The Golden Hairpin

Huang Zixiang felt extremely stifled.

On the way back from the mortuary, watching Zhou Ziqin's face—twisted with barely suppressed delight—she felt like she might suffocate from sheer frustration.

A thought crossed her mind: to kick Zhou Ziqin off his horse and watch his smug face hit the ground hard enough to swell.

After seeing off Gongsun Yuan and standing alone with Zhou Ziqin in the yamen, Huang Zixiang finally couldn't resist shooting him a glare. "What did you take?"

Zhou Ziqin looked at her with a mix of admiration and self-satisfaction. "Chonggu, you're truly clairvoyant! How did you know I took something?"

"Idiot, it's written all over your face," she said, holding out her hand.

Zhou Ziqin hastily pulled a lock of hair from his sleeve and placed it in her palm, grinning obsequiously. "Ah, I just felt something was off. Though it looked like arsenic poisoning, didn’t you think the blackened fingers were strange?"

Relieved at the sight of the hair, Huang Zixiang tossed it back to him. "I thought you'd secretly cut off a piece of flesh or something."

Zhou Ziqin gasped in shock. "Chonggu, how could you think me capable of such cruelty? A pure and kind soul like me would never do such a thing! Besides, the flesh was frozen solid—it would’ve been too hard to cut!"

If it had been easy, would you have actually mutilated Fu Xinruan’s corpse? Huang Zixiang could only sigh and change the subject. "Can you test anything from the hair?"

"Maybe... depends on luck," he said, tucking the lock back into his sleeve.

Huang Zixiang remembered something else. "Earlier, you mentioned finding Na Fusha?"

"Yes! Its leg injury isn’t serious, but it was trapped in thorns for days and nearly starved." Zhou Ziqin quickly led her to the stables to see Na Fusha.

Despite her disguise, the horse recognized her instantly, eagerly nuzzling against her with affectionate familiarity.

Huang Zixiang hugged its head, overjoyed. But seeing how emaciated it had become, she sighed and hurried to fetch some beans to mix into its feed.

Zhou Ziqin’s "Xiao Xia" sneaked over to steal a few bites, only to have its nose pushed away by its owner. "Lucky Na Fusha is gentle. If it were Di E, you’d be flying from a kick by now."

"If it were Di E, we wouldn’t dare stable it with other horses," Huang Zixiang replied, finally cracking a slight smile. "Go test Fu Xinruan’s hair now. Hopefully, you’ll find something."

"Right, right, I’ll go at once!" Zhou Ziqin scurried off, cradling the hair.

Peering into his courtyard, Huang Zixiang saw A Bi and A Yan calmly playing cat’s cradle, the two bronze figures standing under the eaves, and a row of animal skulls—cows, sheep, pigs—lining the windowsill. Clearly, Zhou Ziqin had only grown more eccentric since arriving in Shu.

Her thoughts turned to Li Shubai, so she left the prefectural office and headed for the inn.

Chengdu lay low in a basin, surrounded by mountains, with little sunlight throughout the year. Now in summer, the air was thick with humidity. Yet Huang Zixiang, long accustomed to it, found even the wind’s familiar curve comforting.She knew the streets and alleys of Chengdu like the back of her hand, and with a few twists and turns, she arrived at the inn at the entrance of the lane. After changing her clothes in her own room, she hurried next door to listen for any sounds, wanting to see if Li Shubai had fallen asleep. Unexpectedly, as soon as she reached the door, Li Shubai's voice came from inside: "Come in."

Huang Zixiang pushed the door open and entered to find Li Shubai sitting by the window, sipping tea. Seeing her come in, he gestured to the chair in front of him.

After a brief hesitation, Huang Zixiang sat down, refilled his cup, and asked, "Your Highness, do you know whose body we went to see today?"

Li Shubai's gaze remained fixed on the countless households of Chengdu outside the window as he replied indifferently, "Fu Xinruan, one of the Yunshao Six Maidens."

Huang Zixiang was once again amazed by his uncanny ability to predict things. "How did Your Highness guess?"

"Fu Xinruan recently died in Chengdu under suspicious circumstances. Do you think Ziqin wouldn’t know about it? Clearly, he hasn’t been able to make sense of it yet and needs your help."

She nodded and said, "There are indeed many suspicious points. Fu Xinruan had strange black marks on her right fingers. Ziqin plans to start there and examine whether the poison might be the issue."

Li Shubai said nothing more, only gazing out the window, lost in thought.

Huang Zixiang joined him in observing the scenery outside.

The slanting rays of the setting sun filtered through the clouds, casting a hazy golden glow over the city. Every household in Chengdu boasted hollyhocks and hibiscus, and even the warm, humid air seemed to shimmer with brightness.

"Chengdu is truly a wonderful place, isn’t it?"

Lost in her thoughts, she suddenly heard Li Shubai speak these words. She instinctively nodded, and he stood up, saying, "Let’s go. Show me around this place."

Huang Zixiang was slightly surprised. "Your Highness, wouldn’t you prefer to rest a little longer?"

