I. "Master Mu" at the Fragrant Tea House

  The twelfth day of the eleventh month, the hour of noon.

  Fragrant Tea House, southern Luoyang.

  Li Yan stood at the mouth of an alley opposite the teahouse, leisurely chewing a piece of licorice root. His attire today was entirely new—a gray cloth robe, a medicine pouch at his waist, a slightly worn medicine chest slung on his back. His hair was loosely tied with a wooden pin, and his face was deliberately dusted with a yellowish powder, making him truly resemble a traveling physician long accustomed to the road.

  "Master Mu..." he muttered the new name under his breath, grinning. "Sounds about right."

  The medicine chest was prepared by Cui Yan, packed full: various medicinal herbs neatly categorized, a silver needle kit wrapped orderly, even a few hand-copied medical books with worn page corners, clearly well-used items. Li Yan had flipped through them; the content was detailed, the handwriting neat, definitely not something hastily thrown together.

  "Lady Cui has really invested heavily," he mused, a warm feeling spreading in his heart.

  The appointed time arrived. Li Yan spat out the licorice, straightened his collar, and walked towards the teahouse.

  Fragrant Tea House was an old establishment, a three-story wooden building with upturned eaves, a plaque at the entrance reading: "Pure Tea Washes Away the Dust, Elegant Rooms Await Guests." The moment Li Yan stepped inside, the manager approached—a wiry old man in his fifties with shrewd eyes.

  "Might you be Master Mu?" the manager asked in a low voice.

  "That is correct," Li Yan nodded.

  "Please follow me. Master Zhang is already waiting in the private room."

  The manager led him to the third floor, stopping before the innermost room, "Rain Listening Pavilion," and knocked softly. "Master Zhang, Master Mu has arrived."

  "Enter," came a mild voice from within.

  Li Yan pushed the door open and entered. The room was not large but tastefully furnished: a rosewood tea table by the window with two round-backed armchairs, a landscape painting on the wall, a pot of orchids in the corner. Seated by the tea table was a man in his thirties, dressed in a simple dark blue zhiduo robe, with a thin, scholarly face. A faint trace of pain lingered between his slightly furrowed brows.

  This was Zhang Quan.

  "This humble one is Mu Jiu. Greetings, Master Zhang." Li Yan saluted with a clasped fist.

  "Master Mu, no need for such formality." Zhang Quan rose to return the courtesy, his smile gentle. "Please, have a seat."

  Both men sat down. The manager personally brewed the tea before withdrawing, softly closing the door behind him.

  The tea was premium Longjing, its clear fragrance wafting up. Zhang Quan poured two cups, sliding one towards Li Yan. "I heard the Master is highly skilled in medicine, especially adept at treating headaches, hence I specially invited you for a discussion."

  "You flatter me," Li Yan picked up the teacup but did not drink immediately, first observing Zhang Quan's complexion. "How long has Master Zhang suffered from this headache?"

  "Approximately... seven or eight years," Zhang Quan rubbed his temples. "It comes and goes, worsening on rainy or overcast days. Palace physicians have examined me many times, and I've taken numerous prescriptions, yet it never seems to be cured."

  Li Yan set down his cup. "Might I take your pulse?"

  "Of course."

  Zhang Quan extended his left wrist. Li Yan placed three fingers on the pulse point, closing his eyes in concentration. The pulse was weak and floating, the liver-qi stagnant—signs of a headache condition, but...

  "Master Zhang," Li Yan opened his eyes. "The root of your illness lies not in the head, but in the heart."

  Zhang Quan's eyes flickered. "What makes the Master say so?"

  "The liver governs coursing and discharge. When emotions are obstructed, liver-qi stagnates; prolonged stagnation transforms into fire, which disturbs the clear orifices above, hence the headache," Li Yan explained slowly. "You have a 'river character' wrinkle between your brows, and the corners of your mouth droop slightly—this is the physiognomy of one who worries excessively over long periods. I wonder, Master, if there is some matter weighing on your heart that you cannot set down?"

  Zhang Quan fell silent for a moment, then gave a bitter smile. "The Master has keen sight. Serving in the court, how could one be without worries?"

  "That is true." Li Yan withdrew his hand, took out paper and brush from his medicine chest, and began writing a prescription. "I will first prescribe a formula to course the liver and regulate the qi. Master, try it for three doses. However..." he paused. "Illness of the heart requires medicine for the heart. If Master trusts this humble one, perhaps you could speak of the knot in your heart. Maybe I can offer some counsel."

  The words were tactful, yet laden with subtle probing. Zhang Quan stared at Li Yan for a long while, then suddenly asked, "Where is the Master from?"

  "Nanyang."

  "Nanyang..." Zhang Quan seemed thoughtful. "I heard there was an old craftsman surnamed Chen in Nanyang, with superb skill. Sadly, he passed away recently. Does the Master know of him?"

  Li Yan's heart stirred, but his expression remained unchanged. "What a coincidence. I do indeed know a craftsman surnamed Chen. He lived in Willow Tree Hamlet outside Wancheng, specializing in jade carving. Last year he suffered a strange illness, headaches splitting his skull. It was I who treated him."

  He spoke truthfully—Chen Xu did have headache problems, and Shopkeeper Sun had once prescribed medicine for him.

