Several more days passed with still no trace of Mei Que. The rumors outside grew increasingly clamorous, and this matter had almost become the most talked-about topic in the marketplace. At this time, someone in court submitted a memorial impeaching Wu Guangda, mentioning how he had repeatedly indulged his son over the years in forcibly seizing young women and bullying others with his power, causing widespread resentment throughout the city.

This was the first snowflake falling before an avalanche. Just when everyone thought this would be glossed over lightly as in the past, in the following days people continued to submit memorials requesting a thorough investigation of Wu Peng, including accusations that he had seized fertile farmland and committed murder while riding his horse.

This commotion could no longer be ignored. Emperor Xuande inquired about it casually in court and ordered the Court of Judicial Review to investigate the details. When the Emperor gave this order, the court officials all used their peripheral vision to observe the Left Minister’s expression. Wu Guangda stood at the very front of the ranks, bent over with his head lowered. Nothing could be discerned from his back, but after these days of various incidents, any official who had served in court for some years had begun to realize that this was a planned operation behind the scenes—the court would likely undergo a change soon.

When Zhao Rong arrived at the official residence, the man inside was leaning by the water pavilion feeding fish. Gao Yang and He Zhong sat to one side. The room was utterly quiet, making one mistakenly think they were still at the Marquis Dingbei’s estate in Qizhou.

He Zhong took a sip of the tea Gao Yang handed him and smacked his lips with dissatisfaction: “This tea just isn’t as satisfying as wine. After drinking it, my mouth feels as bland as a bird’s.”

Gao Yang ignored his complaint. After Zhao Rong also sat down cross-legged by the brazier, he poured him a cup as well.

“How are things outside?” Xia Xiuyan turned his head, scooped up a handful of fish food, tossed it to the fish gathered together in the pond, and asked casually.

Gao Yang answered: “Wu Peng has done quite a few disgraceful things over the years. The Court of Judicial Review doesn’t even need to investigate carefully to find a pile of them. Just this morning, the Court of Judicial Review has already sent people to bring Wu Peng back for detention and interrogation.”

Hearing this, He Zhong was delighted: “Oh? So Wu Guangda just watched as his own son was taken away without making a sound?”

“It’s just detention for interrogation, not a verdict yet.” Gao Yang was unconcerned. “The Wu family has attracted too much attention these past two years. The Emperor also wants to use this to give them a warning—he won’t do much to them.”

He Zhong was deflated: “So you’re saying it was all for nothing?”

Gao Yang smiled and shook his head: “Not entirely. The wind rises from the tip of green duckweed—a great wind is coming.”

“Can’t stand how you people talk in such refined ways.” He Zhong muttered quietly, then turned to ask Zhao Rong, “But this time why is Wu Peng being so compliant?”

Zhao Rong said: “He used Rong Li Incense that day and his consciousness wasn’t clear. He probably truly believes he beat Mei Que to death. Add to that how Miss Qiu pretended to be a ghost and climbed through the window into the room that day—I’m afraid she also frightened him badly. With all the gossip outside, I think he’s starting to believe the theory about a female ghost claiming his life himself.”

Remembering the little Daoist that night with her hair loose, clumsily climbing through the window while gripping the window frame, the man beneath the mask couldn’t help showing a trace of amusement. However, the man feeding fish by the water pavilion, thinking of something, had an even more indifferent expression on his face: “Any news from the palace?”

Zhao Rong rested his hand on his leg and answered: “A few days ago someone went to Daye Ward to investigate secretly—should be the First Prince’s people. By now they should know Mei Que’s identity. They’re probably like a frightened bird, truly believing that day’s incident was directed at him. This way, regardless of whether he thinks that day’s events were related to Wu Peng or not, before finding Mei Que, he definitely won’t want to easily get involved in this matter.”

“I heard that in these past two days several more memorials impeaching Wu Guangda have been submitted—these weren’t arranged by us. It seems this old fellow, who usually has the appearance of someone everyone fawns over and holds power, has secretly been hated by quite a few people. We’ve barely started beating the drums and already many spectators want to join in pushing down the wall.” He Zhong stroked his chin and chuckled twice. “What does the Marquis plan to do next?”

“Wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“Wu Guangda isn’t a fool. If he still can’t figure out who’s fanning the flames behind the scenes, he wouldn’t be wronged to die immediately.” Xia Xiuyan gave a cold laugh. “I’ve already entered the game. Next we’ll see how he responds.” He stood up, brushed off the fine particles on his hands, and walked toward the outside: “Let’s go see Lan Hui. She’s been waiting for this day for a long time too.”

After his figure disappeared from the room, Gao Yang also clapped his hands and stood up. He Zhong tugged at the hem of his robe and asked strangely: “Has something happened to the Marquis recently? By all accounts everything is going smoothly—why don’t I see him happy at all?”

Even a rough fellow like He Zhong had noticed—it seemed something had indeed happened that day at Fangchi Garden. Gao Yang turned to look at Zhao Rong. The masked man saw both of them looking over, was slightly startled, then shook his head.

On Qingming Festival, Qiu Xinran went alone to Qinglong Temple. There weren’t many worshippers in the temple. The monk responsible for reception led her to the administrative hall: “This benefactor has stored these items in the temple for quite some time. Are you still not planning to take them this year?”

“I trouble the temple.”

“Not at all. The benefactor sends incense money every year—these things are only natural.” The monk smiled and led her out of the administrative hall, handing her a brass key: “Whenever the benefactor wishes to retrieve them, you may come to the temple with this.” Qiu Xinran took the key and thanked him. Before leaving, she couldn’t help but ask: “These past two years… has anyone come to look?”

“No,” the monk seemed puzzled. “Is the benefactor waiting for someone to come?”

Qiu Xinran shook her head, her expression unclear whether it was regret or relief: “Just asking casually. Little master need not take it to heart.”

It was still early when she came out, so she walked toward the Hall of Peaceful Spirits at the back of the mountain—that was where the temple housed memorial tablets for worshippers. She followed a small path in the temple through a moon gate to a courtyard full of pine and cypress trees. This place was very secluded; unless one was paying respects to relatives and friends, worshippers normally wouldn’t come here.

At this moment it suddenly began to drizzle. At first it was only like ox hair, but gradually it became heavier. Halfway there, she had no choice but to randomly enter a Buddhist hall to take shelter from the rain. This place wasn’t far from the Hall of Peaceful Spirits and also housed spirit tablets—a memorial hall. However, the inside was covered in dust, filled mostly with unclaimed anonymous tablets.

Unexpectedly, there was also a man in a gray-blue cloth robe standing in this room. Hearing the movement, he turned his head. Seeing the woman entering while shaking off rain, he was slightly startled. He wore half a silver mask on his face. Qiu Xinran remembered seeing him once before at Xia Xiuyan’s official residence. That night at Fangchi Garden, he had also driven the carriage to take Mei Que away. After a moment of daze, she took the initiative to greet him: “General Zhao?”

Zhao Rong seemed not to have expected that she would still remember him. After a moment he smiled slightly: “Miss Qiu still remembers me?”

Qiu Xinran also smiled: “For those of us who read faces to make a living, how could we not remember people?” As she spoke, she casually looked around the Buddhist hall and said offhandedly: “Did the general come to the temple to offer incense?”

“A relative’s memorial tablet is kept at the temple.”

Qiu Xinran was somewhat surprised: “You’re from Chang’an?”

Zhao Rong nodded: “I lived in Chang’an when I was young.”

“Then how did you end up in Qizhou?”

“After my family members passed away, I went to Qizhou.”

Qiu Xinran wasn’t close with him, so having asked this far, it wouldn’t be proper to inquire further. So she said: “General Zhao is young yet able to devote yourself to military service—truly admirable.” After saying this, she saw what seemed like a trace of amusement flash in the eyes beneath his mask. Somewhat puzzled, she then heard him ask: “Why has the young lady come to the temple today?”

“An old friend’s memorial tablet is stored here.” Thinking of this, she couldn’t help hesitating before speaking: “Miss Mei Que now…”

“The Marquis has arranged for her to be in a safe place. The young lady need not worry.”

“That’s good then.”

Zhao Rong was clearly not talkative. Two people who weren’t very familiar could only silently watch the curtain of rain outside together. Qiu Xinran noticed there was an umbrella beside him and absentmindedly wondered—if he had an umbrella, why was he also stuck here with her? Was he waiting for something?

