The Golden Hairpin

The breeze was gentle over the water, rippling the reflection of the moon, stretching and flattening it in restless motion. Leaning against the railing, she heard a slightly cool voice beside her softly ask, "With such beautiful flowers and a full moon, why the melancholy?"

The moon on Mid-Autumn Festival was exceptionally bright.

The shadows of osmanthus trees swayed, their sweet fragrance drifting through the air. As dusk began to settle, countless delicate palace lanterns had already been lit among the osmanthus trees, their hazy reflections shimmering on the water's surface. With jade towers and floral shadows dancing in the wind, it was hard to tell whether this was heaven or earth.

In the pavilion by the water, female singers harmonized together, their voices clearer and more melodious than any instrument. On the platform, thirty young maidens in brocade robes danced gracefully with linked sleeves. Their rainbow garments and pearl-adorned accessories created a dazzling spectacle.

Huang Zixiang listened to the songs carried by the wind as she sat behind the water pavilion's curtains with several other ladies, watching the performance. This was the garden of the Western Sichuan Military Governor's residence. Today, on Mid-Autumn Festival, Governor Fan Yingxi was hosting Prince Li Shubai of Kui. Huang Zixiang had been invited by Lady Fan to join the Huang family's daughters in watching the "Rainbow and Feather Garment Dance."

This piece had been lost after the An Lushan Rebellion, but now a music troupe from Yangzhou had rediscovered and rearranged it with the help of retired court musicians, said to have captured its original essence perfectly.

The men were gathered in the front hall, while Huang Zixiang and the ladies remained in the inner quarters. The water pavilion was separated by a bamboo curtain, with another layer of gauze curtain inside, making the dancers outside appear distant and indistinct, like flowers viewed through mist.

The women chatted idly as they watched, their attention divided.

"Zixiang-jie, my brother often mentions you at home. Just yesterday he said you were as clever as him, and I scolded him harshly for it. How could he possibly compare to you?" Zhou Ziyan sat beside her, propping her chin on her hand as she smiled. "I think you must be the most perfect woman in the world!"

Huang Zixiang felt slightly embarrassed and lowered her head. "Not at all."

Like her brother Zhou Ziqin, Zhou Ziyan excelled at monologues, never letting others dampen her cheerful mood. "You're perfect in every way! You're beautiful, from a prestigious family, and a renowned talent. Your fiancé is the eldest grandson of the Langya Wang family's main branch. Once you marry into the Wang family, your life will surely be blissful!"

Huang Zixiang remained silent, bowing her head without reply, her gaze drifting past the two layers of curtains to rest on the slightly blurred figure of Wang Yun. Though not entirely clear, his distinguished bearing was enough to captivate countless women.

Her fiancé since childhood, he came from an illustrious family—refined, elegant, and effortlessly charming. Yet despite knowing she shouldn't, she couldn't help developing forbidden feelings for Yu Xuan, an orphan taken in by her parents.

The love letters she wrote to Yu Xuan later became evidence in the accusation that she had poisoned her own family. Forced to flee, she headed to the capital to clear her name—where she encountered the most pivotal turning point in her life.

Her gaze traveled past Wang Yun, settling on a figure further away.

Amid the crowd of fawning admirers, he stood out—aloof, pristine, and exquisitely distinguished. Prince Li Shubai of Kui, the miracle in her life, her savior in despair. Without hesitation, she abandoned her original plans and took on the first mystery by his side, bargaining for his help to return to Sichuan and overturn the case against her family—and herself.Now, he had truly brought her back to Chengdu, and the wrongful accusations against her parents had been cleared. Yet her betrothed, Wang Yun, had secretly pursued Li Shubai to this point. What shocked her even more was that after her relationship with Yu Xuan had become the talk of the town, and after she had mercilessly exposed his identity as an assassin, Wang Yun still went to her clan to revive that betrothal agreement.

Could the two of them still possibly unite?

That marriage arranged so many years ago—now with everything changed, was it still to be honored?

As Huang Zixiang stood lost in thought, sudden exclamations from the crowd snapped her back to reality. She turned to see that all the dancers on the stage had faded into the background, leaving only one resplendently adorned woman at the center, spinning with abandon. Her delicate gestures flowed like wind and swirling snow, her glances captivating. Layers of sheer silk fluttered around her like mist and clouds, framing her face like a celestial maiden from the moon palace, radiant and breathtaking.

Everyone around her gasped in awe. Only when the colorful clouds seemed to veil the moonlight, and her figure was obscured by the crowd, did they finally regain their senses.

Someone asked, "Who is that leading dancer?"

"Who else could it be? That dancer from Yangzhou... or was it Puzhou? In any case, she must be the sister of that murderess, Gongsun the Elder. She’s been fawning over Governor Fan, and it’s said he’s already agreed to pardon those two female criminals."

Huang Zixiang suddenly recalled someone and couldn’t help but exclaim, "Lan Dai?"

"Yes, I think that’s her name!"

