Watching Prefect Liu weep on and on without end, Yun Xi turned to the registrar beside her and asked, “Has the testimony for Officer Li’s hanging case been organized yet?”
“Reporting to the general, yes, it has,” Registrar Cui said.
He was one of Tian Ze’s subordinates and knew his master was on good terms with General Yun. He added, “Is the general planning to prepare the bandit-pursuit document? This humble official could handle that on your behalf.”
The so-called bandit-pursuit document was simply a written report on the matters relating to the manhunt, submitted to the court—usually drafted by military officers themselves.
But since most military officers weren’t particularly skilled with writing, that’s why Registrar Cui offered to help.
Yun Xi thought it over. “No need. Just bring me the testimony for reference—I happen to want to organize the clues myself.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Shortly after, an official came to consult Prefect Liu about arrangements for tomorrow’s mountain god ceremony. Prefect Liu, still sniffling, went over the details. Yun Xi listened for a while, decided there was nothing more for her to do here, and said to A’Jiu, “Come with me,” then headed toward the back courtyard of the prefectural office.
As a woman, Yun Xi had been given a separate courtyard to stay in at the office. She walked the whole way without a word, straight into the courtyard, and only once inside did she say, “Close the door.”
A’Jiu said “Oh,” and shut the door behind her. She’d barely turned back around when Yun Xi’s palm suddenly shot toward her face.
A’Jiu dodged instinctively, only to realize that Yun Xi’s strike had been a feint—she withdrew her hand a beat earlier and reached instead for A’Jiu’s waist pouch.
A’Jiu, caught off guard, barely managed to grab the drawstring of her pouch in time, but Yun Xi still managed to pull out a small wooden dagger from inside.
“Give it back!” A’Jiu cried out urgently at the sight.
Yun Xi hadn’t expected to find such a thing in A’Jiu’s pouch. She tucked it into her own robe and reached again for A’Jiu’s sleeve pocket.
Unable to dodge in time and afraid Yun Xi might accidentally damage her dagger, A’Jiu abandoned any thought of fighting back. Gritting her teeth, she exposed her back deliberately, pushed off a nearby water vat for leverage, and leapt straight up onto the roof.
Yun Xi hadn’t actually wanted to hurt her, and seeing the opening, pulled back the palm strike she’d already launched. But she wasn’t about to just let her go, either—she tapped her toes against the water vat and followed her up onto the roof.
“Wait, wait,” A’Jiu backed away several steps hastily. “Whatever you want to say, let’s talk about it properly!”
Yun Xi held out her hand. “Hand it over.”
A’Jiu blinked. “Huh? What? Hand over what?”
“What do you think I mean?” Yun Xi took a breath. “Officer Li’s blood letter.”
“Are you sure you’ve got this right?” A’Jiu stared blankly for a long moment. “What blood letter? I don’t know anything about that.”
Yun Xi said, “I know full well how skilled Constable Wang and his men are, and I also know exactly how many people in Yangzhou could outrun and outmaneuver all of them at once. If it had been an ordinary thief with such skill, they’d have fled the instant they took the blood letter—otherwise, once the young prince mobilized the guards for a citywide search, escape would have been nearly impossible. But this morning, after stealing the blood letter, why didn’t she rush to flee? Why did she instead lead Constable Wang and his men in circles near the office?
“There’s only one explanation. She wasn’t familiar with Yangzhou—if she’d run far, she wouldn’t have known which way to go. Since this thief never strayed far, then by the time Constable Wang returned to the office, she should still have been somewhere near the office grounds. So why did she disappear?
“Because she used a disguise.
“She went somewhere unseen, changed out of the black clothes she’d worn to commit the theft, revealing a lieutenant’s uniform underneath, then walked openly up to the office gate, claiming to be one of my subordinates—because she figured that once Prefect Liu learned she was one of my people, he’d never think to suspect her.”
Yun Xi looked at A’Jiu. “Do I need to spell it out any more clearly than that?”
Having weathered more than a year on the battlefield, Yun Xi had grown far more composed and sharp-witted than before.
