A few years ago, when Li Fuxiang was about six or seven years old, his lively nature was unmistakable. Even though he was confined, he couldn’t suppress his urge to play foolishly in the courtyard every day.
The mute woman couldn’t teach him to speak, but whenever he heard the crisp chirping of birds in the courtyard, he would mimic them with remarkable accuracy.
Every few days, someone would deliver meals to the mute woman. Through the simple conversations of the palace maids and eunuchs who came and went, Li Fuxiang, after listening for a while, would learn a few phrases. Although his articulation wasn’t very clear, it was convincing enough.
The mute woman gestured slowly.
Gao Yuexing waited patiently and quietly, then asked, “Why did he later refuse to speak?”
The mute woman reflected on the past, her expression becoming layered with complexity. “Once, he climbed over the wall in the middle of the night to play, and when he returned, he learned a phrase.”
Gao Yuexing asked, “What phrase?”
Using a series of extremely intricate yet unmistakable gestures, the mute woman conveyed the phrase:
“Zheng’s army will set out in ten days, with provisions leading the way. Report to the ruler: ambush and assassination at Tieshui Cliff.”
Upon hearing this, Gao Yuexing was initially confused. But with her sharp mind, she quickly connected it to a specific incident.
At the beginning of the ninth year of Jingle, unrest broke out again in the western borderlands as the Fox Hu tribe acted up and crossed the borders. Zheng Qianye, who had been stationed comfortably in the capital for several years, rushed to the battlefield overnight. However, during that campaign, there was a minor mishap: the provisions sent ahead were ambushed at Tieshui Cliff, nearly disrupting the army’s advance.
It was a startling yet ultimately harmless mishap. Thanks to Zheng Qianye’s caution and seasoned strategies, the situation didn’t affect the battle too much. The provisions were divided into three routes—one was ambushed, but the other two arrived safely at the front lines.
Gao Yuexing knew about this event.
This campaign later became one of the legendary accomplishments attributed to the veteran general Zheng Qianye, recorded in historical texts.
But how could Li Fuxiang, by climbing a wall, have overheard such a phrase?
The more Gao Yuexing thought about it, the more alarmed she became.
“Zheng’s army will set out in ten days, with provisions leading the way. Report to the ruler: ambush and assassination at Tieshui Cliff.”
Who had spoken these words?
Who had they been speaking to?
The departure date, route, and details of Zheng’s army were military secrets, absolutely not to be leaked lightly.
And who did the term “ruler” refer to?
Gao Yuexing could only think of the small Fox Hu Tribe nation that had repeatedly invaded the western borders.
Someone in the palace was passing information to the Fox Hu Tribe!
Though the Xiaonan Pavilion was secluded, it was still within the imperial palace!
Gao Yuexing couldn’t help but tremble. She opened her mouth to speak but covered it at the last moment. Using sign language, she asked:
“Is there a Fox Hu Tribe spy in the palace?”
The mute woman neither confirmed nor denied this.
Lowering her eyes, she continued recounting the events of that night.
Li Fuxiang was just a child, while the other party was a well-trained spy. Of course, Li Fuxiang’s eavesdropping hadn’t gone unnoticed.
It was only thanks to the mute woman’s vigilance that, after hearing the phrase Li Fuxiang had mimicked, she clamped her hand tightly over his mouth and sternly warned him to bury those words in his stomach, pretend he had never heard them, and never, ever repeat them.
Almost immediately after she gave that warning, someone broke into the Xiaonan Pavilion.
A man, wrapped tightly from head to toe, climbed silently over the wall and pressed a knife against Li Fuxiang’s back.
The mute woman was so terrified that her soul seemed to leave her body, and she collapsed to the ground on the spot.
The man pressed the knife against Li Fuxiang and demanded to know what he had just overheard.
Li Fuxiang, in truth, had only been mimicking what he had heard out of pure curiosity. Having had no one to teach him since childhood, even if he managed to imitate the words, he didn’t understand their meaning. But there was no way to explain this to the intruder, and even if he did, the man might not believe him.