  Zhang Quan's fingers trembled slightly. Though he quickly regained composure, Li Yan saw it clearly.

  "And that Craftsman Chen... how is he now?" Zhang Quan's voice was very soft.

  "Much recovered, but he was old after all, and in the end..." Li Yan sighed. "Last month I heard he fell suddenly ill and passed."

  The private room fell quiet. The bustle of the market outside the window only accentuated the stillness within.

  After a long while, Zhang Quan spoke. "I will accept this prescription, Master. Three days from now, at this same hour, I trouble you to return and assess its effect."

  "Easily done." Li Yan finished writing, blew on the ink to dry it, and handed the prescription to Zhang Quan.

  Zhang Quan took it, glanced at it, then suddenly remarked, "The Master's calligraphy... has remarkable character."

  Li Yan's handwriting was taught by his master—clerical script with a cursive flair, free and unrestrained, indeed unlike that of an ordinary physician. He smiled. "Wandering the Jianghu, one must know a bit of everything. Poor handwriting won't do; one would be laughed at even for writing prescriptions."

  The explanation was reasonable. Zhang Quan asked no more, taking a silver ingot from his sleeve. "For your consultation."

  "Too much," Li Yan declined.

  "It is fitting." Zhang Quan insisted. "In three days, I will trouble you again."

  Li Yan ceased refusing, accepted the silver, and rose to take his leave.

  At the doorway, Zhang Quan suddenly called out, "Master Mu."

  "Does Master have further instructions?"

  "Luoyang has been unsettled of late," Zhang Quan looked at him, his expression complex. "A physician who heals and prescribes... would do well to... avoid meddling in others' affairs."

  Li Yan grinned. "This humble one only treats illness, does not meddle. Master, set your heart at ease."

  He pushed the door open and left, his footsteps fading down the hallway.

  Zhang Quan remained seated, looking at the prescription in his hand, his fingers lightly rubbing the edge of the paper. Suddenly, he lifted the prescription towards the light, examining it closely—in the lower right corner was an extremely faint, almost invisible mark.

  It was a small orchid seal impression.

  Zhang Quan's hand began to shake. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when he opened them again, his gaze held unwavering resolve.

  "Finally... it has come."

  II. Undercurrents in Yuan Shao's Study

  That same afternoon. The Yuan Estate.

  Cui Yan sat in the guest chair on the west side of the study, a cup of clear tea steaming before her. She wore a light blue-green quju robe today, overlaid with a silver-gray cloak. Her hair was styled simply, adorned only with a white jade pin, presenting an elegant and dignified appearance.

  Yuan Shao sat in the host's seat, idly turning a jade pendant in his hand, his smile genial. "Lady Cui looks well today. I trust the 'minor indisposition' from days past has fully recovered?"

  "Your concern honors me, Commandant. I am much improved." Cui Yan inclined her head slightly.

  "Good, that is good." Yuan Shao set down the pendant, his expression turning serious. "I invited you today to discuss a minor matter."

  "Please speak freely, Commandant."

  "How was the harvest along the Qinghe Prefecture grain transport route this year?"

  Alarm bells rang in Cui Yan's mind, but her face remained calm. "Adequate. Though some areas suffered drought, overall it remains stable."

  "Good." Yuan Shao nodded. "To be frank with you, my lady, I currently command three thousand private troops. Provisions are somewhat tight. I wished to ask the Cui family for a favor—to permit use of the Qinghe grain route to transport some grain from Ji Province. Of course, all due fees will be paid in full."

  'Borrowing the grain route' was a pretext; probing the Cui family's strength and stance was the true aim. Cui Yan understood perfectly. After a moment's thought, she said, "This matter... I must discuss with the elders of my clan. Although the Cui family manages the Qinghe route, it involves local government offices; the procedures are cumbersome."

  "Understood, understood." Yuan Shao's smile remained. "But you know, my lady, the situation in Luoyang is delicate now. More strength means more security. I heard..." he paused. "...that you have been associating rather closely with certain Jianghu figures of late. That is naturally your private affair, but if someone with ill intent were to make an issue of it, it might prove disadvantageous for the Cui family."

  The threat was now blatant. Cui Yan picked up her teacup, gently blowing on the steam. "The Commandant is well-informed. However, that Jianghu friend merely once saved my life. I am simply repaying a debt of gratitude. As for other matters... I know my own limits."

  "Knowing your limits is good." Yuan Shao leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Zhang the Regular Attendant also inquired about you recently."

  Cui Yan's hand trembled, tea nearly spilling.

  "Zhang Rang?" She forced composure. "Might I ask what instruction Zhang the Regular Attendant has?"

  "Instruction is too strong a word," Yuan Shao said meaningfully. "Zhang the Regular Attendant merely said that Lady Cui is exceptionally clever. If she could 'assess the situation and adapt,' her future prospects would be limitless."

  Assess the situation and adapt—meaning she should choose a side.

  Cui Yan set down her cup, looking directly at Yuan Shao. "The Commandant's words today, I have taken to heart. Regarding the grain route, I will give you an answer within three days. As for other matters... I am a daughter of the Cui family. Everything must be weighed against the family's interests."

