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Chapter Text

Jia-zhanggui and the workers have all been restrained, kneeling in the snow-white salt scattered on the floor of their storeroom. Zhujun, Wen Ji and he are going through the motions of their customary intimidation act when their master sways on his chair, just a bit.

Zhujun’s gaze shifts away from Jia-zhanggui and latches onto Wen Ji, then skips to Lu Ji himself. It feels, somehow, searing. Zhujun’s lips thin and pale as he presses them together.

Lu Ji feels it when Wen Ji draws breath and opens his mouth, so he shoots his partner a sharp look that stops him from asking what’s wrong. He’s concerned, too, but now is not the time to question their master, with so many prisoners watching.

Zhujun’s head turns slightly to the side, and in the very next moment a throwing knife whistles through the air towards Jia-zhanggui. A quick flick of his wrist, and their master easily blocks it with his fan. The knife clatters to the ground, barely louder than the pattering of the rain outside.

Zhujun purses his lips further, and contemplates the fan in his hands for a few long seconds. Then, to Lu Ji’s utter shock, he trails a finger lightly against the sharpened edge, drawing blood. Wen Ji makes an aborted movement towards their master, who is still silently staring at the blood welling up on his fingertip.

There’s an unfamiliar fear winding its way through Lu Ji’s veins, slow and creeping. He finds himself stepping forward. “Zhujun,” he tries, his heartbeat echoing loudly in his ears, “Should I pursue?”

He succeeds; his master’s attention snaps straight to him. Zhujun blinks once. Twice. “No,” he finally says. “There’s no need.”

Under other circumstances, Lu Ji would be trying to figure out why his master does not wish to trace this case’s instigators through the assassin, the way they usually do. As it is, he’s just glad his master’s attention seems to be situated back in the present.

Zhujun takes a piece of gauze out from between his robes and wraps his finger with slow, deliberate movements. As he does so, his presence once again consolidates and sharpens, Su-guogong’s gravitas settling around his shoulders like a cloak. Lu Ji hears Wen Ji breathe a soft sigh of relief.

Their master raises his eyes to look at the kneeling man. “Jia-zhanggui,” Zhujun tilts his head towards the blade on the ground, “You’ve seen it yourself, someone wishes for you to stop speaking forever. Your employers want you dead; I want you alive. What do you think?”

The man sputters like he’s only just started contemplating the implications of a knife flying towards him at this juncture. What a fool. He breaks almost immediately after, and spills the details of his next meeting with their supplier under Zhujun’s pressing.

His master’s voice has resumed its usual, threatening drawl. But Lu Ji can see the cracks in the facade – Zhujun’s eyes keep shifting minutely, moving between the doors and where he and Wen Ji are standing. Lu Ji tenses, wondering if their master has sensed other attackers outside, but Zhujun just gestures for him to stand down.

With all the information extracted, Zhujun tells the other men to transport the prisoners to the cells. The storeroom empties, leaving only the three of them.

A few large steps takes Zhujun right to his and Wen Ji’s side. Their master’s hands shoot out to grab each of their arms – too tight, just shy of painful.

“Zhujun?” Wen Ji is finally able to ask aloud, worry written clear on his face.

“It’s nothing,” their master just says. His claim is belied by how his eyes are stuck on the two of them, almost as if he’s trying to commit their appearance to memory. Lu Ji’s fear is making itself known again, a cold stone in his chest.

“Zhujun, what’s wrong? Did we miss something?” Wen Ji pushes insistently, as he always does. Lu Ji cannot summon any desire to stop him this time, though. He has no idea why his master is acting so out of sorts, especially in front of others. Zhujun has always been steady, unshakeable and unwavering, even in burning anger or sea-deep grief.

With a final, spasming clench, Zhujun releases their arms and takes one step back. “Wen Ji, go back and gather every agent we can currently spare. I’ll be giving everyone new tasks when I return. Also, go politely wake up and invite Yan-daifu to the manor, and let him know there may be a patient he needs to be discreet about. If he refuses, tell him this can pay off the debt he owes me entirely. And have the kitchen prepare some ginger soup.”

Wen Ji’s brows shoot up in alarm. “What patient? Your finger doesn’t need Yan-daifu,” he blurts out.

Zhujun just glares at him. “Go.”

Wen Ji pouts, and leaves obediently. There is a distinct lack of him being told to receive corporal punishment. Lu Ji’s unease ratchets up a notch.

Before he can decide whether he should push for answers, Zhujun beckons for him to follow, and walks briskly out of the storeroom.

They get on their horses, and are soon galloping even further away from the city. Zhujun brings them all the way to Qingcheng Mountain, and Lu Ji desperately swallows all his questions about why they’re here way before the handover time Jia-zhanggui mentioned. There’s nothing for them to find right now.

Nothing is making sense tonight.

Zhujun seems to know exactly what he’s doing, though. He doesn’t take them to Helin Temple, but rather to the woods surrounding it, and unerringly leads Lu Ji straight to a sprawling pear tree. As far as Lu Ji is aware, his master shouldn’t be so familiar with this place.

There’s a large patch of soil in front of the tree that looks freshly overturned, glistening darkly under the pouring rain.

Zhujun unmounts and rushes over, dropping his umbrella. Lu Ji hurries to follow, holding his own umbrella over them both as his master drops to his knees and starts digging with his bare hands.

Lu Ji feels almost frozen with… he doesn’t even know. There’s a sort of desperation in the stiffness of his master’s movements, a sort of panic that Lu Ji has never seen before. He has no clue what his master is digging for; he doesn’t know if he should be trying to coax him into stopping.

“Help me,” Zhujun snaps without looking at him.

So Lu Ji kneels and starts digging as well, guiltily grateful for the clear order.

It takes at least two ke for them to find something pale under all the dark soil. Zhujun digs faster, revealing a small hand and an arm, and before Lu Ji even has time to realise that they’ve found a corpse, his master is scrabbling at where the body’s face should be.

A bit more digging reveals a woman’s face, entirely streaked with wet dirt. She seems vaguely familiar – Lu Ji may not be as good with remembering faces as Wen Ji is, but he’s still decent.

Zhujun hastily swipes more dirt away from the woman’s nose and mouth, and that’s when she gasps loudly, her eyes flying open. Lu Ji stills in surprise, then has to dodge back when her already freed arm flails violently in his direction.

His master catches her arm, clasping her hand in his and bringing it to his chest. “Shh, it’s alright. It’s alright.” Zhujun is gripping her hand so hard that Lu Ji can see the tendons standing out against the back of his hand.

At least it serves to centre the woman’s attention. She stops struggling, eyes locked on Zhujun’s face.

Zhujun worms his other arm into the soil, around where the woman’s shoulders should be. The first heave frees her upper body, large clumps of wet soil sliding off her torso. Zhujun stands on the second heave, hauling her lower body out as well.

He sets her feet on the ground, but the woman’s legs crumple beneath her. Before she can fall, Zhujun tugs her firmly against him, crouching gradually so their descent is controlled.

The woman lands on his master’s lap, still leaning against his chest. His master takes one of their umbrellas from the raised edges of the hole they’ve dug, and props it up against his body. It shields the woman entirely, leaving one of Zhujun’s shoulders out in the rain.

Without a word, Zhujun shrugs his cloak off and drapes it around the woman, the motion somehow smooth and practised. He draws the front of the cloak around her tightly, then wraps an arm around her shoulders.

“You… Xiao Heng?” The woman looks up at Zhujun and asks quietly, almost unsure.

Confusingly, his master relaxes at the overfamiliar form of address. “It’s me, A-Li.” Zhujun says softly, and smiles. A genuine smile, not the ones he wears to handle other people with.

Her body also loses some of its tension, at that. His master wipes more dirt from the woman’s forehead with his sleeve – there’s a sluggishly bleeding wound near her hairline that Zhujun carefully dabs at – and her face snaps into place in Lu Ji’s head. She’s the latest zhuangyuan’s wife, Shen-furen. Huaixiang’s most skilled maiden, Wen Ji said.

Zhujun’s only seen her once. They haven’t even spoken. Why are she and Zhujun acting without a single thought for propriety, like they know each other intimately?

When Zhujun moves his hand away from her face, she frowns and grabs his wrist, dragging it directly in front of her eyes. His master just lets her do it.

“What’s this?” She must mean the gauze on Zhujun’s finger; it’s now completely dark with both mud and blood.

“I thought this was a dream,” his master says. Lu Ji’s a little confused about how this answers her question.

“You– We…” She blinks hard, several times, and falls silent. It turns into a full-body shiver, and she curls further into his master’s chest.

“Let’s go home first,” Zhujun murmurs, hooking his arms around her back and under her knees, lifting her like she weighs nothing. “We can figure the rest out later.”

Lu Ji hurries in front to hold the abandoned umbrella over them as Zhujun leaps out of the hole; Shen-furen is obviously weakened, and somehow Lu Ji doubts his master will be happy if she has to hold an umbrella in this state.

She startles when she finally notices his presence – her eyes widen momentarily, and her face breaks into a smile.

“Lu Ji,” she greets, something he fails to interpret in her voice.

He nods back, then shoots an uncertain glance at his master. How does Shen-furen know his name?

Zhujun just ignores him. He jogs to their horses and lifts Shen-furen onto his saddle, then leaps up behind her and takes the umbrella Lu Ji holds out for him. A gentle press of his heels has his horse moving, and once again Lu Ji scrambles to follow.

Tonight has been very, very strange.

Chapter Text

Zhao Ye lifts an eyebrow as Xiao Heng swans into his study. “Isn’t it your day of rest?”

“It is,” Xiao Heng simply answers without further explanation, the reprobate. Xiao Heng leans lazily against the table, facing away from him, and Zhao Ye sighs but moves to join him. His body was growing stiff from sitting in that wretched chair for too long, anyway.

They just breathe for a moment. Zhao Ye feels himself relaxing, the way he always does when it’s just him and Xiao Heng.

Finally, Xiao Heng speaks. “I’ve found us a turning point. We’re in the end game now.” Zhao Ye looks over sharply. There’s that harsh glint in Xiao Heng’s eye that comes out whenever Cheng-wang is brought up.

“Oh?” Zhao Ye prompts. They’ve been looking for a way to set events in motion for years, this almost sounds too good to be true.

“They’ve grown too greedy. I now have a solid trail for the salt trade. They’ve also moved against Huaixiang’s magistrate to secretly reopen the gold mines there; Xue Huaiyuan’s supposed corruption should be filed with the Ministry of Justice in the next week or so.”

Zhao Ye frowns. The new information about the salt trade is not a surprise, but as far as he knows, Xiao Heng doesn’t have enough agents to monitor the counties long-term. “How did you come across this information?”

“Xue Huaiyuan’s daughter is Xue Fangfei,” Xiao Heng says, as if that should make any sense to him–

Wait. He’s heard that name recently.

“Shen-xueshi’s wife?” Zhao Ye asks. Su-neiguan mentioned to him earlier that Shen Yurong is holding his furen’s funeral today, and also informed him about the scandal surrounding her death.

Xiao Heng nods. Interestingly, the man has lost some of his nonchalance. “She’s falsely accused. Wanning and the Shens are behind her death. Wanning is also transporting Xue Zhao, Xue Fangfei’s younger brother, to the princess manor. As I said, they’ve moved against the Xues.”

