Chapter 31: Smoke and Mirrors

 

A cool breeze swept through the path, lifting the hem of Ji Bozhai's robe with an elegance that seemed at odds with the tension crackling in the air.

After a moment of deliberate silence, he suddenly smiled—a calculated expression that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Though Magnolia Green Fabric is rare, it's hardly a unique treasure in this world. My lord has already investigated the cloth shops, and now you wish to inspect Prince Gong's rewards as well?"

"Forgive my intrusion, Lord Ji," Zhao Si Pan clasped his hands with exaggerated courtesy that bordered on mockery. "Had it not been for a new witness, I would never have troubled you."

"Oh?"

"Zhang Tai, a dancing girl from the Music Bureau, suddenly accused Xu Lan, the bureau's internal affairs steward, of bending the law for personal gain today. She also revealed some other matters." Zhao Si Pan's smirk carried layers of meaning, each more dangerous than the last. "For instance, on the day Prince Ping was murdered, the Ming Guniang by your side did indeed attend the banquet. And that Magnolia Green dress—it was hers."

Ji Bozhai's eyelid twitched—a microexpression of surprise he couldn't quite suppress.

Hadn't Zhang Tai been staying at his residence? He'd specifically instructed Buxiu to keep an eye on her with strict vigilance. How could she have suddenly gone out to accuse Xu Lan? This would bring her no benefit whatsoever—she'd only be punished alongside him, possibly worse.

Bribed? Unlikely. A pregnant woman wouldn't risk her life and her unborn child's future for money alone.

Then why? What could possibly motivate such self-destructive testimony?

His mind raced through possibilities like a chess master calculating moves, but his expression remained perfectly unreadable—years of court politics had trained him well. "I don't understand what you're implying, Adjudicator Zhao. If the case has reached a conclusion, kindly report it to Da Si and summon me officially."

With that, he flicked his sleeve with dismissive finality and strode forward, each step measured and dignified.

Zhao Si Pan called after him, voice sharp with provocation, "Does Lord Ji have a guilty conscience?"

Ridiculous. What did he have to feel guilty about? The investigation hadn't even scratched the surface yet—they still had to connect the Magnolia Green fabric to Prince Ping's death first, establish motive, opportunity, means.

Still... he thought with growing irritation, with Zhang Tai's changed testimony, the Hall of Judgment now had sufficient grounds to summon Mingyi for formal questioning. If he protected her too obviously, he'd inevitably be implicated in whatever web of suspicion they were weaving. But if he didn't intervene, her delicate temperament might not withstand the harsh conditions of the Hall—the psychological pressure, the relentless interrogation, the subtle threats.

Lately, with the warmer weather, she'd been eating just one meal a day if the food didn't suit her particular tastes. The plain fare at the Hall would be even worse—coarse rice, watery soup, nothing remotely palatable. When hungry, she'd grow dizzy and weak-kneed, stumbling about with no one to lean on, no one to catch her when she fell.

The more he thought about it, the more agitated he became, each scenario worse than the last.

---

Shu Zhonglin had just exited the council chamber, mind still processing the day's political maneuvering, when he spotted Ji Bozhai ahead. Delighted, he hurried over and clapped him on the shoulder with familiar affection. "Tonight, let's go to Flower Full Tower—"

Before he could finish his invitation, a surge of violent Essence Power lashed out at him—fierce, unrelenting, absolutely lethal.

Shu Zhonglin nearly died of fright, hastily summoning his own Essence Power to evade the attack that would have seriously injured him. He scrambled onto a high wall, heart pounding, trembling with adrenaline and shock. "Bozhai! It's me!"

Ji Bozhai snapped back to reality as if waking from a trance, his face calm as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't just nearly killed his closest friend. "Why are you climbing so high?"

"Thanks to your 'generosity,'" Shu Zhonglin descended carefully, heart still racing like a frightened bird. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

If it was nothing, why such barely controlled fury? Shu Zhonglin wanted to press the issue but didn't dare, cautiously studying his friend's expression for clues to his mood. "So... are we still going to Flower Full Tower tonight?"

"Of course. We might even stay overnight."

Shu Zhonglin blinked in surprise, genuinely confused. "Overnight? I thought you've been returning early lately to accompany Ming Guniang?"

Ji Bozhai scoffed lightly, a sound of contempt that felt forced. "Who told you that?"

"Yan Xiao. He said you're quite taken with her—not only returning early every day but always bringing her little trinkets to amuse her." Shu Zhonglin sighed with something like nostalgia. "You've never treated any other girl like this before."

