Lunch was prepared in the Dali Temple cafeteria. Though the food served there was meant for the temple’s officials, the quality varied by rank. The portion set before Liu Yuanxun’s desk featured the finest ingredients available.
Liu Yuanxun had barely taken two bites when his stomach began to rebel. His expression remained unchanged as he set down his chopsticks, took a sip of tea, and suppressed the discomfort. Once his stomach had calmed a little, he forced down a few more bites of rice.
He never ate much at meals anyway, and this one matched his usual portion. Ling Ting, out of habit, urged him to eat a bit more, but Liu Yuanxun merely smiled faintly and shook his head, insisting that he was already full.
After the meal and his medicine, Liu Yuanxun wasted no time—he did not even nap. Instead, he promptly summoned Shen Wei.
……
Shen Wei was eager to discuss the case, but mindful that Liu Yuanxun was a prince in frail health, he refrained from pressing. To his surprise, Liu Yuanxun did not delay; within an hour, he arrived at the council hall.
Shen Wei had long despised the haughty demeanor of nobles and high officials. His understanding of Liu Yuanxun stemmed solely from rumors painting him as “frail and sickly, pampered and delicate.” He had glimpsed the prince at various state banquets over the years, but this was his first time observing him at such close range.
Shen Wei possessed a pair of hawk-like eyes—their shape alone was striking, but the piercing scrutiny they unleashed was truly eagle-sharp. He might not diagnose Prince Rui’s exact ailment, but the prince’s emaciated frame, depleted qi and blood were evidence enough: his days were surely numbered.
If he was this ill, why leave his mansion to recuperate and instead plunge into such a tempest? Years of investigative experience told Shen Wei something was amiss, but the moment called for focus on the case at hand. He set aside his suspicions and turned to business.
“Your Highness, this minister has reviewed the files and has a basic grasp of the Feng Hu and Tang Meiniang affair. Word is that Your Highness examined Xiao Jinye’s Imperial Prison records and even brought Ning Bi from Lamp Melody Alley back to the prince’s mansion. This minister must ask boldly: do these people connect to a single case?”
Liu Yuanxun replied with calm composure. “I don’t know.”
Shen Wei blinked in surprise. “What do you mean by that?”
Liu Yuanxun spoke measuredly. “When ordinary folk investigate, they chase leads or objectives. But I have no clues whatsoever. I only heard whispers of irregularities in Xiao Jinye’s case, so I reviewed his file. Shortly after making contact with him, the Feng Hu assassination and the incident with the Wang Family Noblewoman arose. As for Ning Bi… forgive me, but I cannot disclose that yet.”
Shen Wei was skeptical.
Liu Yuanxun was no Dali Temple Minister; he had little reason to entangle himself in trouble over mere clouds of doubt. Yet Shen Wei could find no grounds for disbelief. The man sat there, his skin pale as snow, his face the very picture of consumptive fragility, as if he might dissolve into the ether at any moment. What private agenda could such a figure possibly harbor?
With the case now under Dali Temple’s purview, Shen Wei could not ignore it, private motives or no. “Very well, then. Let us discuss Feng Hu’s case first.”
“Assassinating imperial kin is a capital offense,” Shen Wei continued, “but the precise sentence falls to Your Highness to decide.”
To safeguard the throne and imperial prestige, such crimes against royals were punished with utmost severity. Attempting to kill a prince was tantamount to regicide; the law demanded the extermination of nine clans. Yet Feng Hu had been a servant of the prince’s own household—the judgment rested with Liu Yuanxun.
This matter had weighed on Liu Yuanxun since Feng Hu’s death.
When his wet nurse, Jiang Yuniang, had suffered the extermination of her three clans, he had been a mere boy of ten, utterly powerless. Now, at twenty-four, he had no wish to flout ancestral precedents out of fleeting mercy. But with so many already lost, he could not stomach further slaughter.
“By strict law, the clan must be executed. But Feng Hu’s circumstances are exceptional.” Liu Yuanxun paused. “Everyone in my household knew his wits were feeble; for all his adult years, his mind worked like a child’s. The crime lies with his parents to bear. Spare the full extermination—exile them instead.”
