Jiu Yue vaguely understood Sima Qing's implication.
It roughly meant... Prince Ping was finally about to make his move.
Her fingertips trembled unconsciously as she took a deep breath, feeling the long-dormant restlessness in her body awaken.
Sima Qing picked up his chopsticks again, but just as Jiu Yue was about to step out the door, he added belatedly, "Wuyou and the dog miss you."
Jiu Yue paused mid-step and turned to look at him.
Sima Qing also raised his gaze to meet hers.
"After everything is over, come back to see them?" he asked, as if it were just a casual remark.
Jiu Yue averted her eyes and waved dismissively. "We'll see... Oh, and don’t forget to take your medicine."
She hadn’t forgotten Fu Yu’s request.
Sima Qing’s movements stilled briefly. His eyes flickered to the medicine bowl beside him—still warm. When he looked up again, she was already gone.
...
Jiu Yue headed straight back to Prince Ping’s residence. On the way, she passed Nan Xun’s courtyard. Finding him absent, she left a note, wrapped it around a small stone, and tossed it into the yard.
Back at the prince’s estate, while Mei Wuchang was away, Jiu Yue slipped into the Mute Girl’s dilapidated courtyard. When she emerged, she was holding a dagger.
She looked up at the sky, her mind eerily calm.
Now, all she had to do was wait.
Wait for him to walk into his own doom.
By July, the people were enduring the peak of summer’s heat.
The northern regions suffered a severe drought, leaving countless refugees, while the south was battered by relentless storms, wiping out entire harvests and plunging the land into famine.
Before his death, the regent had insisted on a lavish tomb, draining resources and conscripting laborers from across the capital.
Meanwhile, General Xiao from the northwestern border was returning to the capital with his personal troops. But no sooner had he left than rumors spread of the Great Yan Dynasty stirring, poised to tear through their fragile peace.
In just a month, the lives of Tianqi’s people had grown unbearable—even in the imperial capital, suffering was rampant.
Resentment simmered among the masses.
Occasionally, Jiu Yue would take Mei Wuchang to a tavern for a meal. Leaning against the window with a teacup in hand, she listened to the people’s grievances—their faces etched with despair as they cursed the corrupt regent.
"That regent is about to die—why can’t he just leave us in peace?"
"Exactly! I heard he embezzled relief funds for both the north and south. There’s already a labor shortage, yet he’s forcing people to build his tomb! I hope he drops dead tonight—never seeing another sunrise!"
"This isn’t the first time he’s stolen disaster relief money..."
"Thankfully, last time during the Qingnan floods, His Majesty sent Prince Ping. If the regent had taken charge, who knows how much worse it would’ve been!"
"True... Even that brothel, the Misty Rain Pavilion—though it was just a pleasure house, Ma Dachun was one of the few decent souls around, taking in girls with nowhere else to go. And then the regent burned it all down."
"Since when has the regent ever cared? Remember that fair gambling den years ago? He smashed that too. Well, karma’s finally caught up—look at him now, half-dead. Serves him right."
"He’s always been at odds with Prince Ping. Serves him right, getting divine retribution. Wonder which kind assassin did us all such a favor?"
"The heavens have eyes... Prince Ping will surely replace the regent and become His Majesty’s right hand!"
"Absolutely..."
"..."
The corrupt regent had become the scapegoat for the people’s fury.
Meanwhile, the benevolent Prince Ping was steadily winning their hearts.
Jiu Yue couldn’t help but think—if Sima Qing really were a villain, he’d have to be quite the mastermind to play the role this pitifully.
She shook her head faintly, then glanced at Mei Wuchang, whose stomach was visibly distended from overeating.
Her lips twitched as she poured him more tea to help digestion. "Was it really that good?"
Mei Wuchang grinned carelessly. "Well, you’re paying. Might as well eat my fill."
Jiu Yue: "…If you’re so good with numbers, why be an assassin? This tavern’s hiring accountants, you know."
Mei Wuchang: "..."
"I may be young," he muttered, "but I’m not stupid."
He could tell she was mocking him!
"Sure, sure. I’m the idiot, happy?" Jiu Yue sighed.
Mei Wuchang: "..."
Somehow, that stung worse than outright insults.
"Alright, time to go." Jiu Yue stepped out of the tavern, her gaze sweeping over the crowded streets. A strange feeling settled in her chest.
She turned to Mei Wuchang. "Will the prince return tonight?"
Mei Wuchang sobered up. "Unclear, but he’ll be back in the capital within two days."
"That’s quick." She glanced at the sky.
Xiao Chi and his troops would also arrive in the capital around the same time.
Officially, Prince Ping had gone south to oversee disaster relief. But Jiu Yue and Mei Wuchang knew the truth—he had secretly returned to his fiefdom, where his forces stood ready.
Jiu Yue exhaled deeply, then abruptly turned to Mei Wuchang. "For the next while, find an excuse to leave the capital."
Mei Wuchang, who had been licking his lips, slowed his steps.
She handed him a hefty pouch of coins, smiling. "The prince’s plans are too big. You’re still young—no need to wade into this mess. Take this and go enjoy yourself."
Mei Wuchang looked down at the bulging pouch, grinning.
"Since when were you so generous?" He accepted it, eyeing her with amused surprise.
"What about you?" he couldn’t help asking. "You should stay out of it too..."
"Like I said—grown-up business. Kids shouldn’t worry." She patted his head.
Mei Wuchang: "..."
Rubbing the back of his head, he glared at her retreating figure but eventually jogged to catch up.
"You’re not broke now, are you? You still owe me a meal at Ruyi House! Since the prince isn’t back yet, treat me tomorrow!"
Jiu Yue’s eye twitched as she clutched her thinning purse. "Bold of you to demand luxury! Hey—where are you running off to? Stop!"
