BXG - 75

The wind stirred the gauzy curtains, gently brushing against her hand. Qu You grabbed the bed canopy and pulled herself up. Suddenly playful, she bit Zhou Tan’s ear and teased, “I remember you once said you weren’t skilled and needed practice. Tell me, have you learned anything since then?”

Zhou Tan was close to her now; she could almost feel the warmth radiating from his skin. His voice was hoarse, sending shivers down her spine. “No lessons needed.”

Qu You looked skeptical.

And so, Zhou Tan demonstrated his innate talent with unmistakable clarity.

It was nearing dawn when Qu You felt a bit stifled. She pulled back the floating bed curtains, intending to open the window, only to find her legs weak and unsteady.

Zhou Tan reached out an arm from behind her and pulled her back into his embrace, earning him a glare tinged with mock anger.

He chuckled softly, wrapping himself in the crimson wedding robe and padding barefoot to the window.

The moon had yet to vanish, casting its clear light over a garden of apricot blossoms outside. Since moving here, she had witnessed two springs in Ruozhou—more time than she ever spent in Bian capital. Yet somehow, it felt as though time had slowed.

Zhou Tan sighed by the window, turning to look at her. “On this spring night, the apricot flowers are fragrant and pure—a rare beauty.”

Qu You stared at the figure framed by the window. His long hair was loose, and he wore the wedding robe like a man emerging from behind a screen for the first time. But now, bathed in moonlight, with the shadow of apricot blossoms reflected in his eyes, she thought there was no sight more beautiful in the world.

By chance, a desk stood near the window. After gazing at her pensively for a moment, Zhou Tan picked up a brush and wrote something on the desk.

When he finished, he carried the small writing table, along with the ink and brush, back to her. Qu You gathered her long hair and realized that the poem he’d impulsively written was one she already knew by heart.

One of his most famous works, “April Seventeenth Night under Apricot Blossoms.”

—Emerald bamboo holds steadfast, refusing to yield; A single path of spring light cannot be restrained.

She had once speculated that this poem was written in Ruozhou, perhaps dedicated to a close friend. But history recorded no such confidant for Zhou Tan, let alone someone possessing the lofty spirit described in the verse. She could never have guessed whom it truly depicted.

Zhou Tan dipped the brush in ink and smiled at her. “My lady, why don’t you add the next line?”

Taking the brush, she laughed softly.

So this poem was about him—it suited him perfectly.

Without hesitation, she wrote—

—Do not lament the lean bones of integrity, For such things are sharpest in autumn.

Zhou Tan stopped writing. He stared at her words, motionless for a long while before raising his head. Tears shimmered in his eyes, moved perhaps by her understanding.

This unfinished piece was set aside temporarily until early winter, when Zhou Tan happened upon it again and continued writing. She joined him, completing the final lines.

—Snow presses the branches, yet dust does not defile; Gentle winds stir waves as if enemies collide. —Melodies rise to halt clouds in their tracks; In moments of joy, simple tunes sing of lords.

Life in Ruozhou passed slowly and peacefully. Xu Zhi and Yan Fu trained the Lingxiao army in the northern desert, while Zhou Tan and Qu You each fulfilled their duties within the city. Qu You, having always been interested in solving cases, took up a position under Judge Zhou, handling old unresolved cases and public grievances.

She didn’t disguise herself as a man but instead wore the deep blue robes of an official, topped with a cap. Her slender frame accentuated by a jade belt, she appeared refined and otherworldly.

At first, some dismissed her due to her beauty, but Qu You’s extensive knowledge of criminal law soon silenced them. She offered insights that broke through stalemates in investigations. Over time, even the hardened constables shed their arrogance, and the townsfolk affectionately nicknamed her “Lady Justice.”

Drawing from her investigative experience, Qu You compared Da Yin’s penal code during her free time and drafted several amendments. Though rough and scattered, she planned to organize them later—but laziness kept delaying the task.

Her leisure days were busy too.

Sometimes she galloped with Zhou Tan across the desert or practiced archery and basic martial arts with Yan Fu whenever he returned. Other times, they simply sat atop the city walls, watching the sky change—from sunrise to sunset, from azure skies to starlit nights. Clouds drifted endlessly, and they never tired of the view, finding endless topics to discuss.

Occasionally, letters arrived from old acquaintances in Bian capital, filled with greetings from her family and friends.

Gao Yunyue often sent bolts of fabric and jewelry, marking them with a tiny painted moon. In return, Qu You sent her fine wine from the borderlands, playfully adding a painted cloud.

