Night fell over Yongan Ward in the eastern part of the capital.
A three-courtyard residence was hidden deep within an alley. There was no plaque above the door, only two white gauze lanterns hanging under the eaves, casting a dim light that barely reached three steps away.
Two candles were lit in the study. The windows were sealed tightly, the cracks stuffed with black cloth strips so that not a single sliver of light could escape.
A six-panel ebony folding screen divided the study into a front and back half.
In front of the screen, a man in gray short clothes knelt on the green brick floor.
"The Third Prince's exact words were... 'If Commandery Princess Xu were to also place a piece on the chessboard for the position of the Eastern Palace, what would become of this world?'"
Behind the screen, there was no movement.
The gray-clad man continued, "When he said this, Pei Ji, the Shaoqing of the Dali Temple, and Young Master Song of the Ministry of Revenue were both present. Upon hearing this, their expressions changed drastically, and they hastily took their leave."
Silence.
The only sound left in the study was the occasional crackle of the burning candle wicks.
The gray-clad man rubbed his thumbs together faster.
"There is one more thing. When your subordinate retreated, I disturbed the surface of the lake outside the pavilion. The Third Prince's hidden guards noticed it. I climbed the wall and took the waterway, so I shouldn't have been followed."
There was finally some movement behind the screen.
A hand reached out from the side of the screen. The fingers were long and fair, the nails neatly trimmed, and a white jade thumb ring carved with a "crane" pattern was worn on the middle finger.
"Describe the expressions of Pei Ji and Song Yubai in more detail."
The voice was not loud, carrying a scholarly tone, sounding like a man around thirty years old.
The gray-clad man replied, "Pei Ji first asked, 'Are these words too heavy?' His face was tense, as if weighing the gravity of the situation. Song Yubai was even more panicked than him; his hands were shaking, and he even spilled his tea."
"And then?"
"Then the Third Prince did not pursue the topic. Song Yubai changed the subject using the Ministry of Revenue's affairs, and Pei Ji chimed in. The two left one after another, walking very hurriedly."
There was a period of silence behind the screen.
A teacup was placed on the table, making a soft clink.
"Do you think the Third Prince's words were on a whim, or premeditated?"
The gray-clad man hesitated for a moment. "Your subordinate only listens and dares not make reckless judgments."
"If I tell you to speak, then speak."
"Your subordinate believes... The Third Prince spoke of Xu Qinghuan, but Pei Ji and Song Yubai's reactions were so stiff. It didn't look like they had coordinated their stories beforehand; rather, it seemed like it was their first time hearing it." The gray-clad man swallowed. "If the Third Prince and the Xu family truly had a secret plot, he absolutely would not speak so bluntly in front of outsiders."
The person behind the screen did not speak.
After a long while, the hand wearing the white jade thumb ring reached out again, this time holding a vermilion brush.
The vermilion brush wrote a few lines on a piece of letter paper, folded it, and handed it out from the side of the screen.
"Deliver this to the Eldest Prince's mansion. Just say... The Third Prince and the Xu family are still testing the waters and there is no solid evidence of an alliance. There is no need to rush into action right now, lest we alert the snake in the grass."
The gray-clad man took the letter paper with both hands, tucked it close to his body, and rose to leave the study, his footsteps so light they made no sound.
...
The capital, southern city, Chongwen Ward.
The Gu Residence.
The end of May was approaching. The locust flowers had finished blooming, and the locust leaves filling the courtyard were a glossy green. The sun shone brightly upon them, dazzling the eyes.
In the east wing of the backyard, there was a quiet room with its own separate courtyard. The courtyard walls were half a head taller than elsewhere, and broken porcelain pieces were embedded in the top of the walls—not to prevent thieves, but to prevent disturbances.
The great scholar Gu Zongming was in seclusion to study. For the past month, everyone in the entire household did not even dare to make a sound when walking.
Under the eaves outside the quiet room, a fifteen or sixteen-year-old servant boy squatted at the base of a pillar. Clenching a washed-out rag in his hand, he absentmindedly rubbed it against the pillar, humming and singing a newly composed little tune from the streets of the capital's South Market.
"...The Xu family girl left the capital, the Emperor's sword travels north, scaring corrupt officials into peeing their pants, a single lamp wick illuminates peace..."
