Category: Summoning the Soul

Chapter 50: Treading on Grass (Part 1)

Hearing his words, Ni Su knew he truly missed his teacher, so much so that even he, usually so reserved, couldn’t hide his emotions.

“If you miss him, go see him,” she said, sitting up in bed. “Even if you don’t speak, even if he doesn’t know you’re there, just seeing him from afar would be enough.”

“I saw him the day you arrived in Yun Jing,” Xu He Xue said.

A brief glimpse on the bridge.

“That’s enough,” he said, smoothing the wrinkles on his robe. “I can miss him, but I can’t allow myself to see him. Being summoned back to the mortal realm is already a blessing. I shouldn’t ask for more.”

If he indulged his desires too much, how could he bear to return to Youdu?

A dead man shouldn’t have such attachments.

“Why do you think that way, Xu Zi Ling?” Ni Su asked, taking his sleeve. “I think you deserve more. You returned to fulfill your regrets.”

Xu He Xue looked down at her slender fingers gently holding his sleeve. He shook his head. “My teacher isn’t a regret.”

“Then what is?” she asked.

The melting snow dripped from the eaves. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating Xu He Xue, making him seem like a figure carved from frost and snow.

“What I’m doing now… is fulfilling my regret,” he said.

Was it Du Cong? The ledger? Or the unnamed officials in the ledger? Ni Su glanced at the open book on the table by the window.

Her stomach rumbled.

They both looked at each other, and Ni Su blushed slightly.

“There’s porridge in the kitchen,” Xu He Xue said, understanding her embarrassment. He looked away, stood up slowly, leaning on the bedframe, and turned to leave. He paused, seeing her still holding his sleeve.

Ni Su quickly released his sleeve as if burned.

He left the room. Ni Su pulled the blanket closer, resting her cheek against the pillow, her gaze downcast.

Although he was gone, the faint breeze from his passing still stirred the curtain.

Ever since Xu He Xue had given Jiang Xian Ming the information, rumors had been circulating in Yun Jing about a lost tribute from the early years of the Emperor’s reign. Chief Censor Jiang Xian Ming had submitted a memorial, reopening the case from fifteen years ago, suggesting the treasure hadn’t been stolen by bandits, but embezzled.

This seemed absurd. Which official would dare embezzle from the Emperor?

But Jiang Xian Ming was known for his integrity, lending credibility to his claim.

The missing treasure was a five-foot-long white jade statue of a galloping horse treading on a flying swallow, said to be carved from a single piece of jade.

Its disappearance had been a source of frustration for the Emperor, especially now, with his focus on finances. Jiang Xian Ming’s memorial was timely, and the Emperor wouldn’t miss this opportunity to investigate his officials and replenish the treasury.

“This past month has been chaotic,” Pei Zhi Yuan said, entering the Hall of State Affairs, peeling peanuts. He wore his crimson robes and official hat. “Minister Meng, I think the officials are no longer as resentful towards you as they used to be. Their hatred is now directed at Chief Censor Jiang.”

Meng Yun Xian chuckled. “They’ve always hated him. Chong Zhi and I haven’t been in the capital for over a decade. Jiang Xian Ming must have made many enemies. You know that best, don’t you?”

“What do you mean? I’ve just been muddling along, not paying attention to such matters,” Pei Zhi Yuan said, waving his hand dismissively.

Meng Yun Xian raised an eyebrow. “You’re too modest, Min Xing. You’re shrewd.”

“Minister Meng, you flatter me!” Pei Zhi Yuan chuckled, bowing playfully, then glanced up and saw a couple standing by the red palace gate in the distance.

They didn’t stay long, only glancing towards the Hall of State Affairs before being escorted away by eunuchs and palace maids.

Pei Zhi Yuan straightened up and saw He Tong helping Zhang Jing, who wasn’t using his cane, towards the Hall of State Affairs.

“Minister Meng, was it really Minister Zhang who sent the letter to Prince Jia? If so, why hasn’t he met with the Prince since his return?” Pei Zhi Yuan asked, puzzled.

Prince Jia’s return hadn’t been accidental. It had been part of Meng Yun Xian’s plan. Whether Physician Nie Xiang had spoken the truth about the Emperor’s health while drunk or intentionally didn’t matter. What mattered was that the Emperor could no longer ignore the truth.

He had to face the fact that he couldn’t have any more children.

Only then would he remember his adopted son, Prince Jia.

“If it weren’t for Chong Zhi, why would Prince Jia send that letter?” Meng Yun Xian said, glancing at Zhang Jing’s retreating figure. “The Emperor was almost forty when he ascended the throne, and he suffers from chronic headaches, relying on medicine for relief. Back then, there were many outspoken officials in the court. Only a year after his ascension, they began urging him to appoint a crown prince. But he had no sons. They wouldn’t relent, finally forcing him to adopt his brother’s son, Zhao Yi, as his heir, but only bestowing upon him the title of Prince Jia, not Crown Prince, to appease them.”

“That was the year you submitted the ‘Qing Qu Shu’ and were appointed to the Grand Council,” Pei Zhi Yuan said.

“Indeed,” Meng Yun Xian said as they walked. “Looking back, the Emperor must have resented those officials who forced him to adopt an heir. Chong Zhi was one of them.”

The Emperor resented being forced to adopt a son so early in his reign. And when he saw Meng Yun Xian’s “Qing Qu Shu,” he had begun plotting his revenge.

The Emperor’s methods were subtle and far-reaching.

Meng Yun Xian and Zhang Jing had unknowingly become his tools, creating the current situation where imperial decrees were absolute.

“Prince Jia was forced upon the Emperor. How could he not resent him? Prince Jia’s childhood in the palace wasn’t pleasant. Then the Empress became pregnant and gave birth to Prince An. How could an adopted son compare to a biological son? Prince Jia’s position became even more awkward. Even after Prince An’s untimely death, the rift between him and the Emperor remained deep…”

Pei Zhi Yuan continued Meng Yun Xian’s thought. “Prince Jia wanted to be as far away from Yun Jing as possible. Why would he suddenly send a letter expressing his filial piety? The timing was too perfect.”

Even Pei Zhi Yuan and Meng Yun Xian weren’t certain they could persuade Prince Jia to return. They had intended to take their time, but the Prince’s unexpected letter had changed their plans.

“Therefore, Chong Zhi is the reason for Prince Jia’s return,” Meng Yun Xian said.

“Prince Jia only returned to see his teacher. I don’t know whether to be happy or worried…” Pei Zhi Yuan said, his expression complex.

Prince Jia’s return was a good thing, but he seemed unwilling to cooperate.

“We can’t rush this, Min Xing,” Meng Yun Xian said, patting his shoulder. “But I have another question for you. You’re usually so slippery. Why are you siding with Chong Zhi and Jiang Xian Ming today?”

“…Isn’t that what the Emperor wants? It’s Chief Censor Jiang who’s interrogating the officials and searching for the jade statue, not me. I’m just offering some empty praise now that the situation seems slightly more favorable,” Pei Zhi Yuan whispered, leaning closer. “The Censorate owes you a favor. I don’t believe you haven’t heard that after a month of searching, Chief Censor Jiang found the jade statue among Wu Dai’s confiscated belongings…”

Wu Dai, now a commoner, had amassed a vast fortune, which the officials were still cataloging after the New Year celebrations.

Meng Yun Xian didn’t comment. “Even so, the Emperor didn’t sentence Wu Dai to death.”

After all, the Emperor still remembered Wu Dai’s past service.

The day the statue was removed from the Wu residence, Wu Dai sat slumped in his chair, his face ashen, silent. The guards, carrying the confiscated belongings, left, leaving only an old servant in the vast, empty residence.

Jiang Xian Ming had questioned Wu Dai under imperial decree, but he was unresponsive, his mind seemingly addled, unable to answer any questions. He sat there, staring blankly at the doorway, then began to whimper.

The old servant, brewing medicine in the back courtyard, wiped the sweat from his forehead, unaware that two figures had entered the main hall.

“He truly seems to be suffering from dementia,” Ni Su said, seeing Wu Dai laughing and crying, tears and snot streaming down his face, mumbling incoherently. She took his pulse and examined him carefully. “Kidney deficiency, liver qi stagnation, and phlegm accumulation. If there’s also unresolved blood stasis, it could indeed lead to such symptoms. Memory loss, inability to recognize loved ones, confusion between right and wrong,” she said, looking at Xu He Xue, who was wearing a veiled hat.

Xu He Xue observed Wu Dai, his white hair unkempt, his head tilted as he stared at him.

“Come here,” Xu He Xue said to Ni Su.

As she approached, he drew his sword and pressed the cold blade against Wu Dai’s neck. Wu Dai seemed startled by the chill, but he didn’t flinch, reaching out towards Xu He Xue’s veiled hat.

Xu He Xue turned his wrist, the blade now pointing at Wu Dai’s eye, making his wrinkled face contort in fear. He trembled, his dry lips moving. “Ji Kang… my son, Ji Kang…”

The blade hovered inches from his eye.

Xu He Xue calmly observed his expression, then lowered his gaze. A dark stain had appeared on Wu Dai’s dirty robe.

He sheathed his sword and turned to see Ni Su, her face covered with a handkerchief, her hands covering her eyes.

“A-Xi,” he said softly, despite suspecting Wu Dai’s dementia was genuine, careful not to use her name in front of him.

Ni Su, hearing her rarely used childhood name, paused, her heart skipping a beat. The way he said it made it sound beautiful.

“Are you… done?” she asked, not daring to turn around, afraid of seeing a bloody wound.

“Turn around.”

“…No.”

“Then let’s go.”

Go?

Ni Su turned and saw that Wu Dai’s eyes were unharmed, but a dark stain had appeared on the floor before him. Xu He Xue stepped in front of her, blocking the sight. “It seems we can’t learn anything from him.”

“Then what do we do?” Ni Su asked, looking up at him.

The embroidered lotus flower on her handkerchief brushed against her cheek, shimmering in the sunlight. As the wind threatened to lift the handkerchief, Xu He Xue reached out and gently held it in place, covering her face.

Ni Su’s gaze moved from his pale fingers to his eyes, hidden behind the veiled hat.

“Ha ha ha ha…” Wu Dai suddenly burst into laughter. They both turned to see him clapping his hands, then pointing at Ni Su, mumbling, “Ji Kang, you should get married…”

He then pointed at Xu He Xue. “There’s a bride under the veil!”

Ni Su was speechless.

Chapter 49: Picking Mulberries (Part 6)

The rare sunshine melted the snow on the rooftops, the dripping water creating a peaceful rhythm.

Xu He Xue sat by the window, his hand on his knee, silently reading the ledger. Before giving Du Cong’s ledger to Jiang Xian Ming, he had made a copy.

The entries, spanning fifteen years, revealed a pattern in the flow of money.

The tea on the stove whistled as it boiled. Xu He Xue’s cold fingers didn’t feel the heat of the pot as he poured himself a cup and took a sip.

Still tasteless.

He could only smell its faint fragrance.

He looked up. The beaded curtain concealed the sleeping figure on the bed. She usually woke up early, but today was an exception.

Last night, after leaving the Grand Commandant’s residence, she had insisted on visiting Jiang Xian Ming’s house and had caught a cold.

Jiang Xian Ming was known for his integrity and lived a simple life, his residence less grand than Du Cong’s.

“Can you take me with you?” Ni Su had asked, worried about him being too far away. She had pointed at the roof. “I can wait for you there.”

Xu He Xue had nodded, carried her effortlessly to the roof, and carefully removed a tile, peering into the study below.

Jiang Xian Ming was speaking with his elderly steward.

“Master, that ledger someone threw at you is trouble. You’ve been investigating it for months, and you almost got caught at the entertainment district…” the steward said, trying to dissuade him. “They know the Emperor only listens to you, so they’re giving you all these old, troublesome cases. Minister Du is missing. What’s the point of investigating his past dealings?”

“That incident at the entertainment district wasn’t targeted at me. It was meant for Grand Commandant Miao, because of his memorial advocating for war,” Jiang Xian Ming sneered. “Although I don’t get along with that rough soldier, his memorial was correct. The Great Qi can’t keep paying tribute to the barbarians. Even if we wanted to, their greed would never be satisfied.”

“And just because Du Cong is missing, does that mean we should ignore his crimes? For fifteen years, over a dozen officials bribed him regularly, and he, in turn, sent money to those unnamed individuals. That money must have come from exploiting the people! I won’t let them get away with it.”

Jiang Xian Ming flipped through the ledger. “Minister Meng’s new policies only offer ‘generous salaries to foster integrity.’ But I believe generous salaries only fuel greed, ultimately harming the people.”

“Are you saying Minister Meng is afraid?” the steward asked. He had accompanied Jiang Xian Ming to Yongzhou and wasn’t ignorant of such matters. “After fourteen or fifteen years, has his time in Wen County softened him? But between the two, Minister Zhang suffered more. Fourteen years of exile… I heard he was even branded. His wife and son died on the way. He returned alone.”

