In the study, Zhao Yen showed Gu Xing that wrist-guard–shaped sleeve-hidden calamus.

“Your subordinate has already inspected it. This object is indeed a sleeve arrow, with no issues inside or outside. Only…”

Gu Xing returned the sleeve-hidden calamus, then, under Zhao Yen’s doubtful gaze, continued, “Only, this object is small and delicate, it should be for a woman’s self-defense.”

Seeing Zhao Yen knit her brows, Gu Xing lowered his head, quickly adding a sentence: “If it is for a half-grown youth, it can also be used.”

The carved calamus pattern on the wrist-guard was fine and ornate, indeed the kind of style beloved by women. Moreover, youths grow extremely fast, their bones changing day by day; how many would custom-make such a lethal weapon that would be unusable after only a few months?

Was it mocking the Crown Prince Zhao Yan for having the appearance of both male and female, or was it suspicion…

Zhao Yen dared not continue speculating; merely looking at this object before her already made her feel it was an eyesore.

She seized the sleeve-hidden calamus, intending to throw it out the door. Yet her hand, raised in midair, paused for a moment, then slowly withdrew.

Now, as she bore Zhao Yan’s identity, she must forget her original name and her own preferences. And Zhao Yan was a person so magnanimous it bordered on foolishness; he certainly would not, because of a sleeve arrow suspected of being for a woman’s use, harbor resentment or reveal panic.

Zhao Yen simply decided to respond to all change with constancy. She wanted to see, beneath that harmless-seeming facade of Wenren Lin, exactly what kind of intentions were hidden.

After only a short while, she calmed down. Zhao Yen resumed the gentle and magnanimous demeanor befitting the Crown Prince of the Eastern Palace. Holding that sleeve-hidden calamus concealing a killing mechanism, she said: “By the way, have those two old acquaintances of mine been found?”

After the Winter Festival, Zhao Yen had secretly ordered Gu Xing to go to the Mingde Academy, to search for Wang Yu and Cheng Jixing, who had corresponded with the former Crown Prince.

There were many things she wished to ask these two. Now, more than half a month had passed, so there ought to be results.

It was also for reporting this matter that Gu Xing had come.

After a long silence, he truthfully reported: “In reply to Your Highness the Crown Prince, that tribute student surnamed Cheng suddenly suffered an acute illness in mid-seventh month and died abruptly in his dormitory. His widowed mother from the countryside claimed Cheng Sheng’s corpse, and raised no doubts, and within a few days he was buried.”

Zhao Yen was startled, hurriedly asking: “From what illness did he die?”

Gu Xing said: “It seems he stayed up all night reading under the lamp, which triggered heart disease.”

For no reason, Zhao Yen felt her heart grow cold.

Within a month, two tribute students of the Mingde Academy had died suddenly, and both Shen Jingming and Cheng Jixing—who had had dealings with Zhao Yan—had died one after another. Could there really be such coincidence in the world?

Thinking for a moment, she asked: “Did you investigate Cheng Jixing’s medical history, to confirm that he died of sudden heart disease?”

Gu Xing understood his master’s meaning and nodded: “Your subordinate posed as Cheng Sheng’s fellow villager and inquired of his classmates about this matter. But strangely, all his classmates said that Cheng Sheng was always physically strong, outstanding in riding and archery, and had scarcely even suffered from small colds. Looking through the attendance registers of the scholars at Mingde Academy this year, Cheng Sheng’s record was also full.”

“This shows that for this entire year, he had never once taken sick leave.”

Zhao Yen understood—this truly was not the behavior one would expect from a person with heart disease.

“And Wang Yu?”

Zhao Yen placed her hopes upon this last person.

“Not long after Cheng Sheng’s death, this person bade farewell to his teacher and went wandering, and to this day there has been no news.”

Gu Xing clasped his fists and said, “Your Highness, rest assured, your subordinate is pursuing the investigation with full effort.”

Something was not quite right.

How many Confucian scholars regarded the imperial examinations as the ladder to ascend to heaven, yearning to leap over the dragon gate? This Wang Yu was already of tribute-student status, only a step away from the final palace examination—why would he choose, precisely at this time, to leave his teacher and wander?

Doubts in her heart grew heavier, and Zhao Yen felt it necessary to speak once again with Lady Liu.

Just as she reached the gates of Cheng’en Hall, she heard inside the sound of something crashing and scattering to the ground.

The fresh pastries Liuying had brought forward—just as she was about to advise, Zhao Yen cut her off, saying: “Mother Empress only said she was not permitted to leave the palace; she did not say I was not permitted to see her, correct?”

Having spoken, she personally received the pastry tray, pushed open the door, and entered.

As soon as her boot stepped into the hall, it trod upon an old book lying face-up on the floor tiles. In the distance, pens and scrolls lay scattered in all directions, leaving hardly any place to step.

