9 Probing
◎Gu Ningxi was eighty to ninety percent certain that he still hadn’t discovered her identity.◎
After leaving the training grounds, Gu Ningxi followed Prince Zhao for quite some time.
She felt she needed to explain herself a bit, so after thinking for a moment, she said with little confidence, “Your subject… your subject is a civil official.”
Usually busy with official duties, it was reasonable that she had neglected practicing archery. Gu Ningxi hadn’t thought it was that bad before—just that she might have embarrassed His Highness Prince Zhao.
Lu Jing glanced at her lightly: “Hmm.”
Gu Ningxi fell silent, changing the subject as she remembered her official duties at the Ministry of Works.
“Your Highness, I wonder if you might have some free time later?”
Before starting the renovations at Prince Zhao’s residence, of course she needed to clarify the master’s preferences.
Lu Jing didn’t answer, but Gu Ningxi understood his meaning.
Thanks to her, she had disrupted Prince Zhao’s enjoyment at the training grounds, so His Highness had some free time in the afternoon.
Lu Jing said, “Let’s go to the study.”
Gu Ningxi felt a surge of joy in her heart: “Yes, I’ll first go retrieve the blueprints.”
She took her leave first, only realizing it after walking some distance away. Perhaps it was because the environment of Prince Zhao’s residence felt familiar to her, or because she had recalled past events at the training grounds, but she seemed to feel somewhat more at ease when facing Prince Zhao again.
…
At the training grounds, the attendants had already cleared away the targets.
Xie Qian had selected two longbows he favored. While wiping the bowstrings, he thought of what had just happened, still feeling somewhat unsettled in his heart.
He couldn’t help but say, “When His Highness was in the army, he never willingly instructed anyone. What kind of luck does that Lord Gu have to receive His Highness’s personal guidance?”
For the last half of his sentence, Xie Qian even lowered his voice, as if unwilling for others to hear.
Zhen Yuan was also curious. He hadn’t lived in the capital for long, and his understanding of the noble families there wasn’t much better than Xie Qian’s.
Taking advantage of Wei Fan’s presence today, Xie Qian voiced the doubts he had harbored for days: “That Lord Gu is the Crown Prince’s Attendant. Why did His Highness invite him to the residence?”
Could it just be to cause trouble for the Eastern Palace? But His Highness also allowed him to move freely within the residence. Although the residence was heavily guarded and Lord Gu knew his place without any suspicious movements, given time, who could guarantee no trouble would arise? Why would His Highness invite such potential trouble?
Wei Fan spread his hands—he truly didn’t know about this matter: “Who can understand His Highness’s thoughts? If you’re really curious, you might as well go ask His Highness yourself. Let me know if you find out.”
Zhen Yuan nodded in agreement, but Xie Qian hesitated. It was such a small matter—not worth bothering His Highness about.
Wei Fan said, “Alright, it’s getting late. Go train the troops earlier.”
Xie Qian was the Right Unified Army Commander of Prince Zhao’s residence, and Prince Zhao had always entrusted him with important responsibilities.
The capital wasn’t like the battlefield, where one could charge about with just a spear. There were countless matters requiring attention.
Beneath the Emperor was the Crown Prince of the Eastern Palace, but Xie Qian smiled carefreely—he had ever only served one lord: His Highness Prince Zhao.
…
As the sun tilted westward, Gu Ningxi was quite familiar with the path to the prince’s study.
Probably because Chief Steward Sun had given prior instructions, the guards didn’t stop her.
The study hadn’t been renovated and remained as it was in the past, with only a few new decorations added.
Near the corner of the desk, close to the curio cabinet, stood a three-color appliqué double-fish vase. Although its craftsmanship was extraordinary—a treasure among porcelain—it wasn’t particularly eye-catching amidst the understated luxury of the room.
But as Gu Ningxi presented the blueprints and returned to her seat, she couldn’t help casting another glance at it, struggling to suppress the emotions in her eyes.
Lu Jing unfolded the blueprint. The annotations on the drawing were exceptionally detailed, with key areas highlighted and emphasized. It was evident that the person opposite him had invested considerable effort.
Although he had been recommended by the imperial brother, Yuanle, as a Tanhua Scholar, had risen to the rank of sixth-grade Ministry of Works Administrator by his twenties—certainly no small feat.
After reviewing the blueprint in his hands, Lu Jing looked up only to find the person across from him lost in thought.
