CXD - 89

Jiang Zhiyi rose from the prayer mat, subtly scanning her surroundings through the veil of her hat. Supported by Jingzhe, she exited the hall and began walking outward.

They eventually stopped under the shade of a tree in a secluded area. Jiang Zhiyi turned to ask Jingzhe: “How did it go?”

Jingzhe leaned close to Jiang Zhiyi’s ear and whispered: “Your Grace can rest assured. I paid attention to the movements outside the hall just now. Two people came to eavesdrop—one appeared to be a disciple sweeping the floor, as there was the sound of a broom moving steadily alongside their footsteps, likely someone skilled. The other person hurried away after pausing briefly, their steps unsteady and panicked.”

Jiang Zhiyi’s eyes narrowed with realization: “One stayed put to listen further, while the other rushed off to report. It matches! This is exactly what I expected!”

“Your Grace is brilliant. With this, Master Zhang will surely believe your engagement with Young General Shen has fallen apart and will emerge from hiding again.”

Jiang Zhiyi nodded. Once the fish took the bait, she could unravel the mystery of the storybook and confirm whether the peace marriage rumor was fabricated or based on truth. After uncovering the facts, she would send word to Yuan Ce to claim credit for her efforts.

As for the method of investigation—

The heavens, the earth, and the Daoist deities knew. There was no need for Yuan Ce to know.

With light steps, Jiang Zhiyi made her way toward the exit of the temple. Just as she was about to descend the long stone staircase, she suddenly spotted a familiar figure in a green robe hurrying down the steps ahead, looking as if they were fleeing in disarray.

“Hmm?” Jiang Zhiyi paused at the temple gate and pointed into the distance. “Is that Pei Zisong?”

Jingzhe followed her gaze. The silhouette did indeed resemble him, but when had the usually composed son of the chancellor ever moved with such an awkward gait?

Just then, the man ahead tripped on the last step of the staircase, nearly falling flat on his face—

“He’s nothing like Young Master Pei,” Jingzhe shook her head. “It must just be a similar silhouette.”

By early August, the autumn weather was crisp and cool. As the Marquis of Yong’en’s condition improved, Jiang Zhiyi no longer needed to stay glued to his bedside. Knowing Yuan Ce was still en route back to Hexi with his troops, she took the opportunity to pay closer attention to the political developments at court—

The second prince had been captured and imprisoned during his defeat, along with his household, awaiting execution after the autumn harvest. Those implicated in the rebellion faced the same fate of having their entire families executed. It seemed that after the autumn equinox, the skies over Chang’an would be stained with blood for days.

Previously, the crown prince had only been punished with house arrest for his ineffective disaster relief efforts—a decision that reflected either the emperor’s leniency or a strategy to maintain balance. However, during the palace coup, the crown prince showed no ability to respond or retaliate. His sole plan was to escape through a secret passage with his father, mother, and crown princess.

As the heir apparent, how could he abandon the throne and focus solely on saving his family? While criticism of the crown prince had previously come only from the second prince’s faction, after this upheaval, officials across the court were united in calling for his removal. Petitions impeaching the crown prince flooded the imperial palace. The emperor, a military man by background, had lost all faith in the crown prince and would likely make a decision soon.

In contrast, the fourth prince had acted decisively over the past two months, providing disaster relief to the southern provinces and rescuing the emperor and key ministers from the rebels’ siege. He personally led the troops to capture the second prince and was now at the height of his popularity, emerging as the undisputed candidate for the position of crown prince.

That day, Jiang Zhiyi asked Baojia, who was visiting the marquis’s estate: “With the crown prince in such a predicament, the empress will inevitably be implicated. Will you be affected, Sister?”

Baojia dismissed the idea with a snort, casually skimming the foam from her teacup: “I have long severed ties with them. They won’t drag me into this.”

Since gaining independence and establishing her own residence, Baojia had scandalized society by keeping male companions and venturing into commerce. Emperor Xingwu and the empress had practically disowned her.

Still, they turned a blind eye to her actions, allowing her to do as she pleased.

Previously, Jiang Zhiyi had thought this was parental indulgence. However, after learning last New Year’s Eve that Li Dafeng’s family had been sentenced to exile, she began to suspect that Baojia might have once intended to marry Li Dafeng. But at that critical moment, the emperor had accused the Li family of deceiving the throne, shattering Baojia’s hopes of marriage. Perhaps this leniency was a small compensation for their daughter.

“You needn’t pity them too much,” Baojia said with a faint smile. “My mother and elder brother treated you well in the past because, as the rightful masters of the royal household, they had to be gracious hosts and cultivate goodwill. People like them don’t possess genuine feelings.” She continued: “Besides, my elder brother lacks the ability to be the crown prince. If he were to ascend the throne, he would lose both the empire and his life sooner or later. It’s better for him to be removed now. If the second prince had succeeded, he would have exterminated everyone. Now that it’s the fourth prince, at least their lives are spared—it’s the best possible outcome.”

Jiang Zhiyi nodded thoughtfully: “It seems inevitable that the fourth prince will be named the crown prince.”

“A nation cannot go without a crown prince for long. My father’s health is also deteriorating, so decisions must be made promptly.”

