Jing Wan’er reached for the wine basket, gently tugging at the cloth that covered it. The wine jar was revealed, but after a moment’s look, she did not touch the wine. Instead, she took the cloth and walked back to Pei Tan’s side.
Pei Tan watched her movements, and she looked back at him as she slowly spread the cloth along its edges.
What had seemed like an ordinary piece of floral fabric unfolded to reveal a web of intersecting lines and countless markings—an astonishing secret hidden within.
Pei Tan’s gaze grew sharp and intense: “The Map of the Tang Territory…”
Within that square foot of cloth was concealed a faintly drawn map of the Tang empire’s lands!
His voice was cold as the night: “Jing Wan’er, how dare you?”
From the founding of the Tang dynasty, territorial maps were forbidden military secrets. To privately possess one was punishable by death—without trial, without judgment.
Jing Wan’er’s expression was calm and cool, showing no fear: “Wan’er knows. That is why I came alone to see you. If anyone else saw this, I would not escape execution.”
Pei Tan stared at her, unmoving: “And if I see it, do you think you can escape death?”
His use of “this official” signaled his anger. He had never imagined Jing Wan’er could obtain something as dangerous as the Tang territory map. For the first time, Pei Tan felt uncertain—her actions seemed beyond mere boldness.
At that moment, Jing Wan’er knelt silently before him: “This map hides Zong Huo’s movements. If my lord allows me to finish, Wan’er will submit to whatever judgment you give.”
At the mention of Zong Huo’s whereabouts, Pei Tan’s eyes narrowed.
Even after barely escaping death in the palace, Jing Wan’er had not abandoned her watch over the Zong father and son. Her method, of course, was her network of eyes spread throughout Chang’an. Other than Zichan’er, Pei Tan had yet to learn from her the fate of the other “palace maids.”
Pei Tan’s gaze swept quickly across the map.
The Pei family was not merely a clan of scholars; they had never lacked generals. As early as Emperor Taizong’s reign, Pei Xingjian had made the family’s name famous across the Tang. Pei Tan had grown up familiar with the empire’s battlefronts and territories. But he was Pei Tan, son of the Pei clan. His knowledge was natural. Jing Wan’er, however…
“The towns closest to Chang’an number eleven. The surrounding garrisons are heavily guarded, so Zong Chuke will surely find ways to make Zong Huo avoid them.”
Her voice filled the chamber.
Pei Tan gazed at her deeply.
Jing Wan’er lowered her eyes and continued: “Wan’er may be presumptuous before my lord. Beyond those eleven towns, Zong Huo has only two remote routes. One is a treacherous mountain path. Since they are disguised as Hu merchants carrying heavy goods, they will abandon that route. And this… if my lord has already sent men to track Zong Huo, they must have learned the same.”
Pei Tan indeed already knew this. But it did not explain how Jing Wan’er, confined to Chang’an, could deduce it.
She nervously clutched her sleeve: “May Wan’er continue?”
Pei Tan’s gaze was deep: “Speak.”
Jing Wan’er looked at him once, then swiftly pointed to three heavily circled places on the map. They were: Caozhou, Wuzhou, and another Wuzhou.
When Pei Tan’s eyes fell upon them, his pupils tightened at once.
“Wan’er knows Zong Huo’s weakness. She knows where he will ultimately go.”
He saw it clearly—she was not boasting. Jing Wan’er possessed a terrifying insight, a perception that surpassed her circumstances, something that could only be called a gift.
Jing Wan’er had clearly gathered all her courage to come this time. Her finger finally pressed down on one spot: “Wan’er knows, my lord must already have made preparations in secret.”
“But my lord’s preparations are only to discover Zong Huo’s resting place and act afterward. They cannot anticipate his movements in advance, nor lure him into a trap.”
It is said that the art of war lies in seizing the initiative. If Pei Tan remained passive, the Pei family’s guards were certainly capable enough to eventually uncover Zong Huo’s hiding place. But Jing Wan’er spoke of striking ahead of him.
If everything could be prepared in advance, many matters would be resolved far more easily.
Her finger pressed hard against the map, leaving a nail mark at the spot.
“If my lord trusts Wan’er, Zong Huo will surely go here.”
Pei Tan’s gaze fell upon the place—Wuzhou.
This time, Zong Chuke entered the palace without attendants. He remained from morning until sunset, and when he emerged, his expression carried not only the gravity with which he had gone in, but also a deeper, more sinister edge.
His carriage returned silently to the Ministry of War. Once inside, Zong Chuke ground his teeth: “Bring Chen Shun.”
Soon, under the night sky, a figure appeared. He lifted his head, revealing a sharp, rat-like face—it was the adviser who had orchestrated Zong Huo’s escape.
“My lord, did you discover something in the palace today?” Chen Shun’s beady eyes gleamed.