Thus, they reached the New Year’s Eve of Yongning Seventeen.

A new year approached, but Qu You felt a growing sense of dread and unease about Yongning Eighteen. This unease was hard to share with anyone.

Because she knew that this year, Zhou Tan would return to Bian capital.

The carefree, dreamlike days in Ruozhou were destined to end.

Shortly after the Flower Festival, Zhou Tan caught a cold. Though minor, his earlier neglect left him bedridden for a while.

That day, Qu You was reading documents in the prefecture office when the black-clad attendant entered personally to report, “Madam, someone has been detained at the city gates. Two individuals without travel permits attempted to force entry. They claim to see you and Master. I found it suspicious and went myself—it’s someone from Bian capital. Master is ill, so perhaps you should go.”

After hesitating for a long while, she finally rose.

Spring had just begun, yet it seemed about to end prematurely. Thunder rumbled faintly in the distance, and chilling winds heralded an impending storm.

Trouble always came unexpectedly, Qu You thought.

But nothing could have prepared her for what awaited. Following the attendant to where the pair was held, she froze upon seeing them.

The woman turned at the sound of her voice. A startling scar marred her cheek; her hair was disheveled, and her clothes tattered. Gone was any trace of her former self. But when she saw Qu You, her eyes lit up, and tears fell instantly. “Youyou—”

Instinctively, Qu You ran to her, calling out in disbelief.

“Yun… Yunyue…”

Life in Ruozhou had been so peaceful that Qu You hadn’t realized Gao Yunyue hadn’t written to her in over four months.

Qu You’s hands trembled as she reached out to touch the scar on Yunyue’s cheek but stopped short.

Yunyue had always cherished her beauty; a wound on her face must have pained her more than any injury to her body. After two years apart, how had the once-proud and self-assured young lady transformed into this broken figure?

Gao Yunyue’s tears splashed onto Qu You’s hand, scalding her with their heat. “I thought… I’d never see you again.”

“What happened?” Qu You was at a loss for words, repeating blankly, “What happened? How did you…”

As she spoke, it dawned on her belatedly—surely the Crown Prince had moved against Gao Ze.

After Fu Qingnian’s death, Gao Ze had become chancellor. Since Emperor De’s health was failing, no regent had been appointed, leaving Gao Ze seemingly unrivaled in court.

This wasn’t necessarily bad news for the Crown Prince, but without leverage over Gao Ze, even the slightest sign of dissatisfaction from him would surely trigger the Prince’s paranoia, making him fear betrayal.

She had never anticipated the Crown Prince would act so soon—or that he would target the Gao family first!

“Madam, this place is not safe for long. I’ll arrange lodgings at one of our inns for Miss Gao and Master Ren,” the black-clad attendant said behind her.

Only then did Qu You notice Ren Shiming, clad in a travel-worn cloak, standing behind Gao Yunyue. The once-madman who left Bian capital now appeared much steadier, his face roughened by days of hardship and stubble.

Seeing her glance, Ren Shiming clasped his hands respectfully. “Sister-in-law, are you and Brother well here in the west?”

“Yes,” Qu You replied, guiding Yunyue toward the exit. “Your brother has caught a chill recently and isn’t fit to receive guests. Whatever you need to say, I’ll relay it to him tomorrow.”

Ren Shiming’s face brightened with hope but then darkened as if recalling something unpleasant. “I wonder if Brother will want to see me…”

Qu You sighed and reassured him. “Your brother has always thought of you. Don’t worry—he won’t hold any grudges.”

During wartime, Qu You had helped several women set up businesses, including an inn. The staff were deeply grateful and addressed her privately as “Headmistress.” When they heard these were important friends of hers, they spared no effort, preparing rooms and clearing the entire floor for their use.

After settling them in, Qu You instructed the attendant to guard the floor before continuing her conversation. Watching her make arrangements, Gao Yunyue clutched her teacup and remarked with some relief, “Youyou, you’ve grown up.”

“Don’t talk nonsense,” Qu You said, her eyes red as she gripped Yunyue’s hand tightly. “What happened in Bian capital?”

Yunyue’s hand trembled, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. Ren Shiming pulled a clean silk handkerchief from his sleeve and handed it to her, clearing his throat bitterly. “Sister-in-law, you must already know—the Emperor has been unwell since two years ago.”