The mute woman frantically gestured: “He doesn’t know anything. He’s a mute. He has never been able to speak.”
She repeated this countless times.
The intruder didn’t understand sign language.
But whether he understood or not didn’t matter; the mute woman desperately hoped Li Fuxiang would understand her intentions.
And he did.
He clamped his mouth shut.
He would be a mute.
The mute woman said, “The man wanted to test whether he truly couldn’t speak. He used red-hot tongs to pull out his fingernails one by one and then drove barbed steel needles into his ten fingers…”
The pain of ten fingers connected to the heart.
A six- or seven-year-old child subjected to such torture.
The mute woman continued, “Even at the peak of the pain, he didn’t utter a sound. From that day forward, he never spoke again, nor made a single sound, as if he had truly become a little mute.”
The courtyard was enveloped in a deathly silence, inside and out.
Gao Yuexing raised her hand to touch her chest. The pain was unbearable; even breathing felt difficult.
Being imprisoned was already cruel enough—why should her young highness have to endure such torment?
Gao Yuexing struggled to steady her breathing and asked, “Did that man eventually let you go?”
The mute woman replied, “The Xiaonan Pavilion wasn’t entirely overlooked at the time. I was still there, and our daily meals and monthly allowances were regularly delivered by assigned court ladies. If he had killed us, it would have drawn attention and alerted others.”
That was true.
It was thanks to the mute woman’s presence that they avoided disaster.
But there was still one question lingering in Gao Yuexing’s mind. “His Highness was only six or seven years old at the time, wasn’t he? At such a young age, without anyone teaching him, how was he able to imitate such a complex phrase? And after hearing it just once?”
The mute woman nodded solemnly. “He could!”
He truly could.
All of them, including Gao Yuexing, had underestimated Li Fuxiang.
Gao Yuexing paced anxiously back and forth in the courtyard before suddenly grabbing the mute woman’s hand and saying, “Come with me to report this to His Majesty!”
The mute woman hesitated.
Gao Yuexing knew what she was afraid of.
This matter involved military secrets and had happened so long ago.
No one dared to gamble on what the emperor might think.
If he chose to forgive, it would bring joy to all.
But if he became overly suspicious, they would be accused of knowing and not reporting.
Li Fuxiang had endured so much to finally receive the emperor’s pardon—was it worth risking it all again?
Gao Yuexing was struck by a chilling thought: to dare engage in such clandestine dealings with Consort Mei under the emperor’s very nose was beyond the courage of an ordinary person. If the perpetrator were a spy with unparalleled skill, however, it would make sense.
Moreover, the issue of spies was no trivial matter.
If there was a spy in the palace, the consequences would be unthinkable. What next? A change of emperors?
It could not be tolerated.
Gao Yuexing said, “Auntie, trust me. The emperor will not take his anger out on His Highness. I swear on my life, if His Highness is punished—be it death, imprisonment, or flogging—I, Gao Yuexing, will bear it alongside him.”
The mute woman was shaken by the resoluteness in her eyes, tears welling up. After a long pause, she nodded reluctantly in agreement.
Gao Yuexing dared not delay further and immediately pulled the mute woman to the study to present their case to the emperor.
Since the mute woman could not speak, Gao Yuexing pleaded on her behalf, recounting everything in precise detail.
To her surprise, there was no explosive anger as she had feared.
The emperor personally helped her up. His expression was somber, but his voice was steady. “You may go back for now. I understand. This matter must not be made public. Rest assured, I will investigate it thoroughly.”
His firm and reassuring hand patted Gao Yuexing’s shoulder, calming her unease.
She bowed and retreated, glancing back with every step. Once outside, she sprinted back to Qianqing Palace. From a distance, she saw Li Fuxiang sitting on the threshold, a book spread open on his lap, flipping through its pages with delight.
Before she could call out, he seemed to sense her presence, looked up, and greeted her with a smile, his eyes crinkling with joy.
