The moment Yun Xi arrived in the main hall, Tian Si hurried forward. “A—A’Ting, you’re going to Yangzhou? I—I’ll go with you.”

Yun Xi said, “I have urgent business to attend to in Yangzhou, and I don’t know when I’ll be back. Wang’an’s been swamped at the Ministry of Justice these past few days—stay in Jinling and take care of him.”

Tian Si shook his head. “N-no. A’Jiu’s not here, no one—no one to protect you.”

A’Jiu, for reasons unknown, had suddenly come to ask Yun Xi for leave, and now, seven or eight days later, there was still no sign of her.

For this trip to Yangzhou, investigating a matter of state importance, having no trusted aide at her side was indeed inconvenient.

As for Tian Si, he had gone with Yun Xi to Lingnan the previous year and earned merit alongside her. Upon returning, riding on Yun Xi’s coattails, he’d been granted the rank of commandant.

But his commandant’s title was different from the usual sort—it was essentially an honorary rank that came with a salary but no troops under his command; he simply needed to accompany Yun Xi on duty.

Seeing Yun Xi hesitate, Tian Si added, “Th-this is also Wang’an’s idea.”

Yun Xi thought it over, then nodded. “All right. You’ll come with me, then.”

She turned to Cheng Ye, standing nearby. “Does the Young Prince have some urgent matter?”

“Nothing urgent, actually,” Cheng Ye said with a smile. “A few days ago, when the Ministry of War’s storehouse was burglarized, His Majesty asked me to keep an eye on the matter as well. This morning I went to Xishan Camp and happened to run into Commandant Tian, who was hurrying to the residence—my horse is fast, so I gave him a ride, and thought I’d also ask General Yun about the bandit-hunting matter while I was at it.”

Yun Xi said apologetically, “How unfortunate—I’m in a rush to leave for Yangzhou right now and don’t have time to explain in detail. As for whether Registrar Li’s suicide is connected to the missing defense map, that still needs careful investigation. Once I’m back from Yangzhou, I’ll be sure to visit Prince Nan’an’s residence in person and share whatever I’ve learned with the Young Prince.”

Cheng Ye said, “No need. I’ve already requested leave from the court this morning—I’ll go to Yangzhou with General Yun.”

Yun Xi was taken aback. “The Young Prince is going to Yangzhou too? Will the Imperial Guard’s defense arrangements be all right without you?”

Cheng Ye smiled. “The Imperial Guard is still under General Guide and Master Wei’s oversight. A few days away won’t matter.”

A year earlier, after the fire at the Imperial City Bureau, rumors had circulated that Emperor Zhaoyuan had lost trust in Wei Jie. Sure enough, within three months, the emperor had reorganized the Imperial Guard, folding Xuan Zhi’s Palace Guard Command and Wei Jie’s Imperial City Bureau together into the Bureau of Military Affairs’ Capital Bureau, while also having Cheng Ye, who had been serving in the Capital Bureau, independently command a unit of troops folded into the Imperial Guard, designated the Yiwei Command.

From then on, the Palace Guard, the Imperial City Bureau, and the Yiwei Command kept one another in check—though all three fell nominally under the Bureau of Military Affairs’ Capital Bureau, none of them were actually subject to the Bureau’s direct authority.

Cheng Ye still held the fifth-rank title of General Ningyuan, but by now he was one of Emperor Zhaoyuan’s own trusted confidants. With Cheng Chang missing and no prince of the younger generation currently available, Cheng Ye, as heir to Prince Nan’an’s household, stood as the foremost rising figure at court.

Yun Xi nodded. “Very well. Since the Young Prince has already arranged everything, then let’s go to Yangzhou together.”

She bowed slightly. “Young Prince, please wait a moment. I’ll fetch my travel bag and be right back.”

Yun Xi traveled light—no more than two changes of clothes in all. She hurried back to her room, grabbed her bag, then took a bamboo scroll case from the very bottom of a cabinet and carefully strapped it to her back. She then went back to the main hall to gather Tian Si and Cheng Ye, and the three of them set out together.