  The reply was watertight. A flicker of admiration passed through Yuan Shao's eyes, quickly concealed.

  "Good. Then I shall await your good news." He stood up. "By the way, I am hosting a banquet here in three days, inviting several court colleagues. If you are free, my lady, please do come."

  "If no urgent matters arise, I shall certainly impose on your hospitality."

  Cui Yan rose to take her leave. Yuan Shao personally saw her to the study door, watching her retreating figure, the smile slowly fading from his face.

  "Feng Ji," he called.

  A man emerged from behind a screen—his strategist, Feng Ji.

  "My lord."

  "What do you think? Which side will Cui Yan choose?"

  Feng Ji stroked his beard. "This woman's mind is deep, hard to fathom. But since she was willing to come today, it shows she is at least not averse to associating with you, my lord. As for Zhang Rang's side... the Cui family are scholar-officials; they are not natural allies of the eunuchs. In my view, she is more likely to choose you, my lord."

  "I hope so." Yuan Shao turned back into the study. "Keep a close watch on her. And that 'Jianghu friend' of hers—find out exactly who he is."

  "Yes."

  III. A Night Visit to the Study, Discovering a Legacy Secret

  Night of the thirteenth day of the eleventh month.

  Li Yan crouched on the wall of the rear courtyard of Zhang Quan's residence, a mint leaf between his teeth, his eyes gleaming in the dark.

  Zhang Quan's residence was not large—two courtyards, located in Yonghe Ward in the east city, surrounded mostly by houses of mid-to-low-ranking officials, not conspicuous. But after observing for half a shichen, Li Yan spotted at least four guards in the shadows, their positions deliberate, covering each other.

  "Defenses this tight? Only the guilty would need this," he muttered, taking a small paper packet from his robe. Inside was a special "Calming Powder" prepared by Shopkeeper Sun—not a knockout drug, but it made people drowsy and unfocused.

  He calculated the wind direction and lightly scattered the powder towards the positions of the two nearest guards. The powder drifted on the wind, colorless and odorless, merging with the night.

  After waiting the time it takes an incense stick to burn, the two guards began yawning. One even dozed off leaning against a pillar.

  The opportunity had come.

  Li Yan flipped down from the wall, landing soundlessly, moving along the wall's base like a night cat. According to the intelligence Cui Yan provided, Zhang Quan's study was the second room on the east wing. He reached the window, inserted a thin blade into the window crack, and gently pried—

  Click.

  The latch opened.

  Li Yan pushed the window open, slipped inside, and immediately closed it. The study was pitch black, only moonlight filtering through the paper windows, barely outlining shapes.

  Not daring to light a lamp, he took out a firestarter from his robe, shielding it with his collar to emit only a faint glow. The study was small: a row of bookshelves against the wall, a writing desk in the middle, and a curio shelf in the corner.

  Li Yan first searched the desk. It held some official documents, mostly routine records of the Directorate of Imperial Manufactories, nothing special. The drawers contained some letters; he skimmed them quickly—all ordinary correspondence.

  Had he guessed wrong?

  He moved to the bookshelves, running his hands along the spines. Suddenly, his hand stopped on a copy of Essential Techniques for the Welfare of the People (Qimin Yaoshu)—this book was abnormally thick.

  He pulled it out. Sure enough, the book was hollowed out, containing an oilcloth package. Unwrapping it revealed several items: a letter, the paper already yellowed; half a jade token, its pattern extremely similar to the fragments Li Yan possessed; and a small porcelain vial labeled "Use with Caution."

  Li Yan read the letter first. It was in Zhang Feng's handwriting, addressed to his son:

  "To my son Quan: My life is nearing its end. I am implicated in the affair of Grand General Dou. Now that the plot has failed, I will surely be silenced. I do not fear death, only worry for your safety. I leave you two objects: First, half of a jade token, a token of trust given by the Grand General. Holding this can prove my innocence. Second, a vial of medicinal liquid, the essence of the revealing secret formula I developed. Using it will reveal the complete hidden text. However, remember: this liquid has another use—it can verify the authenticity of the 'Dew-Receiving Elixir' (Cheng Lu Dan). This elixir is a secret palace medicine, concerning the imperial bloodline. You must not involve yourself. If someday someone comes seeking you holding the other half of the jade token, you may trust them. Your father's final words."

  The letter was brief but laden with immense information. Shaken, Li Yan quickly copied the contents, then folded the letter back to its original state.

  He picked up the half jade token, comparing it with the four fragments he carried—the patterns indeed matched, but this was clearly part of a complete token, whereas his pieces were shards.

  "Ten jade tokens... and this is only half of one?" Li Yan frowned.

  Finally, the small vial. He carefully opened it and sniffed; the scent resembled the revealing reagent but was more potent. He poured a drop onto the back of his hand, waited a moment—no reaction.

  "Verify the 'Dew-Receiving Elixir'..." Li Yan murmured to himself.

  The Dew-Receiving Elixir—he had heard his master mention it. Legend said it was created by alchemists during Emperor Wu of Han's reign, a secret palace medicine said to prolong life, but its formula had long been lost. Did the harem of Emperor Ling still possess it? And it concerned the imperial bloodline?

  As he pondered, footsteps suddenly sounded outside!