He’s feeling quite perplexed. Since when has Wanning allied with the Shens, and to what purpose? Shen Yurong does not have much on his hands to bargain with, politically speaking. And it’s not plausible that Xiao Heng managed to uncover so many details about Huaixiang’s gold mine simply through investigating Shen-furen’s scandal; it’s only been a few days, at most. There are too many threads here that Xiao Heng is obviously trying to distract him from asking about, and honestly, he’s not even sure where he would start.

Oh, well. He’s always allowed Xiao Heng his secrets. “What are you planning to do, then?” Zhao Ye just asks.

“Arrest a third of your court,” Xiao Heng smiles wryly. “Either for the salt trade, or the gold mine, or both. By the time I make my move, I’ll have evidence tracing everything back to Li Zhongnan. I’m also planning to arrest Wanning for abducting and privately imprisoning Xue Zhao; she’ll be defanged and declawed by the end of this.”

“Didn’t you just say she’s still just transporting him?”

“Yes, and?” Xiao Heng just looks at him, eyes innocently wide.

Zhao Ye valiantly reins in the urge to throw his hands in the air. “She can claim ignorance of the man being transported, if you intercept them. And once he’s secreted away in her manor, I can’t allow you to enter and search the place without strong evidence implicating her.”

Xiao Heng hums. “I’ll need a witness who can back my word that Xue Zhao’s been taken into the manor, then.”

Zhao Ye considers it. That would work, especially if it’s someone that the court cannot easily doubt. “Take Cai Quan and let him join your men’s surveillance on the Princess; tell him he’s to take sick leave for this task. The man’s so infamously stubborn about justice that anyone who questions his word will just look foolish.” While extremely competent, this official from the Ministry of Justice has been stuck in the lower rungs of the ministry for the past years, not only because of his commoner background, but also due to his inflexibility and zero tolerance for any sort of unfairness.

Zhao Ye would question how Xiao Heng is so certain that Wanning will do something as clearly detrimental to herself as privately imprisoning a man, but Xiao Heng’s never been wrong. He only hopes what Cai Quan sees will be enough to convince him of the illegality of the affair.

“Sounds good,” Xiao Heng says. “Do you think I can get him to take on part of the gold mine investigation after I reveal it?”

“Yes, especially since I assume the faked corruption case that you mentioned earlier will implicate someone high up in the Ministry of Justice.”

“The assistant minister of justice, yes.” Xiao Heng sounds annoyingly full of himself. Not that it’s ever undeserved, Zhao Ye grouses.

Sighing, Zhao Ye gathers his thoughts. “Alright. After this, Li Zhongnan’s faction will be entirely decimated, and Wanning will lose all her political power. This will cut off Cheng-wang’s access to court, as well as his illegal income. But you haven’t mentioned how to neutralise him. He might do something drastic, with how much all this is going to back him into a corner.”

“You’re right, he’ll look for both money and weaponry through other avenues, with the goal of starting his coup soon. After we’re done with Li Zhongnan, he will only have men directly connected to him to carry out these orders – well, he’ll still have his allies within the imperial guards, but they can’t make any significant plays for money, only weaponry.”

His brother has what within what? And why is this the first time Zhao Ye’s hearing about it?

Xiao Heng carries on, purposefully ignoring Zhao Ye glaring at him. “When Cheng-wang’s subordinates attempt to secure a new source of income, I’ll be able to trace it directly back to him, and pile on his other crimes at the same time. We’ll get him, for sure.”

“Xiao Heng. How exactly did you come by all this information?” Zhao Ye questions again, letting his displeasure show on his face.

“Do not underestimate my intelligence gathering network, Your Majesty,” Xiao Heng just smiles.

Zhao Ye notes the precise wording, and knows that Xiao Heng will not answer his question, at least not today.

He lets the air between them hang, growing heavy, until Xiao Heng gives in and turns to face him fully.

“Xiao Heng,” Zhao Ye starts, voice low. “I understand your desire for revenge, and that you’ve already waited for too long. But I want this to be done right, not with fabricated evidence and witnesses who are tortured into giving the answers we need. There cannot be any possibility of my brother successfully crying foul–”

“Your Majesty,” Xiao Heng interjects. His expression is finally bare of all the indifference he wears to fool the court. “All the information I am acting on is true, even if I cannot prove it to the court’s satisfaction right now. And all the evidence I have collected and will be collecting are also real; I know who holds them and where they are, I only need to retrieve them at the most opportune moment.”

Xiao Heng holds his hand out to Zhao Ye, the stance rare and yet familiar to his bones.

“You’ve trusted me for eight years already,” Xiao Heng continues, looking straight into his eyes. “I know I’m asking you to take another leap of faith, but trust me on this too. Give me six months, and I’ll have Cheng-wang safely behind bars and executed with minimal bloodshed and unrest. You know I want the same things for Da Yan that you do. I will not jeopardise the people of our country for anything.”

Zhao Ye closes his eyes for a long moment, and sighs again.

He lifts his arm and clasps Xiao Heng’s palm in his. “Of course I trust you,” he says plainly. Of course he does, how could he not?

Xiao Heng returns the gesture, as does he, until all four of their hands are enveloping each other’s.

Zhao Ye squeezes gently, and lets go. “Alright, what do you need me to do?”

The corner of Xiao Heng’s lips tilts up again almost helplessly, to Zhao Ye’s confusion. He thinks it might be fondness, even if Xiao Heng has never let his emotions run amok on his face like this.

“I’ll give you a list of people who will be arrested; you’ll have to figure out how to replace them in a way that offends the least number of people’s sensibilities,” Xiao Heng replies. “When the time comes, support the arrests as detachedly as you can, and feign obliviousness when necessary. I’ve got it all handled, don’t you worry.”

And the man’s dreadful arrogance is back. It must have been a trick of the eye; Xiao Heng’s smile is unmistakably one of wickedness, not fondness. Zhao Ye scowls at him, and shoos him away.

Xiao Heng nods an insouciant goodbye, and sweeps towards the doors. “And don’t even think about moving my furen!” he calls over his shoulder.

Huh?

Xiao Heng only raises his voice like that when he wants the servants to spread information to the right ears. Usually he explains what effect he’s trying to achieve beforehand, though.

“What furen?!” Zhao Ye shouts back, but by then, Xiao Heng has already breezed out of his study.

Chapter Text

It’s the middle of the night, nearly early morning, and there is a soft but incessant knocking on her door. Tong’er has always slept deeper than she does, and is still snoring gently, so Jiang Li tiptoes over and cracks the door open slightly.

There is a woman standing outside, dressed in the garb and headscarf of the maiden’s hall. Night has cast the woman’s face in hazy shadows, only big eyes gleaming back at Jiang Li. Jiang Li has never seen her before. For a moment, she wonders if this is the ghost that is said to haunt their hall.

“Jiang-er-niangzi,” the woman greets as she dips into a light curtsy, voice soft and genteel. She doesn’t introduce herself in return, though, as courtesy would demand. “I wished to speak with you, and found this to be the best opportunity. May I come in?”

Jiang Li debates it for a moment. She cannot be sure that this is not another of the hall master’s “tests”, or even a plot from her stepmother to implicate her in some other nebulous wrongdoing. But there is a storm that has been brewing within her for the past few years, and it is clamouring for escape from this monotonous agony, for something to change.

The woman just waits, silent and patient. Her gaze is fixed on Jiang Li, and there is something oddly… hesitant in the way she holds herself.

It is that which convinces Jiang Li to listen to her gut. Yes, her gut has failed her in the past, but she was just a child, then. And perhaps she is still a fool for thinking in such simple terms, but surely anyone attempting to gain her trust in order to deceive her would do all they can to present themselves as trustworthy – not show up in the dark of the night, nameless.

Jiang Li opens the door.

The woman walks in quickly, and just like when they need to sneak around, Jiang Li shuts the door slowly, still producing a muted creak. When she makes her way back inside, she finds the woman standing much further in than where the table is, observing Tong’er. Tong’er is still asleep; she snuffles a little and turns onto her side, displacing her blanket.

The woman reaches a hand towards Tong’er, and Jiang Li only has a split second to think please no, not Tong’er, before she realises the woman is merely tucking Tong’er back in, movements gentle.

Jiang Li’s heart is beating rabbit-fast in her chest, and the abrupt wave of terror has left her weak in the knees. “Please, sit,” she says forcefully, trying to keep the waver out of her voice.

The woman heeds her, thankfully, and moves away from Tong’er. Jiang Li makes to prepare some tea for her guest, but the woman rests a hand on hers – milk-soft apart from her fingertips; she must come from a rich, educated family – and slants a meaningful glance at the doors.

Jiang Li agrees with keeping as quiet as possible, though for different reasons than the lady, who only wishes to avoid detection. So she sits at the rickety table, and the woman follows suit.

There’s no use beating around the bush with pleasantries, and Jiang Li is more than a little concerned about how the other woman acted around Tong’er. “You know my name, do you know hers?” she asks outright, gesturing towards the beds.

“Yes,” the lady replies. “She’s your handmaid, Tong’er.” There’s something about the way her mouth shapes Tong’er’s name.

Jiang Li frowns. Before she can ask further, the woman speaks again.

“What are you willing to do, to bring yourself and Tong’er home?” There’s a knowing glint in her eye.

Her words ring louder than they should in Jiang Li’s ears. Since the ten-year mark of her being sent here passed by without even a note from her family, the idea of bending, of admitting to the crime she never committed, has drifted through her mind with increasing frequency. She’s truly had enough of the beatings, the humiliation, the way no one apart from Tong’er speaks to her unless it’s with harsh words. Adding to all that is the constant guilt she carries for dragging Tong’er into this hell with her.

They’re both innocent, Tong’er more so than herself. What are they suffering for?

Jiang Li’s eyes catch on the lady, all shades of washed-out greys in the dark, except for her gleaming eyes. What stake does she have in this matter?

“Why do you ask?” Jiang Li probes.

The lady dips her head, the light reflecting off her eyes disappearing. “I wish to help you and Tong’er return home.”

Jiang Li scoffs inwardly. An answer that isn’t truly an answer. “Why?” she presses again.

“Is the fact that the maiden’s hall treats its wards abhorrently not enough to convince you of my desire to help?”

Alright. Consider her curiosity genuinely piqued. Is this lady a former ward of the maiden’s hall? That would explain the clothes and her knowledge of the hall’s going-ons. But no, that idea doesn’t fit; her hands would not have stayed smooth.

“If your motivation is solely the hall’s treatment of us all, I presume you are going to head over to the next room, and the next, after you’re done talking with me?” Jiang Li raises an eyebrow.

The woman smiles, her teeth showing as a thin sliver of white. “You’re right, I’m only here for you and Tong’er, even though we intend for the maiden’s hall to cease operations by the end of this,” she says. “What if I tell you that the maiden’s hall is involved in a case of illegal salt trading, and your identity as the chief secretary’s daughter will be a useful way for Su-guogong to keep attention on it in court?”

Who is Su-guogong, and how is this lady related to him? What kind of political waters will Jiang Li be stepping into if she accepts further association with this woman?

Additionally, mercenary intentions are easier to accept as the truth, but Jiang Li’s gut is insistently bringing up the image of the woman tucking Tong’er in.

Jiang Li takes a leap and says, “You care about Tong’er too much for politics to be the main reason you want to help us.”

The lady stills, her outline turning sharp with her lack of movement. The only sound left in the room is their breathing, rasping through the silence. In, and out. In, and out.

The tension breaks suddenly, with an unexpected snore from Tong’er. The woman huffs out a light laugh, and relaxes against the table.