A’Jiu, left speechless by this methodical explanation, wanted to argue back but had no idea where to even begin.
After a long moment, she let out a deep sigh and crouched down. “Don’t look to me for it. I already gave the blood letter to someone else.”
“Gave it to whom?” Yun Xi asked.
She continued, urging her, “A’Jiu, this theft at the Sui Palace is a major case, and the blood letter Officer Li left behind before his death is closely tied to it. You’re military yourself—if it comes out that you stole this letter while on duty, this is no small matter.”
“I know,” A’Jiu said, turning her head away. “Look, just don’t worry about it. If trouble comes, I definitely won’t drag you into it.”
Yun Xi had nothing to say to that for a moment. Did she really think Yun Xi’s concern was about being implicated herself?
“Did you give the blood letter to those two friends of yours?” Yun Xi asked.
A’Jiu startled. “How did you know?”
How did she know?
A’Jiu spent all her days either following Yun Xi around or dealing with those two mysterious friends of hers who never showed their faces.
Yun Xi didn’t bother explaining further, and asked instead, “Does the theft at the Ministry of War’s storeroom have anything to do with that friend of yours too?”
“No, no, nothing to do with him,” A’Jiu said.
She explained, “That friend of mine, he just has some connection to Officer Li, so he wanted to take a look at the blood letter. Once he’s done, I’ll have him return it to you right away!”
Yun Xi asked, “Are you absolutely sure it’s not connected?”
“Absolutely not,” A’Jiu said. “Think about it—to steal something from the Ministry of War’s storeroom, you’d have to be extremely familiar with the palace layout, right? Didn’t I tell you a year or two ago that my friend grew up out in the northern frontier? He’d have to think twice just to figure out which way the Sui Palace’s main gate opens. How could he possibly sneak inside to steal anything?”
That much, at least, was true.
The Sui Palace was heavily guarded; stealing a defense map from within would require someone extremely familiar with the palace’s inner workings. Never mind A’Jiu’s friend who’d grown up on the frontier—even Yun Xi herself, or generals like Yun Shuguang or even Yun Luo, couldn’t move freely within the Sui Palace at will.
That was why, even now, with the defense map still missing, the Ministry of Justice remained focused on investigating the guards who’d been on duty that night, suspecting an inside job.
Still, Yun Xi wasn’t entirely convinced by A’Jiu’s account. She simply asked, “When will you give me the blood letter?”
“In the next few days, I suppose. I’ll have to wait for my friend to finish looking it over first,” A’Jiu said, then added, “Oh, hey, give me my dagger back first.”
At this, Yun Xi pulled out the small wooden dagger she’d taken earlier. “This?”
“Yeah, that.” A’Jiu nodded hastily.
Yun Xi glanced at it—the dagger was old and small, and for some reason, it seemed oddly familiar.
Before she could look more closely, A’Jiu snatched it back and tucked it carefully away in her waist pouch.
Yun Xi didn’t think much of it. A’Jiu was a stubborn one—once she’d made up her mind about something, not even a team of oxen could drag her back. The truth behind her stealing the blood letter might not be exactly as she’d claimed, so Yun Xi resolved to find some way to uncover the real story.
Fortunately, quite a few people had already seen Officer Li’s blood letter—Registrar Cui at the Ministry of Justice could even recite its contents from memory. The loss of the letter itself was neither a trivial matter nor an especially grave one; she could afford to wait a few days, and once the letter was recovered, submit it to the court then.
Yun Xi thought that if the court wanted to assign blame, she, as A’Jiu’s commanding officer, would simply take the responsibility herself.
With that thought, she said simply, “Come with me back to Jinling tomorrow,” and went into the study to draft the bandit-pursuit document.
By afternoon, Registrar Cui brought over the organized testimony. Yun Xi cross-referenced the clues in the testimony, revised her draft, and laid out a formal memorial to transcribe it.
Watching her work, Registrar Cui remarked, “The general is very thorough.”
Yun Xi smiled slightly. “Since this has to be submitted before the throne, and I’m not skilled with writing, I have no choice but to put in extra effort.”
