As soon as morning court adjourned, Hong Fu rushed to the Capital Prefecture Yamen with two young eunuchs in tow.
Prefect Bai inwardly groaned but could only force a smile as he exchanged official pleasantries with Hong Fu for quite some time.
Sure enough, Hong Fu couldn’t string together three sentences without mentioning Prince Rui, and nearly every other one lamented the prince’s plight. It all seemed polite enough, but each word landed like a soft knife, twisting in Prefect Bai’s gut and churning his stomach. Though famished, he had no appetite whatsoever.
The moment Hong Fu entered the side room where Prince Rui was resting, Prefect Bai couldn’t help spitting viciously in his heart: “Filthy eunuch!”
Upon seeing Liu Yuanxun lying on the bed, Hong Fu’s eyes instantly reddened. His steps faltered as he staggered to the bedside, dropping to his knees with a thud and slumping over the edge, where he began to sob. “Master—my little master! When have you ever endured such hardship?”
Hong Fu’s dramatic collapse sent Liu Yuanxun—who had just started to sit up—tumbling back onto the bed. Unaware of this, Hong Fu assumed his master was too feeble even to rise, which only made him weep harder.
Hong Fu had served at the Emperor’s side for as long as Liu Yuanxun had known him, so some measure of affection existed between them. Yet Hong Fu’s penchant for theatrics grated on Liu Yuanxun’s nerves like a dragon’s reverse scale, filling him with irritation at every encounter. He simply couldn’t discern whether those tears were genuine.
Liu Yuanxun tugged his sleeve free from under Hong Fu’s arm and said helplessly, “I’m not dead yet. Isn’t it a bit premature to cry?”
“You mustn’t say such things!” Hong Fu’s face tensed with alarm. “Those words are most inauspicious.”
Didn’t Hong Fu know full well when he would die? Liu Yuanxun shot him a glance, smoothed his sleeve, and slowly sat up on the bed. “What brings Eunuch Hong here?”
Hong Fu looked frantic. “Little ancestor, after such a grave incident—not to mention this slave carrying the Emperor’s command—even without it, I would have hurried here to see you!”
Liu Yuanxun remained impassive. “I’m doing well enough. Eunuch Hong, you should head back.”
“That simply won’t do!” As he spoke, Hong Fu sidled closer to Liu Yuanxun and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “This slave came bearing the Emperor’s decree this time.”
With that, he clapped his hands. The two young eunuchs stepped outside and announced in ringing tones, “Eunuch Hong is conferring with Prince Rui. All irrelevant personnel, clear out at once!”
As Chief Eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial, Hong Fu was the direct superior of the Embroidered Uniform Guard. No one dared disobey; they bowed hastily and retreated to stand watch at a distance.
Hong Fu’s two young eunuchs took up positions on either side of the door, their stances solid and unwavering—clear signs of formidable martial artists.
Hong Fu knew the origins of Ling Qing and Ling Ting, so he didn’t bother dismissing them. Instead, he leaned in and whispered softly into Liu Yuanxun’s ear, “Rest assured, Your Highness. The Emperor has seen to everything. You need do nothing and fret over nothing; you simply need to…”
Liu Yuanxun usually held little regard for Hong Fu, though his expression had remained civil enough. Now even that last vestige of warmth vanished. Such chilling detachment on a face habitually wreathed in smiles carried an oppressive weight that silenced even Hong Fu, ever at the Emperor’s side.
Liu Yuanxun spoke coldly. “The Imperial Brother need not concern himself with this. I can handle it.”
Hong Fu stammered, “Th-the Emperor knows your abilities well enough, of course. But gathering proof, presenting evidence, washing away the slander—it’s all so tedious and intricate. With your condition… I’m afraid it might prove too much.”
Liu Yuanxun didn’t meet his eyes. Instead, he lowered his gaze to the quilt’s embroidery, though his words were directed at Hong Fu. “There’s nothing too much to bear. This place is hardly worse than the estate. No sense courting greater trouble just to sidestep these minor inconveniences.”
Hong Fu dimly surmised that Prince Rui simply didn’t wish to owe the Emperor another debt—or perhaps, mindful of the Emperor’s precarious throne, he sought to spare him any damaging gossip. Both notions aligned with Prince Rui’s character, yet Hong Fu couldn’t fathom this particular expression.