Xu He Xue’s hand trembled, holding the roof tile.

He had heard about Meng Yun Xian and his teacher, Zhang Jing. He knew that after his death, his teacher had been stripped of his position and exiled.

Branded, shackled, a criminal, wandering for years, losing his family.

He knew all this.

But hearing it from others always pained him.

“Minister Zhang wasn’t exiled solely because of the failed reforms, but also because he was…” Even in his own home, speaking to his most trusted servant, Jiang Xian Ming couldn’t bring himself to say that Zhang Jing had been punished because of the Emperor’s anger.

Zhang Jing was Xu He Xue’s teacher.

Grand Mentor Wu had presented the Emperor with a poetry collection compiled by renowned scholars, which included two poems written by Zhang Jing and Xu He Xue, responding to each other.

The year Xu He Xue passed the imperial examination, Zhang Jing had written a poem titled “Midnight,” using characters from his student’s name.

“Ice soul, snow spirit,” was Zhang Jing’s description of Xu He Xue.

The poem was filled with a teacher’s pride and hope for his student. Zhang Jing had never been so openly affectionate towards his students before.

He had written the poem in a moment of joy, and it shouldn’t have been public knowledge, but another student, He Tong, had included it in a published collection of Zhang Jing’s works.

The poem became famous.

Xu He Xue had responded with a poem titled “Bamboo Heart,” vowing to be as resilient and upright as bamboo, serving his teacher, his friends, and his nation.

But no one had anticipated that these two poems would lead to Zhang Jing’s downfall five years later.

How could “ice soul, snow spirit” describe a traitor who had been executed by slow slicing? The enraged Emperor had ordered the destruction of the poetry collection and forbidden the republication of the two poems under penalty of thirty lashes.

This became known as the “New Calendar Poetry Case.”

After the incident, Zhang Jing was no longer a Grand Councilor.

Jiang Xian Ming sighed. “I can’t quite understand Minister Meng. He’s too enigmatic. But Minister Zhang is a true patriot, respected by scholars even in exile. I questioned him upon his return not to make things difficult for him, but to ensure the Emperor understood his stance. He had suffered enough. I didn’t want another ‘New Calendar Poetry Case.’”

“Last month, I requested access to the ‘Annual Performance Evaluations of Officials’ but was denied. I later learned that Minister Zhang had requested them. It seems he intends to rectify official conduct.”

Jiang Xian Ming stroked his smooth chin. “If that’s the case, my investigation of Du Cong’s dealings might benefit from his support.”

Xu He Xue, on the roof, immediately understood Jiang Xian Ming’s intentions. He turned to Ni Su and whispered, “Wait for me here. If you’re afraid, crouch down and don’t look down.”

Before Ni Su could reply, he stood up, holding the lantern, and his form dissolved into mist, drifting down into the courtyard.

“Who’s there?” the steward asked, startled by a shadow on the window screen. He rushed towards the door.

But as he opened it, a sword was drawn, its hilt striking his knee, and he fell back. The door slammed shut.

Jiang Xian Ming helped his steward up, his eyes fixed on the shadow on the screen. “Who are you?!”

“I gave you the ledger. I’m here to see what you’ve found,” Xu He Xue said, his voice low, standing by the window, holding the lantern.

“It’s you?” Jiang Xian Ming asked, surprised.

The steward realized this was the mysterious figure who had thrown the ledger at his master.

“Chief Censor, Ministers Zhang and Meng have just returned. The new policies are facing resistance. Are you being naive, relying on their support?” Xu He Xue asked, his voice low.

Jiang Xian Ming paused, considering the implications. He looked at the shadow. “Are you saying I chose the wrong person to give the ledger to?”

“I believe you have better options.”

“Such as?”

“Du Cong’s ledger mentions a ‘Galloping Horse Treading on a Flying Swallow’ statue, five feet long, made of white jade. If I remember correctly, it’s a treasure from a western kingdom that disappeared fifteen years ago while being transported as tribute.”

Jiang Xian Ming immediately remembered something. He flipped through the ledger and found the entry. He looked up. “Who are you?”

“It doesn’t matter. This statue is your ‘east wind.’ Why seek it elsewhere?” Xu He Xue said.

Jiang Xian Ming hadn’t paid much attention to the statue, unaware of its significance. This information was a breakthrough.

“Who were you meeting at the entertainment district that day?” the figure outside suddenly asked.

Jiang Xian Ming was instantly alert. “How do you know? Have you been watching me?”

The figure didn’t answer.

After a moment, Jiang Xian Ming heard a faint chuckle.

“Could it be…” he asked, his eyes widening, “were you the one who identified the barbarian at the entertainment district?”

Xu He Xue hadn’t actually seen Jiang Xian Ming there, but he subtly steered the conversation in that direction, prompting him to reveal his secrets. “Those who set a trap for Grand Commandant Miao might also know you, Chief Censor. You don’t have to do everything yourself.”

Jiang Xian Ming, still suspicious, asked, “Did you examine the ledger before giving it to me?”

“Fifteen years of transactions, totaling fifty-three million, six hundred thousand strings of cash,” Xu He Xue said calmly.

Jiang Xian Ming was speechless. The amount was correct. Was this truly the person who had given him the ledger? He thought for a moment. “Since you’ve seen it, you must know about Manyu Bank. I wasn’t at the entertainment district that day specifically to meet anyone. I was on my way to Manyu Bank when I saw their manager heading towards the entertainment district. I was curious who he was meeting, so I followed him.”

The manager of Manyu Bank was often away from Yun Jing, and the staff there knew little. Jiang Xian Ming had hoped to learn something from the manager, who had just returned.

“I can’t openly investigate the bank without concrete evidence, but as you suggested, I only need to find the ‘Galloping Horse’ statue to identify one of Du Cong’s contacts. With one, finding the others shouldn’t be difficult.”

Du Cong’s transactions went through Manyu Bank, but the statue, being a unique item, likely hadn’t passed through their hands. Therefore, he wasn’t worried about alerting them.

Jiang Xian Ming’s authority to investigate based on hearsay would be useful now.

Xu He Xue, having achieved his goal, was about to leave when Jiang Xian Ming called out, “Why did you give the ledger to me? Why not the Guangning Prefecture Yamen?”

Xu He Xue turned, the lantern light reflecting in his lifeless eyes. He looked at the figure behind the window screen.

It was now the twentieth year of Zheng Yuan.

In the fourth year of Zheng Yuan, the man in this room had been a young scholar in his twenties, full of patriotic ideals, traveling to the chaotic border town of Yongzhou to serve as governor.

Before him, three governors had been beheaded by the barbarians.

His first act as governor had been to fulfill the people’s desire for revenge by executing the traitorous general.

The Emperor’s decree had only specified the death penalty, but Jiang Xian Ming, heeding the people’s wishes, had ordered death by slow slicing.

Xu He Xue couldn’t remember what Jiang Xian Ming looked like. His eyes had been injured by a barbarian’s blade, and he couldn’t see.

He had only heard his voice, strong and filled with righteous anger.

“Everyone knows,” Xu He Xue said calmly, “that you, Chief Censor Jiang, value public opinion above all else. They see you as their voice.”

“That is all.”

The tea on the stove whistled again. A woman coughed softly behind the curtain. Xu He Xue, startled, stood up with his hand on the desk, poured a cup of hot tea, and carried it to the inner room.

“Did I sleep for a long time?” Ni Su asked, her voice thick with sleep, taking the tea and sipping it. Her dry throat felt better.

“Not too long,” Xu He Xue shook his head, taking the empty cup and placing it on a stool.

Ni Su rubbed her eyes, her gaze fixed on him. Although his expression was usually unreadable, she felt the lingering joy from their snowball fight had been replaced by a heavy sadness.

“What were you thinking about while I was asleep?” she asked, trying to understand his sadness.

Xu He Xue paused, turning around, and their eyes met unexpectedly.

She looked pale and weak, yet her eyes were filled with concern for him.

His throat tightened. He had remembered more of his past last night, his teacher’s stern face, rarely betraying any emotion.

But that same teacher, upon learning of his success in the imperial examination, had been too excited to sleep and had written a poem praising him lavishly.

Before that, Xu He Xue hadn’t realized how much his teacher valued him.

He had responded with a poem of his own, expressing his loyalty and gratitude.

Back then, he had truly believed he would serve alongside his teacher, fulfilling his expectations, becoming a scholar-official, a man of integrity.

The clearer the memories, the more unbearable the pain.

His teacher was alone now. He wanted him to live a peaceful life, free from hardship and suffering.

He couldn’t let Jiang Xian Ming drag his teacher into Du Cong’s mess.

He would walk this path alone.

Xu He Xue’s fingers clutched his robe. He looked at her, his voice hoarse. “Ni Su, I miss my teacher.”

Chapter 48: Picking Mulberries (Part 5)

Three days after the incident at the entertainment district, Cai Chun Xu personally invited Ni Su to a banquet at the Grand Commandant’s residence.

Except for Miao Jing Zhen, the Grand Commandant’s eldest son, who was on duty at the palace, the whole family was present.

Grand Commandant Miao was unusually quiet during the banquet. Only after it ended did he find an excuse to speak with Ni Su privately in the pavilion. Having shaved his beard, he looked more energetic than before. “A-Cai and my wife don’t know about this, so I didn’t toast you at the banquet,” he said, pouring her a cup of hot tea.

“There’s no need for such formality, Grand Commandant. I was released early from the Yin Ye Si thanks to Second Young Master and Sister Cai. And I imposed on your hospitality for many days. I don’t know how to repay you,” Ni Su said with a smile.

“Your family has shown kindness to A-Cai’s family, and she’s now part of our family. It’s all the same,” Grand Commandant Miao said, sitting down, his hands on his knees. “On the Lantern Festival, Miss Ni, were you at the entertainment district?”

“Yes, I’ve been in Yun Jing for a while and haven’t seen much of the city. I heard the entertainment district was lively, so I went to take a look,” Ni Su replied.

Grand Commandant Miao nodded. “Yun Jing has much more to offer than just the entertainment district. But how much longer do you intend to stay here?”

Although it wasn’t snowing tonight, the night air was cold. Ni Su held the warm teacup. “I plan to stay indefinitely.”

“I thought you wouldn’t want to stay here any longer,” Grand Commandant Miao said with a smile.

“I don’t, but I can’t abandon someone who helped me,” Ni Su said, blowing on her tea and taking a sip.

“Who are you referring to?”

Ni Su knew he was thinking of the figure he had glimpsed at the entertainment district. She shook her head. “Someone who helped me on my journey to Yun Jing.” She lowered her eyes, a faint white shadow flickering on the ground beside her.

“It’s good that you’re staying. If you feel lonely, you can always visit A-Cai at the residence,” Grand Commandant Miao said, then, unable to contain his curiosity, asked, “But I must ask, who was the young master with you at the entertainment district that day?”

He had been thinking about that figure for three days, the familiarity nagging at him.

“I don’t actually know him,” Ni Su said.

“You don’t know him?” Grand Commandant Miao frowned.

“I saw you at the entertainment district and was about to approach you when he stopped me. He warned me that you were in danger and told me to hide you.”

“There were so many people there. How did he know we knew each other? He must have been looking for me,” Grand Commandant Miao said, puzzled.

“I was also wondering about that, Grand Commandant. Was he an acquaintance of yours? My case is well-known in Yun Jing, and I’m close to your family. Did he perhaps know me beforehand?”

Ni Su’s counter-question made Grand Commandant Miao pause. He frowned, thinking, then rubbed his face in frustration. “Damn it…” He stopped mid-sentence, meeting Ni Su’s gaze, and chuckled awkwardly. “Forgive my language, Miss Ni. I’m a rough man, used to speaking coarsely…”

Ni Su, suppressing a smile, shook her head.

“Do you know who was waiting for me in that private room?” he asked.

“I left the entertainment district after you and Chief Censor Jiang escaped,” Ni Su said, feigning ignorance.

“It was a barbarian,” Grand Commandant Miao’s expression turned serious. “If I had gone there, my entire family would be in the Yin Ye Si’s prison now.”

“Although I don’t know who that young master is, he and you helped me greatly. I suspect that if he wasn’t involved beforehand, he must be a military officer who has seen battle,” Grand Commandant Miao said, instinctively reaching for his beard, then touching his smooth chin. “How else would he know so much about barbarians?”

A military officer.

Ni Su was stunned.

She remembered Xu Zi Ling’s hands holding a brush, turning pages, wielding a sword. But she often forgot that beneath his gentle, scholarly demeanor was a hidden strength, sharp as a blade.

Just like Grand Commandant Miao had said, he knew so much about barbarians.

Their customs, their mannerisms, their vast grasslands, their precious livestock… as if he had been there himself.

“Perhaps,” she finally said softly.

If the barbarian had survived, he would have implicated Grand Commandant Miao. Fortunately, the young man had killed all eight of them, leaving no witnesses for the Yin Ye Si to interrogate.