As she spoke, something occurred to her, and she asked, “How is Lord Liu doing?”
Registrar Cui said, “Still crying in the hall.”
“Still crying?” Yun Xi was rather surprised. “Didn’t he finish crying this morning already?”
“He did. But the theft of the blood letter still has to be reported to the court. This morning, an office clerk sent an urgent dispatch to Jinling by fast horse, and a reply came back this afternoon.”
“What did it say?”
“Nothing much, only that an imperial envoy would arrive in Yangzhou first thing tomorrow morning. And this particular envoy happens to be the Vice Censor-in-Chief, Lord Chai Ping.”
Yun Xi was stunned. “Chai Ping?”
“Yes,” Registrar Cui said. “That’s why Lord Liu panicked and started crying again.”
Yun Xi had always had an inexplicable feeling about Chai Ping.
Something like an instinctive aversion.
In truth, she’d had little direct dealing with him—she’d only heard that when Cheng Chang went missing, Chai Ping had led men to the Imperial City Guard looking for him.
“The third young master hadn’t been well for a while before that, and had even fainted once. On the day he went to the Imperial City Guard, Lord Chai happened to have some business there too. It was fortunate Lord Chai was present, or the fire at the Imperial City Guard might not have been discovered in time.”
“Lord Chai led men to try to save the third young master, and quite a few of his own men died in the fire. Unfortunately, they still couldn’t save the third young master in the end, and Lord Chai blamed himself afterward.”
“Oh, and Lord Chai still has a scar on his right arm—apparently burned trying to save the third young master, and it’s never fully healed. On damp, rainy days, it still aches and itches sometimes.”
That was what people had told her after she’d returned to Jinling.
By rights, she should trust Chai Ping, feel grateful toward him.
Yet for some reason, she’d always sensed something off about the whole affair back then—wanted to investigate, but hadn’t known where to even begin.
She’d returned too late; even the charred, blackened offices of the Imperial City Guard had already been torn down, with the Ministry of Works sending craftsmen to rebuild new quarters. When she’d wanted to see the place where he’d last vanished, there’d been nothing left to find.
“Actually, this humble official can understand why Lord Liu is so panicked. This past year, Lord Chai has not only risen to Vice Censor-in-Chief, but has also earned Prince Ling’s particular favor. This matter of Officer Li’s death isn’t actually all that serious in itself—originally the Ministry of Justice planned to send Lord Tian here. But now that the blood letter’s gone missing, Lord Chai is personally taking charge of the matter, which suggests Prince Ling learned of it and grew angry,” Registrar Cui said.
Yun Xi made a small sound of acknowledgment.
Not wanting to dwell on Chai Ping any further, she paused, then asked, “Has Lord Liu finished arranging tomorrow’s mountain god ceremony for the Awakening of Insects?”
“All arranged,” Registrar Cui said. “As it happens, this year the Awakening of Insects falls on the twelfth day of the second month—Flower Dawn Festival. Tomorrow, it’s likely the entire city of Yangzhou, inside and out, will be full of people out enjoying the spring.”
Yun Xi paused. “Flower Dawn Festival?”
Ever since Cheng Chang’s disappearance, she’d been living in a kind of daze, barely keeping track of the days aside from her search for him. She hadn’t realized time had passed so quickly—already, in the blink of an eye, another year had turned, and it was Flower Dawn Festival again.
“Oh, and Lord Liu heard you’d be returning to Jinling tomorrow, General, so he sent me to ask when you plan to leave.”
“Not decided yet,” Yun Xi said. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, it’s like this—tomorrow’s Awakening of Insects coincides with the Flower Dawn Festival, so the city will surely be packed with crowds. On top of that, Lord Chai is arriving in Yangzhou, and with the recent thefts in the city, security at the gates has been tightened considerably—there’ll certainly be long lines to enter or exit. So Lord Liu wanted to ask how you plan to travel, so he could make arrangements in advance.”
Yun Xi said, “Tell Lord Liu there’s no need to trouble himself. Tomorrow only A’Jiu and I will be leaving, and we’ll make our own arrangements when the time comes.”