Huang Zixiang gazed at Lan Dai, whose figure flickered in and out of view among the crowd, graceful as a startled swan, and couldn’t help but feel moved. Lan Dai, ranked third among the Six Maidens of Yunsao, excelled in soft dances and was the most loyal among her sisters. After Mei Wanzhi disappeared, it was she who tirelessly searched for Mei’s daughter, Xue Se, and took her in to raise. And now, with Gongsun the Elder and Fu Xinruan in trouble, she had traveled thousands of miles to save them.

Someone nearby remarked, "I heard she’s a married woman with children. How shameless to dance so provocatively in public, all dolled up for others’ amusement. Doesn’t her husband care?"

Another scoffed, "What do you expect from a lowly entertainer? Any man who’d marry such a woman must be from the dregs of society."

The noblewomen finally found common ground, their faces lighting up as they huddled together, whispering. Meanwhile, young girls like Zhou Ziyan watched Lan Dai with a mix of shyness and fascination, utterly entranced.

Huang Zixiang sighed involuntarily. Amidst the ethereal strains of the "Rainbow Skirt, Feathered Dress" melody, she wandered absently to the railing and stared blankly at the full moon reflected in the water below.

A gentle breeze rippled the surface, stretching and distorting the moon’s reflection, restless and unsettled. Leaning against the railing, she heard a cool, quiet voice beside her murmur, "Under blooming flowers and a full moon—why so melancholy?"

She turned and glimpsed Li Shubai through the gauzy curtain. While the entire hall was captivated by Lan Dai’s dance, he alone had noticed her solitary retreat.

Huang Zixiang lowered her head against the railing, inching a couple of inches closer to him through the curtain, and whispered, "I just miss my family."Li Shubai turned his head silently to gaze at her. She saw his profile, elegant and striking under the moonlight, his eyes reflecting faint ripples of light like scattered stars. His voice, low and gentle, sounded beside her: "The departed are long gone, but the living must carry on. Your family surely wishes for your happiness in this world and wouldn’t want to see you lost in sorrow forever."

She nodded slowly. A breeze stirred, causing the gauze curtains to sway gently, mirroring the unrest in her heart. The full moon hung over his left shoulder, casting his tall, straight shadow upon her—steady and reliable.

An indescribable emotion welled up in her chest, a misty, swirling sensation that made the world before her eyes twist and distort, more ethereal than the music carried by the wind.

Neither spoke further, both quietly watching the full moon rise in the east, its silver light spilling over the rooftops. The air was filled with the sounds of qin, xiao, and sheng, the Rainbow Skirt and Feathered Coat Dance playing its twelve rapid movements. Thirty dancers spun faster and faster, their colorful silks swirling like wind and clouds upon the water.

Amid the chaotic dance and the frantic music, Li Shubai suddenly frowned slightly and let out a soft, puzzled sound.

Huang Zixiao asked, "What is it?"

Li Shubai replied thoughtfully, "The second konghou seems to have a metallic dissonance."

The Rainbow Skirt and Feathered Coat Dance was a grand ensemble performance. Nearly all the courtesans of Chengdu Prefecture had gathered for the occasion, with two pipas, two guqins, two konghous, one se, one zheng, and one ruanxian, along with two bili, two flutes, two shengs, one xiao, and various bells, drums, gongs, cymbals, and chimes—a troupe of over twenty musicians seated at the edge of the stage as customary.

Huang Zixiao couldn’t even see the musicians clearly, let alone discern the metallic dissonance he mentioned. She merely glanced in that direction and said offhandedly, "Perhaps they played a wrong note."

Li Shubai turned to her with a smile and said nothing more.

Leaning against the railing, they watched the dance and music through the curtains. The lanterns illuminated the pavilions and towers, while the water mirrored the dancers’ swirling movements, creating a spectacle of blooming flowers above and below. The shimmering waves carried the faint scent of osmanthus, a scene of resplendent beauty.

Just then, a distant scream echoed from the lakeshore, followed by a frantic shout: "Something terrible has happened!"

Huang Zixiao looked toward the source of the commotion—a patch of calamus by the water’s edge. A servant came running, yelling, "Help! There’s a dead body!"

At the word "dead," Zhou Ziqin, who was also present, reacted the fastest, dashing toward the shore in an instant.

The women in the waterside pavilion gasped in fright, clutching their chests—all except Huang Zixiao and Zhou Ziyan, who remained composed. Huang Zixiao straightened up and peered beyond the curtains, only to hear Li Shubai’s calm voice: "Let’s go take a look."

She nodded and lifted the curtain to descend the steps.

Her aunt, who had come with her, called out anxiously from behind the curtain, "Zixiao, where are you going?"

"I’m going to see the deceased," Huang Zixiao replied with a slight bow before turning swiftly toward the calamus thicket.

Her aunt stamped her foot in frustration. "You’re a woman—what business do you have looking at a corpse...?"

Ignoring her, Huang Zixiao strode briskly toward the scene.Zhou Ziqin was crouching among the calamus reeds, examining a female corpse lying face down. The victim's head was submerged in the water, her shoulders and chest barely visible beneath the surface, while her waist rested on the muddy ground. Her hands were thrust forward into the muddy water, creating an awkward and bizarre death posture in the water.

