The Golden Hairpin

Prince Rui, Li Run, usually stayed quietly in his residence when he had nothing to do. Today, Li Shubai had already sent someone to inform him, so by the time they arrived, he had already prepared tea and was waiting for them.

Beside him lay a flat box.

"Fourth Brother, I heard something happened to Tongchang in Pingkangfang?" He personally poured tea for them, the steam from the boiling water curling upwards, filling the tea room with a hazy, almost surreal atmosphere.

Li Shubai nodded. "Yes, something happened."

"Was she injured?" he asked again.

Li Shubai shook his head. "She has passed away."

Li Run's hand froze, a few drops of tea splashing out unnoticed. He stared blankly at the swirling tea foam in his cup, his voice hoarse as if forced from his throat. "How... how did she die?"

"She was stabbed by her beloved Nine Phoenix Hairpin," Li Shubai said.

"Who did it?" he pressed.

Li Shubai shook his head. "The scene was chaotic, and the culprit wasn't caught."

Li Run set down the teapot, lost in thought for a moment, then murmured, "Tongchang was a princess. How could she die so inexplicably? It's simply unbelievable..."

"What's even more unbelievable isn't the princess's death, but..." Li Shubai gestured for Huang Ziyao to place the painting they had brought on the table and unfold it for him. "Seventh Brother, have you seen this painting before?"

Li Run nodded. "I saw it once at Zhang Xingying's home. I never thought... back then, the few of us pointed at these three scribbles and joked casually... yet they all came true."

"Yes, I heard about it too," Li Shubai sighed. "I also saw this painting before Tongchang's death but didn't pay much attention to it. If I had noticed something unusual then, perhaps things would be different today."

"Actually... I've long felt this painting was off," Li Run said hesitantly, struggling to speak. "The first time I saw it, I thought it was too eerie. Even after returning home and pondering it for days, I still couldn't make sense of it. I’m afraid only Fourth Brother can solve this mystery for me."

With that, he picked up the flat box beside him and opened it.

Inside was a folded piece of paper, seemingly an old cotton sheet used by the palace maids and embroiderers for sketching patterns. It bore two or three hastily drawn black ink blobs with eyebrow pencil. These scribbles were as chaotic as those in the Zhang family's painting.

Li Shubai and Huang Ziyao exchanged glances. Li Shubai picked up the painting and motioned for her to come closer to examine it together.

It was a cotton sheet the size of a handkerchief, clearly drawn by someone with no artistic skill—the lines were crooked and weak. The basic outlines of the two paintings were the same. The first: a thin line atop a black blob; the second: crisscrossing lines surrounding an incomprehensible ink blot; the third: two connected black shapes, one above the other.

The Zhang family's painting could barely be interpreted as depicting the deaths of three people. This one shared the same general outline but differed in details, making no sense at all—just three ink blobs.

After studying it for a long time, Li Shubai handed the painting to Huang Ziyao and asked Li Run, "Where did you get this painting, Fourth Brother?"

Li Run cradled his teacup and sighed softly. "I dare not hide it from you, Fourth Brother. This painting... was drawn by my mother."Huang Zixiang and Li Shubai were both slightly taken aback, never expecting this painting to have come from Li Run's mother. Huang Zixiang was unaware of the royal secrets, but Li Shubai knew very well that Li Run's mother, Consort Chen Xiuyi, was gentle, kind, and considerate. During the years when the late emperor was in poor health, she had been the one by his side, attending to him personally.

On the night the late emperor passed away, she was overwhelmed with grief, to the point of losing her sanity, becoming like a simpleton. With the approval of the other imperial consorts, Li Run brought his mother out of the palace to live in his princely residence.

"Mother passed away last year. A few days before her death, as if in a final moment of clarity, she recognized me. Perhaps it was heaven's mercy—I had always thought that in her memory, I would forever remain the child I was ten years ago." His lips curled into his usual faint smile, but his eyes welled up with tears. "In her last moments of lucidity, she gave me this painting. At the time, I didn’t pay much attention to it. But after her passing, I realized it was the only thing she had ever personally handed to me. So, even though I thought it might just be something she scribbled in her illness, I kept it in my study. Until a few days ago, when I saw this painting at Zhang Xingying’s home..."

His gaze shifted to the painting inscribed by the late emperor, his face filled with deep confusion. "But why would my father leave behind such a painting? And why, after more than a decade of illness, would my mother secretly recreate this painting and give it to me?"

Huang Zixiang held the cotton paper and asked, "Forgive my boldness, Prince E, but did the late consort say anything when she gave you this painting?"

"Mother said..." He frowned slightly and motioned for the attendants to leave. Only after everyone had withdrawn did he whisper, "Mother was not in her right mind at the time. She said, 'The Great Tang Empire...'"

The Great Tang Empire is about to fall.

But he couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud, only murmuring, "She was rambling incoherently, perhaps meaning that the empire was unstable, that the Great Tang was in decline... She also said this painting held the fate of the Great Tang and that I must keep it safe."

Li Shubai took the paper from Huang Zixiang and solemnly handed it back to him, saying, "Thank you, Seventh Brother. It seems now that this painting must have been your mother’s attempt to reproduce the late emperor’s final brushstrokes from memory."

