Chapter 67: Status Part 1

Pei Zhou was so angry that he almost flipped the table over.

“How did he escape? Huh? Not even a team of imperial guards could stop him. Did he grow wings and fly to the heavens?”

He paced anxiously around the room, stubble sprouting on his face, his entire body exuding a weary world-weariness from days of overwork and exhaustion, red bloodshot veins in his eyes.

Wei Tingxia feared he might pass out from anger in one breath, so he waved at the side. A burly and robust female servant immediately rushed forward, supporting Pei Zhou’s arm with a hand like a palm-leaf fan, her voice booming like a copper bell right by his ear.

“General Pei, please sit down first!”

Being supported by a woman taller than himself, Pei Zhou stiffened, his gaze freezing. He slowly sat down, while uncomfortably shaking off her hand.

“No harm,” he glanced at the retreating female servant and turned to Yan Xinfeng for confirmation, “…the hammer-swinging one?”

Yan Xinfeng nodded. He could finally get out of bed and walk a few steps now, his complexion much better than before, without that deathly pallor from earlier.

He and Wei Tingxia sat side by side in the chairs in the front hall, Wei Tingxia on the left seat, him on the right—a lord’s position and a lady’s position—which made Pei Zhou’s eyelids twitch.

The female servant returned to stand in the corner. Wei Tingxia casually added, “She doesn’t know where Prince Jin is. Even if she truly harbored killing intent, she couldn’t do anything about it. Better to hold position and stick to her duties.”

Pei Zhou: “…”

“Never mind that,” he crossed his legs, “Do you two even grasp how dire the situation is right now?”

Wei Tingxia also propped up his legs: “Not really. Why don’t you explain?”

At that, Pei Zhou shot Yan Xinfeng a gloomy glare, meaning you won’t rein him in? Yan Xinfeng lowered his eyes slightly, pretending not to see.

“I’ll say it if I have to.”

Wei Tingxia raised his hand to dismiss the attendants around them. Once the room held only the three of them, Pei Zhou took a deep breath and tried to keep his tone steady: “You saw the situation. Prince Chen is under house arrest, the Emperor is furious and has ordered a full investigation. Prince Jin disappears at a time like this—what’s that about?”

Yan Xinfeng pushed aside the cup, his voice calm: “Did he run off on his own, or was he taken?”

“Does it matter?” Pei Zhou retorted, a vein faintly bulging at his temple. “How he left doesn’t matter at all. What matters is where he is now!”

Talking about it made him anxious again, several stray hairs escaping his bun.

Wei Tingxia followed up: “The last person to vanish from a prince’s mansion like this turned up hundreds of li away, starting a rebellion in a small city.”

“Right,” Pei Zhou nodded repeatedly, “And the one before that was found in a well.”

Disappearances never meant good news. Was Prince Jin dead or alive now? If dead, where? If alive, where?

Pei Zhou was temporarily handling the city’s defenses for Prince Chen, and now he had a head full of troubles.

Yan Xinfeng asked again: “Didn’t Prince Jin’s consort say anything?”

Pei Zhou shook his head.

“The Emperor sent people to ask. She started crying the moment they did, crying with everyone in the mansion, men and women alike, fainting several times.”

“Crying like that?” Wei Tingxia was surprised.

“Who says otherwise? I reckon even if she knew something, it wasn’t much. No one could fake that sky-falling look.”

Yan Xinfeng did not deny Pei Zhou’s speculation and said flatly, “The current Prince Jin’s consort is the Emperor’s granted second wife. She and Prince Jin have only one daughter together; the other children in the mansion are all from the previous consort. It’s only natural they’re not close.”

That made things even more troublesome.

“Who else might know?” Pei Zhou asked in confusion. “I’ve checked every well in the city.”

A second-rank general, leading men to scour wells day and night—it was driving him mad, entering water into his brain. How had his life become so bitter?

He looked at Yan Xinfeng, then at Wei Tingxia, and finally settled his gaze on Wei Tingxia.

Facing such an expectant look, Wei Tingxia uncomfortably lowered his legs. “Actually, there’s one person who might know.”

Pei Zhou instantly straightened up: “Who?”

“Prince Chen.”

The straightened body slumped back into the chair.

Pei Zhou: “Of course he knows, but he won’t say.”

“Did you ask?”

“He’s under house arrest right now. The Emperor decreed no visitors. How could I ask?”

At that, Wei Tingxia, who had been lounging lazily in the lord’s seat, finally stood up slowly.

“Since you haven’t asked, I’ll go ask.”

With that, he chuckled, seemingly quite looking forward to the meeting.

Pei Zhou instinctively felt he was out for personal revenge and inwardly agreed, but his mouth still asked: “So how do you plan to meet him?”

Wei Tingxia did not answer, only smiling at Yan Xinfeng, who had been silent since earlier, as if waiting for him to speak.

And right then, an urgent report came from outside the mansion:

“Marquis, His Majesty summons you to the palace at once!”

……

……

Lately, Prince Chen’s mansion was so quiet that even the flutter of birds’ wings could be heard.

The prince consort sat under the corridor, having a female servant apply petal nail decorations to her hand while subtly listening to the imperial guards changing shifts outside the wall.

“How many days has it been?” she asked the person beside her.

Another maidservant knelt halfway and whispered, “Replying to the prince consort, it’s been seven days already.”

Already that many days?

Ever since the assassination attempt on the Emperor at the Empress Dowager’s birthday banquet, where Yan Xinfeng took a blade for him, Prince Chen had been confined to the mansion—exactly seven days.