“You’re right again,” she says. She reaches up to take off her headscarf, revealing a dark line on her forehead; it takes a moment for Jiang Li to realise it is a newly scabbed over wound. She also draws her sleeves up, uncovering a dark ring of bruises and still-healing abrasions around her right wrist; her left wrist is wrapped, and Jiang Li can only assume it is worse off than the other. A creeping sense of horror shudders through Jiang Li’s body. What has befallen this lady?

“My name is Xue Fangfei,” the woman finally says. Xue Fangfei, Jiang Li sounds out in her own mind. “Less than a week ago, my husband’s mother and sister drugged me, put a naked man in my bed, and claimed that I committed adultery. My husband freed me from the shackles they put me in; as I had always believed that he truly loved and trusted me, I assumed he doubted his family, and was taking me somewhere safe. Instead, he knocked me unconscious and buried me alive, right beneath the large pear tree not far from this hall.”

Jiang Li feels her own eyes widening through the tale, her hand drifting up to cover her mouth.

Xue Fangfei isn’t done, though. “Before he buried me, he revealed that this was all a plot devised by himself and his family, to get rid of me so that he could marry the Princess, who he has been having relations with.” The light in her eyes flickers. “Truly, an excellent production of guilty people accusing others of their crimes.”

The worst thing about this whole affair is that Jiang Li believes her, without question – the desperate pain and resentment in her voice echoes Jiang Li’s own perfectly. She reaches out blindly, and clasps Xue Fangfei’s hand in hers.

“I was saved by Su-guogong,” Xue Fangfei continues, and even though Jiang Li can see that she’s perfectly safe right now, she still breathes a sigh of relief. “I have decided not to tell anyone of my survival yet, and have been staying at the guogong manor for the past few days.

“You asked me why I wish to help you. Partly because I owe Su-guogong my life, and want to aid him in his endeavours. But more than that, I know what it feels like to be wrongfully accused of a crime you never committed. I know the nausea that comes when everyone you should be able to lean on chooses not to believe you. I know the burning need for an opportunity to try again, to take revenge on those who have wronged you, and to make amends to those you have wronged.”

Jiang Li’s hands jerk against the other woman’s. “What do you know?” she whispers into the dark. Xue Fangfei speaks as if… as if she believes–

“I know your stepmother intentionally threw herself down the stairs, and claimed that you pushed her. I know that this is not the only wrong she has committed against you and your family.”

The words land like a blow, like thunder, shattering and spilling through her veins like liquid flames. All these years. All these years, and Xue Fangfei is the first person aside from Tong’er to say they believe her. Not her father, not her grandmother, but a complete stranger.

Abruptly, Jiang Li feels the urge to cry.

She doesn’t even know if Xue Fangfei is just saying this to convince her to trust her.

“You… How are you so certain?” Jiang Li asks. Especially about the claim that her stepmother has done other things, which she has no clue about.

“Su-guogong’s intelligence network keeps detailed tabs on all the major families in the capital,” Xue Fangfei says.

That makes sense. It’s a little frightening, but it does make sense. Su-guogong must be a powerful political figure with many resources.

Xue Fangfei then tells her about Liu-yi’s upcoming visit, and spends the next half shichen laying out evidence that the hall master has a lover, as well as how Jiang Li can accordingly create the circumstances to force the maiden’s hall to let her leave. She also tells her that Su-guogong will be here on that same day to arrest a man involved with the illegal salt trade.

“You can either wait in your room and let Liu-furen take you home, after which you will only be questioned by the Ministry of Justice, to prove the hall master’s affair was not a one-off incident,” Xue Fangfei explains, “Or you can get involved with the illegal salt case as well, and let Su-guogong detain you temporarily, then send you home with half of his ceremonial procession. The latter option will ensure that your return cannot be hidden from the public by your family.”

By the time Xue Fangfei and Jiang Li have finished confirming details, the sun has begun to rise.

Jiang Li shoots a panicked glance at the dawn light filtering through the wooden slats which the hall claims are walls. “You need to leave now, everyone’s getting up!”

Xue Fangfei just grins. “Don’t worry, Su-guogong is still waiting for me. He’ll get me out without anyone the wiser.”

Ah? It’s a bit strange that Su-guogong has been waiting this entire time; if Xue Fangfei only needed someone to sneak her in and out, wouldn’t one of his subordinates have sufficed? Unless he has less men than Xue Fangfei implied earlier?

Xue Fangfei curtsies a perfect goodbye, quickly turns around to glance at Tong’er’s still-sleeping figure, and slips out through the door before Jiang Li can react.

It takes a few days for the emotional upheaval to settle, for Jiang Li to calm down enough to think. All the information Xue Fangfei gave her about the hall master’s affair seems to check out through her and Tong’er’s observation, and the hall has indeed gotten the news that Liu-yi is visiting. Yet, Xue Fangfei never explained her obvious interest in Tong’er’s welfare.

It is also somewhat confusing that she gave Jiang Li the choice to not get involved with the salt case, when she claimed she wished to aid Su-guogong. Surely Su-guogong is much more important than Jiang Li in Xue Fangfei’s eyes – one is her saviour, the other just a lady who happens to possess the perfect circumstances to be wielded. Perhaps Xue Fangfei wanted to gain her trust by giving her all the information and letting her choose herself? That’s such a risky move on her part, though.

Jiang Li talks it over with Tong’er, and they decide to go along with the plan that will see them situated in the guogong manor for a short time. They both want to speak with Xue Fangfei, and Tong’er also reasons that since Xue Fangfei is presenting herself as Jiang Li’s ally, they might get more useful information from her, especially about the other wrongs Jiang Li’s stepmother supposedly did. Neither Jiang Li nor Tong’er have much to lose, and are thus willing to take a chance on Xue Fangfei.

Another few days later, an agitated man stumbles into the room where Jiang Li is pretending to pray. She stalls for time and answers his questions, until he tries to escape through the window and is efficiently restrained and bundled away by a few armed men.

A brightly-dressed man finally sweeps into the room, and introduces himself courteously. He asks her to confirm that he will be taking her back to his manor for questioning, on the grounds that she spoke to the detained man alone for some time. Politely, he gives her an out, just as Xue Fangfei did, by saying she can still choose to let Liu-yi take her back to the capital, once the older woman finds out about the hall master’s affair and the multitude of scars on Jiang Li’s back.

Jiang Li looks into Su-guogong’s youthful face and realises that his intelligence network can’t have been that active a decade ago, given that he would have been too young. Unless he is much older than he looks, or the network was passed on to him by an elder, something about the information Jiang Li has is not adding up.

Oh, well. At least she’ll be seeing Xue Fangfei very soon. She’ll save her questions for when they meet.

Chapter Text

Ling Yun is giddily picking Yan-daifu’s brain over a pot of tea when Zhujun carries a woman into the parlour, with something Ling Yun might almost call agitation in his steps.

They’re all drenched, including Lu Ji-ge who comes in behind them, but the woman looks… quite unwell. Ling Yun worriedly pinpoints the too-pale lips, the violent shivering, the unfocused eyes, and the wound on her head; everything else is concealed by what seems to be Zhujun’s own cloak.

His master sets the woman down gently. Yan-daifu is already reaching for her pulse, tsking when the mess around both her wrists are revealed. Underneath the cloak, her robes are concerningly muddy.

Zhujun speaks quietly as Yan-daifu works. “Lu Ji, bring bowls of ginger soup for all three of us, then let Yan-daifu clear you. And then you can get changed and grab some rest before I send you out tomorrow. You are not allowed to fall ill, alright? Xiao-Yun will be enough help here, and Wen Ji can coordinate everything outside.” Lu Ji-ge bows quickly and jogs out, dripping as he goes.

Yan-daifu is frowning severely. “She needs to change out of these clothes and get dry now.”

“Alright,” Zhujun nods, then picks the woman back up and heads towards his bedroom.

“Um!” Ling Yun frantically lets out what he will not admit is a squeak. “Should I…? At least I haven’t reached majority yet?” He only turns fifteen later this year – the youngest among the brothers. While a woman is obviously the ideal choice for this task, there are no sisters among their ranks, nor among the household servants.

Zhujun spares him a grateful smile, but shakes his head, and disappears into his bedroom with the woman.

In their wake, Yan-daifu pats his hand reassuringly. “It’s alright. You did not see the way your master looks at her; she’s probably already his lover.”

…But everyone knows Zhujun doesn’t even talk to women who aren’t suspects!

While they wait, Yan-daifu has him collect the poultice needed for the woman’s external injuries from their healing supplies, then quizzes him on how to treat her. Apart from the obvious, she has apparently been under prolonged stress, likely hasn’t eaten well in the past few days, has recently been nearly asphyxiated, and all in all may have been rescued from being buried in some manner…?

Ling Yun answers flawlessly, according to the pleased crinkle around Yan-daifu’s eyes, but otherwise feels entirely out of his depth. Lu Ji-ge drops back in with the soup and perfunctorily allows Yan-daifu to check him over, but leaves again before Ling Yun could gather his wits enough to ask what happened.

When Zhujun comes back, still carrying the woman, both of them are dry and dressed in clean clothing. Thankfully, the woman seems more lucid now, and is engaged in a furiously whispered conversation with Zhujun.

To Ling Yun’s shock, Zhujun sits down with the woman in his lap, then lifts one of the bowls to her lips. Ling Yun instantly averts his eyes, heat rising to his cheeks. Body heat is one of the better ways to warm someone up at an appropriate pace, but–!

Yan-daifu gently cuffs the back of his head, and tells him to handle the woman’s forehead and right wrist, while the older man frowns over her left wrist. Ling Yun’s desperate efforts to not meet anyone’s eyes as he works are mercifully aided by the fact that both Zhujun and the woman are entirely focused on their conversation.

“But Haitang–!” the woman is saying.

“What good will you be to her if you go back out there and pass out, hm?” Zhujun interrupts. He does not sound pleased.

“She’s hurt and she’s scared and she will not trust any of your men! It has to be me.”

“If you are suggesting venturing outside the manor,” Yan-daifu interjects, “I must strongly advise against doing so, at least until after tomorrow. You need rest.”

The woman falls silent.

“What if I send someone with an object that Haitang will recognise as yours?” Zhujun tries suggesting.

“I don’t have anything with me right now that we can use, including my accessories or even my embroidery. If we use the robes I was wearing, that’ll just terrify her more. And even if you have your men collect my jade pendant and show it to her, she knows anyone can retrieve it with enough money.” The woman sounds near tears.

Ling Yun tucks away the ends of the dressings around her injuries, and is left trying not to stare at the arm Zhujun has curled around her waist.

“Um,” Ling Yun says before he can think better of it. “Does she recognise your handwriting? If she does, would a letter work?”

A pause.

“Oh,” the woman says in a small voice. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“All the more reason you need to stay home and let yourself recover,” Zhujun sighs. “Xiao-Yun, bring us paper and a brush from my table, please.”

Ling Yun returns to Yan-daifu telling the woman she needs to refrain from using her left wrist for anything beyond light movement, if she wants it to recover fully.

“Splint it,” Zhujun says. “She will fail to follow these orders, otherwise.”

The woman huffs, but agrees with an exasperated “Fine.”

Ling Yun grinds some ink and rolls the whole conversation over in his head while Yan-daifu splints and wraps the wrist efficiently. Someone named Haitang – a woman’s, and more likely than not, a servant’s name – who is injured and untrusting.

