A rare day of good sunshine—much of the accumulated snow on the roof tiles had melted from the sun’s warmth. Snowmelt dripped steadily from the eaves corridor, quite reminiscent of the leisure of listening to rain.

Xu Hexue sat by the window, one hand braced on his knee, silently looking at the books on the desk. Before handing Du Cong’s private account ledger to Jiang Xianming, he had already prepared this copy.

The silver and money transactions recorded within spanned a full fifteen years. Among those unnamed persons, he had added several clear threads of connection.

The tea water on the stove boiled, making a humming sound. Xu Hexue’s fingers were cold enough to dissipate the heat of the clay pot. Without a trace of expression on his face, he filled a bowl of tea and took a sip.

Still tasteless.

He could only rely on his not-yet-vanished sense of smell to detect its faint fragrance.

Raising his head, that tasseled curtain concealed the form of the woman sleeping peacefully on the bed. She was actually someone accustomed to rising early, but today was an exception.

Only because after leaving the Grand Commandant’s residence last night, she had impulsively decided to pull him along to investigate Jiang Xianming’s residence, and had consequently caught a cold.

Jiang Xianming was a famously upright official. His residence was also old and humble, not even as spacious and comfortable as Du Cong’s fifth-rank official residence.

“Can you take me with you?”

Ni Su was still worried this distance would harm him. She pointed to the ridge line on the study’s roof tiles: “I can wait for you there.”

Xu Hexue nodded. With one arm around her waist, he stepped on treetops to borrow momentum and leaped, landing with extremely light steps on the rooftop opposite.

At this late hour of night, Jiang Xianming was still working at his desk in the study. Xu Hexue lightly glanced at the green tiles beneath his feet. He helped Ni Su steady herself and had her stand firm before bending down to very gently lift a piece of green tile.

In the study, Jiang Xianming was speaking with Old Neizhi, who had followed him for many years.

“My lord, we don’t even know who threw this account ledger to you. It’s clearly a hot potato. These past months, you’ve been investigating here and there because of this thing. That day, you were nearly intercepted at the entertainment district…” Old Neizhi earnestly advised. “In this old slave’s view, they know His Majesty only listens to your counsel, so they throw all these old trivial matters at you. Now that Lord Du doesn’t even know if he’s alive or dead, what’s the point of investigating his old accounts?”

“That incident at the entertainment district wasn’t aimed at me at all. It’s clearly because someone was dissatisfied with Grand Commandant Miao’s memorial advocating war and deliberately tripped him up.”

Jiang Xianming laughed coldly. “Though I’ve never gotten along with that crude military man Grand Commandant Miao, the memorial he submitted was correct. Our Great Qi can’t keep living by paying annual tribute to the barbarians. Even if we wanted to, the barbarians’ greed is insatiable—how could they be satisfied with just this?”

“As for this Du Cong—just because he’s disappeared doesn’t mean we can’t settle his old accounts? Over fifteen years, more than a dozen officials below him sent him money through wind and rain. And he sent money upward to those unnamed people above. Without even thinking, this money must all be the people’s fat and blood! Since it’s the people’s fat and blood, how can I easily let these parasites go?”

Jiang Xianming flipped through the account ledger on his desk. “Chancellor Meng is now promoting new policies with only a strategy of ‘nurturing integrity through generous salaries,’ but I believe generous salaries are completely useless for nurturing integrity. They only increase private greed, and in the end, it’s still the common people who suffer.”

“According to what you’re saying, is Chancellor Meng… afraid this time?” Old Neizhi wasn’t merely managing trivial household matters. Back in the day, he had also followed Jiang Xianming when he served as Prefect of Yongzhou and had seen the world, so naturally he could speak a few words on these matters. “Fourteen or fifteen years now—could it be that after staying in Wen County, Chancellor Meng no longer dares to have that sharp edge from back then? But speaking of what happened back then, Chancellor Meng at least was only demoted to Wen County. The most miserable was Chancellor Zhang—more than ten years of exile… I heard characters for exile were even tattooed on his body. His wife and son died on the road. Now when he’s returned, it’s only him alone.”

