By the time Ye Xian returned to the Censorate, it was already past mid-afternoon.
When he pushed open the door to the office, Xu Jingting was slumped sideways in a round-backed chair, dozing. He still held a folded fan in his hand.
Hearing the door open, he jolted awake and rubbed his eyes.
“Well?”
“His Majesty didn’t punish anyone.”
Ye Xian sat down and picked up the cup of tea that had long gone cold.
“With Gu Dezhao present, he only asked about the connection between the Imperial Stud Court and the grain supply case. He also briefly mentioned that Ji Minzhong’s impeachment memorial included my name.”
He took a sip of the cold tea.
“His Majesty is waiting for Ji Minzhong.”
Xu Jingting froze for a moment before slowly sitting upright.
“Waiting for him to jump out and complete the evidence himself?”
“So after all that effort, Ji Minzhong may have ended up dropping a stone on his own foot?”
Then he paused.
“What about Miss Gu?”
“Ji Minzhong has never truly regarded her highly.”
Ye Xian’s voice remained calm.
“In his eyes, she has always been someone standing outside the chessboard.”
“A bargaining chip that can be weighed between me and the Gu family.”
“He used the incomplete contract to pressure her.”
“He used Zhao Jin to test her.”
“He used the academy’s old contract to lure her out.”
“He believed that by increasing the pressure layer by layer, he could force a mistake.”
His gaze lowered slightly.
“But she never retreated.”
“And once she refused to retreat, he had no moves left.”
Ye Xian paused.
“That old fox isn’t unaware of what she possesses.”
“He simply underestimated how quickly she could piece everything together.”
His fingertip tapped a page in an old file on the desk.
“The list recently delivered from the Imperial Stud Court confirms that the dispatch dates of the military horses connected to the missing seals match perfectly with the original registers signed by Lord Gu.”
His expression softened slightly.
“She isn’t investigating any slower than I am.”
Xu Jingting listened quietly.
As he watched, the last traces of tension lingering along Ye Xian’s profile gradually eased away.
Opening his fan, he waved it gently but said nothing.
Outside the window, the sun had already begun sinking westward.
Across the alley behind the Ministry of Personnel, lights glowed within an office that should have stood empty during Ji Minzhong’s medical leave.
It was the Evaluation Bureau.
Ye Xian stared in that direction for a long moment before leaning back into his chair.
Toward evening, Ye Xian was reviewing memorials when footsteps approached outside.
Not a guard.
Not Xu Jingting.
The footsteps were light and steady, carrying the disciplined bearing of someone from the inner palace.
Three soft knocks sounded against the door.
Then it opened.
The visitor was Zhang He, the eunuch serving in Qianqing Palace.
Today he was not dressed in full palace attire.
Instead, he wore an inconspicuous dark-gray robe.
Were it not for the bronze palace-access token hanging from his waist, he might have passed for the steward of an ordinary household.
When appearing around the Censorate, he never wore official eunuch robes.
Yet his speech retained the unhurried cadence of the imperial palace.
“Greetings, Heir Apparent Ye.”
Zhang He bowed.
“His Majesty has a message for you.”
Ye Xian set down his brush and rose.
“His Majesty said—”
Zhang He paused, seemingly choosing his words carefully.
“Vice Minister Ji’s memorial has already been returned.”
“Gu Dezhao’s case will remain on hold.”
“The list of seven officials from the Imperial Stud Court will also remain on hold.”
He lowered his voice slightly.
“His Majesty asked one additional question.”
“‘Are the things in Ye Xian’s hands sufficient for him to close the case himself?'”
“‘I can help him arrest people, but I cannot investigate the case on his behalf.'”
Ye Xian fell silent for a moment.
Zhang He inclined his head and added:
“When this servant left the palace, I also brought something for the Heir Apparent.”
“A copy of the Evaluation Bureau’s records concerning the assessments of capital officials over the past six months.”
“Not the originals.”
“A transcription.”
“I understand His Majesty’s meaning.”
Ye Xian accepted the documents, flipped through them briefly, and closed them again.
“Please report back to His Majesty that what I have is enough to close the case.”
“The timing simply has not arrived yet.”
“Ji Minzhong’s case implicates more than one person.”
“If we intend to uproot everything, both the Ministry of Justice and the Ministry of Revenue must verify his lands and old records simultaneously.”