Jinling was barely a hundred li from Yangzhou. The three of them rode hard, snatching only porridge and pastries along the way, and arrived within three hours.

Yun Xi’s Guangxi Bureau only handled bandit-catching; the actual case investigation fell mainly to the Ministry of Justice.

As it happened, after last spring’s imperial examination, Tian Ze had passed with distinction, placing second overall. He was supposed to enter the Hanlin Academy along with his fellow successful candidates and, by custom, serve several years in a provincial post before promotion. But given his outstanding talent, he’d caught the eye of the Minister of Justice, who petitioned Emperor Zhaoyuan directly to bring him into the Ministry of Justice with the sixth-rank post of Judicial Officer.

When the Ministry of War storehouse had first been burglarized, Tian Ze had been among the officials from the Ministry of Justice leading the investigation. When news of Registrar Li’s suicide reached Jinling the previous night, Tian Ze had immediately dispatched a clerk surnamed Cui to Yangzhou to look into the matter. Now that Yun Xi had arrived in Yangzhou, it was this Clerk Cui who came to receive her.

“General Mingwei, General Ningyuan, Commandant Tian.” Clerk Cui greeted Yun Xi at the city gate, leading a group forward to bow.

Yun Xi nodded.

She dismounted, looked around, and asked, “Where’s Prefect Liu of Yangzhou?”

A complicated look flashed across Clerk Cui’s eyes. “Prefect Liu will arrive shortly.”

But a young clerk standing behind Clerk Cui, unable to hold his tongue, blurted out to Yun Xi, “Prefect Liu? Prefect Liu has been crying in the prefectural office all afternoon. He’s cried so hard he can barely walk—someone has to hold him up.”

Hearing this, Yun Xi was startled at first, but not entirely surprised.

When news of Registrar Li’s suicide had reached Jinling the previous night, and it had been decided that Yun Xi would go to Yangzhou, officials from other bureaus, eager to curry favor with her, had made a point of gossiping to her about Prefect Liu of Yangzhou.

They said the man, surnamed Liu, given name Qin, was competent enough at his job, but loved nothing more than putting on a show of misery. Whenever anything happened, big or small, good or bad, he’d cry first and ask questions later, believing that as long as he cried, he could win others’ sympathy—and once they pitied him, he’d bear less of the blame.

The moment Yun Xi heard the name Liu Qin, it struck her as very familiar, though she couldn’t immediately place who it was. It wasn’t until she saw two clerks in the distance supporting a gaunt, bug-eyed official as he approached that it came back to her in a flash.

Wasn’t this the very same Prefect Liu who had helped her escort Cheng Chang back to the capital, after she’d found him in the fishing village on the eastern coast?

So it seemed—over a year without seeing him, and this prefect had been transferred to Yangzhou.

Though Yun Xi hadn’t remembered Prefect Liu, Prefect Liu, for his part, had never once forgotten her.

The very reason he’d been able to leave the poor eastern coast and transfer to this prosperous post in Yangzhou was, one could fairly say, entirely thanks to riding on Yun Xi’s coattails, having escorted Cheng Chang back to the capital alongside her that time.

And the man had something of a knack for maneuvering—he kept his ear to the ground for the slightest stir at court, so naturally Yun Xi’s rise from a seventh-rank commandant to a fourth-rank General Mingwei within a single year hadn’t escaped his notice.

Supported by the clerks, Prefect Liu approached and bowed deeply to Yun Xi. “This official pays respects to General Yun.”

Yun Xi nodded. “Prefect Liu. It’s been a while.”

Prefect Liu sighed. “Indeed. This official recalls that the last time we worked together, it was on the road escorting His Highness the Third Young Master back to the capital. Come to think of it, General, you were the one who found His Highness within this official’s own jurisdiction. And now, more than a year later, who would have thought His Highness would once again…” His voice caught, choking off as though he couldn’t continue, and he pulled a handkerchief from his sleeve, unfolding it to wipe at his eyes. “Who knows where His Highness might be now…”

Hearing Cheng Chang mentioned, a dull ache settled over Yun Xi’s heart—but for him to burst into tears this readily felt more than a little false.