The hand with which Xu Hexue held the green tile trembled.

During this period since returning to the mortal world, he had heard about matters concerning Meng Yunxian and his teacher Zhang Jing. He knew that after his death, his teacher had fallen from the highest and most prominent position among Great Qi’s civil officials to the exile road.

Tattooed with characters, shackled in chains, as a criminal official, wandering for many years, losing wife and child.

All of this, he knew.

Yet whenever he heard these things from others’ mouths, his heart always suffered torment for it.

“Chancellor Zhang suffered this exile punishment not only because the new policies failed back then, but also because he was…” Even in his own home, facing his most loyal old servant, Jiang Xianming found it very difficult to speak of the other hidden reason for Zhang Jing’s exile—in truth, it was because of His Majesty’s displaced anger.

Zhang Jing was Xu Hexue’s teacher.

It happened that Grand Preceptor Wu Dai had presented to His Majesty a “New Calendar Poetry Collection” compiled and edited by several renowned talents from among the people. It contained a total of thirty-one famous poems. Two poems by Zhang Jing and his student Xu Hexue in mutual response were prominently included.

In the year Xu Hexue passed the imperial examinations, Zhang Jing had deconstructed his name and style name to write a poem called “Midnight.”

“Ice soul and snow spirit”—this was Zhang Jing’s interpretation of Xu Hexue.

Every word and phrase in the poem contained a teacher’s earnest hopes for a beloved student and unstinting praise. In fact, Zhang Jing had never so openly praised his students before.

That poem was written by Zhang Jing when he first heard of Xu Hexue passing the imperial examinations. In his joy, he immediately composed it. Originally it should have been unknown to others, but another of his students, He Tong, when organizing and printing his poetry collections, had also included this piece, thus it was transmitted to the marketplace.

That poem had been widely circulated for a time.

Xu Hexue had also written a poem called “Bamboo Heart” in response to his teacher’s praise, willing to take bamboo as his heart—to taste its resilience, feel its straightness, maintain unity of knowledge and action, to repay teachers and friends, to repay family and nation.

However, no one had anticipated that these two famous poems in mutual response between teacher and student would become the key to Zhang Jing’s conviction and exile five years later.

How could “ice soul and snow spirit” be used to describe a criminal official who bore the crime of treason and died under the punishment of death by a thousand cuts? His Majesty was furiously angry. He issued an edict to destroy the “New Calendar Poetry Collection” and strictly ordered that anyone who compiled and printed these two poems again would receive thirty strokes of the rod.

This was the famous “New Calendar Poetry Case.”

After the “New Calendar Poetry Case,” Zhang Jing was no longer Great Qi’s chief minister.

Jiang Xianming sighed deeply: “What kind of person Chancellor Meng truly is, I actually can’t see clearly. He’s too deep. But Chancellor Zhang served the nation and the people. Even suffering criminal exile, he still receives the admiration of scholars throughout the realm. Actually, when I said those words when he returned to the capital, it wasn’t to deliberately make things difficult. It’s just that if I didn’t ask clearly, if I didn’t make him publicly sever ties with past events before everyone’s eyes, I’m afraid His Majesty’s heart would still harbor thoughts. His return wasn’t easy—there can’t be another ‘New Calendar Poetry Case.'”

“Last month when I went to the palace to consult the ‘Records of Officials’ Political Achievements Over the Years’ but couldn’t, I later learned it had been requested for the Administrative Hall. It seems Chancellor Zhang requested it. I believe Chancellor Zhang intends to reform official administration.”

Jiang Xianming stroked his now-beardless chin with one hand. “If this is truly the case, my investigation of Du Cong’s old accounts can also catch this favorable wind.”

On the roof, Xu Hexue almost immediately understood what this person intended to do the instant he heard Jiang Xianming’s words clearly. He immediately turned back and said in a lowered voice to Ni Su beside him: “Wait for me here. If you’re afraid, crouch down and don’t look below.”

Before Ni Su could respond, she saw him pick up the lantern and stand. His figure then transformed into long mist and dispersed into the courtyard below.

“Who’s there?”

