That night, after returning to the manor, the Princess eagerly relayed the exciting good news to her Prince Consort, only to be clingingly pestered for half the night by Pei Rusong, who used the excuse, “Wuwuwu, it’s so scary, if I fall asleep I’ll have a nightmare and wake up frightened.”

On this matter alone, Wen Chan adhered to the principle of “lying down wherever you fall,” because she truly could not get back up. She was attentively helped with her washing by her Prince Consort and laid down in the fluffy, soft brocade mattress. With her eyes half-closed, she cultivated a sense of sleepiness and said casually, “With your experience and talent, winning Father Emperor’s favor should be a piece of cake. The next time you have an audience with him, he’ll probably grant you an official post. Have you thought about what you want to do?”

Pei Rusong was silent for a rare moment, then forced a smile. “Does Your Highness want to talk about this right before bed?”

The moment Wen Chan heard his tone, she knew something was off. She opened one eye. “What do you mean? You’ve been well-behaved for a few days, and now you finally can’t help but start acting up?”

Pei Rusong: “...”

“Traditionally, when a Prince Consort is granted a post, military officials are usually given command of the Imperial Guard, while civil officials generally enter the Nine Courts and Five Directorates,” he said in a low voice. “Although my father is the Left Imperial Secretary of the Department of State Affairs, this time, I want to enter the Central Secretariat directly.”

Wen Chan clapped for him. “How ambitious. Is my Prince Consort aiming straight for the Palace Secretariat, Lord Yuan Shuye? That old fox isn’t easy to deal with, you know.”

In their past life, everyone was crossing the river by feeling the stones. No one had expected Yuan Shuye to be so cunning and calculating. He openly supported the Prince of Jin while secretly backing the Prince of Yue, framing the Crown Prince. This led to Pei Luan and other key ministers being found guilty and demoted. Wen Chan then moved to suppress the Prince of Jin's faction, allowing the Prince of Yue to be the fisherman who profits. In the end, he turned his spearhead directly on the Princess, ultimately causing her to die in a mountain temple.

“Just as Your Highness said, now that we know which choice is the wrong one, we should take a direct approach and walk down the correct path without wavering.” Pei Rusong reached out to hug her, as if speaking to her, but also as if persuading himself. “Even if the road ahead is difficult, as long as we succeed, it will be worth it.”

His words were subtle, but Wen Chan understood his selfish intentions better than anyone. Because she had died at the hands of Yuan Shuye and the Prince of Yue in their past life, Pei Rusong had probably decided that if he could get rid of Yuan Shuye first, the Prince of Yue would lose his support, and he could save her in this life.

Wen Chan crooked a finger and hooked it under his chin, as casually as scratching a cat. “Actually, I don’t have very high expectations for my Prince Consort’s official position. After all, your beautiful face alone surpasses most people’s. As long as you don’t do anything wicked, you can do as you please. It doesn’t even matter if you want to be a Little White Flower.”

Pei Rusong: “...”

“But in my heart, I know very well that you are not a flower to be raised in a golden basin.” Wen Chan laughed. “You look like a flower, but you are actually snow—the kind that can freeze people to death when it turns cold.”

“Although I said we should walk the righteous path, perhaps everyone’s ‘correct path’ is not the same. So I can’t guarantee you’ll succeed, but still, go ahead and do what you must.”

The rest of her words vanished between their suddenly sealed lips, while a thought resonated in both their hearts.

“I will protect you.”

In the prison of the Capital Prefecture, inside the morgue.

Han Yan, the Vice Minister of the Court of Judicial Review, covered his face with a cloth scarf, wrapped his hands in fine linen, and held bamboo tweezers and a lens, carefully examining the assassin’s corpse on the table. A jailer held a lamp for him, turning his head away with a mixture of admiration and disgust—the weather was growing warmer, and the body had been stored for several days, already showing signs of decay. The stench was truly unbearable, yet a young master like Han Yan, who was exquisite from the strands of his hair to his fingernails, could actually handle the filth and personally inspect the corpse. Such professionalism was truly admirable.

Of the ten assassins, all but one survivor had either been killed or had committed suicide. The living one was not for Han Yan to interrogate personally, so he could only work on the bodies.

This group of assassins clearly knew they were on a one-way trip, and they had erased all clues that might reveal their identities before making their move. Whether it was marks on their bodies or the clothes and documents they carried, there were very few distinguishing features. What could be discerned so far was that these people had lean and powerful physiques, rough skin, and hands and feet covered in calluses. They could be mountain bandits, hunters, refugees, escaped convicts, or military households.

The sabers and arrows they used were all self-made, with no markings. Their accents were said to be a mishmash of different origins. The residence where they had set up the ambush in Changle District had been vacated by its owners two or three years ago, leaving a pair of servants, a father and son, to watch the house. When it was later investigated, both were found murdered, their bodies hidden in a water vat.

Changle District was adjacent to the East Market, a place where all sorts of people, good and bad, gathered. That group had posed as merchants from out of town to enter. Even if they had attracted any attention, it would have been extremely limited. The person who planned the conspiracy from behind the scenes was as slippery as a loach.

