The autumn wind rose, the plants and trees yellowed.
Deep moss stains were entrenched on the long steps of the courtyard.
In the Grand Preceptor’s Mansion, under the eaves white gauze lanterns swayed in the wind, and in the ancestral hall a row of black wooden tablets stood like a line of upright coffins, their shadows elongated by the dim candlelight.
Qi Yutai was entombed yesterday.
The legitimate heir of the Grand Preceptor’s Mansion had a funeral that was exceedingly austere. Rituals for the deceased were deed an ominous on, so the cause of Qi Yutai’s death was not publicized. Discussing the matter was forbidden in the palace, and to outsiders, it was rely said that Qi Yutai died abruptly of a serious illness.
Although word of the rituals had not spread, the common folk could not help but speculate. Qi Yutai was in the pri of life, and there had been no prior reports of any chronic illness; his sudden death seed inexplicable. Instead, the previous fire at the Fengle Building was once again the talk of the town, and the truth remained enigmatic.
From within the room ca a low cough.
Qi Qing sat inside.
Handling Qi Yutai’s funeral rites had rapidly weakened his already elderly body, and his gaunt, shriveled figure seed increasingly like a corpse in decay.
Qi Huaying had already gone to rest. As the Qi Family’s only daughter, she too had to welco the guests who ca to offer their condolences, which was no small task.
Emperor Liang Ming had ordered a thorough investigation into Qi Yutai’s death. The Third Prince obstructed this at every turn. How Qi Yutai actually died was considered unimportant; in comparison, the dispersal of mourning clothes and other inauspicious signs beca a more significant offense. Those who ca to offer condolences all put on a show of grief, but beneath the surface were various expressions: sympathy, schadenfreude, kicking a man when he was down—like a motley circus act painted over a funeral scene.
He had seen them all.
The silence deepened around him, the pale lanterns swung wildly in the wind, and the eerie green moonlight spilled onto the ground and his face, as if he were a ghost that had suddenly appeared alone in the hall.
In this silence, he suddenly spoke up.
"Where is the convoy of the dical Officer bound for Su Nan now?"
The Steward bowed and replied, "Yesterday it was heard that they are nearly across the Guangyun River. The continual rain has caused so delay. Once they cross the Guangyun River, they should reach ngtai."
Qi Qing shut his eyes.
The convoy of dical Officers heading to Su Nan had left several days ago.
On the last day, Lu Tong’s na was suddenly added to the roster of dical Officers for the relief effort.
Chang Jin had the audacity to disobey orders, and no doubt Pei Yunng had a hand in this, yet Qi Qing, preoccupied with Qi Yutai’s funeral and the challenges posed by the Third Prince, was too stretched to prevent Lu Tong from undermining him and fleeing far away.
Now that Qi Yutai’s funeral was over, it was ti to settle old scores.
He said indifferently, "Have soone follow them and find an opportunity along the way to kill her."
The Steward shivered, "Yes." Then he worriedly added, "But what about Pei Yunng... "
Pei Yunng’s last visit, with its threats, still rang in their ears. If anything happened to Lu Tong, he would not let Qi Huaying off the hook.
Qi Qing replied coldly, "Such arrogance."
The young Commander of the Palace Front Office had a few victories and had beco too conceited. He only had one son and daughter, and for the deceased Qi Yutai and the living Qi Huaying, Lu Tong also had to die.
No matter whether she was in Shengjing or Su Nan.
No matter whether the Qi Family ultimately won or lost.
The Steward dared not say more and simply accepted the order.
Qi Qing fell silent for a mont, then suddenly said, "Wait."
The elder lowered his gaze, slowly twirling his Buddha Beads between his fingers.
With Pei Yunng’s strong attachnt to this woman, he would assuredly have soone follow and protect her in secret. Moving now would only startle the snake in the grass.
After a mont, he said, "Take action after she reaches Su Nan."
"Yes, Master."
...
The cold night was deep, a lonely lamp like a phantom, and tonight’s moonlight seed even more desolate than ever.
Inside the secret chamber of the Privy Council, without a window, desk candles and wall torches reflected off one another, illuminating the ancient stone walls of the prison cell.
Xiao Zhufeng stepped down the stone stairs, placing a silver pot on the table.
Pei Yunng glanced at it, "Tea?"
"Life’s bitter enough, let’s have so liquor," said Xiao Zhufeng. "to ease your troubled look."
Pei Yunng smiled faintly, watching Xiao Zhufeng pour a small cup of liquor, pushing it across to him.
He picked up the cup, fiddling with it in his fingers, and clicked his tongue, "Having a drink before leaving feels a bit like a parting cup on the execution ground," he paused, adding, "Isn’t that a bit too inauspicious?"
"It won’t be." Xiao Zhufeng sat down opposite him and said blandly, "A man who is unlucky in love is lucky at the gambling table, and since you’ve hit rock bottom in matters of the heart, our plan is bound to succeed beyond expectation..."
Pei Yunng: "..."
He scoffed, lifting the cup to his lips. As the spicy and pungent liquor entered his mouth, Pei Yunng slightly furrowed his brows.
"Hanxiang Liquor?"
Xiao Zhufeng shrugged, "Borrowed from our master."
The two of them had once worked under Yan Xu; Xiao Zhufeng joined first, followed by Pei Yunng. After all this ti, they shared a bond akin to fraternity.
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