Lu Jing lightly tapped the table, and Gu Ningxi snapped back to reality as if awakening from a dream. She first inquired about Prince Zhao’s preference regarding the drill ground and the garden as the primary focus.
Expanding the garden was merely for aesthetic purposes, and Lu Jing had no strong opinion either way. “Let’s hear the Ministry of Works’ proposal,” he said.
Gu Ningxi responded with a respectful “Yes,” already prepared with a general plan.
She could tell that Prince Zhao had no intention of renovating Prince Zhao’s residence. This matter was solely the Emperor’s wish.
Perhaps out of guilt for not being able to install Prince Zhao in the Eastern Palace, the Emperor intended to renovate Prince Zhao’s residence as a form of compensation, treating it as a new home. Moreover, the Emperor was using funds from the imperial treasury, not the state treasury. It was simply a father’s affection for his son, and the court officials would not dare to voice objections.
Gu Ningxi laid out the Ministry of Works’ current plans clearly and logically. The existing pavilions, terraces, and towers would largely retain their original appearance, with only a corner of the corridor removed to extend into the new garden. The newly expanded section would harmonize with the old garden, with scenic views at every step of the transition. This approach avoided major disruptions, requiring only careful attention to the expansion area.
Lu Jing nodded. “Proceed as planned.”
Gu Ningxi bowed in acknowledgment, stating that a draft could be drawn up within two days.
By the hour of Wei, Prince Zhao’s residence had prepared tea and refreshments. Lu Jing closed the blueprint and said, “Tell me about the court affairs of the past two years.”
Although he had already reviewed the summary submitted by Wei Fan, Lu Jing wanted to hear the perspective of someone from the Eastern Palace on the court situation.
Gu Ningxi was, of course, prepared. After all, Prince Zhao had transferred her to the residence under the pretext of familiarizing her with court affairs.
Court politics were complex. Gu Ningxi thought for a moment. “Shall I start with the Three Departments?”
“Very well.”
She spoke briefly about the Department of State Affairs, which drafted imperial decrees. Over the years, the Chancellor had consistently been Lord Pei Mu, the Emperor’s most trusted official, with no changes.
“Prince Huai was promoted to Palace Attendant the year before last and now oversees the Chancellery.” The Chancellery had the authority to reject decrees drafted by the Department of State Affairs, wielding significant power.
“Moreover, the Hall of State Affairs was newly established within the Chancellery last year, where the highest-ranking officials of the Three Departments convene for discussions.”
As for the Department of State Administration, the Minister of State was Prince Zhao himself. The Department of State Administration oversaw the Six Ministries, each with its own responsibilities. On the surface, the Six Ministries were of equal rank, but in practice, they were prioritized, with the Ministry of Personnel at the forefront. The Ministry of Works, where Gu Ningxi served, was often ranked last.
The Ministry of Personnel managed the appointment, evaluation, and transfer of civil officials. The Minister of Personnel, Lord Zhao, had been recommended by the Crown Prince.
The Crown Prince was intent on reforming the civil service and evaluating officials in the court. A proposal had already been drafted and implemented, though it was relatively mild, focusing more on rewards. While penalties were listed for officials who delayed or neglected their duties, they were often handled leniently, with strict orders to improve in the future.
Gu Ningxi did not elaborate on the effectiveness of these measures. She looked up, assuming Prince Zhao could read between the lines.
Lu Jing smiled, meeting Gu Ningxi’s gaze.
After their conversation, the sky had grown late, and Gu Ningxi did not continue further. She carefully reviewed her words, confident there were no flaws or omissions that could be used against her.
The room fell silent, and Gu Ningxi rose at the appropriate moment. “If Your Highness has no further instructions, may I take my leave?”
“Very well.”
Gu Ningxi bowed, restraining herself from looking elsewhere, and quickly exited the study.
There was still some time before leaving her post, so she prepared to return to her own duty room to tidy up a bit.
The study fell into silence. Lu Jing noticed the Ministry of Works blueprints stored to the side.
Back when he left the capital, Yuanle had just passed the imperial examination and was serving in the Hanlin Academy.
After three years in the Eastern Palace, his temperament seemed to have grown much steadier.
…
Under the bright moon and sparse stars, a branch of peach blossoms bloomed brilliantly on the painting.
Gu Ningxi mixed her colors, then added green leaves.
Since the Ministry of Works blueprints had already received Prince Zhao’s approval, and there was ample time, she could wait until her next duty shift tomorrow to continue painting.
