Chapter 55#
Set a Snare#
The Chief Minister of the Court of Judicature and Revision was keenly perceptive. The moment Chen Qiu died, he sent a messenger to inform Pei Dan.
At that time, Pei Dan had already been burning documents for a full day and night, yet the news still shocked him. The messenger reported that, on the day after Pei Dan’s visit, people from the palace had come to take Chen Qiu in for questioning, interrogating him alone for an entire night. By late in the second day, the jailer discovered Chen Qiu dead in his cell—face and limbs purple, body rigid. But regarding Chen Qiu’s death, no one dared blame the palace. Perhaps many would instead recall the beating Pei Dan had administered during his visit.
Pei Dan ordered Old Wu to send the messenger a full box of pearls. The man departed with a thousand thanks, and Old Wu walked him to the estate gate—yet he hesitated and stopped again. “Um… there’s one more thing, whether I should say it or not, I’m not sure… Lord Pei is so generous, I truly…”
Wu Zhiheng studied his expression and drew another pouch of money from his sleeve, gently placing it in the man’s arms.
“…Then I won’t beat around the bush any longer.” The man sighed, leaned in close, and whispered a few words into Wu Zhiheng’s ear.
Wu Zhiheng practically ran the entire way back. He finally found Pei Dan by the waterside pavilion, exhausted, bracing himself on his knees and panting—when he heard Pei Dan ask in a leisurely drawl, “What else did he tell you?”
“He said— he said—” Wu Zhiheng sucked in a cold breath, his throat aching, mist rising before his eyes. “When he left the office today, he ran into the judicial officer who had performed Chen Qiu’s autopsy, who was also being summoned to the palace by the Emperor. It seems—the Emperor intends to investigate Chen Qiu’s death in detail…”
“Investigate? What’s there to investigate? Until it leads to his own head?” Pei Dan laughed coldly. “The last person Chen Qiu saw before he died—naturally, that’s only me.”
In his arms, he cradled a rare, docile rabbit, one hand stroking back and forth along its ears of middling length. He wore a plain lun robe embroidered with subtle silver thread, a ring of snowy-white fur at the collar that trembled softly in the wind, cradling his proud neck and head.
On the pavilion, a bonfire burned. Amid the roaring flames, various documents converged—the crackle of fire, smoke billowing into the sky. Pei Dan casually tossed a wooden proclamation into the blaze, and the flames flared bright. The writing on the proclamation was bold and rugged, the seal impression splashed carelessly—the style of generals who spent their lives doing nothing but training in martial arts and waging war.
“—Are you saying the Emperor will frame you?” Wu Zhiheng asked worriedly.
“It’s hardly the first time.” Pei Dan’s voice was flat. “I just didn’t expect the Emperor to be so rushed—he wouldn’t even spare Chen Qiu.”
“Could it be that Chen Qiu was—”
The young Chancellor narrowed his cold eyes, fixing his gaze on the charcoal gradually charring in the fire. His jawline revealed a sharp outline—because he was clenching his teeth.
“Do you remember when Li first came here to find me? When he left, he happened to take Chen Qiu’s carriage. The moment he walked out my door, the Emperor arrived at the residence and made him kneel in the snow for two days and two nights.”
Wu Zhiheng couldn’t believe it. “Th-that means—Li had barely arrived in Chang’an before—”
“Chen Qiu and Feng Cheng were tribute envoys who arrived in Chang’an the same day as he did. Five days before provincial envoys enter the capital, they always send a rider galloping ahead to report to the Court of State Ceremonial so that preparations can be made to receive them. So who would accompany Li and grow close to him—everything is within the Emperor’s grasp.”
“But,” Wu Zhiheng hesitated, “if the Emperor was truly on such high alert regarding Li, why would he always put on that pretense of…”
“The Emperor didn’t actually have that many reservations about him. The one the Emperor was truly worried about was what I hold.” Gazing too long at the fire, Pei Dan finally lowered his head, gently rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Besides, at that time, Li… he genuinely didn’t wish to see me. The Emperor was certain of that, and that put him at ease.
“But now it’s different.”
He was, after all, a grown man now. He knew the taste of desire. He knew what it meant to hint and to probe. He knew the warmth and cold beneath the ice. Even if all of this—if it were the gift of those three years of marriage, rather than the lesson these five years of loneliness had taught him.
Wu Zhiheng suddenly understood. “Then I—I still told you to invite Li to the lantern festival. I truly am— aiya!”
“What wrong have you done?” Pei Dan glanced at him with a light smile. “He and I do have old feelings, unbreakable. The Emperor will learn of it sooner or later. Be it Heaven’s punishment or Heaven’s wrath—this Lantern Festival, I am determined to invite him.”
His voice was slightly hoarse, as if beneath the coldness lay the softest texture.
The pale sky hung low and dim. Between the chilly haze and withered grass, the firelight was sparse. Yet Wu Zhiheng felt as though the heat had made sweat pour from him—his spine beginning to turn cold. “You—you mean the Emperor is going to—will he—”
Pei Dan did not answer, which was tantamount to an admission.
“Then—then what about Hedong?” Wu Zhiheng racked his brain, anxiety churning in his thoughts. “Is there anyone there who might still speak a word for you?”
“Why do you think the Emperor waited patiently for two years, only to act with such ruthlessness now?” Pei Dan said. “Someone from Second Uncle’s branch has been impeached. They’re scared half to death, no doubt already made a full confession to the Emperor. Just you watch—if the imperial decree comes down within today, then the Hedong Pei clan has not a single decent person left.”
Wu Zhiheng said, “But what about Zhao—”
Pei Dan suddenly pressed a single finger to his lips, a sliver of cold light passing through his eyes.
Wu Zhiheng could say nothing more.
He guessed— he hoped— that his master had already made arrangements for everything, simply not letting him interfere. His master had been accustomed since childhood to facing every hardship alone. If anything, the fact that Pei Dan had come to him the night before to “seek a way out” might have been the only time in his entire life he had ever asked for help.
But his heart still felt hollow, as if he knew a crushing blow was about to land but couldn’t tell from which direction or with what force. All he could do was follow Pei Dan’s every movement with anxious eyes.
Yet Pei Dan abruptly turned and strode toward that solitary study.