The youth over there, hearing this, was about to casually hand him a scroll of bamboo slips, but First Prince Fu Su smiled and said: “Speaking of that ‘Official Appointment Laws,’ I do have an impression—it’s on top of the third pile on the left side of the warm pavilion. I just looked at it today, so it shouldn’t have been moved. Bi Zhi, go fetch it.”

Sun Shuo was moved in his heart, knowing the first prince must be aware of Hu Hai’s habit of standing guard outside the warm pavilion and understood his reason for borrowing the “Official Appointment Laws.” But he truly didn’t dare trouble the nearby youth—after all, he was a High Minister! So he quickly bowed his head lower and said: “No need to trouble you, sir. If convenient, this servant can go fetch it myself.”

That youth probably hadn’t wanted to make the trip either—after all, there was quite a distance from here to the warm pavilion, and on this autumn night with cold wind and heavy dew, he was even less willing to step outside. The youth untied a key from his waist and handed it to him, instructing him not to rummage through things randomly, and if he encountered anyone, to say the first prince had sent him to fetch books.

Sun Shuo noted everything down. Actually, this wasn’t the first time such a thing had happened—there had been occasions before when books Hu Hai specifically wanted to borrow were in the warm pavilion. After all, Young Master Hu Hai had no one to teach him and could only listen to their court discussions, so naturally he became interested in the laws mentioned in their conversations, leading to such incidents of having to go to the warm pavilion to fetch borrowed books. Moreover, many of Fu Su’s bamboo slips were constantly moved back and forth from his study to the warm pavilion. Moving bamboo slips was hard labor, and he had often been called upon to help. After all, these attendants who were considered illiterate were the most reliable laborers.

Taking the key to the warm pavilion, Sun Shuo took his leave and headed toward the warm pavilion in the deep night. Though the night was dark, for an attendant who had lived here for over ten years, moonlight was sufficient to see the path clearly. Soon he arrived outside the warm pavilion. Through the windows, he could see the pavilion emitting a faint blue glow. Because of fears about oil smoke choking people and fires burning important governmental documents, the lighting in the warm pavilion wasn’t oil lamps but luminous pearls.

Sun Shuo went around to the main entrance of the warm pavilion and was about to take out the key to unlock it, but discovered the lock wasn’t on the door bolt.

Sun Shuo was momentarily stunned. As far as he knew, only three people had keys to the warm pavilion: Emperor Shihuang, First Prince Fu Su, and Master of Insignia and Seals Zhao Gao. First Prince Fu Su’s key was now in his hands, so regardless of which of the other two was inside the warm pavilion, he couldn’t rashly enter. But after calming down, he realized there were currently no guards posted outside the warm pavilion, so it definitely wasn’t Emperor Shihuang inside.

Why was Zhao Gao in the warm pavilion in the dead of night? Sun Shuo’s heart felt like a cat was scratching it—curiosity made him unbearably itchy. He knew that in the inner palace, curiosity was the most dangerous thing, but after only a moment’s consideration, he made his decision.

He would just look—if he didn’t speak, it should be fine.

Due to years of invisibly standing guard here, Sun Shuo was extremely familiar with the warm pavilion and even knew there was a gap if one crouched in a certain spot. His young master naturally wouldn’t assume such an undignified posture with his rear end sticking out, but for him, it was absolutely no problem. Finding that gap accurately in the darkness, Sun Shuo put his eye to it and immediately saw someone sitting behind a desk, looking through bamboo slips on the desk.

From his angle, he couldn’t see that person’s face, only the two blue silk cord double tails standing upright on the ostentatious military cap of King Wuling of Zhao.

It was indeed Master of Insignia and Seals Zhao Gao. But what was he doing here in the middle of the night? Sun Shuo instinctively felt this person must be up to something sneaky. Though he could see characters on the bamboo slips in Zhao Gao’s hands, he couldn’t see them clearly, only making out some strokes vaguely. He held his breath, watching Zhao Gao stare at the scroll in his hands. After hesitating for a moment, Zhao Gao took out a completely white brush from his chest, dipped it in some ink, then began writing directly on the bamboo slip.

Sun Shuo blinked, thinking he was seeing things. The warm pavilion wasn’t heavily guarded precisely because bamboo slips were difficult to modify and hard to secretly smuggle out of the imperial palace. But now he saw what Zhao Gao was doing—he was modifying bamboo slips! Once that brush touched down, he could see the original text on the bamboo slip gradually disappear, then new text was written in its place.

This… was he dreaming? Sun Shuo secretly pinched his thigh hard—it hurt. If he were dreaming, the pain should have woken him up.

Was this how Zhao Gao served as Master of Insignia and Seals? When he encountered disagreeable government orders, he could modify them at will? This was too outrageous!

Sun Shuo steadied himself, realizing Zhao Gao’s actions certainly weren’t new—that no one had discovered them until now must be because he only modified unimportant government orders or affairs submitted by lower officials, so they went unnoticed.

Sun Shuo knew the bamboo slips arranged on the left and right sides of the desk—the pile on the left was processed, while those on the right needed to be handled tomorrow. He watched Zhao Gao intently and found he indeed ignored the pile on the left, only rummaging through the pile on the right, quickly making modifications before deliberately placing one scroll on top, then leisurely locking the door and leaving.

