"Zhuzhu." Uncle Ming lifted his wide sleeve to pour Prince Chen a cup of tea: "His Highness Prince Chen has come today to discuss matters with your uncle. You see..."
"Uncle, official business comes first. You and His Highness take your time." Jiuzhu stood up. "I'll fetch more fruits and pastries."
"Little sister." Ming Cunfu chased her out to the courtyard gate, only to see Jiuzhu nimbly hop over the wall with practiced ease. He silently raised his sleeve to cover his face and sighed.
"Young Master." A servant approached him from behind. "The master asks you to retrieve the military strategy books he personally wrote from his study."
"Military strategy books?" Ming Cunfu felt a foreboding sense of dread. Surely his father didn’t mean those self-written manuscripts of his?
"Did Father specify which books?"
"The master said the ones on the fifth shelf from the left, third row."
So it really was those.
Ming Cunfu entered his father’s study, located the designated shelf, and pulled out all the books, dust flying as he patted them off. The thick cloud of dust sent him into a coughing fit.
"Are we lending these to His Highness or throwing out trash?" Ming Cunfu worried that one day his father would offend Prince Chen and get exiled to the borderlands again.
He took an ornate wooden book box from a nearby shelf and stuffed the books inside, cramming them tightly until they looked somewhat like treasured volumes.
When he returned to the courtyard with the books, the stone table was already laden with fruits and pastries. His little cousin was holding a teapot, pouring tea for Prince Chen, who was peeling an orange. Before finishing, he plucked a segment and held it to Jiuzhu’s lips.
"Father, I’ve brought the books." Ming Cunfu set them down and took the teapot from Jiuzhu’s hands. "Your Highness, please enjoy your tea."
Prince Chen glanced at Ming Cunfu, then placed the orange segment into Jiuzhu’s palm instead before turning to Ming Jinghai. "Minister Ming, is your son pursuing the imperial examinations?"
Ming Jinghai nodded.
"A scholar’s time is as precious as gold. Young Master Ming need not linger here." Prince Chen finished peeling the orange and handed all the fruit to Jiuzhu. "Young Master Ming, you should return to your studies."
In the end, Ming Cunfu was dismissed to his study. He patted the silver notes in his pocket, glanced at the wall through the window, then rolled up his sleeves and climbed out.
Though undignified for a scholar to climb walls, for the sake of the girl he admired, propriety mattered little.
"Master!" A servant rushed into the courtyard. "The young master has injured his leg!"
"What happened?" Though Ming Jinghai often complained about his son, he immediately stood and hurried over.
"The young master was climbing the wall, slipped, and fell."
"The bone was dislocated, but I’ve set it back." The imperial physician finished bandaging Ming Cunfu’s leg and washed his hands. "Minister Ming, rest assured. Your son is fine—just needs to stay off his feet and recuperate at home for some time."
"Thank you, Lord He." Ming Jinghai personally escorted the physician out before sighing. Young people these days were far too frail.
Prince Chen hadn’t expected his first visit to Ming Jinghai’s home to coincide with the man’s son breaking his leg. He glanced discreetly at Ming Jinghai, wondering if Jiuzhu’s uncle harbored superstitious beliefs—what if he blamed him for bringing bad luck?
"What an achievement—injuring yourself just by climbing a wall." Ming Jinghai reentered the room, scolding without mercy as he tucked his son in. "Even the dog Jiuzhu keeps could leap out of our courtyard without trouble."
Ming Cunfu: "..."
That wasn’t a dog—it was Jiuzhu’s beloved short-legged white pony, and it definitely couldn’t jump over walls.
Prince Chen silently lifted the heavy book box and stood. "Minister Ming, tend to your son. I shall take my leave."
Best to depart early, lest Ming Jinghai suspect this misfortune was his doing.
Scholars overthink things—caution was necessary.
"Your Highness, let me see you off." Jiuzhu stood up.
"Jiuzhu, wait." Ming Cunfu stretched out from under the blanket, stubbornly clutching her sleeve. "Do your sixth brother a small favor."