"Chonggu, come take a look at this body!" Zhou Ziqin called out when he saw her approaching, waving urgently. He still preferred to call her Yang Chonggu, as if he couldn't quite accept the fact that she was a woman.

Huang Ziyao stopped near the corpse's feet, noticing the soft mud ahead. Her silk shoes and pleated skirt made it inconvenient to proceed further, so she took a lantern from a nearby constable and shone it on the body.

The deceased was a slightly plump woman with her hair styled in a lily bun, now completely covered in mud. Her clothing was so caked with sludge that its original appearance was indistinguishable.

Zhou Ziqin turned the body over and pulled her hands out of the muddy water, rinsing them clean.

The woman appeared to be about eighteen or nineteen years old, with fair skin and regular features—she must have been quite pretty in life. Her hands were slender and delicate, though covered in numerous small scratches from the mud. There was also a fresh wound stretching from the back of her hand to below the knuckle of her index finger.

Huang Ziyao slowly raised the lantern to examine the corpse's face, noticing traces of lead powder still clinging to her skin. "Ziqin, call the manager of tonight's music troupe. Let him identify if she's one of theirs."

"Ah! Bitao! How tragic your death is!"

The music troupe manager burst into tears, his face contorted in grief.

Zhou Ziqin asked, "She was from your troupe?"

"Yes, Bitao was one of ours. After arriving here with everyone, she said it was still early and went to stroll around the garden. But when it was time to perform, she still hadn't returned! Fortunately, Yuli, who came with her, had also learned 'The Rainbow Skirt and Feathered Coat Dance,' so we had Yuli substitute."

Huang Ziyao glanced at Yuli, a petite girl covering her face as she wept, crying out between sobs, "Master... Master..."

While she was observing, Zhou Ziqin leaned over and said, "Chonggu, this case is really difficult!"

Huang Ziyao looked at him. "How so?"

"Look, there are many puzzling aspects! First, the victim died face down by the water's edge. The cause of death should be drowning from having her head forcibly held underwater. But Bitao's hair, though somewhat disheveled, shows no signs of having been grabbed."

Huang Ziyao nodded.

Encouraged by her lack of objection, Zhou Ziqin enthusiastically continued with the second point: "Second, the killer who held her head underwater must have been crouching or kneeling beside her. Yet there were no footprints near her at the time. Could the killer have been crouching on top of her? How would that even work?"

After a moment's thought, Huang Ziyao asked, "So what do you think we should do next?"

"I think we should start by checking everyone's shoes and clothes. Anyone with mud stains or wet clothing should be detained for questioning, with special attention given to strong men."

Huang Ziyao countered, "Didn't you say there were no footprints at the scene?"

"Well... maybe the killer found some way to erase them?"Huang Zixiang crouched down, illuminating Bitao with the lantern in her hand. She rolled up Bitao’s sleeve and pointed at her wrist, asking, "Do you see these marks?"

Zhou Ziqin nodded and said, "Probably scraped by sand or gravel in the mud."

"Besides the marks from sand and gravel?"

Zhou Ziqin examined it carefully once more, then pointed at the long, thin scar stretching from the wrist to the base of the index finger. "This one... seems different."

Huang Zixiang tilted her head to look at him, signaling for him to think further. "Guess—why would such a mark appear? How was it made?"

Zhou Ziqin gasped. "Someone took something off her wrist! It must have scraped her at the time."

"Hmm..." Huang Zixiang nodded, then turned to the music troupe manager. "Was Bitao the second konghou player in your troupe?"

The manager immediately nodded. "Exactly!"

"So, tonight, the one who replaced Bitao as the second konghou player was Yuli?"

"Yes, 'Rainbow and Feather Garments Dance' requires two konghous. Bitao played the second one. There were no solos, just harmonies, so we dared to let Yuli substitute."

Huang Zixiang shifted her gaze to Yuli, who was weeping bitterly, and said slowly, "So, I think Miss Yuli should explain why she killed her teacher. What do you all think?"

Her sudden accusation stunned everyone in the troupe. Yuli covered her face and wailed, "Me... why me? I’m innocent..."

Zhou Ziqin was shocked. He glanced at Huang Zixiang’s resolute expression before circling Yuli doubtfully, then quietly returned to whisper in Huang Zixiang’s ear, "Chonggu, are you mistaken? Her clothes are clean, her shoes aren’t muddy—just a bit of dirt on her sleeves. And she’s much smaller than Bitao, her hands don’t seem strong enough to hold the victim underwater!"

Huang Zixiang remained silent. She walked over to Yuli and rolled up her sleeve.

Beneath the sleeve, wrapped around her wrist, was a coiled armlet—five or six loops thick.

Several of the musicians nearby immediately cried out, "That’s Bitao’s coiled armlet! She was showing it off just days ago, saying it was a gift from that scholar Chen Lunyun!"

Yuli instinctively clutched the armlet to her chest, but seeing everyone staring at her, she could only sob in panic, "This... this was lent to me by my teacher..."

