Pei Xian, who had been waiting faithfully by the carriage, finally saw Pei Tan’s figure appear along the palace path. Never had he felt such joy: “My lord!”
Pei Tan saw him too, but still walked forward step by step. Pei Xian instinctively wanted to speak, but Pei Tan gently shook his head to silence him.
So Pei Xian lowered his gaze and said nothing.
At that moment, the guards at Wenchang Gate had just changed shifts. Pei Tan’s eyes swept over them calmly before he slowly boarded the carriage and entered behind the curtain.
Inside sat Jing Wan’er, still dressed in the eunuch’s robe. Her face was pale, clearly marked by the terror of the night.
Pei Tan looked at her, and she looked back. Neither spoke.
From outside, Pei Xian’s low voice came: “My lord, shall we leave the palace now?”
Pei Tan’s gaze rested on Jing Wan’er: “Leave the palace.”
He sat opposite her. Jing Wan’er shrank into the corner of the carriage, her eyes fixed on him, as though words lingered unsaid.
The carriage jolted lightly as Pei Xian began to drive it toward the palace gate.
The newly posted guards at Wenchang Gate looked slightly surprised, but Pei Xian quickly produced the imperial token bestowed by Emperor Zhongzong: “Minister Pei entered the palace last night by imperial command. You may verify with the palace.”
No verification was needed. The sight of the token alone was enough to prevent the guards from obstructing them. The gate was opened without further inspection.
Pei Xian tucked the token back into his robe. With a sharp crack of the whip, the carriage surged out of Wenchang Gate.
Jing Wan’er felt the unusual jolt, and her expression finally changed. Only now did she realize—she had truly escaped the palace. She immediately looked at the man opposite her. Pei Tan’s expression remained calm, though when her eyes met his, a shadow flickered deep within his gaze.
This was their first true meeting. Yet even before this, Jing Wan’er and Pei Tan could not be said to be strangers.
“Thank you, my lord, for saving me.” After a long silence, Jing Wan’er chose to break it.
Pei Tan looked at her: “Earlier you asked me whether Zong Huo had escaped Chang’an. Why did you ask that?”
Jing Wan’er’s eyes grew deep: “Because I discovered something I should never have discovered. That is why the palace guards hunted me tonight.”
Pei Tan’s gaze was darker than the night: “And what is this thing you should not have discovered?”
The sound of the carriage wheels filled the silence. They were already rolling along the streets of Chang’an.
Jing Wan’er, as though reborn, looked steadily at Pei Tan.
“Of course, I discovered that Zong Huo did not die. The corpse was nothing but a trick, a deception.” Her voice was clear, her eyes pure as a mirror’s surface.
Pei Tan saw those eyes and knew at once—all his suspicions had been confirmed.
Jing Wan’er truly dared to risk everything to expose such truths.
From outside, Pei Xian’s voice came, low and uneasy: “…My lord, are we to return directly to the Court?”
He added “directly” because inside the carriage sat a girl like a ticking time bomb.
Pei Tan met Jing Wan’er’s gaze, and his reply to Pei Xian was clear and firm: “Directly back to the Court.”
Since Jing Wan’er had already escaped the palace, she had to be taken to the Court. This girl was now deeply entangled in the case; it was impossible to separate her from it.
Pei Xian, hearing Pei Tan’s confirmation, fell silent for a moment, then finally turned the carriage toward the road leading to the Court.
It seemed that the farther they traveled from the palace, the more Jing Wan’er shed her armor. By now, she appeared like a pure and delicate young maiden.
With the destination set, Pei Xian drove swiftly, and in less than half an hour, they reached the Court of Judicial Review.
Inside the carriage, Pei Tan lifted the curtain and saw the familiar, heavily guarded rear gate. Pei Xian stopped the carriage there, cautious and deliberate.
“My lord, allow me to first dismiss the guards at the rear gate.”
Pei Tan thought for a moment, then agreed.
Pei Xian’s figure vanished through the gate. Moments later, the sound of footsteps receded. Only after ensuring the guards had withdrawn did Pei Xian return.
Pei Tan gestured for Jing Wan’er to follow him out of the carriage.
She was still dressed in a eunuch’s robe, an awkward disguise. Without Pei Xian’s precaution of removing the guards, her appearance would have caused alarm.
As Jing Wan’er stepped down, she felt warmth on her shoulders. Turning, she found a cloak had been draped over her without her noticing. She froze in surprise.
It was Pei Tan who had removed his cloak and placed it upon her.
“Come,” Pei Tan finally spoke. He stepped through the rear gate, Pei Xian following behind, Jing Wan’er walking between them.
The three moved discreetly. Even if others passed by, Pei Tan led in front, Pei Xian followed coldly behind, and no one paid attention to the cloaked figure between them. After the time of one incense stick, they reached Pei Tan’s residence within the Court without drawing notice.