“When the Ministry of Justice’s verification arrives, I will personally submit the impeachment memorial before the throne.”
Zhang He nodded and committed the words to memory.
After another bow, he prepared to leave.
Yet when he reached the doorway, he suddenly stopped.
Turning around, he lowered his voice even further.
“There was one final question.”
“His Majesty did not have me write it down.”
“And he instructed me not to mention it to anyone else.”
“His Majesty asked whether the young lady often seen beside you is Gu Dezhao’s daughter.”
Ye Xian looked up.
His expression remained as indifferent as ever, though his voice dropped slightly lower.
“Why would His Majesty ask that?”
“The Emperor’s exact words were—”
Zhang He smiled faintly.
“‘A few days ago, I overheard two palace maids chatting in the Imperial Garden.'”
“‘They said that Heir Apparent Ye has recently been accompanying the eldest Miss of the Gu family to various temples to offer incense.'”
“‘Is there any truth to that?'”
Ye Xian did not answer.
Nor did Zhang He wait for one.
He merely smiled, flicked his whisk lightly, and disappeared into the gathering dusk beyond the corridor.
He left quickly, clearly intending not to linger.
After the eunuch departed, Ye Xian sat alone at his desk and opened the Evaluation Bureau records.
When he reached the page bearing the signature of the bureau director, Ji Minzhong’s handwriting immediately came into view.
He marked the page and placed the booklet back on the desk.
Early the next morning, Ye Xian had only just returned from the archives when Nanny Feng was already waiting outside the office.
She wore a somewhat faded indigo jacket and carried a food box.
Upon seeing him, she bowed.
“Heir Apparent, Madam sent this old servant to deliver some loquat syrup.”
“Madam says the weather has been hot these past few days.”
“You’ve remained here for several days without returning home.”
“She’s worried you’ve forgotten to take your medicine again.”
“Madam also asks whether you’ll return home for dinner tonight.”
“She recently acquired two baskets of Dongting Biluochun tea.”
“And there is also the matter of inviting the ladies of the Gu family to the residence for opera and tea.”
Ye Xian accepted the food box and placed it on a side table beside his desk.
His fingers tapped lightly on the lid.
“Nanny Feng, why has Mother suddenly thought of inviting the Gu family ladies to watch an opera?”
Nanny Feng smiled.
“Madam said she happened to meet Miss Gu at an antique shop a few days ago while she was choosing a brush washer.”
“They chatted for a while.”
“So Madam thought it would be nice to invite the Gu family’s young ladies over for a visit.”
“It wouldn’t look proper to invite only Miss Gu every time.”
She paused before adding:
“Though Madam also said that if the Heir Apparent feels it’s inappropriate, the invitation can wait until another occasion.”
“What could possibly be inappropriate?”
His tone remained lazily indifferent as always.
Yet the corner of his lips moved almost imperceptibly.
“It’s no great matter.”
“I’ve already spoken with Lord Gu.”
“He agreed.”
Nanny Feng lowered her head to hide her smile and acknowledged the instruction before withdrawing.
Having served beside Lady Lu for nearly thirty years, she understood perfectly.
Whenever the Heir Apparent said things like ‘As you wish’ or ‘It’s nothing important,’ it meant he not only approved, but intended to personally oversee every detail.
Sure enough, before she had even stepped out of the Censorate gates, Ye Xian’s calm voice sounded behind her.
“Have the flower hall prepared.”
“Build the opera stage beside the peony garden.”
“Not in the main courtyard.”
“The main courtyard gets too much sun.”
“Prepare two sets of refreshments.”
“Junshan Yinzhen tea with Longjing pastries.”
“Biluochun tea with lotus-root cakes.”
He paused.
Then lowered his head and adjusted his sleeve.
“And move that Yaohuang peony outside the study window to the flower hall.”
“That flower blocks the way.”
Nanny Feng turned and bowed once more, carefully committing every instruction to memory.
Yet inwardly she thought:
The flower wasn’t blocking the path at all.
What it blocked was someone’s view of a certain person.
When she reached the corner of Chang’an Street, she glanced up at the sky.
It looked like a day without rain.
On the thirteenth day of the sixth month, thin clouds drifted across the heavens, softening the sunlight.
Outside a teahouse, a waiter splashed used tea water onto the bluestone pavement.
The water hissed softly as a wisp of white steam rose into the air.