“You could send me?” He suggests. Both Zhujun and the woman’s gazes settle on him, piercing. “I’m young enough to not look threatening. And I can handle any wounds that need immediate treatment, before Yan-daifu or another physician takes a look at her.”

The woman looks at Zhujun. After a moment of consideration, Zhujun nods. “Good thinking,” he says. Ling Yun tries not to let the warmth of the praise flush his skin, and fails horribly, going by Yan-daifu’s chuckle.

Zhujun nudges the woman, which unfortunately brings Ling Yun’s attention back to the way she is curled into Zhujun’s body. “You know more than I do,” his master says.

The woman turns to Ling Yun. “Haitang said,” she says, then stops short. “Ah. Haitang is my handmaid. She was ambushed by several men and thrown into a sack. I heard the men saying they will discard her at the mass grave, but I don’t know when they’re planning to do it. And I’m not sure, but she might have two open blade wounds on her left cheek.”

Interestingly vague yet specific. And with this context, her certainty that Haitang will be found conscious or even alive seems like blind optimism. Even Yan-daifu is looking at her with his brows scrunched, like he’s contemplating making her answer a few questions to double-check her lucidity.

“Alright, write the letter first,” Zhujun drags the paper and brush closer to her, and she starts writing. “Xiao-Yun, remember to bring an umbrella and enough flares, just in case you need assistance. Start looking in the mass grave; I’ll send a few more men to help you in a while. If you see people dumping sacks or bodies, do not engage. Wait until they’re gone before you do anything.”

“Yes, Zhujun.” His master doesn’t have to worry about any sort of youthful bravado on his part. They both know he dislikes fighting, even though he’s good at it.

“Your only job is to find Haitang, keep her calm and convince her to come back with you, alright? In the worst case scenario, just restrain her and have the other men bring her back as a suspect,” Zhujun continues.

Haitang’s master grimaces, but doesn’t voice an objection. She lays the brush down, folds the letter up and hands it to Ling Yun. “Hopefully, she’ll believe what I’ve written in the letter. Even if she doesn’t, at least the letter will prove that you have me. That might convince her to follow you.”

“I’ll try my best,” Ling Yun promises. “Shall I go now?”

Zhujun nods, so Ling Yun turns to leave. As he reaches the corridor, Zhujun raises his voice and repeats, “An umbrella and extra flares!”

Soon after, Ling Yun spends a miserable, miserable night combing through the mass grave. At least the rain has let up significantly, and he’s joined by three older brothers who share in his misery.

The sky is just starting to lighten when too-heavy footsteps approach. Qi-ge and Wu-ge are looking elsewhere, so it’s only Ling Yun and Muhe-ge who slip closer to the noise, hiding themselves behind a small mound.

Two men, plainly dressed, come into view. They’re carrying a sack in between them, clearly containing a body. Some of the blood on the bag is still bright red, glistening wetly.

As soon as the men leave, Muhe-ge moves into a lookout position while Ling Yun approaches the sack cautiously.

“Hello?” He tries. “Can you hear me?”

The sack freezes in a way only a living person can. Ling Yun lets out a silent sigh of relief – even if it’s not Haitang, he’ll have helped this person. “Try not to move too much, okay? I’m going to untie the opening of your bag.”

That unveils the cowering figure of a young woman. Behind her raised – and tied – arms, Ling Yun thinks he spots two large cuts on her left cheek.

Well, it looks like he’s found Haitang.

Now, what’s left is only the daunting task of convincing someone shaking with terror that he’s trustworthy, and that she should follow him somewhere she doesn’t know.

Why did he volunteer for this again?

Qi Meng is about to go insane.

He doesn’t even want to think about the fact that Zhujun just came back with some random dirt-covered woman in his arms and disappeared into his living quarters. They emerge after half a shichen, with her dressed in Zhujun’s clothes. There is gauze on her forehead, and when she shakes the too-long sleeves up her forearms, her wrists appear to be wrapped as well.

Zhujun orders them all to greet her as Furen, but to keep her existence quiet for now.

Their master has never shown interest in women before, what the absolute fuck. This must be another of his schemes, strange as it might seem; there is no other explanation.

But Zhujun keeps smiling , eyes crooked with his crow’s feet showing, and when he speaks to the woman – who is leaning against him, with his arm braced solidly around her back and hip – he uses a hair-raisingly soft tone.

There’s no need for Zhujun to put on a performance in front of his own men, right? Right? Qi Meng needs more information, damn it.

But no, forget all of that. Qi Meng is losing his heavens-damned mind over the singularly impossible task he and two other brothers are given, out of the whole bunch of men urgently summoned to the manor tonight.

Sure, all of the agents who serve Zhujun pride themselves on their prowess and efficiency, but – how are three men supposed to unearth a specific corpse when they aren’t even allowed to interrogate the people who killed that man?

Qi Meng tries protesting, of course. The other two are too disciplined to do so.

“Do we even have any idea which area in or around the city the Shens could have disposed of the man?”

“None at all,” Zhujun says, unfazed. “I would suggest starting at the mass grave, though.”

Searching the mass grave is the sort of task that would normally take ten men, not three! And the body they’re looking for might not even be there!

“Can more brothers be assigned to this task?”

“No, there is still much to do, and we’ll be stretched thin as it is. Looking for this body is already one of the least urgent tasks. You have until we move against the Shens.”

Well, at least Zhujun’s not asking them to turn up with the correct corpse within a matter of days.

“Do we know how the man died? Or what sort of wounds he might be sporting?”

Zhujun looks at the woman – Furen – who shakes her head. Zhujun turns back and says, “I doubt the Shens hired another man to kill this one, which means they likely had their household guards do it. Probably with poison or a simple blade, or a combination of both. Look for recently passed young men under their thirties, strong and,” Zhujun’s face darkens, “Good-looking, apparently.”

Unhelpful!

“Are you sure we can’t interrogate the Shens for a location? Just a little?”

“No, we can’t alert them to the fact that we’re on to them. The body will be a crucial piece of evidence in the eventual case against them.”

Ugh!

“How can we confirm that we’ve got the right body anyway?”

“Bring any possible bodies back here…” Zhujun obviously catches Mystery Furen wincing, and changes tack immediately. “No, to the safehouse in the outskirts of the city. Furen will confirm the man’s identity.”

Oh, of course she won’t be joining the search directly, even if her being there would speed things up a ton, given that she seems to be the only person capable of identifying the corpse. Who the fuck is she, to have so clearly gained Zhujun’s favour, and so out of the blue?

“Why the three of us?” Qi Meng tries as a last resort to wriggle out of this impossible assignment.

“The other jobs require men who look more…” Zhujun’s eyes crinkle. “Trustworthy at first sight.” Unnamed Furen glares at Zhujun and hits him on the arm.

Qi Meng agrees with her, just for this one moment. He has been betrayed by his own dearest master, absolutely gutted! He doesn’t even have facial scars like Wu-xiong does! Sure, young ladies often give him a wide berth when they take in his loud, booming voice, bushy beard, and brawl-built shoulders…

Qi Meng droops. Zhujun might have a point about him and Wu-xiong. But–

“What about Wang Muhe? He looks perfectly approachable.”

“Did you forget that Muhe is friends with that girl who works at the morgue?”

Oh. That’s actually going to be really helpful.

Zhujun smiles at him. “Any more complaints?” Unlike how he’s been smiling at Surprise Furen, this is a teeth-baring smile that sends literal chills down Qi Meng’s spine. “Would you like to follow Wen Ji’s example and collect some corporal punishment?”

Absolutely not. Qi Meng mimes stuffing his mouth shut. Everyone knows Wen Ji only gets symbolic pats on the ass whenever he’s sent to be flogged; with the frequency that Zhujun assigns him punishment, he would be permanently laid out in bed if the beatings were real. At this point, the beatings are just gentle embarrassment for Wen Ji, to remind him to think carefully before saying things out loud.

This is not a luxury afforded to the rest of them, though. Qi Meng has no intention of reliving the three agonising weeks he spent in bed, after he jokingly shot at a visitor on the manor’s drill ground. He still doesn’t know what he was thinking at the time. At least he’s learnt his lesson about acting on a whim without considering the consequences.

Zhujun nods. “Good. Looking for this man’s body is your main task. However, I’m giving you two more tasks. Xiao-Yun is already on his way to the mass grave to look for Furen’s handmaid, who should still be alive. Help him with that. Secondly, and only after you’ve found Furen’s handmaid, find a female corpse about her age and size,” Zhujun tilts his head at Secret Furen, “And bury it in Qingcheng Mountain. Lu Ji will show you where tomorrow.”

Hah? Qi Meng shoots a furtive glance at Pretty Furen, who still has faint streaks of dirt clinging to her hair. Similar bodies usually mean replac–

Did Zhujun just imply that she– that he found–

Qi Meng needs to yank his hair out of his scalp. He needs to scream at the sky. He needs to not be looking for a random corpse in the capital like a needle in a fucking ocean, and most of all, he needs to not think about Zhujun’s new furen.

Known for their stoic patience even among their brothers, Lie Zhanying and his team are responsible for long-term surveillance on the Princess. For years, they’ve watched and tracked the Princess and her correspondence, and recorded the guests who went in and out of the princess manor.

The past few days and nights, they have been joined by a court official named Cai Quan. The man has absolutely no gift for subterfuge, but at least knows how to keep his silence, despite his intermittent shock at who the Princess has been meeting with.

Instead of keeping to their norm of communicating through letters and servants, Li Zhongnan has visited the Princess in person since Cai Quan joined them. They must have taken whatever bait Zhujun used to draw their attention, and are planning further action. Separately, Shen Yurong has visited multiple times, some of them overnight stays.

Lie Zhanying assumes this is the reason Zhujun stationed Cai Quan with them much earlier than when Xue Zhao is estimated to arrive in the capital – Cai Quan will have formed a damning opinion of the Princess even before he sees Xue Zhao being delivered.

Incoming, a brother whistles from the far distance. It’s the early hours of the morning. Lie Zhanying shakes Cai Quan awake, and shuffles them over to where they can watch the servants’ entrance to the manor, yet still be close enough to the other entrances should his prediction be mistaken.

A while later, a cart laden with multiple sacks rolls up to the servants’ entrance. The large man pushing the cart shoves the uppermost sacks aside, then hauls the biggest one out and over his shoulder.

The outline pressed against the coarse fabric is clearly a human body. Given that no new intelligence was passed on to his team, Lie Zhanying assumes that the sack contains an unconscious Xue Zhao; if he were dead, there would be no point bringing him to the princess manor.

The man carrying Xue Zhao is clearly expected by the manor. The servants’ entrance swings open, spilling yellow lantern light onto the cobbled streets. A servant ushers the man inside, and the door swings shut just as quickly.

After a ke, the man slips back out onto the streets, and leaves with his cart. He returned empty-handed.

Grimacing, Cai Quan turns to look at Lie Zhanying. “Alright,” the official whispers with determination. “I need to speak with your master about this.”

Lie Zhanying supposes Zhujun will be giving his team another mission soon – there is no doubt that they’ll be able to close down and search the princess manor shortly.

Chapter Text

Zhen Ping is one of the few men to whom Zhujun fully explains the context regarding their new missions.

The reason is very simple.

“Your new furen is Xue Fangfei, deceased wife of Hanlin academic Shen Yurong. I will be marrying her as soon as possible,” Zhujun says with a quirk of his lips, and the woman’s cheeks dust red at his words. “Her father is Xue Huaiyuan. That makes him…?”

