The emperor pondered in his heart. Gao Jing braving the snow to enter the palace today likely wasn’t just to report such a trivial and insignificant result. So, he asked, “Does Minister Gao have any other discoveries?”
Gao Jing nodded, “I do. Regarding the cause of death of Lady Mei, I have uncovered some suspicious points.”
The emperor said, “Didn’t she commit suicide out of guilt?”
Gao Jing countered, “Did Your Majesty personally see her appearance in death back then?”
The emperor shook his head.
That night, just after he left the Xiaonan Pavilion, Lady Mei hanged herself before dawn. He hadn’t bothered to inquire further, leaving the entire matter to Noble Consort Xian to handle.
It was said her death was particularly gruesome.
Gao Jing said, “Of the people from Xiaonan Pavilion back then, not many remain. I visited a few palace servants responsible for preparing Lady Mei’s body. According to them, when she died, her hair covered her face, her eyes bulged, and her tongue stuck out nearly half a foot long… just like the tales of hanged ghosts.”
The emperor frowned in distaste. “What’s unusual about that?”
Gao Jing replied, “Her death appearance was abnormal. In folk tales about hanged ghosts, it’s widely believed that those who hang themselves must die in terrifying ways. However, that’s not true. In reality, people who hang themselves die from cervical dislocation—a very quick death with minimal pain or struggle.”
“In contrast, deaths resembling hanging, such as strangulation or throttling, cause suffocation, leading to far more pain before death. In severe cases, the eyes burst, and the entire tongue lolls onto the chest.”
Gao Jing slowly stated his conclusion, “Based on Lady Mei’s death appearance, in my opinion, she might not have hanged herself.”
The emperor said, “Someone killed her.”
Gao Jing replied, “Unfortunately, it’s been too long. I have no way to start investigating.”
The emperor tapped the table and said, “I don’t necessarily need to know the truth, but the palace spies must be thoroughly cleaned out. As for the beginning and end of the matter back then, forget it. It’s not important anymore.”
The emperor seemed remarkably unconcerned.
Gao Jing then mentioned at an appropriate moment, “I wonder how the arrangement Your Majesty set up in the palace is progressing?”
The emperor, unwilling to discuss further, replied indifferently, “Everything is as usual. Minister Gao, return and await good news.”
Gao Jing said, “My second daughter, Gao Yuexing, has been in the palace for nearly half a year. My wife misses her deeply and has been quite despondent. I dare to ask Your Majesty for a favor—may my wife be allowed to enter the palace to visit?”
Since retrieving Li Fuxiang, the emperor had become especially sympathetic to parental concerns. He replied, “It’s human nature. Once this matter is resolved, I’ll have Noble Consort Xian arrange it.”
Outside the study, Ding Wenfu held Li Fuxiang’s cloak, anxiously waiting.
As Gao Jing exited, he happened to witness Ding Wenfu’s disheveled state. He couldn’t help but glance at him a few more times. Ding Wenfu, however, didn’t dare meet Gao Jing’s gaze and used his messy hair to somewhat conceal himself.
Gao Jing grew slightly suspicious but didn’t inquire further. Braving the snow, he walked out of the imperial city. Outside the palace gates, his carriage was parked in a sheltered spot. The servant driving the carriage was inside a nearby tea shop, drinking hot soup. Upon seeing his master emerge, the servant quickly came forward to greet him.
The servant, around fifteen or sixteen years old, still had a face full of youthful innocence. His nose and cheeks were red from the cold. “The snow is so heavy this year. My lord, have a bowl of hot soup to warm up.”
Gao Jing frowned. “Didn’t I tell you to warm up in the carriage?”
The servant chuckled sheepishly. “There isn’t much charcoal in the carriage. I didn’t know how long you’d be in the palace, so I was afraid of burning it all and leaving you cold on the way back.”
Supported by the servant, Gao Jing climbed into the carriage. The servant followed closely behind, preparing to light charcoal for warmth. However, while touching the box, he felt a small pouch—delicate and exquisite, clearly something belonging to a young lady.