Jiuzhu turned to look at him, and Prince Chen paused as well.
"Sixth Brother, just tell me what you need." Jiuzhu was fond of Ming Cunfu. On their journey back to the capital from Lingzhou, he had taken great care of her, easing her worries about returning home by describing every family member, every plant in the household, and how much they had missed her.
"It’s nothing much." With his father and Prince Chen present, Ming Cunfu hesitated before pulling a poetry collection from under his pillow. "Miss Zhou from the Zhou family wanted this book. I happened to have it and planned to deliver it today, but then this happened. Could you take it to her for me?"
"Of course!" Jiuzhu tucked the book into her robes. "I’ll go right away."
"Also... Miss Zhou isn’t at her residence. She’s at Qingyun Teahouse." Ming Cunfu dug out forty taels of freshly acquired silver notes, then added twenty taels from his monthly allowance. "Accompany her to pick out some jewelry. Buy whatever she likes—or anything you fancy. This money... your sixth brother will cover it."
"Thank you, Sixth Brother!" Jiuzhu took the pouch of silver, but when she reached for the notes, Ming Cunfu’s grip didn’t loosen.
"Spend freely, especially on what Miss Zhou likes. Don’t hold back on my account." With that, he released the money and shut his eyes. "Go on."
"Alright." Jiuzhu secured the silver notes and pouch. "Sixth Brother is so generous."
The only reply was Ming Cunfu silently pulling the blanket over his face.
"I already had forty taels, and Sixth Brother gave me sixty—that makes a hundred!" Clutching the heavy pouch, Jiuzhu’s steps were light as she crossed the threshold.
Prince Chen, following behind, snorted. A mere hundred taels, and she’d already forgotten about him. Was he worth less than silver?
"So happy?" He quickened his pace to walk beside her, crossing his arms. "I’ll be leaving now."
"Mhm." Jiuzhu nodded cheerfully. "Safe travels, Your Highness."
"Nothing else to say?" Prince Chen took two slow steps before glancing back.
"Ah?" Jiuzhu blinked in confusion. "About what?"
"Never mind." He mounted his horse. "Have fun with your friend. I’m returning to the Ministry of Rites."
Women were all little deceivers. Once, she’d claimed Prince Chen was the best—now, with a hundred taels and a friend, she couldn’t even spare him a few more words.
Hmph. As a grown man, he couldn’t be bothered with a girl’s whims. Fewer words meant fewer troubles.
Jiuzhu hugged the pouch, watching the dust kicked up by galloping hooves as she waved at Prince Chen’s retreating figure.
He turned to see her waving, flicked his riding whip halfheartedly in response, and vanished around the street corner.
"His Highness seemed a bit upset." Jiuzhu frowned. "Could the Ministry of Rites be too demanding?"
She touched the poetry collection tucked in her sleeve and decided to first deliver the message for Sixth Brother. She couldn’t let Miss Zhou doubt his feelings just because she was slow.
Arriving at the teahouse, Jiuzhu immediately spotted Zhou Xiao, who was eagerly glancing toward the entrance.
"Miss Zhou!" Jiuzhu hurried over, slightly out of breath. "Sorry to keep you waiting."
Zhou Xiao peered behind her, a faint trace of disappointment in her smile. "Sit down and have some tea. Why are you in such a rush? And where’s your maid?"
"I came out today to run an errand for Sixth Brother." Jiuzhu pulled out the poetry collection and handed it to Zhou Xiao. "After hearing you were looking for this book, he searched through half the bookshops in the city before finally finding it."
As a younger sister, embellishing her brother’s efforts a little couldn’t count as lying.
Zhou Xiao flipped through the book, her eyes softening with shy delight. "Such a small thing—you didn’t have to go out of your way."
"Originally, I wouldn’t have needed to." Jiuzhu took a sip of tea. "Sixth Brother didn’t want me to tell you, but I thought you should know. This morning, he accidentally injured his leg. The imperial physician ordered him to rest at home for a few days, so he practically tugged at my sleeve, insisting I deliver this to you."
