Chapter 20: Provocation – Beating Around the Bush

The vermilion-lacquered gates gleamed coldly under the sunlight, while the copper bells at the eaves clanged in the wind. Two majestic stone lions sat symmetrically at the entrance to Dali Temple.

Yan Yiqing stood on the steps and looked up at the plaque above the door that read “Keen as Autumn Frost.” She pursed her lips, a faint, almost imperceptible cold smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Vice Minister Yan, this way please.” The clerk leading the way bowed deeply, though his gaze lingered on her involuntarily.

Yan Yiqing, the undefeated Anbei General and the new Vice Minister of Si Nong Temple. In just a few days, she would add yet another title: Heir Consort of Duke Rui.

Although Great Yong had other female officials,

they were all ceremonial positions, mostly related to rituals and prayers.

Like the woman before them, who had once fought on the battlefield and now held a rank of fourth-grade—no one else like her could be found throughout all of Great Yong.

That morning when she left home, Yan Yiqing had dressed up deliberately. The scarlet official robes accentuated her commanding presence, and the silver fish pouch hanging from her waistband swayed gently with her steps.

Her long, smooth black hair was pinned up impeccably.

A jade hairpin was inserted at an angle, adding a touch of sharpness to her otherwise plain elegance.

“It’s not that this official wants to make things difficult on purpose,” the clerk in charge of managing the archives swallowed hard, his face showing reluctance, “but anyone outside Dali Temple who wishes to access the records must have a handwritten order from the Vice Minister.”

“In that case,” her gaze swept over the rows of shelves behind him as Yan Yiqing asked gravely, “has your Vice Minister attended court today?”

The clerk who had led Yan Yiqing there immediately volunteered upon hearing this. “Our Vice Minister is currently in the office handling official business. If Vice Minister Yan doesn’t mind, this lowly one will lead the way?”

She glanced at him, then nodded slightly.

Knock knock. The clerk brought Yan Yiqing to the door of the office and knocked, saying respectfully, “Vice Minister, Vice Minister Yan of Si Nong Temple requests an audience.”

A sliver of light filtered through the window cracks into the room, outlining the floating dust. A large, heavy desk sat squarely in the center of the office.

Seated behind the desk, Zhao Huairen set down the records in her hand. “Come in.”

“Yes.” The clerk shot Yan Yiqing a fawning smile, pushed open the door, and said, “Then this lowly one won’t disturb Vice Minister Yan and the Vice Minister discussing official matters.”

“Thank you.” Yan Yiqing voiced her thanks but spared him not another glance.

Yan Yiqing stepped into the office.

As soon as she looked up, she met a pair of limpid phoenix eyes.

The light brown irises were even clearer than cold stones submerged in a stream. Separated by a few paces, Zhao Huairen asked indifferently, “Vice Minister Yan, what brings you to Dali Temple today?”

Yan Yiqing replied, “I heard you were ill.”

“Oh.” The scarlet robes made her skin appear even fairer as Zhao Huairen parted her thin lips lightly. “Just a common cold, nothing more… though that was several days ago.”

It had only been a polite remark to begin with.

Did she mean to imply that Yan Yiqing had come too late?

The scent of ink and paper lingered slowly in the air—a smell that should have calmed the mind—but Yan Yiqing’s brows furrowed tighter and tighter.

She didn’t like this Zhao Heir.

Every time she interacted with her, she felt utterly uncomfortable.

Her gaze lingered on Yan Yiqing’s face for a moment. Seeing that she remained silent, Zhao Huairen lowered her long lashes and picked up the records again as if no one else were there.

Her throat felt parched.

Yan Yiqing licked her lips, suddenly wanting to flee.

Remembering the purpose of her visit, her fingers hidden in her sleeve clenched quietly. She suppressed the urge to turn and run, and took the initiative. “I want to access Dali Temple’s records. I need your handwritten order.”

Her eyes focused intently on the records in her hand, Zhao Huairen picked up the purple brush from the holder and jotted down a few annotations on a sheet of letter paper nearby.

“If you’re unwilling to help, then pretend you never saw me.”

She had to flush out the snakes by beating the grass. The purpose of this visit was to let certain people know she was still investigating—the military payroll case from seven years ago.

As for whether she could actually see the records or not,

success was fine, failure inconsequential.

“Since Vice Minister Yan asks, how could I refuse?” Zhao Huairen chuckled lightly and raised her eyes. “It’s just that you weren’t willing to say so directly when you entered.”

“What?” Yan Yiqing asked instinctively.

Her fingers holding the records were fair as jade. Zhao Huairen glanced sidelong at Yan Yiqing without a trace, then withdrew her gaze and thought to herself: This way, whatever she needs in the future, she probably won’t beat around the bush anymore.

“I misunderstood,” Zhao Huairen closed the records and picked up a note from her left side. “When Vice Minister Yan first came in, I thought… you were really here to visit the sick.”

