Before Chu Linlang could think of another topic, Situ Sheng spoke first:
“At today’s noon banquet, Lord Zhou shed his usual stiffness and conversed freely with His Highness the Sixth Prince, offering many insightful remarks. It seems the prince’s words from last time truly struck him—within just a few days, he has made great progress.”
Chu Linlang’s heart leapt with joy: her husband had shown promise, finally regaining some dignity before the prince. She feigned humility and said:
“That day, my husband faltered in his replies before His Highness, and afterward, he was deeply regretful, feeling he had betrayed the trust of the court. Since then, he has worked diligently to avoid further mistakes. His Highness favors you. If my husband falls short, I beg Master Situ to be forgiving and to speak kindly of him before the prince.”
Situ Sheng looked at her, a faint, meaningful smile on his lips: “After only a few days of effort, Lord Zhou has surpassed the progress of his months in Lianzhou. Such talent naturally earns the prince’s affection. As for myself, being newly arrived here, I am unfamiliar with many matters. The local officials, fearful of His Highness’s status, are timid and hesitant. If only I could be as perceptive as Lord Zhou, it would make my work much easier.”
Chu Linlang pondered his words, then replied cautiously with a smile: “Of course. If you encounter difficulties, you may consult my husband. He will surely speak without reserve.”
At this, the irony in Situ Sheng’s smile deepened. Then, as if seized by the urge to play teacher, he began treating Chu Linlang like a pupil, speaking at length about historical anecdotes—Empress Dowager Dou of Han, Empress Dowager Xuan of Qin, and the like.
Chu Linlang disliked such scholarly tales and could not grasp his point, so she could only smile politely and offer refreshments during pauses in his discourse.
After playing his tune to an unappreciative audience, Situ Sheng finally tired and said lightly: “Since Lord Zhou is too drunk to rise, I shall take my leave.”
Chu Linlang had been waiting for these words. Relieved, she responded cheerfully with polite courtesy: “Why does Master leave so soon? Will you not stay for a meal?”
It was the usual empty politeness, not meant to be taken seriously. Yet Situ Sheng raised his head and said slowly: “If Madam truly says so…”
Chu Linlang froze, her smile stiffening, watching his lips to see how shameless a man from the capital could be.
Situ Sheng seemed to enjoy the local custom of changing expressions. Only when her face darkened did he continue leisurely: “If Madam truly says so, it would be hard to refuse such kindness. I ought to stay and taste the local fare. But alas, I am already too full from the banquet, so I shall not impose further.”
Chu Linlang exhaled again in relief and dared not extend more courtesy. She personally escorted him with her maid to the gate.
As they passed the courtyard, a gust of wind carried a peculiar scent.
Situ Sheng frowned—it was dried fish hanging on a rope.
These had just been brought from Chu Linlang’s hometown of Jiangkou by her supplier.
Seeing him pause and stare at the fish, Chu Linlang asked her maid to take some down and offer them to him.
But when the maid brought them over, Situ Sheng did not even touch them. He stepped back slightly, his brows tightening almost imperceptibly, and said: “No need for courtesy. Farewell!”
With that, he swept his sleeves and strode away, as though chased by a dog, without looking back.
Just then, Chu Linlang’s young sister-in-law, Zhou Xiuling, approached and, having glimpsed his face earlier, now watched his tall figure retreating. She asked: “Sister-in-law, who was that? He’s so handsome!”
Chu Linlang took the fish from the maid and replied, “A tutor in the imperial palace at the capital. How could he not be handsome?”
Zhou Xiuling laughed: “What, even teaching requires good looks?”
Chu Linlang smiled: “If he looked like Zhong Kui, the noble eyes of the palace would not endure it!”
Zhou Xiuling agreed, then boasted: “In that case, my brother could also serve as a royal tutor. His looks would surely please the nobles!”
She was not exaggerating—her brother Zhou Sui’an was refined and elegant, gentle as jade, always drawing admiring gazes.
Chu Linlang, knowing her sister-in-law’s pride in her brother, teased, “So you mean your brother married too early. Otherwise, perhaps he could have wed a princess and made her your sister-in-law!”
The two laughed together. Chu Linlang then ordered Xia He to take the fish to the kitchen to be cooked. As she smelled the lingering fish scent on her fingers, she recalled Situ Sheng’s expression of distaste. Though dried fish was delicious, many disliked it. For some reason, his look of revulsion seemed oddly familiar—but she could not place where she had seen it before.
Just as she turned to go back inside, she overheard voices at the gate. It was Zhou Sui’an’s servant, Manfu, warming himself by the fire with the old gatekeeper.
Seeing Situ Sheng leave, he muttered: “At the banquet, this Master Situ pressed our lord to drink the most, getting him thoroughly drunk. And now he chased him home—was the wine not enough?”