Zhen Ping thinks back to the orders he and A-Qiu were given – monitor the imprisonment of Huaixiang’s recently convicted magistrate Xue Huaiyuan, and immediately get him out in whichever way is most efficient if it looks like he’s about to be harmed or tortured beyond superficial, easily healed damage. In the meantime, assist Li Gang in ousting the current office and their gold mine. If they don’t have to rescue Xue Huaiyuan early, they’re to wait until Li Gang is done with the mine to free the man, and then guard him back to the capital when the official summons from the Court of Judicial Review arrives.

Zhen Ping knows his master needs the case against Li Zhongnan to be as watertight as possible, which should have meant a distinct absence of bailing prisoners out early through illegal means. However, this new information about how Zhujun sees Xue Huaiyuan illuminates his master’s other priorities quite thoroughly. It also frames the arm hovering protectively around the woman’s shoulders in a different light than he first thought.

It seems like Zhujun is serious about Furen.

“That would make him your yuefu,” Zhen Ping replies wryly.

“Smart man!” Zhujun claps him on the shoulder as a bright grin breaks across his face. It’s often difficult to remember that he is years younger than Zhen Ping, but the child-like joy he’s letting himself show right now makes Zhen Ping’s heart hurt a little. Zhujun’s hang-ups about family are mountain-obvious, if one cares enough to pay attention.

Zhen Ping will have to dedicate some effort to figuring out whether Furen or her family are seeking to use Zhujun for their own means, and whether Furen sincerely returns his master’s feelings. At least he knows he’ll have an ally in Lu Ji, who has been assigned to guard Furen at all times, and will no doubt sound the alarm if he discovers anything.

None of them will let any harm come to their master, even if they have to die for it.

A week later, Zhen Ping and A-Qiu watch in horrified silence as Xue Huaiyuan breaks at the knowledge that both his children are dead, the news delivered to him through poisonous taunts. Even at a distance, Zhen Ping can see the older man’s eyes clouding as he realises that their deaths are a direct result of his steadfast refusal to bend to the demands of corrupt officials.

Well. At least there’s a silver lining to this situation – Zhujun is safe from any machinations by Xue Huaiyuan. Unlike the vast majority of officials or even Zhujun, this is not a man who plays politics like a game of chess, who uses and discards people as needed.

That is, if the man’s grief does not change him beyond recognition.

Zhen Ping makes a risky, on-the-spot decision. He hastily digs out the paper strips normally reserved for pigeon messages, and scribbles four too-large words using the charcoal stick for field markings.

A-Qiu grabs at his arm, and emphatically signs a request for information.

Injury, Zhen Ping signs back, and gestures at his own heart, and head. Injury, he repeats, then points at Xue Huaiyuan.

A-Qiu is amazingly quick on the uptake; Zhujun chose the two of them for this mission for a reason. It takes his partner only one more glance at the words he’s written down, before A-Qiu narrows his eyes at him. Compromised! he signs. 

Oh, he’s well aware. Zhujun had warned them that there’s a chance Xue Huaiyuan might divulge all the information he has to the court, regardless of whether it might be detrimental to his case, so they must not alert him to their presence unless they’ve decided to break him out. And a piece of paper is clearly not a break-out plan.

However, Zhujun has two main aims – the first, to prosecute Li Zhongnan, and in the process clear the Xues’ name. The second, to ensure the Xues’ wellbeing.

Zhujun has made it clear which aim he prioritises more. Zhen Ping has to agree, in this moment.

My responsibility, he just signs at A-Qiu. His partner sighs frustratedly, but after another glance at the way their charge is slumped against the wall, lets go of him.

Zhen Ping makes sure his face covering is still secure, then ghosts above and over the dungeons, until he’s right against the tiny window of Xue Huaiyuan’s cell. At least it’s night; his dark robes blend easily into the shadows.

He lets the paper flutter through the bars and right onto Xue Huaiyuan’s lap.

It takes but a second for the man to read it. Xue Huaiyuan’s head snaps upwards and around until he spots him through the window. The man squints; Zhen Ping’s curled up figure is undoubtedly indistinct in the flickering shadows cast by the burning torches outside the cells.

Xue Huaiyuan raises the slip of paper and widens his eyes in a question, painful hope dawning on his face.

Zhen Ping confirms the information with a slow and clear nod, then raises a finger to his lips. He then mimes swallowing the paper; there is no fire source that Xue Huaiyuan can safely reach.

The man nods back frantically, tears gathering in his eyes. He puts the paper in his mouth, chews, and then the words are swallowed forever.

Son and daughter saved.

Zhen Ping might have just risked part of Zhujun’s work, but his master has always appreciated his quick thinking, anyway.

It has been more than a week since A-Zhao last visited her.

She should have known the box of silver heralded only bad news; it screamed of him preparing for a long departure. She should have asked more questions.

In A-Zhao’s conspicuous absence, the creditors have gotten bold again, trying to lay their hands on her. Five liang of silver were used to placate them yesterday. The other five were used this morning, when they caught her on her way back from delivering her customer’s washed and mended clothing. They even took the few coppers she was paid.

Now, she’s left only with an empty box, a carved name, a diagram that she does not understand, and the lingering wisps of jeering threats to sell her to a brothel.

“Qiongzhi?” One of her housemates calls out from their small courtyard. “There’s a young man here to see you.”

For a single, breathless moment, she thinks, he’s back, until reason takes over once again. All of her housemates recognise A-Zhao by now, and would have used his name with teasing enthusiasm if it were indeed him.

A young man, here to see her. Another creditor, sent by the older men to lure her out? Or perhaps a friend of A-Zhao’s, here to deliver a message or ensure her safety on his behalf?

She won’t know unless she speaks with him.

Under the midday sun, the man stands waiting outside the main gate. He’s dressed in dark robes; Qiongzhi would feel hot just by looking at him, except for how his robes appear to be made of sturdy, breathable cotton. Nothing high-end, but still much finer than the clothing she regularly handles for her customers in this area.

When he sees her approach, the man gives her a quick but precise bow. Echoes of A-Zhao’s patient voice rings in her ears – the man’s feet are planted just a hint too wide for him to be untrained, and Qiongzhi skims her eyes over his body just as A-Zhao taught her… there. The bulge of what might be a blade’s hilt within his boot.

An enforcer?

But he raises his head back up to reveal unfamiliar and utterly nondescript features, with no hint of the malice and lust that paints the other creditors’ faces. And when he greets her, it is with a soft and polite “Qiongzhi-niangzi.”

She presses her lips into a tense line, but returns his greeting with a shallow curtsy. He does not seem to be of the same ilk as the creditors who are after her, even if she cannot be certain that he means her no harm.

“This one is named Nie Duo,” he continues. His gaze flickers over to where some of her housemates must be keeping an eye on them, and he lowers his voice even more. “I was sent to bring you to the capital for both official and private business. I was told to let you read this letter before I explain further.”

The letter is written on good, smooth paper, the kind that A-Zhao uses. The handwriting is pretty even to her inexperienced eye, the characters uniformly sized and spaced.

Qiongzhi-niangzi,

I am Xue Fangfei, Xue Zhao’s older sister. A-Zhao has spoken much, and well, of you. It is in the hopes that he has spoken similarly of me that I pen this letter, despite not being able to prove my identity to you.

Neither can I put too many details into writing, for fear of this letter falling into the wrong hands. However, I urge you to trust the man who brings this letter to you, in both his words, and his ability to keep you safe. By the time he brings you this letter, days will have passed since A-Zhao was supposed to visit you. I fear for your safety should you stay in Luyang, as A-Zhao will not be able to visit again for the coming months, if not longer.

I regret that you will not be given a choice in coming to the capital, as it is not just your safety at stake, but also my family’s, and Huaixiang as a whole. However, I can promise that you will be reunited with A-Zhao here.

I wish you peace and safety,

Xue Fangfei

She reads the letter again, from top to bottom. It is only when she notices that her tight grip is ripping the paper’s edges that she looks back up at the man in front of her. Nie Duo has made no move to rush her, and is merely standing silently.

“Who are you?” she asks, caution warring with the desperate need to know more in her chest.

He reaches into the folds of his robes and brings out a metal token, the word “Su” raised on its surface. “I am one of Su-guogong’s subordinates.”

Guogong? The letter mentioned something concerning the Xues and all of Huaixiang, which does seem like the sort of business that would bring a guogong down on their heads. What sort of trouble have the Xues become entangled in?

“Please explain,” she says tersely.

Nie Duo’s voice lowers even more, to just a quiet rumble. “The official factor for bringing you back to the capital is this – Xue Huaiyuan was targeted by a scheme that has had him arrested, awaiting execution, because he refused to cooperate in the illegal reopening of a gold mine in Huaixiang. Both his son and daughter were also targeted, for fear that they were in the know. Xue Fangfei is said to be dead, and Xue Zhao has been ambushed and captured, also presumed dead.”

Despite her very best attempt to keep herself under control and not jump to conclusions, the letter is crushed beyond repair in her fists. Nie Duo blinks, looks at the pale tightness of her fingers, and almost rushes to get his next words out.

“They are both alive. Xue-niangzi was secretly saved by Zhujun, and by the time I was sent to retrieve you, there was already a plan to recover Xue Zhao. He should be safe now. Zhujun is preparing a case that will reveal the Xues’ innocence and penalise the officials committing treason.”

Air comes rushing back into her lungs, dizzying. Heavens. If he had– How would she–

“And how does this case involve me?” she manages to get out through the tingling numbness of her tongue.

“It came to our attention that Xue Zhao gave you a box of silver and a map of the gold mine being reopened. That makes you a key witness, in possession of evidence that will prove the Xues’ innocence.”

Qiongzhi startles a bit. A map of an underground mine. The diagram suddenly makes a lot of sense, with that context.

But how did they find out? She never showed anyone the map, and if it is so important, she would assume A-Zhao didn’t, either.

It must be true, then, that eyes and hands from the capital can reach as far as the common grasses of the counties.

“I see,” she murmurs. “That is why Xue-niangzi said I will not be given a choice in being taken to the capital.”

Nie Duo nods, seeming almost apologetic.

“And the private factor that you mentioned?” she asks.

“Xue-niangzi is… very concerned about your safety. When she and Zhujun gave me my instructions…” Nie Duo purses his lips. “I was ordered to come here as quickly as I could. And if I failed to find you at your residence, I was told to look for you at Xihua-lou.”

Oh.

That’s… not an unreasonable assumption. And now that she’s paying attention, she can see the road dust clinging to him.

She lowers her eyes, and takes a slow, deep breath.

“Well,” she starts. “After I go with you, the creditors will no longer be a problem.”

She is inclined to believe all that the man has said. He has also been courteous, thus far, in the smallest of details. And she would much rather dedicate herself to A-Zhao and his family’s aid, only to find out that she has been deceived, than dismiss this man’s words as lies, only to find out that A-Zhao truly needed her cooperation.

In addition, if Nie Duo is determined to take her away against her wishes, she would have no chance of escaping successfully – a small woman without martial training against a healthy and trained adult man?

No, she is pragmatic enough to admit that she would prefer to travel comfortably, instead of as an unwilling prisoner.

Decision now firmly made, she speaks up. “I assume we’re leaving now? I will pack a bag, then.”

“Yes, bring everything you do not wish to part with; you will not be returning for some time,” Nie Duo says. Several months, if not longer, Qiongzhi recalls Xue-niangzi’s letter saying. “I will help carry whatever you cannot.”