Grand Commandant Miao had invited Ni Su, using Cai Chun Xu as an excuse, hoping to learn the young man’s identity. But the conversation had only deepened his confusion.

As the night deepened, Grand Commandant Miao excused Ni Su and asked Cai Chun Xu to escort her home. He sat alone in the pavilion for a while.

Miao Jing Zhen, his eldest son, returned from the palace, his armor still cold. Seeing his father drinking alone in the pavilion, he approached and realized it wasn’t wine, but tea.

“…Father, what did Miss Ni say?” he asked, unbuckling his sword and sitting down opposite his father.

“She said she didn’t know him,” Grand Commandant Miao said, spitting out some tea leaves. “If she was lying, why would she lie to me?”

“Danqiu wants to increase the tribute. You just submitted a memorial refusing to pay and advocating for war. It’s not surprising that someone would use Uncle’s case to set a trap for you,” Miao Jing Zhen said, his face grim. “And they used a barbarian to implicate you. This is a deliberate insult.”

“Please think carefully before acting, Father. Don’t lose your composure just because of Uncle’s name.”

“It’s because the letter mentioned Yongzhou. You know your uncle died there. But I was seriously injured and not at the border then…” Grand Commandant Miao’s usual cheerful demeanor was replaced by a somber expression. “Jing Zhen, your uncle was only in his twenties when he died. He wasn’t even married. I have you and your brother, and two daughters-in-law, but his body was torn apart by barbarian blades. All I can give him is a symbolic tomb.”

“You lost your composure just because the letter claimed there were other circumstances surrounding Uncle’s death?” Miao Jing Zhen asked.

“Father, the military reports are still there. The officials who returned from Yongzhou are still alive, including Chief Censor Jiang. Everyone knows that the Danqiu general, Meng Tuo, used the Xu family from Qingya Prefecture as hostages, forcing the traitor Xu He Xue to lead thirty thousand Jing An Army soldiers to defect. And then Meng Tuo betrayed him, slaughtering them all at Mu Shen Mountain. If it weren’t for Uncle defending Yongzhou City with his life, we might not have held onto that strategic location until reinforcements arrived.”

At the mention of Xu He Xue’s name, Grand Commandant Miao’s face darkened. He crushed the teacup in his hand.

“If I had known he was such a coward, I would have sent him back to Yun Jing! Why did he have to… betray the Great Qi?!” he said hoarsely.

If he had stayed in Yun Jing, he could have remained a scholar.

Better to be in the court than on the battlefield.

At least he wouldn’t have been lost in the bloodshed, his promising future destroyed.

The sky was dark, a few stars twinkling.

Ni Su had visited the Grand Commandant’s residence before nightfall, so the lantern she carried hadn’t been lit by her. As she walked through the bustling streets and into a quiet alley, a faint mist tugged at her sleeve.

She crouched down, took out the flint and steel, opened the lantern, blew out the candle, and relit it. The flickering flame illuminated a child standing at a nearby doorway, watching her curiously.

The child grinned and threw a snowball at her.

But the snowball dissolved into snowflakes before reaching her, scattered by the cold mist. The child’s eyes widened, and he stumbled backwards, falling into his courtyard and crying loudly.

Ni Su couldn’t help but laugh.

“Xu Zi Ling, you’re becoming quite scary,” she said.

The mist swirled around her sleeve, forming a tall figure. He had been with her all along.

He didn’t speak, his eyes watching her silently.

Ni Su stood up, holding the lantern. “Let’s go home.”

The word “home” seemed to bring him a sense of comfort. Whenever she said it, she saw a flicker of warmth in his usually cold eyes. He always seemed more at ease then.

She enjoyed speaking to him like this.

Making a ghost who had been dead for so long happy wasn’t easy, but she wanted to try.

As they passed the house where the child was still crying, telling his mother about the “ghost,” Ni Su chuckled.

“Are you still in pain?” Xu He Xue asked, slightly uncomfortable.

Ni Su’s wounds hadn’t fully healed, and she had aggravated her injury at the entertainment district. “It’s not too bad. I’m applying medicine every day. Don’t worry, I’m a physician. I know what I’m doing,” she said, shaking her head.

“Mmm,” he replied.

“Did you hear my conversation with Grand Commandant Miao?”

“Yes.”

“Did I say anything wrong?”

“No, you handled it well,” Xu He Xue said, then, remembering her words, “I won’t abandon someone who helped me,” he added, “Ni Su, although I don’t remember much of my past, I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman like you.”

Ni Su paused and looked up at him. “What… what kind of woman am I?”

“You’re courageous and determined, not afraid of hardship or public opinion,” Xu He Xue stopped walking and met her gaze. “You’re an admirable woman.”

She didn’t shun him because he was a ghost, willing to stay in Yun Jing to help him fulfill his wish.

That’s why he admired her.

Ni Su was speechless. The lantern light illuminated the shimmering dust around him, making him seem ethereal, like a dream.

Her face felt warm. She looked away, mumbling, “I’m not as good as you say…”

“I’m not lying,” he said.

Ni Su, embarrassed, urged him forward.

Silence fell between them. Ni Su glanced at him, then scooped up a handful of snow from a branch. “Xu Zi Ling,” she said.

He turned around and she threw the snow at his sleeve.

The fine snowflakes clung to the fabric.

He looked at her, puzzled.

“Why didn’t you throw snow at me?” she asked, gathering more snow, a playful glint in her eyes.

Xu He Xue scooped up some snow and gently tossed it at her feet.

Ni Su looked at the small snowball and teased, “Do you need to eat candles to have enough strength to hit me?”

He didn’t reply.

Chapter 47: Picking Mulberries (Part 4)

“Commander Zhou, one of the deceased is a disguised barbarian,” Chao Yi Song reported as soon as Zhou Ting arrived.

A barbarian?

The private room was a mess. Zhou Ting saw only Han Chinese faces, except for the corpse on the table, its mask partially torn. He stepped closer and ripped away the remaining mask, revealing the distinct features beneath.

“Did anyone see what happened?” he asked, turning to his men.

“We questioned the witnesses. Someone mentioned a figure in white robes and a veiled hat, but they didn’t see clearly…” Chao Yi Song replied.

Most people in the entertainment district were too preoccupied with the festivities to notice anything else.

White robes, veiled hat.

Zhou Ting frowned, remembering the figure he had seen downstairs. “Chao Yi Song, search the building.”

“Yes, sir!” Chao Yi Song left and ordered his men to gather everyone downstairs.

Zhou Ting examined the barbarian’s body.

Although there was a truce between the Great Qi and Danqiu, tensions remained. A barbarian’s presence in Yun Jing was suspicious.

“Commander Zhou, we found a few people in white robes, but no one wearing a veiled hat,” Chao Yi Song said, returning, out of breath. “They all look like weak scholars, not capable of killing eight men.”

“Did you test them?”

“Yes, none of them have any martial arts training,” Chao Yi Song said, gesturing to a waiter. “He said he remembers the man in the veiled hat. He was listening to pipa music with a young woman.”

Zhou Ting looked in the direction the waiter indicated. An empty table, two cold teacups. He turned to the waiter. “What did the woman look like?”

“Sir, I didn’t pay close attention. But the man was carrying a lantern, even inside. I found it strange, so I looked twice. But that’s all I remember,” the waiter stammered.

Zhou Ting frowned, then said to Chao Yi Song, “Take the bodies back to the Yin Ye Si.”

The moon was bright, and snow fell like dust.

In the quiet, dark alley behind the entertainment district, Ni Su pulled away from Xu He Xue, her feet touching the ground. Hearing approaching footsteps and voices, a cold hand covered her mouth.

Snowflakes landed on her hair. Xu He Xue followed her gaze to his hand, a smear of blood on its back.

The voices faded, and he released her.

“Even if I can escape, what about you? You were here with me. If Zhou Ting investigates thoroughly, he’ll find witnesses. But if you weren’t here, you won’t be implicated,” Xu He Xue explained.

He leaned closer. “I know you wouldn’t agree, so I…”

He trailed off, but they both remembered him scooping her up and vanishing into mist, unnoticed by the crowd.

Ni Su hadn’t known he possessed such strength, his seemingly frail body capable of carrying her effortlessly.

“I know you didn’t want me to be taken to the Yin Ye Si again,” she said, still not looking at him. “But why does Youdu punish you for using your powers? You’re a ghost now. Shouldn’t you be able to use them freely?”

“Because these powers aren’t meant to be used here.”

“Then where are they meant to be used?” Ni Su asked, looking up at him.

Snowflakes landed on her face. Xu He Xue was silent for a moment, the blood on his hand and the dirt on his sleeve turning into shimmering dust in the moonlight. He looked up at the starry night sky. “It doesn’t matter. I won’t go there,” he said calmly.

Ni Su didn’t understand, but she knew the punishments he endured were severe, the wounds on his arm a testament to the pain he suffered.

“Let’s go back,” she said, the wind and snow stinging her face. “I have many candles. I’ll light them for you.”

The word “back” brought a sense of peace to Xu He Xue. He looked at her, and her simple words made him want to follow her, to go back with her.

“How did you recognize the barbarian?” Ni Su asked as they walked, supporting each other.

“Barbarians live on the plateau, herding livestock. Tribal conflicts over grazing land and animals are common. They carry scimitars from a young age, and their methods and habits are different from the Han Chinese. That man had no ornaments at his waist, yet he kept touching it unconsciously.”

Moreover, Xu He Xue had fought against the Danqiu barbarians for five years and knew their customs well.

“You had me hide Grand Commandant Miao because you knew he wasn’t involved. And the city patrol arrived so quickly, which means someone set a trap for him.”

Grand Commandant Miao, a high-ranking official, meeting a barbarian alone at the entertainment district on the Lantern Festival would be difficult to explain.

“But why were you so certain Grand Commandant Miao wasn’t involved?” Ni Su remembered his decisive action.

“He and the barbarians are sworn enemies,” Xu He Xue said.

His first year at the border, after abandoning his scholar’s life, had been spent in the Hu Ning Army, under General Miao Tian Zhao. It had been a formative experience, witnessing the brutality of war, the gains and losses of victory and defeat.

Miao Tian Zhao had killed countless barbarians. He might have recognized the man in the private room, but even if he hadn’t, the trap had been set, and he would have been implicated.

“Didn’t you question those men? Who were they? Why were they targeting Grand Commandant Miao?”

“They were determined to die. They wouldn’t say anything,” Xu He Xue shook his head.

Ni Su lowered her head. “I saw someone else there. Chief Censor Jiang. He entered the dressing room while I was helping Grand Commandant Miao change. He also seemed to be avoiding the city patrol and the Yin Ye Si.”

“Perhaps he’s made progress with the ledger,” Xu He Xue said, his expression changing slightly.

“When you’re feeling better, let’s visit Chief Censor Jiang,” Ni Su said.

Xu He Xue was about to reply when the lantern flame died, plunging him into darkness. “The candle burned out. I’ll lead you,” Ni Su said, taking his hand.

The alley was unlit and covered in snow. Ni Su discarded the lantern and, holding Xu He Xue’s sleeve, led him towards the light at the end of the alley.

A branch laden with snow snapped, and a pile of snow fell on Ni Su. She shivered and sneezed.

“Ni Su?” Xu He Xue, unable to see, reached out and his hand landed on her face as she turned around.

Her face was cold, covered in snowflakes. They wouldn’t melt against his fingers.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, withdrawing his hand.

“Nothing…” Ni Su shook her head, brushing the snow from her hair. More snow had collected inside her hood. “There’s snow in my hood. Help me,” she said, turning around.

Xu He Xue reached out, his fingers gently brushing the snow from her hood.

Ni Su glanced back at him. His face was barely visible in the moonlight and mist.

“Xu Zi Ling,” she suddenly said.

“Mmm?” he replied, still focused on brushing the snow from her hood.

“I think Grand Commandant Miao will ask about you. He wanted to ask at the entertainment district, but Chief Censor Jiang interrupted him. He’ll ask me again. What should I tell him?”

Xu He Xue’s hand, cold and wet with snow, paused. The wind blew open his sleeve, revealing a fresh, red wound. He was momentarily speechless.

“Xu Zi Ling,” Ni Su said, taking his hand. “Are you in pain? Let’s go back.” She didn’t want him to exert himself any further.

They walked in silence, their footsteps crunching in the snow.

Xu He Xue, relying on the woman who had summoned him, his eyes lifeless, said, “If he asks, tell him we met by chance and you don’t know my name.”

Met by chance, don’t know my name.

Ni Su looked at his jawline in the mist. “You didn’t come back to find an old friend, did you?”

“You avoid your teacher and Grand Commandant Miao, whom you clearly recognize. Why would you want to see your old friend?”

“You’re not looking for someone you care about, but someone you have a grudge against,” she said.

He cherished the memories of his past friendships, unwilling to tarnish them with his current state, choosing to walk this path alone.