Yun Xi knew this bout of crying from Prefect Liu had nothing to do with genuine grief for Cheng Chang.

He knew she and Cheng Chang had been close, and was hoping to use the Third Young Master’s name to draw closer to her, the better to smooth his own dealings later.

So she said, “Other matters can wait. Prefect Liu, please tell me in detail about Registrar Li’s suicide last night.”

Prefect Liu dabbed his tears dry with the handkerchief, made a gesture inviting the three of them forward, and led them toward the prefectural office, explaining as they walked, “The General speaks rightly. Registrar Li died yesterday around dusk, in the woodshed behind his own home. So far, we’ve only confirmed that it wasn’t suicide—he was strangled by someone else.”

Yun Xi asked, “Have you examined the marks on his neck?”

“Yes.” Prefect Liu nodded. “If it were self-inflicted hanging, the marks should only be on the front of the neck. But Registrar Li had purple bruising all the way around his neck, which points to strangulation by another party.”

Cheng Ye asked, “Is it confirmed to be strangulation? Could it have been poisoning instead?”

Prefect Liu shook his head. “Unlikely. Registrar Li’s face was cyanotic, his eyes bulging, his tongue protruding—all consistent with strangulation. But to be safe, this official has already summoned a coroner to examine the body.”

“So, aside from knowing Registrar Li was murdered, nothing else has been determined yet?” Cheng Ye asked.

At this, Prefect Liu’s mouth turned down, and he said mournfully, “After all, this is the body of a court official. Before summoning the coroner to examine him, we naturally had to see to comforting the grieving family first. The Young Prince may not realize—this official has been stationed at the prefectural office since last night, hasn’t slept a wink, investigating carefully every detail, and this is as far as we’ve gotten so far. This official—” he reached for his handkerchief again.

Cheng Ye said quickly, “Prefect Liu, please don’t misunderstand. I was simply asking out of curiosity, not meaning to place any blame.”

Prefect Liu nodded, tucking the handkerchief back into his sleeve, and continued, “As for the blood letter Registrar Li left behind, aside from claiming there was more to the theft of the Ministry of War’s defense map than met the eye, he provided no further detail. There is, however, one person who seems somewhat suspicious.”

“Who?”

“A man surnamed Feng, given name Tun. In his early years he was a vegetable delivery man. Just this past year or so, somehow, the man’s fortunes suddenly turned—everything he touches succeeds, and he’s already opened a silk shop. But he’s an honest sort—back when he was delivering vegetables to various households, he got along well with the stewards and masters of many families, including Registrar Li. Yesterday, hearing that Registrar Li had resigned and returned to Yangzhou, he went to pay his respects at the Li residence. Registrar Li was perfectly fine at the time—it was only after Feng Tun left that Registrar Li was found strangled.”

“Could this Feng Tun be the murderer?”

“Doesn’t seem likely,” Prefect Liu shook his head. “He has no motive, and besides, when he left the Li residence yesterday, Registrar Li was still in the main hall, alive and well. It was only later, when he went to the woodshed, that he was killed.”

As they talked, they had already reached the prefectural office. Prefect Liu said, “Although General Yun’s duty is bandit-hunting and there’s no strict need to investigate Registrar Li’s cause of death in detail, his death is, after all, connected to the theft of the Ministry of War’s defense map. This official has already sent for this Feng Tun—he’s currently waiting in the public hall. If General Yun has any questions, you might ask him. Perhaps something he says could shed light on the bandits as well.”

Yun Xi nodded. “Much obliged, Prefect.” She then entered the public hall, took the seat of honor, and addressed a square-faced, broad-nosed, portly man standing in the hall. “Are you Feng Tun?”

Feng Tun nodded. Not knowing Yun Xi’s official rank, he simply bowed and addressed her as “Your Honor.”