She acknowledges his words with a nod and heads back into her rooms, ever so slightly heartened to note that Nie Duo does not take that as an invitation to enter their home.

It takes longer than she expected – there are bags of customers’ laundry to pass to her housemate, the landlady to pay and appease, more housemates to say goodbyes to and reassure that everything is fine, and so on.

She comes back to the gate with two large bags slung over her shoulder. Nie Duo is still standing at the door with the afternoon sun bearing down on him, not even leaning against the wood. He reaches out to lift each of the bags, then takes the heavier one from her.

“I’m not handing the map over to you, though,” she warns him. Now that she knows what it is, she will only relinquish it to someone she trusts to use it well.

An approving smile ghosts over the man’s lips.

Zhujun started building his own martial force and intelligence network eight years ago. From the very beginning, the decision to keep Wen Ji and Lu Ji in the light and the rest of them in the shadows has been deliberate.

Anyone who can recognise Zhujun’s face also recognises Wen Ji and Lu Ji, for how they accompany their master wherever he goes. The two of them act as the primary point of contact between Zhujun and the rest of the brothers, and are indeed extremely competent in both martial arts and organisation skills.

That doesn’t mean the rest of them aren’t just as good, though.

Zhujun’s opponents often fail to anticipate large-scale takedowns in one place if they see Wen Ji and Lu Ji in another. It’s not a tactic that Zhujun uses often, to keep his adversaries from catching on.

This time, Zhujun puts Feng-ge and Li Gang himself in charge of the coordinated raids across two counties. Over the course of a few days, they and their men disguise themselves as ordinary labourers and street sellers, beneath anyone’s notice, and trickle out of the capital one by one. The men will gather together again when Feng-ge and Li Gang summon them at their respective destinations.

Feng-ge gets to handle the mess in Luyang. Zhujun has apparently gotten confirmation that Cheng-wang’s training base for his assassins was moved there, and there’s a major agent to apprehend in one of the brothels. Duo’er was already sent to Luyang earlier on a separate errand, but Li Gang is sure that Duo’er will pass on anything he’s learnt to his older brother.

Meanwhile, Li Gang gets to handle the Dongshan gold mine. He carries the map of the mine that Zhujun gave him, which he studied with his men before they set off. Zhen Ping and A-Qiu are already in Huaixiang; they’re keeping an eye on the local office, and will send him word if the officials seem to have gotten wind of the upcoming bust.

As planned, Li Gang arrives a few days before the anticipated date of action, and spends that time scoping out the reopened mine. Even though it is still in its early days of operations, he’s already spotted several mutinous workers with the bearing of public officials. Li Gang mentally marks them down for future questioning. He will bet his entire month’s pay that they used to be Xue Huaiyuan’s subordinates, and remain loyal to him.

Zhen Ping sends word that they’ve found the ledger for the gold mine on the same day that the message from the capital finally arrives – they’ve arrested the Princess and freed Xue Zhao. It’s time for the next stage in Zhujun’s plan.

Overnight, Li Gang summons all the brothers in Huaixiang. Once everyone is ready, he picks the moment just before dawn to take action, when the mine’s sentries believe that the heightened dangers of nighttime have passed, and are flagging and ready for their compatriots to replace them at their posts.

The attack goes off without a hitch. The four workers that he’s taken notice of join in as well, and the sun is only just rising when everyone emerges from the stone labyrinth again.

“Please, sir– our magistrate, he–” One of those workers goes to his knees in front of Li Gang, still blinking rapidly as his eyes get reaccustomed to sunlight. The other three follow suit, and Li Gang hurries to help them up.

He waves a few of his brothers over, then gestures at the chained-up mine overseers. “Keep them here until Zhen Ping or I send confirmation that the local office and its prison is under our control. Then we can put them in there, along with their employers.”

Then he turns back to the four men. “Alright, let’s go free your magistrate and arrest the people who did this to you,” he says firmly. “Lead the way.”

Chapter Text

The sky is slowly turning fish-belly pale by the time Wen Ji finally catches Zhujun alone – Lu Ji is asleep; the other brothers have left to prepare for their new tasks; and Shen-furen is stashed away in a guest room that Wen Ji wasn’t even aware the manor had.

“Zhujun, who gave you all this information? Was it Shen-furen? Is she really trust-worthy?” Wen Ji asks in one breath.

Apart from the most important reports that make their way directly to Zhujun’s desk, the majority of their intelligence is usually funnelled up through Wen Ji to pass on to Zhujun. Wen Ji hasn’t heard even a whisper of… of everything that Zhujun has relayed tonight. Shen-furen is the sole new factor.

Additionally, Wen Ji has no idea why Zhujun brought her home instead of sending her back to the Shen manor. Sure, she’s injured, but not to the point that she can’t be transported elsewhere. If it were any other man, Wen Ji would not hesitate to speculate that they coveted the unique beauty Shen-furen possesses, but it’s Zhujun. His master has never visited a brothel for leisure, nor had a dalliance with anyone, let alone allowed an outsider to stay the night at the stronghold that is their manor.

And Wen Ji can’t even bother Lu Ji for an explanation about how Shen-furen came to be in Zhujun’s company – the other man already retired to his room before Wen Ji made it back to the manor with the last of the agents.

“Don’t call her Shen-furen, especially where she can hear you,” Zhujun says, a disapproving furrow forming between his brows. “If you can’t call her Furen like the others do, just call her Xue-niangzi, but only in private.”

“Zhujun!” Wen Ji protests. “Is that really what you focused on? You haven’t answered my questions!”

Zhujun takes a loud breath, and Wen Ji is ready to hear crisp orders to collect punishment, but then Zhujun just… slowly lets that breath out, and closes his eyes.

Wen Ji hasn’t forgotten how out of sorts his master was earlier, and the worry that something has gone wrong sharpens.

He wishes he can chalk it up to Shen-furen’s appearance, but Zhujun started acting weird before she came into the picture, and Wen Ji is absolutely certain that they didn’t receive any sort of message or signal from her that caused Zhujun’s discomposure. Or anything from anyone at all, for that matter. Perhaps the assassination attempt aimed at Jia-zhanggui is more than what it seemed? But Zhujun’s strangeness came before that, too.

That leaves physical ailments that might be affecting Zhujun’s actions, but Yan-daifu has already checked him over thoroughly and given him a clean bill of health. If anyone can catch hidden illnesses, it would be Yan-daifu.

Lu Ji, as good as he is with people, would know how to handle this. But Lu Ji isn’t here. And even Wen Ji knows better than to stumble blindly into whatever state of mind Zhujun has found himself in, so he bites his lips and fidgets slightly but otherwise keeps his silence, until Zhujun looks at him again.

“I’m sorry,” Zhujun says softly, and something in Wen Ji’s chest lurches at the sheer incongruity of Zhujun apologising to him. “You deserve an explanation that I cannot give you. I truly trust A-Li, and ask that you give us time to prove that you can trust her as much as I do.”

‘A-Li’? ‘Us’? Has Zhujun lost his mind? What is going on?

“Of course, Zhujun,” Wen Ji manages to stammer out.

“Go to sleep,” Zhujun says, and claps him on the shoulder. Wen Ji can’t help the slight jump of surprise. “You’ve worked hard today. We’ll start planning the raids within the capital after lunch tomorrow.”

Huh, alright. That actually means he can grab a few decent hours of sleep before the planning session.

When Wen Ji collects his lunch and heads to the inner courtyard, Lu Ji is already there, munching placidly. Zhujun is nowhere to be seen, and neither is Shen… Xue-niangzi.

He sets his tray down right against Lu Ji’s, and leans all the way into the other man’s side. “Help meee,” he whines. “I have no idea what’s going on. What happened after I left last night?”

Lu Ji gives him one of his utterly indecipherable looks, picks up a vegetable from one of Wen Ji’s bowls, and shoves it into Wen Ji’s open mouth. “Just adhere to all the orders Zhujun gave us about Furen,” Lu Ji says curtly. Wen Ji can’t decide if that means Lu Ji is withholding information, or if the other man doesn’t know what’s happening either.

Wen Ji chews and swallows as quickly as he can. “Why are you calling her Furen?” he tries approaching the issue from a different direction. “She’s not our furen. You know she’s married to Shen Yurong, even if the others don’t.”

Lu Ji shoots him another look, and just goes back to his own meal.

How cold, how cruel! Wen Ji laments in his own mind, and decides to drape himself all over Lu Ji about it.

The other man sighs. “Eat your food. You’ll need the energy for later,” he says gruffly.

Right, the raids that Zhujun mentioned. Wen Ji wonders which residences they’ll be raiding. Normally they only do one at a time, but with all the plans Zhujun set in motion last night, he isn’t surprised that there are multiple raids to be conducted in the capital.

It’ll be fine. He and Lu Ji can just split up and lead different teams. If it comes to it, the more experienced brothers can also lead their own teams. Zhujun can just stick to the ones that actually require his presence.

It is not fine.

Lu Ji is bafflingly assigned to guard Xue-niangzi long-term, and Zhujun even goes as far as to tell him to obey her as he would Zhujun himself.

Lu Ji doesn’t even breathe a word of protest, even though he’s stayed at Zhujun’s side ever since Zhujun saved him from the streets. Wen Ji knows that unlike him, Lu Ji almost never challenges Zhujun, but this is a new extreme.

A simple guard detail doesn’t warrant using Lu Ji at all! Now, Lu Ji is relegated to spending entire days trailing after Xue-niangzi and her rescued handmaid as she flits about in public, and to every mindless task that Xue-niangzi dreams up, like buying items from pawnshops. Apparently there’s some jade pendant that Lu Ji bought on Xue-niangzi’s behalf, only for her to immediately turn around and gift it to Zhujun, as if it wasn’t bought using Zhujun’s own money.

Even thinking about it makes Wen Ji angry!

In the meantime, both Zhujun and Wen Ji are working to death planning and executing multiple moves, the majority of which have to be simultaneous to avoid the news spreading and their targets destroying evidence or escaping beforehand.

There’s the ambush on whoever’s involved with the illegal salt trade at Qingcheng Mountain, to which Zhujun insists they bring more men than necessary, even though they’re stretched thin as it is. At least the ambush ends up being a success, and they somehow collect the chief secretary’s daughter in the process…?

And then there’s Princess Wanning’s arrest, but thankfully Zhujun and Zhanying-ge are in charge of that. Zhujun miraculously draws a map of the princess manor’s interior and dungeon, but Wen Ji also hears that the map isn’t in Zhujun’s handwriting. Maybe Zhujun got one of the Princess’ servants to turn traitor and provide a map, somehow without Wen Ji noticing. The arrest also rescues Xue-niangzi’s younger brother, so at least Wen Ji now knows why Zhujun ordered him and Xiao-Yun to bribe Yan-daifu into staying at the manor at all costs, even though the physician originally planned to leave the capital ages ago.

Wen Ji is responsible for the larger picture – he has to coordinate between Zhanying-ge and the cascade of raids that must come on the heels of the Princess’ arrest, both within the capital and in other counties.

There’s a whole list of capital officials and their family members, including Li Zhongnan and his family, to be arrested for their participation in various cases. Their political weight means that Zhujun himself has to spearhead their arrests and the search for evidence in their residences. The targets with less political influence, such as the most famous theatre troupe in the country (which includes Zhujun’s favourite actress!), fall to the other brothers.

