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After nightfall, Pei Xi could no longer contain himself. He picked up a lantern and made his way to the front corridor. Outside Ye Tingyan’s door stood two men quietly chatting.
Pei Xi raised the lantern to see who they were. They turned out to be two of Ye Tingyan’s closest confidants. One was a wandering physician from the southern borders, a descendant of the renowned healer Jue Mingzi—though curiously, he did not bear the surname Li but instead went by Bai Sensen.
The other was Zhou Jiayi, a reclusive scholar from Jiangnan whom the late Crown Prince Chengming had visited annually. His courtesy name was Chuyin.
Pei Xi greeted them with a respectful gesture. “Physician Bai, Master Zhou.”
Bai Sensen waved dismissively, smiling amiably. “Young Pei, there’s no need for formalities.”
Pei Xi asked, “Since returning from Muchun Field, Lord Ye has locked himself in his room. Is he feeling better?”
Bai Sensen replied, “Not particularly. From what I’ve observed, it seems he’s nearing…”
Zhou Chuyin shot him a sharp glance, cutting off the rest of his sentence. Bai Sensen hastily swallowed his words and amended, “Ah, life is fleeting, and yet he torments himself so. No amount of persuasion will change that.”
Zhou Chuyin sighed deeply. “Go on in and see him.”
With that, the two hung the lantern Pei Xi had brought near the door and departed together. Pushing open the door, Pei Xi stepped inside and was immediately struck by the strong smell of ink.
Ye Tingyan’s eyesight had been deteriorating, so he rarely lit lamps. The room was dimly illuminated, save for a solitary red candle burning in one corner.
The wooden window was wide open, creaking loudly as the night breeze blew through. The flickering candlelight wavered precariously, as if it might be extinguished at any moment.
Ye Tingyan had always loved poetry, painting, and calligraphy. A five-panel folding screen before the window was already filled with inscriptions, and the walls were adorned with various scrolls of calligraphy and paintings.
White gauze fluttered alongside rice paper, filling the room with a cool breeze.
When at home, Ye Tingyan preferred to leave his hair unbound and often wore loose robes of light pink or thin silk—a style that frequently drew playful teasing from Bai Sensen, who would jest about his “Wei-Jin elegance.”
To Pei Xi’s surprise, Ye Tingyan showed no trace of sorrow on his face. Instead, he sat with his sleeves tucked, intently writing.
Hearing someone approach, Ye Tingyan smiled without looking up. “Cuozhi, come take a look. This piece of calligraphy—I can’t seem to get it right.”
Pei Xi silently leaned closer and saw that Ye Tingyan was transcribing a verse from Zhang Yan’s Wood Orchid Slow: For the Quiet Spring.
“Behold the silent white crane, the shadowy clouds at rest,
Beyond worldly concerns lie hidden paths.
Farther than Peach Blossom Spring, far from dust—
Tell me, why did you recognize the fisherman back then?
Better to shut the gates by day,
And gaze upon the pond teeming with life.”[1]
Everything else was fine, except for the first line, which had been repeatedly scribbled out and rewritten. Each attempt seemed unsatisfactory, prompting him to start over again.
Pei Xi understood. This obsession stemmed from the Empress Dowager’s casual remark—”when the dark clouds rest.”
But it was just an offhand comment.
Seeing Cuozhi remain silent, Ye Tingyan glanced up, the corners of his reddened eyes crinkling slightly with amusement. “Perfect timing. Let me test you. What do you make of this verse?”
Pei Xi, weighed down by unease, deliberately avoided addressing the first two lines and instead spoke earnestly. “Confucius said, ‘If employed, act; if set aside, withdraw.’[2] Su Zizhan added, ‘Employment depends on the times; action and withdrawal depend on oneself.’[3] The ancients often spoke of engaging with the world as serving the greater good and withdrawing as embracing seclusion and transcendence. But Zhang Yan disagreed, arguing that both engagement and withdrawal exist within the mundane world. Only by placing them beyond material concerns can one achieve true freedom.”
