Yuelai stood at the edge of the crowd, her mind racing through impossible options.
She had found the silver—or at least, she was almost certain she had. Those heavy chests hidden beneath silk and ceremony, being smuggled out under the cover of a wedding celebration. It was brilliant in its audacity, and she could prove it. But there was one critical problem: she had no authority.
Not as Wei Ling, daughter of General Wei. Not as some random person watching a wedding procession. And certainly not as Yuelai, the woman who wasn't supposed to exist in the capital at all.
She couldn't wait for Wei Ling to deliver the letter and for Prince Zhenge to act. The wedding procession would depart any minute now, and once those carts passed through the city gates, the evidence would be gone. Scattered to distant estates, hidden in the countryside, impossible to trace back to Minister Xiao.
She had to do something. Now.
Her eyes tracked a guard leaving the Minister's residence, carrying what appeared to be the final box to be added to the dowry carts. He moved with the resigned efficiency of someone completing the last task of a long day, heading toward a side entrance to retrieve one final item.
Yuelai didn't think. She just moved.
Following at a safe distance, she slipped through the same entrance the guard had used. The corridor inside was mercifully empty—most of the household staff were occupied with the wedding preparations. She tracked the guard to a storage room near the back of the residence, watching as he picked up a ornately wrapped box from a shelf.
The room was empty otherwise. Everyone was focused on the courtyard, on the procession, on the spectacle.
It was now or never.
Yuelai moved with the silent precision of her years of training. The guard never heard her approach. Her hand struck the pressure point at the side of his neck with controlled force—enough to render him unconscious but not to cause lasting harm. He crumpled, and she caught him, lowering him quietly to the floor behind a stack of crates.
Her shoulder screamed in protest at the movement, but she gritted her teeth and ignored it. There would be time for pain later.
Quickly, she stripped off his outer uniform—the distinctive red and gold livery of Minister Xiao's household guards. It was slightly too large for her frame, but in the chaos of the wedding preparations, no one would look too closely. She bound her hair tightly, tucking it under the guard's cap, and positioned herself to hide the feminine curve of her jaw.
Footsteps echoed in the corridor. Multiple people, moving quickly.
Yuelai grabbed the ornate box the guard had been carrying and turned toward the door just as it burst open.
Two more guards stood in the doorway, their faces impatient. "Is this the last box? Hurry up—we need to depart!"
Yuelai kept her face down, her voice low and gruff. "Yes. The last one."
Neither guard looked at her closely. They were focused on their task, on completing their duties and getting the procession moving. Yuelai followed them out, the box heavy in her arms, her heart pounding beneath the stolen uniform.
She was inside now. Part of the procession itself. Close enough to the evidence to act when the moment came.
She just hoped Wei Ling had reached Prince Zhenge in time.
Wei Ling stood outside Prince Zhenge's palace, her lungs burning from running, her hair disheveled from her desperate rush through the streets. The palace guard at the entrance looked at her with barely concealed annoyance.
"Please," she gasped, holding out the sealed letter with trembling hands. "This is urgent. It's for Prince Zhenge. You have to give it to him immediately!"
The guard's expression didn't change. "The Prince is not here. He left for the Emperor's chambers. If it's truly important, you can wait for his return."
"Can't you just deliver it to him?" Wei Ling's voice rose with desperation. "This can't wait—it's about—"
"No," the guard said flatly. "I cannot leave my post. If you wish to wait, wait. Otherwise, come back later."
Wei Ling stared at him, frustration and worry warring in her chest. Yuelai was out there alone, injured, about to do something dangerous. Every minute that passed was another minute her cousin was at risk. But the guard's face was stone, unmoved by her pleading.
She had no choice. She would have to wait.
Wei Ling sank down onto a stone bench near the entrance, clutching the letter like a lifeline, and prayed that Yuelai could stay safe just a little longer.
Inside the Emperor's private chambers, the atmosphere was one of deceptive calm.
The room was elegant in its simplicity—no excessive gold or ornamentation, just refined taste and understated power. Afternoon light filtered through paper screens, casting gentle shadows across the go board where two figures sat in apparent leisure.