  Startled, Li Yan immediately wrapped the items and returned them to their place, shoved the book back on the shelf, and ducked behind the curio shelf.

  The study door opened, and Zhang Quan entered. He did not light a lamp but went directly to the bookshelf, pulled out the Essential Techniques for the Welfare of the People, opened it and glanced inside, seeming relieved, then replaced it.

  Then he walked to the writing desk and sat down, staring into the moonlight. After a long while, he sighed softly. "Father... The person you spoke of may have already come. But I... should I trust him?"

  Li Yan held his breath, not moving a muscle.

  Zhang Quan sat for about half an incense stick's time before rising to leave. Only when his footsteps faded did Li Yan emerge from behind the shelf, wiping cold sweat from his brow.

  Too close.

  Not daring to linger, he climbed out the window and retraced his route. When scaling the wall, the two guards were still dozing; he left without incident.

  By the time he returned to the Hall of Benevolent Healing, it was the hour of the rat. Shopkeeper Sun was still awake, waiting in the main hall.

  "How did it go?" Shopkeeper Sun asked.

  "Productive." Li Yan took out the copied letter. "Look at this."

  Shopkeeper Sun read it, his expression turning grave. "The Dew-Receiving Elixir... That thing still exists? I thought it was long lost."

  "Master mentioned it?"

  "Yes." Shopkeeper Sun nodded. "Your master spent some time in the palace when he was young, heard old eunuchs speak of it. They said it was a secret transmission from a previous dynasty, the formula complex, ingredients precious, usable only by those of the pure imperial bloodline. If the bloodline was impure, consuming it meant instant death."

  Li Yan drew a sharp breath. "Then this liquid verifying the elixir's authenticity... what does that mean?"

  If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  "It means this liquid can test whether the Dew-Receiving Elixir has been tampered with, or... whether it is suitable for a particular person to take." Shopkeeper Sun looked at Li Yan. "If Zhang Rang possesses the Dew-Receiving Elixir and is using this liquid to test it... what is he planning?"

  They looked at each other, the same possibility dawning on both.

  "To verify a prince's bloodline..." Li Yan said quietly. "Or, to fabricate evidence of bloodline."

  Shopkeeper Sun was silent a long time before saying, "This is too monumental. You must tell Lady Cui immediately."

  "I'll go tomorrow."

  IV. Cui Yan's Three Lines

  The fourteenth day of the eleventh month. Secret chamber of the Stargazing Tower.

  Cui Yan stood before a sand table, several small flags in her hand, simulating the situation. The table depicted Luoyang and its surrounding terrain, small flags of various colors representing different factions.

  Qingwu stood nearby, holding a tea tray, hesitant to speak.

  "Speak," Cui Yan said without turning.

  "Young Mistress, you haven't rested properly for three days," Qingwu whispered. "Last night you worked until the hour of the ox..."

  "Many matters. Could not sleep." Cui Yan planted a red flag at the Western Garden Army barracks. "Jian Shuo has been active lately, changing guard posts three times. He is definitely preparing something."

  "What should we do?"

  "Three lines." Cui Yan turned, walked to the writing desk, sat down, picked up a brush, and began writing on paper:

  "First, have Cui Jun, under the pretext of 'auditing military equipment depletion,' make contact with mid-to-low level officers of the Western Garden Army to gather records of Jian Shuo's abnormal troop movements. Focus on the past month—check if there have been any large-scale weapons disbursements."

  "Second, go through He Jin's wife." Cui Yan continued writing. "Pass a message to He Jin: 'Zhang the Regular Attendant has been frequently contacting the Directorate of Imperial Manufactories lately, seemingly preparing objects beyond those for the Winter Solstice Sacrifice rituals.' He Jin and Zhang Rang are already at odds. This message should be enough to arouse his suspicion."

  "Third, transfer family assets." She wrote the third item. "Have Cui Fu arrange to secretly transfer thirty percent of Luoyang assets to Xu Province. Grain shops, cloth stores, apothecaries—do it in batches, avoid drawing attention."

  Qingwu noted each point, unable to resist asking, "Young Mistress, are we... leaving Luoyang?"

  "Prepare for a rainy day." Cui Yan set down the brush. "Dong Zhuo stirs restlessly in Xiliang. He Jin and the eunuchs are at each other's throats. Luoyang will fall into chaos sooner or later. The Cui family cannot put all its eggs in one basket."

  As she spoke, the chamber door was softly knocked—three long, two short, the agreed signal.

  "He is here." Cui Yan rose. "Qingwu, open the door."

  Li Yan entered, travel-worn but with bright eyes.

  "Lady Cui, a major discovery." He went straight to the point, taking the copied letter from his robe.

  Cui Yan took it, scanning quickly, her expression growing increasingly grave. After reading, she was silent a long while before saying slowly, "The Dew-Receiving Elixir... So Zhang Rang indeed has designs on the imperial succession."

  "You knew of this?" Li Yan asked.

  "Heard some rumors." Cui Yan walked to the window. "Emperor Ling's progeny is sparse. Prince Bian (Liu Bian) is born of Empress He. Prince Xie (Liu Xie) is born of Lady Wang. Lady Wang died early; Prince Xie is raised by Empress Dowager Dong. There have long been palace rumors questioning Prince Xie's bloodline..."