Zong Chuke’s face was as cold as frost in the night: “What Prince Changle? What palace maid taken by him? It was all a carefully crafted deception.”
Chen Shun’s eyes flickered: “My lord says it was a deception?”
Zong Chuke slammed his palm against the grand chair, his fury evident.
Chen Shun’s sly eyes darted rapidly. He had heard of the palace incident, and all their inquiries had concluded that Prince Changle took the maid.
“My lord, today in the palace… did you meet the Empress? Or…?”
The only ones Zong Chuke would personally meet were Empress Wei or Chancellor Wei Xuanzhen. But Wei Xuanzhen had already gone to Zuiqing Pavilion to meet Pei Tan; he likely had no patience to see Zong Chuke again.
“At Taiye Pool’s barge, after that night, the chamber inventory showed one eunuch’s robe missing, replaced by a low-grade palace maid’s dress of unknown origin. At first, it seemed trivial, and the servants cleaning the barge did not report it.”
Today, Empress Wei had ordered an investigation and revealed this to Zong Chuke.
One could imagine the depth of his hatred then.
Pei Tan, that brat, had dared to play tricks again, nearly deceiving him once more.
The commander of Danfeng Gate had been personally summoned by Empress Wei and tortured until he confessed the truth: When Prince Changle departed, there was no one in his carriage. All of this pointed back to the answer that had been deliberately obscured.
The one who took the maid was not Prince Changle.
Chen Shun shrank in the shadows, realizing his supposedly flawless plan was not so. If it were false, his hopes of earning merit before the Zong father and son would be utterly ruined.
“So the matron of the servants’ quarters, Palace Madam Cui, dared to deceive my lord?”
She had sworn it was true, pushing the claim forward. Her lie was clearly for self-preservation.
Zong Chuke’s eyes, filled with hatred, slowly twisted into a cruel smile: “Pei Tan thinks he can deceive everyone… I will make that brat taste the consequences.”
Chen Shun’s eyes rolled quickly, stunned that Pei Tan had gone so far. If not for Zong Chuke’s suspicious nature, the matter might have been overlooked. “My lord, what do you intend?”
If Pei Tan had quietly made such arrangements, it was enough to show that Zong Huo’s escape from Chang’an was very likely already known to him. For the entire Ministry of War, this was a terrifying consequence.
Yet Zong Chuke’s expression at this moment was cold, even carrying a twisted smile.
That afternoon in the palace, Empress Wei had finally waved her fan and said leisurely to him: “There is one more thing I must tell you. That palace maid is not an ordinary person. She entered the palace five years ago—she is the daughter of the former Grand Protector, Jing Zheren, of the Jing household.”
Zong Chuke had been shocked then. How could he forget Jing Zheren, or the Jing family? Were they not the very pawns he had maneuvered to their deaths?
Who would have thought that the world held such strange twists of fate.
An ordinary maid and the daughter of Jing Zheren were worlds apart.
Madness and hatred flickered in Zong Chuke’s eyes, along with a new plan. He thought Heaven itself was aiding him—granting him the chance to eradicate the roots completely.
The daughter of a disgraced minister already bore a heavy guilt. Now, having fled the palace, her crime was doubled beyond pardon. And the one who had aided her escape was none other than the Tang dynasty’s most gentle and refined official, the Minister of the Court of Judicial Review, Pei Tan.
As he prepared to leave the palace, Zong Chuke requested a portrait of Jing Wan’er from Empress Wei. Opening it, he saw the delicate features of the young girl. His finger dug into her face on the paper, as though he already foresaw her death.
“Make a hundred copies of this portrait. Distribute them to spies throughout Chang’an. If they see this woman, kill her immediately. The day she is found will be the day Pei Tan dies.”
Killing her would silence her. With her corpse brought into the palace, unable to speak, they could accuse Pei Tan of colluding with a traitor—and that would be enough.
Chen Shun looked at Zong Chuke’s twisted, vicious face. His sharp eyes finally revealed a sly smile: “I must congratulate my lord. Your wish is about to be fulfilled.”
Without Pei Tan as an obstacle, it would be as if the skies over Chang’an had cleared.
The hatred of a son’s death—Zong Chuke had never forgotten.
“Once this girl is found, Pei Tan’s guilt as her accomplice will be nailed beyond doubt. Then, even if he uncovers the truth about Young Master Huo, it will no longer matter. Even His Majesty will not believe him.”
Imagine it: the noble and unmatched Minister of the Court of Judicial Review of Chang’an, revealed as the accomplice of a lowly palace maid. Once this was made public, who would still respect the Court of Justice?
At that moment, Zong Chuke’s eyes were filled with dark malice. He did not only want Pei Tan dead—he wanted the entire Pei family dragged down with him. Even if he could not topple that century-old noble house, he would make sure that this family, so proud of its purity and honor, was shamed because of that brat!