As soon as Gu Lianzhao arrived, Liu Yuanxun instructed Ling Ting to deliver the calling card.
Once the man had left, he finally asked, “What did you find?”
Gu Lianzhao pulled up a chair and sat directly across from him. “It wasn’t so much that I uncovered anything new,” he said. “Liu Qianyuan’s death had suspicious elements from the start. But those inconsistencies were too minor, and there was no concrete evidence. Besides, his death didn’t change much either way, so no one paid it any mind.”
Before Liu Yuanxun had gotten involved in investigating the case, Liu Qianyuan had been seen by everyone as just a capable Pacification Commissioner. He wasn’t a key witness in any matter, nor was he entangled in any conflicts of interest. When word spread that he had fallen to the killers during the pursuit, others simply remarked on the pity of it and moved on.
Logically speaking, a body lost amid the chaos of battle was the perfect cover for hiding traces of murder. Amid flashing blades and clashing swords, a few chops or gashes could easily end a life, leaving no one the wiser.
Yet upon closer scrutiny, there was one highly suspicious detail in this case.
Liu Qianyuan had been leading the Embroidered Uniform Guard in pursuit of the killers when the desperate fugitives turned the tables and struck him down. But those criminals knew little of the Embroidered Uniform Guard and even less about Liu Qianyuan himself, so they left behind one glaring flaw.
The Embroidered Uniform Guard maintained iron discipline and underwent rigorous training. Whether chasing down foes, breaking through lines, or closing in for the kill, they employed precise tactical formations tailored to the target.
As one of the Embroidered Uniform Guard’s top experts—with numerous comrades at his side—Liu Qianyuan followed protocol. A leader of his caliber, spearheading a pursuit, would typically hold the rear to anchor the formation.
First, it guarded against ambushes from behind during the chase. Second, those charging ahead acted as scouts, exposed to the killers’ traps and counter volleys of arrows, bearing the highest risk of casualties. Third, stationing the strongest fighters in the back prevented cornered fugitives from lashing out in desperation and forcing a breakout.
Thus, if Liu Qianyuan had fallen in battle, it would mean most of his squad had already perished. But as an experienced commander leading a pursuit, he never would have recklessly chased after the enemy with inadequate forces.
Therefore, his death was most likely the result of an ambush even he hadn’t anticipated. The so-called pursuit might have been nothing more than a smoke screen to lure him away from the capital and into desolate terrain.
This flaw wasn’t exactly hidden. The reason Gu Lianzhao had only spotted it after more than a year wasn’t due to any exceptional brilliance on his part. No one who wasn’t deliberately hunting for cracks would connect what appeared to be a routine manhunt to some grand conspiracy.
After all, the killers had been captured and executed. The families of the fallen Embroidered Uniform Guard had received their pensions, and no other complications had arisen.
Even if someone noticed the anomaly, they wouldn’t leap to the conclusion that someone had orchestrated such an elaborate plot just to eliminate Liu Qianyuan.
Xiao Jinye, who knew the details, had kept his mouth sealed. Ning Bi, unaware of them, could offer no leads. They had finally tracked down Liu Qianyuan by following scant clues, only to find a corpse.
“There’s one last thing…” Gu Lianzhao gazed quietly at Liu Yuanxun until the other man looked up to meet his eyes. Only then did he speak slowly. “Liu Qianyuan hailed from Jiangnan as well. He passed the Embroidered Uniform Guard’s entrance exam at seventeen and joined their ranks. He rose to Pacification Commissioner at thirty-one and served in the role for five years before his death in the line of duty.”
Another man from Jiangnan…
Liu Yuanxun asked, “Did he have a wife or children?”
Gu Lianzhao replied, “No.”
That was odd. For an ordinary family, remaining unmarried at thirty was considered late. Liu Qianyuan had held a Fourth-Rank position—hardly a poor match. Why hadn’t he taken a wife by thirty-six?
Moreover, he had joined the Embroidered Uniform Guard at seventeen, leaving Jiangnan twenty years prior. How, then, did he connect to a case from a decade ago?
Liu Yuanxun leaned back against the cushions and opened Feng Yuanyuan’s dossier. “Take a look at this too,” he said. “You might spot something I missed.”
“The Embroidered Uniform Guard has a copy of Feng Yuanyuan’s dossier, and I’ve already reviewed it,” Gu Lianzhao said. Even so, he took the file and flipped through it casually before continuing, “The only breakthrough is the matter of Feng Yuanyuan’s son being passed over for promotion.”
A faint smile touched Liu Yuanxun’s face, and he nodded. “That’s what I thought too. But it happened in Jiangnan. If we want the truth, I’m afraid we’ll have to go there in person.”
Gu Lianzhao suddenly looked up at him, a furrow forming unconsciously between his brows. “Is Your Highness planning to go to Jiangnan?”
Liu Yuanxun replied, “Just thinking aloud. Nothing decided yet.”
Jiangnan was far away, and his frail health might not withstand the journey. But if he didn’t go himself, handing it off to someone else might yield nothing.
The road to Jiangnan would be grueling, but the climate there was mild—ideal for recuperation. Had it not been for Consort Mother still residing in the palace, he might have set off already.
Since no decision had been made, Gu Lianzhao said no more.
The moment Liu Yuanxun spoke those words, Gu Lianzhao’s first thought was of the long journey and how Liu Yuanxun likely couldn’t handle it. But on second thought, what business of his was it whether Liu Yuanxun could endure? Wouldn’t it be for the best if he dropped dead along the way?
Whenever serious matters demanded attention, time flew by. A few brief exchanges later, it was already noon.