“When I met you, I considered seeing him,” Xu He Xue said softly, after a long silence. “But Ni Su, I thought… they might not want to see me.”

His words weren’t spoken with sadness, but with a calm acceptance of reality. But they still stung Ni Su.

Why wouldn’t they want to see him?

Because he had been dead for fifteen years, unmourned?

The loyalty he clung to seemed to be unrequited, the world having abandoned him after his death.

“But,” Ni Su said, tightening her grip on his hand, snowflakes falling on her face, as they reached the warm, yellow light at the end of the alley, the sounds of the bustling street drawing closer, “but I don’t think you deserve to be treated like this.”

Chapter 46: Picking Mulberries (Part 3)

The brightly lit lantern tower illuminated the Yunxiang River, fireworks exploding in the night sky.

Ni Su, holding Xu He Xue’s sleeve, led him to a food stall under the Rainbow Bridge and ordered glutinous rice balls. The steam rising from the bowls quickly dissipated in the cold wind. Xu He Xue, lifting his veiled hat, clumsily took a bite.

The black sesame filling oozed out. He couldn’t remember if he had ever eaten this before.

“Did you see Prince Jia’s grand entrance today?” a scholar-looking young man in a straight robe asked his friend at a nearby table under an awning.

Xu He Xue’s fingers loosened, and the spoon clattered against the bowl.

“What’s wrong?” Ni Su asked, looking up at him.

Xu He Xue picked up the spoon, trying to appear nonchalant. “Nothing,” he said, shaking his head.

The young man’s voice continued to drift towards him. “So many imperial guards escorting his carriage, and they even used the Imperial Street…”

“It’s been fifteen or sixteen years. Surely the Emperor’s anger has subsided,” the other man said.

“It’s understandable that the Emperor was angry. Prince Jia pleading for his teacher was commendable, but that Xu He Xue? A traitor who abandoned the Great Qi and served the barbarians! If it weren’t for him, we wouldn’t have lost those cities north of Yongzhou! He deserved his fate!” the scholar said, slamming his hand on the table.

“Ni Su,” Xu He Xue suddenly stood up, putting down his bowl.

Ni Su, who hadn’t been listening to their conversation, had been watching the fireworks. Startled by his sudden movement, she asked, “Aren’t you eating anymore?”

The name “Xu He Xue” was tainted.

Even after sixteen years, the world hadn’t forgotten the accusations against him. Ni Su was only seventeen. When she was born, he had been on the battlefield, full of ambition, determined to reclaim the thirteen provinces lost to the barbarians.

By the time she was older, his name had been disgraced.

She might have heard his name spoken with disdain, perhaps even shared the same hatred.

He had a clear conscience, but he still didn’t want her to hear those words.

“No… I’m not hungry anymore…” he said, unable to stay there any longer amidst the festive atmosphere.

“Then let’s go to the entertainment district. We agreed to listen to pipa music there,” Ni Su said, paying for their food and pointing towards the brightly lit buildings.

Xu He Xue looked up, his vision blurred. The city lights and fireworks couldn’t illuminate his eyes. Only the lantern in his hand provided light.

The entertainment district was large and bustling. Storytellers captivated their audiences, musicians played melodies, and dancers twirled gracefully on a raised platform.

There were also small plays, puppet shows, and shadow plays.

Que County also had entertainment districts, but they couldn’t compare to Yun Jing’s. Ni Su and Xu He Xue went upstairs, where a waiter led them to a table. Behind a screen, a musician played the pipa, its notes like falling pearls.

The teacup was warm in his hand. Xu He Xue, peering through his veiled hat, observed his surroundings. Although he couldn’t remember much, he felt he had been here before.

More than once.

“Let’s listen to the pipa music for a while, then go listen to the storyteller,” Ni Su said. She had heard the storyteller’s captivating voice downstairs.

“Mmm,” Xu He Xue replied, his gaze sweeping over the staircase and landing on a group of men ascending.

The man in the center looked ordinary, but his build was larger than the others. Xu He Xue observed him closely, noticing his right hand repeatedly brush against his waist, where there was nothing, not even a jade ornament.

Something was amiss.

He watched as the group approached, their footsteps echoing behind him. He turned and saw the large man enter a private room, while the others dispersed into the crowd.

“Is that…?” Ni Su said, having been watching the activity below, noticing a familiar figure.

Xu He Xue followed her gaze.

It was Grand Commandant Miao.

Although dressed casually, his face was unmistakable. Xu He Xue watched him ascend the stairs, then glanced at the private room.

“Ni Su, stop Grand Commandant Miao and hide him,” he said urgently.

Ni Su, though puzzled, immediately stood up and intercepted the Grand Commandant on the stairs. “Grand Commandant,” she whispered.

Grand Commandant Miao looked up, surprised. “Miss Ni?”

“Grand Commandant, you can’t go there. Come with me,” she said, taking his arm and pulling him into a different private room.

Xu He Xue, seeing this, reached under the table and formed a sword from shimmering dust. He stood up and walked towards the private room.

Several pairs of eyes in the crowd followed him, but they didn’t move, watching as he opened the door.

Only the large man was inside. In the warm, yellow light, his face and neck were almost the same color. He looked at the white-robed young man, his eyes sharp and hawk-like. “Who are you?”

“Aren’t you waiting for me?” Xu He Xue asked, his face hidden beneath the veiled hat, his voice cold.

“I’m not waiting for a young man like you,” the man said, his hand instinctively going to his waist, then pausing, realizing there was nothing there.

“Perhaps I’m here on someone else’s behalf,” Xu He Xue said calmly, sitting down at the table. “Aren’t you waiting for Grand Commandant Miao?”

The man’s expression changed at the mention of the Grand Commandant’s name. His poorly disguised face betrayed his emotions.

“I’m waiting for Grand Commandant Miao,” he said, his eyes narrowed.

“Then tell me, what is your hand searching for?” Xu He Xue asked, placing the lantern on the table and looking up. “Your scimitar?”

“A barbarian scimitar,” he added.

The man’s face paled. He tried to stand, but the flash of the drawn sword blinded him. The blade pierced his hand, pinning it to the table.

“Aaargh!!!” he screamed in pain as blood spurted from the wound. The blade was withdrawn, then lightly sliced across his face, tearing the mask and revealing dark, rough skin beneath.

Several men outside the room heard the scream and rushed in, drawing their weapons and attacking the white-robed figure in the veiled hat.

Xu He Xue met their attack, his movements swift and precise, his sword piercing one man and disarming another.

A gust of wind briefly lifted his veiled hat, revealing his cold eyes.

The commotion in the private room was briefly drowned out by the noise in the entertainment district. Then, as someone passed by, the door burst open, and a body flew out, knocking him to the ground. People turned and saw the carnage inside, bodies lying in pools of blood.

Screams filled the air, and chaos erupted.

The incident quickly attracted the attention of the city patrol, who surrounded the building. The heavy thud of their boots echoed through the streets.

Ni Su had taken Grand Commandant Miao to a dressing room and offered him a set of loose, inconspicuous women’s clothes. “If you don’t want to be seen here tonight, you’ll have to wear these.”

Grand Commandant Miao, who had faced barbarian scimitars without flinching, now looked at the clothes with disgust.

“Hurry. The musicians are leaving. This is your chance to escape,” Ni Su urged.

Grand Commandant Miao felt a sense of dread, realizing he had walked into a trap. He took the clothes, thinking of the young man who had been with Ni Su. He looked familiar. “Is that young master your…?”

A knock interrupted him. He turned, his tense expression crumbling.

“Grand Commandant Miao?”

“Chief Censor Jiang?”

They spoke simultaneously, their gazes wary. Chief Censor Jiang looked at Ni Su and the Grand Commandant. “What brings you here tonight, Grand Commandant?”

Grand Commandant Miao forced a smile. “I should be asking you the same question, Chief Censor. You don’t seem like someone who enjoys such places.”

Jiang Xian Ming’s face stiffened, but he had no time for arguments. He didn’t know Ni Su and was wondering how to handle this situation when she spoke. “Chief Censor, are you also in trouble? Looking for a disguise?”

Jiang Xian Ming knew the Yin Ye Si would arrive soon. He couldn’t risk revealing his secrets, but he wouldn’t tell them to a stranger.

“I have another set of clothes here. They should fit you, Chief Censor,” Ni Su said, retrieving another set of women’s clothes from the cabinet.

Jiang Xian Ming, initially suspicious, saw Grand Commandant Miao standing there openly and assumed she was trustworthy. He took the clothes. “Thank you,” he said.

Unlike the hesitant Grand Commandant, he quickly changed. Grand Commandant Miao, scowling, followed him into the dressing room.

“Such ugly things…” Ni Su heard Grand Commandant Miao sneer from inside. He must be mocking Jiang Xian Ming’s appearance.

“Aren’t you an ugly thing yourself?” Jiang Xian Ming retorted.

Ni Su, worried about Xu Zi Ling, ignored their bickering and urged them to hurry. They emerged, dressed in women’s clothes.

Ni Su looked at their faces. “Perhaps… you should shave your beards?”

Their faces contorted in disgust.

Reluctantly, they shaved, styled their hair simply, and put on veiled hats. Jiang Xian Ming looked passable, but Grand Commandant Miao, much taller and broader, had to hunch over. They followed the musicians out the back door.

The Yin Ye Si hadn’t arrived yet. The musicians couldn’t leave the Jiaofang Si for too long. A city patrol officer questioned the women, then glanced at the two figures who clearly weren’t young women, feeling suspicious. Just as he was about to question them, a loud crash came from inside the building.

The musicians screamed and ran out. Jiang Xian Ming and Grand Commandant Miao, jostled by the crowd, followed them.

The officer, ignoring them, rushed inside and saw that a large bronze lamp had fallen, almost crashing through the stage below.

Ni Su searched the crowd for Xu Zi Ling, worried about his wounds.

“Ni Su,” a familiar voice said behind her.

She turned and saw the young man in white, standing there.

She sighed in relief, then heard someone call out from the entrance, “Commander Zhou!”

She turned and saw Zhou Ting entering. Panicked, she turned back, lifted Xu Zi Ling’s veiled hat, and hid her face against his chest.

He didn’t breathe, but she could feel his smooth, cold robe against her cheek, his faint scent of snow and spring flowers. Xu He Xue’s pale face registered surprise and alarm.

She was too close.

So close he could see every detail of her face, the fine hairs on her cheek.

“He can’t see us…” she whispered, embarrassed. She had just excused herself to write medical reports, and now she was here, at the entertainment district.

“Move back,” she tugged at his sleeve.

Xu He Xue, like a puppet, stiffly stepped back, pulling her with him, until they were hidden behind a half-drawn curtain.

Her breath against his face disrupted his thoughts. He turned his head slightly, avoiding her gaze, but the close proximity, hidden beneath the veiled hat, shattered his composure.

“Don’t move…” she whispered.

Seeing Zhou Ting approach the stairs, Xu He Xue quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her into a shadowed corner, shielding her with his body.

Zhou Ting, about to ascend the stairs, noticed a flash of white in his peripheral vision. He looked up and saw a figure in white robes, their back to him.

He suddenly remembered Chao Yi Song’s description of the snow satin. Was it like this?

He didn’t linger, hurrying upstairs.

Ni Su crouched beside a stand holding vases, her eyes welling up. Xu He Xue, lifting his veiled hat, noticed her distress. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I crouched down too quickly. It pulled at my wounds.”

“Ni Su, without using my powers, it’s difficult to escape Zhou Ting’s notice,” Xu He Xue explained. “I’ll return it to you when we get back. Just light more candles for me.”

“You can disappear. If he sees me, then he sees me,” Ni Su said, frowning.

She wouldn’t let him harm himself to protect her from embarrassment. But then she noticed bloodstains on his sleeve and quickly lifted it, but his wrist was unblemished.

“This…” she looked up.

Xu He Xue turned away, his face hidden by the veiled hat again, his gaze fixed on the private room upstairs, now surrounded by Yin Ye Si officers. “It’s not my blood.”

“It’s barbarian blood.”

Chapter 45: Picking Mulberries (Part 2)

After New Year’s Eve, the new year arrived. Amidst the national celebrations, the Emperor held a banquet for his officials, but that night, he ordered the execution of an imperial physician.

“You incompetent fools! All of you!”

Liang Shen Fu, the Chief Eunuch, his hands tucked in his sleeves, walked up the white jade steps, his head bowed against the wind and snow. He saw the imperial physicians kneeling outside the hall, the Emperor’s furious roars echoing amidst the sound of shattering porcelain.

The Emperor’s wrath was like a thunderstorm.

Liang Shen Fu and the kneeling physicians trembled. But Liang Shen Fu, a veteran of the imperial court, knew that if he didn’t intervene, the entire Imperial Medical Academy might suffer the same fate as Physician Nie Xiang.

