The Golden Hairpin

Everyone was busy serving him tea and water, treating him like a savior, leaving Huang Zixiao, the actual young eunuch, with nothing to do.

With nothing else to occupy her, she took out the hairpin from her bun and sketched the layout of Jianfu Temple, trying to reconstruct the events of that day.

When the candle exploded after being struck by lightning, one of the suspects, Lü Zhiyuan, was at home, with multiple witnesses including a physician and neighbors, essentially ruling him out—unless she could find a way he could have harmed Wei Ximin from halfway across Chang’an.

The second suspect, Zhang Xingying. The moment Wei Ximin caught fire was precisely when Zhang had approached the giant candle to pick up Di Cui’s fallen veil hat. Could he have pushed the candle over upon seeing Wei Ximin, burning him to death in revenge for Di Cui?

The third suspect, Lü Dicui. Since Wei Ximin had been standing by the candle, he must have also been close to Di Cui. Having grown up in a family that made candles, might she have known a way to make the candle beside her explode in an instant?

After some thought, she sketched a fourth possibility: Zhang Xingying and Lü Dicui conspiring to kill Wei Ximin together inside Jianfu Temple.

Hesitating, she then wrote down a fifth possibility: Lü Zhiyuan and Di Cui colluding, putting on an act in front of others to kill Wei Ximin.

But as she looked at this fifth scenario, she sighed and slowly crossed it out.

So, these were the possibilities that had surfaced so far.

She then retrieved the Dali Temple investigation documents handed to her by Li Shubai and compared the names listed on the pages.

These were all the individuals present or absent at the time of Consort Wei Baoheng’s injury—stable hands from the Defense Bureau, cleaners from the polo field—all enumerated. At Huang Zixiao’s request, their past interactions with the consort had also been noted.

However, as Huang Zixiao scanned the lines stating “never met the consort,” “once saw him at the yamen gate,” or “once fed fodder to the consort’s horse,” she couldn’t help but press her fingers to her forehead, overwhelmed.

“What’s wrong? You look even more frustrated than I am.”

The cool, detached voice behind her could only belong to Li Shubai.

She sighed. “If only I could be like you, with an encyclopedic knowledge of everyone in the capital.”

“Impossible. Chang’an has a million people. Even if I walked the streets every day, I couldn’t see them all—and no one can truly know another person, not even those they live with day and night.”

As he spoke, he took the stack of papers from her hands, flipping through them swiftly.

His eyes moved rapidly, skimming line after line, before he returned the documents to her and pointed to a name on one page. “This man—you should investigate him in detail.”

Huang Zixiao looked down. It was a man named Qian Guansuo, forty-two years old, the owner of Qian’s Carriage and Horse Company. The black horse that had stumbled had come from his stable.

When questioned by the Dali Temple, he had replied:

This horse was purchased from the Huo family stud farm in Zhangye in the fourth month of last year. It arrived in the capital in the sixth month and, after two months of rest, was delivered to the Capital Defense Bureau in the ninth month. Well-fed and highly trained, it had even earned praise from Commandant Wang. As for the horse stumbling, that was due to a horseshoe issue and had absolutely nothing to do with the batch of horses he had supplied.

When asked if he had any dealings with the consort, he flatly denied it, claiming he had never had the honor of meeting him.

Huang Zixiao was slightly surprised. “Your Highness means the consort’s accident is related to the origin of that horse?”"No, what I meant was—" His finger pointed to the line behind, "This Boss Qian actually met the Imperial Consort once."

Huang Zixiang raised an eyebrow. "How does Your Highness know that?"

"When that batch of horses arrived, Wang Yun invited me and several officials from the Ministry of War to test them. Imperial Consort Wei Baoheng was also present. During the trial, I overheard Wei Baoheng complain that the foreigners' accents were off, and it would take the horses a year or two to get used to commands in the capital's dialect. Everyone who heard him laughed, but only one man—a short, stout fellow leading a group of horse trainers—seemed lost in thought. Soon after, I heard rumors in the capital that the trainers at Qian's Carriage and Horse Company were all struggling to practice standard speech. A few even cursed Boss Qian in the streets, calling him a damned short fatso. So I figured Qian Guansuo, the owner of Qian's, must be that man."

Huang Zixiang nodded. "Hmm, in the Dali Temple records, even those who merely fed the Imperial Consort's horses admitted it. Since he concealed this, he must have something to hide."

Seeing she had taken note, Li Shubai said no more. He turned and signaled the Ministry of Works officials to remove the account books. "I've temporarily cut several expenses and scraped together over twenty-five thousand taels—enough for one round of repairs on Chang'an's waterways."

The Minister of Works wore a bitter smile. "Thank you, Your Highness, but... this year's rains will be heavy. I fear that even after this funding, another storm could clog the waterways again. Will Your Highness be able to secure more funds then?"

"Once is enough. I guarantee Chang'an won't face another blockage this year." He turned and motioned for Huang Zixiang to follow him back to the palace. "Tomorrow, gather the workers and supervisors. I'll announce new regulations to ensure they don't cut corners or slack off again."