Coordinating all these different moves from the manor, across an area larger than anything Wen Ji has attempted before, involves a lot of anxious receiving and decoding and organising and sending of information, as well as some frantic, last-moment reorganisation of their manpower to aid in struggling missions.

There’s not much physical exertion involved, but it’s such an intensive task that sweat is trickling down the sides of Wen Ji’s face. His inner robe is damp, and he can feel a headache approaching from a distance.

Still, during a rare, uneasy lull in activity, Wen Ji finds the time to puzzle over how Zhujun managed to anticipate all these arrests.

Sure, once Xue-gongzi was rescued he pointed them towards the gold mine in Huaixiang, but Zhujun knew of its existence and of the specific officials behind it way before this. And that doesn’t even include the other illegal affairs Zhujun uncovered. At this point, it feels like Xue-gongzi’s testimony is being used only as an excuse for action.

Could Xue-niangzi really have gathered all this information for Zhujun by herself? More astonishingly, all of it is turning out to be accurate.

Wen Ji has always prided himself on the intelligence network he runs for Zhujun. He’s starting to wonder if he’s not doing as good a job as he thought he was.

Only once the cases have been safely handed over to the Court of Judicial Review – still under their agents’ watchful eye, of course – does he have the time to sit down for a meal with Lu Ji again.

The normally empty inner courtyard has become bustling with activity since the last time Wen Ji ate here. Zhujun is in the palace meeting with the Emperor, but Xue-niangzi and her handmaid are eating here, as is her brother, as well as Jiang-er-niangzi and her handmaid. Earlier, Wen Ji heard the household staff mention that the manor will soon be hosting the Xue siblings’ father too, and Xue-gongzi’s lover.

“Are we running an inn now?” Wen Ji mumbles into his bowl.

Lu Ji raises an eyebrow at him. “You cannot deny that they are highly involved with the cases,” he replies in a low voice.

“Well, yes, but the manor is supposed to be safe! In the past Zhujun would have situated them in one of our other safehouses, rather than the manor,” Wen Ji whispers. No one else takes note of the discord in their conversation apart from Xue-niangzi, who gives him a concerned look that Wen Ji turns away from.

Lu Ji notices the exchange, and shoots Wen Ji another one of his looks. “Furen provided a lot of valuable information and assistance that facilitated all of our actions. Even without considering Zhujun’s regard for her, it is both a matter of convenience and safety that she and the people she hold dear are protected in the manor.”

In retrospect, the rumours that Zhujun asked to be fanned all over the capital, about the constantly-veiled Xue-niangzi being his furen, proved to help greatly with the arrests. He knows Lu Ji took Xue-niangzi and her handmaid outside the city on the day of the arrests, luring Li Zhongnan into deploying his men to try and capture her, thus leaving his defences within the city weak. Li Zhongnan had been provoked by the Princess’ earlier arrest, and desperately needed something to threaten Zhujun with. Wen Ji wonders if this was also Xue-niangzi’s idea.

“Why are you still calling her Furen now that the farce is over? She’s not our furen!” Wen Ji hisses.

Lu Ji frowns and opens his mouth to reply, but at the very same time, Wen Ji sees Xue-niangzi rising from her seat and heading towards them. He puts his bowl and chopsticks down, too loud, and hastily beats a retreat.

Xue-niangzi still manages to find him in the little shadowed nook behind his room. Wen Ji wonders how, wonders if Zhujun or Lu Ji told her this is his favourite place to hide and relax. Surely not, right? Not for a woman they barely know.

“I believe we haven’t properly introduced ourselves to each other,” Xue-niangzi says, a warm smile on her face. Wen Ji doesn’t trust it one bit. “This one is called Xue Li, courtesy name Fangfei. Please take care of me hereon.”

“Wen Ji,” he replies bluntly. What does she want from him?

“Has Xiao Heng or Lu Ji actually explained how I got involved in all of this to you?”

Wen Ji warily shakes his head. After that first day, he has been too busy to prod at either of them for answers, or interrogate the other brothers for what they know.

“Ah,” Xue-niangzi sighs. “That does sound like something the two of them would do.”

A nameless fire rises within Wen Ji. “You speak as if you know them well.”

She also addressed Zhujun using his name rather than his title. Wen Ji can’t tell if she means to disrespect Zhujun by doing so, or if she is trying to act like she has a closer relationship with Zhujun than she actually does.

“The depth of a relationship does not depend on the length of time spent knowing each other. The moment I met all of you, it felt like meeting old friends,” she says. “As for Xiao Heng… Call it love at first sight. Call it political allies whose goals align. Either way, I plan to be his partner for the rest of our lives.”

Wen Ji startles a little at how easily she read his thoughts. No wonder Lu Ji has not voiced any qualms about her; he probably appreciates spending his time with someone who can match his ability in understanding people.

“Love at first sight, huh. You would so easily betray your husband?” Wen Ji retaliates.

Surprise overtakes Xue-niangzi’s delicate features. “Oh, they didn’t tell you about that either?”

Wen Ji clenches his fist until his knuckles turn white. Xue-niangzi winces almost imperceptibly, but he is looking close enough to see it.

“I apologise, that really did not come out the way I meant it,” she says. “Please allow me to start from the beginning.”

She tells him about discovering her husband has been cheating on her, and figuring out the other woman is Princess Wanning. About long months spent panicking about her own future, and eventually noticing enough details to piece together parts of their political network. About not anticipating the brusque way Shen Yurong got rid of her – buried alive, heavens – and her handmaid, then being miraculously saved by Zhujun.

It sounds straightforward enough. But if Shen Yurong is involved too, and Xue-niangzi has such a potent motivation to act against him, why was he not included in the arrests? And why did Zhujun say that this was not an explanation he could give to Wen Ji that first day?

Unless…

“I swear that this is not some plot to seduce your master, or utilise his pity, or otherwise gain his trust through deceit. My loyalty now lies entirely with Xiao Heng, and not my former husband, who has abused my faith so absolutely. You can check with Lu Ji if you’re worried that I somehow sent Xiao Heng a hint to come save me beforehand,” Xue-niangzi continues, eyes fixed on his. “Shen Yurong has so far kept himself clean of the political ongoings Li Zhongnan and the Princess were involved in, but Xiao Heng and I are planning to nail him for his and his family’s actions against me.”

Wen Ji feels his face flush at being seen through so clearly again. He did, for a moment, suspect that she buried herself in anticipation of being dug out by Zhujun, in order to spy for her husband.

“As for your concerns about yourself…” Xue-niangzi trails off, and the way she looks at him pierces him to his core. “Would Xiao Heng have handed over the foremost responsibility of this entire operation to you if he stopped believing in your abilities?” she asks gently. “Everything would have fallen apart without you. You’re still his right hand. You haven’t failed in anything. I was just in an unfortunate enough circumstance to have learnt so much, and in a fortunate enough circumstance to be saved by Xiao Heng and be of use to him.”

Wen Ji presses his lips together, and Xue-niangzi falls silent. There’s a tree facing them, and they watch quietly as the wind rustles through its leaves.

There’s still so much that he doesn’t know. He’s sure that there’s something Zhujun is deliberately keeping from him.

However, even as dense as Wen Ji is towards other people’s emotions, it’d be hard to miss the surprisingly bright and genuine smile on Zhujun’s face whenever he catches a glimpse of Xue-niangzi during their work. And when Lu Ji speaks of her, he does so with an approving tilt to his head.

After a long while, Wen Ji speaks. “You won’t be able to stay at Zhujun’s side as his partner, above board and unchallenged, unless you resume your identity, or find another appropriate family to vouch for you.”

Xue-niangzi’s eyes squeeze into crescents as she grins. “I know. I’ll stop playing dead once Cheng-wang has been dealt with and everything has settled down. This asymmetric information is still useful to us right now.”

Wen Ji nods; she’s correct, of course.

Alright. He’ll give her a chance.

Chapter Text

When they arrive at the guogong manor, she and Niangzi are led to a room that has clearly only been dusted and aired out recently, a faintly stale smell still lingering. It is not a guest room befitting Niangzi’s status, too small and too plain; it is far better than the room that has been theirs for the past decade.

Tong’er would think Su-guogong is truly treating them as suspects to be questioned, and is thus giving them a subpar room… but the manor’s general austerity and sparse population, especially compared to her memories of the bustling Jiang manor, give her the hunch that this might already be one of the best guest rooms the guogong manor has on offer.

“There are new clothes and other supplies in the cabinets,” Xue-niangzi is saying, and in the back of her head Tong’er is wondering how the job of settling them in fell to Xue-niangzi, who is also a guest, “I could only visually estimate your sizes, so the clothing might not fit too well, and for that I apologise. Should I ask the staff to bring you some food, or a bath, or would you two like to retire now?”

Tong’er blames the fact that it is very late at night for how she loses control of her face, when Xue-niangzi includes her in her question. Curfew has long since been enforced in the city, and the small carriage that they rode back in was only allowed through the gates and streets when Su-guogong flashed his token at the various guards.

Niangzi slants a questioning look at her as well, and Tong’er shakes her head. She’s beginning to feel unexpectedly exposed by the consideration she is receiving from both ladies, particularly from a stranger.

“We’ll retire now,” Niangzi answers.

“Alright, rest well,” Xue-niangzi smiles warmly on her way out. “If you need anything, just call out; someone should hear you. I’ll see you tomorrow.” It’s sharpening into focus, what Niangzi meant when she said the other lady interacted with them as if she cares more than is appropriate, or as if she is a childhood friend they have both forgotten. Especially in regards to Tong’er. How odd.

The doors shut with a thud, and the room sinks into silence. The quiet here is of a different quality to the quiet at Qingcheng Mountain – there is no whistling wind, nor the chorus of crickets and birds, but rather the ever-present hum of human movement, even with how late it is. Not to mention, there is that inescapable stench of the city that Tong’er had nearly forgotten.

“We actually managed to return to the capital safely,” Niangzi says in a low voice, looking a little stunned.

Tong’er murmurs her agreement. The candlelight casts flickering shades of orange all over the room, and the way patches of her niangzi’s face shifts in and out of shadow lends even more of an air of fantasy to their situation.

Abruptly, Tong’er feels dangerously adrift.

“Niangzi, tomorrow… Do you really plan on questioning Xue-niangzi about the inconsistencies we were puzzled by?”

Her niangzi tilts her head. “Why not?”

“We are staying here, and being treated well, entirely on Su-guogong and Xue-niangzi’s hospitality.” Her words hint at it, but she doesn’t dare explicitly lay out her speculation about the extent of Xue-niangzi’s influence within the guogong manor. Not without much more observation, and the assurance that no one is spying on their conversation, at least. “If something we say or do jeopardises their leniency towards us…”

Niangzi’s shoulders slowly slump out of their meticulously held posture. “I understand. I’ll think about it, but probably only after I’ve had some sleep,” she says, face breaking into a weary grin.

That’s alright. Moreover, any questions with undertones of doubt or accusation would have vastly different implications coming from herself than it would from her niangzi. They have options.

Tong’er huffs a light laugh in response, and starts preparing for bed.

It’s their first morning away from the maiden’s hall in a decade. Both of their body clocks unfailingly wake them at dawn, even though there are no blinding shafts of sunlight piercing through unrepaired windows and walls, only a muted glow from the sturdily papered windows.

Despite how early it is, there is already an urgent edge to the noises coming from beyond their room. Quick footsteps; sharp bumps between wood and stone and steel; the occasional raised voice.

Tong’er and her niangzi tidy themselves up as much as they can without asking for water, and then are left staring at each other.

