On the way to the Kaifeng Prefecture, Xie Yu kept pondering: when Fan Shixi and Xu Maocai served in Liangzhou, their official ranks had never exceeded that of county magistrate, meaning they held low positions and wielded little influence, insufficient to sway the imperial court. So what roles could they possibly play in the Battle of Liangzhou?
Previously, the blood-stained banner carried by Fan Shixi clearly accused him of “forgetting gratitude and betraying righteousness”—whose gratitude had he forgotten, and what righteousness had he betrayed?
Moreover, after the great battle of Liangzhou, Fan and Xu were rapidly promoted, jumping two ranks and four grades at once, successively becoming prefects. Their meteoric rise was undeniably swift.
If this hypothesis proved correct, then who had recommended them? The recommender must be the hidden hand behind the scenes—or at least one of them.
Yet after the late emperor’s death, their previously smooth path to advancement was suddenly obstructed, clearly indicating they were not favored by the current emperor.
Fan Shixi requested retirement at around age fifty, still in his prime by officialdom standards, without suffering any serious illness. Why did he withdraw early?
Had his patron fallen from power, making him realize there was no further advancement under the current emperor?
Or had he sensed some potential threat and fled accordingly?
As for Xu Maocai, after leaving Liangzhou to serve as a prefect, he maneuvered persistently until finally reaching the imperial capital, demonstrating no small amount of painstaking effort.
Yet despite all this, he ultimately died while still in office as prefect.
Xie Yu’s fingers rhythmically tapped the reins as his mind raced calculations.
Based on this analysis, Fan and Xu’s patron—or rather, their hidden mastermind—was likely a high-ranking official who dominated court affairs during the late emperor’s final years but suddenly fell out of favor and withdrew after the current emperor ascended the throne.
Thinking this far, he couldn’t wait to return and compile a list.
Approaching the entrance of Kaifeng Prefecture, a guard saluted him with a bow, “Minister Xie!”
Xie Yu dismounted, his official boots landing firmly. At that moment, suddenly recalling a detail he should have noticed much earlier:
If someone truly held power during the Tianwu reign, did the late emperor know about it?
At the time of the late emperor’s death, Xie Yu had still been quite young, vaguely remembering how his imperial grandfather’s temperament drastically changed in old age, which only increased Xie Yu’s aversion to the palace.
Perhaps it was the torment of illness, perhaps fear of death, or perhaps insatiable greed for power that made the late emperor irritable and suspicious.
Even Princess Ningde, once doted upon like a pearl in his palm, was sternly rebuked because her consort Xie Xian, newly arrived at court at the time, repeatedly dared to offer blunt remonstrance. Their father-daughter relationship repeatedly teetered on the brink of complete rupture, with Princess Ningde even publicly refusing to attend the New Year’s Eve palace banquet…
Could such a sensitive, suspicious monarch at the end of his life really have been kept in the dark about court movements?
Unraveling secrets was like untangling a ball of thread—once a loose end was pulled, thoughts ran like wild horses, uncontrollable and unrestrained.
In Xie Yu’s mind, it was as if dozens of fireworks simultaneously exploded, countless memory fragments and subsequent guesses overwhelming him to the point of near dizziness…
If indeed that were the case, it was understandable why his mother had refused to reveal the truth herself.
As the saying goes, a child does not speak ill of his father—even if the late emperor had momentarily lost his way, his affection for Princess Ningde had been genuine.
Even on his deathbed, he briefly regained his former wisdom and summoned his beloved daughter one last time. It was said that father and daughter wept bitterly in each other’s arms, achieving complete reconciliation. Disregarding his illness, the emperor even personally drafted an edict, granting her and her consort noble titles that would endure for three generations without interruption.
He was an emperor, and also a father. In Princess Ningde’s heart, her memories of him must have been extremely complex.
Seeing Xie Yu standing motionless, Yuanpei stepped forward and said, “Minister?”
The torrent of thoughts, like tired birds summoned home, quickly receded back into his mind.
Xie Yu slowly closed his eyes, “I’m fine.”
