Chapter 64

Prefect Bai did not know Liu Yuanxun well, but anyone who had spent time in officialdom knew that this man was the emperor’s closest brother. Offending him was as good as offending the emperor himself. Thus, even with irrefutable evidence, Prefect Bai continued to treat him with utmost courtesy.

After taking a seat, Liu Yuanxun offered a faint smile. “I know you have your difficulties, Lord Bai,” he said. “The reason I asked to meet in this side hall is that Lord Wang is too distraught over his daughter to listen to reason. I thought it best to speak with you privately.”

Judging from Wang Mingxuan’s frenzied demeanor, it was clear that he had already convicted Liu Yuanxun in his heart. Forget rational discussion—if the yamen runners had not held him back, he might have thrown his life away and lunged at Liu Yuanxun himself.

At this juncture, Liu Yuanxun was all but certain that Wang Mingxuan was a pawn pushed forward by Wang Youqi. Only a father could understand his son so intimately; only a father could strike so precisely at his son’s vulnerabilities, forcing him to risk everything and beat the Drum of Grievances.

Prefect Bai waved his hands in alarm. “I wouldn’t dare, I wouldn’t dare,” he said. “This official has served for many years, always upholding the principles of justice. If Your Highness has any grievances, please speak freely.”

Liu Yuanxun caught the evasion in his words but merely smiled calmly before getting to the point. “Has Lord Bai ever heard the name Xiao Jinye?”

“Xiao Jinye?” Prefect Bai frowned deeply, pondering for a long moment, but he drew a blank.

Liu Yuanxun offered a timely reminder. “The former Jiangnan Salt Transport Envoy. He was accused of embezzling public funds and escorted back to the capital. Because he refused to confess, he has been held in the Imperial Prison for eight long years.”

Prefect Bai might not have recalled who the former Jiangnan Salt Transport Envoy was, but the mention of eight years in the Imperial Prison jogged his memory.

Seeing that Liu Yuanxun had no apparent intention of pressuring him for favoritism, Prefect Bai’s expression eased somewhat. “Now that Your Highness mentions it, this official does have some recollection,” he said.

Liu Yuanxun nodded slightly. “My case is connected to Xiao Jinye.”

He had already stirred up this matter and visited Xiao Jinye in the Imperial Prison. Anyone who needed to know surely did by now, so there was no point in hiding it. Thus, Liu Yuanxun gave a concise account of Xiao Jinye’s case, placing special emphasis on the key element that had sealed his conviction: the Bone-Drop Kinship Test.

Prefect Bai’s heart jolted, and vague suspicions began to form, though his face remained impassive as he waited for Liu Yuanxun to spell it out. “What does Your Highness mean?”

Liu Yuanxun replied, “A few days ago, I obtained Imperial Brother’s decree to investigate this case. There is likely a grave injustice here, and the crux of it lies in this ‘Bone-Drop Kinship Test.’ From what transpired earlier, I am now certain that they possess the means to forge one.”

Prefect Bai had seen his share of bizarre cases over the years and knew that many relied on strange methods. Yet he had risen to his position by pursuing hard truths, not idle speculation. If anyone could walk free merely by spinning a tale or two, his career would be over.

But the man before him was a prince, not some desperate father like Wang Mingxuan. No matter his private thoughts, Prefect Bai kept an exceedingly respectful demeanor on the surface. “This official naturally believes Your Highness,” he said. “But without solid evidence, it will be hard to silence the crowd…”

Liu Yuanxun was ever considerate. From the moment he had entered the yamen, he had no intention of using his status to coerce Prefect Bai into releasing him.

“I won’t put you in a difficult position, my lord,” he said. “Everything can proceed by the book. The reason I asked to speak with you privately in this side hall is my sincere desire to lay my cards on the table: I truly had no hand in this matter. But I know innocence is not something that simply arrives on its own. If I am to walk out of this yamen, I will produce evidence convincing enough to sway the world. This case involves far more than meets the eye—it’s anything but simple. I have many pressing matters at hand and often need to meet with people. Moreover, my health is poor; I require medicine delivered three times a day. I must trouble you to make allowances for these things.”

From the moment Liu Yuanxun mentioned his “poor health,” Prefect Bai sensed real trouble brewing.

