Zhao Yen clearly noticed that, of late, Wenren Lin’s appearances before her had sharply decreased.

The daily martial lessons had been replaced by another newly promoted Crown Prince’s Junior Preceptor, whose explanations of military strategy were obscure and difficult to understand, and whose chess skills were likewise disorderly and without method.

Wenren Lin would occasionally appear once or twice, then inexplicably vanish for six or seven days. On the rare occasions when they did meet, he was calm and leisurely to the point of indifference; after finishing the lesson, he would leave, his gaze not pausing upon Zhao Yen for even a moment.

By reason, since Wenren Lin no longer fixed his eyes upon her, Zhao Yen should have been pleased.

Yet for some unknown reason, her heart felt vaguely uneasy, as if something was not quite right.

Thinking it over carefully, it seemed that ever since that day in Chongwen Hall, when Wenren Lin had deliberately mentioned the matter of the “soft jade,” she, alarmed and frightened, had lost her temper and failed to restrain herself from talking back. At that moment, Wenren Lin’s gaze had clearly turned cold.

Zhao Yen turned over her own words from that time again and again, but could not find which sentence had offended his taboo. Clearly, after the Flower-Pinning Banquet, when in fear and panic she had even raised her hand against him, Wenren Lin had not taken it to heart!

In those few days, although Wenren Lin liked to threaten her, he did so with a smile; Zhao Yen, though nervous, had faintly perceived that Wenren Lin bore no obvious intent to kill.

But now, Wenren Lin was as a divine dragon, showing its head but not its tail, unfathomable and unpredictable—who could say for certain?

Whether she ought to take the initiative to sound out his intentions, or quietly observe the changes, Zhao Yen was torn for several days.

Until the end of the fourth month, when a strange case shocked the court and the realm, and Zhao Yen’s attention was temporarily diverted.

Within Cheng’en Hall, the sunlight by the window was bright, and flower-shadows swayed.

Zhao Yen and Liu Ji sat together upon a luohan bed, looking over a spread-out map of the suburbs of the capital.

After the winter banquet at year’s end, the rebel faction of Shu had carried away cartloads of plundered gold, silver, and jewels, as well as countless rewards granted in order to appease them and make them withdraw their troops, leaving behind a thousand li of desolated, scorched earth, and innumerable refugees gathered outside the capital seeking shelter.

“At first, in the beginning of the year, boys and young girls in the refugee camps began to disappear one after another. Gradually, it spread to the children of impoverished households in the outskirts of the city.”

Liu Ji traced a line on the map from the area of the capital’s suburbs to the western city gate, then continued, “At that time the court had only just pacified the rebels and recruited them into service; it was the very moment when stability was needed, when peace was to be painted over unrest. The Prefect of Jingzhao then suppressed the matter, arbitrarily executed two human traffickers, and hastily closed the case.”

But the disturbance did not cease at that. The hidden mastermind grew so audacious as to stretch his claws toward the households of officials.

Zhao Yen nodded, relating the news she had inquired about from Pei Sa at noon: “In the fourth month, the young sons of several officials of the capital, as well as maidens of budding age, disappeared one after another. Among them was the old-age son of Censor He, and the beloved younger sister of Assistant Minister of War Cen Meng.”

For a time, every household in the capital was gripped by fear. One memorial after another was sent into Taiji Hall, and the Emperor was compelled to return from his seclusion early, to sit in court and oversee affairs.

Liu Ji nodded, and, following Zhao Yen’s indication, found the residences of Censor He and Assistant Minister Cen on the map, then circled the corresponding places with cinnabar, and further connected each of the red dots one by one.

“The places where the incidents occurred all seem to spread around this suburban area. I will have Gu Xing investigate to whom this land belongs.”

As Zhao Yen watched Liu Ji’s movements, she suddenly asked, “Liu Ji, how is it that you know so much? To say nothing of state affairs and court politics—even the residences of officials you know roughly.”

She laughed lightly: “Even these details, I myself did not know.”

Liu Ji’s brush-tip paused slightly, then at once moved away as if nothing had happened. Propping her chin, she said, “Otherwise, why would your elder brother have gone to such lengths to keep me by your side?”

Zhao Yen looked at Liu Ji’s bold and striking features, and also raised her hand to support her chin, saying, “I always feel that Liu Ji is not like an ordinary woman.”

At these words, Liu Ji lifted her brows high, her face full of incredulity: “Your Highness suspects me?”

In this manner, she was instead imperiously adorable.

“If I truly suspected you, then at the moment you exposed my true identity, I would have simply let the Empress dispose of you.”

Zhao Yen leaned in closer, gazing into her amber pupils. “Besides, Elder Sister Liu Ji, when you are engaged in discussion of affairs, you are truly dazzling. Your vision is lofty and far-reaching. Indeed, unlike ordinary women.”

Zhao Yen’s praise was incomparably sincere. For once, Liu Ji was uncharacteristically a little flustered; she raised a hand to rub the tip of her nose and said: “Me? I am merely putting on a show. Your Highness is the one who is truly unlike an ordinary young maiden. If a common girl of fifteen or sixteen were suddenly entrusted with such a grave charge, I fear before she even sat upon the precarious seat of the Eastern Palace, she would already have been frightened to tears.”

