Chapter 30

From the moment they had passed through Lin’an Street and heard about this supposed suicide, the matter was destined never to be laid to rest so easily.

The coroner, having steadied his nerves, returned to the autopsy room. He picked up his tools and, following Gu Lianzhao’s instructions, shaved the body hair from the lowly servant’s groin. Sure enough, several densely packed red spots appeared on the outer kidney. Gritting his teeth against the revulsion, he reached out and pinched at them. The sensation made him want to retch even as a chill ran through his own loins and cold sweat beaded on his back.

After examining the lower body, Gu Lianzhao instructed him to shave the servant’s head as well.

Having witnessed the previous procedure, the coroner was utterly convinced of Gu Lianzhao’s expertise in autopsy work. Ignoring all rules and propriety, he immediately sharpened his razor and set to work on the hair.

The gleaming blade scraped against the scalp with a few swift rasps, sending long strands of black hair tumbling to the floor. But when he reached the crown of the head, the razor caught on something, nearly slicing into the corpse’s skin.

The coroner let out a startled “Eh?” He ran his fingers carefully over the scalp near the blade, and as he probed, his face drained of color. His voice began to tremble. “The head… there are needles in the head too… so many needles…”

Liu Yuanxun had turned to watch during the shaving. Hearing this, how could he fail to understand the truth?

If Gu Lianzhao had made any mistake that leaked word of their actions, their target would have been one of the shop’s waiters, not a kitchen drudge. Moreover, after tormenting the man, they hadn’t hidden the body quietly—instead, they had hanged him in plain view on the bustling Lin’an Street, a brazen display of arrogance.

They weren’t gambling that no one would discover the true cause of death. This was a warning to everyone watching or meddling in the affair: they feared nothing, held nothing back. Even under the Emperor’s feet in the Imperial City, crossing them would lead to this fate.

It was…

Arrogance that bred nothing but contempt.

“If they dared to do it, they shouldn’t fear the investigation,” Liu Yuanxun said. He gave the corpse one last look before asking, “What was his name? Does he have any family?”

Sensing this might be a major case, the coroner spilled everything he knew. “His name was Zhao Xiaozhu. He started as a beggar. Three years ago, he helped the proprietor of the Nameless Residence recover a lost ledger by chance, which got him hired on as a servant.”

Liu Yuanxun didn’t know if the name was real, but he committed it to memory. It would appear on the confession papers in due time.

He stepped past the coroner and headed out. As he passed Gu Lianzhao, he said, “A’Qiao, drive the carriage. We’re entering the palace.”

He had no idea what the zither score deliverer’s true motives were, but if this was a clash between rival factions, betting on Liu Yuanxun was a shrewd move.

His lack of personal stake was one thing; his status as Prince Rui was the foundation of his power in the world.

The Imperial City was a nest of intrigue and shifting winds, where a single misstep could mean death without a grave. Everyone lived in dread of getting tangled in trouble. If this case had fallen to anyone else, they would have dropped it by now, no matter what. But not Liu Yuanxun.

It wasn’t just for Liu San. He was Prince Rui, second only to the Emperor in the Imperial City. Only the heavens above him could overpower him.

As the Emperor’s brother, no one in the world could threaten him except His Majesty himself. On a personal level, he and Liu Yuanze were brothers; with forces stirring up storms in the Imperial City, it fell to him to ease his brother’s burdens. On a public level, he was the Prince of Tianyong, the Emperor’s right arm. If anyone thought they could flout the law and bully others with their influence, they’d first have to see if the Emperor allowed it.

What did their arrogance matter? What did their backing matter? If they couldn’t topple the heavens, they would kneel in the dust sooner or later, confessing their crimes honestly.

…

Hong Fu’s heart hadn’t known a moment’s peace all day.

In the morning, he received word that Prince Rui was entering the palace. He had hoped the Prince would keep the Emperor company and chat with him, looking forward to it eagerly. But by noon, Xiao Luzi reported that the Prince had urgent business and wouldn’t come.

Disappointed at first, Hong Fu then breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the Emperor fuming over court affairs. Better if he didn’t come—the Emperor was in a foul mood, and any bickering with the Prince might escalate.

But no sooner had he relaxed than word came that Prince Rui was entering the palace after all.

Poor Hong Fu had scurried about all morning, and now, as the palace gates were about to lock, he had to hurry out to greet him.

Spotting Prince Rui’s sedan from afar, Hong Fu plastered on a fawning smile. He hunched his back, tiptoed forward like a slippery old tomcat, and approached.

Up close, he realized the one driving the sedan wasn’t Ling Ting, but Gu Lianzhao.

