In the outer courtyard, though the flames had not yet spread, thick smoke was already drifting in with the wind. The air was heavy with the stench of burning, suffocating to breathe.
Baili Jun had just reached the ornamental gate with Qingluan when Qingwu caught up.
“Did you send the signal?” Baili Jun asked without turning her head.
Qingwu slipped a copper tube into her sleeve. “The Crimson Feather Guard will arrive within half an hour.”
From afar came the clamor of footsteps and shouts—the consort’s soldiers and servants rushing toward the inner courtyard to fight the fire.
Baili Jun drew a small crimson token from her sachet and tossed it to Qingwu. “Take this token. Meet Qingxian at the main gate. Tell them…”
She paused, her voice cold as ice. “Seize everyone in the consort’s mansion. Not a single living soul is to escape.”
Qingwu’s hand trembled as she caught the token, but she quickly tightened her grip. “Understood.”
Baili Jun turned to Qingluan. “You come with me to the study.”
They crossed the corridor and encountered two servants carrying lanterns. Before the men could react, Qingluan’s silver needles pierced their throats. The bodies collapsed, lanterns rolling to the ground. Flames licked the silk covers, quickly flaring into fire.
The study door was shut tight, locked with an ornate bronze clasp.
Qingluan stepped forward, pulling a silver hairpin from her coiffure. With a flick of her fingers, a mechanism at the pin’s end released a steel wire fine as hair. A few deft twists, and the lock clicked open. She tucked the pin away and pushed the door lightly. Standing guard, she lit a tinder stick and scanned the room. Finding nothing amiss, she stepped aside.
Baili Jun entered, her gaze sweeping swiftly across the chamber.
The furnishings were ordinary. On the desk, a brush still wet with ink rested in its stand—the strokes not yet dry. Clearly, someone had been here recently, writing something.
“Your servant once saw Ji Huai’an enter this study and linger before the bookshelf. There must be a secret chamber behind it,” Qingluan said, moving quickly to the shelves, feeling along the books and ornaments.
Baili Jun’s eyes narrowed, fixing on the carved vine patterns along the side. She traced the relief with her fingers, pressing against a hidden vein in the leaf.
*Click—*
The bookshelf slid aside silently, revealing a narrow, shadowed passage.
The mechanism was exquisitely concealed, the decorative carvings hiding a labyrinth of interlocking gears. Had she not seen similar designs at Mount Cangwu, even she might have been fooled.
Qingluan lit her tinder stick and stepped in first.
The passage was cramped and damp, the air thickening with decay the deeper they went.
Soon, they emerged into a wide secret chamber.
Qingluan found a candlestick by the wall and lit the candles within. As the flames flickered, the chamber’s contents came into view.
The walls were covered with military defense maps. On the central table lay a thick stack of documents.
Baili Jun strode to the maps, her heart pounding. Her eyes scanned the detailed markings of garrisons and troop distributions—all northern frontier secrets. Every note recorded rotation schedules and troop numbers. Even the Crimson Flame Army’s unique sentry patterns had been deciphered.
Her gaze darkened as it fell upon the date in the corner. It was the latest adjustment to the northern defenses—three months ago. These secrets were known only to the Grand General of the North and his four deputies.
Her cousin, Deputy General Xiao Lin, would never betray his uncle or the Crimson Flame Army. That meant one of the other three deputies was a venomous snake.
Perhaps more than one.
“Your Highness!”
Baili Jun’s thoughts were interrupted by Qingluan’s cry.
Qingluan approached, holding a letter, her voice tight. “Look at this, Your Highness—it bears the Grand General’s personal seal!”
Baili Jun snatched it, her fingers brushing the final stroke of the character *Xiao* in the seal’s ink.
The crescent-shaped mark was missing.
She remembered carving that mark herself at age seven, mischievously using her cousin’s dagger on the seal’s base. For that, both she and her cousin had been punished by her uncle, forced to copy military texts for three days.
“It’s forged,” Baili Jun said calmly. She held the falsified border-defense order above the candle flame. Just as the fire was about to lick the paper’s edge, she withdrew her hand and tucked the letter into her sleeve.
This “evidence” might still prove useful.
The two continued searching the chamber.
“Your Highness!” Qingluan exclaimed again, pulling out a ledger and several letters from the desk. “Look at this.”
The ledger’s cover read *Grain Dispatch Records*. The ink was fresh, the handwriting Ji Huai’an’s—clearly a copied duplicate.
Baili Jun frowned. Ji Huai’an was only a lieutenant in the Imperial Guard. By rights, he should never have access to the Ministry of Revenue’s military grain records. But then she realized: having pledged himself to the Crown Prince, he would naturally be entrusted with such secrets.
She flipped through the ledger quickly, her fingers halting on one page. It recorded that in the winter of Yuanqi Year 25, four hundred thousand *shi* of grain were sent to the northern frontier. Yet nearly half was missing upon arrival. Each line ended with the note: *Transferred to Quanzhou.*
Northern grain was always shipped from Jiangnan, passing through Fuzhou port. Fuzhou and Quanzhou were neighboring cities. And Quanzhou was the stronghold of the Crown Prince’s maternal Su clan. The prefect of Quanzhou was also surnamed Su.
The destination of the missing grain was obvious.
“What brazen theft,” Baili Jun muttered, fury rising in her chest. The ledger crumpled in her grip. She remembered that winter of Yuanqi Year 25, when the northern tribes launched a massive invasion and the frontier was desperate. The soldiers fighting to the death at the frontlines had been starving all along.
Baili Jun drew a deep breath, forcing herself to calm. Anger would solve nothing. Evidence was what mattered now.
This ledger, hidden in such a secret chamber, was surely Ji Huai’an’s leverage against the Crown Prince. It could not be false.
She set the ledger down and picked up one of the letters. The first was dated a year ago—the very day she became betrothed to Ji Huai’an.
“Now that the marriage is settled, may Brother Huai’an not forget our agreement. Also, Zhaohua is sharp in nature; be cautious at her side. The bird is caged, the net must be drawn tight. Zhaohua’s heart pulse is unique—be sure to take it alive. Once the matter is done, I will fulfill my promise.”
Baili Jun’s nails dug into her palm, crumpling the paper.
A special heart pulse? Why was her heart pulse special? What did the Crown Prince want with her heart?
The fog thickened, the mystery deepening.
At that moment, Baili Jun’s desire to uncover the conspiracy behind it all was overwhelming.
“Your Highness?” Qingluan asked worriedly. “Your face…”
Baili Jun raised her hand to silence her, continuing to read the other letters.
One bore fresh ink—clearly written recently.
“The northern frontier’s military secrets have been leaked as planned. All is under control. In ten days, I will personally bring the northern reports and evidence to the capital for the audience, thereby securing Xiao Yan’s conviction of treason…”
According to the date, those ten days had already passed. Today was the day.