“Well explained,” Ye Tingyan chuckled. “At the moment when the white crane falls silent and the dark clouds rest, all should be tranquil and free. If I cannot grasp this essence, how can I write these characters well?”
He tossed the brush aside and crumpled the paper he’d been writing on, discarding it carelessly.
In the depths of spring night, a sudden clap of thunder startled Pei Xi. He rushed to close the flower-latticed window but was too late—the red candle in the corner had already been extinguished, plunging the room into darkness.
Stepping outside, Pei Xi retrieved the lantern he’d brought earlier and carried it back in. Its glow illuminated a potted plum tree placed near the entrance, its branches twisted and sickly.
Pei Xi paused before the ailing plum tree and said, “Since your return to the capital, Lu Fengying has perished, and Lin Kuishan has entered the fray. Everything is proceeding smoothly. One day, we’ll prune away all the rogue branches on this sick plum tree and restore everything to how it once was. I know you harbor hatred, and hatred demands ruthlessness. Why torture yourself like this?”
He hung the lantern on the plum tree and took deliberate steps closer, gritting his teeth. “If you wish, I’ll kill the Empress Dowager for you.”
Ye Tingyan chuckled, unable to suppress a cough. “Assassinate the Empress? What an imaginative thought, Cuozhi.”
Pei Xi snapped angrily, “I’ve asked you countless times, and you refuse to tell me. Neither does Master Zhou nor Physician Bai. Granted, you rely on the Empress Dowager’s protection to maneuver in court now, but given the mutual benefits, she—clever as she is—wouldn’t destroy the alliance before Yu Qiushi falls from power. So why persist in this… entanglement? When I left Youzhou to take the imperial examinations in Bianjing, you personally told me that upon your return to the capital, you would surely kill the Empress Dowager.”
Ye Tingyan absently tightened his grip on the crumpled paper, then murmured after a pause, “Cuozhi, do you know…”
He slowly raised his head, his bottomless pupils catching the lantern light. “Before I returned to the capital, I assumed the bond between the Empress Dowager and Song Lan was seamless, indivisible. Yet this entanglement—it wasn’t something I could resist.”
Pei Xi hesitated, finally understanding. “You mean… the Empress Dowager deliberately seduced you to win your allegiance? Did she… did she see through something?”
Ye Tingyan shook his head. “I bear no resemblance to my former self. How could she uncover anything? It’s just that… what I believed to be their flawless bond—like the one I once shared with her—was merely an intricately woven tapestry. To the touch and eye, it appeared soft and beautiful, without flaw.”
“But it was all an illusion. In the sunlight, the tapestry revealed itself to be riddled with holes—power, ambition, desire. These destroyed old alliances, and they will destroy new ones too. Now, I can no longer discern what she truly wants. Perhaps… I never truly knew her.”
Pei Xi asked, “So, you’re using each other, hoping that one day you’ll uncover her true intentions?”
Ye Tingyan didn’t answer directly. Instead, he said, “Being betrayed by someone you trust wholeheartedly is devastating. Song Lan once used such a tactic to crush my spirit. Now, it’s my turn to let him taste that same bitter pill.”
Pei Xi muttered under his breath, “You have feelings; they are heartless. Who knows if such tactics will work on beasts.”
Before leaving, he earnestly added, “Now that the Empress Dowager doesn’t know your identity, she acts recklessly. She may treat others in court similarly. Stay vigilant and don’t let her consume you.”
Ye Tingyan smiled faintly and closed the door behind Pei Xi.
With the windows and doors shut, he heard the patter of rain. Suddenly, he recalled that before Pei Xi arrived, Zhou Chuyin and Bai Sensen had entered and spoken similar words.
Unlike Pei Xi’s blunt manner, those two had sighed and lamented after hearing him out. One muttered, “Foolish child,” while the other echoed, “Speaking one way, acting another.” In unison, they concluded, “It’s miraculous he hasn’t botched things already” and “Medicine can’t cure this.”
