Back in the small courtyard, Yun Xi asked, “A’Jiu, these past two days while I was away, did you keep an eye on my sister-in-law? Has she… run into any trouble?”
When Luo Shu had come to the manor and revealed the truth behind the late Crown Prince’s death, Fang Furan had been just outside the main hall and had overheard it all. These past two days, while Yun Xi accompanied Cheng Chang to Mingyin Temple to investigate, she hadn’t shown it on her face, but a knot had remained lodged in her heart the whole time.
She was afraid that Fang Furan really was the “Noble One’s” informant, and might send word to him.
A’Jiu said, “Don’t worry, your sister-in-law is doing fine. No one’s given her any trouble.”
“Really?”
“Really.” A’Jiu nodded. “I’ve been keeping close watch on her these past two days. Yesterday when she went to the apothecary, I not only stood guard outside in case something happened to her inside the shop, I even climbed up onto the roof of the back room to keep an eye on the herb-woman giving her acupuncture, and followed her carriage all the way home afterward.”
Yun Xi knew A’Jiu well—though she could be careless in manner, she was thoroughly reliable when it came to actually getting things done, rarely making mistakes.
According to the final clue Mao Jiu had left behind, the “Noble One” was Prince Yun. Back when the Marquis Zhongyong had gone to campaign in the northern frontier, Prince Yun had secretly diverted the Marquis’s stockpiled grain. When the late Crown Prince learned of this and meant to expose him, Prince Yun, in a moment of desperation, had poisoned him, causing his sudden death from what appeared to be illness.
If her sister-in-law really were Prince Yun’s informant, then upon hearing that the Third Young Master intended to go to Mingyin Temple to find the witnesses who could prove Prince Yun had poisoned the Crown Prince, there was no way she wouldn’t have told him.
And yet Cheng Chang’s trip to Mingyin Temple had gone smoothly the whole way, without encountering any danger.
Even setting that aside—even if her sister-in-law hadn’t managed to get word to Prince Yun before Cheng Chang left for the temple, Cheng Chang had been away from the capital for a full day. There was no way her sister-in-law could have gone this long without informing Prince Yun, giving him time to prepare a response.
But judging from Prince Yun’s reaction at court today, he had clearly known nothing about Cheng Chang’s trip to Mingyin Temple.
Which meant the informant within the Marquis Zhongyong’s manor wasn’t her sister-in-law after all.
Realizing this, Yun Xi let out a long breath of relief.
Prince Yun was now under thorough investigation, her father’s wrongful conviction had been cleared, and her brother would soon inherit the title of Marquis Zhongyong. As for the “Noble One’s” case, all that remained was for the Three Judicial Offices to review it.
Even so, she couldn’t fully let her guard down—after all, if the informant wasn’t her sister-in-law, it could still be someone else within the manor.
Zangzang, tired from playing, went to drink from the small pond, then trotted over and lay down beside Yun Xi. She reached down and stroked his head.
A’Jiu sat down beside her too, studying her. “You finally got promoted to general—such a big happy occasion—so why don’t you look pleased at all?”
Yun Xi didn’t answer right away.
Being promoted to general, finally able to lead troops into battle, was genuinely something to be happy about. But beneath that happiness lurked a certain hollow feeling.
At court today, Emperor Zhaoyuan had announced that in February, he would grant Cheng Chang a marriage by imperial decree.
Yun Xi said, “A’Jiu, I feel a little sad.”
“Sad about what?” A’Jiu asked.
Yun Xi didn’t answer.
Cheng Chang had never once spoken his feelings plainly to her.
He had simply reached up into the clear night sky and plucked down a sliver of moonlight to give her.
Within her heart, the high towers had already collapsed, the blue tiles lying in ruins, and yet he had handed her a piece of glazed glass, offering to rebuild a vermilion pavilion in the depths of her heart.
But before the pavilion could be finished, the moon had already gone dark.
He had said before the throne that he was unwilling—but with the emperor’s authority looming above, with the Son of Heaven’s word being absolute, how could his own marriage possibly be settled by a mere two words of refusal?
She didn’t know what to do.
A’Jiu studied Yun Xi’s expression and asked, “Are you thinking about the Marquis? About that Yun Luo?”