  "Zhang Rang wants to use the Dew-Receiving Elixir and the reagent to make a move?" Li Yan finished.

  "More than that." Cui Yan turned. "The Winter Solstice Sacrifice is a major event. If during the sacrifice one were to 'expose' issues with a prince's bloodline, supported by certain 'evidence'... Deposing the elder, establishing the younger, even installing a new sovereign—all are possible."

  Li Yan drew another sharp breath. "Such audacity!"

  "Without audacity, how could he lead the Ten Regular Attendants?" Cui Yan gave a cold smile. "However, for us, this may not be a bad thing."

  "How so?"

  "If Zhang Rang moves against the princes, He Jin will certainly not stand idly by. The conflict between the consort clan and the eunuchs will erupt completely." A glint flashed in Cui Yan's eyes. "Amidst chaos lies opportunity."

  Li Yan looked at her, suddenly feeling she seemed somewhat unfamiliar. The Cui Yan before him was calm, rational, even somewhat cold, a far cry from the young woman who had tended to him by his sickbed.

  "Lady Cui," he asked softly. "What is it you truly want?"

  Cui Yan was taken aback, looking at him. "Why ask that?"

  "I just feel..." Li Yan scratched his head. "You're laying so many plans, calculating so deeply... surely you must have an aim. Is it just for the family? Or..."

  "To live." Cui Yan cut him off. "In this world, to live well, one must have power. With power, one can protect those they wish to protect, do what they wish to do."

  She paused, her voice lowering slightly. "Li Yan, I am not you. You can roam the world with your sword, aid the oppressed when you see injustice, leave whenever you choose. I cannot. Behind me stands the entire Cui family, hundreds of lives. One misstep, and it's an abyss from which there is no return."

  Li Yan fell silent. He recalled his master's words: "The Jianghu folk are free, but also lonely. Scions of great families have support, but also burdens."

  Each had their own difficulties.

  "I understand." He nodded. "What next?"

  "You continue contact with Zhang Quan." Cui Yan walked back to the desk. "Reexamine him in three days. Find a way to obtain the complete jade token and the reagent. I will arrange support."

  "Agreed."

  "And," Cui Yan looked at him. "Be careful. Since Zhang Rang is looking for you, he might set an ambush at the teahouse."

  "Don't worry," Li Yan grinned. "My fate is tough."

  Cui Yan looked at his carefree smile and sighed inwardly. This man was always so optimistic, as if the sky falling could serve as a blanket.

  But she did not know how long that optimism could last.

  V. Cards on the Table at the Teahouse

  The fifteenth day of the eleventh month, noon.

  Fragrant Tea House, Rain Listening Pavilion.

  When Li Yan pushed the door open, Zhang Quan was already waiting. Tea was brewed, pastries laid out, but Zhang Quan's complexion was worse than last time, darker circles under his eyes.

  "Master Mu." Zhang Quan rose to greet him, his smile strained.

  "Master Zhang." Li Yan clasped his fists. "Seeing your complexion, you have not slept well these past few days?"

  "The old ailment recurs, the headache is severe." Zhang Quan rubbed his temples. "I took two doses of your prescription. There seemed improvement, but last night it worsened again."

  Li Yan took his pulse. The pulse was more chaotic than last time, liver-fire exuberant, heart-qi agitated—signs of extreme anxiety.

  "Master," he withdrew his hand. "For this illness, medicine alone is insufficient. If the knot in your heart remains unresolved, the root of the illness cannot be eradicated."

  Zhang Quan gave a bitter smile. "The Master speaks truly. It is just that this knot... cannot be undone."

  "Why not?"

  "Because..." Zhang Quan looked at Li Yan, his expression complex. "Because I do not know whom to trust."

  Li Yan's heart stirred, but his face remained impassive. "Master holds a high position and weighty authority. Surely trustworthy people surround you."

  "High position? Weighty authority?" Zhang Quan shook his head. "I am but a lowly Deputy Director of the Directorate of Imperial Manufactories. What 'high position'? As for 'weighty authority'... Ha. My position—how many eyes are fixed upon it? One misstep, and it's a bottomless chasm."

  He paused, then suddenly asked, "Master, wandering the Jianghu, have you ever faced a difficult choice?"

  "Often." Li Yan spoke truthfully. "For example, saving one person might harm another. Speaking one truth might bring death upon oneself."

  "How did you choose?"

  "By conscience." Li Yan said. "Whom my conscience tells me to save, I save. What my conscience tells me to say, I say. As for the consequences... do my best, leave the rest to fate."

  Zhang Quan was stunned. After a long while, he murmured, "Conscience... Do I still have a conscience?"

  "Why would you say that, Master?"

  "My father..." Zhang Quan's voice trembled slightly. "My father died under unclear circumstances, yet I dare not investigate deeply. I even have to pretend ignorance, continue working under my enemy. Someone like me... still has a conscience?"

  Li Yan was silent a moment, then took the half jade token from his robe—a near-perfect replica arranged by Cui Yan.

  "Does Master recognize this object?"

  Zhang Quan's eyes widened suddenly. He reached for it, but Li Yan withdrew it.

  "This... this is..." Zhang Quan's voice trembled.

