As May drew to a close, a torrential rainstorm swept across the capital.
The rain began before dawn during the fifth watch, drenching the bluestone roads outside Zhengyang Gate. Then, by daybreak, it suddenly stopped.
Sunlight spilled through gaps in the clouds, illuminating the wet glazed roof tiles until they shimmered brilliantly.
Steam rose from the streets, carrying the sweet, faintly pungent scent of pagoda tree blossoms soaked by rain. The air felt heavy and humid.
Gu Jinzhao stood beneath the corridor, watching Qing Pu direct the young maids as they carried boxes and trunks outside.
A few days earlier, her grandmother had sent a letter from Jiangnan, saying that the plums there had ripened. Ten jars of freshly pickled plum paste had been sealed, and several sets of summer clothing had been made for Jinzhao. Everything had been shipped to the capital aboard a merchant vessel.
That morning, a message arrived from the docks.
The ship had reached Tongzhou, and someone from the residence needed to go collect the cargo.
“Those two boxes contain medicinal herbs Grandmother prepared for Mother. Send them to the main courtyard first.”
Gu Jinzhao pointed toward several tightly sealed wooden crates in the courtyard before turning to Qing Pu.
“As for the box containing the summer clothing, move it to my room. We can unpack it later.”
Qing Pu acknowledged the order and was about to head toward the main courtyard when she suddenly turned back.
Pulling a letter from her sleeve, she handed it over.
“Miss, the gatekeeper received this earlier. There’s no signature. It only says it’s for the Eldest Miss.”
Gu Jinzhao accepted the letter and opened it.
Only a few lines were written on the paper.
The handwriting was so neat it was almost rigid.
Yet the final character, Ji, had been written with unusual force, as though the writer had deliberately pressed down on the final stroke before lifting the brush.
To Miss Gu,
It is an old matter that the Ji family of Jiangnan is a distinguished household, sharing my surname but not my lineage. Recently, I heard that a shipment belonging to the Ji family arrived in the capital from Yangzhou. It carried Suzhou brocade and this year’s fresh plum paste. The customs declaration was filed under the name of Gu Family Residence.
Perhaps Miss Gu is unaware that the old contract personally signed and sealed by your late grandfather has another copy in the capital.
If you should have leisure someday, we may meet at Qingfeng Academy in the northern district. I shall prepare tea and await your arrival.
— Ji
The letter trembled slightly between her fingers.
She knew that although her grandfather had long passed away, the Ji family’s enterprises were still managed by her grandmother. Every transaction was legitimate and aboveboard.
But Ji Minzhong was not talking about merchandise.
He was talking about an old contract signed by her grandfather.
She recalled how, at the back mountain of Fuguang Temple, Ji Minzhong had casually placed a purple bamboo leaf atop a stone lantern.
The old fox was not threatening her.
He was laying his cards on the table.
And by preparing tea at Qingfeng Academy, he had calculated perfectly that she would go.
She folded the letter and slipped it back into her sleeve.
Looking up, she studied the sky.
The rain-washed heavens were so clear they seemed almost transparent.
The sun had already moved to the south.
Beyond the courtyard wall, the cicadas perched in the old scholar trees finally sang their first cry of the year.
Sharp.
High-pitched.
Drawn out.
After a single call, silence returned.
“Qing Pu.”
She called softly.
“Prepare the carriage.”
Henan Circuit Supervisory Censor Office.
The window facing the rear gate of the Ministry of Personnel stood open.
The hot afternoon wind poured into the room, rustling the documents spread across the desk.
Ye Xian pressed a hand onto the papers to keep them from blowing away.
Yet his gaze remained fixed on the narrow corridor outside.
No one was there.
Ji Minzhong had reported illness and taken leave.
Wu An had also vanished.
But moments earlier, Xu Jingting had sent word.
A new official appointment approved by the Right Vice Censor-in-Chief of the Censorate had arrived.
An additional title had been placed upon him:
Acting Supervisory Censor of Jiangnan Circuit.
Jiangnan.
Not part of his original duties.
A promotion in name, but more importantly, a hidden grant of authority.
The Ji family was rooted in Jiangnan.
Much of Ji Minzhong’s business interests were there as well.
The timing of this appointment was too perfect.
“So perfect,” Ye Xian said as he tossed the document onto the desk, “that it feels like he’s preparing an escape route for himself.”
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“If the Jiangnan account books are going to be investigated, he’s more anxious than either of us.”
Xu Jingting sat fanning himself.
His expression was far less relaxed than the fan in his hand.
“You think he’s using your blade to cut down the Ji family’s foundations in Jiangnan?”
“No.”
Ye Xian leaned back.
“To watch.”
“Watch what?”
“Watch which side I move against first.”