“What? His health is failing?” Jiang Zhiyi was startled.

“Oh, I’ve let that slip,” Baojia covered her mouth lightly. “But it’s not exactly a closely guarded secret. Everyone in the palace knows—he sustained injuries during the coup when he personally drew his sword to fight the rebels. In the heat of summer, his wounds worsened, and he suffered fevers. Now, he often wakes up in the middle of the night from nightmares, believing rebels are nearby, and has accidentally killed several eunuchs and maidservants.”

“…Such severe nightmares,” Jiang Zhiyi remarked in astonishment. “Then who is handling state affairs now?”

“He only experiences these episodes at night; during the day, he functions normally and continues managing governance. Still, this cannot continue indefinitely.” Baojia shook her head. “I’ve let this slip to you, so please don’t repeat it to anyone else.”

Jiang Zhiyi quickly nodded.

Even if she wanted to share this information, she would only tell Yuan Ce. But now that they were so far apart, sending a letter about such sensitive matters could be deadly if discovered.

“Perhaps I’m overthinking it. Maybe the cooler autumn weather will improve his condition,” Baojia added. “A group of officials from the southern provinces have been dismissed, but I see my father busy selecting replacements. There’s nothing particularly unusual about that… Oh, I heard Young Master Pei is also entering officialdom and leaving the capital for his post.”

Jiang Zhiyi was surprised: “Didn’t he say his mother was ill and that he wanted to stay in the capital to care for her, refusing to serve elsewhere?”

“I’m not sure about that,” Baojia replied. “I heard he left in quite a hurry, skipping even the Mid-Autumn Festival. He’s set to depart within the next couple of days.”

Leaving so urgently?

Jiang Zhiyi recalled something and turned to Jingzhe: “Jingzhe, could the person at the temple that day really have been Pei Zisong?”

Jingzhe also realized the implication and stammered: “Could… Could Young Master Pei have overheard your words, mistaken the person you spoke of as himself, feared that Young General Shen would storm into the capital, and hastily packed up to flee?”

“…”

The more Jiang Zhiyi thought about it, the more absurd the idea seemed. Surely it couldn’t be such a coincidence—but what if it were? The next morning, unable to sit still, she paid an early visit to the Pei family estate.

However, she was informed that Pei Zisong had already set off that very day and was currently on his way out of the city.

Given Pei Zisong’s meticulous etiquette, he would have surely bid farewell to all his friends and acquaintances in the capital before departing. Yet, despite their shared history of hardship, he hadn’t even informed her. It seemed Jingzhe’s suspicions were correct.

Jiang Zhiyi hastily inquired about which gate Pei Zisong had taken and immediately instructed her coachman to turn the carriage around and head toward the city gate in pursuit.

After much effort, they finally caught up with the Pei family’s carriage halfway. Jiang Zhiyi intended to have Jingzhe call out to stop the driver, but to her surprise, the Pei family’s carriage only sped up. The wheels spun so fast they seemed to spark!

Jiang Zhiyi gestured forward, commanding her coachman to intercept the carriage at all costs.

Putting all his skills to use, the coachman managed, after great difficulty, to overtake the Pei family’s carriage just before the city gate. With a sharp turn, he blocked their path.

The Pei family’s carriage came to an abrupt halt.

Jiang Zhiyi, who had been jostled about during the bumpy ride, felt dizzy. Rubbing her temples, she stepped down from her carriage with Jingzhe’s help and approached the other carriage: “Why are you running away, Young Master Pei?”

The person inside hesitated for a moment before stepping down. Bowing deeply, he replied: “I was unaware Your Grace was behind me. My apologies for my rudeness. What urgent matter brings you here?”

Jiang Zhiyi glanced at his reddened ears. This man, who blushed so easily, should probably give up lying altogether…

Awkwardly clearing her throat, Jiang Zhiyi beckoned him closer and led him to a secluded spot. Then she asked: “Tell me, were you at Taiqing Temple a few days ago?”

Pei Zisong lowered his eyes and shook his head: “No, I wasn’t.”

That settled it. Jiang Zhiyi sighed in frustration. Why hadn’t Master Zhang taken the bait yet, while Pei Zisong had fallen for it?

“I…” Jiang Zhiyi stammered, rubbing her forehead. “Everything I said that day was a lie to fool the Daoist deities!”

Pei Zisong’s eyes shot up in surprise.

Jiang Zhiyi continued her explanation: “I spoke in reverse to the deities. If they cherish this marriage, they’ll work harder to bind me and Young General Shen together. Do you understand?”

Pei Zisong stared at her blankly: “Is there really such a Daoist technique?”

“Of course! My wedding gown is almost finished—I have no intention of breaking off the engagement with Young General Shen.”

Pei Zisong’s ears turned bright red as he hesitated: “It seems I’ve misunderstood. I am deeply ashamed!”

“It’s not your fault—it was just bad timing,” Jiang Zhiyi waved dismissively. “So don’t do anything rash like leaving the capital. Your mother’s health isn’t good. If you leave, who will take care of her?”

