Shi Huai and Shen Jinghong exchanged a glance, then rose from their chairs at the same time and walked to the doorway.
The Third Prince stood in the corridor, with the grain shopkeeper, Shopkeeper Zhou, in front of him.
Shopkeeper Zhou kept his head lowered, his voice barely above a whisper. The atmosphere in the corridor was heavy, as though it had been filled with lead.
“Your Highness, the kidnappers have confessed. They said a woman contacted them through an intermediary. She never showed her face and only sent word that she would pay them five thousand taels of silver once the job was done.”
The Third Prince’s hand clenched inside his sleeve, his knuckles cracking. His voice came through gritted teeth.
“A woman? What kind of woman? How old was she? Where was her accent from?”
Shopkeeper Zhou shook his head, a fine layer of sweat appearing on his brow.
“The kidnappers said the person who delivered the message was a middle-aged man with a capital accent. He claimed to be the woman’s steward and said that his mistress found it inconvenient to appear in person, so he would handle everything on her behalf.”
As Shi Huai listened to Shopkeeper Zhou’s report, a name surfaced in his mind once more.
Shi Lingyi.
A steward. A middle-aged man. A capital accent.
The Shen residence’s steward was a middle-aged man in his forties who spoke with an unmistakable capital accent.
Shi Huai had seen him once at the birthday banquet held at the Shen residence last year.
He had a round face and a perpetually smiling expression, looking amiable enough.
The Third Prince had clearly thought of the same possibility. He turned and glanced at Shi Huai, his eyes asking a silent question.
Shi Huai shook his head, signaling that they could not be sure yet and should not alert the enemy.
The Third Prince drew a deep breath and forced down his surging anger. He lowered his head to look at Shopkeeper Zhou, who was still kneeling on the floor.
“Continue the interrogation. Ask about the steward’s height, build, appearance, tone of voice—do not miss a single detail.”
Shopkeeper Zhou answered at once. He rose from the floor, backed away several steps, then turned and went downstairs. The sound of his footsteps gradually faded along the staircase.
Silence settled over the corridor, so quiet that they could hear Tangerine snoring in the room next door.
The plump little cat had been out running all night. After returning, he had eaten more than half a fish before curling up on the windowsill and falling asleep. He still had not woken up.
Shen Jinghong leaned against one of the corridor pillars, arms folded across his chest, his gaze fixed on the Third Prince’s stormy face.
“Your Highness, who do you think that woman is?”
The Third Prince did not answer. Instead, he turned to Shi Huai.
“Shi Huai, do you have any idea yourself? Whom have you offended?”
Shi Huai thought for a moment.
“I’ve offended plenty of people. There are the families in the capital who wanted me to marry into them but were rejected, the officials who wanted to win over my second uncle but were blocked by me, and the legal mother in the marquis’s residence who sees me as a thorn in her side and was placed under house arrest by my father. Which one do you think it is, Your Highness?”
The Third Prince was left speechless, his face turning livid. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but seemed unable to decide where to begin.
The corners of Shen Jinghong’s lips lifted slightly before he quickly suppressed the smile.
“Shi Huai, are you taking your frustration out on His Highness? His Highness rushed here from the palace in the middle of the night and hasn’t slept a wink. Is that how you speak to him?”
Shi Huai glanced at Shen Jinghong, a trace of surprise in his eyes.
He had known Shen Jinghong for many years, yet this man had never defended anyone, much less the Third Prince. The sun must have risen in the west today.
“I’m not being difficult. I’m telling the truth. His Highness asked whom I had offended. I’ve offended quite a few people, and listing them one by one would take too long.”
The Third Prince’s expression eased somewhat.
He pulled the map from his sleeve, unfolded it, and spread it across the corridor railing.
“The kidnappers confessed that someone planned to receive you in Linshui County. They intended to cross the Yellow River at the ferry, then head south. Once they crossed the Huai River, no one would be able to control the situation.”
His finger moved across the map, tracing the route from Qingyang Town to Linshui County, from Linshui County to the Yellow River ferry, and then southward across the Huai River into the Huabei region.
“Huabei is a land contested by four powers, with banditry running rampant. The imperial government has no reach there. Once they get you into Huabei, finding you again will be nearly impossible.”
Shi Huai’s gaze fell on the red line stretching from Qingyang Town all the way to the northern bank of the Huai River.
He recalled what Shi Yuanping had told him.
The imperial court could not control Huabei, nor could the local officials. Every bandit gang ruled its own territory, and the entire region was as chaotic as a pot of boiling porridge.
“So their plan was to take me to Huabei, lock me up somewhere, and make everyone believe I was dead.”
The Third Prince rolled up the map and tucked it back into his sleeve, then nodded.
“That’s more or less the idea. Whoever is behind this doesn’t want you dead. They only want you to disappear from the world.”
Shen Jinghong straightened from the pillar and walked over to face Shi Huai.
“Have you ever considered who would benefit the most from your disappearance?”
The corner of Shi Huai’s mouth twitched.
“The Yongning Marquis’s residence has no male heir. Without one, the title cannot be passed down. The imperial court will reclaim the marquisate and confiscate the family’s property, while the members of the Shi family will scatter in all directions.”
Shen Jinghong stared into his eyes, each word coming out slowly and clearly.
“So the person behind this isn’t trying to kill you. They’re trying to destroy your entire family.”
“If you die, the Yongning Marquis’s residence is finished.”
The Third Prince’s expression shifted. He had clearly reached the same conclusion.
Shi Huai shook his head.
“Brother Shen, you’re mistaken. If I die, the person who benefits most won’t be those who wish the Yongning Marquis’s residence ill. It will be…”
He paused, his gaze falling on the window at the end of the corridor.
The sky outside had already brightened. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a brilliant patch of light across the floor.
“Though the Yongning Marquis’s residence has fallen into decline, it still bears the name of a marquis. My father may be a good-for-nothing, but he is still a legitimate marquis.”
“To the two of you, that title may be as useless as a spent candle, but in the eyes of certain people, it is a priceless treasure.”
Shen Jinghong and the Third Prince fell silent at the same time.
A burst of noisy voices rose from downstairs, as though someone was arguing.
Then Qinghe’s voice rang out, flustered and angry. “You can’t go upstairs!”
Shi Huai straightened and walked to the top of the stairs. He glanced down, and the corner of his mouth twitched despite himself.
Zhao Huan stood at the foot of the stairs, wearing a wrinkled pale-blue robe. His hair was a mess, resembling a bird’s nest, and exhaustion filled his face. His eyes were bloodshot.
Beside him stood Xie Zhaolin. His clothes were neat enough, but the dark circles beneath his eyes were even worse than Shen Jinghong’s. He looked as though he had just crawled out of a coffin.
Standing on the stairs, Shi Huai looked down at the two uninvited guests.
Zhao Huan raised his head to look at him. His eyes immediately reddened, and his lips trembled several times before he finally managed to squeeze out a single sentence.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Just some superficial injuries.”
Zhao Huan took the stairs three at a time and stopped in front of Shi Huai. He examined him from head to toe several times. Only after confirming that Shi Huai truly had nothing worse than superficial injuries did he let out a long breath.
“Do you know how frightened I was when I heard the news? I nearly lost my soul. If anything had happened to you, I would never have forgiven myself for the rest of my life.”
