Meng Qianzi’s heart tightened, and she pushed off with the tips of her toes, darting swiftly into Changting Palace.
She moved so fast that the Imperial Guards stationed outside only caught a shadow flickering past, and though startled enough to give chase, they hesitated and stopped in their tracks, remembering the Prince of Xiang’s order forbidding any outside man from entering.
Xiao Jiuyi drew near, waved a hand at them, and strode quickly inside.
The moment Meng Qianzi entered, she saw a richly dressed man in his fifties, his face iron-gray with fury, choking a palace maid by the neck, murderous intent so thick in his eyes it seemed almost solid. The maid’s eyes had already rolled back, and she looked on the very verge of death.
Consort Chun cowered in a corner, covering her mouth in terror, trembling all over, her skin, already fairer than frost or snow, now white as no living person’s should be.
Meng Qianzi closed the distance to the man’s side, brought two fingers together, and struck fast and hard at the Quchi point on his arm. The strength in his hand vanished at once, and he was forced to release his grip.
Meng Qianzi caught the maid and dragged her some distance away from him.
“Cough, cough—” The maid coughed violently, and only then did the man come to his senses, storming toward Meng Qianzi in a fury and snapping harshly, “How dare you interfere in this Prince’s business, are you tired of living?”
“Imperial Grand-Uncle, what is all this commotion about?” Xiao Jiuyi’s figure appeared in the front hall.
The Prince of Xiang’s steps faltered, and reason finally returned to him. He pointed a trembling finger at the maid, his face full of grief and anger. “This dog of a servant just now, just now she actually covered her nose, as though the smell coming from this Prince’s beloved consort disgusted her!”
The moment Meng Qianzi had entered, she too had caught the faint, mingled stench of decay beneath the smoke of incense and burnt paper money, in the sweltering summer heat, no matter how carefully a body was preserved, it could not outpace decomposition.
This Prince of Xiang truly was overbearing, forbidding anyone even to show discomfort.
Xiao Jiuyi gave the maid a flat glance. “She certainly does deserve death. Go accept your punishment.” Although he called it a capital offense, his tone let her off lightly.
The maid, tears in her eyes, knocked her head hard against the floor before him, then withdrew from the hall.
Meng Qianzi went to Consort Chun’s side and helped her up.
From the moment Meng Qianzi had entered, Consort Chun’s eyes had never once left her, her face filled with confusion and worry.
Meng Qianzi said in a low voice, “Your Ladyship, this commoner is Guan Jiu, sent by Little Prince Yong to investigate the matter of the Princess of Xiang.”
Consort Chun bit her lower lip, tears spilling from her eyes without end, nodding again and again, and said, choked with sobs, “I, I didn’t kill anyone…”
Watching her once matchlessly lovely aunt looking so haggard and wronged, Meng Qianzi’s heart ached, these three days must have worn her down terribly.
But Meng Qianzi could say nothing, and could only squeeze her hand comfortingly, then help her over to sit in a round-backed chair nearby.
Seeing this, the Prince of Xiang bellowed with fury, “Who told her she could sit? She caused this Prince’s beloved consort’s death, she ought to be kneeling before her spirit tablet in repentance the whole time!”
Meng Qianzi glanced sideways at the makeshift mourning hall. What had once been the grand, magnificent front hall of the palace now hung with white banners from end to end, the curio shelf that had originally stood against the main wall had been roughly shoved aside to a side wall, and fragments of unswept porcelain still littered the carpet.
Atop the altar draped in white cloth stood the Princess of Xiang’s spirit tablet, three sticks of incense burning in the censer before it, an everlasting lamp set to one side.
The coffin, resting on blocks of ice, stood behind the altar, and in the brazier beneath it, ash still remained from burnt paper money. On the Persian carpet in front of the brazier were two deep indentations, clearly the marks of someone who had knelt there before the spirit tablet for a very long time.
Meng Qianzi remembered how, just now, when she had helped her aunt walk over, her steps had been unsteady, no doubt from kneeling too long. Anger and heartache rose together in her, and she almost wished she could burn this mourning hall to the ground.
Was this what it meant to be the Emperor’s uncle, to torment people so, to disregard the law entirely and vent one’s fury however one pleased?
Even a suspect guilty of the worst crimes imaginable was still owed a proper interrogation before being convicted, and yet this man had simply gone straight to private punishment!