The words were casual, but Chu Linlang caught their meaning. She quickly summoned Manfu and asked in detail about the conversation between Zhou Sui’an and Situ Sheng at the banquet.
Having stood behind his master the whole time, Manfu remembered clearly and recounted everything.
After hearing only a few lines, Chu Linlang understood. Her husband had been careless—after a few cups of wine, he had let slip the truth, revealing before Situ Sheng that the knowledge he displayed came from his wife’s guidance.
Chu Linlang knew her husband’s poor tolerance for drink, but she had not expected him to be so indiscreet before a man from the capital.
Thinking back on Situ Sheng’s sudden visit, Chu Linlang finally understood his true purpose—he hadn’t come to see her drunken husband at all, but rather to warn *her*.
The thought made sweat bead on her forehead. Restless after returning to her room, she began rifling through Zhou Sui’an’s bookshelf.
Later that night, when Zhou Sui’an sobered up, he saw his wife reading by lamplight at the desk and asked what she was doing.
Chu Linlang could recognize some characters, but after reading for too long, her eyes grew sore, and many sentences became hard to understand. She had searched for a while without finding answers and was growing frustrated.
So she simply asked Zhou Sui’an: “What sort of people were Empress Dowager Dou of Han and Empress Dowager Xuan of Qin?”
Zhou Sui’an frowned: “Why ask about such women who meddled in politics?”
After listening for a while, Chu Linlang finally understood—these women were all widows, notorious examples of female interference in government.
Could it be that Situ Sheng had guessed the pretext behind her false accounts and was warning her to restrain herself, not to meddle in her husband’s affairs, lest she end up a widow?
The more she thought about it, the more sense it made.
Still, if he was willing to caution her, it meant the Sixth Prince did not think poorly of her husband—at least the tutor was willing to intervene to salvage his reputation.
She admitted to herself that she should not be teaching her husband how to govern. At worst, she would simply avoid suspicion in the future.
Zhou Sui’an, not understanding, asked what was going on. Knowing his temperament, Chu Linlang did not want to alarm him, so she only said she had been curious after hearing stories while drinking tea, and wanted to check.
But she did remind him: “With Master Situ, you must speak openly and honestly, and offer what help you can. He is favored by the Sixth Prince—we cannot afford to offend him.”
Zhou Sui’an snorted dismissively: “He is merely a palace tutor, without any real official post. Though I respect his learning, I need not treat him as a superior. And the Sixth Prince—how can he neglect proper officials and instead rely on a young teacher as his strategist? That is favoritism, a violation of propriety!”
Chu Linlang shook her head helplessly: “Even if he were only a eunuch by the prince’s side, you should still show respect. Human relations are no less important than the knowledge in your books.”
Zhou Sui’an did not bother arguing further. What did his wife know of a gentleman’s integrity? She was born into a salt-merchant family, accustomed to flattering officials and clerks. His mind was full of ambition for his career, weighed down also by the troubles brought by his father-in-law’s arrival in Lianzhou, leaving him little mood for idle talk with his wife.
Still, since Situ Sheng had visited personally, he resolved to go early to the yamen the next day to see if the Sixth Prince had issued any orders.
Lianzhou’s old cases were tangled and deep, more complex than those of neighboring counties. He had expected the place to be filled with executions.
But the Sixth Prince, seemingly shaken by recent assassination attempts, had slowed his blade upon arriving in Lianzhou. In recent days, he had only summoned officials for questioning, recording their statements one by one. Yet as the inquiries went on, the officials began to realize something was amiss. The prince was clearly digging into old cases, many long forgotten—even those from ten or twenty years ago were being reopened.
Why dredge up such ancient matters? Lianzhou had seen several generations of officials—who could still remember such old histories?
In truth, even the Sixth Prince himself did not fully know why he was investigating them.
One day, while soaking in a steaming mountain hot spring with pines around them, Liu Ling asked Situ Sheng: “Sir, why are we examining so many old cases?”
Situ Sheng sat calmly at a tea table nearby, pouring boiling water over the tea leaves. Hearing the question, he replied slowly: “Lianzhou has long been a vital hub for transporting military supplies, and corruption here is worse than anywhere else. The officials here are closely tied to the army. Though His Majesty trusts Your Highness, he cannot be careless—lest you become too entangled and unable to explain yourself upon returning to the capital. So rather than investigate new cases, it is safer to review old ones, while also tracing the succession of Lianzhou’s officials over the years, to keep matters clear in mind.”
The Sixth Prince found this reasoning sound. Along the journey, his courage for killing had already waned.
Lianzhou was deep water, filled with men loyal to his uncle, Prince Tai, whose power overshadowed the court itself—even the Emperor gave him deference. If true conflict arose, the Emperor might not protect him.
Thus, probing harmless old cases was indeed the smoothest and safest path.