He entered the hall and saw the Emperor, his face pale and his forehead damp with sweat, leaning on the bedframe, coughing violently. He hurried over and gently patted the Emperor’s back. “Your Majesty, calm yourself. Anger harms the body…”

“Where’s Nie Xiang?” the Emperor asked hoarsely.

“He’s been executed,” Liang Shen Fu replied.

The physicians outside the hall shuddered, bowing even lower.

“I ask you, do you agree with Nie Xiang’s diagnosis?” the Emperor asked in a low voice.

“Your Majesty…” the physicians trembled, kowtowing. “We’re terrified!”

They didn’t know what the Emperor wanted to hear, only hoping for mercy, cursing Nie Xiang inwardly. Who would dare say that the Emperor couldn’t have any more children? But Nie Xiang, drunk, had spoken the truth.

“Your Majesty, the pulse is ever-changing. I believe Physician Nie must have made a mistake due to his intoxication. The Imperial Medical Academy gathers the best physicians in the land. Nie Xiang is only in his twenties, still impetuous… he can’t be compared to the more experienced physicians,” Liang Shen Fu said cautiously. “Moreover, it’s the beginning of the new year, and Your Majesty is currently performing purification rituals…”

He stopped there, but his words earned him the gratitude of the physicians outside, who silently vowed to reward him with longevity tonics.

But Liang Shen Fu wasn’t truly defending them. He was giving the Emperor a way out. The Emperor couldn’t execute all the physicians. It would only confirm Nie Xiang’s diagnosis and damage the Emperor’s reputation.

As expected, the Emperor fell silent. Seeing him wave his hand dismissively, Liang Shen Fu turned to the physicians. “You may leave.”

Relieved, the physicians kowtowed and hurried out, wiping the sweat from their brows.

Silence returned to the hall. The Emperor lay back on the bed, rubbing his eyes.

“Nie Xiang’s words must not leave this palace.”

“Understood, Your Majesty,” Liang Shen Fu whispered.

The Emperor had already guessed the truth from the physicians’ reactions.

He was nearing sixty.

His only son with the Empress, Prince An, had died at the age of three.

He had used the new policies to consolidate his power, silencing his critics.

But now, even the imperial physicians were afraid to tell him the truth about his health.

The Qing He Palace was warm, but the Emperor shivered. “Liang Shen Fu, I’m… cold.”

Liang Shen Fu ordered more coals to be brought in, understanding the source of the Emperor’s chill. In previous years, Imperial Concubine Wu had been there to comfort him, but he had grown tired of her constant weeping and refused to see her.

“Your Majesty, Prince Jia has sent a letter,” Liang Shen Fu said, remembering something he had seen while organizing the memorials. He retrieved the letter and presented it to the Emperor.

Prince Jia?

The Emperor opened his eyes and looked at the letter.

Liang Shen Fu waited, his forehead damp with sweat, then heard the Emperor say, “Summon Pei Zhi Yuan and have him draft a decree summoning Prince Jia back to the capital.”

Pei Zhi Yuan, the Assistant Minister and Imperial Secretary, drafted the decree that night.

Prince Jia had been living in the Tongzhou Palace for fourteen years. Tongzhou wasn’t far from Yun Jing. Upon receiving the decree, Prince Jia and his wife immediately set off, arriving in Yun Jing on the Lantern Festival.

Imperial guards escorted their carriage.

“Your Highness, your hands are cold and clammy,” Princess Jia said, holding her husband’s hand. She was in her thirties, her face pale but still beautiful.

“Xi Zhen, I don’t know if I made the right decision, abandoning the peace I had,” Prince Jia said, his expression troubled, despite his fine clothes.

“Was it truly peaceful, Your Highness? Your heart was never at peace,” Princess Jia said, patting his hand. “I heard your teacher has returned after fourteen years of hardship, his health failing. He’s willing to come back. Do you still wish to remain in seclusion?”

The mention of his teacher made Prince Jia’s heart ache. “Yes, I must see my teacher.”

The carriage entered the palace and stopped at the Yongding Gate. Liang Shen Fu, accompanied by eunuchs and palace maids, was waiting. He bowed to the Prince and Princess. “The Emperor has been waiting for you, Your Highness.”

He only addressed the Prince, indicating that only he was summoned.

“Go, Your Highness. I’ll be waiting for you,” Princess Jia said, her gaze gentle.

Prince Jia, his throat dry, followed Liang Shen Fu silently. Although he hadn’t been to the palace in fourteen years, he knew his way around. He realized Liang Shen Fu was taking a detour and looked up, seeing a building through the snow-covered branches.

The Zhao Wen Hall.

Prince Jia’s pupils contracted. He quickly looked away, his body stiffening, a chill running down his spine. He understood the Emperor’s intention.

He ascended the white jade steps and entered the Qing He Palace, bowing deeply. He saw his own anxious face reflected in the polished floor and quickly composed himself. “Your servant greets Your Majesty.”

“Why don’t you call me ‘Father’?” the Emperor’s calm voice came from behind the curtain. “Are you still blaming me for sending you to Tongzhou?”

“I wouldn’t dare, Your Majesty. My wife’s health is delicate. I’m grateful for your consideration in sending us to Tongzhou to recuperate,” Prince Jia said, kneeling down.

He heard a rustling sound, then light footsteps. A hand lifted the curtain, and the Emperor, dressed in a red robe, looked down at him.

Prince Jia saw the Emperor’s robes reflected on the floor, then his feet approaching, stopping before him. He looked up.

“I have no other heirs. You showed great promise as a child. And when your father, my brother, Prince Gong, passed away, I heeded the court’s advice and adopted you, bestowing upon you the title of Prince Jia…” The Emperor seemed to be reminiscing, then his tone changed abruptly. “Back then, you and Xu He Xue studied together in the Zhao Wen Hall. Did you see it today? Has it changed?”

Xu He Xue. The name had finally been spoken.

Prince Jia’s fingers clenched beneath his sleeve. He lowered his head, feeling the Emperor’s gaze on him. “The scar on your forehead… it’s still there,” the Emperor said casually.

The scar was near his hairline, barely visible unless one looked closely.

“Father!” Prince Jia cried, not daring to look up.

He had received the scar fifteen years ago, kowtowing repeatedly outside the Qing He Palace, begging for Xu He Xue’s life. And a year later, he had kowtowed again, pleading for his teacher, Zhang Jing, and for Meng Yun Xian.

The scar was deep and wouldn’t fade.

“Yong Geng, it doesn’t matter if the scar remains. But tell me, what are your thoughts on him now?”

It was clear who “him” referred to.

Prince Jia knew the Emperor wasn’t just asking about his feelings towards Xu He Xue, but whether he still resented the decree from fifteen years ago.

His fingers clenched, his face reflected on the floor contorted with suppressed emotions. He bit his lip, his throat tightening.

“You said he cared only for his family, not for the nation, that he was a traitor, a threat to the Great Qi… deserving of death by slow slicing.”

“He and I… are no longer friends.”

The words were like knives twisting in his heart. He trembled, the Emperor’s hand on his shoulder making him stiffen.

“Yong Geng, don’t return to Tongzhou yet. Stay in the palace for a while.”

**

Xu He Xue sat on the porch, the wind rustling the pages of the book on his lap. He held it down with a finger and looked up at the fading sunlight on the eaves.

“Ni Su, it’s getting dark,” he said.

“Can’t you see? I’ll light the candles,” Ni Su said, biting off a thread as she sewed. She stood up, leaning on the table.

Xu He Xue blinked, his cold eyes softening. “No,” he said, turning to her. “I can still see. But you’ve been sewing for a long time. It’ll strain your eyes.”

“Oh,” Ni Su glanced at the courtyard. It wasn’t completely dark yet. She picked up the garment from the basket and shook it out, the smooth, white satin shimmering. “Look, I finished it.”

“While I was sewing, I was thinking about what color robe would look best with it. After much deliberation, I decided red would suit you,” she said, unfolding a piece of cloth and revealing a vermillion red robe, a simple cross-collar design with minimal embroidery.

“Go and try it on,” she said, pushing him towards his room.

Ni Su’s wounds hadn’t fully healed, but she had declined Cai Chun Xu’s offer to stay and sent Yu Wen and the other maidservants back to the Grand Commandant’s residence before New Year’s Eve. Now, with only Xu Zi Ling here, she pushed him into his room and closed the door. Seeing the unswept snow in the courtyard, she picked up a broom and began sweeping.

After a while, she felt warm, the pain in her lower back intensifying. She straightened up and looked towards the door. “Xu Zi Ling, are you done?”

The door opened almost as soon as she spoke.

While sewing, Ni Su had imagined how the satin would look on him, like frost under the moonlight. But reality surpassed her imagination.

The light gold embroidery on his round-collar robe shimmered like fish scales in the fading sunlight, the vermillion red of his inner robe a vibrant contrast, the matching sash, adorned with gold beads, accentuating his narrow waist.

His refined features and elegant demeanor, yet his posture was straighter, more imposing than that of a scholar, a certain coldness in his bearing.

A sharpness that contradicted the usual gentleness of scholars.

But Ni Su couldn’t pinpoint its source.

She dropped the broom and brushed her hair from her face. “Although this gift is late, it finally fits you.”

Unspoken emotions churned within him. Xu He Xue was grateful that as a ghost, he couldn’t easily express his feelings. He managed to speak calmly, his voice sincere. “Thank you.”

“How will you thank me?” Ni Su asked, walking slowly towards the steps.

Xu He Xue looked up. Perhaps it was from sweeping the snow, but her pale cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright as she looked up at him.

“There’s a lantern festival on the Lantern Festival. Would you like to go with me?” she asked.

“Didn’t you say you had to write medical reports at night?” Xu He Xue asked, remembering her excuse for declining Zhou Ting’s invitation this morning.

“You know I only have one patient, Lady Zhang. How many reports can I possibly write?” Although she was now known for her appeal at the Dengwen Drum Court, practicing medicine and seeking justice were different matters. People’s prejudices wouldn’t disappear overnight.

But Ni Su wasn’t discouraged.

Xu He Xue couldn’t deny the anticipation he felt for the lantern festival, like a moth drawn to a flame.

The wind blew snow into his sleeve, revealing the vermillion red of his inner robe, a stark contrast against the white. He nodded, giving in to his desire. “Alright.”

As night fell, Xu He Xue, wearing a veiled hat and carrying a lantern, stepped out of the clinic and saw Ni Su, startled by the exploding firecrackers on the ground, turn and bump into him.

She stumbled into his arms, the scent of snow and spring flowers faint around him. Disoriented, she looked up, seeing only the hazy outline of his face beneath the veiled hat.

She turned and saw the firecrackers scattering across the ground, the children who had lit them scrambling away.

“What are those…?” she asked, frowning.

“They’re called ‘ground rats’,” Xu He Xue said, the flickering lights triggering a memory.

“Zhao Yong Geng, look!” A young Xu He Xue, perched on the roof, had lit a firecracker and thrown it down. It exploded in the courtyard, startling a richly dressed young boy, who fell into a pile of snow, shouting angrily, “Xu Zi Ling, you’re teasing me again!”

And he had laughed, carefree.

“How did you know?” Ni Su’s voice brought him back to the present.

“I used to tease my friend with ground rats at my teacher’s residence,” he said.

“You teased people?” Ni Su asked, surprised.

“I was young and foolish then,” Xu He Xue said, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

“Was it that good friend you mentioned?” she asked as they walked on.

“Mmm,” Xu He Xue looked up at the fireworks exploding above the rooftops, their colorful reflections quickly fading. “Yes,” he whispered. “It was him.”

His closest friend.

Chapter 44: Picking Mulberries (Part 1)

Qinglan had been smiling.

But in Ni Su’s memories, her brother rarely smiled. He was like their father, serious and reserved even in his youth. While their father focused on his medical studies, it was her brother who had guided her, teaching her about medicinal herbs and life lessons.

Ni Su had always believed that if she ever made a mistake, her brother would be there to guide her back to the right path.

He was her brother, her teacher, her mentor. He had shown her that as a woman, she could choose a different path.

Not a caged bird, but a soaring swallow.

Ni Su wiped away her tears, wanting to see him more clearly, but his form, made of soul fire, was fading. She reached out, but her touch only hastened its dispersal.

“A-Xi, I’m proud of you,” Ni Qinglan’s voice echoed in her dream as the last of the soul fire was absorbed by the beast bead.

Ni Su opened her eyes. The pale morning light filtered through the window. She stared blankly at the bed canopy, then touched her wet face.

She remembered her brother’s disappearance, the beast bead returning to Xu Zi Ling’s hand, him helping her to bed, her crying into his blanket.

Her dream had been filled with her brother’s presence.

She touched the damp pillow and looked up, her eyes swollen. The green gauze curtain had been lowered. A figure sat at the desk, the sound of turning pages barely audible.

“Xu Zi Ling,” she called, her voice thick with sleep.