His voice remained calm.
“The ancestral estate or the private residences.”
“He gives me authority over Jiangnan and then sends people to monitor my movements.”
“Whether I go east or west, he’ll have enough time to clean up whatever needs cleaning.”
“So you’re not going to Jiangnan?”
“Not yet.”
Ye Xian pulled out the inventory list of the lacquer box Ji Minzhong had hidden with the Zhao family and handed it over.
The celadon bottle inside.
The final incomplete figures recorded in the falsified account books.
Neither matched the death contract left behind by Ji Minzhong’s father-in-law in Jiangnan.
The discrepancy was large enough to destroy another Ji family entirely.
But until he obtained verification from both the Ministry of Justice and the Ministry of Revenue, he would not move.
Xu Jingting reviewed the list before handing it back.
“As for Qingfeng Academy, those students who caused trouble were merely disciplined by their families.”
He frowned.
“Too many coincidences.”
Ye Xian remained silent.
His fingers tapped lightly against the desk twice.
A habit he had whenever a judgment was still forming.
Suddenly, he rose and walked toward the window.
Outside, someone had appeared in the corridor beyond the Censorate wall.
A figure wearing a sky-blue patterned jacket moved swiftly forward.
The wind lifted her skirt, revealing the pale moon-white hem beneath.
A maid in indigo followed behind, carrying a bundle.
Ye Xian turned and headed for the door immediately.
Only when he reached it did he toss over his shoulder:
“Jingting, handle any follow-up reports from the academy for me.”
Xu Jingting had not even finished closing his fan before Ye Xian disappeared.
Gu Jinzhao was led into the side room where Ye Xian usually rested.
The first thing she did was place Ji Minzhong’s letter on the desk.
Then she sat down and recounted everything.
Her tone remained calm throughout.
Yet when she repeated the line inviting her to Qingfeng Academy, her fingers unconsciously curled.
She omitted one detail.
The old servant who reported the shipment’s temporary seizure at Tongzhou docks had accidentally revealed something else.
Among the brocade shipment was a lacquer box bearing the exact same seal as the oilcloth-wrapped package found behind Fuguang Temple.
She was not deliberately hiding the information.
She simply wanted to hear Ye Xian’s thoughts first.
Ye Xian read the letter from beginning to end.
Then he folded it and returned it to the envelope.
He neither questioned why she had come to report the matter nor immediately answered whether she should go.
Instead, he walked to a bookshelf.
From the highest shelf, he retrieved a black lacquered box.
Opening it, he removed a thin booklet and placed it before her.
“The title of Supervisory Censor of Jiangnan Circuit has been added to my duties.”
A faint smile touched his lips.
“A promotion on the surface. Authority beneath.”
“Ji Minzhong has very few allies in court. Northern Pacifying Marquis Mansion hid lacquer boxes and records for him only because they held leverage over one another.”
“If he doesn’t prepare an escape route himself, no one else will.”
“He recommended me to investigate Jiangnan’s accounts. A clever move.”
“Changxing Marquis Residence has monitored the Ji family businesses for over half a year.”
“He believes the death contract left behind by his father-in-law isn’t clean. That’s why he hurriedly moved the game to Qingfeng Academy.”
Gu Jinzhao looked directly at him.
“So Qingfeng Academy isn’t his weak point.”
Her thoughts flashed to the shipment delayed at Tongzhou.
“His weak point is the death contract connected to his wife’s family.”
“Using me to distract attention.”
“Delaying the time you need to obtain verification from Jiangnan.”
For the briefest moment, approval flickered in Ye Xian’s gaze.
“So he intends to light a fire at Qingfeng Academy first.”
“When the flames spread toward Jiangnan, he can shift responsibility to the officials who handled the records five years ago.”
“Then he escapes.”
He dipped a finger into tea and drew a line across the desk.
“That is why he invited you.”
“He wants to force my hand.”
“If you refuse to go, he’ll claim you’re guilty.”
“If you go, your grandmother’s businesses become his second scapegoat.”
“Even if he’s exposed, he can claim everything was done by the Ji family in Jiangnan.”
“I’ll go.”
Her voice was so soft that the wind nearly carried it away.
Ye Xian looked up.
“He wants to see my attitude.”
“He wants to know whether I’ll be pressured.”
“Whether I’ll arrive alone or with the backing of Changxing Marquis Residence.”
Fire seemed to dance within her eyes.
“But I’m not going alone.”
“My position is perfectly clear.”
“My grandmother’s maiden surname is Wu. She married into the Ji family. Our family has always been upright.”
“Ji Minzhong shares the surname Ji but not the bloodline.”
“He thinks two contracts are enough to burn both families together.”