Surprised, he glanced at Gu Lianzhao and sighed inwardly at his “clever maneuvers.” In just a month, he had replaced Ling Ting as the Prince’s driver to and from the palace.

Gu Lianzhao sat high on the carriage, towering over Hong Fu. His downcast gaze was deep and inscrutable as ink, heavy with unspoken meaning. But when Hong Fu looked closely, he saw only docile obedience on that eerily beautiful face.

Gu Lianzhao was now the Prince’s man, no longer under the Eastern Depot Commander’s thumb, so he owed Hong Fu no salute. Yet, out of the Prince’s sight, he cupped his fists in respect.

His stance was clear. Even as Prince Rui’s consort, he knew who he truly relied on and pledged loyalty to.

Whether that favor was genuine or not, his display of deference showed he still craved power in the Embroidered Uniform Guard. As long as he did, there was room to maneuver in this marriage.

Hong Fu returned the gesture with an imperceptible nod, then lifted the curtain and simpered forward obsequiously. “Your Highness, this old slave has been waiting on stars and moons alike to see you enter the palace. I’m so thrilled I feel years younger!”

He piled on the auspicious flattery, but Liu Yuanxun ignored it entirely, not even bothering to glance his way. His expression was grave and somber.

Evidently, the Prince had serious business this time…

Reading the situation, Hong Fu cut the chatter and simply escorted Liu Yuanxun toward the Imperial Study.

The walk wasn’t long, but Liu Yuanxun had been out for half the day, with no rest since noon. By now, his body was at its limit. Sweat beaded on his forehead after just a few steps.

Gu Lianzhao had been trailing a step behind, leaving the spot at Liu Yuanxun’s side to Hong Fu. But seeing the Prince’s steps falter, he hesitated only a moment before taking over from Hong Fu. One arm wrapped around Liu Yuanxun’s waist, the other steadying his elbow, half-carrying him in an embrace.

Even through the heavy outer robes, Gu Lianzhao could feel the fragility of that frame. A faint plum fragrance wafted up briefly before scattering on the wind, leaving him momentarily dazed.

Liu Yuanxun didn’t resist, leaning into the support with natural ease. After all, in the many nights unknown to him, his body had long grown accustomed to Gu Lianzhao’s warmth and scent.

Hong Fu took in the scene and recognized the genuine closeness Liu Yuanxun felt toward him.

Winning closeness with Gu Lianzhao was easy enough; the hard part was avoiding the Prince’s disgust or rejection. Achieving this much earned him three more points of respect in Hong Fu’s eyes.

With Gu Lianzhao’s support, the rest of the way passed easily. A quarter-hour later, the plaque of the Imperial Study loomed ahead.

The Emperor had given strict orders: when Prince Rui entered the study, no idlers or servants were allowed inside. This time was no exception.

As soon as Liu Yuanxun arrived, Hong Fu could only wait in the outer chamber. Gu Lianzhao lacked even the qualification to wait inside.

“By the way,” Liu Yuanxun said, turning back to Hong Fu just before entering. “Eunuch Hong, have someone take A’Qiao to a side hall to rest. The wind is strong outside, and I don’t know how long my talk with the Emperor will last. It wouldn’t do to have him standing at the door the whole time.”

“This old slave will arrange it at once.” Eunuch Hong nodded with a beaming smile and was about to summon a young eunuch when Liu Yuanxun turned back again, his tone a mix of reminder and warning. “Gu Lianzhao is one of my prince’s household now, Eunuch Hong. Don’t think you can bully him just because you’re the Eastern Depot Commander.”

“Oh dear! Little Master, this old slave knows full well whose man he is. How would I dare?” In his fluster, Hong Fu slipped into the old form of address from his youth.

Liu Yuanxun shot him a glance, then turned to Gu Lianzhao. “Act as if you’re in the prince’s mansion—no need for formalities. If anyone bullies you, come straight to me.”

Gu Lianzhao paused slightly, then nodded gently.

His expression showed no undue familiarity, yet it wasn’t overly distant. At first glance, he seemed aloof; only on closer inspection did a faint softness appear in his eyes and brows.

Hong Fu withdrew his appraising gaze and thought to himself: So the Prince falls for this sort of thing…

Once Liu Yuanxun was out of sight, Gu Lianzhao swept back his robes and knelt. “This subordinate is incompetent. We still haven’t consummated with the Prince, though his attitude has softened somewhat. At least he now allows me to attend him closely.”

“Get up, get up.” Eunuch Hong’s face lit with a friendly smile as he bent to help him rise, praising him effusively. “You’re doing splendidly. We servants have only one duty: to serve our masters well. If the master needs you and cares for you, that’s the greatest honor there is.”

Probably no other servant wore such pride in his station quite like Hong Fu.

