Gao Yuexing reached out and grabbed a handful of snow, rubbing it on her face. She only needed half a cup of tea’s time to steady her mind.
That boundless sense of loneliness surged in her heart once again. She clearly understood that she had no one to rely on. On the contrary, she had to do many dangerous things because there was someone she absolutely had to protect.
Having made her decision, Gao Yuexing stepped toward the direction of the Xiaonan Pavilion.
But why had she been chosen as the target?
Gao Yuexing had no outstanding qualities except for being prone to overthinking.
As for the matter of espionage, she wasn’t at the center of the vortex. She hadn’t even seen the other party’s face. All she had done was report the situation to the emperor—at most, she could be considered a catalyst.
Planning an operation in the heavily guarded forbidden grounds of the imperial palace was undoubtedly no easy task. Any venture into such danger meant risking one’s life.
And yet, they were willing to risk their lives to deal with her.
What taboo had she violated?
Or perhaps she was merely a scapegoat or a target for revenge?
Gao Yuexing recalled the death of Imperial Physician Chen, reportedly slain with a single strike to the throat.
She had been distressed for a few days over his death.
Imperial Physician Chen had been pushed to the forefront by her. She couldn’t claim a clear conscience, but even if given the chance to do it over, she would make the same choice.
Gao Yuexing chuckled wryly at herself.
“I’m simply not a kind person. See? Retribution has already come…”
The flying snow narrowed and disordered her vision.
Gao Yuexing walked safely for a long distance until she saw the crumbling outer walls of the Xiaonan Pavilion. Among the scattered rubble, she also saw a figure dressed in black with their face covered. The person was lean and powerful, likely someone who had trained in martial arts for years. At their waist hung a pipa clasp and a pair of onyx jade rings.
The person clapped their hands and remarked with admiration, “Little girl, you’re truly extraordinary.”
Gao Yuexing stared at him from afar through the snow.
He waved to her and said, “Don’t be afraid. Come over here. You’re safe with me. If you’d taken any other path earlier, you’d already be dead.”
Gao Yuexing received a piece of information—he didn’t intend to kill her just yet.
“Why are you targeting me?” she asked.
The man replied, “You have a good father who investigated things he shouldn’t have touched.”
He approached Gao Yuexing. “Someone suggested I kill you as a warning, but I think it’s unnecessary. A living person is far more useful, wouldn’t you agree, clever little girl?”
Gao Yuexing retreated.
She could feel the smile behind his mask. She wondered if, back when he tortured Li Fuxiang, he had worn the same expression.
The small nation of Fox Hu Tribe had nearly been destroyed by Zheng Qianye four years ago. Even now, they harbored treacherous ambitions, still dreaming of a day when they could rise again.
Gao Yuexing’s memories spanned ten years into the past and future. In truth, not long afterward, they did manage to make a comeback.
But so what?
Gao Yuexing sneered coldly, thinking bitterly: In a few years, when our young prince has grown up, he will march straight into your country’s heartlands, trample your royal court’s grand tent underfoot, and use the 137 captives of your Fox Hu Tribe royal family to pay tribute to the brothers we lost in battle. The Great Xu Dynasty’s territory will expand westward to the northern desert, leaving no place for your petty Fox Hu Tribe nation to stand.
But the future is the future, and the present is the present.
Even if Gao Yuexing ground her teeth into powder, she couldn’t change her current predicament.
The man reached out to grab her.
Gao Yuexing was carried under his arm. She had already prepared herself—while feigning resistance, she deftly unfastened the twin jade rings hanging at his waist with her fingers. Luckily, the path was secluded and unswept; the rings fell into the thick, soft snow without making a sound.
Gao Yuexing raised her eyes, taking one last look back at the path she had come from.
Ding Wenfu was holding Li Fuxiang’s mouth shut, pressing him down behind a rock garden.
Li Fuxiang turned his head, watching helplessly as Gao Yuexing was carried away by the terrifying man. He opened his mouth and bit down hard on the webbing between Ding Wenfu’s thumb and index finger, filling his mouth with the taste of blood.
Ding Wenfu yelled, “You little—!!”
The little tiger cub truly became vicious when provoked.
The sharp pain made him flinch, but instead of letting go, he pressed even harder on the back of Li Fuxiang’s neck. “Your Highness, please don’t lose your temper. Stay calm. His Majesty has made arrangements, and he absolutely won’t let anything happen to Miss Gao.”
He had been repeating this ever since he caught up with him, but it was clearly in vain. Li Fuxiang didn’t understand a word of what he was saying.
Even so, Ding Wenfu kept talking, kept persuading, even though it was useless. He didn’t understand sign language, and knocking the prince unconscious and carrying him back would be far too disrespectful.
Li Fuxiang gradually stopped struggling under Ding Wenfu’s restraint, leaning docilely against the rocky outcrop.
Ding Wenfu hesitantly let go. Seeing that Li Fuxiang showed no signs of rebellion, he breathed a sigh of relief and draped the fox-fur cloak over his shoulders.
“Let’s go back,” Ding Wenfu coaxed.
Li Fuxiang didn’t move. He stretched out his arms toward him—was he… asking for a hug?
Ding Wenfu was taken aback. Not even the emperor had enjoyed such treatment. He bent down, allowing Li Fuxiang to wrap his arms around his neck. Carefully cradling him, Ding Wenfu was just about to steady himself when—
Out of nowhere, Li Fuxiang launched an attack, lifting his hand high.