Yun Xi asked, “Why did you go to Registrar Li’s residence yesterday?”

Feng Tun said, “It’s like this—back when this humble one delivered vegetables to various households, times were very hard. It was thanks to Registrar Li introducing several deals to me that my situation improved. Later, when Registrar Li went to Jinling to become a great official, this humble one never forgot his kindness. This past year, my fortunes turned, and I opened a silk shop. Hearing Registrar Li had resigned and returned to Yangzhou, I picked out two bundles of our finest silk and brought them to the Li residence, which is how I came to see Registrar Li.”

His manner was honest, his words plain and believable.

From his manner, one could tell his household was now quite well-off, and yet he wore only an ordinary silk robe, nothing showy about him at all.

Yun Xi asked further, “How did your fortunes turn around?”

Hearing this, Feng Tun looked somewhat embarrassed, and after a long pause said, “I paid respects to the bodhisattva.”

Yun Xi was taken aback. “You paid respects to the bodhisattva?”

“This humble one wouldn’t dare deceive you, my lord—it truly was just paying respects to the bodhisattva. Somehow, ever since then, everything I’ve tried has succeeded.” Feng Tun added, “This humble one is a devout Buddhist.”

Yun Xi nodded, then asked further about what he’d witnessed at the Li residence that day.

Just as Prefect Liu had said, since it wasn’t her case to lead—her role being limited to bandit-catching—and she got nothing further of use from Feng Tun, she sent him home.

Dusk had already fallen, the clouds streaked with brilliant color. Once Feng Tun left the prefectural office, his pace grew faster and faster, until, rounding a corner into an alley, he practically broke into a run. Fortunately his home wasn’t far, and he soon reached his gate, knocking hard.

His younger son, Feng Guo, answered the door, and seeing his father’s flustered state, couldn’t help asking, “Father, did you tell the officials from the capital the truth?”

“No,” Feng Tun shook his head. “I wouldn’t dare. Something this big—what if we brought disaster on ourselves by speaking up?”

Feng Guo nodded in agreement, then suggested, “Father, why don’t we go ask the bodhisattva for guidance?”

At this, Feng Tun immediately asked, “Has the bodhisattva opened his eyes today?”

“He opened them this morning,” Feng Guo said. “That’s the third day in a row now the bodhisattva’s opened his eyes. He must be about to wake up soon.”

Feng Tun nodded. “Good, let’s go take a look.”

Now, a year ago, Feng Tun had been delivering vegetables to a distinguished household on the outskirts of Yangzhou when he was caught in a thunderstorm during the Waking of Insects solar term. Not only was his whole cart of wormwood greens ruined by the rain, but he himself took a fall and injured himself. Anxious about the loss, he happened upon an unconscious man lying by the roadside—a face like a being from the heavens—but no matter how he called out, the man wouldn’t wake.

Feng Tun hadn’t originally wanted to get involved, and had walked on a ways, but conscience got the better of him, and he turned back, loaded the man onto his cart, and brought him along to the distinguished household on the outskirts to apologize for the ruined delivery.

And it was from that very moment that Feng Tun’s luck began to turn.

The cart of wormwood greens he’d been delivering had been ruined by rain, and he should have owed compensation for it—but when he arrived at the household on the outskirts, the servants there said that their master had eaten some wormwood greens and broken out in hives all over—and it was only lucky that Feng Tun had arrived late, sparing their master’s life. Not only did they not make him pay, they gave him ten taels of silver as a reward.

With those ten taels in hand, some spark of inspiration struck Feng Tun, and he began doing business.

He started out selling vegetables, then moved on to trading in wine and liquor, and eventually opened a silk shop—whatever he tried, it seemed, turned a handsome profit.

Though Feng Tun was an honest man who dealt in good faith, he had a persistent feeling that his rise in fortune had everything to do with that man he’d picked up off the roadside.

And that man had a face of such heavenly beauty—what else could explain it, if not a bodhisattva descended to the mortal world?

