The night was as dark as ink, and Shengjing, where the drizzle had just ceased, was permeated with a damp, musty odor.
When Nan Yanxiu emerged from Fuyun Lou, the bluestone pavement still shimmered with water, reflecting the faint glow of the remaining lanterns beneath the eaves.
He should have returned directly to the prince’s residence, but at the corner, he suddenly turned toward the county magistrate’s office.
A day earlier, the Ministry of Justice had just transferred the body of Zhao Xuande, the Vice Minister of Revenue.
"Your Highness, shall we prepare a sedan chair?" a retainer asked, hurrying forward with a lantern.
"No need." Nan Yanxiu waved his hand dismissively, his dark brocade robe fluttering in the wind like crow feathers.
He gazed thoughtfully in the direction of the county magistrate’s office. Moonlight cast uneven shadows across his sharply defined face, making his eyes gleam like cold stars.
After the third watch sounded, a dark figure swept over the rear wall of the county magistrate’s office.
Nan Yanxiu had changed into night attire made of specially crafted matte silk, which made even the rustling of his sleeves nearly inaudible as he moved.
He landed as lightly as a falling leaf outside the window of the morgue, pressed a specific spot on the window frame, and the mechanism lock clicked open.
Inside, the room was filled with the heavy scent of camphor and lime.
Zhao Xuande’s body lay covered with a white cloth, its human outline visible under the moonlight.
When Nan Yanxiu lifted the cloth, lividity had already formed purplish-red cloud-like patterns. The body was decaying faster than he had anticipated.
"The one who knows the murderer best is the victim himself."
He murmured softly, retrieving a pair of sharkskin gloves from his sleeve.
As his fingertips brushed the corpse’s neck, a needle-sized puncture hidden along the hairline became visible. The wound, as fine as a strand of hair, was surrounded by an eerie bluish-purple discoloration.
When he examined the deceased’s hands, Nan Yanxiu suddenly froze.
Wedged beneath the fingernail of Zhao Xuande’s right ring finger were strands of pinkish-white flesh, starkly visible against the dark skin.
His hand remained steady as a rock as he retrieved a silver tweezer. The extracted skin flakes shimmered with a pearly luster under the moonlight.
"A woman skilled in martial arts…"
Nan Yanxiu narrowed his eyes.
This texture was distinctly characteristic of someone trained in martial arts, while the color indicated the person rarely saw sunlight.
As he turned, the hem of his robe stirred a breeze, rustling an embroidered sachet on the table adorned with twin lotus flowers.
The sachet felt weightless in his hand, but when Nan Yanxiu untied the string, a familiar cold fragrance wafted toward him.
"Spring Message in Snow," a secret incense formula from the previous dynasty’s palace—who would still use such a fragrance today?
Suddenly, a flare of torchlight illuminated the outside.
Nan Yanxiu swiftly concealed himself in the shadows of a beam, watching as patrolling guards passed by with torches.
In the flickering light, he glimpsed two tiny characters embroidered on the sachet’s inner lining: "Yu Lou." This was not an item from the Zhao residence but rather from "Yu Lou Yin," the most renowned embroidery workshop in the southern part of the city.
Before leaving, he deliberately detoured past the evidence shelf, his fingertips brushing over the registry.
Among the rain-washed records of the scene, one entry stood out: "One sachet, tied to the deceased’s waist, containing several dried petals."
Returning to the study in the prince’s residence, Nan Yanxiu spread out a plain sheet of paper under the lamplight.
Three points of suspicion emerged from the flowing ink: a woman capable of assassinating a fourth-rank official at close range, a specially supplied incense, and a delicate embroidered item found on a male corpse.
He suddenly recalled Yue Linyan’s seemingly delicate and boneless hands—the fingertips of a pipa player should not have such thick calluses.
"Mo Yu." He called softly into the dark night, his voice cold as a frost-covered blade.
"Swish—"
A dark figure landed as silently as a falling leaf outside the study, kneeling on one knee. "What are your orders, Your Highness?"
Nan Yanxiu did not lift his head, the candlelight casting uneven shadows across his sharply defined profile. "The matter I asked you to investigate the other day—do you have any results?"
Mo Yu retrieved a scroll of copied account books from his robe and presented it with both hands. "Your Highness, the Ministry of Revenue records have been examined. Last month, the national treasury allocated three thousand taels of gold for flood relief in Jiangnan. The official in charge was Zhao Xuande."
He paused, lowering his voice. "The accounts appear clean on the surface, but there is one anomaly—the entry for 'repairing drainage channels' alone cost two thousand taels of gold."
"Two thousand taels?"
Nan Yanxiu's gaze sharpened, his fingers tightening slightly as he took the account book. "Are Jiangnan's drainage channels paved with gold?"
A bold conjecture formed in his mind—could it be that this Huakui was the assassin who killed Zhao Xuande?
"Find out the background of Fuyun Lou," Nan Yanxiu said coldly. "Especially Yue Linyan. I want to know every transaction she made, every client she had in the past three years."
Mo Yu looked troubled. "Your Highness, Fuyun Lou has a complicated background. It is said to have support from the martial world…"
"Then start investigating from the martial world," Nan Yanxiu interrupted, lightly tapping the table with his fingertip. "Someone capable of assassinating a fourth-rank official up close is no ordinary person."
Outside the window, dark clouds obscured the moon, and the shadows of trees swayed.
He raised his eyes to the pitch-black night sky, a turbulent undercurrent stirring in his gaze. "Tomorrow, I will pay another visit to this Miss Yue."