Exile offered ample room for maneuvering: the destination, the distance—all negotiable.
Shen Wei grasped the implication at once. “Given his intellectual impairment, Your Highness’s judgment is both fitting and just. Then the matter is settled thus.”
Shen Wei shifted gears. “Since Your Highness has met Xiao Jinye and dismantled the ironclad Bone-Drop Kinship Test, shall we reopen his case for retrial?”
“Hold off for now,” Liu Yuanxun said after a moment’s reflection. “The so-called iron proof is shattered, but we lack other decisive evidence. A retrial now would only drag him through another ordeal of interrogation. Besides, the Imperial Prison keeps him safe under guard. Outside its walls, his survival would be uncertain.”
Shen Wei’s eyes narrowed as he probed. “Does Your Highness already harbor suspicions of someone specific?”
Liu Yuanxun answered candidly. “Mere suspicion, without hard proof. To name a name rashly would only slander the innocent. Lord Shen, a little more patience, if you please.”
The reasoning rang true, and Shen Wei let the matter drop. Neither case struck him as particularly thorny. What gnawed at him was Ning Bi—the one Liu Yuanxun refused to discuss.
He lifted the teapot and refilled Liu Yuanxun’s cup himself. Only after the prince took it up did Shen Wei speak. “Your Highness, I will not press on Ning Bi. Just answer me this: if injustice lurks behind her case, will you give voice to it or let it lie?”
At those words, Gu Lianzhao’s heart clenched. He kept his head down but waited, just like Shen Wei, for Liu Yuanxun’s reply.
Liu Yuanxun took a light sip of tea, swallowed, and then spoke four deliberate words: “Where there is grievance, it shall be voiced.”
Shen Wei felt a shiver run through him.
He knew full well the gravity of those words—gravity enough that even he, with his spotless reputation, could not utter them without a twinge of conscience. He pressed further. “Does Your Highness grasp the consequences of such a stance?”
Liu Yuanxun set down his cup and offered Shen Wei a faint smile. “I do not.”
Shen Wei was stupefied. Gu Lianzhao started in surprise. Both men looked up at Liu Yuanxun.
To wade in without knowing the repercussions—was that not folly?
Shen Wei’s habitually stern demeanor cracked, his face twisting in astonishment. Liu Yuanxun suppressed a laugh and said only, “Lord Shen, you are the Dali Temple Minister. Surely you comprehend the principles better than I. After all your years at the temple, why do you pursue cases?”
Shen Wei seemed to awaken to something. “To… where there is grievance, voice it.”
“Precisely,” Liu Yuanxun replied with a mild smile. “On an ordinary path, one treads with utmost caution, weighing every outcome for steady footing. But investigation is different—like retracing a road in reverse. Sooner or later, you will collide with someone. If you balk at the outset, forever fretting over whom you might strike, how will the case ever advance?”
Shen Wei understood implicitly. In that instant, the words nearly escaped him: “What if the one you collide with is the Late Emperor?”
He bit them back, fully comprehending Liu Yuanxun’s intent. Even the Late Emperor—even he would not be spared.
Never mind whether it smacked of rashness or filial impiety. From the vantage of pure justice, such resolve bordered on the heroic. And that very nobility left Shen Wei without excuse to argue against it.
Liu Yuanxun, seeing his prolonged silence, knew the man’s inner turmoil. “I know,” he said. “The matter touches upon Imperial Father, which is why Lord Shen hesitates to speak plainly.”
Shen Wei recoiled in shock. He had not expected Liu Yuanxun to name the taboo figure so bluntly. From a prominent family, Shen Wei drew strength for his impartiality against lesser officials from his lineage. Yet when emperors entered the equation, his first thought was ever for his clan’s peril.
Before he could deny it, Liu Yuanxun continued. “Lord Shen, the sun rises and sets by heaven’s rhythm; truth cannot be buried indefinitely. This affair concerns the lives of a hundred thousand souls—the realm’s business, so the truth belongs to the realm. If I cannot slay the entire world, then sooner or later, someone will step forth to speak it.”