Emperor Luo Jinhai was a man in his fifties, his beard showing the first threads of silver, his eyes sharp as a hawk's despite the relaxed set of his shoulders. He studied the go board with the same intensity he brought to matters of state, his fingers hovering over a white stone.
Across from him, Prince Zhenge made his move with quiet confidence, placing a black stone in a position that seemed defensive but held deeper implications.
The Emperor smiled slightly, making his own move. "So," he said, his tone conversational, "how is it going with the missing silver case?"
Prince Zhenge paused in the act of reaching for his tea cup.
He set it down carefully before answering. "The Inspector, Wei Han, has found the culprit, Your Majesty. The Vice Minister of Revenue was arrested two days ago."
"I was informed." The Emperor's smile turned cunning, predatory. "He is really quite good at investigating, isn't he? This Wei Han. They say he also came up with the brilliant strategy during the Longman War. Quite impressive for one so young." He paused, his eyes never leaving the board. "But unfortunately, he is the son of that Wei Qiang."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.
Prince Zhenge said nothing, waiting. His father never mentioned General Wei without purpose.
"Whether he will be able to find those funds and stay alive and loyal..." the Emperor continued, placing another stone with deliberate precision, "...will decide if he is really useful or not. What do you say, Zhenge?"
It was a trap. Prince Zhenge recognized it immediately. Every word his father spoke carried multiple meanings, testing, probing.
"As Your Majesty deems fit," he replied neutrally.
The Emperor looked up from the board, his gaze sharp and penetrating. "What do you think about him? Is he loyal or not? Answer carefully, Zhenge. After all, it will decide whether he lives or not."
This is a test, Prince Zhenge thought, his mind racing beneath a calm exterior. Father is trying to determine where my loyalties lie. General Wei Qiang has yet to choose which prince to support, and I have no military power of my own yet. Unlike my brothers.
Unlike Prince Zhenwei, who had returned from war with his own battle-hardened army, loyal to him personally. Unlike his third brother, Prince Luo Minghao, who had the Prime Minister's faction supporting his claim to the throne.
Prince Zhenge was the designated heir, but in the deadly game of imperial succession, that designation meant nothing without power to back it.
He chose his words with surgical precision. "We will soon find out whether he chooses to live and take Prime Minister Xiao's side, or rather die loyal as a military inspector, Your Majesty."
The Emperor laughed—a sound without real warmth. He studied his son's face, searching for something. "And what if he finds those funds?"
Prince Zhenge had been about to place his next stone. His hand stopped midway, hovering over the board. Then he looked up, meeting his father's eyes directly, and smiled.
"Then he will pass your test, won't he, Your Majesty?"
For a long moment, the Emperor held his gaze. Then he laughed again, this time with genuine amusement, and made his next move on the board.
"Look. You lose, Zhenge."
Prince Zhenge glanced down at the go board. His father was right—the game was over. The white stones had surrounded his black ones in a pattern he should have seen coming five moves ago. He'd been too focused on the conversation to see the trap on the board.
"It appears so, Your Majesty," he said evenly, setting down his stone. "Now, if you will allow me to leave?"
The Emperor waved a hand dismissively, already turning his attention to other matters. "Go. But remember what we discussed. Loyalty is everything, Zhenge. Make sure you know where yours truly lies."
"I will never forget, Father."
Prince Zhenge rose, bowed with perfect formality, and left the Emperor's chambers. Only when he was outside in the corridor, the door closed behind him, did he allow the tension to leave his shoulders.
That had been dangerously close to a declaration of suspicion. His father was watching him, watching Wei Han, watching everyone connected to General Wei. One wrong move, and the Emperor would decide that the Wei family was too powerful, too dangerous to live.
He needed to be very careful about how he handled whatever Wei Han had discovered.
Outside the palace entrance, Wei Ling had been waiting for what felt like hours but had probably only been twenty minutes. Her anxiety had crystallized into a hard knot in her stomach.
Every minute that passed was another minute Yuelai was alone, in danger.
"Xiaoyu!"
Wei Ling jerked upright, startled by the familiar voice. She turned to see Princess Yanran walking toward her, accompanied by Prince Zhenwei. The princess's face was bright with friendly surprise.