Li Run took the painting back, even more bewildered. "That painting... was the late emperor’s final work?"

Li Shubai nodded. "I’ve checked the palace archives. The late emperor’s daily records indicate that Zhang Xingying’s father, Zhang Weiyi, entered the palace to attend to His Majesty on the tenth day of the eighth month in the thirteenth year of the Dazhong era."

Li Run recalled the events of that time. "I was still young then, but I knew that after His Majesty mistakenly took elixirs, his health had been failing since the fifth month of that year. By the seventh month, he was unconscious all day. The imperial physicians were at a loss, and we princes still in the palace were barred from seeing him by the eunuchs. Famous physicians from the capital were summoned, but none could do anything...""Zhang Weiyi was the last physician to enter the palace on the day of my father's passing," Li Shubai said quietly. "I have already sent someone to inquire about his visit to the palace that year. According to his recollection, he was a renowned physician from Duanruitang in the capital. In the seventh month, he was summoned to the palace to diagnose my father's pulse. However, at that time, my father was already unconscious. After Zhang administered acupuncture, my father did regain consciousness briefly. But both he and the palace officials knew this was merely a fleeting revival before death. The purpose of summoning him was only to allow the Emperor to wake momentarily, so that final arrangements could be made."

Huang Zixiao murmured, "Yet, why did this hard-won moment of clarity ultimately result in the late Emperor bestowing a painting upon Zhang Weiyi?"

Both Li Shubai and Li Run naturally harbored the same doubt. At that time, the late Emperor was on his deathbed. What he should have done was certainly not to gift a painting to a common physician, but to arrange the affairs of the court after his passing.

"That is precisely what is puzzling. And Zhang Weiyi himself was utterly bewildered. Because after the late Emperor regained consciousness, he immediately withdrew, as a common physician had no place listening to court affairs." Li Shubai frowned slightly. "The palace records also state this: the late Emperor awoke, Zhang Weiyi withdrew. Before he reached the palace gates, someone caught up with him, saying the Emperor was grateful for the physician's skill and had decreed to bestow upon him a painting in the imperial hand. Overjoyed, Zhang immediately kowtowed toward the Zichen Hall and accepted the rolled-up painting. As he walked away, he unrolled it for a glance and was instantly struck with shock and disbelief."

Huang Zixiao's gaze followed their hushed words, settling on the painting. That such a nonsensical scribble could be the final brushwork of the late Emperor a decade ago was truly unexpected. No doubt Zhang Weiyi had found it hard to believe when he first laid eyes on it.

And now, ten years later, three cases identical to the scribble had unfolded—an occurrence so bizarre it defied comprehension.

After bidding farewell to Prince E, Li Run, they set off on their return journey under the cover of deep night.

"Will you return to the residence first, or go to the Dali Temple?"

Without hesitation, Huang Zixiao replied, "Return to the residence, then bring some food to the Dali Temple. Zhou Ziqin and Zhang Xingying are still there."

He offered no objection, only saying, "After you return, I'll be waiting for you at the Pillow Stream Pavilion."

Huang Zixiao didn't pause to eat. She picked up a food box from the kitchen and boarded the prince's carriage, heading straight for the Dali Temple.

The Deputy Chief of the Dali Temple, Cui Chunzhan, had already rushed to the princess's residence due to the incident. The moment Huang Zixiao heard this news, she could almost picture his usual expression, as if suffering from a toothache.

The Dali Temple Secretary, Fan Yang, was on duty. When he saw Huang Zixiao arrive, he greeted her with great courtesy, though his face remained ashen. "Eunuch Yang, what are we to do about this? A princess—and not just any princess, but the Tongchang Princess, His Majesty's most beloved daughter—was actually killed in the streets!"

Huang Zixiao sighed. "For now, we can only await His Majesty's decree."

Fan Yang stomped his foot in despair, utterly indifferent to other official matters. He even waved her in without concern when she mentioned bringing the food box to Lü Dicui. "Ziqin and that Zhang Xingying are inside as well. Eunuch Yang, please go right ahead."The sky had darkened, and only a single oil lamp flickered in a wall niche, casting a dim glow. When Huang Zixiang stood at the door, she saw Dicui and Zhang Xingying huddled close together, their figures faintly illuminated by the small, dancing flame. They remained motionless, staring blankly at the flickering light.

Zhou Ziqin was squatting by the entrance. Spotting her arrival, he leaped up excitedly. "Chonggu, you're here? Ah... wonderful, wonderful! And you brought food—I'm starving!"

He took the food box from Huang Zixiang's hands and hurried inside, saying, "Brother Zhang, A-Di, never mind everything else—food comes first. Come on, let's eat something!"

Zhou Ziqin busied himself setting out bowls and dishes, placing what he considered the two best dishes in front of Dicui and Huang Zixiang first, then handing out chopsticks to everyone.

The Kui Manor's cook had always been fond of Huang Zixiang, sending her the most expertly prepared dishes. Unfortunately, none of the four had much appetite.

Huang Zixiang looked at Dicui and spoke as gently as possible. "Miss Lü, I believe Ziqin has already mentioned it to you. We’ve come again because there are a few small matters we must ask you about."