Liu Yuanxun caught his breath before going on. “The case ensnares a hundred thousand lives, destined for the annals of history. Should I unearth the truth, it is mine to wield—mine to adjudge guilt, mete punishment, and quell the fallout. Ignore it, and let posterity dig it up without the Late Emperor’s shadow looming, swayed by private agendas; the histories will twist awry. At that point…”
He trailed off, but Shen Wei had grasped it all. His face grave, he fell silent for a long stretch before rising from his chair. He bowed deeply, sincerity etched in every line. “Prince Rui’s foresight and wisdom leave this minister in awe.”
The lengthy speech had left Liu Yuanxun breathless. He paused to recover before waving it off. “Lord Shen flatters me.”
“Very well, then,” Shen Wei said, straightening to meet Liu Yuanxun’s gaze. “One more matter requires Your Highness’s counsel.”
Liu Yuanxun drew himself up as well, his tone solemn. “Lord Shen, speak freely.”
Gu Lianzhao stood behind Liu Yuanxun in the otherwise empty council hall. Uncertain of the attendant’s trustworthiness, Shen Wei glanced his way—but Liu Yuanxun forestalled him. “No matter. He is one of our own.”
Only then did Shen Wei broach the subject. “A year ago, I received a letter containing a map.”
Ever since acquiring the zither scores and paintings, the word “map” had set Liu Yuanxun on edge. His gaze sharpened instantly.
Yet the map Shen Wei described was clearly not the same.
“It charts an underground secret vault. The upper section depicts the vault where Feng Yuanyuan’s family hoarded their treasures. The lower reveals a covert passage—a tunnel from the property next door straight to the Feng Family vault.”
Liu Yuanxun understood at once. “You mean to say it is possible that someone used the Feng Family estate as a smokescreen, burrowing a tunnel beneath their home to reach a hidden chamber for stashing gold and silver plundered in treason?”
Shen Wei nodded gravely. “Precisely. The map’s delivery was highly suspicious, slipped directly into a book I consult daily. Aside from the diagram itself and a slip reading ‘Feng Yuanyuan’s Vault,’ there was nothing more.”
Shen Wei continued, “At first, I waited, hoping that person would appear again and reveal their true purpose. But he vanished off the face of the earth, never showing up again—as if his sole aim had been to leave that letter on my desk.”
If it had only been an enigmatic letter, Shen Wei probably wouldn’t have brought it up with him specifically. He must have uncovered something more. Thus, Liu Yuanxun held his tongue, waiting patiently for the rest of the story.
“There are countless confidential files stored in the Hall of Political Affairs, and its defenses are airtight. No unauthorized personnel are allowed anywhere near it. At the time, I assumed the intruder was a martial arts master who could come and go as he pleased, treating Dali Temple’s security like it was nothing. But after some days passed, another possibility occurred to me.”
Liu Yuanxun picked up the thread. “Someone else who could freely enter and exit the Hall of Political Affairs besides you?”
Shen Wei nodded, dropping a bombshell in a single sentence that stunned Liu Yuanxun. “The first person I thought of was the former North Pacification Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, Liu Qianyuan, who had come here not long ago to discuss matters with me.”
It was him?
Liu Yuanxun perked up. “Can Lord Shen be certain?”
Shen Wei replied, “Not at first, but later… I was.”
“Why?”
“Because I went to see him.” After a pause, Shen Wei added, “I suspected that Lord Liu had deliberately lured me to seek him out.”
If the goal was simply to show him a drawing, why not leave it in the study of his own residence? Since he’d taken the risk of being recognized by coming to Dali Temple, it was likely intentional. With that in mind, Shen Wei had visited the Embroidered Uniform Guard Command Headquarters under the pretext of official business, testing the waters.
Liu Yuanxun pressed, “Did he admit it?”
Shen Wei shook his head. “No.”
A flicker of disappointment rose in Liu Yuanxun’s heart, but then he saw Shen Wei take a deep breath, his expression growing even graver. “Liu Qianyuan denied it flatly, claiming he had no idea what I was talking about. But as I was about to leave, he called me back, saying I’d forgotten something.”