Ye Tingyan let out a bitter laugh and slowly unfolded the crumpled paper. By now, he could no longer distinguish truth from falsehood in his own words.
Yet after conversing with everyone, he found a convenient excuse for the desires festering in his heart.
•
The next day, Ye Tingyan entered the palace and was first summoned to Qianfang Hall by Song Lan.
Before entering, he encountered Chang Zhao, who greeted him respectfully.
Chang Zhao’s appearance yesterday had been abrupt. After leaving the palace, Ye Tingyan immediately ordered an investigation into his background. He learned that Chang Zhao, ambitious for advancement, had aligned himself with Lin Kuishan and Yu Qiushi.
Logically, Chang Zhao should have been a pawn pushed forward by Yu Qiushi to counter him. Yet every time they met, Ye Tingyan felt an inexplicable unease.
His current rank was higher than Chang Zhao’s, so the latter greeted him with a respectful bow. “Lord Ye.”
Ye Tingyan acknowledged him briefly, intending to say nothing more. However, Chang Zhao unexpectedly asked, “Is Lord Ye a member of the Ye clan?”
The question was peculiar. Ye Tingyan froze, mentally noting to investigate Chang Zhao’s connection to the Ye family, while outwardly replying, “Why does Scholar Chang ask such a thing?”
Chang Zhao answered casually, “Merely admiration. Another day, I’ll visit Lord Ye for a cup of tea. I hope you won’t find me burdensome.”
Ye Tingyan replied, “Of course. Since we’re both handling the assassination case at Muchun Field, there’s no shortage of opportunities to meet.”
Chang Zhao smiled. “Precisely.”
Song Lan’s summons followed suit. His instructions mirrored those given to Chang Zhao: report findings privately to him before making any public announcements.
After all, the royal spring hunt had been attended by all officials, with the Golden Sky Guards and Zhuque Division providing protection. Yet such an incident occurred under their very noses. If the assassin’s motives proved unreasonable, it would severely tarnish the royal reputation.
After receiving his orders, Ye Tingyan proceeded to his duties at Qiong Pavilion. At the appointed time, he changed into appropriate attire and headed to Gaoyang Terrace for the rendezvous.
This time, Luo Wei arrived earlier than him. Due to the dampness outside, she hadn’t sat on the stone bench where Ye Tingyan used to sit but instead entered the dimly lit hall.
Luo Wei valued cleanliness. After their first meeting, she had ordered this place repaired. Though the exterior remained dilapidated, the interior was now spotless.
Ye Tingyan strolled in leisurely and noticed that even the canopy bed in the inner chamber had been replaced with a deep blue one.
Luo Wei seemed lost in thought, only snapping out of it when he approached. She turned to face him.
Today, she wore her usual indigo-blue attire, a red ribbon tied around her head, with no additional jewelry.
Her makeup was understated, almost imperceptible, lending her face an air of youthful innocence fitting her age.
Luo Wei set down her folding fan absentmindedly. Unexpectedly, Ye Tingyan knelt before her, taking her hand firmly in his without uttering a word.
She tried to pull her hand back, but he held it tightly, refusing to let go. Frowning, she called out, “Lord Ye…”
“Your Highness has injured her hand,” Ye Tingyan murmured, gently stroking the small, nearly healed wound on the back of her hand. “A scar wouldn’t do. I’ve brought some excellent scar-removal ointment. May I apply it for you?”
Startled, Luo Wei abandoned her attempt to reclaim her hand, allowing him to carefully apply the ointment.
The cool cream spread across her hand, creating a tingling sensation. Ignoring the strange feeling, she asked, “Lord Ye, you have quite the audacity. The farce at Muchun Field—how did you orchestrate it, and how do you plan to conclude it?”
Ye Tingyan chuckled softly, speaking slowly. “Does Your Highness wish to know?”
Luo Wei’s gaze swept over his reddened eyes and dark pupils. His demeanor was gentle, yet his actions sent a chilling shiver down her spine.
Then she heard him say, “… Show some sincerity, shall we?”
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