Just as dawn broke the next morning, Chai Yingluo rose, changed into plain clothes, and took her younger brother Chai Zhewei into the palace to report the death to the Emperor, the Empress, and the relevant ministries.
Wei Shubin followed her through all this tense activity, but inwardly she was flustered, unsure what she ought to do. Noticing her panic, Chai Yingluo smiled gently and instructed, “Have some breakfast first, then go check on the First Lady’s chamber.”
After the two women left the guest quarters where they had stayed overnight, they parted ways. Wei Shubin walked toward the First Lady’s chamber—only to find both door panels locked with a bronze clasp and the windows firmly shuttered. She stood there, uncertain, when footsteps sounded behind her. Li Yuanxu and Yang Xinzhi had arrived together.
Meeting face-to-face, all three felt a flicker of awkwardness.
After a night’s rest, Wei Shubin’s emotions had settled. Her mind was clearer now, enough for her to realize that the two young men had actually tried to help her. Especially Prince Li Yuanxu of Wu—though his words last night had been harsh, inappropriate, even goading her into admitting she was the murderer, without them Wei Zheng might not have stormed out in anger. And if he hadn’t stormed out… she might not be standing here alive.
So she gathered herself to curtsy and thank them properly, trying her best to behave like a dignified minister’s daughter. She had barely begun:
“This Wei thanks Your Highness Prince of Wu for—”
Before she finished, she saw the swish of a purple robe hem and black leather boots—Li Yuanxu had already turned away, completely ignoring her, striding up the steps toward the east wing.
Wei Shubin remained half-crouched, frozen and humiliated. Once again, it was the tall, good-natured Yang Xinzhi who stepped forward to smooth things over. With a warm smile on his round, moon-bright face, he greeted her as “Lady Wei.” They exchanged courtesies and explained why they were there. They, too, had come to reinspect the crime scene in daylight.
Since Yang Xinzhi had spent much effort persuading Wei Zheng and his wife the previous night, Wei Shubin thanked him sincerely. He responded with a proper, respectful bow. When he bent down, his tall, fair figure momentarily blocked out the sky, giving Wei Shubin a vivid impression of what the phrase “jade mountain about to topple” must look like.
“Young lady need not be so formal. Last night with your father… ah, best not speak of it. Most parents are the same. Young ladies should try to look past it,” Yang Xinzhi said gently.
A jingling sound came from the steps. Both turned. Li Yuanxu had drawn a key from his belt chain, unlocked the door, and stepped in. He remained utterly indifferent to Wei Shubin’s presence.
“…Fourteenth Brother sympathizes with you as well. He’s just naturally reserved, and being young, doesn’t know how to converse with noble young ladies. Please don’t take offense,” Yang Xinzhi added—though his explanation only made Wei Shubin feel even more embarrassed. She wanted to retreat, but Chai Yingluo had entrusted her to investigate, and the case implicated her too deeply. She couldn’t walk away.
Yang Xinzhi excused himself and followed Li Yuanxu inside. Wei Shubin bit her lip and lifted her skirt to step in after them. If necessary, she could simply pretend the arrogant, hateful Prince of Wu did not exist. She was the daughter of Wei Zheng, the empire’s foremost remonstrating minister—if it came to exchanging disdainful looks, who was she afraid of?
The body of County Lady Li Wanxi still lay on the bed. Wei Shubin did not dare lift the covers again to see the horrifying expression of the deceased. Instead, she used the bright daylight to re-examine the bridal chamber.
Though lamps had been lit the previous night, the room had been dim. Now sunlight filtered through the paper windows, revealing the full layout. The bed stood against the south wall. Under the west window were a desk and dressing table. Along the east wall sat cabinets, clothing racks, tall tables, and braziers. Everything was still stacked with the belongings from the new bride’s wedding night.
The suicide note placed beneath the pillow and the intricate hanging apparatus used to strangle her had already been taken to the palace by Chai Yingluo and her brother. The remaining items included clothes, shoes, incense burners, writing tools on the desk, and a mirror and cosmetics box on the dressing table. The mirror cloth had been drawn back, its bronze surface reflecting bright figures. Last night, Li Yuanxu had said the First Lady was “strangled from behind while doing her makeup.” Under the daylight, that theory seemed even more plausible.
Li Yuanxu’s tall, lean figure moved toward the dressing table. After a brief glance, he gave a quiet exclamation and reached into the cosmetics box to lift something out.
Wei Shubin and Yang Xinzhi approached. The cosmetics box was plain boxwood, unvarnished, divided into small compartments. The contents—cosmetics and scattered jewelry—were modest and unremarkable.
Except for what Li Yuanxu now held.
