WNST - 142

Chapter 142: Do What Can Be Done

Bianjing. The old imperial palace now belonged to its new masters. The Qi forces were doing everything they could to imprint the city with symbols of Daqi, but everywhere one looked, it felt like an awkward cuckoo occupying another bird’s nest. 

On the second day of the seventh month, it was Wanyan Puruo’s birthday. Compared to the grand celebrations held in the palace in previous years, this year’s subdued affair reflected the shadow cast by their recent military defeat. The once-rising star, Princess Wanyan Puruo, was forced to tone down her festivities. 

The birthday banquet was held at her private residence, attended only by close ministers and female guests. Though called a banquet, its true purpose was for Wanyan Puruo to use the occasion to curry favor with officials and gather intelligence on the current political landscape. 

It was during this rare open gathering that Nan Yi planned to infiltrate the princess’s estate. 

She and Qiujie had been in Bianjing for several days and had already connected with spies from Bingzhu Division. After days of surveillance, they finally located Xie Zhu. He was now posing as one of Wanyan Puruo’s advisors, residing within her mansion. 

The Qi king had granted the princess permission to establish her own administrative court, so her estate served not only as a residence but also housed government offices, a military camp, and advisory chambers. Its defenses rivaled those of the imperial palace. Even today, with the influx of guests, security remained tight. All attendees were required to present invitations personally handwritten by Wanyan Puruo—forgery was impossible. 

But Nan Yi had found a loophole. A certain noblewoman was scouring the city for rare calligraphy and paintings, knowing that the princess favored scholarly artifacts over silk and finery. Desperate to win her favor, the woman was willing to pay handsomely. 

Nan Yi brought her a timely offering: a painting purportedly an authentic masterpiece by Wang, titled Landscape of the Realm. The sprawling artwork depicted majestic mountains and rivers, executed with breathtaking skill. Even those unfamiliar with art were awestruck at first glance, exclaiming it a priceless treasure. 

In truth, it was a forgery painstakingly copied by Qiujie over five sleepless nights. But it was more than enough to fool the Qi nobles, who knew little about art. 

The noblewoman immediately offered to buy the painting, but Nan Yi declined gold and silver. Instead, she claimed to have read extensively and heard of the princess’s appreciation for talent. She hoped to secure a position in the princess’s service and asked the noblewoman to introduce her during the birthday celebration. 

The woman, delighted to save money and seeing no harm in Nan Yi, readily agreed. 

Following in the noblewoman’s wake, Nan Yi successfully slipped into the princess’s estate. 

Scanning the crowd of guests, Nan Yi spotted Xie Zhu. Perhaps a shred of conscience remained—he seemed aware that revealing his identity would bring ruin upon the Xie family—so he kept a low profile, seated inconspicuously in a corner. Seeing his hypocritical, self-righteous demeanor made Nan Yi’s blood boil. She clenched her teeth, itching to exact vengeance on the spot. 

But now was not the time for rash actions. While everyone was gathered at the banquet, Nan Yi needed to seize the opportunity to slip away unnoticed. 

Just then, the arrival of an important guest caused a stir before they even entered. Many seated ministers rose to greet him enthusiastically. From the surrounding chatter, Nan Yi learned that the guest was the Eighth Prince. As the youngest son of the Qi king, he had never accompanied his father in battle. Raised in luxury, he was infamous for his dissolute lifestyle—spending his days indulging in wine, women, and frivolity. He was a notorious playboy of the royal court. 

Surrounded by attendants, the Eighth Prince entered the banquet hall. Unable to resist curiosity, Nan Yi glanced at him. He was like a peacock on display, wearing a golden hairpiece adorned with gemstones and a deliberately understated yet striking black robe embroidered with intricate constellations in gold thread. As he moved, sunlight danced across the fabric, making the dark garment shimmer brilliantly.

Indeed, he was a young nobleman who had grown up amidst mountains of gold and silver—his opulent demeanor spoke volumes. 

