Fan Changyu unfolded the letter, and after reading its contents, her brows involuntarily furrowed.
The princess had helped investigate matters concerning the Sixteenth Prince, but the prince had died many years ago. Jia Guifei had also passed away shortly after the prince's death, following the Late Emperor in departing this world. The original palace quarters had long been occupied by Qi Sheng's favored consorts, and the palace servants had been replaced batch after batch. Finding someone who knew the truth from back then was exceedingly difficult.
After days of covert investigation, the princess finally discovered an elderly palace maid serving in the Cold Palace who had once attended Jia Guifei. However, the maid had gone mad seventeen years ago and was banished to the Cold Palace to fend for herself.
The princess's people, by delivering food and clothing, made contact with the deranged maid over several days. They subtly sensed that the maid was feigning madness, but she remained highly vigilant and refused to lower her guard.
Seizing an opportune moment, the princess's people inquired about the Sixteenth Prince. The maid became visibly agitated and, under the guise of her madness, blurted out: "Dead, all dead... I'll die too... Wei Yan had illicit relations with a consort... everyone who knew had to die..."
Before they could ask more, the Cold Palace's supervising matron entered the courtyard.
Everyone in the palace was shrewd. The princess's people suddenly visiting the Cold Palace frequently and bringing gifts to a mad maid would naturally arouse suspicion.
They bribed the supervising matron generously, claiming they had merely passed by the Cold Palace by chance and, moved by pity upon seeing the mad maid eating spoiled food, had decided to offer some aid.
Though the matron did not press further, to avoid risks, the princess's people dared not return to the Cold Palace for more information anytime soon.
Fan Changyu turned to Xie Zheng and said, "Our best course now is to first determine which consort Wei Yan had an affair with..."
Xie Zheng understood her suspicion. After the deaths of the Chengde Crown Prince and the Sixteenth Prince, Wei Yan had supported the powerless Nineteenth Prince to ascend the throne—making the prince's birth mother the most likely suspect.
He replied, "It couldn't have been the young emperor's mother. She was merely a palace maid, favored by the Late Emperor in a drunken moment. She died in childbirth after bearing him."
The main reason Wei Yan supported Qi Sheng's succession was likely his youth and lack of maternal relatives, making him easy to control.
That left only the mad maid in the Cold Palace as their sole lead.
His eyes were cold as frost. "I'll infiltrate the Cold Palace myself."
Fan Changyu recalled the towering city walls she had seen outside the palace gates during her investiture ceremony. "The palace is heavily guarded. Entering without an edict on ordinary days would be difficult. General Tang mentioned there will soon be a victory banquet in the palace. Perhaps we should wait until then to investigate the Cold Palace, to avoid alerting anyone."
Xie Zhong, concerned for Xie Zheng's safety, nodded in agreement. "The General of the Cloud Banner's considerations are thorough. The Marquis should make preparations first and wait until the banquet to act."
Xie Zheng pondered for a moment before nodding slowly. Without another word, he strode into the courtyard.
Fan Changyu watched his solitary, aloof figure, a trace of worry flickering in her eyes.
She had initially doubted whether Wei Yan had orchestrated the Jinzhou Massacre, but with the added accusation of his affair with a consort, it seemed all but confirmed.
She had once believed Wei Yan was simply Xie Zheng's enemy, but tonight's visit to the Xie family mausoleum made her realize Xie Zheng's feelings toward Wei Yan were far more complicated.Every step deeper into the truth of the past felt like pushing the knife pressed against his heart another inch forward—
Despite rushing around until late at night, Fan Changyu and the others hadn’t even had dinner yet.
Xie Zhong ordered the kitchen to prepare a meal. Zhu Youchang, plagued by old ailments, had already gone to sleep, leaving only Fan Changyu and Xie Zheng to eat. However, Xie Zheng had not emerged from his room since returning, only instructing his subordinates to ensure Fan Changyu was properly settled.
Xie Zhong had a portion of the meal sent to Xie Zheng’s room, but it was returned untouched.
Understanding Xie Zheng’s temperament, Xie Zhong sighed helplessly and dismissed the Blood-Clad Cavalry who had delivered the food. Turning to Fan Changyu, he said, “General, please go ahead and eat. Let the master have some time alone.”
Fan Changyu recalled the lonely figure of Xie Zheng standing before the graves of General Xie and his wife when she had hurried to the cemetery earlier. She said, “I’ll take it to him.”
A flicker of surprise crossed Xie Zhong’s eyes, but thinking of the many exceptions Xie Zheng had made for her, a relieved smile appeared on his face. “Then I’ll trouble you, General.”
Under Xie Zhong’s knowing gaze, Fan Changyu picked up the tray of food and quickly asked where Xie Zheng’s room was to mask her embarrassment—
The moon was bright, the stars sparse, and the lanterns beneath the eaves cast bamboo shadows across the door and stone steps.
Fan Changyu looked at the warmly lit room, holding the carved wooden tray in one hand while raising the other to knock on the door.
From inside, Xie Zheng’s cold, impatient voice came from a distance: “I said no food. Leave.”
Fan Changyu replied, “It’s me.”
The room fell silent for a long moment before his low, slightly hoarse voice sounded again: “The door isn’t latched.”
Pushing the door open, Fan Changyu didn’t see anyone in the outer room at first glance. Only the faint sound of water came from the Clean Room. She had intended to offer Xie Zheng a few words of comfort, but now she suddenly felt awkward. Turning her back to the Clean Room, she said, “I’ll leave the food on the table. Remember to eat after you finish washing.”
No further words came from the Clean Room, nor even the sound of water.
