Chapter 65

Proofreader : Mim

Before dawn had even broken, Li Zhi entered the palace to clock in for her first day of duty.

The guards stationed at the city gate inspected her token of authority. With a slight tilt of their chins, they gestured for her to pass through.

Once inside the palace gates, everyone was required to proceed on foot. From Cheng’an Gate, where she disembarked, it would take her the time of two incense sticks to walk to the women officials’ office—the nearest path available.

The system of female officials served the empress, operating as a microcosm of the imperial court itself. The official office for women, while similar in design to a standard government office, featured delicate touches of elegance and grace in its finer details.

Li Zhi’s official position, Sizheng of the sixth rank, placed her under the jurisdiction of the Palace Regulations Bureau (Gongzheng Si). Her primary duty was to assist her superior, the Palace Supervisor (Gongzheng), in overseeing and enforcing palace rules. This entailed monitoring the behavior of palace maids and concubines alike.

However, most of the time, the Palace Regulations Bureau turned a blind eye to concubines’ transgressions—after all, who could predict who might gain favor tomorrow?

Given that the primary targets of her supervision were palace maids, a post in the Palace Regulations Bureau naturally garnered her the respect and goodwill of the majority of the palace’s female attendants.

By the end of her first day, Li Zhi had already gained a good understanding of her superior, Director Ma, and her preferences.

Director Ma, the current Gongzheng, had only two more years before she would retire from service. Her conduct suggested that she wanted nothing more than to peacefully see out these remaining years. Underneath her, there were two Sizheng positions: one occupied by Li Zhi and the other by a colleague who now viewed Li Zhi’s arrival as a potential threat to her promotion. As a result, this colleague maintained a distant and lukewarm attitude toward her.

The workload within the Palace Regulations Bureau was heavy, a fact Li Zhi quickly came to experience firsthand.

Her first day was marked by an endless series of incidents:

• A young palace maid unfamiliar with the extensive rulebook inadvertently violated a regulation and was reported to the bureau by someone with ulterior motives.
• Disputes between two or more palace maids escalated, requiring the bureau to intervene and mediate.
• A low-ranking concubine offended a higher-ranking one, leading the latter to use the bureau as a weapon to levy trumped-up charges against her subordinate rival.

By the time Li Zhi’s first day was over, she had already witnessed a great deal of such palace intrigue.

From the moment she entered the palace before sunrise until her departure at dusk, she hadn’t had a moment to eat a single bite of food.

Among the female officials in the palace, Li Zhi was unique in that she was permitted to reside outside the palace. Yet, to make a show of saying goodbye to her colleagues—particularly those bound to the palace—might give the impression of flaunting her special privilege, stirring resentment among them.

Thus, Li Zhi only informed Director Ma of her departure and quietly exited the Palace Regulations Bureau.

Retracing her steps to Cheng’an Gate, she found a row of carriages and horses awaiting their masters near the dismounting stone. Locating her own carriage, she was about to board when the window of the carriage parked beside hers suddenly slid open, revealing a pale, aloof face.

“…Your Highness?” Li Zhi blurted out in surprise.

Xie Lanxu sat within the carriage, his expression calm as he looked at her.

“Get in,” he said.

The coachman of Xie Lanxu’s carriage quickly moved to place a stepping stool for her, but Xie Lanxu leaned out from the carriage door and extended his hand directly toward her.

Grasping his hand, Li Zhi used the leverage to step lightly into the carriage.

Once inside, she asked, still surprised, “Ah-Li, what are you doing here?”

“Convenient,” Xie Lanxu replied with a glance, as if she’d asked a foolish question. “I work in the palace too. Have you forgotten?”

Li Zhi fell silent, at a loss for words.

The Ministry of Justice office where Xie Lanxu worked was indeed located within the palace grounds. However, the imperial palace was divided into the outer court and the inner court. His position was in the outer court, and the quickest route home would have been to exit via Chunyu Gate and return to his Prince residence. For him to “coincidentally” encounter her here at Cheng’an Gate, he would have had to deliberately detour after leaving Chunyu Gate, circling all the way back to this gate.

But Xie Lanxu had already claimed it was “convenient.” Could she really call him out for waiting for her on purpose?

Smiling accommodatingly, she said, “I must be so busy I’ve become muddled…”

“Clearly,” Xie Lanxu remarked. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“The Prince Langya Mansion.”

And so, Li Zhi, who had just finished her shift and was ready to return home, found herself intercepted at the palace gate and, without any clear explanation, was brought to Prince Langya’s Mansion.

The Prince Langya                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 Mansion was originally the residence of a prominent general from the previous Cui Dynasty. After the general fell out of favor and his property was confiscated, the grand and luxurious estate remained vacant until the founding of the Yan Dynasty, when it was repurposed into a royal residence and bestowed upon Xie Lanxu.

Unlike the Li Residence, with its soft and poetic riverside charm, Prince Langya’s Mansion exuded a somber and austere atmosphere. Each building and courtyard was named after constellations, a convention from its time as a general’s estate, which Xie Lanxu had preserved without alteration.

