Li Ce took up a crossbow, his fingers tracing the curved bow stave, the straight limbs, the cold mechanism. He gently flipped it over and found a line of seal-script inscription: "Made in the ninth year by craftsman An of the Armory Bureau, issued to Yumen." Everyone present understood the meaning. The ninth year referred to the year of manufacture. Judging by the pristine condition of the weapon, it was clearly from the current emperor's reign—Tian'an, ninth year.
In Tian'an's ninth year, a craftsman named An at the Armory Bureau forged this crossbow, commissioned by the court and issued to Yumen. Yumen lay under the jurisdiction of the Northwest Army. How then did a crossbow from the Northwest Army end up in Jinzhou?
Officials exchanged uneasy glances, the paling face belonging to Zhou Ci, the Jinzhou governor. "I do not understand," he muttered, tilting his head to the sky as if his official hat was slipping off.
"There must be inscriptions on the crossbows from Great Huai Tree Village as well," Li Ce said calmly. "I will verify everything meticulously and report to His Majesty in full detail."
"Make sure to include the assassination attempt from today!" Zhou Ci urged. "I will also submit a memorial."
After speaking, he looked toward his superior, Zheng Fengan, who nodded in silent agreement.
"How is Master Hu doing? Is he well?" They needed a clear account of Hu Jia's condition.
Hu Jia lay on his bed, eyes tightly shut, but upon hearing the question, he struggled to make a sound. "Alive... I am alive. Under this vast sky and bright sun, who dares act so recklessly? I too will submit a memorial!"
Lin Qing was far from idle. As a censor, besides reporting the assassination attempt, he prepared impeachments accusing the Jinzhou officials of negligence, Li Ce of reckless ambition, and Ye Chang Geng... but then he paused, feeling Ye Chang Geng might be blameless. He tore up the draft and resolved to praise him instead.
"Your Highness's skin is even more supple than at home," the maid sincerely complimented, pouring the warmed petal-infused liquid over Gesang Meiduo's shoulder.
Submerged in the bath, surrounded by mist, Gesang Meiduo's sharp chin barely touched the water's surface as her eyes closed slightly.
"Did everything go smoothly?" her voice was but a whisper.
"Smoothly," the maid replied, "though unfortunately General Ye left. He protected Li Ce fiercely, killing many of our men."
"Death is irreversible," Gesang Meiduo said softly. "Remember to show kindness to their families."
Silence fell. Her fingers brushed lightly through the water, lifting a delicate petal. Once severed from its stem, even soaked, a petal loses its vitality.
"What will the weather be like tomorrow?" she asked suddenly and inexplicably.
The maid glanced out the window in confusion, shaking her head. "I do not know, my lady."
Indeed, even in the Tang dynasty, those who could read the winds and clouds were rare. Yet there was one who often said, "Tomorrow will bring fair weather."
As if struck by a thought, the maid spoke of Ye Chang Geng: "He lives not far from here, on Tongluo Street. It is a pity Your Highness cannot see him."
Gesang Meiduo snapped her head toward the maid. The bath water rippled sharply. Her phoenix eyes held a blade-like glint.
"Did I not say yesterday, if you meet Ye Chang Geng, show no mercy?"
The maid's smile vanished, replaced by solemnity. "Your Highness said so, and we remember well."
"That's enough," Gesang Meiduo pressed a bloodless hand on the tub's edge. "Remember this: though he saved me, helped me, he is our enemy—from the day he was born."
Just as she, from birth, had lived in the shadow of the Great Tang. Her brother had told her countless times, "To the east lies a nation, like a monstrous beast, like a demon, ready to swallow Tubo whole."
She etched these words into her heart.
At the court, when Ye Jiao reported the lost arm crossbows of the Northwest Army, the Zichen Hall fell into a chilling silence, as if frozen solid. Suspecting collective deafness, Ye Jiao repeated the report.
Better to finish quickly and return home for a nap, if possible.
Finally, someone reacted.
"Ridiculous!"
"Impossible!"
"If your Ministry of War lost the crossbows, don't blame others."
The first two remarks were mild, but the third enraged Minister of War Song Shoujie. Not wishing to lose face in a quarrel, he shot a stern glance at his subordinate, Jiang Min.
Jiang Min inhaled deeply, preparing to retort fiercely.
At that moment, the Crown Prince spoke, his voice solemn and authoritative, instantly quelling the hall's chaos.
"Is Master Ye saying that under my command, the Northwest Army lost the arm crossbows?"