“He sees me as a chess piece because he thinks the board consists only of the Ministry of Personnel and the Imperial Stud Court.”
“He doesn’t realize that I possess something far older than any contract.”
For a moment, Ye Xian looked away.
His thumb brushed the crookedly embroidered character on the old pouch resting beside him.
“I can’t access the death contracts through the Censorate.”
“But the Ministry of Justice archives contain the property verification records from that year.”
He retrieved another thin booklet with a blue cloth cover.
Inside was a dried purple bamboo leaf.
The veins had long turned brown and brittle.
A sheet of wax paper protected it carefully.
Ye Xian picked up a brush and wrote a single character beneath it:
Brocade.
Then he pushed the booklet and his still-wet seal mark toward her.
“Take this with you.”
“If negotiations fail, leave using the carriage outside.”
“I’ll be there too.”
He paused awkwardly.
“I’m not worried about you. It’s just that the academy is far away. Waiting by the back mountain isn’t convenient.”
The excuse came too quickly.
Too stiffly.
Gu Jinzhao lowered her head to the bamboo leaf and suppressed a smile.
The corners of her lips still curved upward.
Outside the city.
Qingfeng Academy.
The academy rested halfway up a northern hillside, backed by a dense bamboo forest.
Not ordinary green bamboo.
Purple bamboo.
Tall stalks with dark violet skin.
When the wind passed through, the leaves rustled with a deeper, heavier sound than ordinary bamboo.
Like distant chanting.
Ji Minzhong waited outside the grove.
He wore no official robes.
Only a plain dark-blue Daoist robe.
The sandalwood prayer beads remained in his hand.
His smile remained warm and gentle.
A plate of vegetarian pastries and two cups of tea rested upon the stone table beside him.
The tea was Longjing.
Steam curled upward through the shadows.
“Miss Gu has indeed come.”
He gestured toward the seat.
Gu Jinzhao did not sit.
“Official Ji.”
She bowed.
“The letter mentioned a contract signed by my grandfather. I came to seek clarification.”
Ji Minzhong smiled and produced a contract from his sleeve.
The paper had yellowed with age.
The edges were worn.
Yet both the handwriting and seal unmistakably belonged to her grandfather.
It was a property transfer agreement from thirty years ago.
The land was located in Wujiang.
“I happened to discover this document among old records.”
He took a sip of tea.
“Your grandfather was a notable figure in Jiangnan.”
“If this contract were used by someone with ulterior motives, it could implicate—”
He let the sentence trail off.
His voice remained as warm as spring wind.
“I did not invite you here to cause trouble.”
“I simply wish to make a friend.”
“Miss Gu is intelligent enough to understand what I mean.”
Gu Jinzhao lowered her eyes toward the contract.
Without an official seal, it held little value.
He had not chosen this battlefield because the contract itself could overturn anything.
He wanted the possibility of overturning something.
A bargaining chip.
Then she suddenly said something completely unrelated.
“The eastern wall of the academy isn’t far from this bamboo grove.”
She looked directly at him.
“I’ve heard certain things were carved there. Official Ji should know more than I do.”
Ji Minzhong’s fingers stopped moving over the prayer beads.
For a single moment.
Footsteps sounded from outside the grove.
Measured.
Steady.
A figure in sky-blue robes emerged through the bamboo shadows.
Ye Xian stepped onto the clearing path.
A blue-cloth booklet rested in his hand.
The white jade bracelet on Gu Jinzhao’s wrist gleamed softly beneath the bamboo shade, matching the jade pendant hanging at his waist.
He stopped beside the stone table.
“Official Ji.”
His tone was as casual as discussing the weather.
“Whatever you wish to say, why not repeat it in front of this Heir Apparent?”
Ji Minzhong set down his teacup.
His smile remained unchanged.
But the speed of the prayer beads slowed.
Eight steps.
Exactly eight.
From the grove entrance to the stone table.
He had arrived earlier than anyone realized.
“The jade was very pure.”
His gaze rested briefly on the bracelet around Gu Jinzhao’s wrist.
“It was better suited as a bracelet than a pendant.”
Then he looked toward Ye Xian.
“You arrived faster than I expected.”
“Your investigations around the northern district have been quite thorough.”
“Since you’ve brought Miss Gu here, I assume you’ve found what you were looking for.”
Ye Xian said nothing.
The wind whispered through the bamboo.
Finally, he placed the blue-cloth booklet upon the table.
Not lightly.
Not heavily.
Just enough for a page corner to lift in the breeze.
“I recently found some old records.”
He met Ji Minzhong’s eyes.
“One states that a certain property in Wujiang was transferred to your wife’s younger brother five years ago.”
“While you invite people for tea at the academy, the Censorate can retrieve your father-in-law’s death contracts.”