Assuming Ling Ting ran into no issues, Liu Yuanxun would need to head to Grand Secretary Meng’s residence that afternoon.
After drinking his noon medicine, he needed to rest and gather his strength. A short nap would bring him right to the perfect time.
But no sooner had he stepped out of the archive pavilion’s gates than Hong Fu—dressed in eunuch robes—came hurrying up with a beaming smile. He bowed respectfully. “This servant pays respects to the Seventh Lord.”
Liu Yuanxun halted, frowning despite himself. “What are you doing here?”
Hong Fu’s mouth drooped, his face full of grievance. He gave himself a light, theatrical slap across the cheek. “It must be this old face of mine that’s so unwelcome, vexing the Seventh Lord. But this servant comes today by imperial decree, specially to invite Your Highness into the palace.”
Since it was Liu Yuanze’s command, Liu Yuanxun had no choice but to postpone his other plans.
He glanced at Gu Lianzhao. “A’qiao, go to Meng Mansion and change the calling card’s time to tomorrow. Then have Ling Ting wait for me at the palace gates.”
With that, he turned to Hong Fu, who was eyeing Gu Lianzhao. Liu Yuanxun immediately grew wary. “Eunuch Hong, what are you scheming with A’qiao this time?”
“Oh, this old servant wouldn’t dare! Just taking a quick look, that’s all. Since Your Highness has everything arranged, shall we be off? The sedan is waiting at the Ministry of Punishments gates.”
Hong Fu finished speaking and moved to support Liu Yuanxun as they headed for the entrance.
Once outside, Liu Yuanxun and Gu Lianzhao parted ways.
Settling into the sedan, Liu Yuanxun asked Hong Fu, “Why has Imperial Brother suddenly summoned me to the palace?”
“It’s all about the assassination attempt,” Hong Fu said with a grimace. “Seventh Lord, this is a grave matter. How could you not even mention it? His Majesty flew into a rage the moment he heard. He sent this servant to fetch you from the Ministry of Punishments while dispatching Eunuch Feng to reinforce security at your residence. By the time you return home, I wager the walls will be several meters taller.”
Hong Fu spoke at a rapid clip, his shrill voice laden with superfluous chatter—like a dagger scraping harshly against sheet metal. Liu Yuanxun’s head throbbed, and he murmured, “Eunuch Hong, could you keep your voice down…”
Hong Fu’s shoulders slumped, and he clapped a hand over his mouth, looking utterly aggrieved. That expression might have seemed charming and cute on a child’s face, but on an old eunuch, it was profoundly incongruous.
Liu Yuanxun turned his head away, unwilling to engage further. For the rest of the trip, he closed his eyes and feigned sleep.
Several times, he nearly drifted off, but each time drowsiness crept in, the awareness of Hong Fu at his side snapped him awake.
Fortunately, the Ministry of Punishments wasn’t far from the palace gates, and they arrived soon enough.
Inside the gates, they transferred to a palanquin. The young eunuch who came to receive them held a bright yellow cloak—clearly an item of the Emperor’s.
Hong Fu shook it out with a smile and draped it over Liu Yuanxun. “Though Your Highness rarely enters the palace, His Majesty always keeps you in his thoughts. He worried you might catch a chill, so he specially ordered us to bring this cloak.”
Liu Yuanxun disliked such flattery and loathed Hong Fu’s habit of exaggerating these trifles even more.
Hong Fu knew full well about the rift between him and Liu Yuanze, yet he always sugarcoated their irreparable brotherhood with honeyed words. Liu Yuanxun’s good temper didn’t make him a pushover. He had his limits—things he despised and could not abide.
Deception, lies, false affections… those repulsed him more than blood ever could.
But Hong Fu served the Emperor, so Liu Yuanxun couldn’t show his displeasure. He merely said flatly, “Onward.”
Sensing the chill in his tone, Hong Fu wisely fell silent and followed the palanquin toward Nurturing Heart Hall.
…
For Liu Yuanze, the greatest barrier between him and Liu Yuanxun had already been removed.
But he knew Liu Yuanxun appeared easygoing yet possessed an acutely perceptive mind. To avoid arousing suspicion before everything was settled, he had to maintain his usual demeanor.
Thus, despite his inner concern, his expression remained cold when they met.
From the moment Liu Yuanxun entered the hall, however, Liu Yuanze’s gaze never left him—scanning from his hairline to the hem of his robe. Only after confirming his brother was unharmed did the anxiety that had gripped him all morning begin to ease.
No sooner had Liu Yuanxun entered the palace than the Imperial Kitchen delivered the midday meal to Nurturing Heart Hall. By the time Liu Yuanxun shed his outer robe and took his seat, they could begin eating.
Liu Yuanze studied his complexion closely. The pallor of illness lingered, but it was markedly better than the deathly white of a month ago—the kind that suggested he might expire at any moment.
Relief washed over Liu Yuanze. If he had believed three parts of their supposed consummation before, he now credited seven.
With his mood lightened, his tone softened unconsciously. “Let’s eat, Xun’er,” he said, the words slipping out and evoking the closeness of their youthful days filled with brotherly laughter.
Liu Yuanxun froze, instinctively lifting his eyes to meet his.
Liu Yuanze couldn’t look away in time, and the concern and care in his gaze were laid bare for Liu Yuanxun to see.
A lump formed in Liu Yuanxun’s throat, and he turned his head away first, evading the weight of that emotion.
Pain stabbed at Liu Yuanze’s heart as well, but he reminded himself that come their Imperial Father’s death anniversary next year, the grudge between them would finally dissolve. That thought made the present ache more bearable.
Gazing at the soft crown of Liu Yuanxun’s head, he sighed softly. “Let’s eat.”