"He's talking nonsense."

"Huh?"

"I return early every day not for Mingyi's sake, and bringing trinkets is merely to amuse other women," Ji Bozhai said with studied indifference that sounded rehearsed, artificial. "Mingyi has been at my residence for half a month already, and I've grown somewhat weary of her."

Shu Zhonglin was taken aback, his steps slowing as he watched Ji Bozhai's retreating figure with new understanding. For some reason, he felt a fleeting sense of loneliness emanating from the man—a profound isolation that no amount of power or prestige could fill.

Why couldn't he keep anyone by his side for long? Why did everyone eventually become expendable?

But then Shu Zhonglin thought of Ji Bozhai's bright future and supreme status within the court, and he understood with the clarity of inevitability. Heaven was always fair—granting him extraordinary talent in Essence Power meant taking something else away. Perhaps the ability to love, to connect, to hold someone close without destroying them.

Ming Guniang was indeed captivating, but she was just a woman after all. Replaceable, forgettable.

Quickening his pace, Shu Zhonglin caught up with Ji Bozhai, and the two walked side by side, chatting and laughing as they left the inner courtyard and headed toward the pleasure quarters—toward distraction, toward forgetting.

---

Buxiu, having received his orders through a discreet signal, silently departed from Ji Bozhai's carriage and returned alone to the residence.

He felt a pang of guilt—this matter was his responsibility, his failure. That day, when Granny Xun had distributed rewards, everyone had been in high spirits, celebrating. Off duty for once, he had indulged in an extra drink or two, never expecting it would lead to negligence in the guest courtyard where Zhang Tai resided.

Yet he still couldn't fathom it, couldn't piece together the logic. The guest courtyard had maids and matrons keeping watch in shifts, and he himself had frequently visited to replenish supplies and check on the situation. By all accounts, Zhang Tai shouldn't have suddenly gone mad and exposed the father of the child in her belly. What had prompted this abrupt, self-destructive accusation?

As his horse rounded a corner, Buxiu noticed crowds of people running back and forth on Erjiu Street, carrying buckets of water with urgent purpose. The direction they were heading looked oddly, disturbingly familiar.

Startled, he quickly stopped a passerby and frowned. "What's happening up ahead?"

The man wiped sweat from his brow and answered anxiously, breathless, "A fire—a huge one! It's been burning for two hours already and only just started dying down. If you've got time, lend a hand, brother."

Buxiu was puzzled, his mind racing. The city strictly controlled fire hazards with regular inspections and severe penalties—how could a blaze break out in broad daylight, near official residences, and burn for so long without immediate suppression?

Urging his horse closer, he tried to see which unfortunate household was affected. Then his eyes focused, and he realized with dawning horror—oh, it was the Ji residence.

The Ji residence!

With a jolt of pure panic, Buxiu dismounted and rushed through the side gate into the compound.

Thick smoke billowed everywhere like malevolent spirits, obscuring vision and choking lungs. Maids and matrons frantically carried water to douse the flames, their faces streaked with soot and terror. Even Granny Xun was covered in ash, her usual dignity abandoned. Spotting him, she immediately grabbed his arm with desperate strength. "Quick, inform the master! Tell him to summon the Fire Suppression Division from the inner court—this fire's too big for water alone. Any later, and the entire estate will be ashes!"

Buxiu nodded, dispatching someone to notify the master with urgent instructions, then asked in genuine confusion, "How did it start?"

"How should I know? We were peacefully having lunch, everything normal, when the Hall of Judgment suddenly sent someone to see Ming Guniang. To avoid suspicion—because you know how these things look—she took all the servants to the front courtyard for the meeting. Then, out of nowhere, the storeroom in the back caught fire."

Granny Xun's voice trembled with distress and disbelief. "That storeroom was full of treasures! Gifts from Da Si, heirlooms, irreplaceable items! Now it's all gone—not a single scrap left!"

Buxiu's brow twitched at her words, suspicion forming like ice in his chest.

Unable to resist, he glanced toward the figure standing in the courtyard—the eye of this particular storm.

Dressed in a Peach Blossom Haze Phoenix Tail Dress that seemed almost obscenely beautiful against the backdrop of destruction, she held a Scattered Flower Scepter fan with casual elegance. She was positioned at the very edge of the crowd, gazing up at the roiling smoke in the sky with an expression that was difficult to read.

The black smoke reflected in her eyes, so deep it seemed bottomless—like staring into an abyss.