But with Liu Yuanxun having spoken so plainly, Hong Fu could hardly press the matter. He murmured, “Yes, yes, quite right. The Emperor is merely concerned for you…”
Liu Yuanxun said nothing.
Hong Fu sat there awkwardly for a spell. Ordinarily, his tongue ran without cease, but now an inexplicable tension gripped him, leaving him speechless.
He kept sensing he’d overlooked something—or said the wrong thing. Yet upon retracing the entire affair, everything seemed perfectly in order. The Emperor cared deeply for the prince and, upon hearing of his troubles, naturally sought to tidy them up. The methods might lack luster, but they carried no real risk.
This disquiet made the ever-smooth Hong Fu wary of opening his mouth, lest he err. Yet Prince Rui’s demeanor sowed doubts that he’d bungled his mission, stirring inevitable anxiety. After much internal debate, he ventured, “Your Highness looks unwell. Is something weighing on you?”
Liu Yuanxun finally raised his head, though his gaze fell not on Hong Fu but on the Ling siblings. “You two, step outside for now.”
Ling Ting started in surprise but nodded obediently, ushering Ling Qing out to stand guard.
Once they had gone, Liu Yuanxun turned his eyes to Hong Fu. “If I never leave this yamen, shouldn’t the Imperial Brother be the most relieved of all?”
The remark was so peculiar that Hong Fu froze, his mind whirring at top speed.
Three years prior, Liu Yuanxun had refrained from immediate self-destruction out of deference to the Late Emperor’s recent passing. The other princes had either perished or been confined, and he feared his own death would only amplify the people’s censure of Liu Yuanze.
Few grasped the perils of that fratricidal scramble among the five sons for the throne. To the world, Liu Yuanze’s ascension was all that mattered, with every prince but Liu Yuanxun meeting a grim fate.
At the time, Liu Yuanxun’s survival stood as proof that Liu Yuanze hadn’t wantonly slaughtered his kin. He’d endured four years to craft ample excuses for his eventual “death by illness,” considering Liu Yuanze’s position to the utmost degree.
Yet now this case offered a far more persuasive path to death than any “illness.” Should he perish amid its coils, the people would rejoice, and Liu Yuanze would even garner acclaim for sacrificing a kinsman for the greater good.
Liu Yuanze might not perceive his own nature, but Liu Yuanxun and Hong Fu—who had accompanied him for years—knew it full well. Before donning the brother’s mantle, Liu Yuanze was foremost an emperor.
For the sake of fraternal bonds, Liu Yuanze would neither obstruct Liu Yuanxun’s bid to clear his name nor sling mud at him deliberately. But neither would he expend effort to extricate him from this mire.
This was the Emperor’s world, after all. Sin or no sin, Liu Yuanxun’s fate lay in the Emperor’s hands. Publicly, he was a death-row inmate; privately, he could resume his life in the prince’s mansion as before. The affair profited Liu Yuanze without cost, so he had no cause to meddle.
In a flash, Hong Fu grasped it all, inwardly crying out in dismay.
The Emperor fretted over Liu Yuanxun’s suffering in the yamen; Hong Fu had seen nothing amiss in coming. Past incidents had always seen the Emperor most anxious on Liu Yuanxun’s behalf. But he’d never imagined Liu Yuanxun’s senses so acute as to detect this subtle variance.
From the moment Liu Yuanxun uttered those words, his stare had pinned Hong Fu, who drew on years of honed composure. From realization to riposte, all unfolded in an instant.
Hong Fu first feigned bafflement, then chuckled as if oblivious. “How could that be? In all the Imperial City, no one cherishes you more than the Emperor. Why would he ever wish you harm?”
Liu Yuanxun regarded him steadily, his voice even and profound. “Eunuch Hong, you know precisely what I mean.”
Hong Fu’s smile faltered for a heartbeat before he mustered the ideal mask of embarrassed chagrin—as if to say, “Why shatter the illusion?”—yet he held firm without yielding. “You’re overthinking it, Your Highness. No matter the circumstances, you’re the Emperor’s sole remaining kin. He cherishes you in his heart, after all.”
