Chapter 20

The Second Princess had orchestrated it all to seize the Imperial Merchant Co-sponsorship Right. She dispatched her own agents to sabotage Dali Temple, plunging it into chaos so it would lack the resources to oversee those affairs.

Upon learning that Temple Deputy Fu was paranoid and prone to violence, she instructed Second Master Fu to frame Madam Fu. Rumors flew that Second Master Fu and Madam Fu were entangled in an affair, naturally infuriating Temple Deputy Fu. Unable to confront his brother, he took out his rage on his wife instead. That sparked the tragedy that followed.

What a grand scheme.

“The Imperial Merchant title can go to her. I don’t want it anyway.”

Tao Chuyi chimed in right after. “Exactly! We don’t want it!”

Nangong Yunshang pursed her lips lightly and tugged Chuyi’s ear, pulling her close. “How do you pop up everywhere?”

Tao Chuyi yelped in pain but kept right on shoveling food into her mouth, busy as could be.

Zhao Linglong watched their playful exchange with a relieved smile. She had worried that the supposed fool would be a handful, that the princess might suffer for it. But now, it was clear everything lay firmly within the Third Princess’s grasp.

“Fu Mansion has been sealed off, and Temple Deputy Fu awaits execution. The entire Fu family is finished. What will become of that poor girl?” Zhao Linglong couldn’t help asking.

When it came to Fu Yueer, Dali Temple already had plans in place. The girl had grown up around case reports at the temple and dreamed of becoming a coroner. So Tao Siqing had apprenticed her to Miss Xu. In time, Dali Temple would gain another skilled coroner.

Zhao Linglong nodded slowly upon hearing this. “Excellent. That girl is brave and clever—fine material indeed. It’s the best outcome she could hope for.”

They finished their dinner at Star Moon Tower, and the carriage from Princess Mansion rolled steadily into the distance. Zhao Linglong lingered by the window, gazing out until it vanished into the evening mist.

“Who says a hall swallow can’t enter court politics?”

“Past swallows… court politics!”

Startled, Zhao Linglong whirled around to find Tao Chuyi standing right behind her, striking the exact same pose.

“Prince Consort, why are you still here?”

“Your Highness the Princess left the Prince Consort behind,” Tao Chuyi said calmly.

Zhao Linglong hesitated. “…Perhaps this official should summon a carriage to take the Prince Consort home.”

Tao Chuyi shook her head. “The Prince Consort can walk back.”

“Walk all the way? That sounds exhausting.”

Before Zhao Linglong could make the arrangements, she glanced back—and the Prince Consort had vanished.

“Hurry! Send word to Princess Mansion at once. The Prince Consort is missing!”

General Zhao’s men spurred their horses in a frantic gallop toward Princess Mansion. Meanwhile, the missing Prince Consort chased a shadowy figure through the darkening streets.

The faster the shadow darted, the faster Tao Chuyi pursued. Unable to shake off the pursuit, the shadows halted abruptly and wheeled around to charge straight at Tao Chuyi.

The Princess Mansion carriage halted abruptly midway. Nangong Yunshang lifted the curtain. “Where is the Prince Consort?”

Her attendants shook their heads, insisting they had no idea.

Nangong Yunshang frowned. “Back to Star Moon Tower!”

In her tipsy haze from those extra cups of wine, she had been helped aboard and accidentally left someone behind.

The carriage whipped around and raced back. As it passed a vermilion-lacquered pavilion, a chill wind carried the metallic tang of blood.

Yinghong gasped in alarm. “Princess, there’s a pile of corpses ahead!”

Nangong Yunshang leaped from the carriage at once, brushing off all protests as she advanced. Blood pooled across the ground, and black-clad assassins lay sprawled one after another, every last one lifeless.

Amid the heap of bodies and gore sat one more figure.

Tao Chuyi was drenched in blood and slumped helplessly on the ground. Spotting the newcomers, Tao Chuyi burst into wails.

