Prince Mingde asked me with a half-smile, "What kind of mission do you think I would have for you, bringing you here?"
His words left me bewildered. I was about to press him further when several attendants in green robes entered. They silently cleared the empty plates from the table and replaced them with tea service. This was genuine green tea; its aroma was slightly different from the scent lingering on his person.
I quickly set down my teacup. Whether it was because I was full or because I had instinctively let down my guard in this non-threatening environment, I found my mind beginning to wander again. Drowsiness was starting to set in. I sat up straighter, secretly reminding myself not to be careless—for all I knew, this place could be a "White Tiger Hall" where judgments were passed.
Mingde gazed at the fine, ivory-colored paper on the window lattice, looking deeply preoccupied. Since he didn't speak, I began to lose the battle against sleep again. Just as my eyelids were about to close, I suddenly heard him ask, "Is the token of the Ming Sect leader in your hands?"
I jolted, my sleepiness vanishing instantly.
Mingde extended a hand. "Let me see it."
I fished the purple jade pendant left by my master out of my robe and placed it in his hand. This token had been with me for some time, yet I had never scrutinized it closely. Under the bright candlelight, it was only about the size of a lychee; calling it a jade buckle might have been more appropriate. It was circular, carved with an unknown bird. The color of the jade transitioned from a deep purple at the base to a light crimson at the top, looking quite beautiful. It occurred to me then that I possessed quite a few valuable trinkets: this purple jade, the pendant the Prince had gifted me, and the gold key left by Ming Rui.
"What exactly is Mingxia to you?" Mingde suddenly looked up and asked. Though his tone was light, there was a faint tremor beneath it. His expression remained as calm as ever, but a dangerous flame flickered within his star-bright eyes.
"She... she is my Martial Aunt, I suppose," I stammered. Mingxia was my master’s senior sister, the wicked woman who had framed her. I remembered hearing from my master before leaving the grasslands that she was supposedly very ill. For the Prince to know of her—was the Ming Sect truly that famous?
A sharp light flashed in Mingde’s eyes, as if he wanted to pierce straight into my heart. As a martial artist, I had an extraordinary sensitivity to killing intent, and I was no exception now; the hair on my arms stood on end.
Then, he spoke each word with deliberate weight: "Xi Xia, I want you to prove your loyalty to the Imperial Court. I want you to bring me her head."
I stared at him blankly, as if struck by lightning. My brain was still short-circuiting, but my mouth responded out of pure instinct: "No."
Mingde’s eyes suddenly turned into two bottomless pools of dark water, deep and heavy, as if a tempestuous tide was being forcibly suppressed beneath the surface. His beautiful phoenix eyes, so like Ming Shao’s, stared at me without blinking, as if he were struggling to push his fury back into his heart.
I don't know how much time passed before that scorching intensity in his eyes gradually faded. He leaned back and uttered two words: "Your reason?"
After the initial shock and chaos, my mind slowly cleared. The underlying cause for his request wasn't something I should dwell on now. I struggled to organize my thoughts, trying to calm myself down.
"Give me a reason for your 'no'." Mingde was still watching me. His gaze was serene, but seeing him like this only made my skin crawl.
I took a deep breath, then another. I sat up straight and looked directly into those eyes that seemed so familiar yet were utterly foreign. "I am a constable, not an assassin. If Your Highness has concrete evidence of Mingxia’s guilt, I will take an arrest warrant issued by the Ministry of Justice and bring her to justice. She will be tried and sentenced by the officials of the Ministry according to formal procedure."
He continued to stare at me unblinkingly, and I met his gaze just as steadily.
The air felt thick with gas, needing only a single spark to explode.
Emotions shifted unpredictably in Mingde’s eyes, all of them things I didn't recognize. Suddenly, I felt an overwhelming exhaustion, as if I could no longer muster the energy for such a taxing confrontation.
I closed my eyes weakly. For the first time, my voice sounded flat and cold. "If Your Highness has no other instructions, I shall take my leave. No second person shall ever know of tonight’s events."
He didn't speak, but I could feel him still watching me. His sharp gaze fell on my face like a knife—it was harder to bear than a physical blade.
In that moment, my heart was filled with sorrow. In the eyes of the people of this era, what did the law even mean? If even he, the heir to the throne, felt this way, then what was the point of my persistence?