Truth be told, with any other case, he would have shown Liu Yuanxun some leniency. Certain lines of inquiry could be quietly dropped. Fortunately, Wang Mingxuan’s desperate bid for justice—beating the Drum of Grievances—had lightened his load considerably.

With the Drum of Grievances sounded, the case now fell under the emperor’s scrutiny from above and the public’s watchful eyes below. Sandwiching in the middle, Prefect Bai need only go through the motions, bearing no responsibility and risking no offense. He could afford to take it easy.

But he had overlooked one crucial fact: Prince Rui was the capital’s most notorious invalid. The prince had been inseparable from his medicines since childhood, and imperial edict lists seeking renowned physicians for his life-prolonging treatment appeared every few days.

A person as delicate as that fell ill even in the gilded comforts of the palace. If Prefect Bai followed protocol and locked him in the frigid main prison, the prince might well perish before the investigation concluded. And then… his entire family would face the emperor’s wrath.

Prefect Bai was impeccably upright when his own interests were not at stake. But with a knife to his neck, he suddenly found himself quite open to a little flexibility.

Stroking his beard, Prefect Bai said, “Until Your Highness produces evidence, I’m afraid you cannot leave the yamen. However, there is a side hall adjoining my office where one might rest comfortably. If Your Highness wouldn’t mind, would you consent to staying there for a few days?”

Delighted by Prefect Bai’s accommodating attitude, Liu Yuanxun returned a polite smile. “I appreciate your assistance, my lord.”

“Not at all,” Prefect Bai replied, seizing the chance to back down gracefully. “Your Highness’s words make this official realize just how grave this case is. If there was an injustice eight years ago, the waters run deep indeed. If Your Highness has any requests, just let this official know.”

As long as the prince did not set foot outside the yamen, there was no loss of face. To the uninformed, whether he lay on a cushioned bed or a prison cot made little difference.

“Since Lord Bai puts it that way,” Liu Yuanxun said, “there is one thing I must trouble you with.”

Here it comes, Prefect Bai thought, his heart tightening. He dreaded an impossible demand. “Please speak, Your Highness.”

Liu Yuanxun spoke softly. “My maidservant is still waiting outside. Would you kindly inform her to retrieve the Life-Prolonging Medicine from the hidden compartment?”

“Life-Prolonging Medicine?” Prefect Bai blinked in surprise, momentarily forgetting any offense as he scrutinized Liu Yuanxun’s face. When he saw the fine beads of sweat on the prince’s forehead and the unnatural pallor of his complexion, a chill ran down Prefect Bai’s spine.

“Yes, yes, right away—I’ll send for it at once. Your Highness, please rest first… No, let me help you to the back hall. Someone! Come here!”

Supporting Liu Yuanxun as they made their way to the back hall, Prefect Bai bellowed for a servant to relay the message.

Liu Yuanxun knew his own condition all too well and made no attempt to push himself. He leaned his full weight against Prefect Bai, allowing the prefect to guide him inside.

It was only then that Prefect Bai truly appreciated the frail body beneath those fine robes—a grown man of decent stature, yet light as a woman. In that instant, one thought dominated his mind: The prince must not die in the Capital Prefecture Yamen.

Meanwhile, upon hearing that the medicine from the hidden compartment was needed, Ling Qing grew frantic with worry and cast everything else aside. She fetched a swift horse from the yamen stables, galloped back to the mansion to retrieve the medicine, and hurried back without a moment’s delay.

…

After all, this was a major case involving a royal figure. The onlookers outside did not expect a verdict on the spot. Still, with word of the ironclad evidence and Prince Rui’s detention spreading, the gossip flowed freely.

One man muttered, “How could someone like that commit such a vile deed?”

A newcomer who had never laid eyes on the prince scoffed. “Plenty of handsome men harbor vicious hearts. If looks alone could convict, I’d have been guilty of a capital crime from the moment I was born.”

His words drew extra glances from the crowd. Seeing that he was indeed an ugly brute, the tension eased with a few chuckles.

But jests aside, the skeptics remained the majority.

Another chimed in. “The prince is no longer young, yet he has no wives or concubines. They say his household runs spotlessly clean. But no one’s a saint. He might hide unspeakable perversions behind closed doors.”

