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Zhao Yen soaked in the pool water, her neck and cheeks tinged with the light red flush of a hot bath. Her smoothly clinging wet hair added a few degrees of soft allure, like hibiscus stepping out from water.
Would His Highness Prince Su still lack one or two sachets? They are not anything of value anyway.
Zhao Yen tried to discern whether Wenren Lin’s words were serious, or just a casual mocking jest. Yet that face hidden in the shadow behind the drooping gauze revealed nothing at all.
When Wenren Lin had left, Zhao Yen finally climbed out of the pool in a dizzy haze, changing out of the inner garment that had become transparent from being soaked, and raised her hands to wring dry her dripping hair.
After a while, she leaned back onto the small couch, touching her sore and numb lower lip with a faint hum.
Not far away, a sudden “bang” resounded, followed by the sound of bottles and jars tipping over and shattering, exceptionally clear in the silence of the night.
Zhao Yen tensed and rose to ask: “What is the matter?”
Outside the door panel, a swaying lamp drew near, and then Li Fu’s voice came: “Your Highness, it seems to be sounds from Lady Liu Ji’s room.”
Zhao Yen’s heart jolted in alarm. She picked up a jade hairpin and hastily pinned up her wet hair, threw a robe over her body, and hurriedly pulled open the door.
Liuying also rushed over from Guanyun Hall, and together the group carried lamps to Liu Ji’s Tingyu Pavilion.
“Lady Liu Ji, are you all right?”
At Zhao Yen’s indication, Li Fu raised his hand to knock at the door, his voice louder: “Lady Liu Ji?”
Seeing no response from inside for a long while, Zhao Yen grew somewhat anxious.
She quickly went up the stone steps, raising her hand to force the door open, when at last there came a weak reply from within: “Wait… hiss! It is not very convenient right now, my clothes are not properly worn.”
After another round of rustling sounds, and gauging the time as about enough, Zhao Yen forcefully pushed the door open.
All at once, everyone was startled by the scene before their eyes.
The room was in complete disorder. The floor tiles were wet, the hanging drapes had fallen down, the flower stand toppled, and porcelain vases had crashed into fragments all over. Liu Ji, with disheveled hair, had fallen among the shards, the wide-sleeved robe upon her stained with dirt, clutching her forehead with knitted brows.
“Aiyo! What happened here?”
Li Fu set the flower stand upright, then quickly stepped outside to fetch broom, dustpan, and such things, carefully sweeping up the porcelain shards. He even ran his hand over the cracks of the floor to confirm no fragments remained before reassuring his mistress to enter.
“Go and invite Imperial Physician Zhang here.”
Zhao Yen instructed Liuying, then crouched to remove Liu Ji’s hand that covered her forehead. Seeing the scraped and swollen red spot at her temple, Zhao Yen furrowed her brows. “How did you end up like this?”
“I had just returned from bathing, preparing to place flowers into a vase. Carelessly, the floor was slippery, and I fell.”
Liu Ji looked extremely dispirited, pressing her pale lips as she spoke: “I knocked my head on the flower stand, and not only twisted my foot, but even the flowers Your Highness gifted me were spilled.”
“At a time like this, why care about flowers?”
Zhao Yen ordered two palace maids to help Liu Ji onto the couch. She herself bent down and lifted up the hem of Liu Ji’s skirt a little, indeed seeing her ankle slightly swollen.
She examined it carefully, completely unaware that Liu Ji’s gaze had fallen upon the cut at her lower lip, and asked: “How did Your Highness’s mouth become injured?”
“…Dog bite.”
“Ah?”
“It is nothing, I merely bumped it by accident in the bath pool.”
Zhao Yen pressed her lips together, trying to change the subject: “When you came back, there was no one else in the room?”
Liu Ji indeed had her attention diverted. After thinking for a while, she covered her stinging forehead and shook her head: “There should not be. When I change clothes I am not accustomed to others serving me. I had originally thought to take this chance to confess to Your Highness… now, with this foot, not to mention soaking in hot springs together, I fear I cannot even touch water for several days.”