Gu Lianzhao sneered inwardly but kept a respectful face. Respect was respect, but he offered no sycophantic agreement. Flattery had to be measured; overdo it, and it backfired.

…

Inside the Imperial Study.

Liu Yuanze pinched the bridge of his nose and glanced down at the kneeling figure. Wearily and irritably, he said, “What is it now?”

His mood was foul; he could mask it somewhat before the court officials, but with Liu Yuanxun, three parts anger became eight. He could barely hold it back.

In the past, a sharp tone from him would provoke an even sharper retort from Liu Yuanxun, and the brothers would end up quarreling.

But today was official business, so Liu Yuanxun ignored the Emperor’s sour temper and said gravely, “Your Majesty, this minister has a matter to report.”

Liu Yuanze took a sip of tea and waved a hand. “Speak.”

Liu Yuanxun said, “I wish to investigate a case in the Imperial Prison.”

The mention of the Imperial Prison made Liu Yuanze assume it involved Gu Lianzhao again, souring his mood further.

He had arranged the marriage himself and pushed Gu Lianzhao on his brother. Yet seeing Liu Yuanxun seemingly bewitched by the man’s beauty, with Gu Lianzhao at the center of everything, made the union grate on him.

With a dark expression, Liu Yuanze said, “What? Is Taichang Temple not big enough for you? Or has something in the Imperial Prison bewitched you?”

Liu Yuanxun was long accustomed to his brother’s odd temperament.

There was good reason for their close relationship.

As crown prince and now Emperor, Liu Yuanze maintained a facade of stern dignity and mirthless gravity in public. But in private, his nature was peculiar. Whenever his mood soured, his words turned barbed, laced with sarcasm and biting wit. Only his younger brother could stroke his feathers smooth and calm him down.

In the past, Liu Yuanze would summon him to the palace every so often on some pretext. Liu Yuanxun knew his brother missed him and wanted to see him. But he also understood that such longing led nowhere.

He couldn’t abandon his Consort Mother, nor could he ask Liu Yuanze to set aside his hatred. Since tragedy was inevitable, deepening their bond would only amplify the pain.

That was why he resisted their meetings, refused to see him, even felt repulsed by Liu Yuanze summoning him on a mere whim without a second thought. It always provoked Liu Yuanze’s fury and struck at his most sensitive nerves, all because he himself wanted nothing more than to leave as quickly as possible.

But now, with serious business at hand, he had no choice but to adopt his former demeanor—solemn and earnest as he petitioned Liu Yuanze for authority.

“Your Majesty,” Liu Yuanxun said, tilting his head up to meet his gaze with utmost sincerity. “I want to reopen the investigation into Xiao Jinye’s case. You must help me.”

“Xiao Jinye?” Liu Yuanze set down his teacup and frowned. “What connection do you have to him?”

“It’s a complicated matter. I don’t have any solid leads yet, so there’s not much I can say. But I have a feeling it’s far from simple—it might even implicate high-ranking court officials. So…”

The words “high-ranking court officials” made Liu Yuanze’s brow twitch. He instinctively wanted to refuse. No one knew Liu Yuanxun’s fragile health better than he did. Involving himself in something like this would drain him mentally and physically, and it could very well cost him his life.

Yet his lips parted twice before he forced out a dry, jesting remark. “The palace gates are locked for the night anyway. Why not pay a visit to the House of Joy? Once you’ve had your fun, I’ll grant you the Imperial Sword of Authority tomorrow. Kill whoever you uncover as the culprit.”

It sounded like a joke, but only Liu Yuanze understood the deeper meaning concealed within. It hid his betrayal of the Consort Mother, his anguish over his own flesh and blood, and a faint glimmer of hope for Liu Yuanxun’s survival…

He wanted him to accept, yet dreaded that he would.

But when Liu Yuanxun’s time drew perilously near, panic had seized him.

And this time…

It would be the last, Liu Yuanze thought as he gently closed his eyes.

If Liu Yuanxun refused even now, he would truly wash his hands of it, bow to fate, and interfere no longer.

Just as he braced for an answer to this heartfelt plea masked as humor—one he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear—Liu Yuanxun responded with grave seriousness. “Do you mean that?”

Liu Yuanze’s eyes snapped open. He stared fixedly at the young man kneeling before him and enunciated each word deliberately. “Are you certain?”

Liu Yuanxun had no inkling of the weight behind those words. His mind was fixed solely on the investigation and the innocents who had died. He nodded at once. “I am.”

Liu Yuanze went rigid for a moment, then his entire body seemed to deflate. He leaned slowly back into the dragon throne, half his face slipping into the shadows of the dim light. At last, in a voice so soft it was scarcely audible, he murmured, “Very well, then. Go.”