“That’s true enough. No wonder he shuns women and ger alike—he’s got those filthy tastes. Word from inside is that the Wang family’s noble daughter was only eleven when he took a fancy to her!”

“That’s beastly…” Remembering the subject was a prince after all, the speaker cut himself off, biting his tongue hard enough to grimace in pain.

“Hold on,” someone else said. “Doesn’t Prince Rui’s mansion have a concubine? I heard it’s a ger.”

“You trying to get yourself killed? Who are you to gossip about the prince’s household? Spouting nonsense before the case is cleared—your ancestors must be spinning in their graves!”

That shut down the chatter more effectively than anything else.

There was nothing new under the sun, and the Imperial City had seen scandals far uglier than this. A bit of gossip scratched the itch of curiosity, but afterward, life went on.

As the crowd dispersed, Prefect Bai inside the yamen grew pale-faced. He stared anxiously at the unconscious patient on the bed, his tone even polite toward the yellow-haired girl before him. “Miss, what happened to His Highness?”

Ling Qing was on the verge of tears, her expression far from friendly toward Prefect Bai. But she remembered her place and did not dare cause trouble for her master. Forcing a stiff politeness, she said, “You saw it yourself, my lord. My master is clearly ill.”

Stung by the soft rebuff, Prefect Bai subconsciously touched his nose. “Didn’t His Highness send you for the medicine? Why not give it to him?”

“It’s not for treating illness—it’s for sustaining life. It’s far too precious; one dose lessens the supply. We mustn’t use it except in dire need.”

As she spoke, a yamen runner knocked. “My lord, the Embroidered Uniform Guard’s North Pacification Commander, Lord Gu Lianzhao, requests an audience outside.”

“The Embroidered Uniform Guard?” Prefect Bai’s heart skipped. How was this case entangled with them? And it had to be that devil Gu…

Prefect Bai had once taken custody of a prisoner from the Imperial Prison and crossed paths with Gu Lianzhao. He had even witnessed the man interrogate a suspect firsthand. The memory alone made him swallow hard twice, choking back a surge of nausea.

But the man was waiting outside—he could not be turned away. With a dry throat, Prefect Bai said, “Then… invite him in.”

A wooden door muffled little, and with Gu Lianzhao’s profound internal force, he had heard every stir inside despite standing in the hall.

The yamen runner had just raised his hand to push the door when Gu Lianzhao, clad in his qilin court robes, strode forward and shoved it open himself.

The Embroidered Uniform Guard spent most of their time handling cases outside the capital, and their official robes were too cumbersome for action. Thus, these everyday uniforms embroidered with qilin had become symbols of their identity. No official could see them without feeling a chill, and Prefect Bai was no exception—he remembered them all too well.

“I wonder…” What business does Lord Gu have here?

Before he could finish, Gu Lianzhao brushed past him and sat on the edge of the bed. His expression was stern as he said, “The Embroidered Uniform Guard has received an imperial decree placing the custody of Prince Rui fully under my command. All irrelevant personnel are to withdraw immediately.”

These words were like a pardon to Prefect Bai. Eager to rid himself of this hot potato, he said at once, “Excellent, excellent. Thank you for your hard work, Lord Gu.”

Ling Qing pointed at herself. “What about me?”

Gu Lianzhao glanced at her, his voice softening slightly. “You wait outside for now. I’ll take care of His Highness here.”

Ling Qing let out an “oh,” reluctant though she was. She obeyed the order all the same. She had meant to hand over the medicine bottle she held, but it was far too precious. After a moment’s hesitation, she tucked it into her sleeve instead.

Gu Lianzhao had overheard her earlier words and seen her pocket the medicine. He merely asked, “Is this the medicine from the hidden compartment beside the bed in the inner chamber?”

Ling Qing started. She hadn’t expected him to know even that. Nodding, she replied, “Yes. An old gentleman left it behind—not much remains, and it’s exceedingly precious. If His Highness needs any, Lord Gu, please let me know.”

Gu Lianzhao nodded. Then, with a complicated expression, he turned his gaze to Liu Yuanxun on the bed.

So scarce, meant only to sustain life… If it was truly that precious, why waste it on the night of his wedding—for a total stranger like him?

…

Once the others had left, Gu Lianzhao propped up the sickly figure on the bed and undid his clothes.