Old Neizhi casually raised his eyes, but unexpectedly glimpsed a dim shadow reflected on the window gauze. He was immediately startled and wanted to rush out of the room.

Who would have known that just as he pulled open the door, he heard a clear sound of unsheathing, followed by the sword hilt striking his knee. Old Neizhi staggered backward and fell to the ground. The door that had been pulled halfway open was slammed shut from outside with a “bang.”

Jiang Xianming immediately stood up to help Old Neizhi stand. He stared intently at the shadow reflected on the window gauze and said in a heavy voice: “Who are you?!”

“Since I delivered the account ledger to Censor, naturally I also need to come and listen to see exactly what you’ve investigated.”

Xu Hexue held a lamp, standing sideways by the window.

“It’s you?”

Jiang Xianming’s face showed astonishment.

Old Neizhi also suddenly realized—this person was actually that mysterious person who had thrown the account ledger at his lord’s head yet left no trace.

“Censor Jiang, since you know the two Chancellors Zhang and Meng have only recently returned to the capital, and the new policies’ implementation is so difficult that they’re hampered at every turn—isn’t it somewhat naive for you to try borrowing the wind from the Eastern Hall at this time?”

Xu Hexue lowered his voice somewhat.

Jiang Xianming paused, naturally also thinking of the depths involved. But looking at that shadow, he said coldly: “Does Your Excellency think the account ledger was given to the wrong person?”

“I merely believe Censor Jiang should have a better method.”

“For instance?”

“Du Cong’s account ledger records a Flying Horse Trampling on a Swallow sculpture—white jade as its base, five feet in length. If I remember correctly, this object should be a treasure from an ancient Western Region kingdom that went missing en route to being presented as tribute in the first year of Zhengyuan.”

Almost the instant this person’s words fell, Jiang Xianming immediately had some impression. He turned back and quickly flipped through several pages of the account ledger. Sure enough, he found this object among them. He immediately looked up: “Who exactly are you, Your Excellency?”

Xu Hexue didn’t answer him, only saying: “This object is clearly the favorable wind—why does Censor Jiang seek far when the answer is near?”

Jiang Xianming actually didn’t have much impression of these gold and jade objects, so he hadn’t known what background this Flying Horse Trampling on a Swallow in the accounts had, or how precious it was. Reminded by this person, he truly had a sudden realization.

“That day at the entertainment district, who did Censor Jiang go to meet?”

Suddenly, Jiang Xianming heard the person outside the window ask. He immediately became alert: “How do you know? Have you been monitoring me?”

The person outside the window didn’t answer.

Jiang Xianming waited a moment, but only heard an extremely light cold laugh.

“Could it be,”

Jiang Xianming’s thoughts raced. His face showed astonishment. “The one who saw through that barbarian that day at the entertainment district—was it you?”

In fact, Xu Hexue had never personally seen Jiang Xianming at the entertainment district, but at this moment, he calmly guided Jiang Xianming’s thoughts in this direction, inducing him to reveal his cards: “The people waiting to trap Grand Commandant Miao at the entertainment district might not be unacquainted with you either. Censor Jiang need not do everything personally.”

Jiang Xianming was half-believing and half-doubting. Tentatively, he asked in return: “Before Your Excellency gave me the account ledger, had you already examined it?”

“Fifteen years of accounts, totaling fifty-three million six hundred thousand strings of cash.”

Xu Hexue said flatly.

Jiang Xianming was speechless. This number was correct, so was the person who gave him the account ledger that night truly this person? He pondered for a moment and said: “Since you’ve seen it, you naturally also know about Manyu Money House. That day, I didn’t specifically go to the entertainment district seeking someone. Rather, on my way to Manyu Money House, I happened to encounter the manager heading toward the entertainment district. I wanted to know who he was going to meet, so without thinking much, I quietly followed.”

The manager of Manyu Money House was often not in the capital. Among those remaining in the capital, few knew much about internal affairs. Jiang Xianming had originally wanted to probe the returned manager’s attitude.