"He’s hurt?" Zhou Xiao tossed the book aside and grasped Jiuzhu’s hands. "How bad is it? What did the physician say?"
"Don’t worry, it’s just a dislocated bone—the physician already reset it." Jiuzhu patted Zhou Xiao’s hand reassuringly and then tapped the pouch Ming Cunfu had given her. "Before I left, Sixth Brother made sure I took you shopping. If you don’t spend any of this silver, I won’t be able to face him when I return."
Relieved to hear Ming Cunfu wasn’t seriously hurt, Zhou Xiao’s expression eased, though she still lacked enthusiasm for shopping.
"Come on, do it for me," Jiuzhu coaxed, linking arms with her. "If you don’t spend any, neither can I, and then this whole trip would’ve been for nothing. Have mercy on me!"
"Alright, I can’t let you go home empty-handed." Zhou Xiao chuckled. "Let’s go."
She carefully tucked the poetry collection into her own sleeve before leaving the teahouse hand in hand with Jiuzhu.
Noticing this, Jiuzhu grinned and led Zhou Xiao into a jewelry shop.
---
"We went through so much trouble to plant someone in Prince Chen’s residence, and now you’re telling me Yun Duqing has stopped using fragrances?"
"Master, none of us expected Prince Chen to suddenly change his preferences—he tossed out all the incense in his estate. Could he have gotten wind of our plans?"
"Are you suggesting there’s a traitor among us?"
"Not at all! Our informants in Prince Chen’s household spotted Prince Qi’s people."
"So Yun Yanze is secretly helping Yun Duqing?"
"It’s… not impossible."
"I recall Yun Yanze is overseeing the confiscation of a corrupt official’s estate today. If a family member were to suddenly attack him… what are the odds of success?"
---
"This bracelet looks stunning on you, Sister!" Jiuzhu and Zhou Xiao stepped out of the jewelry shop. "What a shame Sixth Brother isn’t here to admire it—I wonder if he’ll envy me for seeing it first?"
"Don’t tease me," Zhou Xiao pinched Jiuzhu’s soft cheek playfully. "Your wedding to Prince Chen is set for the second day of the second month after the New Year. We’ll see who laughs then!"
"Why would a wedding be funny?" Jiuzhu tilted her head, genuinely puzzled. "Two people who like each other, living together—isn’t that a happy thing?"
Her eyes were clear, like untouched lake water, and when she spoke of "liking" someone, there was no trace of ulterior thoughts—only pure, innocent joy.
Zhou Xiao was momentarily stunned, unsure how to respond.
"Look, there’s a snack stall ahead!" Jiuzhu let go of Zhou Xiao’s arm. "Wait here, Sister. I’ll get us something."
Zhou Xiao watched as Jiuzhu sampled a few treats before buying a large bundle, neatly wrapped in oiled paper.
"Why so much? Can you finish all that?" Zhou Xiao asked, bemused.
"It’s not for me!" Jiuzhu cradled the package. "These are for His Highness and Father. They have many colleagues at the Ministry of Rites—once shared, there won’t be much left. Oh! Your father is also an official there, right?"
"Especially His Highness. As the youngest in the ministry, sharing snacks helps build camaraderie." Jiuzhu explained earnestly. "My master always said, ‘No matter your status, never isolate yourself. Even the most capable person will fail without allies.’"
Zhou Xiao nodded thoughtfully. "Your master must be a learned person."
"Maybe?" Jiuzhu’s tone turned uncertain as she recalled her two masters’ antics—lazily arguing over who should wash dishes to avoid chores.
Their temple didn’t have many books, and her masters had taught her to write on a sand tray.
Why? Simple—they were too poor to waste paper and ink.
---
A woman’s sobs and a child’s cries echoed from a distance. Jiuzhu turned to Zhou Xiao. "Sister, do you hear that?"
"Don’t go over there." Zhou Xiao held her back. "That’s the residence of a disgraced official—they’re confiscating his property."