Zhao Huairen’s implication was clear.

She thought Yan Yiqing was hypocritical?

Yan Yiqing forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, stepped closer to the desk, and said coldly, “The Heir truly has a mind full of twists and turns—every word half-hidden, half-revealed. It sends chills down one’s spine.”

Why had she suddenly turned sharp-tongued?

Never mind…

Zhao Huairen pressed her lips together and handed over the note. “Vice Minister Yan is overthinking it.”

Looking at the calm, unruffled mask on her face,

an inexplicable displeasure welled up inside Yan Yiqing.

“Of course,” Yan Yiqing’s eyes flashed as she provoked, “after all, those without a suspicious mind have all ended up like Xu Shilang, haven’t they?”

The atmosphere suddenly grew tense.

But the chill passed in an instant.

“What happened to Xu Shilang?”

Yan Yiqing countered, “Doesn’t the Vice Minister know?”

After a moment of silence, Zhao Huairen said warmly, “During the days I was on leave, it seems many things happened at court.”

“Those to be exiled have been exiled, those to be beheaded have been beheaded. The position of Ministry of Revenue Vice Minister is vacant now—Minister Meng must be quite troubled these days.” Her fingertips tapped rhythmically on the edge of the desk, her eyes probing as Yan Yiqing stared into hers. “Speaking of which, Xu Yan was personally apprehended by the Vice Minister.”

She met Yan Yiqing’s scrutinizing gaze with perfect composure, her voice clear and smooth. “By Vice Minister Yan’s reasoning, don’t I deserve some credit for the Xuzhou Disaster Relief Silver Case too?”

“The Vice Minister’s contributions are undeniable.”

“It was merely my duty; Huai Jin dares not claim credit.” Her expression unchanged, Zhao Huairen extended the note further with a light flick of her wrist. “As long as Vice Minister Yan says the word, that will suffice.”

The woman’s unflappable demeanor shrouded Yan Yiqing’s dark pupils in a layer of mist. She clenched her fist in secret and frowned in thought:

What magic did Zhao Huaijin possess?

Why did she always lose her composure in her presence?

“Vice Minister Yan?”

Yan Yiqing snapped back at the call. Her brows knitted tightly as she reached out to take the note—their fingers brushed for an instant, sending a jolt like electricity through her fingertips.

The note slipped to the floor.

The elegant handwriting matched its owner perfectly.

Zhao Huairen had always admired clever, capable women. But she had to admit, Yan Yiqing was truly a bit odd.

She could clearly see through the game Zhao Huairen had laid out.

Yet sometimes, she seemed… foolish. Or was this a test…?

Seeing Yan Yiqing freeze in a daze once more, Zhao Huairen sighed silently, leaned down, and reached to pick up the fallen note for her.

As her scarlet robes shifted with the movement, Zhao Huairen lowered her head, inadvertently exposing a small section of her snowy white nape.

Fluffy stray hairs.

Her skin was very fair, her neck slender and beautiful.

Yan Yiqing’s thoughts drifted involuntarily, her brows twisting into a knot as a bizarre idea suddenly popped into her mind: Was Zhao Huaijin really a man?

“…” Zhao Huairen looked up to find her staring blankly again.

The first time she heard news of Yan Yiqing’s great victory over the Northern Di, Zhao Huairen had struggled to connect the grand general from the people’s tales with the little girl in her memories.

At Zhaixiang Tower, she had witnessed the triumphant return with her own eyes.

She felt things had changed with time; everyone was different from before.

But in this moment, she suddenly had an illusion.

Yan Yiqing was still like when they first met—the little civet cat in the wisteria tree, only now with the sharpest claws and the strangest temperament.

“Why do you smell of blood? Are you injured?”

How did she know?

A flicker of surprise passed through her eyes, but Zhao Huairen quietly suppressed her curiosity and explained calmly, “It’s nothing. Yesterday when I was resting at the inn, I accidentally slipped and fell.”

That scent couldn’t be from a mere fall.

From her years of experience in the military camps, it was more like the mark of a rod… or perhaps a whip?

But in this Yanjing,

who would dare lay hands on her?

Yan Yiqing took a small white porcelain medicine bottle from her pouch and placed it on the corner of the desk, her face stern. “This is a secret military remedy.”

“Thank you for your kindness, Vice Minister Yan, but it’s just a bruise—no need for—”

“You give me the note, I give you the medicine. We’re even.” Her words came faster suddenly as Yan Yiqing snatched the note from Zhao Huairen’s hand and strode out of the office without looking back.

She watched Yan Yiqing’s slightly flustered retreating figure.

Zhao Huairen picked up the medicine bottle from the desk corner and chuckled mutely.

Why was she running so fast?

As if afraid that Zhao Huairen might refuse her.