"Really? Your teacher was so kind to you—not only disappearing at such a crucial moment to let you take her place but also lending you the armlet someone else gave her. But she seems to have forgotten one thing."

Huang Zixiang turned her gaze to the troupe manager. "Is your troupe usually so lax? Allowing jewelry during performances?"

The manager hastily replied, "No... we’ve repeatedly emphasized this. Every musician is told from the start—no jewelry when playing plucked instruments, no dangling earrings or long pendants when playing wind instruments. So even if they usually wear them, they must remove everything before performing to avoid affecting the music.""Yes, if it were a bracelet or a bangle, it might have been possible to conceal it discreetly in one's sleeve. But an armlet—if stuffed into clothing, it would bulge conspicuously and be immediately noticed. Moreover, with her master just deceased, if the armlet suddenly appeared on her wrist, wouldn’t that be undeniable proof of her guilt? So the only option was to wear it on her own arm. Fortunately, pushing it up slightly and letting her sleeve drape over it could hide it," Huang Zixiao explained, lowering the woman's hand. "That’s why you disregarded the rule that no jewelry should be worn during performances—because this was the only way to conceal the armlet. Unfortunately, your luck ran out. You happened to encounter Prince Kui, and during the performance, the armlet accidentally brushed against the strings of the konghou, which the prince heard."

Li Shubai and the others had also arrived and were listening to her unravel the case. At this point, he added, "Indeed. It was near the end of 'Rainbow Skirt Interlude' when I heard a metallic clink from the second konghou. Miss Huang must have deduced the truth from that."

The crowd's gazes toward Li Shubai were instantly filled with awe. The second konghou was merely an accompanying instrument, not the lead, and its sound was buried beneath over twenty other instruments. No one could have imagined he could pinpoint the source of that faint anomaly.

Others looked at Huang Zixiao with admiration—how could she deduce the culprit so swiftly from such scant clues?

Someone from the music troupe spoke up, "Now that I think about it, when we were taking our seats, we couldn’t find Bitao. It was Yuli who went to look for her, only to return saying she couldn’t find her—was that when she drowned Bitao in the water?"

"But that doesn’t make sense," the troupe manager said with a grimace. "Yuli is so petite—how could she have the strength? Could she really have held Bitao underwater alone and then calmly returned?"

Yuli nodded desperately, weeping, "Yes! I just admired Master’s armlet and wanted to wear it for a while. She took it off and let me try it on. I... I only wore it briefly. How does that make me a murderer?"

"Such a delicate woman—how could she possibly kill someone? And how could she have cleaned up the traces so quickly?" Zhou Ziqin also nodded. "Chonggu, maybe we should be more cautious and investigate further?"

"No need. I can reenact the scene right now," Huang Zixiao said, eyeing Zhou Ziqin. "Constable Zhou, could you find someone willing to assist me?"

Zhou Ziqin patted his chest. "No need for anyone else. I’ll do it."

Huang Zixiao blinked, then looked him up and down. Zhou Ziqin had been invited to celebrate the festival and wasn’t in uniform. Instead, he wore a lake-blue Shu brocade robe embroidered with pink floral clusters, a dazzling yellow belt around his waist, and a purple sachet, green pouch, silver sharkskin dagger... his outfit boasted at least a dozen colors.

Huang Zixiao suddenly felt that this man desperately needed to be dunked into the water—if only to wash away those garish, eye-searing hues.

"Fine," she said simply, waving him over. She then removed the armlet from Yuli’s wrist and led Zhou Ziqin to the lakeside reeds.She signaled Zhou Ziqin to raise his hand, then said, "It's a bit chilly today. I wonder if the water will be cold now."

Zhou Ziqin didn’t understand her meaning and simply replied, "When I helped you retrieve the corpse from the water in Chang'an last time, it must have been colder than today... But do you want me to go into the water now?"

"Wait a moment," she said, holding up the coiled armlet she had taken from Yu Li and tossing it forward. With a "plop," the shallow water stirred up a cloud of silt as the object sank beneath the surface.

Zhou Ziqin looked at her in surprise and asked, "Why did you throw the coiled armlet into the water?"

Huang Zixiao replied, "Why don’t you go fetch it back?"

Zhou Ziqin suddenly understood and hurried toward the calamus plants. Midway, he realized his feet were nearly sinking into the soft mud, making him hesitate again.

Huang Zixiao glanced back at Li Shubai, who understood her silent cue and stepped forward to grasp Zhou Ziqin's wrist, saying, "I'll hold onto you."

"Great!" Zhou Ziqin immediately gripped his hand, planted his feet in the mud, leaned forward, and began groping toward the area where the silt was churning.

Huang Zixiao exchanged a meaningful look with Li Shubai, who cast a sympathetic glance at the oblivious Zhou Ziqin before suddenly releasing his grip. Already leaning forward, Zhou Ziqin immediately toppled face-first.