“What thing?”
Shen Wei enunciated each word carefully. “A roster. One that meticulously recorded the bribe amounts received by Jiangnan officials, along with how they divided the spoils in the Grain Selling Corruption Case.”
Liu Yuanxun was stunned. This was ironclad evidence! Why had Shen Wei never mentioned it? He had heard of Shen Wei’s reputation, though, and knew that if such a ledger existed in his hands, he couldn’t possibly have kept it hidden silently for years. Unless…
Liu Yuanxun’s brow furrowed tightly. “What’s wrong with this ledger?”
Shen Wei had finally reached the crux of the matter. “Every official listed on the ledger had neither names nor positions—only code names.”
Liu Yuanxun followed up. “Where is the ledger now?”
Shen Wei replied, “With me. If Your Highness needs it, I can have a copy transcribed for you.”
Liu Yuanxun nodded. “I appreciate your trouble, Lord Shen.”
But the story wasn’t over. Shen Wei went on, “He kept stringing me along like that, one revelation after another, and it was infuriating. I planned to confront him again and force him to hand over the roster that matched those code names. But I was too late…”
Shen Wei’s earlier mention of “one year ago” and this phrase “too late” formed a closed loop. Liu Yuanxun had already guessed why he called it that.
Because Liu Qianyuan was dead.
Right after entrusting the item to Shen Wei, he’d died while pursuing a killer on duty.
Liu Yuanxun even suspected that Liu Qianyuan, foreseeing his own impending doom, had hastily passed it on to the one person he trusted: Shen Wei.
“Lord Shen,” Liu Yuanxun asked, “have you investigated Liu Qianyuan’s cause of death?”
Gu Lianzhao had once said there was something suspicious about Liu Qianyuan’s death, but no one cared because it wouldn’t stir up any waves.
But who was Shen Wei? Known as the Reincarnated Judge Bao, how could he fail to notice the anomalies?
Shen Wei let out a long sigh. “It seems Your Highness knows more of the inside story than I anticipated. Yes, I investigated. I confirmed that Liu Qianyuan and his Embroidered Uniform Guard subordinates were ambushed by killers—mercenaries paid to die without leaving a trace. Naturally, the roster vanished too. Without the roster, what use is the ledger? If I pushed the investigation, it would only alert the culprits without yielding results.”
Liu Yuanxun listened intently, not missing a single word from Shen Wei. That phrase—”without the roster, what use is the ledger?”—suddenly lit a spark in his mind.
It wasn’t the impenetrable defenses of the Imperial Prison that had kept Xiao Jinye enduring there for eight years, nor had those people arrogantly left Xiao Jinye’s old residence intact. No—it was because Xiao Jinye couldn’t be allowed to die, and his residence couldn’t be burned, for the roster was very likely hidden inside!
Something like a roster demanded being watched burn page by page to feel secure. If Xiao Jinye insisted it was in the residence, that would save both the house and his own life!
With these two pieces falling into place, Liu Yuanxun felt a surge of excitement. But the emotion triggered a stabbing pain in his chest, a metallic tang rising in his throat. He quickly lifted his cup and took a sip of tea, forcing down the mix of tea and blood.
After catching his breath for a moment, Liu Yuanxun forced himself to say, “I’ll leave the ledger in your hands, Lord Shen. I’m not up to it right now. Unless there’s more urgent business, I’d like to return to the residence and rest.”
Shen Wei rose to see him out, his tone sincere. “This conversation with Your Highness has been most enlightening for me. In the future, if there’s any way this humble official can be of service, please command me.”
Liu Yuanxun nodded hastily, trying to draw breath and rise from his chair. But his limbs felt leaden; even the slightest movement was an effort.
He was about to call for someone when a shadow fell beside him. Gu Lianzhao’s arm wrapped around his waist, the other steadying his arm. Those strong arms supported his weight completely.
Liu Yuanxun’s strained body instantly relaxed, leaning naturally into Gu Lianzhao’s embrace as he helped him to his feet.