For some inexplicable reason, Nan Yi’s mind briefly wandered, and for a fleeting moment, she almost mistook him for Zhang Yuehui. 

Snapping back to reality, Nan Yi quickly seized this heaven-sent opportunity, slipping away unnoticed while everyone was distracted. 

The noblewoman who had brought her in merely assumed Nan Yi had gone to relieve herself and thought nothing of it. In truth, she had no intention of actually introducing Nan Yi to the princess—it would be beneath her dignity. She planned to make up an excuse later, claiming the princess wasn’t interested in meeting her. 

Nan Yi had anticipated this lack of sincerity and thus felt confident enough to slip away boldly. 

The current residence of the princess had once been the Tai王府 (Prince Tai’s Mansion) of the Dayu dynasty, and its layout hadn’t changed much over the years. Having studied the map beforehand, Nan Yi navigated the grounds with relative ease, stealthily making her way toward the advisory chambers. Before coming, Qiujie had informed Nan Yi that her father was particular about feng shui arrangements at home. Beneath the eaves of his residence, there would surely be protective copper bells, and Daoist talismans would be pasted on the doorframes. Using these clues, they should be able to locate Xie Zhu’s quarters quickly. 

Most of the guards were stationed in the front courtyard, leaving the advisory chambers relatively unguarded. Thievery was Nan Yi’s old trade, and she soon slipped into Xie Zhu’s room undetected. 

Everything was going smoothly—perhaps too smoothly. 

But Nan Yi couldn’t afford to dwell on that now. She hastily searched through the shelves in Xie Zhu’s study. Faint strains of music drifted from the distant banquet hall, making the silence in the room even more pronounced. The only sound she could hear was the pounding of her own heart, her entire body tense and trembling with anticipation. 

Where could that memorial be hidden…? What if it didn’t exist at all? 

In the front courtyard, the banquet was reaching its midpoint. Wanyan Puruo accepted every toast offered to her, already flushed and tipsy. Just then, a servant approached her hurriedly and whispered something in her ear. 

“Your Highness, the woman accompanying Lady Zhuo Lu today is not her usual maid. We’ve been watching her since she entered, but she somehow slipped away just moments ago…” 

A sharp glint flashed through Wanyan Puruo’s drunken eyes. 

The fish had taken the bait. 

She had received intelligence that spies from Bingzhu Division in Jinling had infiltrated Bianjing, their target seemingly Xie Zhu. Knowing Xie Zhu was under her protection, she had anticipated that the spies would try everything to approach the princess’s estate. Thus, she had arranged a tight network of informants at the birthday banquet, monitoring everyone who came and went. 

She glanced at Xie Zhu, and the servant immediately understood, adding: “There’s been no unusual activity around Lord Xie.” 

Not targeting Xie Zhu? 

Wanyan Puruo paused, suddenly realizing something. Could they be after what Xie Zhu had brought with him? 

The advisory chambers! 

Before she could issue any orders, the Eighth Prince suddenly staggered over, reeking of alcohol, holding a cup of wine. 

“Aunt, allow me to offer you a toast—to wish you a joyous birthday!” 

Wanyan Puruo reluctantly raised her cup to reciprocate the Eighth Prince’s toast. However, the prince, seemingly drunk, swayed forward unsteadily, spilling the wine all over her. 

“Oh no—Aunt, forgive my clumsiness! What should we do? Quickly, someone attend to Her Highness and help her change clothes!” 

The Eighth Prince clumsily tried to wipe the spilled wine off Wanyan Puruo, interrupting her train of thought. The maidservants crowded around her, blocking the reporting servant from view. 

With no time to spare, Wanyan Puruo gave the servant a quick, subtle glance. He was sharp and immediately understood, silently slipping away from the crowd to search the rear courtyards. 

Meanwhile, Nan Yi was still frantically searching for the crucial memorial in Xie Zhu’s room. 