The figure stopped turning the pages and stood up, his movements slightly stiff. The punishment for using his powers at the Dengwen Drum Court must have been severe. Months of incense and candles hadn’t fully restored him. He leaned on the desk for support as he walked towards the curtain.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Ni Su saw his hand lifting the curtain, pale but otherwise normal, its bones elegant and graceful.

He wore a light green robe today, the white collar of his inner robe making him look like a snow-covered pine tree, his eyes clear and cold.

“You sat there all night?” she asked, noticing the scroll in his hand.

“I don’t experience physical fatigue. Even when I close my eyes, I’m not truly sleeping.”

As a ghost, his senses were dulled. He only felt pain because it was the Earth Lord’s way of punishing him.

Sleep, food, the things that sustained human life, were irrelevant to him.

When he closed his eyes, he was merely trying to recall his past.

Ni Su watched him put down the scroll, light the stove, and prepare tea. The room was warm, and she noticed the glowing embers in the brazier.

He must have replenished the coals throughout the night.

“I haven’t thanked you for letting me see my brother one last time,” she said, watching him from beneath the blanket.

Xu He Xue shook his head. “The Earth Lord gave you the beast bead as a reward. I couldn’t have done it without the bead.”

“A reward for what? For burning winter clothes for you? For summoning you back?”

“Mmm.”

“But…” Ni Su realized she couldn’t recall the face of the white-haired monk from Da Zhong Temple. “Why did he go through so much trouble to help you return?”

Fate was a strange thing. If she hadn’t met Xu Zi Ling, she might have come to Yun Jing alone and perhaps died without seeing her brother again.

What was Xu Zi Ling’s fate?

Xu He Xue paused, his gaze falling on the table. After a moment, he said, “Because what I seek is also what he seeks.”

The souls trapped in the pagoda in Youdu crossed the River of Resentment every year during the You Shi period, but few succeeded.

Without crossing the river, their resentment lingered, trapping them in the pagoda, their hatred and grievances growing with each passing year.

This wasn’t good for Youdu.

If resentment filled Youdu, it would destabilize the realm.

“Then…” Ni Su asked hesitantly, “what do you seek?”

This was the closest she had come to uncovering his secrets.

The wind rattled the window, and sparks flew from the brazier. Xu He Xue looked up, the bleak winter landscape outside mirroring the desolation in his eyes. “To cleanse those who deserve to be cleansed.”

Fifteen years ago, at Mu Shen Mountain.

Thirty thousand souls, their bodies left unburied in a foreign land, their blood staining the ground.

He wanted to cleanse their souls, clear their names, and bring them peace.

Even if he couldn’t retrieve their bones, he could restore their honor.

Ni Su didn’t fully understand. How could those who were already cleansed be cleansed further? But seeing him pour tea, she hesitated to ask again.

“Would you like some?” he asked, offering her the cup.

Ni Su glanced at him. He clearly didn’t want to elaborate. She sat up, took the cup, and drank a few sips. “Thank you,” she said softly, meeting his gaze.

The light outside grew stronger. Yu Wen entered to help Ni Su wash and dress. Xu He Xue quietly left the room and stood on the porch, unnoticed by the servants bustling around the courtyard.

“Sister Yu Wen!” a servant called, running from the front of the shop, carrying a food box, and passing Xu He Xue without seeing him. “Someone’s here for Miss Ni!”

“Who is it?” Yu Wen asked, walking out.

“They said… they’re here to consult her,” the servant said, handing her the food box.

Consult her?

Xu He Xue looked up and heard footsteps inside. Ni Su emerged, her eyes bright in the morning light. “Really?”

“They want you to visit them. They said they’re bedridden,” the servant said, scratching his head.

“I’ll go take a look,” Ni Su said, holding onto the doorframe. Yu Wen put down the food box and supported her, but she stopped and turned around.

Xu He Xue met her gaze and nodded, walking towards her.

A young woman in simple clothes stood nervously in the main hall, refusing the seat offered by a servant.

Seeing Ni Su, she took the offered tea. “I… my mother is unwell. It’s been six months, but she refused to see a physician and was afraid of medicine women. She’s been delaying treatment.”

She looked at Ni Su, slightly younger than herself, a flicker of doubt in her eyes. “I heard you come from a reputable medical family. I thought, if you dared to appeal to the Dengwen Drum Court for your brother, you must be a good person. So I wanted to ask you to treat my mother, if… if the fee is reasonable.”

With the resolution of the winter examination case and Ni Su’s appeal, the Ni siblings’ story was now well-known in Yun Jing.

“You’re the first person to come to my clinic. I’ll treat your mother for free,” Ni Su said, asking Yu Wen to bring her medicine box.

Ni Su refused Yu Wen’s offer to accompany her. She took a cane and asked the young woman, Zhang, to carry her medicine box, leaving without breakfast.

At Zhang’s house, Ni Su didn’t rush to examine the patient. She sat by the bed and chatted with Zhang’s mother, easing her anxieties.

She often used this method in the villages near Que County to build rapport with her patients.

Near noon, Ni Su left, leaning on her cane.

“Let me carry that,” Xu He Xue said, reaching for the medicine box.

Ni Su handed it to him. “Are you bored waiting for me?”

“No,” he said, taking the box and supporting her. Seeing her slow pace, he said, “Wait a moment.”

Ni Su stopped, watching as he placed the medicine box on the ground, took her cane, and crouched down before her, his light green robes pooling around him. He looked back at her, her expression blank, and called her name. “Ni Su.”

“Your wounds haven’t healed…” she said, clutching her sleeve.

“I’m not in pain anymore,” he said, then, remembering her holding the umbrella over him that night, added, “I’m not lying.”

Ni Su realized he had materialized. An old man carrying a heavy load passed by, staring at Xu Zi Ling curiously.

Ni Su quickly leaned down and wrapped her arms around Xu He Xue’s neck, her face against his back.

She felt his shoulders tense. She, too, was flustered, unsure where to place her hands.

Her fingers brushed against the smooth fabric of his robe. She looked up at his neatly combed hair and the jade hairpin.

Xu He Xue picked up the medicine box and carried her on his back.

Ni Su chattered, telling him about the prescription she had given and how she always left her patients’ homes before lunch in Que County.

“Do you know why?” she asked playfully.

“You’re afraid they’ll offer you food,” Xu He Xue said, walking along the riverbank, willow branches brushing against his hair. “Although they’re poor, they’re hospitable. They would offer you their best food, especially since you treated their mother for free.”

“You’re… so smart,” Ni Su said. She had been waiting for him to ask “why.”

Although raised in privilege, Xu He Xue wasn’t ignorant of hardship. He had seen the suffering of the people during his five years at the border.

“Practicing medicine seems to make you happy,” he said, remembering her eagerness when she heard about the patient and her cheerful demeanor while talking to Zhang’s mother.

“Having someone ask for my help is the best feeling,” Ni Su said with a smile. “Xu Zi Ling, with the first patient, it won’t be so difficult anymore, right?”

Her voice was filled with hope.

“Mmm,” Xu He Xue replied softly.

Few people walked along the riverbank. Thin ice had formed at the water’s edge. He carried her silently, then felt her cold fingers press something against his lips.

Ni Su hadn’t meant to touch his lips. She instinctively tried to pull back, but the object was already between his lips. “Open your mouth,” she mumbled, embarrassed.

Xu He Xue opened his mouth and took the object.

“Zhang gave it to me. I only took one,” Ni Su said, withdrawing her hand and watching his long eyelashes flutter in the wind. “Is it sweet?”

It was candy.

Xu He Xue lowered his eyes. “Mmm,” he said. “It’s sweet.”

Chapter 43: Calming the Waves (Part 6)

Zhou Ting dismissed the officers guarding Ni Su’s clinic and had Chao Yi Song bring in several ornate boxes, filling the table on the back porch. “The Yin Ye Si has been busy lately. We haven’t had time to visit, Miss Ni. These are gifts from the Director.”

“Director Han?” Ni Su was surprised. She couldn’t deny the fear she felt towards the Director, his interrogation still vivid in her memory.

“The Director admires your courage and loyalty in seeking justice for your brother. He personally chose these gifts. Please don’t refuse,” Zhou Ting said.

Chao Yi Song, standing behind him, had a strange expression, as if he wanted to say something.

“Then please thank Director Han for me,” Ni Su said, bowing.

“You’re injured, Miss Ni. There’s no need for formalities,” Zhou Ting said, instinctively reaching out, then withdrawing his hand. He looked at her pale, thin face. “How are your wounds healing?”

He had first met her in the Yin Ye Si prison, injured and tortured.

She was always injured, her body growing thinner each day, but he knew beneath her frail appearance was a steely resolve.

Cai Chun Xu, observing their interaction, smiled and instructed a servant to take the gifts inside. She placed a cushion on a chair and helped Ni Su sit down. “Her wounds are healing well, Commander Zhou. Why don’t you sit down and have some tea? Perhaps you’d even stay for dinner.”

Cai Chun Xu’s hospitality was overwhelming. Zhou Ting couldn’t find an opportunity to decline. Chao Yi Song, ever helpful, pushed him down onto the chair and grinned at Cai Chun Xu. “Is there enough food for me as well?”

“Of course,” Cai Chun Xu said with a smile, placing a hand warmer in Ni Su’s hands.

“Excellent!” Chao Yi Song sat down beside Zhou Ting and winked at him. “Commander Zhou, let’s stay for dinner!”

Zhou Ting ignored him and said to Cai Chun Xu and Ni Su, “Thank you for your hospitality.”

Xu He Xue, inside, heard the door open next door. Standing by the window, their voices drifted in, sometimes clear, sometimes muffled. He didn’t listen closely, his gaze fixed on the beast bead in his hand. It was quiet, no flicker of soul fire.

He looked through the thin gauze curtain at Ni Su, wrapped in a thick cloak, sitting with Cai Chun Xu.

He returned to his desk and sat down, shimmering dust gathering in his fingertips and seeping into the bead. But the carved bead remained unresponsive.

He sat there, holding the bead, trying repeatedly, until darkness fell and his vision blurred.

Cai Chun Xu prepared a feast, warming a pot of wine and pouring a cup for Zhou Ting. “Commander Zhou, my husband was taken to the Yin Ye Si twice, but you didn’t torture him. I want to thank you and Director Han for your kindness.”

“You’re too kind, Lady Cai,” Zhou Ting said, raising his cup. “The Yin Ye Si only questioned Chaofeng Lang. There was no need for torture.”

“Regardless, thank you for protecting my Sister A-Xi for so long,” Cai Chun Xu said with a smile.

“It was my duty,” Zhou Ting said, nodding to her, unsure how to respond to her teasing gaze, and drank his wine.

Ni Su, still injured, couldn’t drink alcohol and raised her teacup instead. “Commander Zhou, I knew from the beginning that my case would be difficult, but I’m deeply grateful for your and Director Han’s efforts.”

Even though she knew Han Qing and Meng Yun Xian were only helping her because it served their own purposes, she didn’t care.

Wu Ji Kang’s conviction and execution were all that mattered.

Zhou Ting could handle Cai Chun Xu’s playful banter, but under Ni Su’s earnest gaze, he fell silent, simply raising his cup and drinking.

After the toasts, only Cai Chun Xu and Chao Yi Song’s voices filled the room. Zhou Ting was naturally taciturn, and Ni Su was distracted, constantly glancing at the dark room across the courtyard.

As darkness fell, Chao Yi Song, leaving the clinic with Zhou Ting, said excitedly, “Commander Zhou, I saw that snow satin again!”

“What snow satin?” Zhou Ting asked absently.

“The unfinished men’s garment I mentioned, the one that was ruined during the search for Chuan Wu. I saw a bolt of the same satin when I was helping the servants put away the gifts. Snow white with light gold embroidery. It must have been expensive!” Chao Yi Song looked at Zhou Ting’s tall, sturdy figure. “You always wear your military uniform. I’ve never seen you in scholar’s robes.”

“Don’t be absurd,” Zhou Ting frowned.

“Why is it absurd? I haven’t seen Miss Ni with any other young men, only you, sir,” Chao Yi Song said, avoiding a puddle. “I don’t understand you, sir. Those gifts you gave Miss Ni today, weren’t some of them from you? Why didn’t you mention it? Now that her brother’s case is closed, and she’s gotten her revenge, if you don’t act quickly, what if she leaves Yun Jing and returns to Que County? After all, Yun Jing isn’t a pleasant place for her.”

Zhou Ting paused, his eyes downcast.

She had risked her life for justice, and she had gotten it. Would she stay in Yun Jing, the place where her brother had died?

“One more word, and you’ll be punished,” he said, his expression hardening, quickening his pace.

Chao Yi Song sighed inwardly. Commander Zhou was a good man, but clueless when it came to matters of the heart.

Cai Chun Xu, after dismissing the servants, turned to Ni Su. “Sister A-Xi, what are your plans?”

“What?” Ni Su asked, still looking at the room across the courtyard.

“I’ve made inquiries. Commander Zhou comes from a good family. Although he’s a military officer, his family are scholars. His father is a fourth-rank official…” Cai Chun Xu said with a smile.

