more to come, and she had to return to the capital as quickly as possible. That was the absolute priority right now.

Pu Zhu said, “To defer to your kind offer is better than to decline it—thank you very much, General!”

Shen Yang nodded. “The Princess Consort had a terrible fright last night and must be worn out. Shen will not disturb you further. You may sleep a little longer—there is no rush to set out until you have rested.”

Pu Zhu asked what time it was, and when she learned it was nearly the fifth watch, she said, “I am not tired. Let us leave at daybreak!”

Shen Yang glanced at her, nodded in agreement, then said that there was still a while before dawn and suggested she rest a bit more. With that, he took his leave.

Exhausted and weary, Pu Zhu closed her eyes and rested, leaning back, until daybreak, when she went to check on Ye Xiao.

Ye Xiao had only just regained consciousness. When he learned she was about to depart with Shen Yang accompanying them, he immediately struggled to get up—and was struck by a sudden dizziness.

Pu Zhu told him to stay and recover, to rest well.

Shen Yang had also come in, and he said from the side, in an offhand tone: “With his injuries this severe, Senior Guard Ye would find it difficult even to walk, let alone ride horseback over a long journey. I don’t mind bringing the Senior Guard along, but in all things one should know one’s limits.”

The implication was plain: if Ye Xiao came along in this state, he would only be a burden.

Ye Xiao was silent for a moment, then spoke to thank him for saving his life.

Shen Yang said it was nothing, then turned to Pu Zhu: “Shen will step outside and wait for the Princess Consort.”

After Shen Yang left, Pu Zhu ordered Ye Xiao not to push himself any further and urged him to recover first. She gave him a number of instructions, then had the injured maids and the ladies’ attendants stay behind with him—telling them to wait for Ye Xiao and travel back to the capital together once his injuries improved. Finally, she took only Luo Bao, who insisted on coming along, and the remaining few guards.

Last night’s fire had burned everything inside the room. Fortunately, over these days of traveling, they had packed only the bare necessities when settling in each night, leaving the rest of their belongings in the wagons carrying their luggage, which were unharmed—including her father’s manuscript and that crane flute, both still safely stored in their trunk.

Pu Zhu packed a few things, loaded up her travel bags, and set out again on the road.

Over the next few days, the journey proceeded normally. Along the way, Shen Yang attended to her with exceptional consideration—so attentive, in fact, that it made Pu Zhu slightly uneasy. But beyond that, there was nothing out of the ordinary.

The capital was drawing ever closer. Pu Zhu gradually let her guard down and could only think of getting there as soon as possible. But on the third day, an unexpected incident occurred. In the afternoon, the party arrived at a ferry crossing and discovered that the bridge had broken down. When they asked the people along the bank, they said it had been perfectly fine just yesterday—apparently having fallen into disrepair over the years, it had collapsed in the night. Because the river was wide with swift currents in the middle, ordinary small boats dared not carry passengers without a vessel of at least seven zhang; ordinary travelers wishing to cross had no choice but to wait for the bridge to be repaired.

Shen Yang immediately sent someone to ask the local county magistrate when the bridge could be fixed. The magistrate, hearing that Shen Yang had arrived, hurried over personally in great haste and said he would put men on the repairs at once, but at the fastest, it would take ten days to half a month.

Pu Zhu grew anxious and asked if there were any large boats.

Shen Yang immediately reassured her, told her not to worry, went over and said a few more words to the county magistrate, then came back and reported that the magistrate had promised to find large boats as soon as possible—but today would likely be too late. He asked if she could first enter the town and stay one night.

Pu Zhu had no choice but to turn around and head into town. That evening they did not stay at the post station. Shen Yang said the post station was almost full of people and the conditions were poor. A wealthy local family, upon hearing that the Princess Consort of Qin had arrived, was happy to offer lodgings—a very secluded private garden.

Pu Zhu could only follow the arrangements and moved in. The next day she pressed for news. Shen Yang said the county magistrate still hadn’t been able to find a suitable vessel large enough to carry carts and horses, but knowing she was extremely anxious, he had already dispatched capable men early that morning to take the long way around, to deliver her message to the capital on her behalf.