Li Zhang rose from his throne, descended the steps deliberately, fixed his gaze on Ye Jiao, and enunciated each word.
He had learned of this yesterday. Having once led the army to repel Tubo and secure peace, this was the pivotal step that earned him the title of Crown Prince. He had not stopped Ye Jiao from submitting the memorial, wanting to see her courage and discern who stirred the winds of discord.
The sword was drawn; the hand gripping it was near.
"Yes," Ye Jiao replied, lowering her eyes slightly, bracing for Li Zhang's wrath. If scolded, she'd call on Jiang Min; if attacked, hide behind the Minister. If executed on the spot, she'd flee to the Emperor's chambers behind Zichen Hall.
After all, she was not alone at the Ministry of War—if punishment came, it would come for all.
To her surprise, Li Zhang remained calm. His expression unreadable, only a flicker of surprise crossed his eyes. Leisurely, he extended a slender arm to accept the memorial Ye Jiao held aloft.
Ye Jiao felt the weight lighten in her hands and, meeting Li Zhang's scrutinizing gaze, prepared for judgment.
"Master Ye is meticulous—I once witnessed this at the Jinwang Mansion," Li Zhang praised casually, appearing magnanimous.
He likely referred to the time Ye Jiao deceived him into writing a note, striking him yet escaping unscathed.
"Nevertheless, the loss of crossbows is a grave matter and a serious offense. I shall request the Court of Justice to investigate thoroughly."
His tone was gentle. For the first time, he looked Ye Jiao squarely under the watchful eyes of all.
He noted the myriad expressions of the courtiers: tension from the Ministry of War, worry from Liu Yan, hostility from Deputy Commander Yan Congzheng of the Imperial Guard.
But Li Zhang cared not. He studied Ye Jiao intently.
Her lips parted slightly, rosy and moist like a flower bud kissed by morning dew. Chin lifted, teeth white as pearls, her expression a blend of surprise and doubt.
He mused: surprised that he could feign such duplicity? Truly, Li Ce's protection had been thorough. Those raised in the Daming Palace knew well how to feign bravado and diplomacy. Fools.
"This is a matter of utmost importance," Li Zhang declared after observing Ye Jiao long enough, straightening and sweeping his gaze over the assembled ministers.
"After today's court session, Master Ye will accompany me to report to His Majesty."
Ye Jiao breathed a sigh of relief. As long as she was not alone with Li Zhang, it was manageable. Yet the Emperor was never easy to see.
After court, Li Zhang sent an attendant to notify the Emperor that he and Ye Jiao waited in a side hall.
Bored, Ye Jiao surveyed her surroundings. She recognized Ouyang Xun's calligraphy, Li Sixun's blue-green landscape paintings, admired the furniture and floor tiles—but why, in such a magnificent palace, were there no pastries or fruits?
Her stomach betrayed her with a loud rumble.
Rising early, she had eaten nothing, and now, near noon, hunger gnawed fiercely.
Just then, an attendant entered, reporting, "His Majesty is resting after acupuncture treatment. Chief Steward Gao suggests waiting for the Emperor to rise before your report."
"Very well," Li Zhang nodded lightly, turning a page of his book.
The attendant asked, "It grows late; may this servant bring a meal for Your Highness?"
Ye Jiao's eyes lit up.
The noon meal arrived swiftly—complexly prepared cold stewed lamb, homely roasted fish, and an array of meat, vegetable, and pastry dishes, filling the entire table.
Li Zhang could never finish it all.
Ye Jiao planned to stride over, take two dishes, and eat at the side to quell her hunger. Though seated at the dining table, Li Zhang remained absorbed in his book, unlikely to notice.
She stepped forward and easily selected two dishes.
Unexpectedly, as she lifted a plate, Li Zhang suddenly reached out and grasped the opposite end.
"Put it down," he said sternly.
Ye Jiao clutched the plate tighter, pulling it toward herself, bewildered. "Crown Prince, are you trying to starve me?"
"No need to sneak food away," Li Zhang set his book aside, speaking earnestly. "Dine together with me."
Not opposed to preventing starvation, Ye Jiao accepted sitting opposite him.
She reached for chopsticks, only to find the only pair in Li Zhang's hand.
Resigned, she rolled up her sleeves and prepared to seize a large bone—when something was brought straight to her lips.
The Crown Prince, using chopsticks, lifted a piece of tofu and offered it to Ye Jiao.
"Eat," he commanded.