Ni Su finally understood. She met Cai Chun Xu’s gaze and smiled wryly. “Sister Cai, I have no romantic interest in Commander Zhou.”

Cai Chun Xu thought, Perhaps not now, but who knows about the future?, but she didn’t say anything, only asking, “Then tell me, what kind of husband are you looking for?”

What kind of husband?

Ni Su thought for a moment. “Someone who respects my aspirations.”

“And?”

“And…” Ni Su bit her lip. “I’m not a good cook. It would be nice if he could cook.”

“How many men are willing to cook?” Cai Chun Xu chuckled.

“There are some,” Ni Su said.

“Anything else?” Cai Chun Xu asked, helping her walk into the courtyard.

The night air was cold, their breath misting in the air. Ni Su looked up at the starlit sky.

She found the brightest star. “Someone like a star. Clean and bright.”

Cai Chun Xu was puzzled. “There’s no such man.”

As the night deepened, Cai Chun Xu excused herself and returned to the Grand Commandant’s residence, after instructing Yu Wen to attend to Ni Su.

“Miss Ni, why are you sleeping here tonight?” Yu Wen asked, puzzled, from outside the room. Xu He Xue, sitting in the darkness, his eyes lifeless, blinked.

“I…” Ni Su said hesitantly, “the smell of medicine in my room is too strong. I wanted to sleep in a different room.”

“Oh…” Yu Wen didn’t suspect anything.

Xu He Xue heard the door open and Yu Wen’s voice. “The lamp isn’t lit, Miss. I’ll…”

“No need. Just give me the flint and steel. I’ll do it myself,” Ni Su interrupted.

“But your wounds…” Yu Wen hesitated.

“It’s nothing. I can manage.”

The lantern light on the porch illuminated the room, casting long shadows. Ni Su saw him sitting in the darkness, his eyes half-closed, his form faint as mist.

Yu Wen handed her the flint and steel, helped her sit down at the table, placed several candles beside her, and left.

“Are you… sleeping here tonight?” Xu He Xue asked, listening to her movements.

“Does it bother you?” she asked.

“No,” he said softly.

As a ghost, how could he be bothered? This was her house, her belongings. She could do as she pleased.

“If I hadn’t told Yu Wen that, how could I come see you?” Ni Su said, placing the candles on the candlestick. “You seemed unhappy today. I was afraid you wouldn’t come even if I called you.”

“I wasn’t unhappy,” Xu He Xue said, turning towards her voice, unable to see her in the dark.

“Then why didn’t you appear beside me on the way back from the execution grounds?”

Cai Chun Xu, Yu Wen, and Zhou Ting had been there, but not him. He had been a faint mist, as if a gust of wind could scatter him.

Ni Su lit a candle, illuminating his dark, empty eyes, their gazes meeting unexpectedly.

The wind howled outside, rustling the dry leaves.

Xu He Xue opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Ni Su lit more candles, the room brightening, the light reaching his eyes, allowing him to see her face.

“Do gentlemen also lie?” she suddenly asked.

Xu He Xue’s fingers clutched his robe. “I just…”

“Just what?” Ni Su stood up, leaning on the table, ignoring the pain and the sweat on her forehead. She walked to the bed and looked back at him. “May I?”

Xu He Xue’s fingers relaxed, almost dropping the beast bead. His voice was slightly hoarse. “…Yes.”

She could do as she pleased.

He even wished she wouldn’t ask, that she would simply lie down beside him. He had no right to refuse.

The bright candlelight allowed him to see her clearly as she lifted the blanket and lay down beside him, in her clothes, her head on his pillow…

He blinked and looked away.

“Are you unhappy because I haven’t been good to you?” Ni Su asked, nestled under his blanket, smelling the familiar scent of snow and spring flowers, cold and refreshing.

She curiously pressed her face against the blanket, inhaling the scent.

“No…” Xu He Xue started to say, then stopped, his eyes widening.

What was she doing?

As a ghost, he couldn’t feel warmth or blush, but her actions stirred emotions he hadn’t felt since he was alive.

“…I’m sorry,” Ni Su said, realizing her behavior was strange, a blush rising on her pale cheeks.

She had truly overstepped this time.

Silence fell upon the room. They sat there, one on the bed, one at the desk, both avoiding each other’s gaze.

“Why didn’t you answer my question?” Ni Su asked, looking up at the bed canopy, clearing her throat.

“You’ve been very kind to me,” Xu He Xue said, smoothing the wrinkles on his sleeve. “But I… I wish you wouldn’t…”

Don’t be so kind to me.

He had intended to say those words, ever since seeing his hand at the execution grounds.

But looking at her now, selfish desire held him back.

Ni Su, not understanding his silence, was about to ask again when his expression changed. He raised his hand, and the beast bead, emitting a strange light, floated out of his palm.

Ni Su watched as the light swirled, gradually forming a faint figure.

Her pupils contracted. She immediately got out of bed, ignoring her pain, and approached the figure.

He wore the same clothes he had been wearing in the mud Buddha statue, the clothes she had watched her mother sew for him.

“Brother…” she whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief.

It felt like a lifetime ago. Her brother’s face and voice had begun to fade from her memory, but seeing him now, the past came alive.

“A-Xi,” the figure projected by the beast bead said, his image clear and clean, unlike the decaying corpse in the statue.

Hearing his voice, Ni Su’s eyes welled up, and she burst into tears.

“A-Xi, you’ve lost so much weight,” Ni Qinglan said, reaching out, unable to touch her. “You’ve suffered so much for me.”

“It wasn’t suffering,” Ni Su said through her tears, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, wanting to see his face more clearly. “Brother, it wasn’t suffering…”

He was the brother she remembered, his features so familiar.

“If I had known, I wouldn’t have listened to Father,” she sobbed. “If you hadn’t gone to Yun Jing for the examination, you wouldn’t have died. I wanted you to be safe, to be alive. I miss you so much. Mother misses you too…”

Her courage, her strength, crumbled in the face of her grief.

“I’ve seen Mother,” Ni Qinglan said, unable to wipe away her tears.

“A-Xi, I didn’t want you to do this for me. You’re my little sister. I wanted you to be happy, to not suffer like this.”

“But A-Xi, I’m also happy. Having a sister like you is my greatest blessing,” he said, smiling at her. “Don’t grieve for me anymore. You’ve done enough. I see it all. Mother sees it too.”

“Are you afraid, now that you’re alone?”

Ni Su shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “No.”

“I know you’re not,” Ni Qinglan nodded. “When you secretly studied medicine and Father beat you, you weren’t afraid. You’re a strong woman. I’ve always known that.”

Ni Su took a book from her sleeve, her hand trembling as she opened it. “Brother, do you remember our agreement? We were going to write this medical text on women’s ailments together. You taught me first, and you said when I grew up, when I had more experience, I would teach you…”

“I can’t do that anymore,” Ni Qinglan said, shaking his head gently, his gaze soft. “But A-Xi, you can do it, can’t you?”

“I can,” Ni Su said, her voice choked with tears. “I will. I’ll dedicate my life to writing this book, carrying on your legacy. I’ll make sure women are no longer ashamed of their ailments. I’ll make sure your work lives on.”

“I, Ni Su, will devote my life to this cause.”

Chapter 42: Calming the Waves (Part 5)

Leaving Meng’s residence, the palace gates were already locked. Han Qing didn’t go to the Yin Ye Si but returned to his private residence outside the palace. The steward who opened the door handed him an umbrella respectfully.

“Has Elder Sister gone to bed?” Han Qing asked, walking into the courtyard.

“Mistress said she would wait for you…” the steward said, glancing at him cautiously.

Han Qing didn’t reply and dismissed the steward. As he reached the porch, a maidservant emerged from a room, carrying a bowl of medicine, her face etched with worry.

“Master,” she bowed, seeing him.

“Give it to me,” Han Qing said, taking the bowl of dark, steaming medicine and putting down his umbrella.

“A-Qing? Is that you?” a female voice called from inside the room, tinged with joy.

“Elder Sister, it’s me,” Han Qing replied, carrying the medicine inside.

He saw the woman turn from her dressing table, a smile on her weathered face. She hurried over to him. “A-Qing, where have you been?”

“Working outside,” he said with a forced smile.

His sister frowned, taking his hand. “Didn’t I tell you not to work? You enjoy studying. I’m getting married soon. Then you’ll have money for your studies!”

When working outside, Han Qing didn’t wear his eunuch robes, concealing his condition from his sister.

But her words always pained him. He forced a smile. “Elder Sister, I… I’m not studying anymore.”

“Why not? Didn’t you say you wanted to make something of yourself? Didn’t you say you wanted me to be the sister of a Jinshi?” she asked, her grip tightening on his hand.

“Elder Sister, don’t get married,” he pleaded.

“Why not? They’re a good family. And more importantly, once I’m married, you can focus on your studies. We’ll have money for Mother’s medicine…”

She shook her head resolutely. “Listen to me. Don’t worry about these things. Even after I marry, I’ll still be your family. I’ll take care of you.”

“They’re not good people…” Han Qing said, his throat dry, the warmth of the bowl making his palms sweat. “Elder Sister, they won’t treat you well.”

If they were good people, they wouldn’t abuse her.

If they were good people, he wouldn’t have been forced to become a eunuch to pay for his mother’s medicine.

If they were good people… she wouldn’t be in this state.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, her eyes filled with confusion.

Han Qing composed himself and scooped up a spoonful of medicine. “Elder Sister, you have a cold. You should take your medicine.”

“I have a cold?” she murmured. “How much does this medicine cost?”

“Don’t worry, Elder Sister. I bought it with the money I earned. I didn’t steal it. But if you don’t drink it, it’ll be a waste.”

She took the bowl and drank the bitter medicine in one gulp. Han Qing cautioned her about the heat, then the steward’s voice came from outside. “Young Master, a guest has arrived.”

Footsteps approached, and a man in dark robes, a sword at his waist, entered the courtyard, his clothes damp with rain. “Director,” he called out.

The porcelain bowl slipped from Han Qing’s hand and shattered.

He turned to his sister, her face pale and bloodless. She began to tremble, screaming, “A-Qing! He’s here to kill me! I’m going to die!”

“Elder Sister…” Han Qing tried to comfort her, but she pushed him away and knelt down, kowtowing towards the figure in the doorway. “Your Honor, I was wrong! I didn’t mean to kill my husband! He beat me! I couldn’t take it anymore! Please don’t kill me…”

Zhou Ting stepped back, hiding behind the door.

Han Qing crouched down and held his sister, patting her back gently. “Elder Sister, no one is going to kill you. Don’t you remember? The Emperor pardoned you…”

“…Did he?” she asked, her eyes vacant.

“Yes,” Han Qing said, looking at the streaks of gray in her hair. She was only forty. “Elder Sister, no one can hurt you now.”

The autumn rain pattered against the window.

Han Qing remembered Meng Yun Xian’s words.

The Emperor’s whims could override the law.

When the law was unjust, like with his sister, who had endured years of abuse, her husband unpunished, and she, driven to desperation, had injured him, facing execution.

But the Emperor’s words had set her free.

When the law was just, like with Wu Ji Kang, who had cheated and caused Ni Qinglan’s death, deserving punishment.

But the Emperor’s favoritism had forced Ni Su to risk her life, appealing to the Dengwen Drum Court.

Indeed, the Emperor was above the law.

“What is it?” Han Qing asked Zhou Ting after comforting his sister and sending her to bed.

“Wu Ji Kang has been sentenced to death.”

“Has the execution date been set?” Han Qing wasn’t surprised. The Emperor’s purge was nearing its end. Wu Ji Kang’s case couldn’t be delayed any longer.

“Yes, the fifteenth of this month,” Zhou Ting replied.

Han Qing nodded, then asked, “Have you visited Ni Su?”

“I visited her after the Dengwen Drum Court incident, but I’ve been busy with the Yin Ye Si matters since then.”

Zhou Ting hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in days.

“A woman endured sixteen lashes and survived. Even I admire her courage and loyalty,” Han Qing said, looking at the rain. “It’s almost New Year’s. I have some gifts. Have them prepared, and take them to her when you visit.”

Zhou Ting was surprised. He had never seen the Director show such compassion or admiration for anyone. But then he remembered the woman inside and understood.

Perhaps it was empathy, seeing a reflection of his own sister’s suffering in Ni Su’s plight.

“Yes, Director,” he said.

***

On the fifteenth day of the twelfth month of the nineteenth year of Zheng Yuan, Wu Ji Kang was executed at the Caishikou execution grounds.

It was the depths of winter, everything bleak and desolate.

A large crowd had gathered. Wu Ji Kang, dressed only in thin inner robes, his legs too weak to support him, was carried onto the platform.

The sight of the executioner’s block made him tremble. He looked down at the sea of faces, their curses ringing in his ears.

The presiding official sat at his table, stroking his beard and looking at the sky, calculating the time, ignoring the rotten vegetables being thrown at the platform.