On the third day, no large boat had yet been found, and on top of that, from the moment she had settled in, local gentry and wealthy families had sent their womenfolk every single day to pay respects and invite her to banquets and gatherings.

By the fourth day, at the hour of the fourth watch, when the night was black as ink and it was the deepest hour of sleep, Pu Zhu, in a darkened and unlit room, opened her eyes. By the faint shimmer of moonlight, she rose from the bed, walked to the door, quietly pushed it open, and was just about to step outside when her silhouette froze.

Luo Bao was indeed waiting outside her door, a pack on his back—but he was kneeling on the ground, head bowed, completely motionless.

In the center of the courtyard stood another person, holding a paper lantern. The candlelight flickered dim, casting light upon his face. He said: “It is only the fourth watch—still a long while before dawn. Shen dares to ask: where is the Princess Consort going, not resting at this hour?”

Pu Zhu stared steadily at this man.

From the second day onward, when he had continued to put off finding a suitable large boat, her suspicions had begun. Yesterday she had learned from a visiting woman that this bridge was not the only crossing—going downstream several dozen li, there was another passable route. So she had quietly made arrangements, planning to slip away in the middle of the night.

At this moment, if all had gone smoothly, her retinue should have already prepared the carriage and been waiting for her at the back gate of this place.

“Where are they?” She fixed her gaze on the figure in the center of the courtyard and spoke at last, her voice hoarse. “Where are my people?”

“Do not worry—they are unharmed. I listened to you and saved that Ye Xiao; would I harm even one hair on their heads? I simply saw they were tired and invited them all to rest.”

He put down the lantern he held, walked over to stand before Luo Bao, who was still kneeling on the ground, and barked a single word: “Get out.”

Luo Bao looked up at Pu Zhu, who was watching him, said nothing, scrambled up from the ground, bowed his head, and hastily left.

Shen Yang stepped over the threshold of his own accord and walked to the table, lighting the candle on the candleholder. He turned and said to her in a gentle voice: “Settle your mind and stay. Don’t let your thoughts run wild, and don’t wander about. This place is very safe—you may stay as long as you wish. If you are not satisfied, tell me and I will arrange different lodgings, change them until you are satisfied. But you are not familiar with these parts, so do not venture out on your own. If you were to get lost, that would not be good. Rest now—I will not disturb you further.”

Pu Zhu was furious. She fixed him with a straight gaze and said: “Shen Yang, I know you are ambitious and capable of anything—that in itself means nothing. If you truly have the ability, I would still respect you as a man of standing. But I never imagined that you are cut from the same cloth as those people in Tongzhou! You are the most contemptible and shameless person I have ever encountered in my life!”

Shen Yang had been about to turn and leave. At these words, his silhouette paused, then he slowly turned his head, looked at her for a moment, and suddenly said: “I admit it freely—throughout this journey I have indeed been following you and traveling alongside you. But what I told you that night at the post station was not false. The fire has nothing to do with me. I went in when I saw the flames, for the sole purpose of saving you.”

Pu Zhu said coldly: “To receive such deep feeling from the General is truly my honor.”

Shen Yang stared at her for a moment, then suddenly let out a cold snort. “Pu Zhu, you know I want to treat you well. Were it not for your sake, it wouldn’t matter if a hundred Ye Xiaos died that night—it was nothing to do with me. The reason I am blocking you from entering the capital and keeping you here is also for you—to protect you, because I do not want you to be drawn into the factional strife between the Crown Prince and Prince Liu.”

Pu Zhu started.

What did those words mean?

Was it Tongzhou—the Shangguan family, then?

But what about Prince Liu? How did he factor into this?

A dim glimmer of understanding stirred within her, though it was not yet fully clear. She hesitated, then said: “Please explain.”