On an empty table nearby, a newly completed, still-wet painting was laid out to dry. Yinlan carefully smoothed it flat.
There were three paintings in total. The day after tomorrow, a servant would deliver them all to Chiyun Bookstore. Gu Ningxi had previously agreed with the bookstore’s manager to display her paintings there for sale. The profits would be split, with Gu Ningxi keeping eighty percent and the bookstore taking twenty.
Although the Gu family was a century-old prominent clan, their family ethos was upright and strict. Fearing that descendants three generations later might become arrogant, extravagant, and dissolute, they had always been cautious with finances. Gu family members never lacked for food, clothing, or dignified appearances when traveling. However, any additional expenses often required personal supplementation.
Gu Ningxi and her mother had shallow roots within the Gu family, unlike Madam Shen, who held household management authority and had dowry shops and farmlands generating rental income.
To discreetly acquire some modest assets without the Gu family’s knowledge required considerable ingenuity.
Gu Ningxi excelled at danqing (traditional painting) and had diligently refined her skills after joining the Ministry of Works. Though not a renowned master, her paintings sold reasonably well. While high-ranking officials and nobles naturally disdained them, wealthier commoners enjoyed buying a piece or two to decorate their homes. Recently, spring scenery paintings were particularly popular, so Gu Ningxi had painted seven or eight in succession. The three new ones each referenced a corner of Prince Zhao’s residence, skillfully adapted to be both aesthetically pleasing and less labor-intensive. Selling three to five paintings per month provided a decent income. Since she intended to purchase a residence, and cutting expenses was difficult, she needed to expand her revenue streams.
She recalled the four coin minting furnaces the Emperor had bestowed upon Prince Zhao’s residence. Being able to mint coins independently truly meant an inexhaustible supply.
Gu Ningxi added a few more brushstrokes and said to Yinlan, “I’m almost finished here. You should go to bed first.”
The night was deep; there was no need for Yinlan to stay up with her.
Yinlan replied, “Yes, thank you, Madam.” After smoothing the painting and confirming there was nothing else to do in the room, she took her leave.
Gu Ningxi examined the painting, deliberately refined it further, and added distant scenery.
In the stillness of the late night, during her time at Prince Zhao’s residence, she had inevitably encountered him more frequently.
Compared to before, he seemed largely unchanged—or perhaps he had changed, but she hadn’t noticed yet.
Her brush gradually stilled. He had also gained new friends, none of whom she was familiar with.
Tonight’s moonlight was beautiful, its clear glow spreading across the ground.
It seemed on just such a clear, bright night, during their final farewell at Wangyun Teahouse, he had asked her if she was willing to leave the capital with him.
Such a question had crossed the boundaries of friendship. He was asking her if she would choose him as her lord.
But how could she agree? She couldn’t.
At that time, the Turks had sent envoys to hold the Great Jin dynasty accountable. With the Central Plains embroiled in conflict and the Jin dynasty not yet firmly established, they could not afford to antagonize the Turks. The court treated the envoys with great courtesy, offering wealth and silk as customary tribute.
To appease the Turkic Khan’s anger, the Emperor personally issued an edict exiling Prince Zhao from the capital.
Everyone said that not only had His Highness Prince Zhao lost any chance at the crown prince position, but he had also completely fallen out of the Emperor’s favor.
The cold moonlight illuminated two separate paths. After bidding farewell that day, they never saw each other again.
She knew he had returned to the military camp; and the news he had heard about Gu Ningxi was likely that “he” had pledged allegiance to the Crown Prince and was deeply trusted by the heir apparent.
Now that Prince Zhao had returned to the capital with immense popularity, if there was any talk of rekindling old affections, it certainly wouldn’t be her, Gu Yuanle, who would be considered.
On the scroll, peach blossoms bloomed brilliantly. Recalling their interactions over the past few days, Gu Ningxi was eighty to ninety percent certain that he still hadn’t discovered her true identity.
As for those strange dreams and the series of coincidences, she had no choice but to believe, for now, that they were real. Especially today, when she had actually seen that twin-fish vase in Prince Zhao’s study—it felt like a hint from the heavens.
In the earliest dream, Prince Zhao had turned that twin-fish vase, and a secret chamber had immediately appeared in the study.
A chamber where she had been imprisoned for four days and three nights.
During those four days, the Crown Prince was replaced, and the court was thrown into chaos.
The ink in the inkstone had dried completely, and Gu Ningxi finally set down her brush.