“No idea when this will end,” He Chenshu withdrew her hand, bored. “Is the prince still holed up alone in the study?”

“Yes,” the female servant replied. “The prince eats and sleeps in the study. Anyone who goes in gets thrown out.”

He Chenshu frowned: “Why is his temper so bad?”

She rose and walked toward the side corridor, wanting to check on her sulking husband, but a child who came running from the side hugged her waist.

“Mother!”

The child was not even as tall as He Chenshu’s waist, small and soft-voiced.

Seeing him, He Chenshu involuntarily smiled: “How did Jing’er come out?”

The nanny who followed him hurriedly answered: “The young heir missed the prince and prince consort.”

He Chenshu said nothing at that, coaxed the child for a bit, then called a maidservant to take him to play in the nearby garden.

Once they left, she slowly stood up, the amiable smile vanishing from her face. She asked coldly: “Does the heir not know what time it is? Don’t you know either?”

The nanny paled in shock and collapsed to her knees: “Forgive me, prince consort! This old servant didn’t think that far—forgive me…”

She kowtowed while speaking, soon drawing blood. Her incoherent pleas mixed with dull thuds, her forehead quickly reddening. Yet everyone around, including He Chenshu herself, watched coldly, unmoved.

He Chenshu’s lips curved in a mocking arc, her eyes a deep, bottomless cold pool: “Seeing the mansion’s fortunes decline, you even dare ignore my rules? Your guts have grown quite fat.”

“This old servant dares not! Absolutely not!”

The wretched pleas earned no pity, only adding to He Chenshu’s irritation. She waved impatiently, ordering the house guards on either side to drag away the eyesore old servant.

But at that moment, a sharp, piercing proclamation rang out from the door, carrying immense penetrating power like a death knell:

“By His Majesty’s decree—! Open the gates—!”

The voice bore an unquestionable imperial majesty, instantly shattering the tense silence in the mansion.

He Chenshu whipped around, her heart pounding. Under her gaze, the mansion gates, shut for seven days, were slowly pushed open from outside…

The gates swung wide.

Beyond Prince Chen’s consort’s expectations, it was not the usual procession of eunuchs delivering the decree outside.

What met her eyes was a dense mass of stern soldiers, their cold iron armor glinting ominously in the twilight, countless drawn long sabers and swords flashing with chilling light, sealing the entire gate.

The air was thick with suffocating scents of rust and blood, the wind itself stilled.

In that instant, He Chenshu felt her breath hitch. She knew all too well what this scene meant.

Perhaps the Emperor could no longer tolerate them. Perhaps he would bear the infamy of exterminating kin to deal with them. Or perhaps…

But just as her despair peaked, a figure slowly stepped out from behind the soldiers and stood at the center of the gate.

The man wore a plain long robe, his figure slender and tall like a lone straight bamboo, utterly out of place amid the surrounding weapons and horses, yet oddly suppressing the soldiers’ killing aura, becoming the center of everything.

The light from outside outlined his silhouette, tall and jade-like, silent.

He Chenshu was certain she had never seen this face, but the gaze he turned on her felt like they were old acquaintances.

The man at the gate reached out to take the decree from the eunuch’s hand, stepped forward over the threshold into the mansion. He Chenshu snapped awake and knelt: “May Your Majesty be well. This consort He Chenshu awaits the imperial decree.”

“By His Majesty’s order, I am to meet privately with Prince Chen. Prince consort—”

The voice from above paused, carrying a strange familiarity. “Where is Prince Chen?”

He Chenshu held her breath and replied softly: “Due to the banquet incident, the prince has been distraught lately, constantly anxious and regretful. He has fallen ill and cannot come out to receive the decree.”

Wei Tingxia raised a brow: “Fallen ill?”

“Yes!”

“No matter. I’ll see him myself.” Wei Tingxia crouched down. Instead of proclaiming as usual, he directly handed the decree to He Chenshu. “It’s been some time since I last saw the prince consort… Prince consort, receive the decree!”

They were strangers—when had they met?

As He Chenshu puzzled over his identity and received the decree, her gaze inadvertently fell on Wei Tingxia’s smiling eyes. Suddenly, the voice sounded exceptionally familiar. She racked her brain, then her eyes flew wide, exclaiming: “It’s you!”

She recognized it.

Half a month ago. Jade Peak Temple.

That Daoist.

“—It’s you!!”

He Chenshu understood everything now. From the start, she and Li Ji had been set up. She had been used by the man before her, while Li Ji became someone else’s stepping stone.

How foolish they had been, husband and wife!

Seeing she grasped the full story, the smile in Wei Tingxia’s eyes deepened with affection.

He pushed the imperial decree forward a bit, his tone gentle: “Prince consort, no divination can bridge life and death. But the iron brush of history spans a thousand autumns. You should indeed think about how to meet a good end.”

He Chenshu’s fingers trembled as she took the imperial edict, kowtowing deeply: “This consort receives the decree and thanks for the grace!”

…

Li Ji, in the study, had heard the entire exchange.

When Wei Tingxia pushed the door open, he was half-lying on the floor, playing chess against himself.

In the dim corner of the room, several potted plants deprived of sunlight were nearly withered. As light entered, dust floated in the air.

The guards closed the door behind them. Wei Tingxia walked slowly to the chessboard, kicked away a few pieces scattered on the floor, and spoke flatly: “It seems Prince Chen already heard the commotion outside.”

“With Physician Wei making such a racket outside, it’d be hard not to hear.” Li Ji tossed a chess piece onto the board and looked up at Wei Tingxia provocatively. “What, here to avenge your master?”