The Late Emperor had once said, “Pearls and jade are not true treasures; thrift is the true treasure.” He led by example in all things, pursuing simplicity and deeply fearing that extravagance would take hold, exhausting the people and draining the treasury.
Even daily necessities were repeatedly cut back, and he strictly forbade the use of rare materials in crafting utensils—including ivory chopsticks.
In their place came the triple silver-inlaid wooden chopsticks.
These chopsticks featured silver inlays at the head, tail, and middle. The ones at the tail and middle were purely for decoration, while the silver wrapping the head served both that purpose and poison detection.
For a time, these triple silver-inlaid wooden chopsticks became a symbol of thrift among the imperial clan and noble families. They were the most commonly used chopsticks among the upper class, and neither Prince Rui’s Mansion nor Meng Mansion was an exception.
At first, Liu Yuanxun hadn’t noticed anything unusual. After all, the chopsticks were lightweight, and their appearance showed no difference.
It was only when he saw Ling Qing using her chopsticks that he suddenly realized the sound of the chopsticks falling to the ground at Meng Mansion had been far too distinctive.
He had been frail since childhood, spending most of his time indoors recuperating. On ordinary days, aside from reading, he would toy with jade artifacts and precious items. Skilled in music as he was, he was intimately familiar with the sounds various materials made upon hitting the ground.
Wood produced a dull thud when dropped, jade a crisp ring. Only ivory made that soft yet resonant “ding” sound.
A few pairs of ivory chopsticks alone might not mean much. Grand Secretary Meng was, after all, a high-ranking court official; using some rare items was perfectly normal. But the problem was that the chopsticks they had used were wrapped in wood and inlaid with silver.
The fact that he could hear the sound of ivory meant the wood wrapping was extremely thin. Even so thin, there was still a layer of it—which could only mean the user didn’t want anyone to notice.
Ling Qing swallowed the food in her mouth and looked nervously toward Liu Yuanxun. “Master, why have you gone quiet?”
Ling Qing was still young and simple-minded. Liu Yuanxun worried that saying too much would burden her and cause unnecessary slip-ups. So he merely gave her a reassuring smile and said, “It’s nothing. I just got lost in thought and held up your meal.”
Ling Qing knew her own limits well. If Liu Yuanxun didn’t say more, she wouldn’t press. She simply murmured an “oh,” picked up her chopsticks, wiped them clean, and resumed eating.
Liu Yuanxun turned to Ling Ting. “I’ve been meaning to ask—where did you arrange rooms for those two eunuchs?”
Ling Ting replied, “I originally planned to put them in the servants’ quarters, but the two eunuchs said Eunuch Hong had ordered them to serve ‘at your side.’ So I cleared out the ear room behind the main building and set up two beds there.”
There was a side room on each side of the main hall. One had originally been Ling Ting’s, the other empty—later reserved for Gu Lianzhao. That left the two eunuchs to be housed in the rear.
Being so close ensured safety, but it offered virtually no privacy. After all, a residence wasn’t like a bustling street. In such a quiet environment, a single wall couldn’t block these experts from eavesdropping.
Liu Yuanxun had wanted to discuss what happened at Grand Secretary Meng’s house with Ling Ting, but hearing this, he could only keep his thoughts to himself for now.
On the way back, Gu Lianzhao had asked if he’d noticed anything, but without evidence, Liu Yuanxun feared his suspicions were mere bias and hadn’t voiced them.
But with the ivory chopsticks, he could now think a little deeper.
If his guess was right, then this trip to Jiangnan wouldn’t just be about investigating Meng Qian’an—it would be about Meng Yannian himself.
…
Perhaps worn out from the day, Liu Yuanxun didn’t even realize when he’d fallen asleep. When he woke, the sky was already bright.
The space beside him was as empty as ever. He assumed Gu Lianzhao had gone to the rear courtyard to practice martial arts—until Ling Ting came to help him wash and dress, revealing that Gu Lianzhao hadn’t returned all night.
“Perhaps something came up at the Imperial Prison,” Ling Ting said as he straightened Liu Yuanxun’s long hair and gently combed it. “If you’re worried, Master, why not send a servant boy to check?”
“No need.” Liu Yuanxun didn’t dwell on it. Gu Lianzhao had been reinstated, after all, and naturally had responsibilities to attend to, his own path to follow.
Besides, Gu Lianzhao had mentioned before that the Embroidered Uniform Guard’s duties were unique. It wasn’t uncommon for them to go days without sleep when busy. They were only friends, not spouses; there was no need to monitor each other’s every move.
Yet he’d slept restlessly that night. Upon waking, his throat felt hoarse, and his condition seemed to be worsening again—as if he’d caught a chill.
Liu Yuanxun looked at Ling Ting in the mirror and asked, “Was it very cold last night?”
Ling Ting lowered his gaze as he tied Liu Yuanxun’s hair, murmuring softly, “The temperature did drop. If you’re going out today, Master, you should wear extra layers.”
Liu Yuanxun glanced at the sky outside the window. “I won’t be going out for now. My spirits have only just improved; if I catch another chill, I’m afraid I’ll be bedridden again.”
Ling Ting gazed at his master’s frail form. Knowing Liu Yuanxun was soon headed to Jiangnan—and that he hadn’t served him closely in ages because of Gu Lianzhao’s presence—the words he’d bottled up for so long finally spilled out.
