The Golden Hairpin

After bidding farewell to Zhou Ziqin, Huang Ziyao and Li Shubai returned to the inn.

The night was deep, and they were about to retire to their respective rooms, pausing briefly in the courtyard to exchange a few words.

“What’s your next step in the investigation?”

“Among the leads we’ve identified, the servant woman Tang Zhuniang is already dead. After the case of the lovers’ suicide, when we sought her out, she died immediately—there must be something suspicious about it. Tomorrow, we should send someone to Hanzhou at once to question those who were close to her and see if we can uncover any clues from her daily life to determine why the killer targeted her.”

Li Shubai nodded and added, “Most of the people who previously worked in the prefect’s residence are still around, but none seem suspicious. It appears no one profited from the massacre of your family. Tracing the source of the poison and identifying the culprit will undoubtedly expand the scope of the investigation, making it quite challenging.”

Huang Ziyao nodded, lifting her gaze to the dark blue night sky. The crescent moon hung high, the Milky Way stretched low, and the stars sparkled like scattered pearls.

This late night in Chengdu was exactly the same as the night she had fled.

On the day her family perished, she had been framed as the murderer and fled Chengdu in panic. Back then, the stars and moon had been dim, and she could not see the path ahead. Her only thought was to head north, clinging to the faint hope of finding someone in the capital who could help her clear her name and seek justice for her family.

Yet, deep down, she had been consumed by despair. She hadn’t truly believed she would find anyone willing to aid her. On those dark mountain paths, she had wandered aimlessly, convinced her life would be forever buried in darkness.

Who could have imagined that now, with the help of the man beside her, she would return to Chengdu to uncover the truth?

Her gaze shifted to Li Shubai, taking in his silent profile. His slightly lowered lashes veiled his eyes, and the faint curve of his lips remained cool and detached. But only Huang Ziyao knew what lay hidden beneath that icy exterior.

Otherwise, why would he—after dragging her out from beneath the carriage seat in her wretched state—have agreed to her bargain and brought her to Shu Prefecture to pursue the truth, when he could have just as easily cast her aside without mercy?

As if sensing her gaze, he turned slightly and looked at her.

Their eyes met directly.

Huang Ziyao found herself staring into his unfathomably deep gaze, feeling as though it pierced straight into the core of her chest, making her heart race uncontrollably.

“Rest early. Tomorrow’s search may cover a wide area, so take care of yourself,” Li Shubai said softly.

“Mm. You too, Your Highness,” she replied with a nod.

Just as they were about to retire to their rooms, loud banging erupted from outside—someone was pounding on the front gate in the dead of night, startling half the street awake.

The innkeeper, who had been sleeping behind the counter, drooling in sweet slumber, was rudely awakened. Grabbing an oil lamp, he stormed out, ready to curse—only to freeze the moment the light illuminated the figure outside. Swallowing his anger, he forced a smile and asked, “Guest, are you here to stay?”

The man’s voice was hoarse and urgent. “My friend is injured—quickly, get us a room!”

Huang Ziyao recognized the voice and hurried outside. Li Shubai followed, murmuring, “Why would Zhang Xingying bring someone here in the middle of the night?”The dim light of a single lamp in the outer hall fell upon Zhang Xingying as he stepped through the doorway. He was clutching tightly to a figure in tattered clothes, his face etched with anxiety and smeared with blood.

His towering stature and fearsome appearance explained why the inn attendant hadn't dared stop him, merely offering cautious advice: "Sir, your friend seems gravely injured. Perhaps you should seek a physician."

"A physician... where can I find one?" he asked.

Before the attendant could respond, Li Shubai's low exclamation cut through the air: "Jingyu."

The wounded man leaning against Zhang Xingying trembled violently at the sound of his voice. With great effort, he raised his head—which had been hanging limply against his chest—and whispered, "Your High—"

"Yes, he is Wang Kui. Do you recognize him?" Huang Zixiang, who had already moved to their side, swiftly interrupted.

In the faint lamplight, Jingyu's pallid face showed barely any signs of life, yet his eyes remained fixed on Li Shubai with an intense glow. Realizing it was inappropriate to reveal Li Shubai's identity here, he fell silent.

Li Shubai instructed Zhang Xingying to help Jingyu into his room first. The attendant watched the two blood-covered figures with a pained expression but didn't dare speak.

"I'll fetch a physician," Huang Zixiang said, borrowing a battered lantern from the attendant before hurrying out.

Familiar with every corner of Chengdu, she quickly located a clinic at the street corner and pounded on the door.

Inside, Physician Zhai—known for his compassionate nature—never refused house calls, even in the dead of night. Hearing Huang Zixiang's report of a severely injured man, he hastily gathered his medical kit and followed her.