Hearing this, Mo Yu quickly reminded him, "Your Highness, tomorrow is the day you are to enter the palace to pay respects to His Majesty. The Emperor inquired about you just the other day…"
Nan Yanxiu's expression softened slightly, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the coiling dragon jade pendant at his waist—a gift from the Emperor when he came of age.
"Understood," he said calmly. "After the audience with His Majesty, I will go to Fuyun Lou."
Mo Yu bowed in acknowledgment and was about to withdraw when Nan Yanxiu suddenly asked again, "Who was the last person Zhao Xuande met before his death?"
"According to the gatekeeper, it was a veiled woman who requested an audience holding Lord Zhao's jade pendant," Mo Yu replied hesitantly. "That pendant… upon verification, was confirmed to be a family heirloom of the Zhao family."
Nan Yanxiu's eyes darkened abruptly, the vermilion brush in his hand staining a crimson blotch on the case file.
He slowly looked up. Outside the window, the twilight was heavy, mirroring the obscure and uncertain expression on his face. "The secrets of Fuyun Lou and Yue Linyan…" His fingertip lightly tapped the desk, producing a dull sound. "I intend to study them thoroughly."
Under the candlelight, the faint crease between his brows appeared and disappeared—a habitual expression when he was deep in thought.
Suddenly, his finger paused, resting on the four characters "red jade earring." The corner of his mouth lifted into a meaningful curve. "The plot grows richer… the mark of Zuiyue Lou, the Zhao family's jade pendant, and…"
A gust of night wind blew through the window, rustling the papers on the desk and scattering his unfinished words.
The next morning, at the first light of dawn.
Nan Yanxiu, dressed in a black brocade robe with a jade belt lightly cinched at his waist, walked steadily through the palace gates.
The morning dew had not yet dried, and his tall figure was reflected on the bluestone path within the palace walls.
His expression was stern, but his eyes concealed deep contemplation. He held a secret memorial tightly in his hand, his knuckles slightly white.
Inside the Chenxiao Hall, wisps of blue smoke rose, the scent of Agarwood Incense permeating the hall, refreshing the mind.
The Emperor reclined on the dragon couch, holding a scroll of memorials in his hand. A trace of weariness lingered between his brows, but when he saw Nan Yanxiu enter the hall, a hint of relief still surfaced in his eyes.
"Your son pays respects to imperial father."
Nan Yanxiu knelt on one knee, his voice low and respectful.
The emperor set down the memorial and gestured for him to rise, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Yan'er, you've come. No need for formalities."
Nan Yanxiu stood up, his gaze falling on the emperor's somewhat pale face. His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. "Has imperial father's health improved in recent days?"
The emperor nodded slightly, his tone gentle. "I am already well. It's just some old ailments; a few days of rest will suffice."
He paused, his gaze deepening as he looked at Nan Yanxiu. "But you—running about investigating cases day after day—have you tired yourself out?"
Nan Yanxiu shook his head, his eyes resolute. "Your son has been ordered to pursue the 'Shigu Ge' case and now has leads."
He paused briefly, his voice lowering a notch. "Imperial father need not worry. Your son will not fail in his mission."
The emperor sighed, a trace of complexity flickering in his eyes. "I know your two elder brothers are not up to the task, unfit for great responsibility."
He lifted his gaze toward the hall's entrance, as if pondering something, and only after a long moment did he speak again. "This empire and its people will, in the end, need someone to shoulder the burden."
Nan Yanxiu's expression remained unchanged, and he only said softly, "Sharing imperial father's worries is your son's duty. As long as imperial father remains healthy, your son asks for nothing more."
Hearing this, a glimmer of relief flashed in the emperor's eyes. He reached out and patted Nan Yanxiu's shoulder. "You understand what matters. That brings me great comfort."
For a moment, the hall fell silent, with only the faint blue smoke from the incense burner slowly rising.
After a while, the emperor seemed to recall something, and his tone lightened slightly. "The day before yesterday, the empress mentioned selecting a consort for you. Have you found anyone you favor? Tell your imperial father."
A flicker passed through Nan Yanxiu's eyes as the image of the woman beneath the Blood Moon that night abruptly surfaced in his mind.
He pressed his lips together slightly, suppressing the strange feeling in his heart, and said calmly, "Your son does not wish to marry so soon."
The emperor chuckled softly, a hint of understanding in his eyes. "How can you not marry?"
He picked up his teacup, took a slow, deliberate sip, and then continued, "I have already chosen for you: Prime Minister Lu's daughter, Lu Qingqing. You grew up together since childhood. That child is sensible and can take care of you."
Upon hearing this, Nan Yanxiu couldn't help but frown.
Lu Qingqing—that cousin who had followed him since childhood, calling him "Brother Yan Xiu" at every turn, as if afraid others wouldn't know she had feelings for him.
He detested this feeling of being arranged for.
"Imperial father, your son currently wishes only to focus on investigating the case. Marriage… can be discussed later."
His voice was slightly cold, carrying an unyielding resolve.
Seeing his indifferent expression, the emperor was not angered but instead gave him a meaningful look. "Very well, we shall discuss this matter another day. However—"
He paused, his tone suddenly turning serious. "The 'Shigu Ge' affair involves many connections. You must be careful."
Nan Yanxiu nodded. "Your son understands."
The emperor waved his hand, signaling him to withdraw.
Nan Yanxiu bowed and took his leave, turning to step out of Chenxiao Hall.
Outside the hall, the morning light grew stronger, casting a sharp, cold shadow across his angular profile.
He lifted his gaze toward the horizon, a dark glint flashing in his eyes.
Shigu Ge, the woman beneath the Blood Moon, Lu Qingqing's marriage proposal…
All of it seemed to conceal unseen whirlpools.