Though Pure Yang True Qi was beneficial to Liu Yuanxun’s body, it only served to nourish his qi and blood. Running a Small Heavenly Cycle through him every one or two days was the limit; doing it too often would do more harm than good.

He had sat Liu Yuanxun up because he suspected the prince wouldn’t want to remain unconscious at this moment. Thus, he had no choice but to force him awake.

Six inches above the navel lay the Juque Acupoint. Stimulating it with internal force could open the chest, regulate the qi, invigorate the heart meridians, and rouse someone from a coma. The drawback was that excessive stimulation could damage the spirit, requiring careful recovery afterward.

If Ling Ting had been there, he certainly wouldn’t have awakened Liu Yuanxun at the cost of harming his body. But the one sitting by the bed now was Gu Lianzhao. After undoing Liu Yuanxun’s clothes, he raised two fingers, channeled his full internal force, and pressed down hard on the Juque Acupoint.

This body was debilitated to the extreme. A normal person would have woken in one or two breaths from such stimulation, but Liu Yuanxun merely lay there. His eyeballs began to tremble, and his mind cleared—yet his body was too weak to even open his eyes.

The room was one Prefect Bai used for resting; its temperature was comfortable for ordinary people, but far too cold for Liu Yuanxun.

Seeing that he had woken, Gu Lianzhao withdrew his hand. His gaze swept over the prince’s frail chest, but he made no superfluous moves. He simply tightened the clothes, propped Liu Yuanxun up from behind, and drew him into his arms.

Gu Lianzhao’s chest burned hot. Even through several layers of cloth, Liu Yuanxun felt the warmth. He slowly lifted his eyelids, his voice as soft as mist. “A’qiao… thank you.”

Gu Lianzhao gave a low hum in response. He held Liu Yuanxun steady, using his own body heat to dispel the chill from the prince’s frame while waiting for him to recover.

Awakening through forced stimulation was nothing like regaining consciousness through natural breath regulation. Liu Yuanxun was awake, but waves of stabbing pain in his mind kept him from focusing. He couldn’t even speak without the urge to vomit blood.

Fortunately, the embrace from behind was warm and comforting—a small solace amid his plight. He leaned there quietly, waiting for the pain to subside.

He and Gu Lianzhao were pressed extremely close in this intimate posture. With his head pillowed on the other man’s chest, Liu Yuanxun could clearly hear the steady heartbeat beneath his ear.

That heartbeat was healthy and vigorous, steady and full of life—like the distinct rhythm of drums, beating one after another. Envy filled Liu Yuanxun’s heart. He had never possessed such a robust body.

Stirred by that envy, he unconsciously rubbed his cheek lightly against Gu Lianzhao’s chest.

Gu Lianzhao had been gazing down at him all along. That little rub threw his heart into even greater disorder. He closed his eyes in some embarrassment, then turned his head away, shifting his gaze elsewhere.

Gradually, the stabbing pain in his mind eased, and Liu Yuanxun’s spirit recovered somewhat.

Mustering his strength, he got to the matter at hand. “A’qiao, you’ve already reviewed the dossier. The fastest way to break this stalemate is to start with the Bone-Drop Kinship Test.”

Those bones were the most crucial piece of evidence—the one true ironclad proof. If even they could be falsified, then the rest of the evidence was naturally suspect as well.

The key issue was that the Bone-Drop Kinship Test had been in circulation for many years. If there were simple ways to control whether the drops fused or not, the method would have long lost its validity.

Uncovering exactly how they had faked it would be next to impossible, but proving that the test could be faked was a feasible path.

That said, one vital link was still missing—one that Gu Lianzhao would need to forge.

“A’qiao,” Liu Yuanxun gathered his strength, reached down to find Gu Lianzhao’s hand, and gave it a light squeeze. “Whether I can leave this yamen as planned depends entirely on you.”

Gu Lianzhao understood that Liu Yuanxun saw this grip only as a gesture of trust. Yet when the prince’s hand closed over his, he couldn’t help but grip it in return.

“Very well.” Gu Lianzhao looked up at the sun sinking toward the western horizon. In a soft voice, he asked, “What do you need me to do?”

“First, dispatch experts from the Embroidered Uniform Guard right now—immediately. They must protect Wang Mingxuan without leaving his side and ensure his safety at all costs.”

“Second, you must go there yourself…”