She reached out and patted Yun Xi. “Don’t worry—that Yun Luo, wherever he is, would be so proud of how far you’ve come. This time, going down to Lingnan to put down the rebellion, just show them what you’re made of!”
Having said this, she glanced at Yun Xi again, saw she still didn’t look particularly cheered, and suggested, “Want me to go with you to Tongzi Lane, take a walk around?”
Yun Xi thought about it and decided some fresh air might do her good. She nodded. “All right.”
She had the day off, but for the following several days, she needed to command troops at Xishan Camp. The unrest in Lingnan was a matter of bandit uprisings, with some complicated underlying causes. The Ministry of War had reorganized troops from several garrisons, assigning eighteen thousand men under Yun Xi’s command. During the day she trained the troops, and in the evening she had to discuss the plan for putting down the rebellion with several of her lieutenant generals. By the time the plan had been roughly drafted, and Yun Xi finally found a moment of leisure amid all the busyness, it was already the beginning of the second month.
Early one morning, word came from the Office of Transmission that the Marquis Zhongyong’s former troops would arrive in five days. Yun Xi returned from Xishan Camp to the manor, intending first to tell the household the news, then head to the Ministry of Justice to ask how her father’s case was progressing.
She had only just arrived at the manor and hadn’t even had a chance to drink a cup of hot tea when Zhao Wu came to announce, “Young Miss, Young Master Tian is here.”
Tian Ze entered the main hall and bowed to Yun Xi. “General Yun.” Then he added, “I heard from Brother Jinghuan this morning that you’d returned, General, and took the liberty of calling on you. I hope I’m not intruding.”
Hearing the name “Jinghuan,” Yun Xi paused for a moment before recalling that this was Cheng Ye’s courtesy name.
Before the New Year holidays had even ended this year, a plague had broken out in a prefecture near the capital, and Cheng Ye had led troops there to help contain it, only returning these past couple of days.
Yun Xi said, “You’re not intruding at all.” Then she asked, “How is Tian Si’s injury healing?”
After the New Year, Tian Si had left the Jingzhao Prefecture along with Ke Yong to join Yun Xi’s command. His foundation was weak, and his martial skills were rather ordinary. During a recent training session, he had accidentally strained his arm and had to return home to recover.
“Much better now, thank you for your concern, General,” Tian Ze said.
He hesitated, pausing for a moment before continuing. “Actually, the reason I’ve come today is that there’s something I wanted to tell you, General.”
He said, “It’s about my marriage.”
Yun Xi paused for a moment. With the spring examinations approaching in the third month, she hadn’t wanted to distract Tian Ze, and had only brought up the matter of A’Ling and Tian Ze’s marriage to Tian Si as a way of gauging his opinion. Since Tian Si had said he wanted to wait and see Tian Ze’s own wishes first, she’d assumed this matter would naturally have to wait until after the examination results were announced. She hadn’t expected Tian Ze to come in person over this.
Yun Xi said, “There’s no rush on this. Your examinations should take priority above all else. Once the palace examination is over and you’ve had time to think it through carefully, there’ll be plenty of time to decide.”
But Tian Ze said, “General, you’re setting out for the front in mid-February. Lingnan is far away—by the time you return, it may well be more than half a year from now. I’d rather give you an answer sooner, so as not to needlessly delay anyone else.”
“A’Ling is a good girl, and having grown up in the Marquis Zhongyong’s manor, she must surely be as loyal and virtuous as you are, General. But…” he paused. “It wouldn’t be right for me to marry her.”
He spoke with such certainty that Yun Xi couldn’t help but be taken aback.
“It’s not that there’s anything wrong with A’Ling—she’s wonderful. It’s just that I hadn’t considered this at all, and besides… I’ll likely be leaving Jinling with my brother in the future.”
Yun Xi was rather puzzled.
Tian Ze and Tian Si weren’t originally from Jinling. They had come here through great hardship and only after much struggle had managed to gain a foothold.
Now that Tian Ze had already earned the rank of provincial graduate, with his considerable talent, he might well place among the successful candidates in this year’s spring examination. Having succeeded, a bright and promising path would lie open before him—why would he want to give that up?
Having traveled so far, having spent over a decade studying diligently for the imperial examinations, why would he choose to leave now, of all times?
But this was, after all, a private matter, and Yun Xi didn’t feel it was her place to press further.