“Since this case isn’t yet clear, I can’t openly go to the money house and alert them. But with Your Excellency’s reminder, now I only need to find out where that Flying Horse Trampling on a Swallow sculpture is, and I’ll at least be able to know one of the people above Du Cong. With this one person, knowing the other several shouldn’t be difficult.”

Du Cong’s money transfers all went through Manyu Money House, but precious objects like the Flying Horse Trampling on a Swallow—presumably the money house people had never been in contact with it either, so there was no fear of alerting them.

Jiang Xianming held the authority to report on hearsay, which could now be put to use.

Xu Hexue said nothing. His objective had been achieved. He turned to leave, but heard Jiang Xianming’s voice from inside the room: “May I ask Your Excellency, why did you give the account ledger to me? Why not send it to Guangning Prefecture?”

Hearing this, Xu Hexue turned back. The lamplight reflected in his eyes like stagnant water. He silently examined that vague, unclear figure within the window gauze.

This year was already the new year, the twentieth year of Zhengyuan.

In the fourth year of Zhengyuan, the master of this room had still been a young man in his twenties, reading the classics of sages, establishing ambitions to serve the nation, traveling with his scholar’s frail body to the war-torn border city of Yongzhou to serve as prefect.

Before Jiang Xianming, the heads of three previous prefects had already been hung high on the city walls by barbarians.

The first thing he did upon entering the city as prefect was to fulfill the wishes of the border city residents who had survived the brutal warfare—to execute the traitor criminal with the harshest punishment.

His Majesty’s edict only specified the death penalty, but Jiang Xianming followed the people’s will and oversaw the execution by a thousand cuts.

Xu Hexue actually didn’t know what this person had looked like before, because at that time on the execution platform, both his eyes had already been injured by barbarian golden blades and couldn’t see.

He could only hear this person’s voice—forceful, indignant.

“All the world knows,”

Xu Hexue’s voice was calm, “that you, Censor Jiang, are most unwilling to disappoint the people’s will. They regard you as a mouthpiece that can reach the heavens.”

“That’s all.”

The tea water on the stove boiled again. A few light coughs from a woman came from behind the curtain. Xu Hexue immediately came back to himself. With one hand braced on the desk, he stood up with difficulty, poured a bowl of hot tea, and walked into the inner room.

“Did I sleep for a very long time?” Ni Su’s voice was somewhat nasal. She accepted the tea he handed her and took a sip. Her dry throat felt somewhat better.

“Not very long.”

Xu Hexue shook his head.

He took back the tea bowl she returned and placed it on a stool nearby.

Ni Su rubbed her eyelids. She kept watching him. Even though most of the time he didn’t show much expression, she still felt that the bit of happiness from playing with snowballs with him last night had been completely worn away by his heavy concerns.

“When I was sleeping, when you were sitting there, what were you thinking about?”

She tried to touch upon his concerns.

Xu Hexue paused. He turned around and met her eyes unexpectedly.

She had a sickly appearance, yet leaned on the edge of the bed, earnestly concerned about him.

Xu Hexue’s throat tightened. After returning last night, he had recalled more things from the past, recalling how his teacher had always maintained a stern face, never showing joy or anger.

Yet it was precisely this teacher who, upon learning of his passing the imperial examinations, was so delighted he could hardly sleep. He had even written a poem called “Midnight,” unstinting in his praise.

Before that, Xu Hexue had never known his teacher valued him so highly in his heart.

Xu Hexue had responded with “Bamboo Heart” to prove his own heart.

At that time, he had truly believed he could serve in court together with his teacher, becoming a Great Qi civil official as his teacher expected, becoming a person with a heart like bamboo.

The clearer the memories became, the more difficult it was for Xu Hexue to endure.

His teacher was now all alone. He very much wanted his teacher to live well—at least in this latter half of his life, to never again wander and suffer illness because of any matter.

He absolutely could not let Jiang Xianming involve his teacher in this matter of Du Cong again.

This path, he would walk himself.

Xu Hexue’s hand resting on his knee gripped the edge of his robe. Facing this young lady’s concerned gaze, after a long while, his voice was hoarse:

“Ni Su, I miss my teacher.”