“Master…” He hesitated a moment before speaking. “Since the Pure Yang Physique would benefit your health, why stop your subordinates from seeking one for you?”
Liu Yuanxun started slightly, suddenly remembering that Ling Ting didn’t know Gu Lianzhao possessed the Pure Yang Physique. After a brief hesitation, he decided to keep it from him for now.
In Ling Ting’s mind, finding a Pure Yang Physique meant finding a way to nourish and extend Liu Yuanxun’s life. If he learned of Gu Lianzhao’s constitution and built up hope, the heartbreak would be worse when the poison fully flared.
He hadn’t sought one before because even finding it wouldn’t help—his illness was beyond what a Pure Yang Physique could cure. But to Ling Ting, such behavior might seem like he didn’t value his own life.
Ling Ting had almost never questioned his decisions before. He must have pondered this deeply in his heart.
“We’ll talk about it later,” Liu Yuanxun said softly. “I’ll keep it in mind. On my birthday, I’ll enter the palace and mention it to Imperial Brother.”
“Really?” Ling Ting’s face lit up with surprise; he hadn’t expected Liu Yuanxun to heed him.
Liu Yuanxun looked at Ling Ting’s blurred, smiling face in the bronze mirror, a faint ache in his heart. He wasn’t sure if such procrastination was for the best.
He gave a light smile. “The Pure Yang Physique is rare and hard to find. Don’t get your hopes up too much.”
Ling Ting had wondered if Liu Yuanxun had given up the search because of the Emperor in the palace. But now it seemed more like Liu Yuanxun saw the hope as too slim and had abandoned it.
He smiled. “Still, having hope is better than none.”
Liu Yuanxun gave a faint smile and said no more.
After breakfast, Ling Ting wanted to urge him to rest more, but Liu Yuanxun felt that lying abed any longer would turn him into a useless lump. He draped a heavy cloak over his shoulders and headed for the study.
He had just stepped out the door when he heard a dog’s bark.
Liu Yuanxun said curiously, “Didn’t A’Qiao take Broom Tail to the Imperial Prison?”
Only then did he recall that yesterday they’d gone to Meng Mansion first, then straight to the Imperial Prison. Gu Lianzhao might not have expected to be away all night and thus hadn’t brought Broom Tail.
Liu Yuanxun paused and looked toward the rear courtyard. “Is someone feeding it?”
Ling Ting replied, “Broom Tail is picky about people. It won’t eat anything unless Lord Gu brings it. Ling Qing wanted to feed it, but as soon as she got close, it crouched low like it would attack. She ended up tossing some meat buns from afar—I don’t know if it ate them.”
Liu Yuanxun asked, “Is it tied up?”
Ling Ting nodded. “Yes, it’s tied the whole time.”
Liu Yuanxun said, “I’m at loose ends anyway. Let’s go take a look.”
Broom Tail was as fierce and unfriendly as ever. It didn’t bark, but it bared its teeth at any stranger who approached, ready to fight to the death.
Liu Yuanxun watched it from afar and suddenly understood why Gu Lianzhao had taken it in. The man and the dog seemed to share a temperament.
Seeing Liu Yuanxun about to step closer, Ling Ting couldn’t help reminding him, “Master, best to stay back. I’m afraid it might hurt you.”
Liu Yuanxun had meant to bend down and tease it, but its ferocious expression made him hesitate. Hearing Ling Ting’s warning, he took a step back to keep his distance.
As he drew nearer, he spotted the two meat buns Ling Qing had thrown. With the cold outdoors, they had frozen solid, though the scent of meat still lingered faintly. Yet Broom Tail wouldn’t touch them.
It was Gu Lianzhao’s dog, after all, and he’d been the one to suggest bringing it home. Liu Yuanxun felt he had to do his part.
“Ling Ting,” he said, “go to the kitchen and fetch some fresh meat to try.”
Ling Ting assented and, before leaving, cautioned again, “Master, don’t get too close. This dog’s strong—be careful not to get hurt.”
Liu Yuanxun nodded. “Don’t worry. I’ll just stand right here.”
Once Ling Ting left, the rear courtyard held only Liu Yuanxun and Broom Tail.
At first, Broom Tail maintained its aggressive stance. But after Ling Ting departed, it slowly stood, paced leisurely by its doghouse, and spared not a glance for Liu Yuanxun—as if certain he posed no threat.
Liu Yuanxun first thought he’d imagined it, but after clapping his hands and calling “Broom Tail,” he clearly saw it turn its head for a quick look before resuming its stroll as if nothing had happened.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Liu Yuanxun said, getting fired up.
He knew better than to get close enough to fight it, so he stayed put and scolded from afar. “Do you know where this is? Do you know whose rice you’re eating? Is that any way for a house dog to behave?”
Broom Tail twitched its ears, then lay down on the ground with its rear end facing Liu Yuanxun. Clearly, it had no interest in him.
Liu Yuanxun muttered, “You and your master were carved from the same mold.”
When Gu Lianzhao had first been “married” into the prince’s mansion, he’d worn much the same expression—disgusted with Liu Yuanxun yet dismissive of him, treating him as little more than a mild-tempered invalid who posed no threat. That had made his behavior all the bolder.
Liu Yuanxun knew Gu Lianzhao had a difficult personality, but one couldn’t judge character without considering his experiences.