Puzzled and worried that something might have happened to Xie Zheng, Fan Changyu called out again, “Xie Zheng?”
Still no response.
Fan Changyu turned her head toward the Clean Room and said sternly, “If you don’t answer, I’ll call someone in to check on you.”
Finally, a deep, slightly rough voice came from inside: “Pass me the clean clothes by the bed.”
A faint pink tinged Fan Changyu’s ears. She turned away and said, “I’ll ask Zhong-shu to bring them to you.”
A loud splash came from the Clean Room, followed by Xie Zheng’s voice: “Never mind. I’ll get them myself.”
Then came a dull thud and the sound of something ceramic shattering. Even through the curtain, Fan Changyu caught the scent of alcohol.
Why was there alcohol in the Clean Room?
Worried that Xie Zheng might be drunk and had slipped while getting out of the bath, and fearing he might cut himself on the broken shards, Fan Changyu set aside her hesitation and hurriedly lifted the curtain to enter. “Are you alright?”
The sight that greeted her made her feel as though her hands and feet had nowhere to place themselves.
The cold weather had filled the entire Clean Room with a hazy mist. Xie Zheng leaned against the edge of the bathtub, his handsome face dark and slightly flushed from drink. A red mark from a knock marred his shoulder—clearly from hitting the tub’s edge when he fell earlier—and his finely arched brows were slightly furrowed in irritation.Outside the bathtub lay a shattered wine jar. Judging by the amount spilled, most of it must have been consumed by Xie Zheng, with another empty jar lying overturned nearby.
He had actually drunk two whole jars of wine, and from the strong aroma, it was likely strong liquor—no wonder he seemed somewhat drunk.
Seeing that he wasn’t injured, Fan Changyu’s heart settled slightly, but his current state… was far too alluring.
Half of his tied-up long hair was soaked, clinging to the pronounced curves of his muscular shoulders and back—a striking blend of beauty and strength, easily reminiscent of a fierce beast in the wild, dangerous yet agile.
His long lashes, like delicate fans, were dotted with tiny droplets of water. Near his shoulder, close to his neck, was a bite mark she had left before leaving, suddenly giving the illusion that this unruly, beautiful beast could be tamed.
Even though she knew it was inappropriate, Fan Changyu felt heat rushing to her face. She quickly turned away, stammering, "I... I’ll go call Zhongshu..."
She had barely taken a step when a low, hoarse voice sounded behind her: "No need."
Xie Zheng pressed his fingers to his throbbing temples, his expression growing even more impatient. Blessed with such striking features, even his anger was captivating. "I can manage," he said.
The water rippled as he braced himself against the edge of the tub, forcing himself to stand, though his balance was clearly unsteady—he nearly fell again. Fortunately, Fan Changyu heard the commotion and caught him in time.
Feeling the full weight of his body pressing against her, Fan Changyu gritted her teeth in frustration. "I’ve never seen anyone as stubborn as you!"
Since he was unclothed, she kept her gaze averted, not daring to look anywhere inappropriate.
A droplet of water from Xie Zheng’s damp bangs fell onto her neck, the cool sensation making her instinctively shrink back.
Remembering his clothes were still outside, she fumbled to press a hand against his shoulder, trying to guide him back into the tub. "Wait here. I’ll get you clean clothes."
The half-drunk man lowered his head slightly, his gaze fixed on her lips as they moved, uncertain if he had even heard her words. Just as she turned to leave again, he pulled her into his embrace.
The water from his body seeped through her clothes, making her heart leap into her throat. Yet he simply buried his face in the crook of her shoulder, remaining silent for a long moment before murmuring hoarsely, "A Yu, you’re all I have left."
This was the first time anyone had called her by such an intimate name, leaving her momentarily at a loss for how to respond.
Being so close, with his scorching body heat, she felt a strange warmth and tingling spread from her neck to half her ear, as if she were floating on clouds, light and unsteady.
Fan Changyu stood frozen for a long while before finally patting his back reassuringly. "I’ll always be here."
The skin beneath her palm was uneven, the subtle ridges of scars unmistakable to her touch.
Remembering what Xie Zhong had said about the 108 lashes he had once endured, her eyes softened. In a coaxing tone, she added, "Sit down. Let me wipe your back for you."This was something Fan Changyu would never bring up under normal circumstances. Xie Zheng seemed about to obediently sit down as told, but the alcohol had dulled his thinking. The faint redness at the corners of his eyes lent his usually cool demeanor an almost bewitching allure. Yet some remnant of sobriety must have stirred a memory, for he caught Changyu's hand and pressed a kiss to it, murmuring, "Next time."
He swayed slightly as the alcohol throbbed in his temples, attempting to rise by bracing against the tub's edge. But Changyu firmly pressed down on his shoulder—she had already moved behind him and seen his back, where even healed scars formed a crisscrossed lattice of wounds.
Changyu froze.
Only when she saw those twisted, overlapping whip marks did she understand what Xie Zhong had meant by "not an inch of unbroken flesh."
She'd tended to the wounds on his back before, when he'd been as pitiful as a stray dog on the streets. But those injuries had been nothing compared to the horrifying density of scars before her now. She could scarcely imagine how he must have looked when these wounds were fresh and bleeding.
Her heart ached violently.
The diagonal slash spanning his entire back—the one he'd made to draw blood for the sacrificial blade—had split open countless times. Its scar was especially thick and gruesome.
When Changyu's fingertips traced it, they trembled involuntarily.
Her throat tightened. "How long," she asked hoarsely, "did you plan to hide these wounds from me?"
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