BXG - 40

◎ Candor ◎

Lord Fu Qingnian’s residence was located in Xianming Ward, the closest to the imperial city in Bian Capital. Xianming Ward was home to the wealthy and noble, and the Fu family, an aristocratic lineage, had a sprawling estate spanning both sides of the road, not far from the ward gate. Qu You dozed off in the carriage, only waking when Zhou Tan finally lifted the curtain and entered.

“You shouldn’t have come,” he said.

Qu You immediately became more alert. “I investigated the Liu household—the confession is indeed problematic. If this case is a trap set by Fu Qingnian for you, how do you plan to proceed?”

Zhou Tan continued to frown at her, speaking softly. “Consort Gui arranged your marriage to me, hoping you’d look down on me and cause trouble. When you led the petition after the fall-from-the-tower case, it likely drew their attention. If you’re still aligned with me now…”

Qu You understood his implication but remained silent. Zhou Tan looked up at her, noting her slightly furrowed brow. “I thought bringing you into the Ministry of Justice meant I considered you one of my own.”

The carriage bells outside continued to jingle, but inside was silent. After a long pause, Zhou Tan awkwardly called out a name he’d never used before: “A Lian…”

She had no formal courtesy name—friends, past or present, usually called her “You You,” except for Yin Xiangru, who occasionally called her “A Lian.”

A name that once sounded ordinary now made her heart pound like a drum when spoken by Zhou Tan.

Perhaps it was the inherent ambiguity of the character “Lian”—his lips seemed to carry a natural tenderness as they formed the word.

After calling her name, Zhou Tan also seemed uncomfortable. He coughed lightly to cover it, continuing, “I’ve lost the emperor’s trust and the chancellor’s favor. Neither the regent nor the crown prince seek what I desire. Struggling to survive here feels just like when you first met me under the candlelight.”

“I doubted you, tested you, and even considered using you, but later decided against it. You willingly fight for justice for the common people. All I can do to make amends is minimal. You are pure-hearted and deserve to find someone who cherishes you—a life filled with freedom, friends, travels to famous mountains and rivers, living freely and meaningfully.”

Their initial meeting came to mind—her casual words, remembered so clearly by him.

“I assigned you to the Ministry of Justice because you questioned justice beneath the Drum of Appeals and showed great interest in the law. I thought this was what you aspired to. But matters involving me are far more complex than you imagine—officialdom, politics, partisan struggles—one misstep brings disaster to the entire family. Take the Liu case—I initially thought it was merely avenging your old friend, which is why I allowed you to get involved. Upon seeing the confession, I realized my mistake.”

“So you hurriedly sent me back, not wanting me to continue investigating?” Qu You steadied her heartbeat and responded. “Unfortunately…”

“Unfortunately, you’re too clever,” Zhou Tan said with a bitter smile. “I remember you asking me in the suburbs if I’d be willing to die for my beliefs. If it were just me, it wouldn’t matter either way. But with you… what should I do?”

He gazed at her, earnest and helpless, asking softly, “What should I do, A Lian?”

Rarely did he show such vulnerability. Hearing his tone, Qu You felt her heart tremble and blurted out what she truly felt: “But I’ve never thought of divorcing you.”

Zhou Tan stiffened. “You…”

“Since the day I married you, I’ve never entertained such thoughts. Your cold words made me retaliate, but it was only because you weren’t honest with me. Even now, though you still won’t tell me everything, I must speak the truth. Coming here… everything I seek and think about is tied to you. Whatever you want to do, I’m willing to stand by you.”

The laws of Yin.

The compiler of The Flower-Stripping Decree .

That lonely and sorrowful reform.

Behind The Spring and Sandalwood Collection , the white-robed loyal minister from her dreams stood on the hillside of history, revealing the “truth” of humanity that moved her deeply.

Though she hadn’t realized it herself, the day she decided to study the criminal laws of Northern Yin, she was destined to be inseparably linked to the person before her. She prided herself on being fair and objective, yet influenced by the “flatterer” label in historical texts, she had refused to admit that Zhou Tan was the soul behind all her inquiries.

Even when she claimed interest only in anonymity, she memorized every word of The Spring and Sandalwood Collection without error.

Despite Zhou Tan giving her countless opportunities to leave, she steadfastly followed the trajectory of history, staying by his side. She lit a flickering lamp for him on those lonely, rainy nights in old temples, seeking to illuminate her own confusion.

Now, she finally dared to say it—she was the “great sage” Zhou Tan awaited for ten thousand generations. Perhaps her journey through time and space was meant to see his life shrouded in mist clearly.

Having crossed his perilous bridge, she no longer wished to face him with an ugly mask. She wanted to be honest—with herself and with him.

Zhou Tan lowered his head, eyes slightly red, his expression a mix of surprise and bewilderment, his voice trembling. “From now on, the path will be fraught with difficulties…”

Qu You rolled up her sleeves and firmly grasped his hand. His hand was cold as jade, but she smiled brightly.

“From now on, the path will be fraught with difficulties…”

“But we’ll walk it together, singing with our staffs.”

“I’m not afraid of death, only of not having lived fully… When you barely survived, crawling out of the imperial prison despite the slander, wasn’t it the same for you?”

Zhou Tan felt as though burned by the heat of her palm. Instinctively, he tried to pull away, but Qu You held tightly to him, as she always had. He avoided her gaze, saying, “I don’t know if I can succeed.”

Qu You smiled. “But I do.”