Seeing he didn’t wish to elaborate, Yuanpei didn’t press further, merely saying, “You’ve been extremely exhausted these past few days. You really should rest properly, or the Princess and her consort will worry.”
Xie Yu paid no attention to his words, walking inward while resuming his thoughts.
First Fan Shixi, then Xu Maocai—who would be next?
If it was indeed her doing, she certainly wouldn’t stop here.
But… walking by the riverbank often enough, one is bound to get their feet wet. Kaifeng was no ordinary place—its many watchful eyes and tight security made mistakes highly likely.
Xie Yu frowned slightly.
If only he hadn’t invited her to come to Kaifeng with him that day.
No, wait—he immediately rejected this thought.
Even without his invitation, the facts wouldn’t change much. Perhaps one day in the future, they would still cross paths somewhere in the city as strangers.
Remaining strangers.
Thinking this way, perhaps the current situation was still better.
“Where is Miss Ma?” Suddenly wanting to see her, Xie Yu asked a passing officer.
“Eh, Miss Ma went to the Baihu Lou,” the officer replied readily.
Xie Yu: “…”
All those complicated feelings seemed to stop abruptly with those few words.
Hmph, to a pleasure house.
Turns out I worried for nothing!
Seeing Xie Yu’s expression darken, Yuanpei immediately asked, “Didn’t we finish the case already? What does she need to go there for?”
There weren’t even male courtesans at Baihu Lou—what could she possibly be doing there?
The officer scrunched up his face, “I didn’t ask either, just heard from others. Oh, she seemed to be carrying a medicine chest when she left—maybe she’s doing charity medical work?”
Yuanpei relaxed, immediately turning to explain to Xie Yu, “You heard that, right Minister? Ma Bing isn’t that kind of person. Didn’t she mention someone was sick before? Must be going for a follow-up check!”
Xie Yu’s expression miraculously improved, though he remained silent, merely grunting before heading straight to his study without looking back.
Who cares what kind of person she is anyway!
Left behind, Yuanpei and the officer exchanged helpless glances.
What exactly did that mean? He was unhappy with explanations, and equally unhappy without them.
So hard to please!
At Baihu Lou…
“Do you still feel pain?” Ma Bing asked the young girl lying in bed.
Her name was Puc’ao, the younger sister whose rescue Zhang Baoyue had previously sought. About the same age as Yuan Yuan, yet their life experiences were as different as sky and mud.
Puc’ao was practically skin and bones, her small face gaunt and sallow, yet her two eyes remained bright and pure, like lakes shimmering under afternoon sunlight.
“Thank you, sir. It doesn’t hurt much anymore,” she trembled slightly, “I can never repay your life-saving grace, only hope to return your kindness in the next life…”
“Don’t say such useless things,” Ma Bing stroked her straw-like long hair. With one quick motion, a strand of short hair appeared in her palm. “Rest well, you’ll recover soon.”
She quickly tried hiding the hair strand, but Puc’ao had already seen it.
The little girl smiled faintly, her pale lips almost cracking into blood, “Don’t hide it, sir. I saw it already… Will I really get better?”
“Of course you will!” Zhang Baoyue entered carrying a steaming bowl of chicken soup, scooping a spoonful and gently blowing on it, “This is a physician who treats nobility. Our encounter is a blessing from countless lifetimes. Haven’t you already improved these past few days?”
“Big sister, you drink it. Such a delicacy shouldn’t be wasted on me.” Puc’ao gently shook her head, her eyes appearing especially large due to her thinness, gazing innocently at her. Hearing the words, she even showed a pure smile, “Yes, I really am very fortunate.”
A little girl sold into a pleasure house at age five, nearly killed by a customer—just because someone treated her illness, she could joyfully say, “I really am very fortunate.”
Zhang Baoyue’s eyes stung, barely holding back tears. She quickly turned her head away, trying hard to compose herself before finally facing back with red-rimmed eyes, “Drink it. Once you drink it, you’ll recover.”
After finishing the soup, Puc’ao grew sleepy. Ma Bing and Zhang Baoyue tiptoed out quietly, finally allowing themselves to breathe deeply.