Sun Shuo crouched in the grass in a daze for quite a while before remembering he had been out too long—long enough to make the first prince suspicious. He patted his robes and stood up, deciding to bury this matter in his heart. What was his status? No one would believe him if he spoke out, and moreover, he was certain there would be absolutely no trace of tampering on those bamboo slips. Without evidence, who would believe his empty words?

Breaking out in cold sweat, Sun Shuo opened the door to the warm pavilion and successfully found the “Official Appointment Laws” Hu Hai wanted in the third pile on the left just inside the entrance. Just as he was about to turn and leave, his gaze fell on that pile of bamboo slips on the right side of the desk.

Just one look… one look shouldn’t matter, right?

Sun Shuo quietly walked over and picked up that bamboo slip, seeing “Record of Books” written on top. This name was familiar—today when he came to stand guard outside the warm pavilion, he had occasionally heard someone mention it was a strange book obtained by Lu Sheng who had gone overseas to seek immortal medicine. This book needed approval from the Chief of the Nine Ministers, and Emperor Shihuang had scolded the Chief today for being too slow, not expecting it to be delivered overnight.

Sun Shuo carefully opened the bamboo slip and immediately saw five large, glaring characters that stunned him on the spot.

“The one who destroys Qin is Hu.”

All five characters were simple—he understood them at a glance. The annotation below was also simple and clear. The Chief had noted: “Suspect the young prince may harm the state. Advise moving him to separate palace quarters.”

Sun Shuo was greatly shocked, nearly unable to hold the bamboo slip in his hands. Only after it almost slipped did he snap back to awareness.

Though the annotation below tried hard to imitate the Chief’s handwriting, Zhao Gao had taught Hu Hai before, and Sun Shuo had seen several of his written scrolls. Though the final character “zhi” was extremely restrained, the last stroke still couldn’t help but curve upward slightly.

This annotation must have been altered by Zhao Gao!

Why would Zhao Gao want to harm his young master? Even if he didn’t want to teach lessons, there was no need for this!

Raging flames ignited in Sun Shuo’s heart. Hu Hai’s situation was already extremely awkward. If he were moved out of Xianyang Palace and lost Emperor Shihuang’s favor, those attendants who treated people according to their status would definitely not show Hu Hai a good face.

Thinking of his young master, whom he had raised with his own hands, falling from the clouds into the mud, Sun Shuo’s heart felt as if cut by knives. At this moment, he couldn’t care about his previous decision never to interfere. This concerned his young master—naturally he wouldn’t stand by and watch.

To avoid alerting the enemy, Sun Shuo placed the bamboo slip back exactly as it was on top of the right side of the desk, then quietly withdrew from the warm pavilion, locked it, and headed toward the first prince’s study.

Not long after he left, a tall figure appeared behind the warm pavilion, looking for a long time at a certain gap showing light, then bent down and felt around in the grass, pulling out a dark object.

“Twenty-sixth year of Emperor Qin Shihuang? Well, this is still a bronze weight with commemorative significance…” Emotionless words drifted quietly from the darkness, yet carried a hint of amusement.

Sun Shuo walked back listlessly, sporting two large dark circles under his eyes. Last night he had rushed to the first prince’s study to return the key, then told the first prince everything he had seen and heard in detail, begging him to find a solution. But no matter how much he wore out his lips talking, the first prince maintained a very troubled expression.

Indeed, such groundless words—if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, if someone else had told him, he would have dismissed it as nonsense too.

Finally, with no other option, he could only beg the first prince to put in a good word before Emperor Shihuang. From the look in that young High Minister’s eyes, he was obviously blaming him for secretly reading governmental documents. Sun Shuo knew that next time he wanted to borrow bamboo slips, it probably wouldn’t be so simple.

But first he had to ensure his young master wouldn’t be moved out of Xianyang Palace—otherwise, forget borrowing bamboo slips, whether he could maintain this life of fine clothes and good food was still unknown.

The first prince worked through the night while Sun Shuo knelt in his study all night, begging for his grace. Only when dawn broke and he had to serve Hu Hai’s morning routine did he reluctantly take his leave. When he entered his young master’s sleeping chamber and lifted the heavy curtains, he found his young master already fully dressed and standing by the window, expressionlessly looking at the garden outside.

Sun Shuo felt somewhat emotional. As he aged, Hu Hai no longer stayed in bed and no longer needed him to coax him like when he was small.

“Where did you go?” Before Sun Shuo could finish reminiscing about the past, Hu Hai’s ice-cold words struck him.

Sun Shuo was startled, then lowered his head to hide the smile at his lips. Was this a complaint about his absence all night? Sun Shuo immediately stopped feeling his knees hurt. He took out the scroll of “Official Appointment Laws” from his sleeve and held it out with both hands.

Hu Hai didn’t immediately take it as usual, but stared at him with cold eyes, making him feel as if thorns were pricking his back.

Was yesterday’s anger still not over? Sun Shuo was about to say some soft words when he heard a stern, harsh question from above: “You spent this entire night at Imperial Brother’s place?”

Sun Shuo nodded, just about to explain, but Hu Hai became even more furious at his admission.

“Sun Shuo! We’ve spent day and night together for over ten years, yet I didn’t know you were such a person with wolfish ambitions!” The more Hu Hai spoke, the angrier he became, randomly grabbing the bamboo slip in front of him and throwing it hard at Sun Shuo.