Just as Zhou Ziqin was about to cry out, muddy water rushed into his mouth. As he flailed wildly, Li Shubai grabbed his ankles and lifted them, leaving him completely upside down, face buried in the muck. With his ankles held aloft, all his strength left him, and his hands found no purchase in the thick sludge. Even his swimming skills were useless as bubbles of all sizes erupted around him, leaving him dazed and choking.

Li Shubai quickly dragged him out. Having swallowed several mouthfuls of water, Zhou Ziqin collapsed among the calamus plants, spitting out mud and water like a disoriented crab.

Huang Zixiao handed him a towel and crouched beside him, asking, "Ziqin, are you alright?"

Wiping his hair and sneezing miserably, he replied, "I'm... fine... but I still haven't retrieved the armlet."

"Sorry about that, Ziqin," Huang Zixiao said, slipping the armlet off her own wrist. "Think about it—if the armlet had really been thrown into the water, how would the killer have retrieved it? There were no footprints near the body, so I'm certain the killer used the same trick I did: pretending to throw the armlet while actually tossing in something like a stone. The churned-up silt would obscure what had really fallen in, making the victim believe it had landed over there."

Zhou Ziqin nodded in sudden understanding. "Ah, I see..."

Nearby, Prefect Zhou Xiang watched his son with heartbroken dismay. But since it was Prince Kui who had done the deed, he could only force a bitter smile and order his attendants, "Quickly fetch a change of clothes for the constable."

Huang Zixiao turned to Yu Li, who had collapsed to the ground. She said slowly, "It was the mud stains on your sleeve that made me realize this method of murder. Though you must have tried hard to scrape off the dried mud afterward, faint traces remained—traces that perfectly matched the outline of her shoe. Tell me, how else could mud from her shoes have ended up on your arm?"

Yu Li's face turned ashen, her throat dry as she gasped soundlessly.

Zhou Xiang vented his frustration on her, ordering the constables to haul her up. "This vile, ungrateful wretch who betrayed her master and abandoned all decency—take her away and interrogate her thoroughly!"

Her fellow musicians wept as they watched, murmuring, "Yu Li, why were you so desperate...?"

"It's... heaven's injustice!" Yu Li shrieked despairingly as she was dragged away. "What did she have that I didn't? She was so stupid—after ten years of practice, she was still only the second-best harpist! I could play better than her just by watching! Just because she was prettier, she got to trample over me every day..."

Huang Zixiao sighed softly. "If you were truly a pearl, your brilliance would have been recognized. Why resort to such extremes?"Seeing her speak, the constables holding Yuli paused for a moment. Yuli's gaze fixed on Bitao's lifeless body as tears streamed down her face. Choking back sobs, she said, "She... she bullied me every day. I could endure that. But she knew how much I admired Young Master Chen, yet she deliberately clung to him daily, flaunting the armlet he gave her right in front of me..."

Her eyes took on an ashen hue as they shifted to Huang Zixiao's face: "I... I had planned this over and over for months, thinking it was foolproof... Yet I never imagined that before you, every flaw would be exposed at a glance..."

Huang Zixiao remained silent, watching as the constables led Yuli away.

Zhou Ziqin, standing behind her while drying his freshly washed hair, sighed, "That girl really couldn't see reason."

Huang Zixiao glanced back at him and nodded quietly, murmuring, "Bitao, Yuli. Such similar names—they must have entered the music troupe together. Yet one gained the manager's favor and rose to prominence, while the other remained nominally a disciple but essentially a servant. Coming and going together, they naturally both met the famously charming Chen Lunyun. This delicate balance persisted until now, when..."

Her gaze fell upon the golden armlet.

"The armlet Chen Lunyun gave Bitao became the final straw that broke Yuli."

"Thus we see how emotional entanglements wound most deeply in this world," came a voice from behind—controlled perfectly to reach her ears yet remain unheard by others.

That gentle, warm voice made Huang Zixiao pause before turning to look.

Wang Yun had been standing behind her all along, silently observing her solve the entire case before finally speaking.

His eyes were shadowed in the lamplight yet held a subtle glow as they fixed deeply upon her. Under his gaze, Huang Zixiao felt an inexplicable hollowness in her chest and instinctively lowered her head.

He continued calmly, as if remarking on nothing significant: "In this world, everyone has their own destined path. Why persistently yearn for what isn't yours, inviting unnecessary trouble? In the end, it only hurts both parties."

Her heart clenched violently. Though she understood his meaning, she found no strength to refute it, could only bow her head in silent acknowledgment.

The full moon tilted westward—the third watch had long passed.

With the grand banquet ending so disastrously, Fan Yingxi wore an expression of acute embarrassment. Fortunately, Huang Zixiao's swift resolution of the case left the guests marveling, momentarily eclipsing even the mesmerizing "Rainbow and Feather Garment Dance" that had earlier captivated them all.

As the crowd dispersed from the Fan residence, Huang Zixiao boarded her carriage with her aunt when a voice called from behind: "Zixiao."

Turning, she saw Wang Yun smiling beneath the lantern light at the gate, looking up at her in the carriage. Softly, he said, "Tomorrow I'll visit your family to discuss some matters. If you're free then, perhaps we might exchange a few words."