From the grand front gates to the main courtyard, Li Zhi saw no sign of any attendants except the gatekeepers. Even ordinary wealthy Mansions had a dozen or so servants, let alone a royal estate.

It wasn’t until they reached the main courtyard that Li Zhi finally spotted some maids—two familiar faces, Taozi and Xigua.

Unable to resist, she asked about the lack of staff, only for Xie Lanxu to reply with three simple words: “I’m used to it.”

He led her into his bedroom, which was just as sparse as the rest of the estate. With only the bare essentials of furniture, it reminded her of the Bamboo Courtyard back in Mingyue Tower.

After leading her around the room, Xie Lanxu said nothing and walked back out.

It was only then that Li Zhi, belatedly, had an incredulous thought: Could he be… giving her a tour of her “future home”?

Her guess wasn’t wrong. Xie Lanxu ended up showing her nearly the entire Prince Langya’s Mansion.

When they returned to the main courtyard, the dining table had already been set with steaming tea and a four-tiered lacquered octagonal food box.

“Eat,” Xie Lanxu said, taking a seat at the table.

“This is…” Li Zhi hesitated.

“Judging by your complexion, you haven’t eaten all day,” he said matter-of-factly. “There’s no chef here, so I had someone buy the signature dishes from a restaurant.”

After leaving the palace, Li Zhi’s stomach had been aching from hunger, but she had hidden her discomfort well, planning to eat something simple once she got home.

She hadn’t expected that Xie Lanxu would not only notice but also prepare food for her in advance.

“Try it and see if it suits your taste,” Xie Lanxu said.

Li Zhi opened the food box, and Xie Lanxu’s gaze remained fixed on her, observing her reaction.

The first layer was filled with delicate desserts: golden cakes, creamy white grapes, candied green plums, and almond-scented pastries. The second layer held various appetizers, including crisp mushroom-stuffed cabbage, spicy shredded chicken, and refreshing pickled cucumbers. The third layer featured main dishes: golden roast pigeon, aromatic lotus root pork rib soup, and more. The final layer held staple foods: steamed buns and fragrant rice.

As she uncovered each layer, Li Zhi couldn’t help but swallow involuntarily.

Without hesitation, she picked up a pigeon drumstick with her chopsticks.

Unexpectedly, she offered it to Xie Lanxu first, holding it up with a mischievous smile.

“Ah-Li, open your mouth—”

Startled, Xie Lanxu instinctively obeyed, opening his mouth before realizing what he was doing.

Li Zhi happily fed him the drumstick before taking a bite of the pigeon herself, looking as though she had accomplished something significant.

Xie Lanxu, now aware of what had happened, silently chewed the drumstick in his mouth.

“Is it good?” Li Zhi asked, tilting her head at him.

Xie Lanxu nodded.

“…I think it’s delicious too,” Li Zhi said with a bright smile. “Maybe because Ah-Li is here.”

She served two bowls of rice, handed one to Xie Lanxu, and insisted he eat with her.

After half-heartedly refusing once, Xie Lanxu found himself silenced by a piece of lotus root, and he ultimately stayed to accompany her for the meal.

When the meal was finished, the sun had long dipped below the horizon, leaving behind a crescent moon that hung high in the skies over the capital.

The night sky in the capital was always murky, with faint stars that seemed perpetually dim.

It was nothing like the breathtaking sky that stretched across the skies above Mingyue Tower.

Two years ago, Li Zhi would never have imagined she would one day yearn for the vast skies of Mingyue Tower.

She held a cup of hot tea in her hands, gazing at the night sky from beneath the corridor. Beside her, Xie Lanxu suddenly spoke, “Two days from now is the Winter Solstice, and the court has a one-day holiday.”

The seemingly random statement caught Li Zhi off guard, leaving her unsure how to respond. She mumbled a vague “Mm” to fill the silence.

“I’ve heard,” Xie Lanxu continued, speaking slowly, “that on the Winter Solstice, one must eat lamb hotpot. If not, they’ll die with no body left intact in the coming year.”

Li Zhi: “…”

Where did this absurdly ominous saying come from? Was this an Eastern Palace specialty?

“My Mansion has no one who knows how to make lamb hotpot,” Xie Lanxu said, his expression tinged with mock melancholy.

…Got it.

Li Zhi couldn’t help but laugh. “I was already planning to invite you over to my residence for lamb hotpot and rice cakes on Winter Solstice. Hotpot is only fun when there’s a crowd to share it. Ah-Li wouldn’t turn me down, would you?”

“In that case,” Xie Lanxu accepted readily, “I’ll graciously intrude.”

After taking a sip of his tea, he added, “Since Banban is treating me to hotpot, I’ll treat you to some surprise—as an appetizer for the evening meal.”

“What kind of surprise?” Li Zhi asked curiously.

…

The “surprise” Xie Lanxu had in mind was beyond what ordinary people might imagine.

On the day of Zhu Jing’s funeral procession, coinciding with the Winter Solstice holiday, Li Zhi arrived at the gates of the Zhu family mansion in the afternoon.