  "Someone entrusted me to deliver this to you." Li Yan said slowly. "And to convey a message: 'The child of an old friend can be trusted.'"

  Zhang Quan stared at Li Yan for a long moment, then suddenly laughed—a desolate laugh. "The child of an old friend... My father waited so many years. Finally, it has come."

  He took the real half token from his own robe, placing it side by side with the replica on the table. The patterns of the two tokens matched perfectly, seamlessly.

  "This is the genuine article." Zhang Quan said. "Yours is a replica. But a very fine one, almost indistinguishable."

  Li Yan's heart tightened—discovered?

  But Zhang Quan's next words relieved him. "But the fact you can produce a replica means you have seen the real one, or at least seen its design. That is enough."

  He pushed both tokens towards Li Yan. "Take them. And this—"

  He took a small wooden box from his robe, opening it to reveal the vial of reagent and a new letter.

  "This is my father's final handwritten letter. It records the truth about the Dew-Receiving Elixir and the complete usage of the reagent." Zhang Quan looked at Li Yan. "I do not know who you are, nor who stands behind you. But my father said, the holder of the jade token can be trusted. I trust my father."

  Li Yan accepted the box. It felt heavy, as if weighing a thousand pounds.

  "Master Zhang," he said solemnly. "Your father's injustice will one day be brought to light."

  "I do not seek it brought to light," Zhang Quan shook his head. "I only seek... I only seek a path of survival for the Zhang family. My wife is newly with child. I do not want the child to be born into..."

  He could not continue.

  A pang of sorrow struck Li Yan's heart. He nodded firmly. "I promise you. I will do my utmost."

  Zhang Quan looked deeply at him, then rose and walked to the window, gazing at the street scene outside, his back to Li Yan. "Go. Leave by the back door. I have arranged it. Henceforth... do not come again."

  "Master, take care."

  Li Yan gathered the items and turned to leave. At the doorway, he glanced back—Zhang Quan still stood by the window, his figure lonely and desolate.

  This man who knew his father died unjustly yet had to endure for years, this minor official surviving in the crevice between eunuchs and the consort clan, this husband about to become a father...

  Li Yan suddenly felt the weight on his shoulders grow heavier.

  VI. Flames and Ambush

  Night of the sixteenth day of the eleventh month.

  West city, the Cui family warehouse.

  Flames shot towards the sky.

  The warehouse, piled high with cloth, medicinal herbs, and grain, was now fully ablaze, the fierce fire illuminating half the sky. Workers desperately fought the fire, but to little avail.

  When Cui Jun arrived, more than half the warehouse was already consumed. His face was ashen. Grabbing a worker, he demanded, "What happened?"

  "I—I don't know, sir!" the worker cried. "We were taking inventory when suddenly a fire broke out, spreading everywhere at once..."

  "Arson?"

  "Didn't—didn't see anyone..."

  Cui Jun released him, staring at the roaring flames, fists clenched so tight his knuckles cracked. This was the Cui family's largest warehouse in Luoyang, stock worth well over a thousand gold—reduced to ashes in one fire.

  "Jian Shuo..." he ground his teeth.

  He had just audited the Western Garden Army's weaponry records that very day, and the warehouse burned that night. What a coincidence.

  Meanwhile, in the alley near the Hall of Benevolent Healing.

  Li Yan was walking back, carrying supper for Shopkeeper Sun—two steamers of buns, a flask of wine. The day's haul had been substantial; in good spirits, he hummed a tune, his steps light.

  The alley was deep, flanked by high walls, moonlight unable to penetrate, pitch black. When Li Yan reached the midway point, he suddenly stopped.

  Too quiet.

  Not even the chirp of insects.

  He casually set down the supper, his hand moving to the short knife at his waist. At that moment, a whistling sound pierced the air!

  Three crossbow bolts shot from three directions, sealing all his escape routes. Li Yan dropped and rolled, dodging two; the third grazed his shoulder, tearing away a piece of cloth.

  "Fine aim," he sneered, rolling to his feet.

  Seven or eight men emerged from the darkness, all masked, holding short knives, their movements synchronized—clearly well-trained assassins. Their leader was a robust man with icy eyes.

  "Li Yan?" the man asked.

  "And who are you?" Li Yan grinned. "Blocking the road late at night—want to treat me to a meal?"

  "The man who wants your life." The leader waved a hand. "Attack!"

  The seven or eight men charged simultaneously. Li Yan did not retreat but advanced, his short knife flashing from its sheath as he met them.

  Blades glinted and shadows danced in the narrow alley. Li Yan's martial skills were not weak, but his opponents were many and coordinated. Soon he was at a disadvantage. His left arm was slashed, his back struck, pain licking like fire.

  "Damn it, ganging up, no honor!" he cursed, pulling a packet of lime powder from his robe and flinging it.

  While their eyes were blinded, he turned and ran. But after a few paces, two more men appeared ahead, blocking his path.

  Trapped front and back.

  Li Yan's heart sank—today he might truly fall here. He remembered the coin Cui Yan gave him, about to take it out, when he caught a whiff of an unusual fragrance.

  The scent was faint, but inhaling it caused immediate dizziness and blurred vision.