Her body stiffened slightly. She bowed her head in acknowledgment without reply, then quietly let the carriage curtain fall.

As her carriage departed, the tender smile faded from Wang Yun's face. He stood motionless, gazing at the deep blue night sky where the waning moon left the stars shining all the more brilliantly.In this world, things that seem out of reach always appear brighter. Or perhaps, it is because they are too bright that they feel unattainable.

Just like the woman he once thought was within his grasp had now become the most dazzling star in the distant Milky Way. That radiant light burned into his heart, leaving him restless day and night, consumed by longing he could hardly bear.

He mounted his horse, preparing to return to the Wang residence. A branch of the Langya Wang clan had migrated to Sichuan, where they held considerable assets. As a descendant of the main lineage, he was naturally treated with utmost respect.

The horse beneath him seemed drowsy as well, plodding along leisurely. The sound of golden bells reached his ears, and without turning, he knew it was Prince Kui’s carriage approaching. He guided his horse to the side to make way.

In the dimly lit streets of the night, only a single lantern glowed faintly at the corner. Li Shubai had already lifted the carriage curtain and called out to him, "Yunzhi."

Wang Yun nodded in acknowledgment. "Your Highness."

"Tonight is the Mid-Autumn Festival, and the celebration at the military governor’s residence was quite lively—yet I still feel it wasn’t enough. I recently acquired a fine cake of tea. Would you care to join me for a late-night tasting by the window?"

Wang Yun smiled gracefully. "The days are short, the nights long—why not enjoy them by candlelight? Since Your Highness is in such a refined mood, how could I refuse?"

Li Shubai said nothing more, signaling for him to follow. Before long, they arrived at Dun Chun Pavilion, where the prince was temporarily staying.

Dun Chun Pavilion was originally intended as an imperial retreat built during Emperor Xuanzong’s flight to Sichuan to escape the An Lushan Rebellion. However, before its completion, he was honored as the Retired Emperor by Emperor Suzong and returned to Chang’an, leaving behind the unfinished palace. The Sichuan authorities scaled down the design, renamed it a "pavilion," and repurposed it as an official garden. Now that Prince Kui had arrived, the local government hastily refurbished it for his temporary residence.

Wang Yun followed Li Shubai into Chunhua Hall. After tea was served, all attendants withdrew, including even Zhang Xingying.

The palace lanterns cast a bright glow over them. Both men understood each other’s thoughts, yet neither spoke openly, instead exchanging tacit remarks about trivial court matters. For instance, Princess Tongchang had recently been buried in her mausoleum, with a funeral procession stretching over twenty li. Some court officials criticized the ceremony as excessive, but the emperor posthumously honored her as Princess Weiguo Wenyi and personally mourned her at the palace gates with Consort Guo. After that, no one dared to voice further objections.

"And what of the imperial physicians’ families?" Wang Yun inquired. Blaming them for failing to save Princess Tongchang, the emperor had executed Han Zongshao, Kang Zhongyin, and several other physicians before imprisoning over three hundred of their relatives. Li Shubai had argued that such punishment had no precedent under Tang law, so the Court of Judicial Review refused to act. The emperor then handed the matter to Jingzhao Yin Wen Zhang, demanding collective punishment.

"The Censorate didn’t dare to protest. Chancellor Liu Zan personally pleaded for mercy but was rebuked and dismissed from court. He has since been demoted to Lingnan. Wen Zhang sentenced the three hundred to exile, but recently, someone accused him of accepting bribes for the lenient ruling. I doubt the emperor will let him off lightly." Li Shubai spoke casually, though despite being in Sichuan, he naturally knew the court’s affairs better than anyone.

Wang Yun sighed. "The affairs of the court are ever-shifting, with unpredictable storms and waves."Li Shubai casually picked up a tea bowl to prepare tea for him, smiling as he said, "Although the court is currently in a state of flux, everything is still within my expectations. There is only one thing that has left me utterly perplexed."

Li Shubai was a trendsetter in the capital, excelling in tea preparation, cuju, and polo. The froth on his tea was even and delicate, lingering for a long time. Wang Yun held the bowl with three fingers, admiring it as he asked, "What is it that even Your Highness cannot foresee?"

"I still remember three years ago, in the autumn, not long after I had made a name for myself. We first met by the Qujiang Pond. At the time, I thought you would take the imperial examinations the following year. To my surprise, you had learned of my plans to lead troops against the Uighurs beyond the frontier and wished to join me in the campaign."

The Langya Wang family had always been distinguished and refined, accustomed to entering officialdom through scholarly pursuits. Li Shubai had been quite astonished at the time and asked, "Why choose the military path? With your family background and connections, you would thrive effortlessly in the court."

"I have no desire to walk the broad, well-paved road others have laid out for me. Perhaps treading the path my ancestors deliberately avoided would be more interesting."

Under the bright autumn sun, Wang Yun was still a youth, yet the expression on his face seemed as if he had already glimpsed the destination his life would ultimately reach.