Shen Yang said: “The governor of Tongzhou is one of the Shangguan family’s people. His Majesty has been preparing for many years; the eastern tour is finally to proceed. The significance of the Fengshan ceremony on Mount Tai to an emperor, you should understand clearly. And the Shangguan family understands it even more clearly. The Crown Prince is already out of imperial favor—at this critical juncture, if a plague in Tongzhou were additionally to be exposed and by any chance ruin His Majesty’s Fengshan ceremony, put yourself in the Shangguan family’s position: what would you do?”

Pu Zhu said nothing.

“They fear losing imperial favor even further. They fear their opponents seizing the opportunity to make much of it. I will tell you plainly: the very day the governor received the news, he reported it to Shangguan Yong by eight-hundred-li urgent dispatch. They were set on suppressing the information, yet you, heedless of your own good, intended to go to the capital and report it. By now you should know who truly wanted you dead that night, yes?”

Pu Zhu had originally thought the governor was acting solely out of concern for his performance record; she had never imagined the connection behind it all had such deeply intertwined threads leading back to the Shangguan family.

She was stunned for a moment, then suddenly recalled something and asked urgently: “Has Tongzhou actually been placed under quarantine?”

Shen Yang looked at her as though she were a fool, and asked in return: “What do you think?”

Pu Zhu’s heart began to race.

Given that the Shangguan family had decided to suppress the news—fearing their opponents would catch wind of it and use it against them—how could they allow the governor to impose a quarantine and make such a commotion?

“What exactly are they doing now?” she pressed again.

Shen Yang did not answer.

“Tell me quickly!”

Finally, Shen Yang said: “What else could they do? Naturally, they are driving the sick into one place and rounding them up. Those who can be treated are treated; those who cannot recover—well, better they die sooner and be done with it.”

“This will lead to catastrophe! Wu Zhilin made it perfectly clear—based on his experience, the entire county must be sealed off as early as possible and all movement in and out strictly forbidden! If they refuse to do so and it spreads, aren’t they afraid?”

Shen Yang said coolly: “It is nothing but a few deaths. They will not tolerate anyone disrupting their plans. Never mind a few villages—even if an entire county were to die, what would it matter?”

Pu Zhu steadied herself. “And what of Prince Liu? You said just now you didn’t want me drawn into it—what does Prince Liu have to do with this?”

Shen Yang said: “Also by coincidence—it seems Heaven willed it so—this time, Prince Liu was traveling with me, and so the Hu family also learned of this matter early on. Naturally they hope things will blow up, the bigger the better. A plague spreading through one county isn’t enough? Best if it scatters across all of Tongzhou—then they can use it to attack Shangguan Yong for concealing a major epidemic. Just imagine: when that day comes, what a commotion there will be at court.”

“So do you understand now? At present, neither side wants word to reach the top. Yet you are determined to report it to the throne. You have offended not only the Shangguan family but also Prince Liu’s faction. You will never reach the capital—there are obstacles blocking you at every pass ahead. If you insist on pressing forward, what awaits you will certainly be more accidents like the fire. I am detaining you here—I say it is for your own good. In what way am I wrong?”

Pu Zhu finally understood—completely, utterly understood—why in her previous life the plague had spread as it did.

The Shangguan family had instructed the governor to conceal it, then refused to heed Wu Zhilin’s advice, ultimately causing the situation to spiral completely out of control. Afterward, the Emperor had been bent on eliminating Li Xuandu, launching an attack on the Que kingdom; the Shangguan family had covered everything with one hand, promptly found a scapegoat, promptly cleared themselves of blame, and in the end emerged completely unscathed.

And in this life, the situation was evidently more complicated still—with the addition of a Prince Liu who was also stirring with restless ambition.

She felt a chill spread through her entire body, as though she had contracted malaria—wave after wave of cold. She fixed her gaze on Shen Yang’s face—that strange face that seemed to wear a faint smile yet appeared completely cold and indifferent—and said, word by word: “General Shen, since you stand with neither side, I beg you—release me at once!”

Shen Yang started, looked at her, his brow furrowing slightly. “Why will you simply not listen? Even if I release you, do you think you can arrive safely?”

Pu Zhu said: “That is my concern. Have you thought about this: relying on the officials in Tongzhou, can they actually contain a plague? If in the end it is not enough—one Tongzhou is not enough—and it spreads to other prefectures and counties, all the way to the capital? How many people will die?”

