Xie Zhaolin followed Zhao Huan upstairs without saying a word. He stood at the other end of the corridor, his gaze fixed on the white bandage around Shi Huai’s wrist.
His lips were pressed into a thin line.
Shen Jinghong felt a pang at the sight of Zhao Huan’s dazed expression.
“Zhao Huan, you rode all night from the capital just to come up here and say a few words?”
Zhao Huan turned and glared at him. The blood vessels in his eyes were even redder than Shen Jinghong’s.
“Why do you care how many words I say? I wanted to. I was willing to ride all night. What’s it to you?”
The Third Prince stood to one side, watching these young noblemen from the capital bicker back and forth. His expression was exceedingly complicated.
Shi Huai looked at the group crowding the corridor, blocking the already narrow passage so completely that not even a drop of water could pass through, and sighed.
“Have any of you eaten breakfast?”
Everyone shook their heads at the same time.
Shi Huai turned and went back into the room. He picked up the half-finished bowl of congee from the table, then set it back down.
“There’s a congee stall downstairs. Go buy some yourselves. Stop loitering here. You’ve blocked the entire corridor.”
Zhao Huan was the first to turn and head downstairs, running faster than a rabbit. After taking a few steps, he stopped and looked back at Shi Huai.
“Do you want anything? I’ll bring it back for you.”
“No need. I’ve already eaten.”
Zhao Huan gave a disappointed “oh,” then turned and ran down the stairs.
Xie Zhaolin followed behind him. When he reached the top of the staircase, he paused.
“I’ll have people investigate the kidnappers. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”
With that, he went downstairs without looking back. The sound of his footsteps gradually faded along the stairs.
Shen Jinghong did not move.
Neither did the Third Prince.
Holding the bowl of congee, now completely cold, Shi Huai looked at the two of them. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly.
“Aren’t you going? Or have you already eaten?”
Shen Jinghong straightened from where he had been leaning against a pillar and walked over to Shi Huai. He lowered his head to look at the white bandage around Shi Huai’s wrist.
“Shi Huai, have you ever considered that this might have something to do with your second uncle?”
Shi Huai’s fingers paused. He lifted his eyes to Shen Jinghong’s serious face.
“Brother Shen, do you know what you’re saying?”
Shen Jinghong took half a step forward, narrowing the distance between them. His voice dropped so low that only the two of them could hear.
“I’ve looked into your second uncle. What he’s done all these years isn’t as simple as it appears on the surface. He’s laid countless schemes throughout the court, and every move has been calculated with frightening precision.”
Shi Huai leaned back against the chair, quietly studying Shen Jinghong’s face.
“So Brother Shen believes he arranged this? That he ordered people to kidnap his own nephew? What would he gain from that?”
“I don’t know what he wants, but I do know that there’s nothing he wouldn’t do.”
Shen Jinghong paused, watching Shi Huai’s expression. He found no change in it whatsoever.
“Shi Huai, I know you respect him, but there are some things you have no choice but to consider from another angle.”
Shi Huai placed the bowl on the small table, then rose and walked to the window. He pushed it open, letting the outside air blow into the room.
The wind carried the chill peculiar to early morning. It stirred the loose strands of hair at his temples.
“Brother Shen, I’ve thought about everything you mentioned. I’ve thought about it more deeply than you have. But there’s one thing you got wrong. My second uncle isn’t infallible. He miscalculated once.”
Shen Jinghong walked over to him and turned his head to study his profile.
“What did he miscalculate?”
“He miscalculated me.”
Shen Jinghong stared at Shi Huai for a long time.
“He miscalculated you?”
He rolled those four words over his tongue, his brow drawing even tighter.
“What does that mean?”
Shi Huai did not answer. He turned and leaned against the window frame.
Sunlight streamed in from behind him, gilding his silhouette with a layer of pale gold.
His gaze fell on the narrow street outside.
The early-morning vendors had already begun setting up their stalls.
An old man selling wontons was dropping them into a pot, clouds of steam billowing upward.
“Brother Shen, you looked into my second uncle. Do you know why he’s never married all these years?”
Shen Jinghong was silent for a moment.
“The result of my investigation was that he has someone in his heart.”
Shi Huai nodded.
He walked to the table, poured himself a cup of water, and held it in his hand without drinking.
He lowered his head to watch the water ripple inside the cup, his voice barely above a whisper.
“That person is my mother.”
Shen Jinghong’s hand clenched abruptly. A faint crack sounded from his knuckles.
He stared at Shi Huai’s calm profile, feeling as though something had exploded inside his mind.
The fragments flew in every direction, each one driving into his heart.
“Your mother?”
Shi Huai set the cup down and turned to face Shen Jinghong.
“Yes.”
A rush of hurried footsteps sounded in the corridor.
Before either of them could react, the newcomer went straight to the Third Prince, whispered something to him, and handed him a piece of paper.
The Third Prince’s face instantly darkened like the sky before a storm.
“We found the intermediary.”
Shi Huai and Shen Jinghong looked at him at the same time.
“He was caught in a town in Linshui County. He had five hundred taels of silver on him as a deposit, along with a note.”
The Third Prince held out the piece of paper.
“The note gave an address: a place in Huaibei called Liu Family Settlement.”
Shen Jinghong took the note, glanced over it, and handed it to Shi Huai.
“Liu Family Settlement? I’ve heard of that place. It’s a lawless no-man’s-land, crawling with bandits, fugitives, and desperadoes.”
Shi Huai accepted the note. It contained only a single line, written in crooked, awkward characters.
The handwriting had clearly been deliberately disguised.
He raised his head and looked at the Third Prince.
“Did the intermediary say who the employer was?”
The Third Prince shook his head.
“He said he’d never seen the employer’s face. They communicated through letters every time, and the handwriting in those letters had also been deliberately altered.”
Shen Jinghong sat down in a chair, folding his hands over his knees.
“So the trail ends here?”
“It does.”
The Third Prince sat down opposite him.
“But he did say one thing: the employer knew Shi Huai’s movements like the back of their hand.”
“They knew exactly when he would leave the city, which road he would take, and which inn he would stay at.”
Shi Huai’s fingers paused.
“There aren’t many people who knew my whereabouts.”
He spread the route map across the table, his finger moving slowly along the red line.
“My second uncle, my father, Qinghe, and the few of you.”
Shen Jinghong glanced at the route map, the corners of his lips tightening slightly.
“You suspect your second uncle?”
Shi Huai rolled up the route map and tucked it back into his sleeve. Then he picked up the cup of cold water from the table and took a sip.
“I’m not suspecting him. I’m eliminating him.”
The Third Prince leaned back in his chair. Looking at Shi Huai’s unnaturally calm face, he suddenly spoke.
“Aren’t you afraid? You were nearly kidnapped. You were nearly sent to that godforsaken place in Huaibei where no one would answer your cries for help. Aren’t you afraid?”
Shi Huai set down the cup and lifted his eyes to the Third Prince.
“I am. I’m scared to death. But fear is useless, and crying won’t solve anything. Rather than being afraid, I’d rather think about how to expose the person behind all this.”
Another burst of footsteps sounded in the corridor.
This time, it was Qinghe.
She looked at the three people in the room, hesitating over whether she should come in.
“Sister Qinghe, come in.”
Qinghe managed to force out, “Young Master, someone else has arrived downstairs. He says he’s from the frontier.”