A deep sigh from Mingde reached my ears. Then, a small object landed in my lap with a soft *thud*. It was the purple jade pendant of the Ming Sect.
I looked up at him. He had closed his eyes as if exhausted, his body leaning back slightly. He said tonelessly, "Tell me about Fengyun Fortress."
I pulled my thoughts back and quickly organized the details of the case in my mind, giving him a concise summary. At the end, I mentioned the biggest hurdle: "If the rumors of Fengyun Fortress using live burials are true, Feng Tong will certainly not agree to an exhumation."
Mingde gave a soft "mm." His eyes remained closed, but the tension in his features had smoothed out considerably. "Tell me, what do you plan to do?"
I replied, "I ask Lord Luo to issue a formal arrest warrant to bring Feng Tong into custody. Everything else... will be easy to handle then."
Mingde shook his head and opened his eyes to gaze at me. "There must be evidence before arresting Feng Tong, and evidence requires exhumation. If we go head-to-head, Fengyun Fortress might not clash openly with the government, but they would likely retaliate in other ways. We are currently at war with the Great Chu; a large portion of our domestic trade, especially the supply of war materials, relies on Fengyun Fortress."
At this point, he seemed to speak to himself: "Feng Tong and Feng Jing did not have a good relationship. He wouldn't go so far as to fall out with the Court just to protect his predecessor's posthumous reputation..."
Mingde shook his head again, his gaze falling back on me. "Take my jade pendant to see Feng Tong. Tell him the Court will not pursue the matter of the live burial for now, but it must never happen again."
I nodded helplessly.
Mingde waved his hand slightly, as if trying to brush away some unpleasant phantom. "You may go. The Grand Tutor will see you out."
If he weren't the Prince, I would have pressed him for the reason he wanted Mingxia dead. But now, I could only swallow all my questions, bow respectfully, and withdraw.
The "Old Fox," Xu Liufeng, was waiting for me in the outer hall. Seeing me emerge, his expression relaxed slightly. He reached out and said, "Let us go, Master Xi. I shall see you back."
The carriage swayed along a road I didn't recognize. Outside, the night was heavy and dark; nothing could be seen clearly. I felt weary, my entire body aching, yet I wasn't the least bit sleepy.
The Old Fox sat opposite me, also silent. A doubt suddenly surfaced in my mind: was the task the Prince wanted me to do his idea? Judging by his reaction, this old fox had probably anticipated my refusal...
As if sensing my thoughts turning toward him, the Old Fox gave a dry chuckle. "Master Xi, do you know what kind of place Yimeng Pavilion is?"
I gave a cold snort. "Tell me. I'm listening."
The Old Fox said with a grin, "It is the Prince’s private study. Aside from the Emperor, only this old official and Master Xi have ever entered. It seems His Highness holds Master Xi in very high regard..."
Hearing the words "high regard" made my temper flare. I grabbed his white beard and said fiercely, "I thought you were a loyal official, but it turns out you're just a sycophant abetting a tyrant. Today’s idea was yours too, wasn't it? Perhaps I should do Heaven's will and kill you first, you old geezer..."
The Old Fox said tremulously, "You truly wrong me. Today, His Highness is fasting for his late mother, Empress Duanshu. When it comes to Empress Duanshu, the Prince naturally becomes a bit..."
I cut off his rambling and countered, "What Empress Duanshu? Are you changing the subject on purpose?"
The Old Fox carefully extracted his beard from my grip. "Empress Duanshu was the Prince’s birth mother. It is said her death was related to the Ming Sect, though this old official does not know the details."
My mind instantly turned into a jumble of confusion. I couldn't understand how an Empress’s death could be linked to a sect in the martial world. Was this why the Emperor looked at me with such killing intent, and why the Prince treated me with such a bizarre attitude?
I couldn't help but feel indignant: Who did I provoke? Why do I have to be the scapegoat? That Mingxia—just how many "good deeds" did she do?
***
It was another silent, beautiful winter night. The ink-blue sky was so clear it seemed devoid of any impurities. There was no moon, only a few cold stars flickering. The distant mountains showed a sharp black silhouette; the scenery that was blurred by mist during the day seemed much clearer at night.
I sighed softly. It seemed I had been doing a lot of nocturnal activities lately. Was my biological clock completely out of whack?
