Chapter 23

That was a realistic rendering of the Tree Canopy Evasion Chart.

The lush canopy blotted out the sky, yet between the crowns there were narrow gaps, as if someone had meticulously pruned them. Each tree seemed to occupy its own designated territory, neither encroaching on the others nor straying far.

It was a common sight, one that folk elders often cited as proof that trees possessed spirits of their own.

The painting’s craftsmanship was exquisite, though it lacked any deeper artistic flair. Hanging in this unassuming little building, fragrant with the aroma of tea, it actually complemented the surroundings quite well.

The reason Liu Yuanxun had noticed the painting was because this Tree Canopy Evasion Chart possessed one glaringly obvious feature—one that, aside from himself, probably only the person who had delivered the zither score could fully appreciate.

In his idle moments these past few days, he had pored over that zither score, committing the route map it depicted to memory.

When he turned his gaze to this painting, it had only felt vaguely familiar at first. But as he scrutinized the gaps between the tree crowns more closely, he realized that the map he had drawn from the score fitted perfectly into the chart’s patterns.

In simple terms, the gaps amid the canopies in the Tree Canopy Evasion Chart formed a labyrinth without any markings, while the map from the zither score provided the correct path through it.

The painting’s presence reaffirmed something for him: among those watching him were not only the group that had killed Liu San, but also the separate faction that had passed him the zither score.

Otherwise, how else could he have just stepped into the Nameless Residence only for someone to guide him straight to the painting?

And the one who had delivered the zither score knew him to some degree.

Fearing he might overlook the painting behind the stage, they had used the zither player to draw his attention. If he paused to appreciate the music, he was bound to notice the artwork at the musician’s back.

Such caution, such meticulous planning—it only deepened Liu Yuanxun’s curiosity.

He made no show of it, however. It was just a painting, hanging right there in plain sight, so he had plenty of opportunities to retrieve it. There was no need to reveal anything unusual under the eyes of his watchers.

From then on, Liu Yuanxun behaved entirely normally.

They had originally planned to head straight for the Imperial Prison to retrieve Broom Tail, but considering how inconvenient it would be to shop for New Year’s goods with a dog in tow, he decided to handle the purchases first and collect the beast afterward.

Lacking experience and preparation—and with the prince’s manor boasting its own stewards into the bargain—their “New Year’s shopping” amounted to little more than a few loops around the streets and some haphazard purchases.

The Embroidered Uniform Guard headquarters lay in the north of the Imperial City, on the opposite end from the Taichang Temple. Liu Yuanxun rarely ventured out, so in all these years, he had never laid eyes on the Embroidered Uniform Guard Commandant Office.

Somewhat curious, Liu Yuanxun asked, “I’ve heard that the Embroidered Uniform Guard eats and drinks right there in the compound. Do they have sleeping quarters as well?”

The prospect of having Broom Tail by his side again had greatly improved Gu Lianzhao’s mood, lending him unusual patience. He answered Liu Yuanxun’s question earnestly.

“The Embroidered Uniform Guard compound is laid out in a ‘field’ shape. Upon entering, the interrogation rooms lie to the left and the main hall to the right. Behind the interrogation rooms is the Imperial Prison, and behind the main hall are our daily quarters for resting and eating.”

Ling Qing chimed in. “Don’t any of you go home?”

Gu Lianzhao replied flatly, “Embroidered Uniform Guard cases often drag on for months, and we mobilize at a moment’s notice. For convenience, most of us bunk in the compound and rarely return home.”

Besides, for him, the Guard headquarters at least had Broom Tail. Beyond its gates, he doubted he could find anywhere else in the streets that felt like home.

The Embroidered Uniform Guard headquarters was a place of official business, after all, so they couldn’t linger on chatter. Liu Yuanxun asked a couple of questions and fell silent, listening with a smile as Ling Qing spoke.

Her voice rang clear and crisp, her words tumbling out swiftly; she could make the most ordinary matter sound utterly fascinating. Liu Yuanxun found himself smiling as he listened, his gaze upon her exceptionally gentle.

Gu Lianzhao happened to catch sight of the exchange and couldn’t help frowning. He suddenly found himself reassessing the relationship between Liu Yuanxun and Ling Qing.

As a servant, Ling Qing’s manners were flamboyantly unrestrained. She flouted convention, treated Liu Yuanxun not at all like a superior, and enjoyed the fare and finery of a young lady from a modest household.

Setting aside her own temperament, much of her current bearing stemmed from Liu Yuanxun’s indulgence…

For a master to dote on his maidservant so openly, his intentions weren’t hard to divine. Gu Lianzhao scoffed inwardly, averted his eyes, and tuned out their conversation.

A short half-hour later, they arrived at the Embroidered Uniform Guard headquarters.

Liu Yuanxun had been cooped up in the carriage for some time and thought to step out for fresh air. But as he lifted the curtain, a chill blast of cold struck him, making him shiver involuntarily.

Nine ridged rooftops rose in staggered array beneath the imposing, solemn hipped roof, where hung the plaque of the Embroidered Uniform Guard Commandant Office. Dark gray bricks formed walls twice the height of a man, and the entire structure backed onto shadow, forever shrouded in gloomy dimness no matter the hour.

Gu Lianzhao dismounted first. The two Guard sentries on duty froze at the sight of him, then exchanged uncertain glances, unsure how to address him.

Word of Gu Lianzhao being offered to the Seventh Prince hadn’t spread beyond the Guard, but everyone inside knew. He had always kept to himself, spending most of his time in the Imperial Prison with little rapport among his fellows. His departure had stirred no great concern.