“Your Highness the Princess! Waaah!”

“Tao Chuyi?”

Nangong Yunshang recoiled in shock, stepping carefully over the corpses without a thought for the blood staining her skirts.

“Are you hurt? Can you stand? Someone, come quickly!”

Tao Chuyi blinked through tear-filled eyes, her disheveled form radiating vulnerability.

“Your Highness the Princess… is the Prince Consort dying?”

“Nonsense.”

Nangong Yunshang hesitated to touch her, unsure where all that blood had come from and terrified of aggravating a wound.

“Here, let me help you up. See if you can stand.”

Yinghong hurried over to assist, but even together they struggled to budge Tao Chuyi. They panted with exhaustion, slick with sweat despite the early winter chill.

Tao Chuyi pouted but held back her tears. With a little effort, Tao Chuyi rose to her feet, moving about normally.

“My legs went numb.”

Nangong Yunshang paused. “…”

Words failed her, but with no injuries, relief washed away any urge to scold.

Tao Chuyi was soon escorted back to Princess Mansion. The guards cleared away the black-clad corpses and dispatched them to Dali Temple for examination.

Xichan attended to Tao Chuyi’s bath and fresh change of clothes, carefully inspecting for wounds along the way. Only after confirming none existed did Xichan exhale in relief.

Now in clean attire, Tao Chuyi perched obediently on the couch, voice quivering. “Xichan, is the Prince Consort going to die?”

Xichan gently dried Tao Chuyi’s hair. “No, Young Master is perfectly fine.”

Tao Chuyi’s eyes remained red-rimmed. “But so much blood…”

“That wasn’t Young Master’s blood. The assassins’ blood simply splashed onto Young Master.”

Xichan explained with endless patience.

“Oh.”

Tao Chuyi shed the pitiful expression and perked up at once.

By then, Nangong Yunshang entered the room. Barely three steps inside, the accusations began.

“Your Highness the Princess left the Prince Consort behind.”

Caught at the threshold, Nangong Yunshang cleared her throat. “My mistake—it won’t happen again. So where was the Prince Consort when we departed?”

Tao Chuyi tilted her head in thought. “Hiding under the table. No one noticed. Pretty impressive, right?”

Nangong Yunshang’s grip tightened on the table’s edge until her knuckles whitened, though her smile held steady. In light of the recent peril, she let it slide.

Black-clad assailants had appeared from nowhere, fixated inexplicably on the Prince Consort, only to perish just as mysteriously. It defied all reason.

One fact stood clear: all twenty-seven assassins had come for Nangong Yunshang.

In a tone reserved for coaxing children, Nangong Yunshang asked, “Prince Consort, besides the assassins, what else did you see? Anyone nearby?”

Tao Chuyi waved her hands as if struck by intermittent amnesia. “Black clothes. Swords. Blood.”

Had some wandering martial expert happened by, slain the assassins with superior swordplay, and saved Tao Chuyi?

Nangong Yunshang puzzled over it when a guard announced from outside that Tao Siqing had come to visit Princess Mansion in the dead of night.

Before the report finished, Tao Siqing burst in, propriety forgotten for the first time as he rushed to Tao Chuyi.

“My child! Oh, my child, you’ve endured so much. No need to fear—Daddy’s here now.”

Tao Chuyi promptly dissolved into tears. “Daddy!”

“If anything had happened to you, how could your father go on living?”

The father and son embraced in wrenching sobs, a deeply moving scene.

Moving indeed. Nangong Yunshang shot them a glance before turning to claim a chair and sip her tea.

She set down her cup, her voice drifting over cold and clear.

“Tao Siqing, any leads on the assassins’ origins?”

Silence fell at once. The profoundly touching father and son pair dried up instantly—no tears in sight, all thunder and no rain.

Tao Siqing straightened his robes and offered a belated bow. “This minister was remiss. I beg the princess’s forgiveness.”