Once Feng Tun’s fortunes had risen, he built himself a proper residence, and the very first thing he did was install the “bodhisattva” to sleep in the main room of the back courtyard. Every day without fail he burned incense and bowed before him, and once every ten days he’d bathe, change into fresh clothes, and lead the whole household to kneel before the bodhisattva, chanting sutras for four hours straight.

And the bodhisattva, naturally, hadn’t let him down—ever since Feng Tun opened his silk shop, business had grown more prosperous by the day, until now demand outstripped supply, and it was time to open a second branch on the west side of the city.

Feng Tun made his way to the main courtyard, straightened his robes by the pond’s reflection to make sure he looked presentable, then walked forward properly and pushed open the door to the main room.

The moment he crossed the threshold, he got a fright—the bodhisattva, who should have been lying on the couch, had somehow woken and sat up.

It was just at dusk, and only a single dim candle lit the room. The bodhisattva’s gaze looked somewhat dazed, his brows and eyes as though washed in ink, seated there in plain white robes—the whole figure looked as if draped in moonlight, cool and radiant.

Feng Tun hurried forward, offering a light, supportive hand, and asked, “Bodhisattva, have you awoken?”

Cheng Chang had regained consciousness a day earlier, and had opened his eyes a few times since, but had had absolutely no strength anywhere in his body. Today he had finally managed to sit up, and hadn’t yet fully gathered his wits. Seeing an unfamiliar room and an unfamiliar person before him, he couldn’t help asking, “Where… is this?”

“This is this humble one’s own household,” Feng Tun said.

Seeing Cheng Chang still looked lost, he seemed to remember something, stepped back, folded his hands into his sleeves, and bowed deeply and respectfully. “In answer to the bodhisattva’s question, this humble one’s surname is Feng, given name Tun, a native of Yangzhou. Right now it is the tenth year of Zhaoyuan’s reign in the mortal realm of Da Sui. This place is the Feng residence, on Dangao Lane, in Yangzhou Prefecture, in the mortal world.”

Cheng Chang nodded.

So it seemed—he was back in Da Sui.

Feng Tun, seeing Cheng Chang fall silent, thought for a moment, then asked earnestly, “Bodhisattva, do you have some business that requires a trip to Jinling? Do you wish to learn about the current state of affairs at court?”

Cheng Chang, seeing the man looked as though he already understood everything, asked, “Do you have some way to help me find out?”

“No,” Feng Tun said. “But you’re a bodhisattva—all you need do is count on your fingers, and the affairs of the world will surely reveal themselves in your heart.”

He then gazed at him earnestly, looking as though he very much hoped to witness such a feat.

Cheng Chang: “…”

Never mind, let it be.

Cheng Chang looked at Feng Tun and explained, “I’m currently trapped within a mortal body of flesh and blood. My powers are limited. I can’t divine anything.”

“Ah.” Feng Tun seemed to understand at once. “Of course, an immortal walking the mortal realm cannot use their heavenly form—they must first take on a mortal shape. Of course, of course, the bodhisattva speaks truly. This humble one nearly forgot.”

He then recalled that he’d just asked the bodhisattva for guidance. No wonder the bodhisattva hadn’t known what to offer guidance on—he’d taken on a mortal body and lost his powers.

Thinking of this, he couldn’t help but ask, “Since the bodhisattva is currently in mortal form, having just awoken from a great slumber, are you hungry?”

Without waiting for Cheng Chang’s answer, he immediately went to the door, called for a servant, gave some instructions, then came back in and said respectfully, “This humble one has already ordered the servants to prepare a meal.”

With that, he personally fetched water for Cheng Chang and attended to his washing, then led him to the dining hall, gesturing at the table. “Bodhisattva, please, eat.”

Cheng Chang looked over the table—an entire spread of green vegetables, all vegetarian.

Fortunately he wasn’t picky about food, seeking only peace and quiet. Feng Tun had the servants withdraw, and the meal, all things considered, passed comfortably enough.