Shen Yang did not blink, and said coolly: “You are overthinking it. Besides, achieving great things cannot be done while fretting over minor details. Take warfare—because one fears death, does that mean one should not fight? People dying—so what? Afterward the court will reduce taxes; for the realm, that is itself a form of compensation.”

Pu Zhu was speechless.

At this moment, for some reason, she even thought of Li Chengyu.

Even if the person before her were replaced by Li Chengyu, he would likely still not be able to speak of such a matter with a voice entirely devoid of feeling.

She also now understood: this Commander of the Southern Bureau, who spoke again and again of protecting her, was in this matter almost certainly playing the role of one who watches tigers fight from the safety of a distant mountain.

She said slowly: “I understand. You say you are protecting me now—and afterward? How do you intend to deal with me? How long do you plan to keep me hidden away?”

Shen Yang’s gaze fell upon her.

These days on the road, whether from the exhaustion of travel or from the weight of worry, she had grown somewhat thinner than before, her face more delicately angular. In the candlelight, her complexion was faintly pale, and as she looked at him like this, she resembled a lone, slender wild orchid blooming quietly beneath the moon—a sight that naturally stirred pity.

His voice softened: “Settle down here for now. Once things are over, I will assess the situation and make arrangements.”

He paused.

“Pu Zhu, do not worry. I will not harm you. As long as you yield to me, I will treat you well for the rest of my life.”

Wait for things to be over, then assess the situation?

Meaning: if the Shangguan faction were to fall because of this affair, he could quietly tuck her away as a captive kept for his pleasure?

It was not impossible.

The Shangguan people could set a fire to burn her—he could naturally arrange another fire and afterward pin the blame on the Shangguan faction.

Pu Zhu’s gaze shifted subtly: “When I was traveling to my old home in Qizhou, the post stations along the way provided excellently—there were even tribute goods sometimes. When I reached Weizhou, the meal actually included silvery eel. General Shen, if I have not guessed wrong, that must have been your arrangement. My thanks.”

Shen Yang smiled slightly. “A trifle, nothing worth mentioning. As long as you are pleased, anything under heaven that exists—I will sooner or later obtain it and present it to you.”

Pu Zhu gave a light, sardonic laugh: “Listening to your tone, you also want to be emperor? No wonder you are content to watch the tigers fight from the sidelines this time. Let me tell you: if my luck had not been bad—if the Emperor had not married me off to Li Xuandu with some ulterior motive—I would now be the Crown Princess. Even so, the Crown Prince, to this day, still cannot forget me. So I advise you: empty words of this sort, spare me the trouble of hearing them in the future.”

Shen Yang narrowed his eyes, his tone turning cold: “Pu Zhu, I know you have many admirers. But if even now you still place your hopes in the Crown Prince, I fear you will be disappointed.”

Pu Zhu met his gaze steadily. The mocking smile that had been on her face gradually faded, and she said softly: “General Shen, I am not like Madam Teng with a powerful clan to lean on, nor am I like the Princess Imperial with dazzling authority and influence. Why do you favor me so?”

In Shen Yang’s mind arose the scene after the polo match during the autumn hunt.

She had been radiant with exertion, cheeks flushed, and swiftly dismounted from her horse—only to accidentally knock off her hat and tumble down, her full head of dark hair falling loose.

In that instant, he had felt as though that cascade of dark hair had tumbled into his heart, and afterward the itch of it had kept him restless for several nights.

During those few nights, he had known she was sleeping in Li Xuandu’s tent not far from his own. That feeling had been a particular torment.

He also recalled New Year’s Eve, when she and her maids had cut spring banner streamers and stuck them in their hair, laughing and playing about.

He savored the memory, and the brooding shadow that had been on his face gradually disappeared. Even in those dark, deep-set eyes of his, a thread of warmth appeared.

“I simply want to treat you well. Other women—none can compare to you.”

“This time, passing through, I also went to pay my respects at your father’s grave, to show my sincerity.”