His gaze grew complex. “I entered the Ministry of Rites under Lord Gao’s patronage, but my rank was low, so I didn’t learn all the details… After falling ill, the Emperor refused to let the Crown Prince assume regency. At last year’s end, a case arose during the New Year’s banquet. The Emperor and the Crown Prince quarreled fiercely, causing the Emperor to cough blood and lose the ability to govern. Using this as justification, the Crown Prince pinned the blame on the Fifth Prince. After the Lantern Festival…” He paused, swallowing hard. “…he poisoned him.”

“The Crown Prince poisoned his own brother?” Qu You gasped, though thinking of Song Shiyu, it didn’t seem surprising. “The Emperor favored the Fifth Prince, so the Crown Prince likely acted preemptively. With the Emperor bedridden, there wouldn’t be much room for reproach.”

“Yes,” Gao Yunyue interjected, her voice hoarse. “After poisoning the Fifth Prince, the Crown Prince forced the Sixth Prince to witness the execution, driving him mad with fear. In his panic to flee the palace, the Sixth Prince fell into the Golden Water River. Though rescued, the physicians say he’ll never walk again…”

“When Father learned of this, he was horrified and openly condemned the Crown Prince’s cruelty and filial impiety. Their relationship soured, and the Crown Prince avoided our home throughout the first month.”

If that were all, Song Shiyu wouldn’t have gone so far as to destroy the Gao family entirely.

Sure enough, Gao Yunyue continued bitterly, “But in mid-February, Father received a secret letter. He refused to tell me its contents, sitting silently for hours before requesting an urgent audience with the Emperor. Only later did I learn that night, Father pleaded earnestly through the curtain—but the Emperor never woke. Behind the screen sat none other than the Crown Prince!”

“Later, the Crown Prince knelt before Father, weeping bitterly. I couldn’t hear everything from behind the screen, but Father softened momentarily, unsure what to do. Seizing this opening, before March arrived, the Crown Prince suddenly posted notices across Bian capital claiming the imperial seal was missing, causing chaos. In the end, he claimed to find it in our home, accusing us of treason…”

Gao Yunyue closed her eyes, trembling. “He slaughtered the entire Gao household.”

Qu You shivered.

It wasn’t hard to imagine—Gao Ze must have uncovered evidence of Song Shiyu’s wrongdoing, something even his teacher couldn’t tolerate, prompting him to report it immediately to Emperor De.

But with the Emperor delirious from illness, the Crown Prince had already arranged the palace to his advantage. Sitting behind the screen, he listened coldly to Gao Ze’s words, his fury igniting murderous intent.

Afterward, he feigned remorse, lulling Gao Ze into lowering his guard. Then, swiftly fabricating the imperial seal scandal, he struck decisively.

Accused of treason, Gao Ze was overwhelmed and defenseless.

Moreover, given their ties, the Crown Prince might even gain a reputation for loyalty by destroying his own mentor. Emperor De, already ill, likely wouldn’t bother intervening further.

What a venomous snake… What secrets could possibly drive him to eliminate a devoted teacher who had stood by him for decades?

This part of history wasn’t detailed in the records Qu You had read, and she never imagined the Crown Prince would strike at Gao Ze first.

Qu You patted Gao Yunyue’s back, wanting to comfort her but finding words inadequate. She simply stroked Yunyue’s hand repeatedly.

To her surprise, Yunyue wiped away her tears and forced a smile. “When our family fell, Mother and Father fought desperately to let me escape. With nowhere else to go, I nearly drowned until Sister Chun saved me, hiding me in the Spring Rain Pavilion.”

“But… the Crown Prince knew I was close to Sister Chun. Unable to find me, he grew suspicious. Sister Chun’s prominence in Bian capital made direct action risky, so he fabricated a case against Sir Shisan.”

“What?” Qu You asked, bewildered.

Moments later, memory clicked into place—Bai Shating and Qu Xiangwen had indeed passed the spring examinations that same year. Shortly after, they were implicated in the infamous Chūnmíng Poetry Case, imprisoned, and exiled. Six months later, upon Ming Emperor Song Shixuan’s ascension, Bai Shating was recalled.

Now, the timeline aligned perfectly.

The Chūnmíng Poetry Case… The Crown Prince fabricated charges, alleging Bai Shating’s poetry for courtesans contained veiled criticisms of the court.

Persecution through literary offenses—a favorite tool of those in power.

“Sister Chun entrusted me to Master Ren, who happened to visit her at the pavilion. Father had once told me that if I wanted answers, I should ask Little Zhou. Without delay, Master Ren smuggled me out of Bian capital, fleeing westward. My face was already injured, so to avoid recognition, I worsened the wound myself, letting it fester grotesquely. It repelled anyone who saw it, preventing closer inspection.”