He shook his head. "I’d like to see the places you used to frequent."

She let out a puzzled sound, thought for a moment, and asked, "The places... I used to go?"

Li Shubai nodded. "Perhaps... it might help with your family’s case?"

Though she felt this was just an excuse, Huang Zixiang didn’t press further. She followed him out the door, heading toward the liveliest parts of Chengdu.

Dusk had already fallen, and the lingering sunset bathed the streets and alleys of Chengdu in a gentle glow. The stone-paved roads were lined with shops—some already closed, others lit by lanterns at their entrances. The flickering lights illuminated their path, weaving through the twists and turns of the city.

According to the laws of the dynasty, Chengdu should have observed a curfew. However, since the An Lushan Rebellion, government decrees had become lax. Even the capital’s curfew was no longer strictly enforced, with night travelers often seen near the East and West Markets of Chang’an. Chengdu, far from the capital, had long abandoned the pretense of a curfew.

As they walked, they passed embroidery workshops and brocade shops, where the dazzling silks and embroideries hung, glowing even more brilliantly under the lantern light. Shu embroidery and Shu brocade were renowned throughout the Tang Dynasty, highly sought after by the people of the time. Her gaze lingered on the embroidered sachets adorned with auspicious patterns in five colors. She remembered how she had once wanted to craft such a beautiful item to hang from someone’s waist. But in the end, lacking both time and skill, it had been left unfinished in a drawer in her room—

By now, that incomplete sachet had likely been cleared out and discarded by others.

The night streets of Shu were filled with an abundance of snacks and delicacies.Huang Ziyao used the money found on the captive to buy roasted goose wings and feet. After a moment's thought, she handed the wings to Li Shubai, saying, "Your Highness soars high in the clouds, so the wings are for you. As for me, grounded in Shu, the goose feet will suffice."

Li Shubai looked down at her upturned face amidst the bustling crowd. Under the flickering lights of the night market, her eyes shone brightly.

Like stars in the vast sky, pearls in the deep sea—the only shimmering light in his otherwise dim life.

He slowly took the goose wings wrapped in oiled paper from her, then tore another sheet from the stall. Dividing the pair, he gave one wing back to her and took one goose foot for himself.

Holding the newly apportioned wings and feet, Huang Ziyao was still puzzled when she heard Li Shubai's whisper by her ear. It seemed to come from somewhere far, far away, resonating in her chest like ripples spreading across water.

"Between heaven and earth, the distance is too great."

Standing there, she suddenly felt a surge of emotion she couldn't comprehend, leaving her flustered and at a loss.

After a long pause, seeing Li Shubai had already walked ahead, she hurried to catch up, silently eating the roasted goose. This was Chengdu's most famous roast goose—crispy outside, tender inside, perfectly cooked with intoxicating aroma—one of her favorite treats from her time in Chengdu.

Taking a bite, she worried whether such common street food might displease Li Shubai. Sneaking a glance, she found him standing head and shoulders above the crowd, looking back at her.

She edged through the throng to his side and asked, "Is it good?"

He nodded slightly.

Gazing at his striking features illuminated by lantern light, she felt inexplicably nervous. Trying to lighten the mood, she joked, "We're being hunted—do you think this might be poisoned?"

"Unlikely," Li Shubai replied calmly. "Our pursuers may not yet know our identities. Besides, they didn't hesitate to use Princess Qile as bait for a sure strike—why would they resort to such uncertain methods?"

"True. Setting our lodgings ablaze would be far simpler than poisoning us in the streets," Huang Ziyao agreed.

Li Shubai nodded. "Exactly. From the moment our cover is blown, we must choose our hideouts carefully."

"Which means," Huang Ziyao continued thoughtfully, "the people we meet next—or rather, everyone we encounter before the next attack—will be crucial."

Li Shubai glanced at her but only nodded in silence.

Moving through the crowd like ordinary citizens, they navigated the ebb and flow of the streets. None noticed them—nor the occasional brush of shoulders when jostled by the crowd, or strands of hair touching when caught by the wind.

At the street's end stood a stationery shop displaying white and yellow hemp paper, colored sheets, and gold-flecked letter paper. Though Yizhou hemp paper was the imperial standard—and Li Shubai's usual choice—the civilian-grade quality here made him set it down after brief inspection.Huang Ziyao crumpled a piece of yellow hemp paper in her hand, her thoughts drifting to the late emperor's final brushstrokes. Those too had been drawn on yellow hemp paper from Shu Province. To this day, no one could decipher the meaning behind those three smudged doodles or glimpse the reason behind them.

Li Shubai must have thought the same, for he turned to glance at her before murmuring, "When my father painted, he usually used white hemp paper. Yellow hemp paper... was typically reserved for writing."

Huang Ziyao's eyes widened in astonishment as she stared at him.

His gaze remained fixed on her. The shop was cramped, bringing them uncomfortably close. His lowered voice brushed against her ear, so faint she could almost feel his breath—light as ink dispersing in water—as he said, "So at that time, he intended to write something, not paint—and certainly not those incomprehensible scribbles."