Zhu Qinghai, the master of the Zhu Mansion, was a third-rank Minister of Rites who oversaw the imperial examination system. Naturally, countless individuals sought to curry favor with him.

The Zhu residence was teeming with people.

If not for the white lanterns hanging at the entrance, one might have mistaken the gathering for a grand birthday banquet.

Li Zhi handed over her condolence gift to the steward at the gate and stated her identity. She was allowed entry without difficulty.

Although she had no connection to the Zhu family, she wasn’t the only one attending the funeral to pay “respects” with ulterior motives. Blending in with the crowd, she didn’t appear out of place.

As she made her way through the mansion, she searched for Xie Lanxu. A familiar figure soon called out to her—it was Taozi, one of Xie Lanxu’s maids.

Under Taozi’s guidance, Li Zhi found Xie Lanxu seated in a secluded pavilion.

Somehow, he had chosen the perfect spot—quiet and unassuming, yet with a vantage point that allowed a clear view of the ancestral hall through the intersecting corridors and veiling branches.

Seated inside the pavilion, Xie Lanxu exuded his usual calm demeanor. As if by habit, he extended a hand to Li Zhi. She grasped it, and with a gentle tug, he pulled her down to sit beside him.

“That man over there is Zhu Qinghai, the Minister of Rites,” Xie Lanxu said, nodding toward the elderly figure at the ancestral hall. “As for the man beside him, I’m sure he needs no introduction.”

Li Zhi followed his gaze to see an elderly man with gray hair and wrinkled skin, surrounded by a crowd of mourners.

Standing beside Zhu Qinghai, dressed in unusually subdued attire, was Prince Jing, Xie Jingtan.

Zhu Qinghai looked genuinely grief-stricken, his eyes swollen and red. His sorrow seemed genuine, not an act. Whatever Xie Jingtan was saying to him, it brought Zhu Qinghai to tears once more, forcing him to wipe his face with his sleeve. Xie Jingtan patted his shoulder in consolation.

“This is the surprise you mentioned?” Li Zhi asked.

“To watch the show, you’ll need to help me with something first,” Xie Lanxu replied.

Li Zhi had anticipated as much. There was no way Xie Lanxu would drag her along to a funeral just for entertainment.

After hearing his request, Li Zhi understood that he had come with a specific purpose—and that bringing her along was no accident.

The two split up to carry out their respective tasks.

For Li Zhi, Xie Lanxu’s assignment wasn’t particularly difficult. She was naturally adept at winning people over.

Half an hour later, she placed a stick of incense before Zhu Jing’s coffin, completing her task. Just as she was about to leave the ancestral hall and report back to Xie Lanxu, a young servant suddenly burst into the hall in a panic.

“Master, bad news! The woodshed is on fire!”

“What?!” Zhu Qinghai exclaimed, visibly alarmed. “Hurry and put it out!”

News of a fire in the estate caused a stir among the mourners, many of whom panicked and rushed toward the exits.

The woodshed and the ancestral hall were both located in the front courtyard. If the fire wasn’t controlled, it could very well spread to the hall. Even Zhu Qinghai knew the situation was critical. He immediately ensured Prince Jing’s safety, escorting him to a secure location outside.

Li Zhi was about to leave as well when Xie Lanxu appeared out of nowhere.

“Ah-Li! Hurry, the woodshed is on fire—”

Xie Lanxu responded with his usual composure, “I know.”

It dawned on Li Zhi then why the woodshed had suddenly caught fire.

As she kept a wary eye on the surroundings, watching for anyone entering the ancestral hall, she saw Xie Lanxu calmly approach Zhu Jing’s coffin and open it without hesitation.

“What are you doing?!” Li Zhi asked, incredulous.

“Looking at the deceased,” Xie Lanxu replied, glancing at her. “Do you want to see?”

Li Zhi: “…”

No thanks.

Fearing that someone might come in at any moment to check on the hall, Li Zhi repeatedly urged him to hurry. Finally, Xie Lanxu closed the coffin and exited the hall with Li Zhi as if nothing had happened.

Outside, the Zhu family servants were all busy putting out the fire, while Zhu Qinghai and Xie Jingtan had long since retreated to safe place.

No one noticed the two figures casually walking out from the ancestral hall.

“What did you see?” Li Zhi asked.

“The Ministry of Justice’s autopsy report stated that Zhu Jing died from a blow to the back of the head, resulting in a fractured skull. However, the corpse inside the coffin had a wide-open mouth, a purplish-blue complexion, and bulging eyes. There were also ten distinct finger marks on his neck.”

“You’re saying Zhu Jing was strangled to death?” Li Zhi asked in shock.

“If Zhu Jing was strangled,” Xie Lanxu said, “how could a frail woman like Bai Xiuxiu have strangled a man weighing 180 pounds?”

The question left Li Zhi deep in thought.

“This just got interesting,” Xie Lanxu said with a faint smile.

As the chaos in the Zhu residence unfolded, the two slipped out unnoticed. Once seated in their carriage, Xie Lanxu pulled out a handkerchief and meticulously wiped his hands, which had touched the coffin earlier.

“Now, tell me,” he said nonchalantly, “what did you discover?”