As she spoke, she turned her head, embarrassed: “Your Highness had better leave quickly, I am in such a wretched and useless state.”
After Zhao Yen waited for Imperial Physician Zhang to come and finish the treatment, confirming that Liu Ji had only suffered some flesh wounds, she also assigned two diligent palace attendants to remain and care for her, then at last felt at ease to leave.
“Tonight’s moonlight is very beautiful.”
In her ears once again involuntarily arose Wenren Lin’s low words before leaving: “When killing those who are in the way, it must certainly be delightful.”
As soon as Wenren Lin departed, Liu Ji was injured—was it truly just coincidence?
Zhao Yen was unwilling to think further, yet it was hard not to think further.
The mountain night wind passed through under the corridor. The water drops at the end of her hair bun fell onto her neck. Zhao Yen shivered involuntarily, actually perceiving a trace of chill.
Returning to Guanyun Hall, Gu Xing had already been waiting under the corridor.
“This servant will fetch some salve for Your Highness’s lips.”
Liuying very tactfully bowed in farewell, taking along the attendants of Guanyun Hall as well.
“Your Highness, today again a young girl and a young boy have gone missing in the city.”
Gu Xing spoke concisely, delivering the intelligence he had scouted: “Just now I saw Prince Su’s carriage and horses hastily descending the mountain, most likely for this matter. This subordinate feared Prince Su would notice, and so did not dare follow too closely.”
Zhao Yen received the intelligence, thought for a moment, and said: “Prince Su descended the mountain directly, he did not stop at Yuquan Palace?”
Could it be she had overthought it, and Liu Ji’s injury was only an accident?
No, when it concerns human lives, it is better to be cautious.
Zhao Yen pressed down the doubts in her heart, unfolded the intelligence written with the information of the missing persons, and her pupils could not help but contract.
【Liu Xiaomei, twelve years old, father a bamboo-weaver, mother gravely ill. On the fifth day of the fifth month at the Chen hour [7–9 a.m.], entered the market to sell flowers, at the end of the You hour [5–7 p.m.] disappeared by the Longshui Canal.
Hu Aman, three years old, father Hu Jingde, Registrar of the Dali Temple. On the fifth day of the fifth month at the Shen hour [3–5 p.m.], disappeared from the back garden of his own home.】
“Liu Xiaomei…” Zhao Yen recognized.
She instinctively glanced at the willow basket resting on the wooden stand, and in her mind could not help but recall that poor but lively and sensible little girl she had encountered that afternoon by Yunxiao Bridge.
The little girl’s clothing had been so neatly put together; she must surely be a cherished and obedient child loved by her parents. Now, with her sudden disappearance, her parents must at this moment be in desperate anguish, plunged into a boundless abyss of pain.
Zhao Yen could not help but clench her fingers, the xuan paper creased beneath her fingertips.
Too slow… the power of the Eastern Palace is insufficient. Even if Gu Xing pressed on day and night to investigate, it was still too slow.
With every day’s delay, more innocent people would encounter misfortune.
Thinking of this, Zhao Yen calmed herself. She quickly walked to the wooden stand, took down the flower basket, held it in her arms, and pondered.
Whether for the cause of Elder Brother’s death, or for these children abducted in the city, she must personally make a trip to Wenren Lin.
Zhao Yen drew out the only remaining peach-pink sachet, carefully examined it for a long time…
Forget it, better to change it to something else.
This vulgar and unbearable color—she feared Wenren Lin would tenderly throw both the sachet and her out the door for a grand burial.
…
Jinyun Villa.
On the walls of the secret chamber, the torches leapt like ghostly flames, illuminating the dark, bottomless mouth of the cave.
“Useless thing!”
Zhao Yuanyu snatched up an inkstone and hurled it fiercely at the silent, ferocious man.
