The first year of the Zhongyuan era, twenty-third day of the first month.
The snow in Chang'an had stopped, but the sky remained cold. Charcoal fires burned in the workshop; over a dozen rolls of bamboo slips—case files of Li Yan—were spread across the workbench. I sat before the desk, my fingers pressing on a roll of silk book, having stared at it for a full hour.
I was not reading the characters; I was examining the silk.
This roll of silk book was the "evidence" sent by the Commandant of Justice's office—the secret letter proving Li Yan's collusion with the Xiongnu. Last time, I identified the silk as Lu Gao, not the material a Governor of Hedong should use. But when Liu Che took this to the Commandant of Justice, they replied: Li Yan embezzled funds during his tenure in Hedong; using Lu Gao to write the letter precisely proves his extravagance and greed, filling his own pockets.
It made sense. But I didn't believe it.
I picked up the silk roll again, holding it against the light. Warp threads, weft threads, density, weaving method—they all matched the characteristics of Lu Gao in my memory. But there was one detail I had missed last time.
The edge of this silk.
Han Dynasty silk fabrics had a standard width. When a bolt of silk was woven, it had woven borders on both sides. When cut for clothes or letters, the cut edges were neat. But the edge of this silk roll—it wasn't cut; it was torn. The edges were frayed, the fibers uneven.
I leaned closer, examining the frayed edges carefully under the candlelight. Between the broken fibers, there were extremely faint dark traces—as if soaked by something, then dried. I gently scraped it with my fingernail and brought it to my nose to smell.
It was rouge.
Not ordinary rouge. The rouge in the Han Palace was made from safflower, carrying a faint grassy scent. But this smell was stronger, mixed with the fishy odor of grease—it was Hu Rouge mixed with lanolin, sold only by Hu merchants in Chang'an's West Market. The palace did not use this kind. But in the Princess's residence? That was not certain.
Who would tear a piece of Lu Gao to write a secret letter?
Unless this piece of silk was torn from a finished product. Clothes, curtains, a wrapping cloth—someone casually tore off a piece, wrote this letter on it. While tearing, rouge on their fingers smeared onto the edge of the silk.
"What are you looking at?"
Liu Che's voice came from the doorway. I looked up; he walked in, holding a bowl of hot soup, which he placed on the workbench. He had been coming every day recently; sometimes bringing case files, sometimes food. Today, he brought soup.
"Looking at that silk book." I took it and drank a sip. It was mutton soup, very fresh. The bowl wall was still scalding hot; he had carried it all the way here, his fingers turned red from the heat. "Your Highness, I found something new."
"What?"
I pointed out the frayed edges and the trace of rouge on the silk. "This silk wasn't cut from a whole bolt; it was torn. The person who tore it had rouge on their hands, which smeared onto the edge. Not palace rouge, but Hu Rouge sold by merchants in the West Market."
He took it, examining it closely. "Hu Rouge... There are indeed several Hu servants in the Princess's residence."
"So the person who wrote this letter might not be someone from Li Yan's side. But someone who could access Li Yan's handwriting and private seal, yet is not an official themselves—a servant in the Princess's residence, or a merchant who frequently visits the Princess's府."
He was silent for a moment, then pushed the soup bowl toward me. "I haven't touched it yet. Drink the soup first; it will get fishy if it cools."
I lowered my head to drink the soup. He sat down opposite me, picked up the silk roll, and repeatedly examined the frayed edges and that almost invisible trace of rouge.
"Lu Xingye," he suddenly said, "do you know how many servants are in the Princess's residence?"
"No."
"Over three hundred," he said. "From the butler to the stable boy, from the cook to the embroiderer. If the person who forged the secret letter is one of them, investigating is like finding a needle in a haystack."
"Then start by investigating those who could access Li Yan's handwriting and private seal," I said. "Li Yan sends money to the Princess every year; through whom is it sent? Who handles it? Who keeps the accounts? Only these people could obtain his private seal and letters. And—"
I paused.
"And what?"
"And, the person who could obtain Hu Rouge would not be the lowest-level servant in the Princess's residence. Hu Rouge isn't cheap; ordinary maids can't afford it. It could be a close attendant of the Princess, or—the Princess herself."
He looked at me, a light in his eyes I couldn't quite describe. "How did you think of these things?"
"I thought of them while repairing things," I said. "When an object breaks, not all fragments are important. Some are edges, some are the core. Find the core fragments first, and the others will naturally fall into place."
"Then what are the core fragments of this case?"
I thought for a moment. "Who wants Li Yan dead the most."
He said nothing. His finger slowly traced a circle along the rim of the bowl, his fingertip rubbing the rough surface of the pottery.
"If Li Yan dies, who benefits?" I continued. "For the Princess—one less person who knows about her selling of offices and titles. For the Imperial Censor who impeached him—the merit of a major case. For the Xiongnu—one less border governor. For—"
"For the Prince of Liang," he suddenly said.
I froze.
"If Li Yan's case blows up and involves the Princess, Empress Dowager Dou will definitely intervene," his voice was low, as if talking to himself. "The Prince of Liang is Empress Dowager Dou's youngest son; he has always wanted to replace me. If this marriage alliance shows cracks and the Princess no longer supports me—Empress Dowager Dou will push the Prince of Liang forward."
"Your Highness thinks the Prince of Liang is pushing this case from behind?"
"It's not impossible." He put down the bowl. "Li Yan's case occurred in Hedong Commandery; the Prince of Liang's fiefdom is right next to Hedong. His hand can reach in. The Imperial Censor who impeached Li Yan might be the Prince of Liang's man."
When he mentioned Empress Dowager Dou, his voice unconsciously lowered. Not anger, but something more complex—a fear of that grandmother sitting in Changle Palace, suppressed for too long.
"Your Highness," I said, "if it really is the Prince of Liang—"
"Then we must investigate." He raised his head, looking at me. "Father gave me this case to see if I dare to investigate. If I stop because I fear Empress Dowager Dou, then I will only be an obedient puppet for the rest of my life."
When he said the word "puppet," his voice was light, but each word seemed squeezed out from between his teeth.
"Your Highness," I held his hand, "I will help you. No matter who is involved."
He grasped my hand in return. His palm was very hot, his fingertips slightly cool.
"Good," he said. "Let's investigate together."
He stood up and walked to the door. He stopped, without turning around.
"Did you finish the soup?"
I glanced at the bowl. Half remained, now cold. "Not yet."
"Finish it. You are too thin."
Then he left.
I lifted the bowl and drank the cooled mutton soup sip by sip. The soup was cold, the fishy taste strong, but I drank it cleanly.
Putting down the bowl, I picked up the silk roll again. The frayed edges were clearly visible under the candlelight; that trace of rouge looked like a dark red star. The person who tore this silk was in a hurry. The cross-section of the frayed edges was uneven; they tore halfway, stopped, then exerted force again—indicating that the person was extremely panicked at the time, their hands shaking.
It might have been their first time doing such a thing.
I noted this down.
Outside the window, snow began to fall again. Very fine, dense, like salt.
In the first month of the first year of Zhongyuan, snow fell in Chang'an time and time again. And Liu Che and I, sitting under the candlelight of the workshop, were piecing together that shattered mirror bit by bit.
The puzzle was getting bigger. But the core fragments were slowly falling into place.
[End of Chapter 16]