As if sensing his scrutiny, she turned her head and gave him a fleeting glance before her expression shifted to one of deep distress, perfectly calibrated. She beckoned to him with apparent desperation, saying, "Buxiu, come and greet this esteemed Adjudicator from the Hall of Judgment. Tell them, how much silver is our treasury worth!"

Buxiu then noticed there was another person standing beside the crowd in the courtyard, partially obscured by smoke.

A boy of fourteen or fifteen, dressed in a robe embroidered with green jujube motifs, held a thick case record in his hand. His delicate features and refined demeanor exuded the kind of brilliance that came from exceptional intelligence rather than noble birth.

Following Mingyi's gaze, he turned to look at Buxiu and gave a slight nod of acknowledgment. "How much is it worth?"

It turned out to be the newly appointed Coroner and Patrol Inspector of the Hall of Judgment—Situ Ling, the prodigy everyone whispered about.

Buxiu hurried over and cupped his hands respectfully. "Reporting to the lord, this storeroom is where our master keeps gifts bestowed by Da Si and other imperial relatives. Though there is no exact tally of their value, the gift registry is preserved and can be checked for verification."

Mingyi gasped upon hearing this, her hand flying to her throat. "Gifts from Da Si and the imperial relatives? That's no small matter!"

She then frowned at Situ Ling with theatrical concern. "Burning items bestowed by Da Si is a grave offense."

Situ Ling was both amused and exasperated by her implication. "Sister Ming, it wasn't me who set the fire."

"If not you, then who? Us?" Mingyi stamped her foot with indignation. "You came to visit, deliberately when our master was absent, and insisted on seeing me—forcing me to summon all the servants to avoid suspicion. And then, in the blink of an eye, the storeroom caught fire without anyone noticing. Isn't this a classic diversionary tactic?"

Situ Ling shook his head repeatedly, genuinely bewildered. "This is my first visit. I don't even know where the storeroom is—how could I have deliberately set it ablaze? Moreover, I came today precisely to inspect the items in that storeroom. If anything, Sister Ming, your suspicion is greater than mine."

Mingyi widened her eyes in theatrical disbelief, pointing at her own nose as she stared at him. "Me? I was originally inside Lord of Flowing Radiance's quarters the whole time—Granny Xun can vouch for that. It was only because you arrived that I was forced to come to the front courtyard. I didn't even get near the storeroom during that time. How could I be the prime suspect?"

"Sister Ming, have you forgotten?" Situ Ling tilted his head with calculated innocence. "You can use Essence—"

Before he could finish the damning sentence, Mingyi covered his mouth with lightning speed.

Buxiu and Granny Xun were stunned, only to see her give a guilty smile and mutter something under her breath that they couldn't quite hear.

They were too far away to catch the words, but Situ Ling heard every syllable as she gritted her teeth and whispered with barely contained fury, "Didn't we agree you'd keep this secret for me?"

Situ Ling blinked, trying hard to recall with genuine effort.

Back at Gong Wang's residence, she had single-handedly beaten down a group of burly men before kneeling before him in gratitude for saving her life. From start to finish, there had been no such "agreement"—she'd simply assumed cooperation in exchange for rescue.

But Sister Ming was very beautiful, and her Essence Power was exceptionally formidable—powerful enough to be dangerous. He decided to humor her and pretend he had agreed, calculating that her goodwill might prove valuable.

She released her hand and curtsied with exaggerated apology. "I saw a fly just now—forgive my rudeness, my lord."

Situ Ling shook his head graciously. "No need for courtesy, Sister Ming. As long as you tell the truth, I won't press further on other matters."

"I am telling the truth," Mingyi sighed with wounded sincerity. "When you arrived, Granny Xun and I were having a meal. How was I to know what business you had here? And I certainly wouldn't set fire to the storeroom for no reason. Everyone in the household knows how much I treasure money—why would I waste things like this?"

Situ Ling found her reasoning sound, her logic compelling. After a moment's thought, he said, "Then let's wait until the fire dies down before investigating further."

"Wise decision, my lord." Mingyi nodded and curtsied, instructing servants to bring a chair for him to sit—playing the gracious hostess despite the chaos surrounding them.

Behind them, a few servants whispered curiously, unable to contain their gossip, "How old is this boy? How is he already an official?"

"This is Situ Ling, the one with exceptional talent for investigations. Born a commoner, without Essence Power, but exceedingly clever—Lord Zhao has been relying on him a lot lately."