By the time they returned to the inn, Jingyu had been laid down. His bloodied, torn clothes had been removed, and he lay under a quilt, barely conscious.

After examining his pulse and wounds, Physician Zhai shook his head. "This young man has been injured for days. Many of his wounds have already festered, yet he's clung to life until now—already a precarious state. Now with fresh injuries compounding old ones... I fear the situation is grave. I can only prescribe some medicine. Whether he recovers depends entirely on whether his constitution can withstand this ordeal."

Physician Zhai removed Jingyu's clothes, sterilized a blade with strong liquor over flame, and began cutting away the necrotic flesh.

Huang Zixiang waited outside, leaning against the wall as Jingyu's muffled screams tore through the air. She bit her lower lip hard.

Who had sent those assassins? Someone who could mobilize the capital's Ten Divisions, use Princess Qile as a weapon, and anticipate every move of Li Shubai and herself—who could it possibly be?

First, the Emperor's plump, kindly smiling face surfaced in her mind, followed by Wang Zongshi's viper-like gaze. Yet others lurked in the shadows—Empress Wang, Consort Guo, Pang Xun, and Fan Yingxi, the military governor of Xichuan right before them... In this world, nothing was more inscrutable than human hearts. Who could say which smiling face concealed murderous intent?

The door creaked softly as Zhang Xingying emerged. He stood awkwardly beside her, glancing her way with unspoken words.

Huang Zixiang broke the silence: "Yes, it's me."

"So it really is you..." he murmured, his tall frame slumping before her in abject misery.Huang Zixiao sighed and asked, "How did you run into Jing Yu?"

"I... I was originally planning to search around Shu for any trace of A Di. But yesterday, after leaving Chengdu Prefecture and walking along the mountain path, someone suddenly came galloping toward me on horseback. The mountain path was narrow, and I couldn’t dodge in time—I was knocked right off the cliff..."

Fortunately, that section of the cliff was a slope. Zhang Xingying managed to grab hold of a small tree, barely stopping his fall.

When he looked around, he realized he was already near the bottom of the cliff. He climbed down, drank some water, and sat by the stream to reset his dislocated arm.

Suddenly, a low growl reached his ears. Zhang Xingying turned to see a leopard charging straight at him. His right arm had just been reset, and he knew he couldn’t fight back. Instinctively, he tried to flee.

The leopard was lightning-fast, its sharp fangs aimed straight for his throat. Just as he closed his eyes, resigned to death, a rock came flying from the side, knocking the beast away.

Zhang Xingying thought ruefully that if the rock had been just a bit bigger, the leopard’s skull would have been shattered. When he turned to look, he saw the person who had thrown it—covered in blood, leaning against a large boulder by the river, already severely injured. Even in that state, the man had mustered the strength to help him.

Zhang Xingying rushed to his side. Together, they used the boulder as cover, hurling rocks at the leopard. Though the man was weak, his aim was true, and Zhang Xingying, though his right arm was useless, still had strength in his left. With plenty of stones on the riverbank, they managed to drive the beast off with its yelps of pain.

The leopard, desperate from hunger, had dared to attack humans. But seeing the two men united, it knew it stood no chance. After pawing the ground in frustration, it finally slunk back into the forest.

Only when the leopard was completely gone did Zhang Xingying turn to the man. "Brother, are you alright?"

To his surprise, the man asked, "Zhang Xingying... What are you doing here?"

Zhang Xingying was stunned. "You know me?"

"Of course... I’m Jing Yu from Prince Kui’s residence."

"Eunuch Yu told me bits and pieces along the way... He said after His Highness was in danger, he broke through the encirclement but got separated, suffering arrow wounds. When he finally escaped the forest, the scent of blood attracted wild beasts..." Zhang Xingying glanced toward the room, his voice low with worry. "It’s a miracle he made it this far. I hope he’ll be alright..."

Huang Zixiao knew that even though they had only spent a day and half a night together, fighting side by side and helping each other back, they had formed a bond forged in adversity—just like her and Li Shubai.

Zhang Xingying looked at her in the dim light of the corridor, hesitating before asking, "Then... Huang—no, Brother Yang, why are you here?"

"We were ambushed on the road. To hide our tracks, we’re staying here for now," Huang Zixiao explained briefly.

Jing Yu’s voice inside had grown fainter. Huang Zixiao hurried to fetch a basin of hot water. When the doctor stepped out, she carried it in. Zhang Xingying took it from her, saying, "Let me do it."

He sat by the bed, wiping the blood from Jing Yu’s body. Seeing the crisscross of bandages covering his wounds, he found it hard to even begin cleaning. He could only manage to wipe Jing Yu’s face and neck, his heart heavy with sorrow.