Her gaze wavered for a moment, then she straightened and glared back with perfect confidence: “And Your Highness still says you do not suspect me? Ever since the Flower-Pinning Banquet, Your Highness has often shown an absent-minded look, plainly burdened with some concern.”

Zhao Yen was taken aback.

“See? See!”

With an expression of full comprehension, Liu Ji gave a light hum and said, “Your Highness has worries in your heart yet hides them from me—clearly, you do not trust me.”

Zhao Yen had always believed she had concealed this secret extremely well. Even Liuying had deliberately avoided the subject in conversation, fearing to say something wrong and wound her mistress’s heart.

And Zhao Yen herself had put on the guise of one unconcerned, managing all matters within and without the Eastern Palace. Yet she had not expected that the usually forthright Liu Ji would pierce straight through with a single remark.

Matters of the heart are just so: when no one pays heed, you feel you can still endure them. But once someone breaks open a fissure, you cannot help but long to let everything pour out.

Supporting her cheek with her hand, Zhao Yen lowered her eyes, blinked once, and said: “Lately, I have indeed encountered a perplexing dilemma.”

Liu Ji lifted her palm upward, hooked her fingertip, and indicated for her to speak.

“It was a story mentioned not long ago in Chongwen Hall, by Attendant Lecturer Zhou.”

Zhao Yen, feeling guilty, cleared her throat, pondered for a moment, then spoke softly: “It is said that in Hedong there was a great clan. The clan’s young master committed an act contrary to the rites, and by chance was caught in the act by his long-standing enemy. In his panic he compounded one mistake with another, doing something even more dreadful together with that enemy. Thus the enemy seized this as leverage, from time to time bringing it forth to threaten the young master… Tell me, how might such a predicament be unraveled?”

Liu Ji was doubtful. Zhou Ji was a gentleman of a distinguished family—apart from political discourse, he would actually relate to the Crown Prince such tales of scheming within great aristocratic houses?

Her eyes turned, and she laughed: “Isn’t this simple? Think of a way to eliminate the enemy.”

Zhao Yen slightly furrowed her brows: “But what if that enemy is an unshakable man of lofty rank?”

“Then think of a way to discover his weakness, seize some leverage, and check him in turn.”

“He conducts affairs decisively and ruthlessly, leaving not the smallest flaw; it seems he has no leverage.”

Liu Ji was dumbstruck.

She remained in a daze for a long while, then asked Zhao Yen: “This enemy of lofty power, with scarcely a rival—yet he stoops to threaten an empty-shelled young master. What is he scheming for?”

This question left Zhao Yen at a loss.

“Perhaps he wishes to control the young master, to swallow up the clan’s estate?” she guessed.

Liu Ji crossed her arms and countered: “Then why would he not simply seize this chance to kill the young master outright and take his place?”

“…”

“You see, generally when we clutch someone’s weakness to threaten them, it is because that person poses a threat to us, or because we can use that leverage to gain a greater benefit. But the enemy in Attendant Lecturer Zhou’s story clearly does not need such base tricks to achieve his aims. Killing the young master outright would be even simpler.”

Liu Ji spread her hands, unable to comprehend: “So in dangling the young master thus, what is he seeking? It makes no sense.”

What is he seeking?

Zhao Yen felt as if this question had struck to the depths of her soul, resounding with a clear echo in her mind.

Indeed, with Wenren Lin’s power—second only to one man, towering over ten thousand—whatever he wished to obtain, he had no need of the Eastern Palace’s assistance.

Then why did he not strike at her?

If he pushed her into a corner, what benefit would it bring him?

A flash of insight passed through her mind, but before she could seize it, it dissolved like the moon’s reflection in water, like flowers in a mirror.

By the fifth month, with the season of plum rains, the entire capital was veiled in misty, fresh drizzle, as though wrapped within a damp ink painting.

After half a month of unbroken rain, today at last the skies cleared. The fallen blossoms of spring had already turned to fragrant earth and vanished, nourishing the thick canopy of green upon the walls.

Summer had truly arrived.

In another eighty days it would be the anniversary of Zhao Yan’s death. Today, after her lessons, Zhao Yen especially went to Taiji Hall to pay her respects, and tactfully proposed that, as in the previous year, she wished to go to the Mingde Hall to preside over the grand ceremony of offering to Confucius, in order to console the next generation of pillars of Great Xuan.

So many lives lost were all bound to Mingde Hall. Qiu Zui had still not shown his trace—no matter what, she had to make a personal journey there.

The Emperor was silent for a long while before lightly saying: “The situation in the capital is unsettled. The Crown Prince need not stir up commotion. Remain peacefully in the Eastern Palace, study the sages’ writings, and temper your disposition.”

It was a direct refusal.

Though unwilling in her heart, Zhao Yen also understood the danger of impatient ambition. She only said, “This subject-child obeys the decree,” then gathered her sleeves, bowed, and withdrew from the hall.