When he sang the words "peeing their pants," the servant boy amused himself first, grinning and chuckling.
Just as he was laughing, a muffled wooden sound came from behind him.
The door to the quiet room was pushed open from the inside.
The servant boy sprang up, his rag dropping to the ground with a smack. He whipped his head around and saw a tall, thin elderly man walk out of the doorframe.
Gu Zongming wore a half-old blue-gray Taoist robe with a few ink stains on the lapel. His graying hair was casually held back with a wooden hairpin, a few strands escaping to rest on his shoulders. His face was full of fatigue, but his eyes were remarkably bright, exuding an unusual vigor.
The servant boy plopped down on his knees on the green brick floor.
"Congratulations on coming out of seclusion, Old Sir! You must have made great gains in your studies!"
Gu Zongming raised his right hand and waved it twice, not even knitting his brows. He stepped straight over the threshold and strode toward the front hall.
...
The front hall.
The head steward, Zhou Fu, was already waiting at the door, bowing at just the right angle.
"Old Sir, the hot water is ready, and the kitchen is keeping some millet porridge and two small dishes warm. Will you wash up first, or eat first?"
"Neither is urgent."
Gu Zongming sat in the main seat, picked up a teacup, and gulped down a large mouthful of cold tea, not minding the overnight taste.
"What has happened in the capital this past month?"
Zhou Fu was well prepared and methodically reported the major court events and street rumors of the past month one by one.
Such as the Grand Secretary of the Cabinet taking charge of the northern border's rations, the Eldest Prince frequently visiting the Ministry of War, the Third Prince hosting several tea gatherings at his mansion, a newly opened glass shop in the south of the city doing excellent business, and a new poem from the Xie family's literary gathering being copied throughout half the capital...
Gu Zongming listened, tapping his fingers on the rim of the teacup, occasionally nodding without saying a word.
Towards the end of his report, Zhou Fu suddenly remembered something.
"Oh, right, Old Sir. Before Magistrate Xu left the capital, he sent someone to deliver a letter. It was tucked inside the scroll of books that was sent over. I placed it on the desk in the study."
Gu Zongming's fingers stopped tapping the teacup.
"When did this happen?"
"It was roughly a few days after you went into seclusion. At that time, you were rushing to organize the annotations for that batch of rare ancient texts. I reported it to you, and you just said 'hmm' and told me you would look at it later..."
Before Zhou Fu could finish speaking, Gu Zongming had already stood up. He slammed the teacup on the table, splashing tea halfway up his sleeve, but completely ignoring it, he lifted the hem of his robe and headed for the study.
Zhou Fu froze for a moment. Having followed the Old Sir for thirty years, it was his first time seeing him walk so hurriedly.
...
Inside the study, ancient texts and manuscripts were piled half a person high on the desk.
Gu Zongming pushed aside the top stack of thread-bound books, rummaged underneath, and finally pulled out a crumpled letter from the pages of an annotated copy of the Analects.
There was no signature on the envelope, only a tiny private seal stamped at the flap, with a seal script character as fine as a mosquito's leg: Huan.
Gu Zongming tore open the envelope, pulled out the letter, and unfolded it.
The letter was not long; it contained only three lines of text in total.
The handwriting was neat and elegant, written in the standard Guange style. Every stroke was proper and well-behaved, without the slightest bit of flashiness.
The first line: For Mr. Gu to open personally. Qinghuan is about to travel far, and I fear the date of my return is uncertain.
The second line: If you and Mr. Kong have any doubts regarding the new laws and the principles of investigating things, there is no one in the residence who can answer.
The third line: You may send someone to the Xu residence to find a person named Xu Zijin. This person has received all of Qinghuan's teachings and can clear up your confusions on my behalf. I earnestly hope you will not doubt this.
Gu Zongming's hand holding the letter paper began to tremble.
It was not from anger, but from anxiety.
A month! A whole month!
And the key to unraveling it all lay right here, in this very letter that had been buried beneath his stack of books for an entire month.
Gripping the paper tightly, Gu Zongming looked up and took a deep, steadying breath.
"Something of this magnitude!"
"And I had absolutely no idea!"
