Chapter 69: Chopped Chili Fish Head (Part 20)
Jing Yi smiled bitterly and nodded.
This Consort Hui was the biological mother of Prince Hui, Xiao Zhaoye—the same Consort Hui who had ruined half of Hua Mei's life over a similar appearance.
Leng Yue had some recollection of this. Eight years ago, during the harsh winter of the twelfth lunar month, several women in the palace, including Consort Hui, had ignited a rather large-scale covert struggle due to their fierce protectiveness of their children. This secret conflict had thrown many court officials, who usually appeared dignified and proper, into chaos for quite some time. It ultimately ended with one of the women dead, one injured, and one ill.
At that time, Leng Yue was not yet ten years old. She had heard these stories while idly chatting with others in the Liangzhou military camp. However, the imperial palace was, after all, the imperial palace—its walls were far thicker than those of ordinary households. Matters within the palace always had to be embellished and exaggerated before they could spread beyond its confines. By the time they reached the distant Liangzhou military camp, after layers of additions, even something sweetened could turn sour.
So, Leng Yue wasn't actually clear about the exact details of what had happened. She only remembered that the one who fell ill was Consort Hui, Prince Hui's mother. She had contracted tuberculosis after falling into a lake, barely surviving. After that, she was bedridden with illness every time the seasons changed, always appearing weak and sickly.
The one who was injured was Consort Jin, the mother of Prince Jing. Because she had been standing by the lake when Consort Hui fell in and remained indifferent, the current emperor had slapped her several times harshly. If not for her status as a princess of Goryeo, she would likely have spent the rest of her life confined to the cold palace, raising chickens and growing vegetables.
The one who died was Consort Yao, the mother of the eldest prince, Prince Xi. It was said that she had ordered her son to push Consort Hui into the lake—at least, that was the version that reached Liangzhou. Rumor had it that the current emperor, out of consideration for their shared bond as husband and wife, had initially intended to let her stay in the cold palace for a while to settle the matter. However, she hanged herself from a beam the night before she was to move there.
In any case, whether it was the one who fell ill, the one who was injured, or the one who died, none of them seemed to have the slightest connection to Zhang Laowu, the skilled porcelain craftsman.
Jing Yi fell silent at this point, resting his chin on Leng Yue's knee, clearly waiting for her to grasp the implication on her own.
Obviously, Leng Yue was in no mood for riddles.
After recovering from her shock, she looked down somewhat irritably at the hairless head resting on her knee. "There were countless women who fell ill in the capital eight years ago. Zhang Laowu came back to see his wife, but the one you're talking about is the emperor's wife. They're not even remotely related—why would you think of this?"
"No need for remote connections—it's close enough to reach out and touch... If I told you that the wife Zhang Laowu mentioned to Wang Tuo was actually the emperor's wife, would you believe me?"
Without hesitation, Leng Yue replied, "Nonsense."
Selecting a wife for the imperial family was no trivial matter. Even if other criteria could be lenient, a clean background and purity were absolute necessities.Leng Yue was, after all, a public servant under the Prince An's estate and seldom engaged in gossip about the imperial family in daily life. But now, in this secluded and tranquil place, with only Jing Yi listening to her, she spoke without beating around the bush, "Do you think if the Emperor were to pick a married woman from a commoner's family to be his consort, would those officials in the court—who have a handful of daughters they desperately want to send into the palace but can't—just sit back and watch idly?"
Jing Yi let out a weak sigh, "I also think it's quite absurd... but Zhang Lao Wu probably meant it that way. If you ask those in the capital who are fond of porcelain, you'll find out that back when Zhang Lao Wu was at the peak of his fame, he was quite involved with a certain beauty. Many of the pieces he produced at that time were related to this beauty. However, to this day, no one has ever truly figured out who this beauty was. All that's known is that Zhang Lao Wu remained a bachelor until he faded from the capital. So, the wife he mentioned is very likely this beauty he always wanted to marry but somehow never did. This woman wasn't just any beauty; she must have been one of great renown. So..."
Jing Yi sighed again and trailed off once more.
This time, Leng Yue grasped a bit of what Jing Yi meant. Though there were countless beauties in the capital, the number of those whose illness eight years ago could spread news all the way to Goryeo was exceedingly few.
Consort Hui entered the palace in the third year of Chongyou's reign. In other words, as soon as Consort Hui entered the palace, Zhang Lao Wu quietly faded from the capital and went to Goryeo. Then, eight years ago, when Consort Hui fell seriously ill during that fight to protect her child, Zhang Lao Wu quietly returned to the capital, claiming his wife was critically ill.
Since joining the Ministry of Justice, Leng Yue had come to understand one thing: when it came to matters brought before the authorities, the word "coincidence" was like the "fish" in "fish-fragrant shredded pork"—even if it existed, it was nothing more than a vague semblance of flavor. As for what this "dish" truly was, it was the tangible, concrete evidence that ultimately mattered.
Leng Yue was slightly frowning, carefully pondering the relationship between Consort Hui and Zhang Lao Wu—two people who seemed entirely unrelated yet reeked of a strong scent of coincidence—when she noticed Jing Yi rubbing his chin against her knee. He lifted his eyelids and grinned delightedly, "I think my lack of ambition must be the will of Heaven."
The sudden shift in Jing Yi's tone caught Leng Yue off guard, and she paused for a moment, "Huh?"
"Didn't the ancients say? When Heaven is about to place a great responsibility on a person, it must first torment them a bit."
Leng Yue vaguely recalled that this saying did indeed come from an ancient sage, though the original phrasing was a bit longer than what Jing Yi had said. Still, the general meaning was the same, so she nodded, "And then?"