What she could not understand was how the Emperor could allow the Prince of Xiang to run so wild…
At that thought, the corner of her mouth curved with scorn, and she said coldly, “Rather than venting your anger on the innocent, Prince of Xiang, wouldn’t your energy be better spent seeking clues to the Princess of Xiang’s death?”
The Prince of Xiang had not expected a girl of unknown standing to speak to him with such disrespect, and flew into a rage at once, pointing at Meng Qianzi and snapping harshly:
“Where did this wild girl come from, that she dares lecture this Prince? Jingrui, how could you let a lowborn creature with no regard for rank come investigate this matter?”
Xiao Jiuyi’s expression stayed mild, and he said unhurriedly, “Wasn’t it Imperial Grand-Uncle who refused to let any outside man touch the Imperial Grand-Aunt’s remains? Jingrui went to great trouble to find a woman skilled in this art. If Imperial Grand-Uncle is still displeased, then Jingrui will simply take her and leave.”
The Prince of Xiang choked, still bristling with resentment. “She’s nothing but a green-haired chit, what could she possibly know? Besides, the true killer is Consort Chun. It’s the two of you who insist the true killer must be someone else, this Prince never said anything about investigating for some other culprit!”
Xiao Jiuyi tilted his chin toward Consort Chun. “At the time it happened, though Consort Chun was inside Changting Palace, the maids around her can all attest that she had already retired early because she was feeling unwell, and only woke when a maid discovered the Princess of Xiang’s body. Out of respect for how deeply grieved Imperial Grand-Uncle was at first, Jingrui did not argue the point with you. But three days have passed, and Imperial Grand-Uncle still insists so stubbornly that Consort Chun is the true killer, it is hard for Jingrui not to suspect something.”
“Suspect what?” The Prince of Xiang’s bluster had been dampened by a good three parts, and he asked awkwardly.
“That Imperial Grand-Uncle has no wish at all to uncover the truth of the Imperial Grand-Aunt’s death.”
Xiao Jiuyi rose and walked slowly toward the Prince of Xiang, saying word by word, “That Imperial Grand-Uncle already knows the truth, and wishes to shield the real killer, choosing anyone at all to take the blame in their place!”
“You!” The Prince of Xiang’s face flushed crimson with rage, his lips trembling. “Impertinent! Don’t forget I am your Imperial Grand-Uncle!”
Xiao Jiuyi lowered his head with a soft laugh. “Then please, Imperial Grand-Uncle, don’t forget that Jingrui is not only an imperial prince, but also Commander of the Jinyu Si!”
The Prince of Xiang’s face went from red to blue-white, and he laughed coldly, again and again. “Fine, fine, my good grand-nephew actually means to press this Prince with the Jinyu Si. Very well then, this Prince will just see exactly what this Commander of the Jinyu Si can dig up!”
Xiao Jiuyi shifted his tone, growing somewhat gentler. “In that case, Jingrui asks Imperial Grand-Uncle’s cooperation going forward, please refrain from taking any further action that might interfere with the investigation.”
The Prince of Xiang swung his arm hard, laughing in furious contempt. “Investigate, then! If nothing comes of it, this Prince will report you to His Majesty personally!”
Xiao Jiuyi said nothing more, and looked toward Meng Qianzi.
Meng Qianzi understood at once, and hurried behind the altar, lifting the lid off the Princess of Xiang’s coffin and letting it fall heavily to the floor, entirely unconcerned about whether the fine golden-thread nanmu wood might be damaged.
“You!” The Prince of Xiang’s face went ashen, his eyes seeming almost to spit fire. He pointed at Meng Qianzi, too furious for words for a long moment.
Meng Qianzi said lightly, “My apologies. This commoner’s hand slipped.”
Xiao Jiuyi’s sharp eyes curved slightly, though in the end he held back his laughter.
A wave of foul, corpse-tainted air rushed out. Meng Qianzi held her breath, pulled on the sheep-gut finger guards Qingzhou had prepared for her earlier, and gently lifted the piece of human skin resting beside the body’s hand, laying it over the edge of the coffin.
Only then did she look at the Princess of Xiang’s body.
What surprised her was that the Princess of Xiang had been a beauty barely twenty years of age. Even in death, so gruesomely marked, her eyes bulging and her skin already covered in lividity, one could still see traces of her original loveliness.
She reached out and gently traced her fingers over the Princess of Xiang’s neck, where two strangulation marks showed, one deep, one shallow to the touch.
Meng Qianzi’s brow furrowed sharply, and she closed her eyes to think it through.
What kind of circumstance could produce two strangulation marks of such different depth?