Gao Yuexing walked over slowly. “What are you reading now?”
It wasn’t a proper book. The pages were filled with all sorts of bizarre illustrations.
Gao Yuexing flipped through it with her finger and discovered that he had somehow found a copy of the Classic of Mountains and Seas. Gao Yuexing smiled gently, her voice soft as if afraid a louder tone might shatter him. “Where did you get this?”
Fu Yun, who was nearby, answered, “Young Master Zheng came by and brought some trinkets and light reading.”
She was referring to Zheng Yunji.
Perhaps, compared to the obscure words, the illustrations were more captivating to Li Fuxiang.
Gao Yuexing, who had never read such casual books herself, sat down to join him.
Fu Yun dragged out a small bamboo basket from the inner room. It was filled with the items Zheng Yunji had delivered that day. Apart from the books, there were toys—clearly meant to amuse Li Fuxiang.
Gao Yuexing rummaged through the basket and pulled out a pair of delicate white jade horses.
“Do you like horseback riding?” Gao Yuexing asked.
Li Fuxiang nodded at first but then shook his head.
Gao Yuexing smiled. “But I love it. When spring comes next year, let’s go to the imperial stables and pick two ponies—one for you and one for me.”
To choose horses from the imperial stables required the emperor’s permission, but Gao Yuexing had already planned everything, confident the emperor wouldn’t refuse.
Li Fuxiang nodded in agreement.
Gao Yuexing leaned closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. This time, she didn’t gesture but instead spoke softly, “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
She waited for a long time, but other than the sound of steady breathing beside her, there was no response.
Gao Yuexing closed her eyes.
Forget it. She didn’t want to force him.
She instructed the servants to place the pair of white jade horses somewhere prominent so they would be visible at all times.
Later that afternoon, when they went to the martial training grounds, neither Zheng Qianye nor Zheng Yunji was there. The grounds were eerily empty, which was unusual.
Gao Yuexing immediately realized—they had started moving.
Pretending to know nothing, she took Li Fuxiang and headed back. If there were spies in the palace, deeply entrenched and difficult to uproot, then any leak of this matter could put Li Fuxiang in grave danger.
It wasn’t the first time they had tried to kill him.
The chaos at the Lantern Festival was a chilling reminder.
Thinking back to that event, Gao Yuexing suddenly wondered—was that assassination attempt, with its calculated chaos, truly just for revenge?
Could it have been a smokescreen?
Perhaps Imperial Physician Chen’s death was merely a cover for their real objective?
What they feared most was likely Li Fuxiang regaining his freedom and revealing the secret he had accidentally discovered that night to the emperor.
The more Gao Yuexing thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. Panic set in. Everywhere felt unsafe. They needed to return to Qianqing Palace as quickly as possible. Grabbing Li Fuxiang’s hand, she sped up her pace. Knowing that Ding Wenfu was secretly protecting them brought her some comfort, but she was still scared.
—
Meanwhile, the emperor’s study was so silent that the drop of a pin could be heard.
Present were only the emperor’s most trusted confidants:
The commander of the Imperial Guard, the director of the Jinyiwei, the minister of the Dali Court, Gao Jing, as well as Zheng Qianye and his eldest son, Zheng Yunji.
The clues Gao Yuexing had gathered over the past few days in the palace—scattered and fragmented—had been pieced together to form a chilling conclusion.
Zheng Qianye said, “The ambush at Tieshui Cliff back then was suspicious. I suspected there was a leak within the military, but I never imagined the spy was operating from within the palace itself. Their reach is truly remarkable.”
The emperor’s emotions were well-controlled, but his somber expression betrayed his inner turmoil. “It’s my fault. Over the years, I’ve neglected to manage the harem properly, allowing the Fox Hu Tribe spies to infiltrate.”
The director of the Jinyiwei stepped forward, speaking bluntly, “Spies are running rampant. The most pressing task is to uproot them completely. However, bait is needed to catch fish. May I ask, Your Majesty, who you plan to use as the bait?”