Only when these niceties began to grate did Hong Fu sigh softly, his face the picture of reluctance. “Your Highness, have you ever pondered that your every consideration for the Emperor escapes his notice? You’re so clear-eyed, yet you muddle your own standing, undervaluing your weight in his affections…”
Here, as though cornered, he shattered the pretense alongside Liu Yuanxun—and plunged the dagger home. “Even with lingering grievances between you, the Emperor would never see you besmirched by scandal. How could you imagine he prizes his reputation above all… To think so wounds him deeply.”
This time, it was Liu Yuanxun who went still.
Hong Fu was a eunuch who had clawed his way from the dregs, apprenticed early to a grand eunuch at the Late Emperor’s side as a foster son. Amid the pack of juniors vying for favor, he’d shrewdly withdrawn to tend the swaddled Liu Yuanze.
His path had been walked with death ever at his belt, forging a heart of iron.
Yet now, watching Liu Yuanxun shake off his stupor only to lower his eyes in guilt, Hong Fu felt a long-forgotten ache.
He knew Liu Yuanxun’s suspicions rang true; knew the throne loomed largest in Liu Yuanze’s soul; knew that for all Liu Yuanxun’s insight into the palace’s predators, his heart of gold still granted everyone the benefit of the doubt.
Thus the guilt over his own suppositions about Liu Yuanze; thus the courtesy extended to a habitual actor like Hong Fu; he never presumed malice in others, who repaid him with their worst.
Hong Fu’s lips quivered. He yearned to voice a sincerity: Don’t be reborn into the palace next life—it’s a man-eater, preying hardest on the purest hearts. After all, why did they say “calamities outlast a millennium”? Good folk always came up short, always lost their blessings.
But the words died unspoken. He knew they were untimely; voicing them would alert Liu Yuanxun to something amiss.
See how human sincerity proves so frail and fleeting: one heartbeat’s candor, eclipsed the next by self-interest.
With matters thus laid bare, Hong Fu could linger no longer. He glanced toward the door and said, “Little master, those two outside hail from the palace. Fine martial skills, honest to a fault. The Emperor, knowing you lack reliable hands, suggests—if you don’t object—keeping them in your service.”
Such praise as “fine martial skills” from Hong Fu’s lips bespoke true excellence. Liu Yuanxun nodded distractedly, raising no objection.
He understood full well that retaining them meant installing the Emperor’s watchful eyes at his side. Yet Hong Fu had a point: his own manpower was woefully thin. Having taken up this case, he could ill afford to neglect his safety.
The message had been delivered, and the man brought along with it. Hong Fu had no further reason to linger, so after offering a few auspicious words, he took his leave.
Once Hong Fu was gone, Liu Yuanxun let out a long sigh, his heart a tangle of mixed emotions.
Hong Fu had always possessed this uncanny ability to leave him bewildered, unable to discern who could be trusted and who could not.
He had suspected Hong Fu of lying to him, but the poison in his body had been left by that old man who had torn down the Imperial Edict List. If the old man said it was incurable, then it truly was. With his own death all but assured, there seemed little point in doubting his imperial brother any longer.
Perhaps he really had wronged Imperial Brother after all. Otherwise, why would Imperial Brother send Gu Lianzhao to tend to his health, or show him such favor in the palace time and again…
Hong Fu claimed to see things clearly, but even the most perceptive person could not peer through flesh to read a man’s heart. Sometimes, in life, it was better to remain a little muddled.
…
At dusk, Gu Lianzhao finally arrived.
He carried a bundle with him, from which emanated a faint, peculiar odor. The two eunuchs guarding the entrance raised their hands to block him and demanded coldly, “What’s in that package?”
Liu Yuanxun heard the commotion and immediately called out, “Let him in.”
Gu Lianzhao had not been inside long when Ling Ting emerged again, heading straight for the kitchen. When he returned, he carried a small medicine stove and a sand pot.
These items were innocuous enough that the two eunuchs, without needing any instruction from Liu Yuanxun, stepped aside without protest.
Some fifteen minutes later, the young maid who usually attended Prince Rui came rushing out. She dashed to the base of a tree, clutched the trunk, and began vomiting violently. She retched with her entire body shaking, her face as pale as paper. In the end, she would rather endure the cold in the courtyard than set foot back inside that room.