Pu Zhu gazed at him for a moment, then suddenly gave a soft, disdainful laugh. She lightly lifted the hem of her skirt, and one embroidered shoe flew out from beneath it and landed at his feet. Seeing him look at the shoe and then at herself, she lifted her chin and said: “Did you not say once that being able to put a shoe on for me would be your honor?”

Shen Yang’s gaze stirred. His eyes gradually darkened. He bent down, picked up the shoe she had kicked toward him, walked up to her, and crouched before her, slowly reaching out his hand, about to slip it under the hem of her skirt—when he saw her suddenly step back, shaking her head as though regretting it: “Never mind. I was only joking with you just now. General Shen, you had better leave.”

She gathered her skirt and, barefoot on one foot, turned and fled as though running for her life.

Shen Yang watched her light retreating figure—how could he let her escape so easily? He gave chase and caught her, trapping her behind a folding screen.

Candlelight filtered through the screen, the light dim and faint. She had her back pressed against the screen to evade him, hands clasped behind her, and was giggling softly: “General Shen, don’t you feel ashamed? You actually went and made inquiries about what skin cream I use? Have you smelled it? I let you smell my hair—is this the fragrance?”

Shen Yang’s soul trembled with longing. Following her words, he bowed his head toward her.

He closed his eyes, breathing in the faint and delicate fragrance drifting from her hair, and for a moment his heart was utterly unmoored. Feeling that he could no longer endure it, he was just about to pull her into his arms when suddenly—as though something had savagely bitten the back of his skull—a burst of excruciating pain struck him, followed by a ringing “buzz” in his ears, and he crashed headlong to the ground.

Luo Bao stood gripping a club, eyes fixed intently on Shen Yang, who had collapsed unconscious on the floor. He asked: “Princess Consort, are you all right?”

Pu Zhu said: “I am fine!”

She dashed to the inner room, retrieved a length of rope she had prepared in advance, and together with Luo Bao, bound the man’s hands and feet tightly, then stopped his mouth as well.

Luo Bao swiftly hoisted Shen Yang onto his back. Pu Zhu walked out holding a dagger and commanded Shen Yang’s men outside to release the carriage and her people that had been detained.

She boarded the carriage as planned, had Shen Yang placed inside as well, and following the route she had inquired about over the previous two days, raced off in the direction of the capital.

Luo Bao had struck with great force. By the time the sky was nearly brightening, Shen Yang only then regained consciousness.

He lay on his back at her feet, frowned, and let out a pained groan. Seeing her cold face staring down at him, expressionless, he signaled her to remove what had been stuffed in his mouth.

Pu Zhu helped him undo the gag.

Shen Yang said in a hoarse voice: “Your escape last night—that too was premeditated?”

Pu Zhu said: “What else? When I asked about the alternative road, naturally that would make you suspicious. With someone as sharp as you, if I had not let you catch me first, how would you have fallen for it?”

Shen Yang closed his eyes, let out a long exhale, then opened them again and said coldly: “I told you before—even if you set out on the road, you will not get through. Never mind that you are holding me hostage; my men are certainly behind us and will not let you go. And both those factions have people waiting for you ahead!”

Pu Zhu reached out and felt along his waist, found the command token he carried for his mission, and yanked it free.

“General Shen, rest assured—I am merely borrowing your token. As for keeping you with me in the carriage, I would not dare have you stay long. At the first opportunity ahead, I will release you.”

Shen Yang’s expression instantly stiffened. He watched helplessly as she pocketed his token, and after a long pause, said through gritted teeth: “I will concede to you in this, Pu Zhu. But I genuinely do not understand—Li Xuandu is nominally the Prince of Qin, yet his own position is precarious; who can say what his future holds. What on earth do you see in him? I flatter myself that I have treated you generously; you are such a clever woman—why can’t you read the times?”

Pu Zhu said: “Shen Yang, power is a fine thing—I want it too. But your way of reading the times is something I truly cannot agree with. The plague in Tongzhou—I am certain to report it. You saved Ye Xiao, and I am very grateful. You may rest assured: I will keep every word you said to me last night a complete secret and will not breathe a syllable to anyone—including Li Xuandu. As for what comes after—whether you succeed or fail—let each look to his own fate!”