Or perhaps, she thought, what Tian Ze meant by “leaving” simply referred to taking up a post in some provincial prefecture, and this was merely a pretext for declining the match.
Yun Xi said, “Since you already have your own plans, of course you should follow your own wishes.”
Tian Ze still looked troubled. “By rights, the Marquis Zhongyong’s household has shown great kindness to my brother and me. If you had said the word, General, I truly shouldn’t refuse—I’m willing to help A’Ling look after Uncle Bai. It’s just…”
Before he could finish, Yun Xi shook her head. “You and Tian Si always say the manor has shown you kindness, but honestly, these past years, with the manor in such decline, it’s really you two who have helped us far more.”
Back when Tian Ze had first come to work as a clerk at the Jingzhao Prefecture, she’d simply happened to be short-staffed, and he’d ended up working under her—there was no reason for him to feel so indebted over it.
As for Tian Ze, the books sitting in the manor’s library were doing nothing but gathering dust anyway—aside from Fang Furan, almost no one ever opened them—so lending them to Tian Ze had cost her nothing at all.
If anything, over these years, with the household reduced to just the old, the weak, and the infirm, it had been the Tian brothers who came by every few days to help look after them, at real cost to their own time and effort.
In the years since the disaster on the Tage Grasslands, with Yun Shuguang and Yun Luo’s names still under a cloud, the Marquis Zhongyong’s household had had almost no connections left in Jinling society—only the two Tian brothers as friends.
As for the Third Young Master and the Young Prince, that had only come about after last year’s Flower Festival.
Tian Ze said, “You give us too much credit, General. My brother and I have only done what little we could for the manor—nowhere near as much as what you’ve done, General.”
Having said this, he rose to take his leave, but just as he reached the doorway of the main hall, he suddenly stopped in his tracks.
A’Ling was standing outside the door, staring at him blankly.
Having heard that Tian Ze had come to the manor, she’d hoped for a glimpse of him—he had been staying home studying lately, and she hadn’t seen him in a long while.
At the time, Yun Xi had been searching around for a teacup to pour tea for Tian Ze and hadn’t noticed her arrival, so A’Ling had ended up standing outside the main hall, overhearing their entire conversation.
Seeing Tian Ze come out, A’Ling grew flustered and stammered, “I—I was just…”
She had meant to pretend she’d heard nothing at all.
But before she could finish, the sorrow welling up in her chest became too much to hold back, her nose stinging sharply with unshed tears. She quickly turned her face away and hurried back toward the rear courtyard.
Tian Ze looked deeply guilty and said to Yun Xi, “General, I…”
Yun Xi said, “I’ll go talk to her. Don’t let it weigh on you—focus on your examinations, that’s what matters most.”
With that, she personally saw Tian Ze out of the manor.
Before Yun Xi even reached the rear courtyard, she spotted Fang Furan and A’Ling together in the covered corridor. A’Ling sat on a corridor bench, her eyes red-rimmed as though she’d just been crying, while Fang Furan spoke to her gently, trying to comfort her.
Seeing Yun Xi approach, A’Ling called out in a voice barely above a whisper, “Young Miss.”
Knowing how hard Yun Xi had been working lately, and that she’d only just managed to make it back to the manor that morning, A’Ling didn’t want her to worry, and said softly, “Don’t worry, Young Miss, I’m fine now.”
Fang Furan added, “Don’t you still need to go to the Ministry of Justice today? Better to go early and come back early. I’ll stay here with A’Ling.”
Yun Xi thought it over—she herself was too blunt by nature, not particularly good at comforting people, while her sister-in-law was gentle and warm, better suited to keeping A’Ling company. She nodded. “All right.”
…
Given that the Marquis Zhongyong’s case involved an imperial prince, the Three Judicial Offices, once they’d taken it up, dared not treat it carelessly. Not only did they pull the case files from six years ago and reorganize them one by one, but following the approach Cheng Chang had proposed before the throne, they also sent urgent dispatches—at eight hundred li per day—to the prefectures from the northwest all the way to Huaibei, instructing local officials to send men to question witnesses along the post-road stations. Beyond that, they ordered the Ministry of Finance to audit ten years’ worth of local government grain records and stockpile figures for comparison.