“My lord, how shall we deal with this palace maid?” Pei Xian asked in a low voice once they stood inside the hall.
In the palace earlier, he could not speak openly and had followed Pei Tan’s orders without question. But now, back at the Court, he could finally raise the matter.
Pei Tan looked at Jing Wan’er, who stood silently. Everything that had happened tonight could not be carefully considered—it had all been instinctive, reasonable reactions to the moment.
Yet actions taken must bear consequences.
He looked at the girl before him. Even outside the palace, her identity would never be safe.
After a long pause, Pei Tan said softly: “From the servants’ quarters to Taiye Pool takes at least three hours. The palace guards are well-trained; they would not wait until you reached Taiye Pool to act. Which means—you already knew tonight would be dangerous?”
Knowing the danger, she had not fled outward but instead deeper into the palace. That was likely the reason she delayed pursuit and prevented the guards from finding her immediately. This girl, facing peril with such calm, was truly clever.
Jing Wan’er met his gaze. She knew her escape tonight was nothing short of heaven’s mercy.
“You’ve been using carrier pigeons to communicate outside the palace?” Pei Tan finally asked.
Jing Wan’er stood quietly for a long time. She had indeed sent messages to the Court by pigeon—something Pei Tan could not be deceived about.
“Yes. I received word from outside. I knew Zong Huo had left Chang’an, and I knew that once he left, it would mean my death.”
Once the cause and effect were clear, the truth was not hard to guess.
Pei Tan said nothing. His silence made the atmosphere in the hall grow heavier.
At last, Pei Xian spoke again, unable to hold back: “After tonight, the escape of a palace maid will surely spread throughout the palace. This girl may become a burden to you, my lord.”
Jing Wan’er said quietly: “All of this began with me. I am willing to bear it. I will never implicate my lord.”
Pei Xian looked at her coldly: “You are only a palace maid. How can you bear it?”
Jing Wan’er slowly removed the cloak. Her discarded maid’s robe had already been tied to a stone and thrown into Taiye Pool. At the bottom of Taiye Pool lay countless secrets since the founding of the Tang dynasty—no one dared to dredge it.
She gazed at Pei Tan and said: “Since the day I entered the palace, Wan’er has never feared death. Even now, it is the same.”
It was as if she were hinting that even if Pei Tan handed her over now, she would not resist.
Pei Tan’s eyes remained fixed on her face. Since he had already taken her out of the palace, he would not send her back without reason. Moreover, with Zong Huo having escaped Chang’an, only Jing Wan’er could now explain the truth of the substitution case.
Pei Tan’s fingers tapped lightly on the table, clearly deep in thought. Pei Xian had been right about one thing: the Court of Judicial Review had just as many eyes and ears as the palace. Keeping Jing Wan’er here even a moment longer would also drag the Court into danger.
At that moment, Pei Tan thought of someone.
Registrar Xing Zuo was reviewing case files in his study when he received Pei Tan’s summons and hurried to the side hall.
“My lord, what are your orders?”
Pei Tan paced the room with his hands behind his back: “Do you still recall the case of the woman Zichan’er?”
That matter had occurred less than two days ago. Registrar Xing thought briefly and then nodded: “I remember. Why does my lord suddenly ask?”
Pei Tan looked at him steadily and asked: “Her husband—the one with whom she opened a tavern in Chang’an—do you recall its name? And on which street does it stand?”
Registrar Xing was surprised, but quickly replied: “My lord, that couple’s tavern is called *Zixuan Tavern*. It is on Qing’an Street, just left of the city gate.”
Pei Tan narrowed his eyes in thought. “Not far. Prepare a carriage—I must go to Qing’an Street.”
Registrar Xing was startled: “Has that couple committed another crime? Should I bring officers to arrest them?”
Pei Tan answered at once: “No crime. You need not bring anyone. Simply have the carriage wait at the rear gate of the Court. I have my own use for it.”
Though doubtful, Registrar Xing dared not question him: “Yes, my lord. I will make the arrangements.”
After Registrar Xing departed, the side hall grew quiet. Pei Tan said: “You may come out now.”
Jing Wan’er and Pei Xian emerged from the side door where they had been hiding. They had heard everything Pei Tan said. At the mention of Zichan’er’s name, Jing Wan’er’s expression had clearly changed.
Pei Tan noticed. Just moments earlier, inspiration had struck him—he remembered Zichan’er, another palace maid who had escaped, married, and remade her life.
In truth, Jing Wan’er needed no one’s pity. Once she had left the palace, she was like a fish returned to water.
Looking at her calm, unruffled brows and eyes, Pei Tan’s gaze grew shadowed.
Before long, a servant arrived to report: the carriage was ready at the rear gate.