The servant let out a small exclamation, “Huh? My lord, is this something you left behind?”
Gao Jing took the small pouch from the servant’s hands, finding it strangely familiar. When he opened it, a Dongzhu the size of a jujube fell out, strung with a colorful braided cord.
Just as Gao Yuexing had said before, Dongzhu pearls were precious; such a high-quality one was a rarity even in ten years. Gao Jing immediately recognized it as the full-month gift he had given to his second daughter years ago.
How could it have ended up in his carriage?
There was more inside the pouch. Feeling something soft, Gao Jing inspected further and pulled out a piece of white silk. On it was a glaringly conspicuous bloodstain—still fresh.
Gao Jing’s steps faltered. He immediately turned back toward the palace. Upon arriving outside the imperial study, he could hear the sounds of objects being smashed inside.
Had His Majesty lost his temper?
Gao Jing didn’t care to wait. He forced the eunuch to announce his presence immediately. Soon, the noise inside quieted, and a trembling eunuch opened the doors to the study.
Fragments of shattered porcelain teacups lay scattered at the doorway.
Official documents had been swept off the desk, scattered across the floor.
In the center of the hall, Ding Wenfu knelt with his head pressed to the ground, not daring to raise it.
Gao Jing had no idea what had suddenly enraged the emperor. Just moments ago, everything had seemed fine.
Facing Gao Jing, the emperor deliberately restrained his temper somewhat and asked, “Minister Gao, you have returned so quickly—what pressing matter do you have?”
Fixing his gaze on the emperor’s face, Gao Jing presented the blood-stained silk and the Dongzhu pearl. “I had not yet left the palace gates when I received this brazen threat. I ask Your Majesty—can you assure me my daughter is still safe?”
The emperor stared at the Dongzhu, silent.
Gao Jing, ever sharp, noticed the subtle change in the emperor’s expression. A cold dread spread through him. “What is Your Majesty planning? Why can you not share it with me?”
His second daughter had just turned six this year. She had been raised in the safety of the inner chambers, shielded from any hardships. As delicate as a porcelain doll, she was treasured by the entire family, who feared even a single touch might break her.
At this moment, Ding Wenfu, still kneeling on the ground, spoke up: “Minister Gao, please remain calm. His Majesty has hidden the children in Qianqing Palace under my care. It was my negligence that led to this mishap. Now, not only is your beloved daughter missing, but even the young prince has vanished without a trace.”
Gao Jing froze.
The emperor closed his eyes briefly, unable to fully conceal the worry on his face.
Doubt began to stir in Gao Jing’s heart. Would the emperor risk his long-lost son?
He is the emperor—there’s nothing he wouldn’t do.
At the same time, he is also human—flesh and blood, with limits.
Only Ding Wenfu knew the full truth but could not speak of it. He had to find a way, even resorting to mentioning Li Fuxiang, to dispel Gao Jing’s suspicions. While the emperor’s actions were undoubtedly questionable, in critical moments, ruler and minister could not afford division.
The emperor picked up the Dongzhu, clutching it tightly in his hand, and spat out his words with ferocity: “The spies are audacious. I will root them out completely!”
Gao Jing was ordered to remain in the palace and await further news.
The emperor returned to Qianqing Palace, where he met with someone.
A eunuch stepped forward to assist the emperor in changing his clothes. His lips tightly pressed together, he leaned close to the emperor’s side and whispered two words, audible only to the two of them—“Eastern Palace.”
Without pausing or showing any unusual signs, the eunuch carried the emperor’s discarded clothing and left in an orderly manner.
Ding Wenfu handed the ink jade double-ring pendant he had picked up in the snow to the emperor and reported softly, “Your Majesty, I saw it clearly at the time—Miss Gao intentionally unfastened it and left it at the scene.”
The emperor sighed, “Clever and composed even in peril. Gao Jing has a remarkable daughter.”