Li Shubai added Wang Yun's name to the list of accompanying guards submitted to the court. By mid-autumn, they had reached the edge of the desert, gazing from the beacon tower at the distant frontier. Amidst the withered grass and slanting sunlight, a lone plume of smoke rose straight into the sky, and a long river meandered through the land.

They rode across the desert in pursuit of the invading Uighur forces. Once, carried away by the chase, they continued until the moon rose, dozens of riders returning bloodied through the night. In the northern regions, snow fell as early as August. As the waning moon still hung in the sky, heavy snow began to drift down over the desert, the cold gleam of their armor piercing to the bone. Li Shubai, leading the charge, turned his horse and slowed his gallop, taking a wineskin from his saddle and tossing it to Wang Yun from afar.

A mouthful of strong liquor sent burning heat coursing through his veins. The chill was dispelled, and elated by their recent victory, the group sang boisterously with rough voices across the barren wilderness.

Wang Yun could not join in their raucous singing. Instead, he rode silently, gazing at the sky as they made their way back to camp. The encampment loomed in the distance, the white elm tree at its entrance faintly visible through the snow. Brushing snowflakes from his clothes, Wang Yun suddenly felt a stirring in his heart and recited, "The frontier mountains are shrouded in flying snow, the beacon fires long extinguished."

"And so, after that campaign against the Uighurs and our triumphant return to the capital, I never took you to the battlefield again," Li Shubai said slowly. "Everyone has their rightful place, and yours in this life is as the distinguished eldest son of the Langya Wang family amidst the flourishing blossoms of a prosperous era. A rare and peerless sword, no matter how sharp, is no match for the most ordinary blade on the battlefield. The wind, sand, and blood will only wear away its edge, perhaps even break this fine and exquisite weapon."

Wang Yun lowered his eyes in silence and said, "But the time I spent by Your Highness's side honed the blade. From then on, I walked this path—even if it was only from the Imperial Guards to the Left Jinwu Guard—at least I escaped the road my elders had laid out for me. For this lifetime... I will always be grateful for Your Highness's guidance."

"I know you speak from the heart, but in this world, there are always things that force us to act against our will. For instance, now that you have accepted the task to kill me, you must fulfill your duty and ensure my demise." Li Shubai's demeanor was relaxed, as if they were merely discussing the night outside the window.Wang Yun's expression faltered slightly, his fingers tightening involuntarily around the teacup he held. The cup tilted, and a few drops of foam that hadn't yet dissipated spilled over the rim.

He set the cup down slowly and looked up at Li Shubai.

The night was silent, the faint fragrance of osmanthus lingering in the air. On the day they first met at Qujiang Pool, it had been amidst this same osmanthus scent that he had bowed to Li Shubai and said, "Wang Yun of Langya, styled Yunzhi. From this day forth, I wish to follow Your Highness across the realm, guarding the Great Tang's rivers and mountains."

Those words still echoed in his ears, yet now, as they faced each other in the quiet night, the situation had come to this.

Wang Yun placed his teacup down deliberately and met Li Shubai's gaze, forcing a faint smile. "As a subject, Wang Yun acts under orders, bound by duty. I beg Your Highness's forgiveness."

Li Shubai, seeing how readily he admitted it, returned the smile. "If I truly minded, why would I have stopped Zixia from pressing the matter further last time? I understand my own position—and yours. What I do not wish for myself, I will not impose on others."

Wang Yun nodded silently. His thoughts lingered momentarily on the name "Zixia," hesitating at the intimacy with which Li Shubai spoke of his betrothed. But then he realized—someone like Li Shubai would never misspeak.

As if reading his mind, Li Shubai said calmly, "When you accepted this task, you should have known it was a plan to kill two birds with one stone. If I die, the court removes its greatest threat. If the plot is exposed, the Wang family will inevitably be implicated. Either way, the schemer sits back and watches the tigers fight, paving the way for their next move."

"So Your Highness... suppressed this matter, unwilling to let it spread, to avoid mutual destruction?"

"Aren't you the same?" Li Shubai paused briefly before continuing, "I know the arson wasn't your doing. Such slaughter isn't your style."

Wang Yun murmured, "I was aware of it... but powerless to stop it."

"No one could have stopped it. Anyone who tried would have been crushed. Liu Zhan was, Wen Zhang was, and so are you and I." For the first time, a trace of weariness surfaced on Li Shubai's perpetually composed face.

He fixed his gaze on Wang Yun and said quietly, "Now that you've failed in the task assigned to you and I've uncovered your identity, the Wang family may face trouble—but I can help you."

Wang Yun nodded slowly. "Your Highness's word is as weighty as the Nine Tripod Cauldrons—it will not fall short. Yet... I wish to know, what does Your Highness ask of the Wang family... or of me?"

Li Shubai remained silent for a long while.

The night deepened, all sounds hushed. On this autumn evening, the darkness seemed to congeal, swallowing all beauty and ugliness alike.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally made up his mind and spoke: "Renounce an old betrothal."

An old betrothal.

At fifteen, too bashful to go alone, he had dragged Li Run along to steal a glance at the girl—the fleeting profile of her turning her head flashed before his eyes now, hazy with memory.