It was a pale green jade ring—thick, heavy, its jade rich and luminous, evenly colored. A faint trail of blood-red streaks wound around its outer wall, carved into an ancient taotie beast motif. Li Yuanxu turned it in his fingers several times, then frowned and handed it to Yang Xinzhi.
“You have many sisters. Have you ever seen this type of ornament before?”
Yang Xinzhi examined it and shook his head. “Never. And I don’t pay much attention to such things. Fourteenth Brother knows I rarely enter the inner residence… Lady Wei, perhaps you might know—do young ladies wear ornaments like this nowadays?”
Wei Shubin accepted the jade ring. The jade felt warm in her hand. She attempted to slip it onto her finger, but it was far too large—even loose on her thumb.
She also noticed the ring’s unusual structure. It wasn’t a thin circular band. Its walls were thick and high, with a sloped ridge on one side and carved notches beneath it. Two small holes on the opposite side allowed silk cords to be threaded through and hung from a belt. It resembled a belt pendant more than a ring.
“I have never seen young ladies wear anything like this. Their hands would never fit. The First Lady was even more slender than I. And if it were worn on a belt… there’s no cord attached.”
She tried positioning it in several ways before handing it back. Looking at Yang Xinzhi’s broad hands and thick fingers, an idea struck her.
“Master Yang, this seems too large for a woman. Could you try it?”
Yang Xinzhi blinked, startled, and hesitated. Li Yuanxu said impatiently, “Try it. Plenty of men wear rings. What are you frightened of?”
With a grimace, Yang Xinzhi obliged. On his fingers, the ring fit well on the index, middle, and ring fingers, though the tall walls prevented him from bending his joints.
“This isn’t meant for daily wear,” he said. “It’s too cumbersome—your whole hand becomes useless.”
But by size alone, it seemed more like a man’s ring.
Li Yuanxu took it back and tried it on his left hand. His fingers were long and slender—too slender. It was loose on all except his thumb, where it fit perfectly.
“Wishing to show her delicate hands, she asks her love for a ring…”
“How to show tenderness? A pair of silver rings to bind…”
Li Yuanxu and Wei Shubin spoke at the same time—two different poems describing the same custom of lovers exchanging rings.
Their eyes met; both abruptly fell silent. Wei Shubin flushed bright red. For a noble young lady to recite romantic poetry aloud… it bordered on impropriety.
Yang Xinzhi’s stifled laughter burst out as a strange choking cough behind his mustache. Li Yuanxu shot him a murderous glare. “What are you laughing at!”
“Nothing… only that Fourteenth Brother seems quite familiar with ‘Ding Niang’s Ten Requests.’ I hadn’t realized he was such a seasoned romantic. Truly, one cannot judge by appearances.”
Wei Shubin’s line came from a poem in New Songs from the Jade Terrace—romantic but respectable. But Li Yuanxu’s? She had never heard it. When Yang Xinzhi called him a “playboy,” she wondered: was Li Yuanxu quoting something sung in pleasure quarters?
Seeing Li Yuanxu’s face redden as he barked, “Nonsense!”—a protest a little too forceful—Wei Shubin felt irritated and changed the subject.
“This ornament is indeed strange. Everything else in the box together isn’t worth half of this ring.”
Her gaze swept the cosmetic items—silver and copper hairpins inlaid with small beads and jade, lacquered hairpins, silk ribbons, simple gilt combs, worn powder boxes. All modest to the point of shabbiness. Chai Yingluo must have sent valuable jewelry with the dowry, but none of it was here.
Li Yuanxu studied the ring thoughtfully.
“Such jade is rarely seen now. Even in the Great Peace Palace, I’ve seen few pieces this pure. And with such an ancient carving style…”
Where had the First Lady obtained it?
Wei Shubin sensed this was precisely what Li Yuanxu wished to ask. She wondered the same. The ring felt unmistakably like a man’s possession—and no woman in the palace would exchange such an object lightly. Not without inviting suspicion.
If Li Wanxi had truly once received a token from a man… Wei Shubin recalled the eighteen-year-old bride’s pallid face, her quiet, dazed manner, the way her fingers had twisted nervously in her lap. A sudden warmth rose in Wei Shubin’s chest, and for a fleeting moment she hoped this speculation might be true.
If Li Wanxi had ever been cherished—if she had once held someone’s affection close to her heart—then her brief, fragile life would not have been lived in vain. If she had nurtured an image of someone in the depths of her heart, had known the flutter of joy and the ache of sorrow, had shed tears for him, felt her heart move or break because of him—then she had at least found the place where her heart truly rested. She would not have been just a pale wisp drifting through the world, nor merely a symbol of her tragic father’s bloodline. Even with her mysterious death, she might have been far luckier than most women who lived on in confusion—marrying, bearing children, keeping households without ever knowing such tenderness.