“As for Miss Gu’s grandfather, his property divisions in Wujiang were settled thirty years ago.”
“All verification records remain intact at the Ministry of Revenue.”
He glanced at the incomplete contract.
“Rather than using an unsealed piece of paper to invite guests for tea, perhaps Official Ji should first reconcile the discrepancies in your father-in-law’s accounts.”
For the first time, Ji Minzhong’s smile faded.
Not into embarrassment.
Into understanding.
A man slowly removing half a mask.
“Impressive.”
Those words were not directed at Ye Xian.
They were directed at Gu Jinzhao.
He had brought a contract.
She had brought the Censorate.
Before the tea even cooled, he had already been checkmated.
He walked away.
After nine steps, he suddenly stopped.
Near his feet lay an abandoned patch of soil among exposed bamboo roots.
Embedded in the dirt was a weathered roof tile eaten away by insects.
Upon it remained half of a faded character:
Ji.
As though someone had discarded it there long ago.
“Many students have copied the inscriptions in the purple bamboo grove.”
He looked away from the fragment.
“No one ever paid attention to the broken tile beneath the western wall.”
Light filtered through the bamboo leaves and rested upon his brow.
“Since Heir Apparent Ye investigates so thoroughly, I imagine you’ll soon discover who was truly responsible for the deaths of those three hundred people in Xuzhou six years ago.”
“Farewell.”
The rustling bamboo swallowed his footsteps.
Soon he vanished into the depths of the grove.
Gu Jinzhao watched his dark-blue figure disappear among the purple bamboo.
The scent of Longjing tea lingered in the damp air.
“So it was Xuzhou.”
She turned toward Ye Xian.
“He always knew you’d reopen that old case.”
“He came here today not to see me.”
Ye Xian lowered his eyes.
“He used my father’s impeachment as bait.”
“He wanted me to reveal the archive myself.”
“Returning the bamboo leaf today confirmed that I already possessed the booklet.”
“He chose Qingfeng Academy because he wanted us to know he could still move first on someone else’s chessboard.”
Then his finger pointed toward a faint fresh mark near his own seal.
“But he overlooked one thing.”
“When he questioned you, he never looked at the table.”
“I moved one step.”
“He didn’t notice.”
Gu Jinzhao leaned closer.
A fresh line of writing had been added.
The ink was still wet.
She bent down and gently blew upon it.
A few strands of hair slipped loose from behind her ear.
Instinctively, Ye Xian reached out to tuck them back.
Halfway through the motion, he stopped.
Then awkwardly redirected his hand toward the old contract instead.
Seeing his profile as he turned away into the bamboo shadows, Gu Jinzhao suddenly laughed.
The incomplete contract no longer posed any threat.
Only the cup of Longjing tea remained upon the stone table.
Completely cold.
The distant cries of evening cicadas drifted through the grove.
Faint.
Intermittent.
Like bells echoing from behind the mountain.
Several days later, the sea breeze from Tianjin Wei swept into the capital.
Pagoda blossoms fell throughout the streets.
The proprietress of the rouge shop in the southern district stood outside dusting a newly pasted poster when she saw a young woman in a moon-white summer robe stepping from a carriage.
“Miss Gu, we’ve just received some new Suhe incense—”
“I’m not here to buy rouge today.”
Smiling, Gu Jinzhao waved her hand.
Qing Pu carried down two baskets of fresh Jiangnan green plums.
One basket was delivered to a household in the neighboring alley.
Standing before Fuchun Studio, Gu Jinzhao glanced up at the sky.
The sun blazed overhead.
Few pedestrians remained on the street.
Rainwater from the previous night still lingered between the cracks of the stone pavement.
Just as she was about to board her carriage, her gaze swept toward the far end of the street.
She suddenly paused.
Without turning around, she instructed Qing Pu:
“Leave another basket for Changxing Marquis Residence.”
“Tell Lady Gao they’re the first plums of the season from Jiangnan. They’ll be perfect candied with sugar.”
She paused.
“Don’t leave any message for Heir Apparent.”
“Just say the kitchen wanted Madam to enjoy something fresh.”
After securing the basket beneath the carriage seat, she adjusted the bamboo-green vine-patterned cuffs of her sleeves and climbed into the carriage.
As the wheels rumbled toward Gu Family Residence, she leaned back against the cushions.
Removing the white jade bracelet, she rested it upon her lap.
The carved begonia on the inner side glowed softly beneath the afternoon sunlight.
With the tip of her little finger, she traced the petals gently.
Outside, the cicadas fell silent once more.
The carriage wheels rolled over the seams between stone slabs, splashing through a puddle left behind by the previous night’s rain.
The coachman shouted something from beyond the curtain.
She never heard him.