On the wall, the man’s extremely tall and thin shadow did not move. The inkstone bounced off his head, clattered to the ground, and crimson blood flowed from his temple. He did not so much as blink—his eyelashes did not even stir—like stagnant water, like a carved stone figure.
“I told you to catch tongzi chickens1Tongzi chickens: euphemistic term used by the demonic sect for abducted children, dehumanizing them as ‘child chickens’ for alchemy., and you stupid dog went and caught them from the household of a court official! With such skills, why don’t you just kill Zhao Yan for me!”
The commotion had already grown too loud. The more Zhao Yuanyu spoke, the angrier he became. He picked up the iron chains used for binding and lashed them noisily against the man. But his strength was misapplied, and the heavy weight pulled him off balance, nearly tripping himself instead.
“This is not the time to be enraged.”
Daoist nun Chun Niang came out from the secret chamber holding her horsetail whisk, coldly advising: “Now that the grass has been startled and the snake alarmed, this place is no longer suitable to remain. Shizi Ye would do well to cut the tail and survive, and early on clear away all traces.”
“You mean, let this Shizi run? In just a few days it will be the time for refining the medicine—where should I run to?”
Zhao Yuanyu’s forehead was drenched in sweat, his delicate face filled with venom: “It was so hard to capture so many children, all of this Shizi’s hopes are pinned here!”
“Shizi, watch your words.”
At the words “children,” Chun Niang’s tone turned cold and weighty.
How could a cultivator kill people to refine pills? Thus those children could not be called “people,” but should be called “tongzi chickens.”
Realizing he had touched a taboo, Zhao Yuanyu instantly dropped his fierce manner, panting heavily: “I know, I know.”
…
After breakfast, Zhao Yen put on a veiled hat and boarded the carriage down the mountain.
She had Gu Xing find out the location carefully—these past few days Wenren Lin had been residing at the Western Hill Villa north of Yining Street, about an hour’s carriage ride from Yuquan Palace.
The carriage swayed, dappled light and shadow of trees constantly swept over the curtains. The gauze veil on Zhao Yen’s hat swayed lightly as well, and beneath the man’s attire meant to mislead eyes, there was still a faintly made-up, graceful face.
On her knees rested a folding fan, painted personally by her hand over the course of one night.
Zhao Yen had thought for a long time. Yesterday’s Duanyang Festival had already passed, and the time for giving sachets had been missed; sachets were too ambiguous anyway, not to mention she had never learned any womanly embroidery since childhood, so she could not embroider any patterns. As for jade, there was even less need…
Wenren Lin to this day still carried on him those warm jades that made her cheeks burn with heat.
In Great Xuan there was the tradition of a ruler gifting fans to his ministers in summer. Zhao Yen recalled that the folding fan Wenren Lin held yesterday had no inscription or painting, pure white all over, and in her heart she had an idea.
At any rate, it was only an excuse to see him and sound out his intentions. Whether Wenren Lin liked it or not was not that important.
Thinking of this, Zhao Yen felt slightly at ease. She accepted the fan cover Liuying handed her, put it on properly, and held it in her hand.
When they arrived at the villa it was just noon. Wenren Lin had gone out on some matter and had not yet returned.
The one who opened the door was another deputy general of the Prince’s Manor. Zhao Yen remembered this rugged face—it seemed he was called Zhang Cang.
Zhang Cang, knowing the relationship between the young crown prince and his own master, naturally did not dare let such a frail little thing stand beneath the blazing sun. Rubbing his hands, he ushered her into the hall to rest, serving tea and offering water, all in eager attentiveness.
From the eaves came the ceaseless fluttering sound of carrier pigeons’ wings. Zhang Cang, guarding Zhao Yen, could not help but keep glancing outside.
Zhao Yen knew it clearly in her heart. Setting down the cooled tea, she said: “Deputy Zhang, go and tend to your own matters. May I ask if there is a place in this villa to read for leisure? I will go choose two books to read while waiting for the Grand Preceptor’s return.”