After more than ten days of this effort, by the beginning of the second month, things had finally begun to take shape.
That day, having finished reading through the case files in his hands, Cheng Chang meant to go to the Ministry of Justice to collect the account records sent over from the Ministry of Finance. Just as he stood up, his vision suddenly darkened, and he swayed where he stood before steadying himself.
The clerk nearby, seeing this, hurriedly poured a cup of tea and offered it to him, saying, “Your Highness has been working yourself too hard lately—please take care of your health.”
Cheng Chang took the tea and drank half the cup. “I’m fine.”
Yun Xi was set to leave for the front in mid-February, and he wanted to have the Marquis Zhongyong’s case fully settled before she left. He’d been working himself rather hard lately, with frequent bouts of dizziness, but he assumed it was nothing serious.
Cheng Chang steadied himself where he stood, gathered up the files on his desk, and started walking out of the hall.
But he’d barely taken a few steps when his legs suddenly felt weak beneath him. At first he didn’t think much of it, but the further he walked, the more unsteady his steps became, until it felt as though he were walking on clouds.
Sensing something was wrong, Cheng Chang reached out to steady himself, and had just managed to grab the doorpost of the hall when his heart suddenly gave a violent lurch.
It felt as though someone were striking his heart with a drumstick, a sharp, violent pain suddenly flaring in his chest.
The pain was all too familiar.
Cheng Chang clutched at his chest and looked around, and it seemed as though a mist were rising up all around him, obscuring his vision, vast and hazy, leaving him unable to see anything at all.
Then the mist seemed to turn to water, pouring into his eyes and ears in endless torrents, as if trying to drown him in an ocean.
The clerk beside him, seeing this, rushed forward to support him, calling out, “Your Highness? Your Highness!”
But his voice, too, seemed to come from underwater, both muffled and impossibly distant.
In his daze, he seemed to hear other voices as well.
“What happened to him?”
“Driving in a typhoon, went off a hillside. Sounds like he’s also got a serious heart condition too—tsk, that’s rough.”
“How’d anyone even find him, driving into the mountains in weather like that?”
“What do you mean find him? His girlfriend knew where he’d gone, drove into the mountains after him, carried him out to the road, and called it in.”
“He’s got a girlfriend? Well, looking like that, of course he’s already taken.”
“Never mind that—the director just got off the call with Shanghai. Might need to prep for surgery.”
…
“Your Highness! Your Highness! Third Young Master!”
Waves of sound surged and receded around him, chaotic voices drifting near and far, growing more alarming the more he listened.
His mind went blank, the hand pressed to his chest clenching tighter and tighter, nearly digging bruises into his skin through the fabric of his robe.
He didn’t know what to do—all he could do was wait, slowly, where he stood.
Not until the voices around him gradually faded did his vision clear, the scene around him slowly coming back into focus.
It was early spring, and the noon sun blazed fiercely, shining just outside the hall’s threshold, stopping short an inch before him, leaving him wrapped in shadow, as though he were some spirit unable to bear the light of day.
Cheng Chang felt cold—he couldn’t tell whether it was his body that was cold, or his heart—so much so that it took nearly all his strength to keep himself from trembling.
The clerk beside him, seeing his gaze had cleared somewhat, asked worriedly, “Your Highness, are you all right?”
Cheng Chang, bracing himself against the corridor pillar, half-knelt where he was for a long while without answering. Only once the chill around him had gradually receded, the pain in his chest faded, and his heartbeat settled back into its normal rhythm did he finally answer hoarsely, “I’m fine.”
He raised his sleeve to wipe away the fine beads of sweat on his forehead, then, with effort, rose to his feet and walked back to his desk, sitting down slowly. He picked up the half-finished cup of tea left there and drained it in one go.
The tea had already gone cold.
That cool sensation traveled down his throat, spreading through his veins and into his heart, helping him settle.
Cheng Chang sat there in silence, his mind seeming to turn everything over at once, and yet seeming to think of nothing at all.
His gaze settled on the case files on his desk—the Marquis Zhongyong’s case. Yun Xi would be leaving for the front in February; he wanted to have this case fully resolved before she left, so she could go with peace of mind.
Cheng Chang slowly let out a breath, rose to his feet once more, and said to the clerk, “Let’s go. To the Ministry of Justice.”