A dull thud sounded nearby. I pulled my gaze back from the distant peaks and let it fall on the tall white jade tombstone close by. In the firelight, the name carved on the stone was clearly visible: Feng Jing. This old Fortress Master—perhaps it was more appropriate to call him the "former Master"—was only forty when he died, in the prime of his life. Though the people of Fengyun Fortress were vague about the cause of death, one could guess it was nothing more than excessive indulgence in wine and women.
Though they weren't visible from here, the perimeter of the graveyard had long been cordoned off by the men of Fengyun Fortress. On one hand, they were suppressing the news; on the other, they seemed to be guarding against us playing any tricks.
At that thought, I couldn't help but let out a cold laugh.
The men for the exhumation had been hand-picked by Feng Tong himself. At this moment, the newly appointed Master sat in a grandmaster's chair, his face grim as he watched his subordinates slowly pry open the sealed tomb door. Torches flickered in the night wind, and the shifting light cast on his face made his expressionless features look like a carved statue.
After a grating, tooth-aching sound of friction, a voice shouted, "It's open!"
Feng Tong didn't move from his seat, but his eyes shifted toward us.
I looked at Luo Guang; he seemed to be thinking the same thing I was. He turned to the guard in charge of the opening. "There are traps in the tomb passage, right?"
The small leader nodded, as expressionless as his master. "I will lead. You carry the coffin and follow behind me."
Luo Guang and several brothers lifted the coffin containing the Sixteenth Concubine’s body and followed the leader inside. Zeng Ping and I walked at the very back, while Chen Zhan stayed outside.
Hearing Zeng Ping’s slightly hurried breathing, I also felt a bit nervous. To be honest, in all my years, this was the first time I had entered a grave. In the dancing light of the torches, I could see the tomb passage was very wide. The walls on both sides and the ceiling were covered in exquisite murals. The scenes depicted hunting or banqueting, and the protagonist of every painting was a spirited, red-faced man. He was likely the owner of this tomb, Feng Jing. I secretly surmised that a man who died of overindulgence wouldn't look this vigorous; it must have been the result of artistic license.
Several side chambers were filled with various burial goods, arranged in strange patterns according to different customs. On either side of the main burial chamber, two separate side chambers had been built. These were the places where the two concubines were laid. With a solemn face, the leader led us into the left side chamber.
The layout of the side chamber was designed exactly like a lady’s bedchamber. In the center sat a mahogany coffin.
The leader lit incense and began the sacrificial rituals before opening the coffin. Looking at that red wood, I suddenly felt unable to breathe. I gave Zeng Ping a few instructions, then turned and walked back out along the passage.
I greedily inhaled the chilly winter air, trying to flush the discomfort from my body with every breath. Chen Zhan supported me worriedly. I leaned against his arm and forced a smile, indicating I was fine.
Across from us, Feng Tong’s cold gaze swept over me and then quickly away. The cruel practice of using living people for burial had been strictly forbidden by decree two hundred years ago, with severe punishments across every dynasty. I hadn't expected him to escape it so easily.
Recalling his nonchalant air during our negotiations—as if he were already certain we couldn't touch him—made my heart burn with resentment the more I thought about it.
Feng Tong seemed to sense my thoughts. His gaze returned to me. Whether out of triumph or provocation, or perhaps both, a wicked, faint smile actually touched the corners of his lips.
I stared hard at his eerie face and swore a silent oath: *You're lucky this time. If I ever catch you slipping again, I won't let you go.*
***
On the day Li Qiao and his wife, Li Wu-shi, were buried, the weather was exceptionally fine. The sunlight was as brilliant as a spring day. In the thickets around the graveyard, unknown birds chirped and twittered.
I am no poet, yet I felt they must be Li Qiao and his wife. Like the Butterfly Lovers, the souls of those who loved each other had finally reunited after death.
I also finally understood Prince Mingde’s intention in not pursuing the live burial. The autopsy results had been completely unable to determine Li Wu-shi’s cause of death.
The twin sisters' mother, Wu-shi, was never found, but that no longer mattered. Because of her stupidity and cowardice, both of her young daughters had lost their lives. She would likely carry that heavy cross until the day she died.
What if she had chosen to report it to the authorities in the first place?
Standing on this high hillside, I asked myself blankly: If she had truly chosen to go to the officials, would the ending have been any different?
Would it?
***
