Hearing his own name called out, Xiao Jinye merely lifted his gaze to glance at Liu Yuanxun before lowering his head again without a flicker of interest, as though nothing in the outside world had anything to do with him.
The cells in the Imperial Prison were cages forged from iron bars as thick as a man’s wrist. There was no escape to the heavens above or the earth below; the sole exit was a cell door secured by a massive lock of profound iron.
Gu Lianzhao hung the lantern on the wall bracket beside the door, then drew out a key and unlocked it.
The cell interior was dim. The lantern’s faint glow illuminated only a small patch of ground. Liu Yuanxun stepped slowly inside, approaching Xiao Jinye one measured step at a time before crouching down gradually in front of him.
Gu Lianzhao leaned against one side of the cell door, his posture seemingly casual. Yet his eyes remained fixed on Liu Yuanxun the entire time. That short distance would be more than enough for him to intervene if Xiao Jinye so much as twitched.
Liu Yuanxun’s peculiar actions finally drew Xiao Jinye’s attention. He craned his neck laboriously, forcing his face upward. Through the pus-oozing sores that blanketed it, Liu Yuanxun could see him narrow his eyes slightly.
Confined to the Imperial Prison for eight years, Xiao Jinye likely had no idea who he was. Liu Yuanxun spoke first. “I’m Liu Yuanxun.”
Upon learning that his visitor was none other than the noble Prince Rui, Xiao Jinye still said nothing. He simply stared silently at Liu Yuanxun with those murky eyes.
There was something odd about his gaze—no trace of fear or hatred. He sat there utterly devoid of vitality, less a living man than a weathered stump of wood, long forgotten by time and stripped of all emotion.
Liu Yuanxun met his eyes for a long while, until Xiao Jinye’s strength finally ebbed and his head drooped once more. Only then did he begin to recount recent events in a measured tone.
“I’ve come into possession of something lately, and it’s pulled me into a matter of unknown depths. You’re the only clue I’ve managed to grasp.”
At those words, Xiao Jinye slowly raised his head for another look. He remained silent, but a new glint entered his eyes—something that hadn’t been there before.
Liu Yuanxun pressed on. “I have no idea what secrets this place holds or what the ultimate truth might be. I can’t even confirm that the thing in question points to you at all. For all I know, none of this has anything to do with me. And yet, here I am. Before coming, I obtained an imperial decree and reviewed your file.”
Liu Yuanxun regarded him steadily. “It’s like unraveling a chain of riddles—one solved leads straight to the next. If you are that next link, then what answer do you hold?”
Xiao Jinye finally spoke. His voice was ghastly, a ruined rasp as though his throat had once been seared by swallowed coals or torn wide open, each word bubbling with a guttural wheeze.
“Why…” he murmured softly, “if this has nothing to do with Your Highness, why come to the Imperial Prison? Simple curiosity?”
Liu Yuanxun replied gravely. “Because many people have already died because of it.”
Xiao Jinye seemed to smile, though his grotesquely twisted face rendered the expression indistinct. He spoke slowly. “Yet if Your Highness keeps digging, I’m afraid far more will perish.”
Liu Yuanxun’s spirits lifted at that.
He had steeled himself for this possibility, but Xiao Jinye’s words all but confirmed Gu Lianzhao’s suspicion: the Ye Jinxiao named on that painting was indeed the Xiao Jinye locked away in this prison.
By now, Xiao Jinye’s view of him—and how he responded—could very well determine the path forward. Liu Yuanxun sensed keenly that the man was probing his resolve and principles with this question.
The answer came without hesitation. “But if we stop investigating now, even more will die.”
Xiao Jinye followed up at once. “Has Your Highness truly weighed this? Leave it alone, and no number of deaths touches you. Pursue it, and from here on, every corpse will bear your name.”
Liu Yuanxun understood. This was a test of conscience.
His face serene, he answered methodically. “From a utilitarian standpoint, the wicked must die, lest the good suffer endlessly. Sacrificing a few lives to safeguard the many is justifiable by those moral calculations.”
He paused briefly before continuing. “From the standpoint of righteousness itself, though, no life can be measured against another. One soul weighs as much as ten thousand; we have no right to price them and pick which to discard.”
Xiao Jinye pressed further. “And from Your Highness’s own standpoint?”
The question echoed the classic dilemma: whether to slay one with your own hand to save ten others, or stand by and let fate claim them all.
Endless arguments could be made in the abstract. But viewed through the lens of the self, it was a conundrum without any flawless resolution.
Even Gu Lianzhao, who had observed from the sidelines in silence, straightened imperceptibly, awaiting Liu Yuanxun’s reply.
Liu Yuanxun smiled instead. “I have no standpoint.”
Gu Lianzhao froze. So did Xiao Jinye.