Wei Ling scrambled to her feet and bowed. "Your Highness."
"What are you doing here?" Yanran asked, looking around curiously. "And where is Wei Ling?"
Wei Ling's mind raced. "I'm not here with her, Your Highness. I came for Wei Han's work—official business."
"Wei Han?" Princess Yanran's eyes lit up with interest. "You mean Wei Ling's cousin, the Military Inspector? Is he with you? Where is he? They say he's incredibly handsome—even more handsome than Brother Zhenwei!"
Wei Ling nearly choked. "Who... who told you that, Your Highness?"
"Everyone!" Yanran laughed. "He's the most talked-about person in the capital right now! Everyone is praising him for his brilliant strategies and good looks. It's become quite the popular game—people are even betting on who is more handsome, comparing him with all three princes!"
Wei Ling stood frozen, completely unprepared for this information. Yuelai—the real Wei Han—was apparently the subject of capital-wide gossip about being devastatingly handsome?
Princess Yanran glanced at Prince Zhenwei, who stood nearby with an expression of complete disinterest. "Don't worry, Brother," she said reassuringly. "I don't think he's more handsome than you. And certainly not more than Brother Zhenge.
But then again, he is Wei Ling's brother, and they say the siblings look alike. Wei Ling is really beautiful, so maybe he has some hope of living up to the rumors." She smiled. "Though I'm sure he can't possibly be as handsome as Brother Zhenge."
Prince Zhenwei's expression shifted slightly—the faintest hint of amusement. "Are you saying Prince Zhenge is more handsome than me?"
Yanran laughed openly. "Yes!"
"Looks like Wei Han has really become the hot topic of the capital," a new voice said from behind them, "if even you are discussing him, Yanran."
Wei Ling spun around.
Prince Zhenge stood at the palace entrance, having just emerged from the interior. His expression was composed, but his eyes held sharp intelligence as he took in the scene before him.
"Your Highness!" Wei Ling rushed forward, relief flooding through her. Finally! She extended the sealed letter toward him with both hands. "This is from Wei Han. It's urgent."
Prince Zhenge took the letter, his expression growing serious. He broke the seal and unfolded the paper, his eyes moving quickly across the calligraphy.
Wei Ling watched his face anxiously. She couldn't read what Yuelai had written, but she knew it was important—crucial, even.
As Zhenge read, something changed in his expression. His eyes sharpened, focusing with intensity. A slow smile spread across his face—not a friendly smile, but the dangerous smile of someone who had just been handed a winning hand in a high-stakes game.
It was a look that made Wei Ling simultaneously relieved and concerned.
Prince Zhenwei, standing nearby with his sister, noticed the change immediately. His brother rarely showed such obvious reaction to anything. Something significant was happening, and Zhenge was involved.
Just what is going on? Zhenwei thought, his eyes narrowing slightly. Zhenge rarely involved himself directly in Censorate investigations. He preferred to work through intermediaries, to maintain distance from anything that might become politically dangerous.
But this... this was different.
Prince Zhenge looked up from the letter, directly at Wei Ling.
"Let's go. This is urgent."
Wei Ling bowed hastily to Princess Yanran. "I'm sorry, Your Highness. I have to leave. This is very important."
"Of course!" Yanran waved her hand. "Go, go! Though you must tell Wei Ling to visit me soon. I want to see her again!"
"I will, Your Highness. Thank you!"
Wei Ling turned to follow Prince Zhenge, who was already striding toward the palace gates with purpose.
"Brother," Princess Yanran called out as Prince Zhenwei started to turn away, "what do you think that was about?"
Zhenwei didn't answer. His mind was already working through the pieces he had. Instead, he gestured to one of his personal guards, who immediately stepped forward.
"Did you keep watch on Wei Ling as I ordered?" Zhenwei asked quietly, his voice too low for his sister to hear.
"Yes, Your Highness," the guard replied. "She stopped the palace carriage halfway to the Qingfeng residence. She went into a shop—a stationer's—where she and her companion purchased paper and ink. She wrote something, sealed it, and handed it to her cousin. Then they separated."