Ni Su, still unable to walk without assistance, was helped by Cai Chun Xu. She saw He Zhong Ping and the other scholars, who bowed to her from across the crowd.

She returned their greeting.

Someone in the crowd recognized her as the woman who had been beaten at the Dengwen Drum Court. They parted, making way for her.

Wu Ji Kang saw her standing below, dressed in mourning clothes, her thin figure and clear eyes a stark contrast to the surrounding chaos.

He had looked down at her from his palanquin then.

He was still looking down at her now, but from the execution platform… The thought was unbearable.

The presiding official waved his hand, and the executioners forced Wu Ji Kang onto the block. He struggled, looking up at the heavy blade, and screamed, “Your Majesty, save me! Sister, save me! I don’t want to die!”

But today, there were no servants to protect him, no stern father, no doting sister in the palace.

Only the cold stares of the scholars, the judging eyes of the crowd, and… Ni Qinglan’s sister.

Wu Ji Kang had never felt so alone and terrified. He cried out for the Emperor, for his sister, struggling against the ropes binding him.

“The time has come,” the presiding official said.

The winter sun offered little warmth, only a blinding light. Wu Ji Kang babbled incoherently, tears and snot streaming down his face. He saw the young woman standing below.

A faint smile touched her pale lips.

Her smile enraged him further. His pupils contracted, and he laughed and cried hysterically.

The presiding official raised his hand, and the officers began to loosen the ropes holding the blade. Ni Su watched as Wu Ji Kang was held down, the crowd roaring, the blade falling… and a hand suddenly covered her eyes.

The thud of the blade cutting through flesh. Wu Ji Kang’s cries ceased.

“It’s best you don’t see this, Miss Ni,” Zhou Ting’s deep voice said beside her.

Amidst the noise, Xu He Xue, standing beside Ni Su, looked at his translucent hand in the sunlight. He clenched his fingers and lowered his hand, withdrawing it silently.

But then, he felt something. He opened his hand, and the beast bead appeared, emitting a faint, shimmering light.

The light of soul fire.

The platform was splattered with blood. Ni Su pushed Zhou Ting’s hand away and saw Wu Ji Kang’s severed head.

His eyes were wide open, frozen in terror.

She turned away, retching, tears streaming down her face. She clutched her dress, then forced herself to look again, to remember the face of her brother’s killer.

“Brother Ji Ming, rest in peace!” He Zhong Ping cried.

The other scholars and even the crowd echoed his words, calling out Ni Qinglan’s name, wishing him peace.

The cold wind numbed Ni Su’s ears. She looked at the bloodstained platform, then at the faces calling out her brother’s name, tears blurring her vision.

Brother, can you see this?

May you be reborn into a better world, free from worldly troubles and your father’s constraints, free to pursue your true aspirations.

Your little sister, Ni Su, can only do this much for you.

Chapter 41: Calming the Waves (Part 4)

On the first day of the tenth month of the nineteenth year of Zheng Yuan, the Emperor issued a decree regarding the “Double Ninth Festival Plea” at the Dengwen Drum Court. Wu Ji Kang, the Emperor’s brother-in-law, was found guilty of undermining the new policies, cheating in the imperial examination, and causing death.

Grand Mentor Wu fainted after kneeling for days at the Yongding Gate, and Imperial Concubine Wu’s repeated requests for an audience with the Emperor were denied.

It rained heavily that day.

The streets of Yun Jing were bustling. People celebrated the Emperor’s just decision, burning paper money for the deceased Ni Qinglan.

The thirty-six scholars who had endured the beating with Ni Su wrote memorials for Ni Qinglan, burning incense and paper money.

“Brother Ji Ming, if you can hear me, are you at peace now?” He Zhong Ping asked, burning his memorial and looking up at the black lacquered memorial tablet, its gold characters blurring through his tears. “If the Emperor is punishing Wu Ji Kang, it must be the death penalty. But Brother Ji Ming…”

He swallowed hard. “I wish his life could bring you back.”

“Brother He, don’t grieve so. Today is a day for celebration. Ji Ming must be happy in the afterlife,” a scholar said, patting He Zhong Ping’s shoulder and burning his own memorial. “Brother Ji Ming, although we didn’t know each other, we are all disciples of Confucius and Mencius. I’ve read your poems and essays and know your character. May you, in your next life, soar high on the back of a kunpeng, fulfilling your aspirations!”

He stood up, lit incense, and bowed.

The small room was crowded, some people even standing on the porch. They lit incense and bowed towards the memorial tablet.

Despite their injuries from the beating, they had all come to pay their respects to Ni Qinglan.

Ni Su, having received sixteen lashes, could barely stand, but she had insisted on changing into mourning clothes and, with Cai Chun Xu’s support, burned two sets of winter clothes for her brother.

Whether it was the smoke from the burning paper or the pain from her wounds, Ni Su’s eyelids twitched, and her forehead was damp with sweat.

She released Cai Chun Xu’s hand and bowed to the assembled scholars. “Thank you all for coming to pay your respects to my brother. At the Dengwen Drum Court, you showed me that justice ultimately resides in the hearts of the people. And as long as our hearts remain true, justice will prevail.”

“My brother wasn’t sociable and had few close friends, but after his death, you all fought for him. I believe that even in death, my brother considers you his friends.”

“Well said, Miss Ni! After this, we consider Ji Ming our friend, regardless of life or death!” a scholar said, bowing in return.

They, too, were injured and didn’t stay long.

“Sister A-Xi, go back and rest. You can barely stand…” Cai Chun Xu said, seeing the bloodstains on the back of Ni Su’s dress. She and Yu Wen helped her back to her room.

As she reached the door, Ni Su turned back, looking at the memorial tablets of her mother and brother, smoke curling from the incense burner. She bit her lip, her eyes welling up.

“Where’s the medicine the Emperor bestowed? Yu Wen, bring it quickly,” Cai Chun Xu said, helping Ni Su lie down on the bed.

After issuing the decree against Wu Ji Kang, the Emperor had sent a eunuch with a message praising Ni Su’s courage and loyalty and bestowing gold, silver, silk, and fine medicine.

Although the medicine was effective, applying it was excruciating. Ni Su clutched the pillow, her mind hazy with pain, until she heard Cai Chun Xu say, “It’s done, Sister A-Xi.”

Cai Chun Xu had seen Ni Su’s wounds before, but each time, the sight was horrifying. She straightened Ni Su’s clothes, sat on the edge of the bed, and wiped the sweat from her forehead. “It’s finally over…” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “You almost died, but you got justice for your brother.”

“So, Sister Cai, I’m happy,” Ni Su said, her voice still hoarse. The rain outside smelled fresh and clean.

Cai Chun Xu, seeing her half-open eyes, her face pressed against the pillow as she inhaled the scent of rain, gently stroked her damp hair. “Sister A-Xi, you’re the most admirable woman I know.”

Ni Su smiled. “Sister Cai, you’re the best sister I’ve met in Yun Jing.”

“Now that everything is resolved, get some rest. I’ll join you for dinner when you wake up,” Cai Chun Xu said with a smile, then left the room.

Silence fell. Ni Su closed her eyes and whispered, “Xu Zi Ling.”

“Mmm,” a faint mist coalesced into a human form behind the screen.

Ni Su clutched the blanket, her eyes still closed. “Will Wu Ji Kang truly be executed?”

Although the Emperor had issued a decree, the court was still debating the punishment.

“The Emperor is determined to implement the new policies, and Wu Ji Kang’s crimes include ‘undermining the new policies.’ This alone warrants the death penalty. Although they’re still debating, I believe they’re only discussing the execution date,” Xu He Xue said, sitting on the couch, his back to the screen. “And…”

“And what?”

“The execution might not be soon. Punishing Wu Ji Kang might just be the beginning. The Emperor might also purge officials from the Censorate and the Hanlin Academy.”

Ni Su was silent for a moment. She understood that even Han Qing and Meng Yun Xian weren’t helping her purely out of altruism. They were using her brother’s case for their own political gain.

“I can wait. I’ll watch him die at the execution grounds. But I feel like I’m dreaming. Every time I sleep, I’m afraid I’ll wake up and everything will be gone.”

The pain from her wounds made her feel detached from reality.

“Are you afraid of starting over?” he asked.

“No,” she replied. Even if she had to, she would fight for her brother again.

Xu He Xue looked out the window at the rain and mist. “Then sleep.”

His voice was soothing. Ni Su’s mind drifted, lulled by the sound of the rain. This was the most peaceful sleep she had had since arriving in Yun Jing.

***

As Xu He Xue had predicted, the decree against Wu Ji Kang was only the beginning. The Emperor’s purge of the Censorate and the Hanlin Academy continued until the end of the year.

The Yin Ye Si’s torture chamber was filled with blood. Dozens of officials were demoted, their homes confiscated, their bodies tortured. A dark cloud hung over Yun Jing.

The officials who had embezzled the river dredging funds were also punished, including Grand Mentor Wu, who was stripped of his rank and titles.

“The Yin Ye Si has been busy lately. You look thinner,” Meng Yun Xian said, returning home and taking the tea offered by Han Qing, removing his official hat but not changing his clothes.

“Being busy is a good thing. Many of those who opposed you most vehemently are gone now,” Han Qing said, his eyes tired but his tone satisfied.

The conflict between the Censorate and the Hanlin Academy had been brewing for a long time. Meng Yun Xian had helped Jiang Xian Ming bring the winter examination case to the Emperor’s attention, anticipating the ensuing arguments.

The escalation into open conflict had also been within his expectations.

They weren’t truly fighting over an unknown scholar’s death. It was a political power struggle.

Few truly cared about Ni Qinglan. They were using his name to attack their opponents.

And Meng Yun Xian and Han Qing had benefited from this conflict, like fishermen reaping the rewards of a fight between a snipe and a clam. They had orchestrated this struggle, eliminating several opponents of the new policies.

Meng Yun Xian took a sip of tea. “We removed a few obstacles to the new policies, and the Emperor removed those who opposed his Mount Tai ceremony and colluded with the imperial clan to amass wealth.”

“Isn’t this a win-win situation? The Emperor has the funds for his palace, and you’ve eliminated your opponents. But you don’t seem happy, Minister Meng,” Han Qing said, observing his expression.

“I just remembered twenty years ago, when your sister was released from prison. You came to me, kowtowing until your head bled, and you smiled at me. I was happy too,” Meng Yun Xian said, a flicker of a smile crossing his face, then vanishing. “Back then, we thought we had won.”

“Didn’t we?” Han Qing asked, puzzled.

Meng Yun Xian shook his head. “The real winner was the Emperor.”

“How so?”

“I was in my forties when I was first appointed to the Grand Council. Seeing the deep-rooted corruption in the Great Qi, I submitted the ‘Qing Qu Shu,’ proposing new policies. The Emperor’s approval made me enthusiastic. I worked with Chong Zhi to rectify official conduct, showing no mercy, making many enemies. I thought any sacrifice was worth it, especially with the Emperor’s trust.”

“But then General Xu He Xue was executed for treason in Yongzhou, and a year later, Chong Zhi and I were discarded without hesitation. I wondered if our new policies had made any difference. It wasn’t until years later, after my demotion to Wen County, that I realized the failed reforms hadn’t changed anything for the nation or the people. But one thing did change.”

“What?”

“The Emperor’s power, and our power to advise him.”

Meng Yun Xian’s expression turned somber. “Han Qing, I thought I was doing something good for the nation and its people, but I was merely a knife in the Emperor’s hand, used to silence his critics.”

At some point, the shared governance between the Emperor and his officials had ended.

“According to the law, your sister should have been executed. But why was she spared? You were too young then, and I was too naive to think about it.”

Meng Yun Xian asked, “Your sister’s life was spared because of me, but not entirely because of me. Do you understand the meaning of ‘imperial law’?”

Han Qing thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No.”

“The Emperor is above the law,” Meng Yun Xian sighed.

Han Qing was stunned.

The Emperor had used the new policies to establish his decrees as superior to the law. That’s how his sister had been spared. But Han Qing couldn’t say whether this was good or bad.

Personally, he was grateful.

But for the sake of justice, he felt sorry for Meng Yun Xian. Decrees were based on the Emperor’s whims, while laws were meant to uphold justice. When decrees superseded laws, it harmed the nation.

“Then the Emperor’s decision to summon you and Minister Zhang back to re-implement the new policies… is it also…” Han Qing trailed off.

“The Emperor implemented the new policies before for power, and this time, he might not be truly prepared to face the pressure from the imperial clan,” Meng Yun Xian said, listening to the rain and smiling faintly. “The Emperor is annoyed that the imperial clan is amassing wealth while he struggles to fund his palace. Chong Zhi and I are merely tools to intimidate the imperial clan and the officials.”

“He wants money.”

“But I don’t care what he wants. As long as I can fulfill his wishes and eliminate my obstacles…” Steam from the tea obscured his expression. “It’s a win-win situation.”