Lady Liu was leaning against the window-side couch with her legs cocked, idly tossing chess pieces in boredom.

A white piece bounced beneath Zhao Yen’s boot; she stooped to pick it up and placed it on a broken point on the board.

Lady Liu arched her brows, looking over at her.

“Heh! It’s not even Qingming Festival yet, and how is it that Your Highness suddenly thinks of visiting me?”

The great beauty, the moment she opened her mouth, had barbs in every word. Not once did she utter grievance, yet every word was veiled mockery of the extreme boredom of being confined within the hall.

“If you want Mother Empress to lay aside her suspicions, time will be required. Besides, have I not all along been waiting for you to think it through and give me your reply?”

Zhao Yen was amused by her, set the tray of delicately prepared pastries upon the table, then properly seated herself opposite her. “I heard from Liuying that you love sweets, so I had the kitchens make more.”

Lady Liu wrinkled her nose, and after a while could not resist taking a piece of sweet red-bean cake and stuffing it into her mouth, muttering: “I have no reply to give you. Since it is already certain Zhao Yan is no more, what importance is there in what the truth may be?”

“If you truly thought so, you would not have risked returning to the palace.”

Zhao Yen wasted no more words, taking out that list of names who had once exchanged letters with Zhao Yan. “These three people—do you know them?”

Lady Liu’s gaze skimmed over the paper, without a second’s thought: “I do not know them.”

“Shen Jingming and Cheng Jixing are dead, and Wang Yu’s whereabouts are unknown.”

Zhao Yen said, “They died one month before the Crown Prince’s accident.”

At these words, those eyes of Lady Liu, frivolous as glazed crystal, trembled imperceptibly, though she quickly resumed nonchalance, picking up another piece of sugared cake.

Lady Liu had lied, almost with the determination to guard her lips to death.

Zhao Yen understood clearly, and at the right moment stepped back, drawing out another slip of paper from her sleeve and smoothing it before Lady Liu—it was a note discovered within the Ancient and Modern Annotations that Shen Jingming had gifted the Crown Prince.

“Then I will change the question. What is the meaning of this ‘Fu Deng’?”

This time, Lady Liu’s gaze lingered upon the paper, the strokes carved deep into the fibers, for a long while, her expression shifting several times.

She replied: “A fluttering moth.”

“What?”

Zhao Yen froze, then slowly furrowed her brows. “I am not jesting with you.”

“I also am not jesting with you. You have not carefully read that Ancient and Modern Annotations, have you?”

Lady Liu was already impatient; swallowing down the pastry, she said, “‘The moth is skilled at brushing the lamp, also called spark, also called light-seeker.’ Fu Deng is an insect, commonly called a fluttering moth.”

Zhao Yen was stunned.

She had never expected that what she regarded as an important clue, the slip of paper she had labored so hard to trace, would turn out to be nothing more than Shen Jingming casually copying down an alternate name for an insect.

Holding her pastry, Lady Liu openly watched as Zhao Yen slowly lowered her eyes, the light within them visibly dimming.

Memories floated into her mind, the figure before her growing mottled and blurred, replaced by another youth resembling him.

Once upon a time, Lady Liu and Zhao Yan had also sat here, playing chess, jesting and bantering.

“Zhao Yan, why are you like a block of wood, not even a single beautiful attendant at your side?”

She had sat cross-legged with careless boldness, chattering in complaint. “Causing me to face only your pale face all day long—how dreadfully boring.”

Zhao Yan had draped his outer robe loosely over his thin shoulders, speaking gently: “I have no beauty, but I do have a twin younger sister, very beautiful and lovable.”

“How lovable?” Lady Liu’s eyes lit up.

Zhao Yan rested his hand against his chin, pondered for a long while, then drawled slowly: “Mm… the same as I.”

Lady Liu made a show of striking him, but Zhao Yan only lifted his shoulders cheerfully and laughed softly. Laughing, he soon coughed until the sky went dark and the earth spun.

Lady Liu, finally unable to bear it, let the raised palm fall gently instead, changing to stroke his back and ease his breath.

“If you love her so much, why not keep her by your side?” she asked.

Zhao Yan, panting for breath, shook his head.

“Alone I am frail and powerless, often angering and wearying her. Moreover, the Eastern Palace is not safe. I do not wish… to drag her into the mire.”

“She despises you? And yet you still miss her so deeply.”

Zhao Yan only shook his head and smiled: “I know Yen’er speaks those things only out of anger. Because she has a guilty heart, she likes to bluster and retort in return. For example, ‘Who wants your things,’ ‘Who worries for you’… After saying such angry words, she will secretly hide away to regret alone. That stubborn mouth and soft heart resembles you somewhat.”