  "Poison..." By the time he realized, it was too late. His legs gave way, and he collapsed to his knees.

  The masked leader approached, the tip of his knife at Li Yan's throat. "Someone wants your life. Don't blame us."

  The blade descended—

  Clang!

  An arrow shot forth, striking the knife from the leader's hand with perfect accuracy. Immediately, a rain of arrows followed, aimed at the masked assassins. Screams erupted as several fell in an instant.

  Li Yan looked up with effort. At the alley mouth stood several men. The figure at their head was familiar—

  Cui Jun.

  "Take them alive!" Cui Jun barked.

  His men, all Cui family elite, quickly subdued the remaining assassins. Cui Jun hurried to Li Yan's side, helping him up. "Brother Li, are you alright?"

  "St—still breathing..." Li Yan gasped. "How did you get here?"

  "Young Mistress anticipated Jian Shuo would retaliate, ordered me to protect you in secret." Cui Jun examined his wounds. "Fortunately, only superficial wounds. But you're poisoned. Need to detoxify quickly."

  Li Yan took out the special coin, pried it open, and swallowed the pill inside. A cooling sensation spread from his throat; the dizziness gradually receded.

  "Lady Cui's medicine... truly effective." He gave a pained smile.

  Cui Jun had his men clean the scene and take the captives away. Li Yan was helped onto a carriage and returned to the Hall of Benevolent Healing.

  In the carriage, Cui Jun's expression was grave. "The warehouse burned. Jian Shuo is warning us."

  "Because we're digging too deep." Li Yan leaned against the carriage wall. "But he's also exposed one thing—"

  "What?"

  "He's desperate." A glint flashed in Li Yan's eyes. "A cornered dog will jump the wall. It means the direction of our investigation is correct, and we're very close to the truth."

  Cui Jun looked at him, suddenly realizing this usually easygoing wuxia actually saw things very clearly.

  "Brother Li," he said solemnly. "Thank you for all you've done for the Cui family."

  "Don't thank me," Li Yan waved a hand. "I'm doing it for myself. Besides, Lady Cui paid. I'm quite expensive."

  Cui Jun smiled, but the smile quickly faded. "What does the Young Mistress plan next?"

  "Don't know." Li Yan looked out the window at the profound night. "But I know a storm is coming."

  VII. Conspiracy in the Secret Chamber

  Night of the sixteenth day, the eleventh month. Secret chamber of the Stargazing Tower.

  Li Yan, his wounds bandaged, sat in a chair, somewhat pale. Cui Yan stood opposite him, holding the letter and reagent from Zhang Quan, brows tightly knit.

  Qingwu was decocting medicine nearby, its fragrance filling the air.

  "The Dew-Receiving Elixir's formula, method of refinement, usage taboos..." Cui Yan set down the letter, looking at Li Yan. "Zhang Feng recorded everything. He said Emperor Ling once ordered him to secretly refine this elixir to verify the princes' bloodlines. But after completion, Zhang Rang interfered, replacing several key ingredients, causing the elixir's efficacy to change drastically."

  "How changed?"

  "The original Dew-Receiving Elixir could only be taken by those of pure Liu clan blood; otherwise, it would cause reversed qi and blood, leading to death. But the altered elixir... as long as one first took another kind of 'auxiliary medicine,' anyone could withstand its potency and exhibit the false appearance of 'pure bloodline.'"

  Li Yan drew a sharp breath. "Zhang Rang wants to fabricate bloodline evidence!"

  "More than that." Cui Yan walked to the sand table. "During the Winter Solstice Sacrifice, by tradition, the princes must take the Dew-Receiving Elixir before the altar to signify Heaven's Mandate. If at that time, after taking the elixir, Prince Bian shows abnormalities while Prince Xie remains unharmed..."

  "Depose the elder, establish the younger!" Li Yan finished.

  "Yes." Cui Yan nodded. "And Zhang Rang holds the 'auxiliary medicine,' ensuring Prince Xie remains safe. Thus, he can justifiably depose Empress He's son, Prince Bian, and establish Lady Wang's son, Prince Xie, as Emperor. He Jin will certainly oppose, but if it is 'Heaven's will'..."

  She left it unfinished, but Li Yan understood.

  A truly grand scheme.

  "We must stop this." Li Yan stood up. "We cannot let Zhang Rang succeed."

  "How to stop him?" Cui Yan looked at him. "Tell He Jin? Will He Jin believe it? Even if he does, what evidence does he have? Zhang Feng is dead. Zhang Quan dares not come forward. With only this letter, Zhang Rang's guilt cannot be established."

  "Then what?"

  "We turn his own scheme against him." A flash of resolve crossed Cui Yan's eyes. "Zhang Rang wants to play with fire; we'll make the blaze even greater."

  She returned to the desk, brush swiftly writing:

  "First, send a partial copy of this letter to He Jin, but withhold critical details. Only say 'Zhang Rang intends to harm the princes during the Winter Solstice Sacrifice.' He Jin is suspicious; he will certainly increase vigilance."

  "Second, through Yuan Shao, leak the information to the Purist officials. Scholar-officials value ritual law above all. Knowing Zhang Rang seeks to tamper with the imperial succession, they will certainly attack en masse."

  "Third," she paused. "We enter the game ourselves."

