After leaving the Council Hall, the grandeur of the palace gradually gave way to a serene and refined elegance. Turning down a corridor and ascending over a dozen steps, a palace maid pushed open a set of ornate doors and bowed to Ye Jiao.
"Please change your garments here, Physician Ye. I shall have them dried and pressed, then return them to you."
Ye Jiao stepped inside. The windows and doors were tightly shut, and several intricately placed screens cleverly divided the space. On one side stood a luohan bed, a low table, and meditation cushions; on the other, an unlit brazier. Two garment racks flanked the furnace—clearly a place frequently used for drying clothes.
"Just beyond lies the Taiye Pool," the maid explained. "The noble ladies often play by the lake, and when their clothes are soaked, they come here to warm them."
Reassured, Ye Jiao removed her outer and middle garments, leaving only a thin inner robe. She moved a screen to shield her body and handed out her clothes.
"Please wait a moment, Physician Ye."
A slender hand reached in and took the garments. Soon, the fragrant scent of burning pine branches filled the air, coming from the beast-gold charcoal.
Ye Jiao waited quietly, holding the yellow cloth pouch in her hand. It felt heavy—not only because of the imperial token inside, but also the weight of her tangled thoughts.
Anyone qualified to serve in the Council Hall should be meticulous. That pot of tea should never have spilled over the desk. What was their motive? Her imperial token, inscribed with the words "As if in My Presence"?
She leaned close to the screen, peering through a narrow gap. The maid was tending to her clothes, but her fingers subtly probed the sleeves under the guise of straightening them. When nothing was found, she exchanged glances with the other maid, and the two began gesturing in secret.
Ye Jiao's heart raced and her body stiffened. Instinctively, she tightened her grip on the token. As Gao Fu had warned, the capital was far from safe. The Emperor had bestowed this token upon her with great meaning—yet even while he remained well, these people were already desperate enough to steal it?
What could the token do? A single command from the Emperor would nullify any misdeeds. Clearly, they intended to use it beyond the capital's reach.
Ye Jiao opened the pouch and examined its contents. It looked convincing—very much so. Initially, she had tried to chisel one herself, but it turned out uneven, so she made a mold and cast it in molten gold. Its size and thickness were identical to the real one.
Though her calligraphy was poor, she had etched the four characters again and again until they could pass for the original. She had worn her fingers raw with the engraving tools.
But no lock lasts a thousand days. Even if she escaped today, they'd come again with other means.
Her brother often reminded her to be vigilant. Li Ce, too, was a man of sharp insight. If they had been here, they would have set a trap—baiting the enemy to reveal themselves.
The maids clearly had another plan. One pulled out a small brown porcelain bottle, uncorked it, and pinched her nose. The other nodded and stepped back cautiously.
Ye Jiao was shocked. Was that a sedative? Here, in the grand Daming Palace, they would stoop to such base methods?
She stepped back, pinching her nose tightly.
"Move aside! My clothes are soaked."
Suddenly, a stranger's voice rang out. Though firm in tone, it was as clear and melodious as the pipa's softest notes—resonant and enchanting. He referred to himself as "ye," a manner used by imperial sons.
"Stop him, quickly," Ye Jiao called out.
The maids, startled, tried to block the newcomer.
"Your Highness the Sixth Prince, please wait in the side hall. There is someone inside."
Li Can—the Sixth Prince. Ye Jiao had glimpsed him from afar at a palace banquet. Slender and fair, with refined and handsome features, he often wore a snow-blue round-collared robe, a hue between blush and violet. Its softness once even drew rebuke from the Emperor.
Why was he here? Were they not only after her token, but also aiming to sully her name?
"My clothes—where are they?" Ye Jiao cried out in feigned panic. "Come help me dress quickly! I can't keep His Highness waiting outside in this cold. What if he falls ill?"
The maids rushed in, thrilled at the chance to proceed. The clothes were half-dry. Ye Jiao stretched out her arms, letting them dress her and carefully tie her sash. She placed the yellow pouch on the side table, feigning haste and carelessness, as if she had forgotten the precious token.
Soon dressed, she straightened her official hat and strode confidently to the door. But just as she was about to leave, a maid called out,
"Physician Ye, your belongings."
She turned back. The maid held the yellow pouch in both hands, offering it with a respectful bow.
Ye Jiao froze, her arm stiffly reaching out. A thousand thoughts raced through her mind.
They… didn't steal it?
She had deliberately left it there, hoping they would take the bait. Let them steal it—she wanted to see what they intended. After all, it was a fake. Let them stir up trouble if they dared.
"Physician Ye?"
The maid stepped closer, still holding the pouch out.
Ye Jiao quickly accepted it and nodded. "Let's go."
The palace doors opened. Outside, in the sunlight, stood a young man in a snow-blue robe, not yet ennobled, his clothing bearing only simple embroidery. A corner of his robe was damp, and he stood beneath a bamboo-handled umbrella, nodding at her with a faint smile.
Handsome and elegant, his bearing struck Ye Jiao with sudden force—as if Li Ce stood before her once more. They truly did resemble one another. Tall, slender, poised, with eyes fathomless and distant, and an expression of calm detachment.
Ye Jiao walked forward, sorrow unexpectedly welling in her chest. She missed Li Ce—so deeply she wanted to run to Jinzhou.
And yet, the maids had not taken the token. That surprised her.
Later, when she was alone in the Council Hall, Ye Jiao quietly took out the pouch and examined the token.
Heavy. Still the same one. But—
A chill pierced her body, blood rushing to her head. She flipped open the pouch and stared at the fuxi pattern etched on it, biting her lip to keep from crying out.
The weight hadn't changed, nor the size or calligraphy—except for the final stroke of the character "临," which was more graceful than the one she had carved.
If that slight difference was mere paranoia, then the embroidery on the pouch confirmed her fears. It wasn't her sister's work. It bore the unmistakable hand of the palace's master embroiderers.
Ye Rou had tried to mimic them before but never achieved this level of finesse.
So they didn't steal it—they replaced it. Swapped her fake for a better fake.
Heavens have mercy—hers was already a counterfeit!
In that moment, Ye Jiao didn't know whether to be terrified, furious, or simply laugh at the absurdity. Shaking her head, she put the token back into her sleeve and tried to steady her emotions.
She left the Daming Palace and returned home.
The Duke An's residence was as peaceful and warm as always. By lamplight, Ye Jiao unfurled a sheet of paper and instructed her maid, Shuiwen:
"Summon Lin Jing."
Her solemn expression left no room for delay.
Lin Jing lay hidden in a grassy patch by the official road outside the city. A straw hat shaded his eyes, yet he watched passersby through its narrow slits. Every so often, he whistled—and one of the nearby idlers would quietly tail a chosen traveler.
Since retrieving Wang Qianshan, Lin Jing had done nothing else. In his spare time, he had memorized the servants and guards of every noble house in the capital, and, with the silver Ye Jiao provided, recruited trustworthy spies.
He hadn't expected to put them to use so soon.
Six hours after the swap, standing by the campfire, Lin Jing confirmed the report.
"The Yellow River ferry crossing?"
"Yes, sir!" his subordinate replied. "They went east from the Yellow River crossing."
Donning his cloak and mounting his horse, Lin Jing called back,
"To the Yellow River crossing."