Zhang Cang said: “There is a small study, please follow this subordinate.”
The Prince conducted affairs with caution: any secret letters were either promptly burned or the related documents left in Prince Su’s manor or in Hegui Pavilion. This villa was kept very clean; there was no worry of leaking any important secrets.
What was left behind in fragments of words were all matters of no consequence.
Even so, Zhao Yen still found a few scattered clues regarding the missing persons case—not that she deliberately searched, but simply because this booklet had been pressed under a local gazette on the desk.
The booklet separately recorded all the missing children and young maidens, their number far more than Zhao Yen had discovered. Merely those reported to the authorities already numbered over seventy, not to mention orphans without father or mother, or beggar children among the vagrants.
After the long register of the missing came information on the buyer of the deed to Jinyun Villa. Zhao Yen’s gaze darkened; she removed the obstructing veiled hat and placed it on the desk, continuing to flip through…
A familiar shadow stretched from behind, enveloping her. A long, slender hand reached past her ear and lightly took away the case booklet that Zhao Yen had been reading with such absorption.
Turning her head, Zhao Yen saw Wenren Lin, and was startled.
But she quickly calmed. What she was reading was not a secret anyway. If it were a secret…
“If it were a secret, Your Highness would already be dead.”
Wenren Lin seemed to see through her thoughts. He tapped the booklet against his palm, the crimson sleeves of his constant robe unfurling before Zhao Yen’s eyes like the deepest blood.
“…”
Zhao Yen steadied herself, nonchalantly diverting the subject. “This time I have come, it is because I have something I wish to present to Prince Su.”
Saying so, she took out the fan she had long prepared and handed it to Wenren Lin.
Wenren Lin’s gaze fixed for a moment. Sitting in the armchair, he flicked open the fan, looked at the painted expanse of snow mountains and solitary moon upon it, and raised his brows slightly: “Just this?”
What else then?
Zhao Yen was puzzled: “I only felt that this mood of snowy mountains and solitary moon somewhat resembles Prince Su.”
Just as unfathomable as the night, just as piercing to approach as ice and snow.
“I thought, since Your Highness studied the illustrated explanations of the Classic of the Mysterious Maiden for so long, you must have gained quite some insight.”
“?”
“Never mind.”
Wenren Lin, as though reluctantly, folded the fan shut. Gazing at Zhao Yen’s reddened ears as she struggled, his mood slightly improved.
With one hand he closed the folding fan, fixing his eyes for a while on the blue-gray tassel pendant, then at last detached it and replaced it with the warm jade pendant hanging from his own fan.
“Come here.”
Wenren Lin slowly played with the warm jade, lifting his eyes toward Zhao Yen.
Zhao Yen hesitated for a moment, then rose and stood before him.
Though seated, Wenren Lin’s imposing air did not lessen in the least. His long, jointed hand held the fan of snowy mountains and solitary moon, carrying a somewhat gentle and elegant bearing.
“Your fake concubine said one thing right—this prince is a man with a ruthless heart. It would be best for Your Highness to stay far away from me.”
He slowly lifted his hand, fingertip pointing in the air at the tear mole by her eye, his voice unhurried: “For the sake of Your Highness being fairly pleasing in coaxing people, I will give you one piece of advice: this case is not one you can touch. If you wish to live, do not interfere. Understood?”
Zhao Yen’s eyelashes could not help but tremble, like feathers.
Wenren Lin gave a low laugh. His fingertip moved down, slowly brushing over her lower lip where she had deliberately applied a thin layer of rouge.
Zhao Yen saw beneath his cold, pale fingertip a faint rouge hue spread.
The next moment, he flicked open the folding fan and pressed the rouge he had taken from her lips onto the blank full moon painted on the fan, turning it in a circle.
That clear and frosty snowy moon thus became a wanton, enchanting blood moon.
Footnotes
1
Tongzi chickens: euphemistic term used by the demonic sect for abducted children, dehumanizing them as ‘child chickens’ for alchemy.