But Yang Xinzhi’s voice abruptly shattered Wei Shubin’s quiet, romantic musing:
“Perhaps it was left to the First Lady by her late father.”
“Ah…” Wei Shubin found her thoughts collapsing at once. Li Yuanxu nodded faintly. “That does make sense.”
After all, the First Lady had been the former Crown Prince’s eldest daughter, raised for eight or nine years in the Eastern Palace, surrounded by servants and adored by her parents. Even after being moved here, it would not be strange for her to possess one or two precious royal items.
As the three of them continued to debate, footsteps sounded outside, and several maidservants entered.
Nun Jingxuan led them, each holding tools and linens—they clearly meant to tidy the room. Seeing Li Yuanxu and the others, the group bowed and began backing out, but Li Yuanxu stopped Jingxuan.
“Sister Jing, you’ve served Young Lady Ying here at the temple for some time. Have you ever seen the First Lady wear this ornament?”
He handed her the jade ring. Jingxuan examined it, shook her head, and passed it on. “I have not seen it. Heba—have you?”
The middle-aged maid she addressed stepped forward. Her swollen eyelids and blotchy face told their own story—she must have cried all night. Even before Jingxuan introduced her, the grief carved into her expression suggested she was the nurse who had been wailing outside when the First Lady’s body was discovered.
“This is not Young Lady—County Lady Linfen’s ornament,” she said hoarsely.
“It’s not?” All three—Wei Shubin, Li Yuanxu, Yang Xinzhi—leaned forward instinctively.
“No.” Though exhausted and miserable, the nurse’s voice held unmistakable certainty. “I know every ornament the Young Lady owned. I went through every dowry item that the Supreme Master delivered. This was not among them.”
“You’re certain?” Li Yuanxu asked. “It was inside her cosmetics box just now, mixed with her belongings. If it wasn’t hers, then where did it come from?”
Heba frowned, lowering her gaze to the large jade ring in her hand, obvious distaste flickering across her face.
“Ever since moving to Ganye Temple, County Lady Linfen has not stepped outside the gates once in nine years, nor seen any outsider. How could she have something like this? When the two young ladies from the east courtyard—born to the Yang concubines—were ill and sent to Purple Void Temple for treatment, the Young Lady would not even leave for that. She lived with such strict propriety. Anything like rings or silk keepsakes… absolutely nothing to do with her.”
She had clearly concluded it was a man’s ring—and by denying it belonged to the First Lady, she was refusing any stain of secret romance upon her mistress’s name. Her voice grew stronger, firmer:
“The First Lady never had this while alive. Yesterday afternoon, before the Empress arrived, Supreme Master ordered us to burn incense here. I searched the cosmetics box thoroughly for old incense balls and stray grains. This was not inside. Supreme Master can testify.”
Her certainty left the room heavy with silence.
But… perhaps the First Lady had not kept the ring in her cosmetics box then. If it had been a token from a man, she would have hidden it carefully, away from prying eyes.
“It wasn’t there in the afternoon,” Li Yuanxu said slowly, “but after all the chaos last night—after her death—it appeared in her cosmetics box.” He studied the jade ring again. “Are you suggesting someone took advantage of the commotion to plant this, to frame her?”
Heba’s lips trembled—she had words she dared not speak. Wei Shubin silently listed those who had been present last night: the Chai siblings, Li Yuanxu, Yang Xinzhi, the First Lady’s parents, herself… all high-born. Heba, as a mere servant, could not accuse any of them.
“Perhaps,” the nurse said, voice low and strained, “after the young lords left, someone slipped inside and placed it there.”
That was possible. Li Yuanxu frowned. “When we left last night, I locked the room. The key has been with me the whole time. This morning, when we opened it, the doors and windows were intact. But…”
He glanced upward at the high beams and motioned Yang Xinzhi over. They dragged a tall table across the floor; Li Yuanxu stepped onto it, then onto Yang Xinzhi’s shoulders, grabbed the beam, and swung up with surprising nimbleness.
Being lean certainly had its advantages. Wei Shubin couldn’t help thinking he moved exactly like a thief slipping across rooftops.
“Give me a lamp,” he called down.
Wei Shubin looked around—the others had their hands full—so she quickly fetched the short bronze lamp from the First Lady’s desk. She handed it to Yang Xinzhi, who raised it upward.
But Li Yuanxu didn’t reach for it. Instead he lowered his hand, then glared down at her.
“Light it first.”
The word “stupid” hovered unsaid on his lips.
Only then did Wei Shubin realize he wanted it for illumination. Mortified, she hurried to find a flint, lit the lamp, and passed it up—while privately cursing his endless arrogance.
The small flame cast a wavering glow across the dusty beams. Li Yuanxu turned carefully, inspecting every corner. Finally he shook his head and leapt down cleanly.