“Minister, will Puc’ao really recover?” Zhang Baoyue tightly gripped Ma Bing’s hand, her voice trembling.
Ma Bing looked down at her hand—her knuckles had turned white, both arms shaking.
Gently patting her hand, Ma Bing smiled, “She will recover.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
After repeatedly confirming, Zhang Baoyue’s body suddenly weakened, nearly collapsing.
She was truly afraid—afraid that Ma Bing’s words were just lies.
Ma Bing understood her feelings.
But she really hadn’t lied.
Actually, Puc’ao’s condition wasn’t particularly severe. It had simply worsened due to lack of timely treatment. Now that Ma Bing had administered strong medicine to control it, as long as careful recuperation and consistent medication continued for some time, the illness would basically not recur.
But… in such an environment, could she really recuperate properly without further harm?
Regaining her composure, Zhang Baoyue’s eyes regained their former luster, once again resembling the graceful courtesan of old.
She ordered a banquet of food and wine, personally pouring tea and wine for Ma Bing, massaging her shoulders and arms, saying softly, “Your deep kindness and friendship leaves me at a loss for how to repay.”
Shaking her head with a faint smile, Ma Bing said, “I’m not used to you flattering me like this.”
She hadn’t come here seeking Zhang Baoyue’s beauty, naturally reluctant to see her behave this way.
Zhang Baoyue was startled, then covered her mouth, giggling as she lazily returned to sit opposite Ma Bing, helping herself to more dishes.
“The food is ordered from outside, not dirty. Minister, please enjoy more. This sliced raw fish is especially fresh—the fish were just caught and killed. This plum wine from Fang’s Liquor House is their signature brew, fragrant with plum blossom aroma, pure and smooth without harming one’s health.”
Indeed following her suggestion, Ma Bing first took a sip of plum wine, then picked up some fish.
The fish slices were extremely thin—when lifted with chopsticks, one could see the outline of the person opposite. The pale red flesh was distinct, like a piece of beautiful jade.
As expected, it tasted fresh and tender without fishy odor, instead carrying a faint sweetness.
“Life is so bitter. Have you never considered buying your freedom?” After several rounds of wine, Ma Bing asked.
Zhang Baoyue leaned on her hand, replying indifferently, “What in this world isn’t bitter? We were taught from childhood only how to serve others. Even if we leave, what else can we do? Even after regaining free status, our records remain. When socializing normally, it might not matter, but when it comes to marriage or legitimate business, one look at those records reveals everything.”
Zhang Baoyue’s pipa skills were so outstanding that many overlooked her beautiful voice.
When someone spoke of such bitterness in such a melodious tone, even a stone man would be moved.
Ma Bing played with the medicinal plum candies in her bowl, watching the reddish-brown spheres spin around inside. Several times they reached the rim, seemingly freedom within reach, yet the moment she loosened her grip, they would “plop” back down.
“What if you changed your household registration?” Ma Bing suddenly murmured softly.
This brief sentence caused complete silence in the private room.
Zhang Baoyue froze, her eyes only seeing those medicinal plums struggling helplessly under Ma Bing’s hand.
Yet the next moment, she saw Ma Bing flick her wrist—two plums suddenly flew up, swiftly clearing the bowl’s rim, landing on the table and rolling around.
Change household registration…
Zhang Baoyue’s heart pounded violently, “Is that… possible?”
If they could change their household records, then she and Puc’ao would become entirely new people, no longer needing to wait five years before redeeming themselves.
At the right moment, they could simply run away!
Then, the sky would be wide and the sea vast—where couldn’t they go?
As for making a living, she had saved quite a bit over these years—even if she couldn’t take it all, what livelihood could possibly be harder than drinking companionship, selling smiles, and fawning flattery?
None. They could learn!
As long as they could leave here!
Zhang Baoyue had never felt her heartbeat so clearly before. Some impulse in her chest struggled wildly, seeming ready to burst from her body at any moment.
She took a deep breath, “Minister, what can I do for you?”
Ma Bing blinked, then smiled with her chin resting on her hand just like Zhang Baoyue had moments ago, like a curious child, “How about, tell me some scandalous love affairs of high officials that no one else knows?”
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