When they flipped the body over, Ling Qing gasped in shock, blurting out, “Isn’t this Auntie Feng’s son?”
Auntie Feng had been selected as a maidservant when the prince’s manor first opened its doors. Her husband was likewise a menial servant there, and the couple had only this one son.
Unfortunately, the boy was dim-witted, no good for studying, and too easy a mark for bullies when he worked outside. The steward, seeing his honest nature, his willingness to endure hardship, and his clean background, had him assigned as a lowly sweeper in the manor.
Who could have imagined that such an ordinary little servant would seize the perfect moment to try assassinating Liu Yuanxun?
Liu Yuanxun had always disliked having people attend him up close. Only Ling Qing and Ling Ting stayed by his side. But even those two couldn’t guard him every moment. If this servant had found an opening…
Ling Qing’s face paled. She didn’t dare dwell on the consequences.
The room fell silent for a moment. Liu Yuanxun’s gaze swept over the wreckage inside before he said softly, “Ling Ting, carry the body to the study. Ling Qing, once Ling Ting removes it, have someone clean up here, then bring Auntie Feng and her husband to the study as well.”
The study had gone unused for a long time. Only after the underfloor heating had steamed away for ages did it fully dispel the chill.
Liu Yuanxun sat in the chair behind the desk, Gu Lianzhao standing to one side, Ling Ting to the other. The young servant’s corpse lay sprawled on the floor between them.
Liu Yuanxun stared quietly at the body before speaking slowly. “His attempt on my life might have been driven by a personal grudge.”
“A personal grudge?” Ling Ting asked in surprise. “How could you possibly have crossed paths with him?”
Liu Yuanxun replied, “He might have been manipulated by someone. In the instant he lunged at me with the knife, I caught a glimpse of his eyes—that was the look of someone consumed by hatred. And his lunge, his stab—they were ferocious, without a trace of the hesitation you’d expect from a first-time killer. If it wasn’t raw emotion driving him, then his hands must already be stained with other lives.”
Not long after, Ling Qing brought in the Feng couple.
Auntie Feng entered the study with her head bowed, fidgeting nervously with the hem of her clothes. It was her husband who first glimpsed the body on the floor. With a great cry, Auntie Feng finally looked up.
The sight made her collapse to the ground in an instant, trembling uncontrollably.
The crossbow bolt protruding from the back of the young man’s head was glaringly obvious. Anyone with eyes could see he was long past saving.
Uncle Feng’s legs buckled. Crawling and scrambling, he reached his son’s side. Peering close, he let out a heart-wrenching wail. “Huzi! Huzi, wake up! Huzi!”
The cry snapped Auntie Feng from her daze. Like a madwoman, she threw herself at Huzi’s side. Grief had stolen her voice; she could only clutch her son and shake him desperately, hoping against hope to rouse him. But it was all in vain.
“My lord, my lord!” Uncle Feng’s legs gave out completely, leaving him half-collapsed on the floor as he kowtowed desperately toward Liu Yuanxun. His voice was shrill, eerily piercing. “Tell me who did this! Who could be so cruel as to kill my Huzi? I’ll throw my life away to avenge him, my lord!”
Gu Lianzhao glanced down at Liu Yuanxun, awaiting a signal to step in and confess. But Liu Yuanxun didn’t look his way. He only watched the devastated couple, collapsed on the floor, and said gently, “He wanted to kill me.”
The weeping cut off abruptly. Uncle Feng and Auntie Feng both raised their heads. Uncle Feng’s eyes bulged wide. The moment realization hit, he shouted, “Impossible! Absolutely impossible!”
Auntie Feng just clutched her son, shaking harder and harder. Her lips trembled as she mumbled indistinct words, too garbled to make out.
Ling Qing stepped forward. “Auntie Feng, do you know something?”
“It’s my fault. All my fault…” Auntie Feng latched onto Ling Qing’s hand like a lifeline, her rough palms squeezing until Ling Qing’s knuckles turned white.
Ling Qing didn’t pull away. Instead, she coaxed gently, “Why do you say that?”
When it came to her son’s death, Auntie Feng finally regained her wits. Tears streaming down her face, she cried out, “There was a woman! Huzi met a woman! It was all her fault! Find her—quickly! She’s the one who harmed my boy!”
Ling Qing perked up and pressed, “What kind of woman?”
“I don’t know. Huzi never said. But I knew he’d met some woman. Ever since, he hadn’t been himself.”
Desperate to clear her son’s name, Auntie Feng racked her brains. “Huzi was always a hot-headed lad—no girl would give him the time of day. But a few days ago, I smelled perfume on him. And there were marks on his body. He started acting strange, muttering to himself. Once, he even said…”
She knew it was a crime punishable by death, but to get the prince to hunt down that woman, Auntie Feng no longer cared. “Huzi said you deserved to die, my lord. I was terrified and told him to shut his mouth. But he wouldn’t say more, no matter how I asked. I thought the boy was just talking nonsense again, so I let it go. If only I’d pressed him—if I’d asked just one more time… He’s my only son…”
With that, Auntie Feng burst into fresh sobs. Uncle Feng pounded the floor, howling, “Why didn’t you say anything? How could you not even mention something this big!”