"Wei ling wrote it?" Zhenwei's eyes narrowed. "Not Wei Han himself?"
"No, Your Highness. It was definitely the wei ling who wrote the letter."
"And after they separated? Where did the wei ling go?"
The guard's expression grew troubled. "That's the strange part, Your Highness. We lost her trace almost immediately. It was as if she disappeared into the crowd near Minister Xiao's residence."
Prince Zhenwei went very still. "Minister Xiao's residence. You're certain?"
"Yes, Your Highness. She was there one moment, watching the wedding preparations, and then... gone. We searched but couldn't find any sign of her."
Minister Xiao, Zhenwei thought. The same minister who ordered the assassination attempt on Wei Han. The same minister whose daughter is getting married today. And now Wei Ling—or whoever that woman really is—has disappeared near his residence, and Zhenge has just received an urgent letter about something important enough to make him react visibly.
"Wei Han is investigating the missing treasury funds case," Zhenwei said slowly, more to himself than to his guard. "Is this somehow connected to that investigation?"
The guard remained silent, knowing the question was rhetorical.
Prince Zhenwei's expression hardened with decision. "Keep watch on both siblings—Wei Han and Wei Ling. I want to know everywhere they go, everyone they meet. And inform me immediately."
"As you command, Your Highness."
As the guard departed, Princess Yanran tugged on her brother's sleeve. "Brother? Is something wrong? You look very serious."
Zhenwei looked down at his sister and forced his expression to soften. "Nothing for you to worry about, Yanran. Just some business I need to attend to. Come, let's get you back to your chambers."
But as he escorted his sister away, his mind continued to work through the puzzle. The pieces were all there—he could feel it. The assassination attempt, the missing treasury silver, Minister Xiao, the mysterious woman who moved like a warrior and disappeared like a ghost, and now his brother Zhenge personally getting involved.
Something was about to happen. Something significant.
And Prince Zhenwei intended to discover exactly what it was.
Prince Zhenge's carriage raced through the capital streets, moving with a speed that made other travelers scatter. Wei Ling sat inside, gripping the edge of the seat to keep from being thrown about as they took corners at dangerous speeds.
"Your Highness," she ventured nervously, "may I ask what the letter said?"
Zhenge looked at her, his expression unreadable. Then he handed her the letter.
Wei Ling unfolded it with trembling hands and read:
Your Highness,
Money and jewels are transported openly during celebrations—no one questions them. Instead, they offer congratulations.
Who knows if they are what we are looking for.
Time is critical. The procession will leave within the hour.
- Wei Han, Military Inspector
Wei Ling looked up, her eyes wide. "She figured it out. She actually figured out how they were doing it."
"She did more than that," Zhenge said quietly. His eyes held a mixture of respect and concern. "If this is true—if we find that silver in Minister Xiao's daughter's wedding procession—this won't just be about treasury theft. This will be political warfare of the highest order."
"Political warfare?"
"Minister Xiao is the younger brother of Prime Minister Xiao.
The Prime Minister controls half the court officials and has the backing of his sister, Prince Minghao's mother. If we expose Minister Xiao publicly, we're not just arresting a corrupt official. We're declaring war on the Prime Minister's entire faction."
Wei Ling felt ice settle in her stomach. "Then... should we not do it?"
Zhenge smiled—that same dangerous smile from before.
"Oh, we're absolutely doing it. I've been waiting for an opportunity like this for years. The Prime Minister has become too powerful, too comfortable. He thinks he's untouchable. This will remind him that no one is above the law—not even his family."
He leaned forward slightly. "But I need to know—can Wei Han prove this? Is she absolutely certain?"
Wei Ling thought about her cousin, about the intensity in Yuelai's eyes when she'd handed over that letter. About the way she'd risked everything, again and again, to uncover the truth.
"Yes," she said with absolute confidence. "She's certain. And she'll prove it."
Prince Zhenge nodded slowly. "Then let's go catch ourselves a corrupt minister."
The carriage sped on toward the city gates, where a wedding procession was about to become the site of the capital's most explosive scandal in decades.
And somewhere in that procession, disguised as a guard, Yuelai waited for everything to fall into place.
END OF CHAPTER 18