While leaning against the rocks earlier, he had grabbed a handful of snow mixed with grit, which he now flung straight into Ding Wenfu’s eyes.
In that moment, the dignified vice commander of the imperial guards couldn’t react faster than a child. As his footing wavered, Li Fuxiang slipped out of his grasp. Just as Ding Wenfu reached out again, Li Fuxiang spread the fox-fur cloak and firmly draped it over Ding Wenfu’s head.
By the time Ding Wenfu tore off the cloak and climbed onto the rocks, he could only see a vast expanse of snow. Li Fuxiang’s figure had long since vanished.
Meanwhile, Gao Yuexing, being carried away, felt the world spinning. She tried to memorize the route the man was taking but suddenly found her eyes covered.
Gao Yuexing smirked. Approaching the Eastern Palace, she already had a map of the area imprinted in her mind. She could navigate it blindfolded.
The Eastern Palace had been abandoned for many years. Since the founding of the Great Xu Dynasty, it had almost never been left unused. The founding emperor, Xiao Wu, came from a collateral branch of the royal family and seized the throne with thunderous force. He never appointed a crown prince during his lifetime. His sudden death left the current emperor hastily ascending the throne as a prince.
Perhaps the Eastern Palace had once been glorious and prosperous, but after decades of abandonment, the scent of dust filled the entire grand hall. A closer sniff revealed a faint smell of decaying wood.
So, they were hiding in the Eastern Palace.
The emperor had no plans to appoint a crown prince for the time being. The Eastern Palace was usually maintained by just a few palace attendants for cleaning and upkeep, attracting little attention—indeed, it was an excellent hiding place.
The black cloth covering Gao Yuexing’s eyes was removed, but she was not greeted by light.
This was an absolutely dark, enclosed space. Her eyes couldn’t adjust for a moment, and she couldn’t even see her hand in front of her face.
Until—whoosh—a sound echoed, and a faint flicker of flame sprang to life. The man lit a wall lamp.
Gao Yuexing squinted slightly and found herself inside a cage, surrounded by steel bars forged with precision.
The man removed his dark mask, revealing a face that seemed oddly familiar, just like the palace maid who had led her earlier. It gave her a strange sense of déjà vu.
Gao Yuexing asked, “Have we met before?”
“Of course,” the man replied. “I am always in your line of sight.”
A chill ran involuntarily down Gao Yuexing’s spine.
The man, however, smiled. “Don’t be afraid. I assure you, you’re safe for now. Give me something to prove your identity.”
Instinctively, Gao Yuexing touched the jewelry she wore.
“Not jewelry. Something else.”
He was clever. A girl’s jewelry collection could be vast, numbering in the hundreds or thousands, with identical styles being common. Only a unique personal item could serve as an effective tool of intimidation.
Lowering her head timidly, Gao Yuexing stared at her toes, thinking for a long time. She had nothing on her except jewelry. Finally, she reached into her neckline, hesitating and fidgeting for a while.
The man, losing patience, stepped forward and extended his hand. “Give it to me.”
Gao Yuexing pulled out a pearl, oval and the size of a jujube, from beneath her collar. Its lustrous glow dazzled the eye, illuminating the room in brilliance.
“My mother said pearls of this quality are rare, perhaps one in ten years. I’ve treasured it and carried it close for many years…”
The man snatched the pearl from her hand, locked the cage tightly, and wrapped it with layers of chains.
Silence enveloped the room.
Leaning against the cold bars of the cage, Gao Yuexing stared at the faintly flickering wall lamp high above. It was the only light in the darkness. From its design, she deduced this must be the private prison of the Eastern Palace—perpetually dark, sealed off completely.
The oil in the lamp couldn’t last much longer. After a few final flickers, it went out entirely.
As darkness returned, Gao Yuexing couldn’t help but wonder: What crucial secret had her father uncovered to make them fear him so much?
The truth was, Gao Jing had indeed made a major breakthrough in the case of Consort Mei.
The maid Jinque, who had served by Li Fuqiu’s side for years, was indeed problematic. Gao Jing presented a written confession to the emperor.
In her confession, Jinque admitted to the crimes she had committed years ago without reservation. The statement was lengthy, spanning a full five pages, and was written in meticulous detail.
The emperor skimmed it briefly, his expression growing darker with every line.
Gao Jing summarized the confession’s content: “The scoundrel who had an illicit affair with Consort Mei years ago was a low-ranking guard from the imperial army assigned to the city gates. That guard was originally Jinque’s lover but later became entangled with Consort Mei. A concubine and a guard had many obstacles to meeting, so Jinque acted as the intermediary, facilitating their trysts.”
At first glance, this seemed utterly absurd, a complete farce. But the most shocking part of the story was yet to come.
Gao Jing: “When Consort Mei was five months pregnant, the guard realized that his actions would soon be exposed. He resigned early from his position and fled to the countryside, leaving no trace. He entrusted Jinque to occasionally take care of the Xiaonan Pavilion.”
The Emperor: “What is that guard’s full name, and where is his family? Issue an order to have him arrested and brought to justice immediately.”
Gao Jing: “The guard’s surname is Zhao, and his given name is Ertie. His family resides in Huaiyang Village, Pingnan Town. Your servant has already investigated. That man died eight years ago after freezing to death on the streets during a drunken winter night.”
The Emperor let out a cold laugh.
“So, in other words, all individuals involved in the case can no longer speak, and only she remains alive. Whatever she says must then be taken as the truth?”
Gao Jing gracefully cupped his hands.
“Your Majesty is wise. That is exactly the case.”