Was it such a big deal?
Before Feng Hu truly lunged at Liu Yuanxun with that knife, who would have paid any mind to such a simple-minded youth?
In everyone’s eyes, Feng Hu was just a harmless, dim-witted fellow. He might spout silly things now and then, but who could have dreamed he’d actually dare to try murder?
Liu Yuanxun gazed at the scene with lowered eyes and sighed softly. To Gu Lianzhao, he said, “From the look of Auntie Feng, she doesn’t know much. Ling Ting and Ling Qing aren’t suited for investigations. I leave this to you.”
Gu Lianzhao, eager for some fresh air to clear his head, agreed at once and headed to the servants’ quarters.
Once Gu Lianzhao had gone, Ling Qing led away the Feng couple, who had wept themselves nearly unconscious. The vast study was left empty, save for Liu Yuanxun and Ling Ting.
Liu Yuanxun leaned back with his eyes closed, his voice hoarse. “My head hurts a bit. Help me rub it.”
Seeing his pallor, Ling Ting hurried behind him. He removed the prince’s hair crown and massaged the pressure points on his scalp with practiced skill.
In just two short days, Ling Ting felt as if the distance between him and Liu Yuanxun had grown vast. Touching him now felt like reaching across worlds.
Liu Yuanxun kept his eyes shut, his head pillowed on the chair’s cushion. His dark hair spilled loose, the pale curve of his neck still bruised. He sat in silence, trying to connect the tangled threads in his mind.
Feng Hu was practically born into servitude. His parents both worked in the manor, and he’d never touched drink, women, or gambling. Straightforward and slow-witted, with a spotless background, he’d spent his youth almost entirely in the servants’ quarters. Others might not have liked him much, but they trusted him implicitly.
A man like that wouldn’t hate Liu Yuanxun for no reason—wouldn’t risk his life without cause. Yet someone like him was also the perfect mark: easily targeted, manipulated, turned into a pawn.
Feng Hu was a person.
But to some, he was just a chess piece.
The wails of the Feng couple echoed in Liu Yuanxun’s ears once more, distant then near, shrill and unending. The illusory cries scraped at his eardrums like sharp blades, wearing him down.
He disliked close attendants for good reason.
Born into the imperial family, he was inevitably dragged into all sorts of conflicts. He wasn’t the sort to rule with an iron fist, and he couldn’t control every disloyal heart swayed by bribes or threats. Some became others’ spies, some their blades. Those people died or were exiled, and his retinue cycled through batch after batch.
In the end, he’d purged everyone but the Ling siblings.
Now, with Imperial Brother ascended to the throne and Imperial Father passed, he was just a powerless prince. Who would want him dead?
The answer was obvious.
Aside from that zither score and that painting, he held nothing else that could threaten anyone.
With the Imperial Sword of Authority now in hand and an Imperial Token to boot, no matter how deep the waters, he had to wade in.
…
The moment Gu Lianzhao stepped out of the study, snow began to fall in thick flurries. He walked unhurriedly, but the snow came down fast. By the time he reached the steward’s quarters, a heavy layer blanketed him.
Summoning people, interrogating, searching Feng Hu’s quarters…
It all proceeded smoothly, and he even uncovered faint traces of the woman. But his heart was in turmoil.
From the crash of porcelain in the room to his return, arming the crossbow in his sleeve—it had all happened in a heartbeat. Yet he couldn’t shake it off.
In his brief seventeen years, he’d never felt anything like that instant. His calculating mind had blanked for the first time. The skills he prided himself on had lagged, filling him with dread.
His scalp tingled, his body rigid, as if flung naked into an icy abyss—chilled to the bone in moments.
Only when he clutched Liu Yuanxun tight, burying his face in the prince’s shoulder, tears spilling unbidden, did he recognize it: fear.
In his short eighteen years, he’d seen fear twist countless faces. But feeling it himself, he finally understood its taste.
No wonder those wretches in the Imperial Prison soiled themselves from fear, cast aside all dignity. Fear could shatter the mind in an instant, bending a man to submission.
That surge of emotion had brought hot tears, but cold reason followed: surrender, and he’d end up like those broken souls.
He walked back to report to Liu Yuanxun, letting wind and snow soak through. The knife-like pain brought a strange thrill, the bone-deep cold sharpening his wits.
Nearing the study, he looked up and realized it was already midnight, the moon high.
The moon hung like a curved blade, casting soft, cold light over the world. It seemed gentle, but ice-cold to the touch.
Gu Lianzhao stood gazing upward, lost in a daze.
Suddenly, Liu Yuanxun seemed like that moon—high in the night sky, forever out of reach.
One might glimpse his reflection in water and think the moon could be held. But a ripple, and it was gone.
With a soft creak, Ling Ting opened the study door. Liu Yuanxun, cloaked in a white greatcoat, stepped lightly over the threshold.