Stacks of similar documents lay piled up, and she couldn’t possibly take them all. She had to sift through them one by one. Her reading skills were rudimentary at best, so to speed things up, she scanned each document for mentions of Xie Queshan’s name. 

Finally, buried at the bottom of the pile, she found a document bearing his name. Seeing that familiar name brought tears to her eyes. The handwriting was distinct from the others—surely this was Shen Zhizhong’s own hand. 

Upon entering the estate, she had been thoroughly searched and couldn’t bring any weapons. 

Just as her heart raced with apprehension, a voice—both familiar and strange—spoke behind her: “We’re on the same side.” 

Startled, Nan Yi turned to see a face that stunned her for a moment. 

Wasn’t this Qiao Yinzhi, Xie Heng’s concubine? She seemed thinner now, her skin darker, her hair tied back in a neat ponytail. Dressed in the uniform of a palace guard, her eyes brimmed with wary alertness. It was hard to believe she had once been a delicate concubine of a noble family—there was no trace left of her former fragility. 

During the Lunar New Year, Nan Yi had discovered that Qiao Yinzhi was a spy for the Qi forces. Before she could inform Sixth Sister, Xie Queshan had let her go. 

She had almost forgotten about her. Seeing her again now stirred up a flood of memories. 

But why was she here—and claiming to be on their side? 

Qiao Yinzhi pulled Nan Yi, her mind racing with questions, into a secluded grove of trees. After ensuring no one was around, she began removing her own clothes. 

“Change into these,” she instructed briskly. 

“Why are you helping me?” Though Nan Yi remained cautious, she immediately complied and began changing clothes. 

This uniform of a palace guard was something people outside would kill for—it was worth a fortune. Whatever Qiao Yinzhi’s intentions, wearing this disguise certainly wouldn’t hurt. 

“If I don’t help you, should I help the Qi forces instead?” 

Nan Yi remained guarded: “If you give me your clothes, what will you do?” 

Sensing Nan Yi’s hesitation, Qiao Yinzhi explained: “After Lord Xie San released me, I had nowhere to go and returned to Husa. He placed me in the Black Crow Camp for easy access to his commands. After his death, I stayed in the camp and was eventually transferred to serve as a guard in the princess’s estate. My position is secure—even without this uniform, I can leave whenever I want.” 

“… Thank you.” 

“No need to thank me,” Qiao Yinzhi paused, her tone softening slightly. “Lord Xie San spared my life. This is how I repay him.”

Nan Yi’s nose tingled, her heart aching as she thought of all the silent deeds he had done. There were no words, only actions left behind.

After changing clothes, Qiao Yinzhi led Nan Yi confidently down an unguarded narrow path.

Just as they emerged from the end of the path, they came face-to-face with a group of soldiers sent to search for intruders.

The lead guard immediately grew alert upon seeing them emerge from the secluded route. “Who goes there!”

...

At the banquet, the drunken Eighth Prince was making more trouble than help. In his attempt to clean up the spilled wine, he accidentally knocked over some dishes, leaving Wanyan Puruo in disarray. She couldn’t summon her attendants to issue orders at this moment.

Someone had sneaked into her estate, and she hadn’t caught them yet. The situation could spiral out of control at any second. Frustrated but unable to lash out at her nephew, Wanyan Puruo forced a smile, repeatedly assuring him it was fine, just wanting the useless drunkard to leave her alone.

Then she glanced down at his hands.

That person… had beautiful hands. She remembered those hands calmly pushing chips across the table in front of her, their joints defined, long and pale. She had seen them countless times, fluttering like butterflies over an abacus, handling transactions worth tens of thousands of taels. She often found herself staring at those hands, even fantasizing for a fleeting moment about being held by them, touched by them.

She would never forget.

Suddenly, Wanyan Puruo grabbed the “Eighth Prince’s” wrist. With a swift motion, she pulled a golden hairpin from her hair and slashed it across his face.

Long hair fell loose, revealing a crack on his face—but strangely, there was no blood.

Underneath the skin, there was another layer.