“Should we try asking for someone to bring us food, or should we venture outside ourselves?” Niangzi asks her.

Tong’er’s stomach gives a timely growl. Niangzi laughs.

“Decision made, I suppose,” Niangzi says with cheery eyes. Tong’er smiles sheepishly, and follows her niangzi out the door.

They attempt to retrace their steps to the main courtyard that they passed through on their way in; it’ll be easier to find the kitchens from there. There are way more people rushing around the manor than they saw last night. Despite the flurry of activity, there aren’t any female staff that Tong’er can notice. Maybe they’ll find women working indoors?

It comes as a surprise when Xue-niangzi just pops up beside them, trailed by what looks to be a handmaid and one of Su-guogong’s men. It’s seeming likelier and likelier that Tong’er and her niangzi are being monitored.

“Good morning,” the lady greets, echoed by the respective curtsy and nod from the two behind her. “Shall we speak over breakfast?”

Xue-niangzi shows them the way to the kitchens and how to collect their portions of food – interestingly the same fare as everyone else’s, including Xue-niangzi – then cuts through the chaos to a quiet inner courtyard.

“This is the courtyard closest to all the bedrooms. If you wish to eat outside of your room, we usually take our meals here, to avoid obstructing the agents’ paths. They’re especially busy these few weeks, with the upcoming trials,” Xue-niangzi says. “Although he knows that it is an imposition, Su-guogong also asks that you do not step foot outside the manor during your stay here, to keep up the pretence that you’re here as witnesses to be questioned.”

Niangzi sits down right next to the other lady, and through the incline of her body, Tong’er can tell that she is itching to ask Xue-niangzi all the questions they’ve swallowed so far. Ah, well.

As expected, her niangzi speaks. “Su-guogong seems to have everything in hand, even without our participation, given that you’ve both given us the choice to not come to the manor.”

“The cases would progress much faster with your presence here than without, though.” Xue-niangzi smiles politely. “As I said before, your links to the case, no matter how dubious, will ensure the chief secretary has no choice but to actively involve himself. No doubt your father will show up here soon, demanding that you be released into his care.”

Tong’er bites back the instinctive reply that springs to her lips – that Jiang Yuanbai has already abandoned them for a decade, and it’s more likely that he will continue ignoring them. But now that the situation has become distinctly political, perhaps things will be different. She wouldn’t know.

Her niangzi echoes her thoughts. “You seem very certain of that. Is there something you know that we don’t? Some information gathered by Su-guogong?” The note of challenge in her voice is clear to anyone paying attention.

“Yes,” Xue-niangzi replies, calm and flawless. “As I mentioned as well, Su-guogong keeps tabs on all the major families in the capital. Speaking of which,” she gentles her voice and continues, “Now that you’re returning home, your father will likely attempt to brush you under the rug. Ji Shuran will do all she can to either control or remove you again. You have to start thinking about what you wish to do, going forwards, and how much of their interference you’re willing to accept.”

A chill shivers down Tong’er’s spine, and she lets her eyes drift across the entire courtyard. The place is empty, except for the five of them. And surely, if Xue-niangzi’s handmaid and guard aren’t either trustworthy or already aware of it, she wouldn’t have brought this topic up in front of them.

Niangzi’s gaze is turned inwards, likely lost in thought. Tong’er takes a deep breath. “Back at the hall, you told Niangzi that Ji Shuran committed other crimes against the Jiang family.”

“Ah,” Xue-niangzi just says, even as Niangzi’s focus snaps back to the conversation, eyes locked on the other lady’s face. Xue-niangzi puts her bowl and chopsticks down, and Tong’er and her niangzi follow suit. None of their food has been touched yet, anyway.

She’s extremely glad that there’s nothing in her stomach, once Xue-niangzi lays out everything she knows about the murders of Jiang Yue and Ye Zhenzhen.

Tears are streaming down Niangzi’s pale face. “She– My mother…” she mumbles, and falls silent. Her hand is gripping Tong’er’s arm so hard that she will undoubtedly find bruises later.

Tong’er lays her other hand on her niangzi’s, and holds on just as tight. “You said all of this information was given to you by Su-guogong?” she asks Xue-niangzi. She has to make sure, for her niangzi’s sake. “He was just a child, when all of that happened.” Her own voice is wavering.

“Su-guogong’s intelligence network is not to be underestimated,” the lady replies. She almost sounds apologetic. “He also has an undercover agent permanently assigned to the Jiangs. His name is Zhao Ke; you will meet him after you return to the Jiang manor. If either of you require urgent assistance, you can summon him with this,” she says, and hands Tong’er a small whistle. A quick glance sideways lets Tong’er see that Niangzi has removed herself from the conversation, face lowered.

Carefully tucking the whistle into her robes, Tong’er contemplates the many evasions Xue-niangzi has attempted in this morning’s conversation alone. She wonders how hard she should push. Wonders if she’s acting ungrateful for the assistance that Xue-niangzi and Su-guogong provided them.

The lady chuckles softly. There’s approval and something else in her eyes when she says, “Don’t worry. Ask your questions.”

Tong’er grimaces, but forges onward. “How long has this… Zhao Ke been assigned to the Jiang family?”

“Around seven years, as far as I’m aware.”

“That’s not long enough to know things from over a decade ago.”

Xue-niangzi smiles again. Tong’er can’t tell what kind of smile it is. “Zhao Ke is far from the only information source Su-guogong has on the Jiangs,” the lady says. “As I myself have found out over the past few months, information is easy to obtain when you dig for it in the right ways, even if it is supposedly buried and forgotten.” A small pause, and the corners of Xue-niangzi’s eyes curve. “I am aware that I am being… cagey, about how we know what we do. But surely you understand that Su-guogong’s sources must be carefully guarded. It is up to you two to decide how much you trust what I’ve told you.”

We, Xue-niangzi said. How we know what we do. Is this word choice significant?

“You’re right,” Tong’er allows, with a small dip of her head. “Thank you for humouring me.”

Xue-niangzi waves it away, a kind of stiffness to her hand. It might be that odd sentiment she holds for Tong’er, or it might be the white bandages under her sleeve that Tong’er caught a glimpse of. Tong’er can’t quite tell.

The conversation finally stalls, and a soft murmur from her handmaid prods Xue-niangzi into eating. Tong’er does the same for her niangzi, all the while wondering if she should try to make friends with the other handmaid. Their relationships with other noble ladies at the maiden’s hall have always been too antagonistic for that, but perhaps it would be to her niangzi’s benefit here?

She doesn’t even know the other handmaid’s name yet.

They’re nearly finished with their meal when Niangzi speaks up. “I’m going back home and revealing all of Ji Shuran’s crimes to the public. I want justice for my mother,” she says, almost too loud, conviction growing stronger with each word.

“Good,” Xue-niangzi says, the word heavy in the air. “Remember, Su-guogong and his resources will always be your safety net. If you need anything, just ask.”

Tong’er’s hands tighten around her utensils. The assistance seems… dubious. If Su-guogong has left the Jiang family’s injustices unaddressed until now, what could possibly motivate him to finally aid her niangzi in what amounts to toppling the Jis, and tarnishing the Jiangs’ reputation? The heavy shadow of political intrigue looms over them, and Tong’er is almost certain that her niangzi remains unaware of it, too emotional by far. She’ll have to raise her concerns with her later.

“I also have an offer of, perhaps, an unusual nature,” Xue-niangzi continues. “While I do not have the same resources that Su-guogong has, I am willing to tutor the two of you in literature and calligraphy, and in playing the qin. Not just until you return home in the following weeks, but afterwards as well. While they are not exactly life-saving skills, they will be useful in improving your reputation and increasing your leverage in the capital, or even to make money if you ever find yourself in need of it.”

Niangzi’s head tilts quizzically. “How will you tutor us after I return to the Jiang manor? I do not mean to be rude, but I doubt my father will accept a tutor with no credentials.”

Mischief flashes across Xue-niangzi’s face. And Tong’er knows she’s good at reading expressions, had to get good at it, but this is the first obvious emotion she’s been able to read from Xue-niangzi.

“That is why we’ll be doing this in secret. I can sneak over to the Jiang manor for literature, and we can bring you back here for the qin, so no one hears us.” Xue-niangzi pauses. “I tried to suggest going with you to the Jiang manor long-term as another handmaid, so that I can help you in person, but Su-guogong shot that idea down.”

Huh. That’s interesting to know, in a variety of ways.

“That’s… a bit extreme,” Niangzi hedges. “Why are you so invested in helping us even after Su-guogong wraps up his cases?”

The lady lowers her eyes. “I find myself touched by the similarities in our situations. And I am… lacking, in friendships. My former husband and his family isolated me from the social scene in the capital, ever since we moved here.”

Tong’er can tell that her niangzi is already charmed. Maybe even from the very start, when the two ladies met back on Qingcheng Mountain. It’s a lost cause.

Oh well. She can be the one who keeps looking out for traps. Either way, ties to Su-guogong will always prove useful, and they are currently not in any position to refuse assistance, no matter how suspicious, or the invisible debts attached.

They’ll be fine. She’ll make it so.

Surprisingly, the tutoring does work as Xue-niangzi suggested. Zhao Ke helps them sneak in and out, and even with the two maids that Ji Shuran sent to spy on them, they do manage to start catching up on the decade of literary and musical education that Niangzi missed out on.

It’s a pleasant bonus, to be able to learn alongside her niangzi.

Xue-niangzi also occasionally provides them with information that becomes immensely useful in navigating the deep waters of the Jiang family and their allies. Tong’er wonders how much of what they’re doing aligns with Su-guogong’s political goals – but it doesn’t really matter, in the end. Su-guogong and Xue-niangzi’s interventions always keep her niangzi safe. Niangzi even starts calling the other lady jiejie.

And however reluctant Tong’er is to admit it, she does start warming up to Xue-niangzi as well. Not just for everything she did for them, but also how the other lady opens up and becomes increasingly genuine with the two of them in turn. Tong’er assumes she is walking out of the miasma that her former husband’s actions laid her in. Vaguely, Tong’er wonders what Xue-niangzi was like before. More cheerful, maybe?

There is, in addition, definitely something going on between Su-guogong and Xue-niangzi, with the way he hovers at her side at the guogong manor, his eyes perpetually stuck on her face. He only leaves when Xue-niangzi shoos him away to begin their qin lessons, and he never goes far.

Tong’er wishes them the best, considering that Xue-niangzi’s identity and past experience with partners is… complicated. She also almost starts hoping her own niangzi would meet someone as dedicated to her as Su-guogong is to Xue-niangzi.

Sometimes, Tong’er doubts that returning to the Jiang manor is the right thing for Niangzi. She could have a much more carefree and danger-free life elsewhere, and not have to arduously wade through emotionally murky interactions with all the family members who abandoned her.

Leaving would be entirely feasible; she’s sure Xue-niangzi and Su-guogong would help, if they asked. Ten years at the maiden’s hall means that neither of them have pampered egos that must be catered to, unlike the rest of their family and their servants, or the many nobles they meet. But her niangzi is dead set on revealing the corruption at the core of the Jiang family.

And despite all of her doubts, Tong’er will follow her niangzi wherever she goes.

Chapter Text

a while back i had to listen to a recording of a two-hour-long committee meeting for work and i literally started nodding off, so i doodled this to keep myself awake while i listened!

(apologies if anyone’s using a horizontal display, i set the image width as 100% of the screen)