"And then..." Jing Yi nudged his chin forward again, all the way to her thigh, tilting his smooth-shaven head back with a roguish smile, "Take Zhang Lao Wu, for example. Heaven wanted him to become the Porcelain King, so it made sure he couldn't marry the woman he desired. As for me, Heaven never expected me to accomplish anything serious, so it let me marry the woman I wanted most..."Logically speaking, with such a shaved head, dressed in these robes, and wearing such a smile while saying these words, Jing Yi should have given off the impression of a disgrace to Buddhism. Yet he didn’t—not only did he not, but he managed to infuse these words with an incredibly devout aura, much like those genuine young monks who, morning and evening, finger their prayer beads while pledging loyalty to the Buddha.
Leng Yue, both annoyed and amused, lifted her leg and nudged Jing Yi’s chin away. Suddenly, her phoenix eyes lit up, and she tapped him on his smooth-shaven head. "I almost got tangled up in your nonsense... If Zhang Lao Wu never married, then was his grandson Zhang Chong plucked from a tree or dug out of the ground?"
Jing Yi rubbed the spot on his head where Leng Yue had tapped, blinked his innocent fox-like eyes, and pouted. "At his age, having a grandfather might be difficult, but having a grandson? That’s not so hard... There’s a twenty percent chance he left behind some romantic debts on his way to Goryeo, and those debts, accumulating interest, eventually produced a grandson."
Leng Yue rolled her eyes in exasperation. Jing Yi continued, "And there’s an eighty percent chance he picked up someone else’s unwanted grandson after returning from Goryeo."
That possibility wasn’t entirely far-fetched.
"Evidence?"
Jing Yi pointed backward over his own shoulder, lowering his voice so much that even Leng Yue, who was right beside him, had to lean in slightly to hear.
"Three years ago, that group of people... they were from the palace."
That group referred to the ones who, three years prior, had stolen the silver bracelet from Jing Yi, then cornered Zhang Lao Wu in a secluded alley and beat him severely, and finally slashed Jing Yi across the back.
Leng Yue was utterly stunned.
Jing Yi had never mentioned that they were from the palace.
Jing Yi had been a frequent visitor to the palace since childhood. He might not know everyone who lived there, but it was normal for him to recognize at a glance those who came from the palace. What was abnormal was that there could be a group from the palace who not only targeted Jing Yi but also needed to attack Zhang Lao Wu...
Even more abnormal was that those in the palace deeply understood the principle of "weeds will sprout again in the spring breeze; to eliminate them, you must uproot them entirely." If they were to act, they would surely dig out the roots in one sweep. How could they allow Zhang Lao Wu to live under their noses for another three years? And how could they still permit Jing Yi to swagger in and out of the palace grounds as he pleased?
Leng Yue also lowered her voice to a near-whisper. "Those palace people... which palace were they from?"
"From Consort Hui’s palace."
As luck would have it, it was around that time three years ago that Consort Hui’s health had taken a sudden and drastic turn for the worse. Despite trying every miraculous medicine available, she struggled on her sickbed for less than half a year before passing away.
Leng Yue couldn’t help but furrow her brow tightly.
One coincidence after another—even without any tangible evidence, Leng Yue couldn’t help but believe that there was indeed something between Zhang Lao Wu and Consort Hui.
But...
"What does this have to do with whether Zhang Lao Wu’s grandson is his own flesh and blood?"
"Nothing."
That reply didn’t come from Jing Yi.
The voice came from behind the wooden screen in the corner of the room—light, steady, much like the person who emerged from behind it, composed as if he had been invited in from the very beginning."Amitabha..." Shenxiu stood at a measured distance, wearing that seemingly permanent compassionate smile on his face, calmly observing Leng Yue who had been startled into quickly gripping her sword and rising, as well as Jing Yi who hadn't risen in time and had his chin sharply struck by Leng Yue's knee. He pressed his palms together unhurriedly and said, "Patron Wang Tuo suddenly decided to cancel the Buddhist ritual and has entered the palace to bid farewell to His Majesty. Presumably, the temple gates will reopen within an hour at most. Those who should come and those who shouldn't will all enter. Time is short, and my junior brother tends to be long-winded, so allow this humble monk to briefly explain what's important to Patron Leng."
The sword in Leng Yue's hand remained sheathed, but her right hand didn't leave the hilt. With a slight lift of her chin and minimal adjustment, she naturally shifted into an offensive-defensive stance.
She had known Shenxiu possessed profound martial arts, but hadn't realized they were so profound that he could be under the same roof without her sensing it. If they were to truly fight, she'd probably be chanting Amitabha for real.
"When did you come in?"
Shenxiu politely recited a Buddhist invocation, "Just now." Noticing Leng Yue's grip on the sword hilt tighten further, Shenxiu smiled leisurely and glanced around the room. "This humble monk has lived in this monastic cell since childhood and is very familiar with it, so I naturally come and go with ease."
Though Shenxiu spoke lightly, Leng Yue couldn't take his words lightly at all.
Though her martial arts couldn't be considered profound, having spent much time in military camps had made vigilance a habit. Regardless of the building, those who could come and go without a trace right before her eyes numbered fewer than five among all of An Wang's followers.
For such a person to appear like this meant he wanted to briefly tell her something important.
Leng Yue narrowed her phoenix eyes slightly, her voice lowering, "What do you want to tell me?"
Shenxiu had just begun reciting "Ami—" when Jing Yi cut him off.
"He wants to say he convinced Zhang Lao Wu to die..."
Jing Yi held his still throbbing chin with both hands, looking innocently at Shenxiu whose smile had slightly stiffened, "Right, senior brother?"
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