The carriage racing along the road came to a steep slope and slowed. As the pursuers behind gradually caught up, Pu Zhu opened the carriage door, pushed Shen Yang out, letting him roll down the hillside, then shut the door and ordered them to drive at full speed.

The carriage flew along the main road, racing day and night. At every checkpoint they passed, they showed Shen Yang’s token, and without exception they were waved through without obstruction. Traveling on like this for several more days, they finally entered the outskirts of the capital, and the capital city came distantly into view.

In the evening, the carriage raced up to the Eastern Auxiliary Gate of the capital. A group of soldiers stood guard before the gate in strict formation, checking every carriage and traveler attempting to enter. When it came to Pu Zhu’s carriage, the escort presented Shen Yang’s token and announced that they were returning to the capital on official orders with urgent business, demanding immediate passage.

Several soldiers inspected the token repeatedly. Hesitating, and not daring to obstruct them, they were just about to allow passage when a commanding officer walked over, took the token, examined it, then stepped forward to the side of the carriage and said respectfully: “It is not that we small soldiers dare to obstruct anyone, only that orders from above state that regardless of who it may be, all persons crossing the gate must show their face for inspection. Would the person inside be so kind as to oblige?”

The curtain of the carriage door remained tightly closed, without the slightest movement. After a long moment, the commanding officer exchanged a glance with the soldiers, who were about to move forward when suddenly the carriage door was pushed open from inside. Inside sat a scarred, burly man with cloth wrapped around his head as though injured, gazing coldly outward.

The commanding officer was taken aback—seeing it was not the person he was looking for, he quickly stepped back and ordered them through.

Deep in the night, the carriage entered the capital through the Eastern Gate—using Shen Yang’s waist token once more to have the city gate opened—and then headed in secret directly for the Penglai Palace. Female Official Chen came out; when she saw it was Ye Xiao who had arrived through the night, she asked the purpose of his coming, was greatly startled, and immediately brought him into the palace to see Madam Jiang.

The Emperor was roused from sleep and traveled by imperial litter in haste to stand before Madam Jiang, where he learned that a plague had broken out in Tongzhou, that the governor had concealed it, and that the physician Wu Zhilin had risked his life to speak the truth and entrusted the Princess Consort of Qin to bring the matter to the Emperor’s ears.

The Emperor was shocked and furious. He returned to the palace at once and summoned his ministers and the imperial physicians for an emergency court session through the night. The final decision was to dispatch Prince Duan and Guangping Marquis Han Rongchang as chief and deputy supervisory envoys, leading all the physicians of the Imperial Medical Academy immediately to Tongzhou with orders to extinguish the epidemic as quickly as possible and thoroughly investigate the matter.

At dawn, amid various discussions among the court officials, Prince Duan and Han Rongchang received their orders and departed the capital for Tongzhou.

In the Penglai Palace, as morning light gradually brightened, Madam Jiang sat within the Hall of Jiande, listening to Song Changsheng—sent by the Emperor—report the news. When she heard that Shangguan Yong had publicly confessed his guilt before the court, blaming himself for poor judgment in his appointment of men, to the point of weeping openly, her expression became hollow.

She drifted into thought for a moment, then turned and asked Female Official Chen: “Where exactly is that child now?”

Female Official Chen said: “Ye Xiao says she fell ill on the road and, also worried that she might be blocked at the checkpoints ahead, got out of the carriage halfway and had Ye Xiao enter the capital in her place to convey the message. As for where she went, he says it is the home of an acquaintance—because it was not convenient to say, he did not tell Ye Xiao—only told him not to worry, saying it was someone she trusted and that nothing would go wrong. She will return to the capital on her own once she has recovered.”

A look of anxious worry appeared on Madam Jiang’s face. She was just about to speak when Li Hui’er came rushing in from outside the hall, knelt before Madam Jiang, her eyes red, and cried: “Where on earth is Imperial Aunt? When will Imperial Uncle be back? I want to go and meet her!”