"Is that so..."

---

Mingyi stood beside Situ Ling, maintaining a composed smile on her face while her mind was in absolute turmoil.

How could such a coincidence happen! The little scholar she had randomly dragged into her mess to save her life that day was actually this very Situ Ling before her—the brilliant investigator everyone spoke of with equal parts admiration and fear?

If someone like him knew she possessed Essence Power and accidentally let it slip during an interrogation or casual conversation, would Ji Bozhai ever spare her? Would he see it as deception, as danger, as something that needed to be eliminated?

Distraught, she rubbed her temples, trying to maintain composure while calculating her next moves.

When the Fire Suppression Division arrived, the flames were still raging with unnatural intensity. Fortunately, those men all wielded Essence Power, and by gathering their collective strength to suppress the fire, the unquenchable blaze gradually died down into smoldering embers.

The manor's staff began assessing the damages with expressions of devastation, but Situ Ling took the lead with professional efficiency, immediately sealing off the scene with his men to preserve whatever evidence remained.

Buxiu stood behind Mingyi, slightly tense, voice low. "Miss?"

Without looking up, Mingyi replied with quiet confidence, "Don't worry."

With just those two words, Buxiu inexplicably felt reassured despite the circumstances. He did nothing else, simply waiting with the others in the front courtyard, trusting in whatever plan she had set in motion.

---

Half an hour later, Situ Ling returned with soot-stained hands and said to Mingyi, "Most everything else has burned to ashes—completely unrecognizable. Only some fabric storage boxes survived, thanks to their fireproof material."

Mingyi was visibly heartbroken, her distress apparently genuine. "Only fabric is left? What about the gold, silver, and jewels?"

Granny Xun chuckled faintly with bitter irony. "Most of what Da Si and the clan elders gifted were cultural relics—scrolls, paintings, rare fabrics. The more mundane items weren't stored in the treasury."

Her lips twitched as Mingyi muttered with disappointment, "Not treasuring gold and silver but instead valuing fabric and scraps of paper... Fine, fine. At least the losses are smaller this way."

As she spoke, Situ Ling watched her closely, scrutinizing her expressions and movements with the focus of someone trained to detect deception.

Unfortunately for him, after careful observation, he found that this sister revealed no flaws whatsoever—as if she truly didn't care what fabrics had been in those boxes, as if the fire was genuinely unexpected.

Lowering his gaze in thought, Situ Ling spoke again with calculated precision. "The reason for my visit today is also to ask Sister Mingyi—have you seen a Mulan Qing dress?"

Mingyi gave him a baffled look, perfectly innocent. "No. I already answered Lord Zhao last time. With my lowly status as a Dancing Girl, where would I get my hands on Mulan Qing?"

"Lord Ji hasn't gifted you any?"

Mingyi pursed her lips with a hint of bitterness. "Young sir, you yourself said Mulan Qing is precious. Why would Lord Ji give it to me?"

"But I've heard Sister Mingyi is deeply favored."

"Deeply favored?" She curled her lips in self-mockery that looked devastatingly real, then quickly smoothed her expression, her eyelids lowering slightly to hide the glimmer of tears forming. She pointed to the nearby corridor with trembling fingers. "With such a massive fire in the manor and me still inside, why don't you go see where Lord Ji is? If he doesn't even care whether I live or die, what favor is there to speak of?"

Situ Ling, still young and inexperienced in matters of the heart, frowned at her words with genuine concern and turned to Buxiu. "Where has Lord Ji gone?"

Buxiu grew impatient, protective instincts rising. "Young sir, you ask too much. How would we servants know our lord's whereabouts?"

"This is an investigation," Situ Ling instructed his men with quiet authority. "Go and request Lord Ji's return."

As his subordinates hurried off, he turned back to Mingyi with renewed focus. "If Lord Ji never gifted you a Mulan Qing dance dress, then where did the dress you wore to the clan's private banquet come from?"

Mingyi was puzzled, her confusion apparently genuine. "Who told you I attended the clan's private banquet?"

Situ Ling let out a light sigh and handed her a neatly transcribed confession. She took it and glanced over it, her face immediately turning pale as all color drained from her cheeks. Tears welled up in her eyes again as her lips trembled with what looked like genuine betrayal, "What is she saying?"

"Zhang Tai has already confessed, saying that on the day of the royal family banquet, Xu Lan abused her power for personal gain and had you attend the banquet in her place," Situ Ling pressed his lips together, watching her carefully. "Sister, why did you lie?"