Then the carriage curtain parted again, revealing a mild and handsome face, somewhat pale.

The sentries hurried forward at once, sweeping back their robes and dropping to one knee with clasped fists. “We have seen Prince Rui.”

Their kneel forced Liu Yuanxun from the carriage.

He placed his hand on Ling Ting’s for support as he alighted, saying slowly, “Rise.”

No sooner had Prince Rui appeared than word reached the Commandant Office. Liu Xun was handling affairs in the second hall when a subordinate reported the news, his face twisting in unmistakable surprise.

Prince Rui?

What was Prince Rui doing at the Commandant Office with Gu Lianzhao in tow?

Whatever the purpose, Liu Xun had to greet him.

Liu Yuanxun was still chatting with the sentries at the gate when Liu Xun emerged at the head of a throng, their vivid Flying Fish Robes blazing with color and authority. Every man among them was slim-waisted and long-limbed, radiating murderous aura; their sudden appearance made Liu Yuanxun instinctively want to shrink back.

It wasn’t fear—his nature was gentle and retiring, unused to strife. Such an overbearing display simply left him instinctively uneasy.

Liu Xun cut an imposing figure: tall and broad, with a long beard and white side-whiskers framing a face as ruddy as a jujube. He resembled the deity Guan Yu reborn, exuding formidable authority.

He clasped his fists in salute, his voice cold and clipped. “This humble officer greets Your Highness. Might I ask what brings Prince Rui to the Commandant Office?”

Liu Yuanxun returned a cupped-fist salute. “I’m just taking a casual look around. No need to rouse everyone—please disperse.”

Liu Xun asked no further and waved the crowd away with a gesture.

His gaze then settled on Gu Lianzhao. The prince’s visit to the Commandant Office was likely tied to this young man, though whether for good or ill remained to be seen.

Liu Xun’s feelings toward Gu Lianzhao were profoundly conflicted.

On one hand, he was a capable subordinate of exceptional skill and martial prowess, who had cracked many a major case for him. On the other, a head wolf always fears a rising rival; the faster Gu Lianzhao advanced, the more uneasy his direct superior grew. What had once been his sharpest blade now hinted at turning against its master.

Gu Lianzhao was one he had personally recommended to the emperor. If this marriage came to pass, he could silently eliminate a potential threat and claim rewards for his “service” to boot.

Should it fall through…

Given Gu Lianzhao’s sharpness, suspicion was inevitable in time. Better to strike first and forestall any future revenge. The question was how much the young man knew already…

Liu Xun eyed Gu Lianzhao discreetly, about to invite the prince inside, when Gu Lianzhao—who had been standing respectfully to the side—stepped forward and saluted with clasped fists. “This subordinate pays respects to the Commanding Officer!”

His words stunned every Guard present.

Hadn’t he been married off? Why call himself a subordinate still?

Did that mean the emperor hadn’t dismissed him after all?

This was momentous—a critical signal for the entire Embroidered Uniform Guard.

The Guard operated ostensibly independent of court politics, unentangled with the ministers. Yet that very autonomy left them reliant on imperial favor.

Liu Xun had once been the godson of Eunuch Hong from before the throne, securing his unrivaled status within the Guard. But if Gu Lianzhao became the Seventh Prince’s consort, that blood tie would outrank mere godsonship by far.

Should Gu Lianzhao return to the Guard under such patronage, the winds at the Commandant Office would surely shift…

Liu Xun’s face twitched twice, but he forced himself not to press the issue.

“I’ve only come for a minor matter. Everyone, carry on with your duties—don’t let us hinder the Embroidered Uniform Guard’s work.” Liu Yuanxun glanced at Gu Lianzhao and said gently, “Aren’t we here for Broom Tail? Go on.”

Hearing the true purpose, Liu Xun’s taut shoulders finally relaxed. He beckoned to a subordinate. “You—fetch the dog from the Imperial Prison.”

“No need to trouble him,” Liu Yuanxun reiterated. “Send Gu Jiu instead. After all, he’ll be resuming his post with the Embroidered Uniform Guard in a couple of days. Best not let things grow rusty from disuse.”

Since Gu Lianzhao’s self-designation as “subordinate,” Liu Xun had half-expected as much, so his expression remained composed. His Guards behind him, however, lacked such restraint.

Positions in the Commandant Office were fiercely competitive, each a hard-won pit in the ground. With Gu Lianzhao’s abduction, the North Pacification Commissioner post had opened up.

Liu Xun had others under him besides Gu Lianzhao; once he was gone, the slot naturally went to another. It had all been settled, awaiting only the dismissal decree for the successor to step up. Who could have foreseen Gu Lianzhao’s abrupt return? The duck that seemed cooked had flown the coop, leaving the man both shocked and furious, his face contorted.

As an imperial prince ever at the emperor’s side, Liu Yuanxun excelled at reading expressions. He caught the look and remarked with mock lightness, “This officer’s face sours so—what, not welcome?”

The named Guard panicked, dropping his head and kneeling at once. “This humble officer dares not!”

“Just a jest—rise.” Liu Yuanxun smiled, then turned to Gu Lianzhao beside him. “Why haven’t you gone yet?”

Gu Lianzhao shot him a glance laced with complex emotion, then entered the Commandant Office to fetch the dog.

“Lord Liu, see to your duties. We’ll leave once Gu Jiu returns.” Liu Yuanxun’s demeanor was mild and affable, yet in a few short words, he had restored Gu Lianzhao’s standing among the Guard upon his return.

From that day forward, those who respected him or scorned him alike would at least keep up appearances on the surface.