  "How?"

  "At the Winter Solstice Sacrifice, you and I infiltrate the observation contingent." Cui Yan looked at him. "You provide support from outside. I will find a way to approach the altar. If Zhang Rang truly intends to tamper with the Dew-Receiving Elixir, we expose it on the spot."

  Li Yan's eyes widened. "Too dangerous! The sacrifice guard is stringent. If discovered..."

  "Hence the need for a meticulous plan." Cui Yan set down the brush. "We have one month. Enough time to prepare."

  Li Yan looked at her. This woman was always thus—seemingly calm and rational, yet audacious to the core. The Sacrifice was a monumental event; she actually dared to scheme around it?

  "Lady Cui," he asked softly. "Why do you strive so desperately?"

  Cui Yan was silent a long while before saying, "My father often said, scholar-officials standing in court should take the world's burdens as their own. Though I am a woman, once I entered this game, I could not stand idly by. Moreover..."

  She looked at Li Yan, a complex flicker in her eyes. "...I do not wish to see this world grow worse."

  Li Yan's heart was shaken. He suddenly understood that Cui Yan and he were actually alike—outwardly one rational and calculating, the other casual and free-spirited, but at their core, both possessed a stubborn refusal to drift with the tide.

  "Alright." He nodded firmly. "I'll accompany you."

  Cui Yan smiled. Faint, but genuine.

  "Now," she returned to the sand table. "Let's plan in detail."

  VIII. The Brocade is Woven, Only the Moves Remain

  Morning of the seventeenth day, eleventh month.

  Cui Yan stood by the window of the Cui residence study, watching the fine snow falling outside. A sleepless night left her eyes bloodshot, but her spirit remained alert.

  Qingwu entered with breakfast, carefully setting it on the table. "Young Mistress, eat something."

  "Mm." Cui Yan returned to the desk, picked up her chopsticks, but had little appetite.

  "About Young Master Li..." Qingwu ventured softly.

  "His wounds are fine; the poison is neutralized." Cui Yan said. "Shopkeeper Sun is caring for him. A few days of rest will suffice."

  "That's good." Qingwu sighed in relief. "Last night truly frightened this servant. If something had happened to Young Master Li..."

  "He will not come to harm." Cui Yan cut her off, tone firm. "Nor will I allow it."

  Qingwu looked at her, hesitating.

  "Speak your mind."

  "Young Mistress," Qingwu gathered courage. "Regarding Young Master Li... do you perhaps..."

  "Perhaps what?" Cui Yan raised her eyes.

  Qingwu's face reddened, she lowered her head. "N—nothing..."

  Cui Yan did not press, lowering her head to eat the porridge. It was fragrant, but she tasted nothing.

  What were her feelings for Li Yan? She herself was unclear. Partners? Friends? Or...

  She shook her head, dismissing the thoughts. Now was not the time.

  After breakfast, Cui Fu came to report.

  "Young Mistress, all three lines are arranged." Cui Fu said quietly. "Cui Jun has made contact with three mid-level Western Garden Army officers, obtained records of Jian Shuo's guard post changes over the past month. There are indeed anomalies—around the fifteenth of the La month, the Western Garden Army had large-scale movements, destination unknown."

  "And He Jin's side?"

  "The message has been delivered. He Jin's wife entered the palace to see Empress He this morning, returned looking grave. He Jin subsequently gathered his advisers for secret discussion."

  "And Yuan Shao?"

  "Commandant Yuan sent an invitation, asking you to attend his banquet in three days. The messenger specifically added, 'The Commandant has prepared the grain route documents, awaiting only your review.'"

  He was pressing for her stance. Cui Yan gave a cold smile. "Reply that I will attend on time."

  "Yes." Cui Fu withdrew.

  Cui Yan walked to the desk, spread a blank sheet of paper, picked up her brush, and wrote:

  Silken schemes weave a hidden game,

  Embers rise, a prairie fire's frame.

  The Winter Sacrifice, winds of change will blow,

  Can two stars light the path we do not know?

  Finished, she stared at the poem, lost in thought.

  The game was set, the pieces placed. Next, it depended on how each side responded.

  Outside the window, the snow fell heavier, clothing all of Luoyang in silvery white, pristine. But Cui Yan knew beneath that purity surged undercurrents, lurked hidden perils.

  She pushed the window open. Cold wind struck her face, carrying the clear chill of snow.

  "Young Mistress, be careful of catching cold." Qingwu brought a cloak.

  Cui Yan accepted it, draping it over her shoulders, yet remained at the window. She gazed towards the distant palace, its grand halls majestic yet indistinct in the snow.

  The Winter Solstice Sacrifice. One month remained.

  One month later—would the dust settle, or would flames of conflict rise anew?

  She did not know.

  She only knew she had already set foot on this path of no return, with no possibility of turning back.

  And that carefree wuxia, always wearing a smile, was now also drawn into this whirlpool. She had pulled him in. She bore responsibility for his safety.

  "Li Yan," she murmured to herself, so softly only she could hear. "You must... you must survive."

  Snow fell silently, covering the courtyard, covering the streets, covering this ancient capital of a thousand years.

  Beneath the purity, undercurrents surged.

  The brocade was woven; only the moves remained.