The sand table remained right where it was, untouched.
Wu Yong watched Shao Yao haul Hua Zhi — wheelchair and all — up over the threshold, his mouth twitching slightly. “First Young Miss, shall we play a round?”
Hua Zhi shook her head. “Play with Shao Yao. Her combat instincts are better than mine.”
Shao Yao absolutely refused to accept this high praise. “That’s ridiculous. I’ve never once beaten you.”
Hua Zhi reached up and pinched her cheek. “Take me back to my room first.”
Shao Yao grumbled and huffed as she pushed her away. Wu Yong turned back to look at Hua Yizheng. “Old Lord, you have taught her well.”
Hua Yizheng shook his head. “I haven’t taught her much at all.”
Wu Yong assumed he was being modest, gave a slight bow of respect, and headed toward the sand table. The odd-looking girl was already stepping out of her room to meet him.
Inside the room, Zeng Han sat on a small stool, reading.
Hua Zhi called him over and handed him a set of brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, along with several copybooks. “These are written in your grandfather’s hand. Recognizing characters alone isn’t enough — you need to practice writing them.”
Zeng Han took the brush and inkstone but made no move to take the copybooks. “I want yours.”
“My handwriting is too cramped and limited — it isn’t suited for you. Your grandfather’s calligraphy is the work of a true master. In the capital, countless people have begged for a single piece of it. You don’t know how fortunate you are.” Hua Zhi pressed the copybooks against his small face, then took his little hand, pressed it against them for just a moment, then let go. She then, with some effort, pushed the wheelchair wheels toward the writing desk.
Before she had even moved, the wheelchair was already rolling. Hua Zhi didn’t look back — she simply let the small child push her, saying as they went, “One day you can develop your own style. But first, you have to learn to write.”
Zeng Han made a small sound of acknowledgment, with no particular feeling in it. The reason he had wanted Hua Zhi’s handwriting was only because she was the one person in this world he recognized — not because he knew whether her writing was good or poor.
Hua Zhi didn’t press him to be any particular way. A person growing according to their own nature was a fine thing. Her role was only to give a gentle pull now and then to keep him from going too far astray.
She patted his head. Hua Zhi spread out a sheet of paper, and the child, clearly having done this before, set about grinding the ink with practiced ease.
What Hua Zhi intended to do was write out, from memory, as many texts on military strategy as she could.
She harbored no illusion that every person in the household would have a natural aptitude for it. For the younger generation, she had frankly not even considered it. Her motives were simpler and more personal — she wanted to find a way to free those brothers of hers from the grinding labor they had been reduced to. Whether they returned to their brushes or threw themselves into mastering archery and horsemanship, either path was more worthwhile than being worked like hired hands.
Her hopes rested with the two older generations. The Hua Family’s scholars had never been confined to the classical canon. Her father, for instance, had a formidable mastery of mathematics — she had once watched him calculate and project an astronomical calendar, working in a field she understood nothing of, yet for him it had been entirely effortless.
And her quiet, reserved second uncle had a talent for military strategy and formation — she had come across his annotations in several texts on the subject, and they were remarkably incisive. True, it had all been theoretical so far. But now, had not the opportunity come to them?
Fifty-four people. If even four of them could establish themselves in the military encampment, the Hua Family would have its footing.
None of that was hers to manage, though. Her task was simply to write out what she remembered and give her brothers a direction in which their efforts could actually matter.
That same day, Gu Yanxi returned to the capital.
He went directly to the Seven Lodges Division. Chen Qing and Qu Seven were already waiting.
“Chief.” Qu Seven presented a long lacquered case with both hands.
Gu Yanxi took it and set it down on the table with a quiet press of his hand. “The Second Prince is getting impatient?”
“Yes. With no news from Yinshan Pass, he has likely guessed that something went wrong. Over the past few days, your subordinate followed him as he met with a considerable number of people — civil officials and military officers alike. Your subordinate has entered all their names on the list.”
Gu Yanxi tapped the case lightly with his finger. “What else has he been doing?”
“He’s made several visits to the Fifth Prince over the past few days. Your subordinate isn’t certain how he managed it, but he seems to have won the Fifth Prince’s complete trust. Your subordinate suspects he may be looking for someone to take the fall for him.”