At this moment, Gao Yuexing, trapped in the Eastern Palace, had no idea that she was merely a pawn. She genuinely believed that her father had uncovered something critical, provoking these bandits to take desperate measures. Thus, she began thinking of every possible way to send a message outside.
Every two hours, that person would come to demand something that could prove her identity.
The second time, she handed over a bracelet made of small Dongzhu pearls. She truly had nothing particularly special left on her, so the person shifted his gaze to her fingernails.
Gao Yuexing shuddered.
Her nails, freshly trimmed and rounded that morning, were dyed with juice from impatiens flowers. To that person, a child’s nails seemed the most unique item. He ordered someone to bring a pair of tongs.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle. Just one nail—it won’t hurt.”
Gao Yuexing was, of course, terrified. The pain of a fingernail being removed, directly tied to the nerves, was unimaginable. Watching the tongs inch closer, she had already shrunk into the corner of the wall, with nowhere else to retreat. Ultimately, she couldn’t escape this torment.
The man grabbed her delicate arm and forcibly pulled out the nail on her pinky finger.
Her wailing cries echoed through the prison. Beyond the physical pain, what weighed on Gao Yuexing’s mind was something else entirely.
Years ago, when Li Fuxiang was also six years old, he had ten nails pulled out. How much more agonizing must it have been for him? A genuine child, innocent and defenseless—how deep must his despair have been?
Gao Yuexing’s gaze hardened with resolute hatred.
The man wrapped her wound with a piece of cloth and said, “Blame your father for refusing to save you. If he would just hand over what he’s found, I would return you safely at once.”
Gao Yuexing asked, “What exactly do you want?”
The man didn’t answer and only left her with, “I’ll be back in two hours.”
Left alone again, Gao Yuexing waited silently. From a corner, she heard the sound of a rat gnawing at straw mats. After the man left, he always left a wall lamp burning, which would last about half an hour. In that brief period of light, Gao Yuexing glanced at the large gray rat in the corner.
It was fat and unafraid of people, its sharp eyes vigilantly fixed on her.
Water droplets rolled down the damp stone walls in a line. Gao Yuexing looked up and instinctively guessed that this place must be underground. The area she was confined to had only one cell, but the space beyond wasn’t completely sealed.
The man entered from a door leading outside.
The opposite direction led to a narrowing path. The lamp’s light couldn’t reach there, leaving the area in impenetrable darkness. Gao Yuexing felt it looked like a passageway.
The lamp went out.
Two hours later, the man returned as promised, holding the tongs.
By then, Gao Yuexing’s lips were dry and peeling from dehydration. Weakly, she said, “Stop pulling my nails. Let me write a few words to persuade my father, okay?”
She didn’t expect much and was prepared to negotiate further, but surprisingly, the man agreed quite readily this time.
Gao Yuexing took out a handkerchief from her pocket, unwrapped the bandage on her fingers, and used her still-bleeding fingertip to carefully write a line of poetry:
People experience joys and sorrows, partings and reunions; the moon waxes and wanes, dims and shines—such has been hard to perfect since ancient times. May we live long, and share the beauty of the moon together, even if far apart.
The man frowned and stared at it for a moment. “What kind of nonsense is this?”
The barbarian kingdom had no understanding of the romance cherished by the Central Plains.
Gao Yuexing hid her disdain in her heart, not showing it on her face. She said, “These are verses passed down from the ancients. I long to reunite with my family and do not wish for regrets in life, nor to die here. Deliver this, and my father will understand.”
Thus, three items now lay before the emperor and Gao Jing.
In the center lay the bloodstained fingernail of a child—a horrifying sight.
Gao Jing murmured under his breath, “Dongzhu, Dongzhu…”
Two Dongzhu pearls, and a single line of poetry.
The verse came from the well-known Prelude to Water Melody (Shui Diao Ge Tou), written by none other than Mr. Dongpo.
Dongzhu.
Dongzhu.
Dongpo.
Suddenly, clarity struck Gao Jing like a bolt of lightning. “Dong! The east! Your Majesty! Ah Xing is pointing me to the direction—east!”