Just as she was thinking this, after a while another person walked into the Buddhist hall with an umbrella. Upon reaching under the eaves, the person closed the umbrella, revealing a delicate face—it was actually Miss Lan Hui from Fangchi Garden. She carried a bamboo basket on her arm containing incense, flowers, and candles, also seemingly here to pay respects at the temple.

When Lan Hui closed her umbrella and saw Qiu Xinran standing in the Buddhist hall, her face also showed a trace of astonishment. She instinctively turned to look at Zhao Rong beside her. Qiu Xinran suddenly understood: this was the person he was waiting for.

The three people in this room faced each other awkwardly. Qiu Xinran felt embarrassed. Although she didn’t know why the two of them were meeting in this secluded place with no one around, her presence here was truly rather obtrusive. Fortunately, the rain outside was gradually lessening, reverting to the drizzle it had been at the start. She cleared her throat, shook out her robe, and walked two steps toward the front of the platform, planning to leave the Buddhist hall to those two and walk the short distance to the Buddhist temple ahead in the light rain. The other two also perceived her intention. Lan Hui didn’t speak, but Zhao Rong suddenly called out to stop her.

Qiu Xinran turned around and saw him pass over the umbrella that had originally been at his side: “It’s raining outside. If the young lady doesn’t mind, you may use my umbrella.”

This General Zhao looked aloof, but unexpectedly he was quite helpful. Qiu Xinran sighed inwardly, but thinking that borrowing it would inevitably require another trip to the Marquis Dingbei’s estate to return it, she still declined aloud: “Thank you for the kind offer, but it’s just a few steps—it won’t matter.”

The person opposite still extended his hand after hearing this, with no intention of backing down. Qiu Xinran felt somewhat awkward. Fortunately, seeing this, Lan Hui hurriedly offered: “Why don’t you use mine, young lady?” She had clearly perceived the other party’s concerns and smiled: “I live at Fangchi Garden. If it’s inconvenient for you to come, just send someone to make the trip.”

Qiu Xinran looked at the rain outside, feeling somewhat tempted: “If I borrow your umbrella, young lady, what will you do?”

Lan Hui smiled: “This rain won’t last long. I’ll wait here for the rain to stop before leaving—it’s the same.”

“Then thank you for your kindness, young lady.” Qiu Xinran reached out to take the umbrella from her hand. Looking again at the man beside her, seeing that this time he had finally withdrawn his umbrella, she also smiled at him. Before leaving, she inadvertently glanced at the memorial tablet behind the man, only to discover that it was actually blank—nothing written on it at all. She was startled but said nothing and turned to walk out of the Buddhist hall.

Qiu Xinran went to the Hall of Peaceful Spirits with the umbrella. When she came out from inside, the rain had gradually stopped. Walking along the path with the umbrella, she heard the sound of rain hitting the pine forest—pattering away, quite peaceful. Halfway there, she thought about it and still turned back to the courtyard from before, planning to return the umbrella to avoid having to make another trip another day.

Returning to the courtyard from before, she indeed heard voices speaking inside. Just as she was glad the two hadn’t left yet, she suddenly heard the woman inside say: “…the daughter of the Zhang family can’t keep hiding like this forever.”

Qiu Xinran’s footsteps halted. After a moment she heard Zhao Rong’s voice from inside: “Leaving you here alone all these years has already wronged you.”

“Who isn’t wronged? Big brother has faced death on the frontier, and even after returning to the capital cannot show his true face to others—isn’t that wronging you too?” the woman said gently. “As long as this matter succeeds and we can clear the Zhang family’s name of injustice, all the past grievances won’t matter. Even if I had to sacrifice this life, I would do so willingly.”

Zhao Rong frowned and interrupted her: “What nonsense. No matter how heavy the Zhang family’s injustice, it’s not as important as your life.”

Lan Hui laughed. She sighed: “Yes, you and I must both live well…”

Qiu Xinran quietly withdrew from the courtyard after hearing this. The sky was gradually clearing. Raindrops fell from the eaves onto the steps. She walked toward the mountain gate with the umbrella. Beneath the verdant green pine needles, a snow-white orchid quietly bloomed on the umbrella’s surface.