It was the marriage arranged for him since childhood. A single sheet of paper, two names. She was a stranger, yet destined to become his closest companion.

And now, Li Shubai said: Renounce it.He lowered his head and let out an involuntary cold laugh. "Prince Kui truly knows how to assess the situation and leave no room for error," he said. "You're well aware that the survival of the Wang family now hinges on my word alone, yet you still put on this magnanimous front, pretending to give me a choice."

"Yunzhi, I owe you an apology in this matter," Li Shubai said quietly, lowering his gaze as he absentmindedly turned the teacup in his hand. "But have you considered that since Zixia once exposed Empress Wang's past, how would she fare if she were to marry into your family?"

Wang Yun sneered. "Once she becomes my wife, I will protect her with all my might. There's no need for Your Highness to concern yourself with that."

"Then, what if I were to go straight to the Emperor after your failed assassination attempt?" Li Shubai asked impassively. "How would your Wang family escape such a calamity? Even if you wished to protect her, how could you possibly do so?"

Wang Yun replied slowly, "The probability of the Wang family's downfall isn't as great as that of Prince Kui's residence, is it?"

Li Shubai's tone was cold. "Prince Kui's residence has the strength to resist. The Wang family does not."

The hall fell into silence again, the heavy night enveloping them both. The bright lamplight in the room felt oppressive as they saw the complex emotions in each other's eyes—dark, inscrutable, and unfathomable.

The steam from the tea curled upward, forming illusory shapes in the air before dissipating into nothingness.

After a long while, Wang Yun finally spoke in a low voice, "Since Your Highness already knows the whole truth, I won't hide anything from you. Do you know why the mastermind behind all this would act so recklessly at this moment, desperate to eliminate everything beyond their control?"

Li Shubai lowered his eyes and said quietly, "Perhaps it's because of the recent earthquake in Jiangnan Dao. Some say the court is about to undergo upheaval. Acting now would align perfectly with the right timing, location, and conditions."

"Then, what does Your Highness plan to do next?" Wang Yun pressed, his voice low but clear, each word enunciated deliberately. "Have you considered what might happen to Zixia by your side? Do you truly believe you can keep her safe in such circumstances? Though Your Highness is a man of extraordinary talent, adept at strategy, in the face of state affairs, human lives are as insignificant as grass—let alone a helpless young woman. Sometimes, the slightest misstep could destroy even the most delicate orchid."

"I will protect her," Li Shubai said, his gaze fixed on the crystal cup on the small table. A small crimson fish rested motionless at the bottom, as if asleep—or perhaps watching them—like a drop of blood suspended in water.

"There are things I must resolve, truths I must see with my own eyes. But you're right—I may not return from this. So I will make proper arrangements. I cannot let her face danger with me."

Wang Yun felt fury surge in his chest. He wanted to retort, but in the end, he restrained himself and said coldly, "Yet Your Highness had already made your decision long ago, proposing the annulment of the engagement from the start. It seems—Your Highness has already foreseen everything?"

"No. In truth, I have no certainty about my own future," Li Shubai murmured, lightly touching the surface of the water in the crystal cup. "I only wish to set her free."

Startled by the disturbance, the little fish flicked its tail, trying to escape the rippling danger. But the water trembled within the confines of the cup, leaving it no refuge—forced to endure the turmoil alone.Wang Yun suddenly stood up, his voice turning sharp: "Your Highness means to say that Zi Huang is not free or happy by my side?"

Li Shubai silently raised his eyes to look at him, observing this usually gentle and composed man now completely losing his calm over Huang Zihuang. He couldn't help but laugh and called out: "Yunzhi, don't be so agitated."

Seeing this rare smile from him, Wang Yun was momentarily stunned. He could only sit back down resentfully and stiffly said: "My apologies... Please forgive my rudeness, Your Highness."

"You've misunderstood me. In truth, I merely wish to give Zi Xia the freedom to choose. Whether she chooses you or me, there should be no constraints. And to ensure we stand on equal footing..." Li Shubai's smiling gaze shifted slowly from him to the window. The dense shadows of trees crouched silently in the night, like lurking beasts, like dream-devouring tapirs. "I will be returning to the capital soon, and that assassination attempt will be left behind. I won't pursue who was behind it or who led it, and the Wang family can put that storm to rest."

Wang Yun lowered his eyes without speaking, though his chin remained slightly raised.

Li Shubai poured him another cup of tea. The emerald-green tea filled the blue-green porcelain cup, the lamplight glinting on his slender, pale fingers—graceful as spring water and pear blossoms.

With a smile, he said, "Yunzhi, do you lack confidence in yourself? Do you truly believe that without the betrothal contract, Zi Xia wouldn't choose you?"

Seeing his leisurely and self-assured demeanor, Wang Yun felt a surge of heat in his chest that he couldn't suppress. Unconsciously, he reached out to take the cup from Li Shubai and said, "May Your Highness have a smooth journey north. I will swiftly settle matters here so as not to burden you with lingering concerns."