Ming Jinghai had only returned to the capital yesterday, and today this official was being raided. Anyone could guess he’d colluded with corrupt local officials to harm the people.
The infamous "Black-Faced Judge" lived up to his name—no corrupt official escaped his scrutiny unscathed.
"Property confiscation?" Jiuzhu’s curiosity grew. She’d never witnessed such an event. "Can we just watch from afar?"
"Fine." Zhou Xiao admitted, "I’m a little curious too."
After all, what harm was there in satisfying one’s curiosity?
The capital’s citizens were no strangers to confiscations. Since the Emperor’s reign, countless corrupt officials had been arrested—commoners’ lives had improved, and bad officials dwindled.
Imperial guards blocked the main gate, keeping onlookers at a distance, though crowds still peeked from corners.
"Who’s that handsome young man at the entrance? His hairpiece has gemstones—must be rich!"
"That’s Prince Qi, the famously virtuous prince!"
"The one who suppressed bandits and topped the imperial exams?"
"No, that was Prince Chen! Are you even from the capital?"
"If Prince Chen did all that, why is Prince Qi the ‘Virtuous Prince’? Did the Emperor play favorites?"
"Shh! Keep your voice down—do you want trouble?"
---
"Your Highness, we’ve confiscated 612,000 taels of silver and various jade artifacts from the Wang Family. This is the preliminary inventory—the exact count will take time." A Ministry of Revenue official presented the ledger to Prince Qi.
Prince Qi’s expression darkened. "A government official, embezzling so much—utterly despicable!"
The officials from the Ministry of Revenue dared not speak, for this Lord Wang was the uncle of Princess Roude’s consort, tenuously connected to the imperial family. Were it not for this, Lord Wang would never have dared collude with provincial officials in such a capital offense.
In cases like these, the corruption often extended from top to bottom, implicating countless individuals. What if a member of the imperial family were dragged into it?
"Continue the investigation." Prince Qi bowed respectfully toward the palace. "Before this prince departed, His Majesty decreed that all involved in this case, regardless of status, shall face strict punishment."
"Your Highness, within the Wang Family’s inner residence, there is an infant less than a month old. What should we…?"
"Separate the women, elderly, and children for detention." Prince Qi glanced at the wailing infant cradled in someone’s arms, granting a measure of leniency out of respect for Princess Roude’s consort. "Keep the child’s mother with them."
"Understood." The official relayed the prince’s orders to his subordinates.
Watching these shackled individuals trembling in fear, Prince Qi was reminded of his own childhood—when he and his mother had been confined to a small courtyard. His mother often wept in their quarters, murmuring words of regret.
Later, she stopped crying. Instead, she would bring out meat and pastries, urging him to eat them hidden inside.
She told him his uncle had secretly arranged for the food to be smuggled into their quarters and that his uncle had even devised a plan to rescue them.
But she never revealed what that plan was. Not long after, the rebel prince stormed the palace, leaving the halls drenched in blood. Many princes were implicated, and in the end, his father emerged victorious.
Years later, when he asked his mother about it in the palace, her face turned deathly pale. From then on, he never brought it up again.
He disliked seeing women cry, just as he detested the two years of his childhood spent under house arrest.
"Your Highness! Your Highness!" A woman in chains, noticing his gaze, kowtowed frantically. "I beg for your mercy! My child is ill—please, show compassion and grant him medicine!"
She struck her forehead against the ground with such force that blood soon trickled down her face, painting a ghastly yet pitiful sight.
Prince Qi remained cold-hearted, but under the watchful eyes of the crowd, he had to maintain an image of benevolence. He stepped toward the woman.
"Jiuzhu, help me straighten my hairpin—it’s been knocked crooked!"
Jiuzhu?
Hearing the familiar name, Prince Qi stopped abruptly, just two paces from the woman. His gaze snapped toward the crowd of onlookers.
At that very moment, the kowtowing woman suddenly bit into her sleeve, retrieving a sharp blade, and lunged at him.