Gu Yanxi let out a cold laugh. “Continue.”
“Yes. The Tong Family sent a young woman to Noble Consort Hui. His Majesty has been spending his evenings there these past few days, with gifts and rewards flowing continuously. According to reports, His Majesty has not been sharing her bed every night — Chief Eunuch Lai Fu says she knows certain… unusual diversions. His Majesty appears to be thoroughly entertained.”
“What does the physician say?”
“The physician says he is a physician, and his concern is the sick. When His Majesty falls ill, he may be summoned.”
That did sound like something the physician would say. Gu Yanxi turned to look at Chen Qing. “Your side — what news?”
“Following your instructions, your subordinate has located every person the Second Prince has under his control. They can be extracted from his reach at any moment.”
“Zeng Xian’s case — has it been fully clarified?”
“Yes.” A cold, flat light settled in Chen Qing’s eyes. “Minister of Revenue Fang Hongzhi is the Second Prince’s most influential supporter among the civil officials. Your subordinate traced his history and found that in his younger years he received assistance from the Tong Family — without them, he would never have risen to his current position. Of those seventy thousand taels, not a single coin entered Zeng Xian’s hands. A small portion went to Fang Hongzhi. The majority went into the Second Prince’s own coffers.”
Gu Yanxi’s gaze drifted to the regional map on the wall, settling on Yinshan Pass. “I recall that Zhu Bowen was transferred to the Ministry of Revenue three years ago.”
“Yes.” Chen Qing had investigated the Ministry of Revenue thoroughly — that meant investigating every person in it. “Lord Zhu is the First Young Miss’s maternal grandfather. The events of that time had nothing to do with him.”
Gu Yanxi already knew as much. With Fang Hongzhi’s downfall, Zhu Bowen’s ascent was all but certain — and his impression of Zhu Bowen was a good one. Not everyone could do as he had done: in the wake of an old friend’s ruin, at the risk of drawing the Emperor’s displeasure down upon himself, still do everything in his power to shield that friend’s family. Officials like that were worth employing.
As for the Emperor himself — Gu Yanxi lowered his gaze. His Imperial Uncle held a strange wariness toward the Hua Family, yet had an equally strange fondness for those who protected them. The steady stream of commendations Zhu Bowen had received made that plain — even the tributary gifts bestowed upon him were a measure more generous than those given to others.
“Is all the evidence secured?”
“Yes.” Chen Qing lifted a wooden tray with both hands. It held dossiers, memorials, and various other documents.
Gu Yanxi set down the bundle he had brought back on top of the tray, opened the case, and examined everything carefully before placing those items on top as well. Then he put on his mask. “Notify the Three Judicial Offices. Bring the Second Prince to Haoxin Hall for an audience.”
“Yes.”
As he stepped out of the building, Gu Yanxi saw Lai Fu hurrying toward him — and in just the short time since he had last seen him, the man seemed to have aged noticeably.
Lai Fu bowed deeply. “You’ve finally returned. His Majesty has just received word and immediately sent this old servant to request your presence.”
The two walked side by side, Lai Fu keeping half a step behind, his voice dropping low. “The young woman at Noble Consort Hui’s quarters — her background may be rather dubious, my lord. In this old servant’s observation, the… techniques she employs seem to be the sort one learns in establishments of ill repute. His Majesty suffered a great shock not long ago, and yet now he seems to be quite taken with her.”
Gu Yanxi stopped walking. “She isn’t from the Tong Family proper?”
Qu Seven also looked over sharply — they hadn’t noticed anything irregular in a night of observation, and neither had the Seven Lodges Division followed up with more thorough inquiries.
“She is surnamed Tong, and was personally brought by the Old Madame of the Tong Family. This old servant has been close to His Majesty and has seen her on two occasions — her bearing and manners appeared entirely proper. And yet something continued to seem not quite right to this old servant. When I later learned what manner of techniques she employs, a suspicion took root.”
“Look into it.”
A figure flashed briefly in a shadowed corner and was gone.
Author’s note: Kongkong will be attending an interview event in Hangzhou on the fifteenth. If you have questions, feel free to leave them in the review section — the editor will consider them if appropriate. And if anyone plans to attend in person, you’re very welcome.