After recovering from his embarrassment, Pei Zisong shook his head: “Your Grace has also misunderstood. While it’s true I didn’t bid you farewell because of this, my departure isn’t related to that either. That day when I went to the temple, it was to finalize my departure date for my new post.”

“You mean—”

Pei Zisong’s expression turned serious: “Back in the academy, I once told Your Grace that there are plenty of people willing to serve the nation and its people—I’m not indispensable. My mother, however, only has me as her son. Sacrificing my family for the sake of the state was never my wish… But after experiencing the drought firsthand and witnessing the battle of Xingyang, I was moved. I realized how flippant my earlier words were. Now, during this time when the court needs capable hands, my mother doesn’t want me to stay home for her sake. I’ve resolved to contribute my efforts for the sake of countless families across the land. My haste to leave is because my post is in Xingyang—a city in dire need of rebuilding after the war. I want to assist Governor Cao—formerly Magistrate Cao—as soon as possible in reconstructing Xingyang.”

As Pei Zisong spoke, his eyes gleamed with excitement, as if envisioning a vibrant and prosperous city.

“So that’s how it is…” Jiang Zhiyi exhaled deeply and smiled. “That’s wonderful! With you and Governor Cao, Xingyang will surely regain its vitality in no time.”

“You and Young General Shen can stop by whenever you pass through on your travels between Hexi and Chang’an. I’ll be happy to host you.”

“Definitely.” Jiang Zhiyi glanced at the sun overhead. “I’ve delayed your departure long enough. You should hurry along now!”

Pei Zisong looked at her solemnly and bowed deeply: “My decision today was inspired by the lessons I learned alongside Your Grace in Xingyang. Having had the honor of fighting beside you, I wish you happiness, peace, and a joyful life with Young General Shen.”

Jiang Zhiyi returned the bow: “And may Young Master Pei have a bright future and achieve all your aspirations.”

Pei Zisong bowed once more, then turned and climbed back into his carriage.

Jiang Zhiyi watched him leave, feeling as though she was witnessing the first step of a future pillar of the nation setting off on his official career in this autumn of the twelfth year of Xingwu.

Watching the carriage disappear into the distance with satisfaction, Jiang Zhiyi turned to Jingzhe: “Alright, let’s go back. Speaking of the wedding gown reminded me—I promised Brother Ce I’d keep an eye on its progress. Let’s go check on it now!”

With the arrival of autumn, the weather grew cooler day by day. The scorching summer that had brought disaster to Da Ye finally came to an end.

The Marquis of Yong’en’s cough had improved significantly, and he was now able to walk without being bedridden.

Feeling reassured, Jiang Zhiyi allowed Li Dafeng some free time. She told him he no longer needed to stay cooped up in the estate all day and could go out for a drink or two at “Feng Xulai.”

On the afternoon of the day before the Mid-Autumn Festival, Jiang Zhiyi was lounging in the Yaoguang Pavilion, basking in the sun and playing with Hu Hu, when Jingzhe entered with a delighted expression: “Your Grace, I’ve just received some good news—Master Zhang has truly returned from his travels!”

Jiang Zhiyi immediately put down the cat teaser in her hand and stood up: “Finally, we’ve caught him! Let’s go to Taiqing Temple and get to the bottom of the storybook mystery.”

Jingzhe lightly held her back: “Your Grace, calm down. Master Zhang might escape, but the temple won’t run away. First, take a look at another piece of good news.”

“Take a look?” Jiang Zhiyi blinked in confusion.

Jingzhe raised her hand and clapped twice softly.

An elderly matron entered, carrying a heavy garment box, her face beaming with joy: “Congratulations, Your Grace! Your wedding gown is complete!”

Jiang Zhiyi hurried forward happily, gazing at the rosewood garment box in the matron’s arms. Yet, like someone hesitant to return home after a long absence, she hesitated to open it. After a moment of silence, she slowly extended her hand and gently traced the carved double happiness character on the lid.

Suddenly, Yuan Ce’s voice from their parting night echoed in her ears—Stay safe in Chang’an and wait for me to come marry you.

“A wedding gown that took over half a year to make—go ahead and open it, Your Grace!” Jingzhe and the matron chuckled as they watched her.

Jiang Zhiyi nodded and reached for the latch. Just as she touched it, hurried footsteps rang out.

Looking up, she saw Baojia being led in by a maid, panting heavily.

“Why have you suddenly come, Sister?” Jiang Zhiyi’s attention was entirely on the wedding gown, and she didn’t notice Baojia’s unusual expression. Without waiting for an answer, she pointed to the box and laughed: “You’ve come at the perfect time! Come take a look at my wedding gown—I haven’t seen it yet either. Let’s take a look together!”

Baojia froze mid-step, her already pale face stiffening further.

“What’s wrong?” Jiang Zhiyi stared at Baojia’s unusually grave expression, one she had never seen before.

“Zhiyi, the fourth prince sent a message to the princess’s residence, asking me to tell you—”

“What happened at the palace?” Jiang Zhiyi’s smile vanished instantly.

“Western Luo has submitted a request to Da Ye for a marriage alliance—the person they seek to marry…” Baojia swallowed hard, “…is you.”