He fell silent for a long while. She held his hand, recalling his past coldness and suspicion, but also the moments of connection and awe. In the end, only the golden sunset on the hillside remained vivid in her mind—she believed she had seen the “truth.”

Closing her eyes, she recalled reading The Spring and Sandalwood Collection for the first time. A hundred years flow like water; wealth turns to cold ash. She had intended to write “grief” from The Twenty-Four Styles of Poetry at the end, but instead, she wrote “open-mindedness.”

“A hundred years of life—how short is the distance? Joy is fleeting, sorrow abundant.

Why not raise a cup, let days pass amidst misty vines? Flowers cover humble eaves; sparse rain passes by.

When the wine is drained, sing with a staff. Who doesn’t share this ancient path? The southern mountain stands tall.”

It was a strange feeling. Though she knew Zhou Tan’s life was short and unfulfilled, ending in poverty, his poetry didn’t feel resentful or burdened. Instead, she sensed transcendence between the lines.

Though Zhou Tan’s actions brought no happy ending, he never regretted them. Like now, knowing the path ahead was treacherous, he simply strove not to implicate others, showing no sign of retreat.

She had crossed time and space, alone, indifferent to life and death, seeking only answers. He, too, was here, dedicating his life to an uncertain ideal.

Qu You thought her annotation was indeed correct.

Since ancient times, who escapes death? Only the southern mountain remains eternally majestic.

Xianming Ward wasn’t far from Zhou Tan’s residence. By the time they finished talking, they had arrived at the alleyway. Dusk had fallen, and as the carriage stopped, Qu You heard urgent voices. Soon, a black-clad figure pulled aside the curtain.

His gaze swept over their clasped hands, and after taking a deep breath, he quickly said, “Madam, Miss Gao Yunyue of the regent’s family invites you to Fan Tower.”

Gao Yunyue seeking her now, so urgently—it was unclear why.

Qu You glanced at Zhou Tan, about to accept, when the black-clad man continued, “Miss Gao says if Lord Zhou is present, he may also come. She has obtained something related to the case in your husband’s hands.”

Qu You exchanged a surprised glance with Zhou Tan, seeing his astonishment. She then said, “We’ll depart immediately. Black, you drive.”

“Yes,” replied Black.

Though Gao Yunyue was an unmarried maiden, she often visited Fan Tower with Lady Gao and was a familiar guest. Upon entering, Qu You noticed the flipped sign read “Qing Chun Ze.”

Previously, Zhou Tan frequented a private room named “Fragrance Stay.” The eastern building hosted literati, and each private room bore names of poetic meters—an interesting touch.

But there was no time to dwell on it. From behind the screen, Gao Yunyue dismissed her attendants as soon as she heard them enter. Once the door closed behind Qu You, Gao Yunyue emerged from behind the screen.

Holding a fan, she awkwardly bowed to Zhou Tan. “Lord Zhou…”

Unmarried women shouldn’t meet unrelated men, but Gao Yunyue and Qu You were close friends, so this wasn’t improper.

“What did you obtain that made you summon me so urgently?” Qu You pulled her to sit, asking anxiously.

Gao Yunyue skipped pleasantries, pulling a boat-shaped box from behind her.

“My mother is devout in Buddhism, and every month I accompany her to Xi Qing Temple on Ting Mountain. Today, as we descended, a young beggar desperately blocked our carriage, insisting on seeing me.”

Zhou Tan took the box, slightly astonished. “This box is forged from fine iron. Without a key, it cannot be opened—it would resist even blades and fire.”

“Exactly,” Gao Yunyue confirmed. “Curious, I saw the child. She handed me this, saying it was entrusted by the young mistress of the Du household. Du Hui has only one son, Du Gaojun, so this must be from Lianxi. The beggar said she owed her life to Lianxi, who once saved her. That day, she saw Lianxi alight from the carriage, injured, and handed her this item, instructing her to wait on the mountain path for either you or me if anything happened to her.”

“The autumn banquet delayed my visit to Xi Qing Temple this month, and you’ve been busy, unable to go. Thus, I received this item only now. I suspected it relates to her death and thus summoned both you and Lord Zhou.”

Zhou Tan shook the box gently—no metallic sound. Likely documents or letters inside. Frowning, he suddenly asked, “Miss Gao, have you mentioned this to Chancellor Gao?”

Gao Yunyue shook her head. “I received it on the mountain path and didn’t return home. I promptly invited both of you here. I thought Lianxi entrusted this matter so solemnly to us, fearing others might tarnish her posthumous reputation. Even my mother inquired, but I told her the beggar once benefited from my kindness and begged due to illness. I’ve settled her—you may send someone later if you wish to meet her.”

“Miss Gao is cautious. I’ll send someone to bring her to my residence,” Zhou Tan said quietly.

Qu You touched the key hidden in her sleeve, glancing at Zhou Tan but refraining from taking it out.

Gao Yunyue peered outside before rising. “I told my mother I stepped out to buy snacks—it’s time to return. I couldn’t open this. Lord Zhou might have a way. How ironic that Lianxi foresaw this case falling into your husband’s hands. Should you need help, send someone to Gao Mansion anytime.”

Qu You saw her out. “Thank you.”

“No need for formalities,” Gao Yunyue playfully flicked her forehead, hurrying away. “After resolving this case, treat me to a drink with Chun Niang. We’ll hold a memorial for Lianxi.”

“If we can truly avenge her, it won’t be in vain for our friendship.”