“The dust is thick. Aside from the marks from throwing the noose last night, no one has come in from the roof.”
So the blood-streaked jade ring had not been placed during the night. It had already been in the cosmetics box when the scene was sealed.
Wei Shubin remembered her single encounter with Li Wanxi—the timid, naive young bride, her frightened eyes, her almost childish simplicity. Trapped here for nine years… how could she have fallen in love with any man? Did she possess the courage? The boldness?
Or… as the former Crown Prince’s daughter, had she inherited the hidden strength of the Longxi Li clan, disguising her true nature beneath a veil of foolishness?
Everyone in the room turned toward Nurse Heba. Her haggard features seemed to drain of blood, then flush hotly. Her eyes reddened. Suddenly she let out a strangled cry, stumbled forward, fell to her knees beside the bed, and threw her arms around the First Lady’s lifeless body—sobbing as if her soul were breaking apart.
“Oh… my poor young lady… what sin did you commit… even in death they smear your name… first your parents were killed, and now they want to destroy your reputation… Heaven knows who is framing you…”
Wei Shubin, Li Yuanxu, and Yang Xinzhi exchanged heavy, troubled looks. If the nurse insisted on a framing, it would only stir sympathy. And her wailing about “killing your parents”—that all but pointed blame toward the Emperor or Empress Zhangsun…
Wei Shubin’s heart clenched. If this jade ring had been given by the Empress—or placed secretly in the box by her—what a terrifying thought.
Li Yuanxu seemed to think the same. He did not pursue the matter further. His voice was steady as he extended his hand:
“Give me the item.”
During his climbing earlier, the ring had stayed with the nurse. Now it needed to be secured as evidence for imperial investigation.
Still weeping, Heba raised her head. Her tear-soaked face twisted with desperation. Suddenly, in one wild motion, she shoved the jade ring into her mouth.
Li Yuanxu and Yang Xinzhi both shouted and lunged forward. The maidservants shrieked as they rushed closer. Wei Shubin felt her heart stop entirely.
Even pinned under the two men—her shoulders crushed down, jaw forced open, hands dragged apart—the nurse refused to yield. With a convulsive swallow, she forced down the large jade ring.
“Damn you! Treasonous woman!”
Li Yuanxu’s face contorted with fury. He tore himself free, drew his sword in one fluid motion, its cold edge gleaming.
“Shall I cut you open? That evidence matters more than your worthless life!”
Pinned to the floor by Yang Xinzhi, Heba simply closed her eyes, waiting calmly for death. Wei Shubin’s blood ran cold. She cried out, voice trembling: “Fourteenth Brother, don’t—!”
Before anyone could move, a voice called sharply from outside the window:
“Reporting to His Highness the Prince of Wu—His Majesty summons the Prince and Yang Kuzhen to the palace. The Empress summons Young Lady Wei.”
Notes
-
About the jade ring:
The jade ring discovered in Li Wanxi’s cosmetics box is modeled after a “Yu She”—a jade archer’s thumb ring (pronounced she) unearthed from Fu Hao’s tomb at the Yin Ruins in Anyang, Henan Province. It is the same piece featured on this book’s cover. Detailed information is widely available online for readers who wish to explore further. High-resolution photographs are also posted on the author’s Weibo.
-
About the bronze mirror:
The line, “the dressing table had a mirror stand and cosmetics box, with the mirror cloth pulled back, reflecting bright figures in the bronze mirror,” is based on historical accuracy. Contrary to what many modern historical dramas depict—bronze mirrors with dull, yellowish, pitted surfaces that can barely reflect an image—authentic ancient bronze mirrors were polished with tin alloy and were bright, clear, and highly reflective, not far from the effect of modern mercury mirrors.
However, because they lacked the protective glass layer used in contemporary mirrors, their surfaces were prone to oxidation and darkening. Regular polishing was necessary, which is why “mirror polishing” existed as a common trade in ancient cities. Professor Yu Genzhe once shared a photograph on Weibo of a modern replica of a Han Dynasty bronze mirror crafted using Han Dynasty techniques. High-resolution images are available on the author’s Weibo.
-
About “Kuzhen”:
The term appears when servants address Yang Xinzhi as “Yang Kuzhen.” The origin of this title will be explained later in the narrative. Kuzhen (also written Kuzhi) is believed to derive from the Xianbei language. It was a typical official role found within princely households during the Sui Dynasty and early Tang Dynasty—roughly equivalent to a combination of personal guard, close attendant, advisor, and trusted confidant.
Although the position had no fixed number of posts and was not part of the formal bureaucratic ranks, it was nevertheless considered prestigious and often mentioned in epitaphs. This title, primarily held by sons of noble families, was abolished after the mid-Zhenguan period.
Next
.jpeg)
Comments
Post a Comment