Prince Qi instinctively stepped back. The blade meant for his throat only grazed his chest.
Blood quickly soaked his robes. He looked down at the wound, pressing a fingertip to it. The pain surged through him the moment his skin met the warm blood.
"Protect His Highness!"
The crowd, stunned by the sudden attack, scattered in panic, fearing they too might be arrested as accomplices. Better to flee now—there would always be other spectacles to witness. Being jailed for treason wasn’t worth it.
"Ah!" Jiuzhu gasped at the sight of Prince Qi’s bloodied chest. She whispered to Zhou Xiao, "That woman… she doesn’t seem like an ordinary prisoner."
Who else but a trained assassin could kowtow so fiercely with bound limbs?
Was Prince Qi a fool not to notice such an obvious flaw?
"Don’t say anything—let’s go!" Zhou Xiao tugged at Jiuzhu’s sleeve, ready to bolt.
"Young ladies, wait!" A guard blocked their path. "Who are you?"
"These two are the daughters of Vice Minister Zhou and Vice Minister Ming. Show respect." Prince Qi, pale and clutching his wound, spoke weakly. "Miss Zhou, Miss Ming, this is no place for you. Please leave at once."
Jiuzhu glanced at the assassin, now motionless on the ground—whether dead or unconscious, she couldn’t tell.
Suddenly, a thought struck her. She lifted her skirts and ran.
"Jiuzhu! Where are you going?" Zhou Xiao called after her.
"I need to check on Prince Chen—what if he’s in danger too?" Jiuzhu shouted over her shoulder, already far ahead. Despite her haste, she never let go of the parcel of snacks in her hand.
Prince Qi frowned, watching Jiuzhu’s unladylike sprint through the streets.
"Your Highness, please rest inside—the imperial physician will arrive shortly." The guard captain’s face was ashen, his voice trembling.
"It’s nothing. A flesh wound, nothing vital." Supported by the guard captain, Prince Qi reclined on a hastily prepared couch in the inner courtyard.
Amid the chaos, his eyes narrowed. Which of his dear brothers had orchestrated this?
Or was it one of the imperial consorts, eager to clear obstacles for their sons?
"Your Highness!" The moment Prince Chen stepped out of the Ministry of Rites’ gates, Jiuzhu barreled toward him like a gust of wind.
She yanked him behind the gates, scanning their surroundings nervously. "Your Highness, the guards here—they’re highly skilled, right?"
"Of course. They’re handpicked elites from the Dragon Garrison." Prince Chen pulled out a handkerchief, dabbing at her sweat-drenched forehead with mock disapproval. "What’s gotten into you, running around like this?"
Hadn’t she barely spared him a word this morning, too busy spending silver with her friends?
Now she came looking for him?
"I ran too fast on the way here, that’s all." Jiuzhu shook her head urgently. "Listen, from now on, never go out without guards. Don’t approach strangers either—the capital is too dangerous!"
Prince Chen’s expression darkened. He tucked the soiled handkerchief into his sleeve and motioned for a fresh one. "What happened?"
"After shopping for jewelry with Miss Zhou, we stopped to watch the Wang Family’s confiscation. Then Prince Qi got slashed across the chest—there was so much blood!" Her words tumbled out in a rush. "He’s a prince, and so are you. What if the same people come after you next?"
"You ran here—all the way from the Wang Family?" Prince Chen’s voice rose. "Straight to the Ministry of Rites?"
Jiuzhu blinked. "Wh-what’s wrong?"
What’s wrong?!
Even by carriage, the journey from the Wang Family to the Ministry of Rites took nearly an hour.
And she had sprinted the entire distance on foot—just to warn him?
"Now that I’ve seen you’re safe, I can relax." She shoved a greased paper package into his hands. "Here, share these snacks with your colleagues. I tasted them first—they’re delicious."
"Jiuzhu." Prince Chen reached out, gently brushing away the dust from her cheek with his thumb, his voice tender and achingly soft: "Are you really such a silly little thing?"