Unhurried, Liu Yuanxun elaborated. “I told you from the start: I stumbled upon something and got swept into this affair. One death after another propelled me here. I’ve never taken a side. I’m merely a willing pawn in someone else’s game—offering up my resources, bending to their designs, until I stand before you. If death is a debt, it doesn’t fall on the charging soldiers or the scheming generals. It clings to the desire that kindled this whole conflict at its root.”
With a faint smile toward Xiao Jinye, he added, “So, Lord Xiao—as the stand-in general for the battle ahead, where do you say we make our next move?”
Xiao Jinye laughed for real this time. A jagged, piercing cackle tore from his ravaged throat, swelling louder as it reverberated off the cramped cell walls.
“I finally… cough cough… I finally see why they picked you… cough cough…” Violent coughs wracked him, his body shuddering with the force of it.
He seemed on the verge of reaching out to pat Liu Yuanxun’s hand but lifted his right arm on instinct. That was when Liu Yuanxun glimpsed the savage stump, severed clean at the shoulder.
Liu Yuanxun’s pupils contracted sharply. Xiao Jinye traced his gaze to the limb and spoke in an even tone. “Years ago, they shoved this arm into a cage full of starving dogs. It was gone in under a quarter-hour.”
“Lord Xiao,” Gu Lianzhao cut in at the right moment, “best not to linger on irrelevancies.”
Xiao Jinye shot him a casual glance, but it lingered on Gu Lianzhao’s face. Surprise flooded his eyes. “You’re a ger?”
Gers faced no end of inconveniences. Gu Lianzhao made no secret of his nature, but to spare himself needless hassle, he wore a headband that concealed the telltale red mark.
Given Xiao Jinye’s long isolation, his ignorance was understandable. What came next, though, drained the color from Gu Lianzhao’s face.
“To think even gers could harbor such savage tyrants. I figured only those eunuchs…”
Liu Yuanxun whipped his head toward Gu Lianzhao, confusion and shock mingling in his eyes.
Silhouetted against the light, Gu Lianzhao was swallowed in shadow. Liu Yuanxun couldn’t make out his expression, let alone whether their gazes met.
Xiao Jinye seemed to realize he’d overstepped and said no more. Instead, he turned back to Liu Yuanxun with grave solemnity. “Your Highness, this criminal minister has one final question.”
Liu Yuanxun dragged his attention back. With a slight nod, he said, “Ask away.”
Xiao Jinye pressed on. “Suppose I play the fool and tell you nothing—what then, Your Highness?”
Liu Yuanxun held his gaze, his voice gentle. “Lord Xiao, the answer remains the same. This had nothing to do with me from the outset. I’m not the one begging favors— you chose me, and I accepted. But if you expect me to serve as your blade while also wielding the hilt yourself, that’s asking too much of a sick man like me. The one who needs to grasp the moment isn’t me. It’s you.”
Xiao Jinye’s thoughts laid bare, he gave a wry smile. “But if Your Highness knew I was backed into a corner, why soil your own robes by coming here in person? Dragging me out for questioning would’ve been far simpler.”
Liu Yuanxun met his eyes frankly. “Because I gave my word.”
Seeing Xiao Jinye go still, he continued. “You may have drawn me into your game, but by agreeing to be your blade, I’ve shown my willingness. And since I’m willing, I want you to see my sincerity firsthand. Even something small like this is a beginning, wouldn’t you say?”
Excitement mounted in Xiao Jinye with every word. The secret he’d buried deep, starved of light for so long, now glimpsed its chance to break free. Liu Yuanxun was that chance—his hope!
He fixed Liu Yuanxun with an intense stare and spoke with utmost gravity. “Your Highness, I will trust you. But this concerns matters of utmost weight. I can only toss out a stone to test the path first—that way, you can gauge the depths of this muddy water.”
Liu Yuanxun tilted his head. “Worried I’ll balk?”
“No,” Xiao Jinye said with a bitter chuckle. “I can’t afford the gamble. You’re right: I’m the one begging, but even beggars need assurance. Your Highness, you must believe me—this is no trifling thing. I’d carry it to my grave before staking it lightly.”
Liu Yuanxun nodded sympathetically. “If you broke eight years of silence so easily for me, I’d find that suspicious. Speak, then. What do you need me to do?”
Xiao Jinye leaned forward, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Your Highness, go to Lamp Melody Alley and seek out a woman named Ning Bi. Tell her I sent you. She’ll reveal everything.”
“Lamp Melody Alley?” Liu Yuanxun echoed curiously. “Where’s that? In the capital? I’ve never heard of it.”
Before Xiao Jinye could reply, Gu Lianzhao spoke up in a low, ominous tone. “Not only in the capital—it’s the capital’s most notorious Gold-Devouring Den…”