Huang Zixiang accompanied Li Shubai back to the palace.

As the carriage rolled smoothly through Chang'an's streets, Li Shubai asked casually, "I couldn't ask earlier—did Empress Wang give you any trouble today?"

Huang Zixiang grimaced. "Of course. She actually asked a minor eunuch like me to help her return to Penglai Hall in Daming Palace."

He replied lightly, "That was a message for me. You needn't take it to heart."

"Yes... There was nothing else."

Li Shubai frowned slightly. "She summoned you specifically just to relay that?"

Huang Zixiang nodded.

Li Shubai's expression remained unchanged, but a flicker of something passed through his eyes. He didn't voice it, and she couldn't ask. Her gaze drifted absently out the window as they passed Chang'an's wards—some with high walls, others low, the shortest barely waist-high.

So, when they passed Daning Ward, she caught sight of two figures beyond the wall.

Inside the ward, a woman stood uneasily, her profile faint in the deepening twilight. The silhouette was blurred, but it made Huang Zixiang bolt upright. Without even calling for A-Yuan, she leaped from the carriage.

Fortunately, the carriage wasn't moving fast in the city streets. Nimble as ever, she landed with only a slight stumble before steadying herself.

Li Shubai glanced at her through the window and signaled Jing Yu beside the carriage.

The carriage turned a corner and slowed to a stop, waiting for Huang Zixiang in the shadows.Huang Zixiang crouched low and crept along the wall to where the two figures stood, listening quietly to their conversation.

The one with his back to the wall was a man with a warm, mellow voice. He said, "Miss Dicui, you didn’t even wear a veil, coming here alone. What are you trying to do?"

In the deepening twilight, it was Dicui who had immediately caught Huang Zixiang’s attention.

The person standing opposite her had a voice that struck Huang Zixiang as oddly familiar, but she had no time to dwell on it now—she could only hold her breath and listen to what followed.

Dicui stood before him, visibly flustered, her voice betraying extreme tension: "You... why are you looking for me?"

He gazed at her in silence for a long moment before finally speaking, though not in answer to her question. Instead, he asked, "You want to kill Sun the Pockmark, don’t you? That’s why you didn’t wear a veil—you weren’t planning to return, were you?"

Dicui stood rigidly before him, motionless, saying nothing.

"That man who just left—Zhang Xingying—he came here with the same intention as you, didn’t he?" As he spoke, he suddenly let out a soft laugh. "Sun the Pockmark should feel honored in the afterlife. So many people came to kill him on the same day—he’s practically in high demand. How amusing."

The sky darkened further, and Dicui’s face and figure melted into the night. The drum signaling the closing of Chang’an’s city gates sounded one beat after another—curfew was imminent.

Dicui clutched the front of her robe with trembling hands and said, "I... don’t know what you’re talking about... I—I have to go."

"What are you afraid of? The person you hated most has already died in that suffocating prison of his, just as you wished. Shouldn’t you be happy?"

Dicui said nothing more. She turned abruptly and strode toward the nearby ward gate.

"Dicui, wait..." The man called after her, his voice gentle as he caught up in a few strides.

She turned back to look at him in fright, instinctively stepping away.

But he crouched before her, reaching out to brush away a smudge of dust on her skirt. "You didn’t notice this, did you? Best not to leave it dirty."

Dicui tugged at her skirt and retreated another step, flustered. "I... I can take care of it myself."

She seemed utterly terrified of the man before her, backing away several more steps before suddenly turning and sprinting toward the ward gate.

The man straightened, watching her figure vanish into the darkness. He stood there silently for a long while before murmuring, as if to himself, "Dead is dead. There’s no finding someone like her again, is there?"

Huang Zixiang remained crouched at the base of the wall, listening as his footsteps slowly faded in the opposite direction. She was still lost in thought when a voice spoke behind her: "Not leaving yet?"

Recognizing Li Shubai’s voice, she turned in surprise to find the illustrious Prince Kui crouched beside her, eavesdropping just as she had been. Startled, she stammered, "Y-Your Highness!"

He didn’t respond, only headed toward the carriage waiting in the alley.

Huang Zixiang followed him and asked quietly, "Your Highness, did you recognize that man?"

"Didn’t you?" he countered.

Huang Zixiang nodded. After a long pause, she finally said, "The princess... is more beautiful than her."

Li Shubai gave a faint, dismissive smile, unwilling to dwell on the subject. Changing the topic, he said, "From what they said, it seems Sun the Pockmark is dead.""Yes, I'll go investigate right away." Huang Zitang said, about to return to the Dali Temple for information.

Li Shubai called after her: "Yang Chonggu."

She turned back to look at him, slightly surprised.

"No need to rush." Li Shubai frowned slightly and said, "Even the most urgent matters can wait until after a meal. Besides, someone is bound to come running to us soon."

Huang Zitang also realized she had been running around all day and was truly exhausted and hungry, so she silently followed him into the carriage.