After a long and fruitless search, Han Yan straightened up and let out a resigned sigh. He gestured for the jailer to take the lamp away. As he untied his face covering and walked out, he suddenly stepped on something round and rolling. It seemed like a small stone, but it was more brittle, and it crumbled with a crunch under his weight.

Han Yan: “Hmm? What’s this?”

He crouched down, and the jailer eagerly held the lamp to illuminate the area for him. On the green stone floor tiles was a pile of yellowish-brown crumbs. Han Yan carefully scooped them up with a piece of paper. “Did you bring this in?”

The jailer quickly defended himself. “My lord, you must understand, outsiders are rarely allowed into the morgue. Since the incident, only the coroner has been here once to examine the bodies. No one else has come.”

“Search everywhere and see if you can find anything similar,” Han Yan ordered. “It might have fallen from one of the bodies.”

They turned the morgue upside down and finally found half of one in the hidden compartment of an assassin’s belt. Han Yan placed it under the lamp, took out an extremely precious lens polished from a single piece of crystal, and examined it from all angles for a long time. Finally, he looked up and asked the jailer, “Do you smell a peculiar scent?”

The jailer shook his head blankly, thinking, 'Lord Han couldn't possibly have a dog's nose, could he? The stench of corpses in this room is enough to pickle a person. Who else but him could smell anything else?'

Han Yan couldn't count on others, but he wasn't discouraged. He continued to concentrate, using the bamboo tweezers to pick through the pile of crumbs he had crushed. He finally plucked out a black particle the size of a tiny ant and carefully placed it on another piece of paper. Seeing the fine beads of sweat on his forehead, the jailer was about to offer a flattering “My lord, you’ve worked hard,” when he saw Han Yan wrap up the three pieces of evidence one by one. His eyes shone as if sparking. He shot to his feet and rushed out of the morgue without a backward glance.

The jailer: “...”

“So what was the smell in the end?”

Nine days after the incident, in the Prince Consort's Manor, Pei Rusong poured a cup of wine for Han Yan, who had snuck in for a visit like a thief in the dead of night. He urged him to reveal the answer quickly and stop embellishing how he had perceived the tiniest details and discovered the crucial clue where no one else had noticed.

Wen Chan listened with great interest, chiming in to praise Han Yan from time to time. “Vice Minister Han is truly meticulous and sharp-eyed. It is a great fortune that this case has fallen into Lord Han’s hands.”

“Your Highness flatters me. I am merely a little more perceptive than the average person. It is enough to be able to contribute in my small way.” Han Yan took a sip of wine and said leisurely under Pei Rusong’s glare, which was as sharp as an ice blade, “At first, I thought it was a clod of earth, but I suddenly caught a whiff of a pungent, aromatic scent from it, like the smell of Sichuan peppercorn. So I guessed it might be some kind of incense pellet. Because of its uniqueness, it might help determine the assassins’ identities.”

“I asked the physicians of the Imperial Medical Bureau for help in identifying it. After searching through countless medical texts, a medical artisan finally recognized it. Its name is ‘Dixiangzi.’ It tastes sweet and pungent, similar to pepper and musk, and has the effects of dispelling wind and releasing the exterior, resolving phlegm and stopping coughs, and strengthening the spleen to aid digestion.”

Pei Rusong: “So it wasn’t an incense pellet, but a medicinal pill?”

Han Yan held up a finger and wagged it before his eyes. “That medical artisan was able to recognize this item not because he was exceptionally learned, but because in his hometown there is a folk remedy called the ‘Thousand-Mile Pill.’ It is made by kneading well water, wheat flour, Dixiangzi, and salt into a dough, dividing it into small pellets, and then stir-frying it with a unique local white clay.”

“Before the local people set out on a long journey, their families would make some ‘Thousand-Mile Pill’ for them to eat on the road. It is said to treat an inability to acclimatize to a new place.”

To knead the water and soil of one’s hometown into a handful and carry it with them, allowing one to travel a hundred miles with peace of mind. However, this food, which carried wishes of safety and blessings, had ultimately become the evidence of their deaths in a foreign land.

What kind of mood were these assassins in, knowing they were on a journey of no return, when they accepted the Thousand-Mile Pill made by their families, and then, carrying bows and sharp blades, traveled a thousand miles to the Capital City?

Wen Chan let out a soft sigh. Pei Rusong also poured her a small cup of wine. The three of them raised their cups in silence and drank the mellow wine in one go.

“The medical artisan’s origin, the place that produces that white clay, where is it?”

Wen Chan finally asked the most crucial question, which was also the reason why Han Yan had come in the dead of night to leak the information to these two people who were not supposed to know.

Han Yan’s thin lips moved slightly. “Tangshan Commandery, Huawen County.”

The hand with which Pei Rusong held his cup trembled violently. Han Yan immediately looked at him sharply.

“Vice Minister Han has worked tirelessly on this case, and it was not easy to track down this crucial clue. This case will perhaps end here, but my Prince Consort and I will keep this favor in our hearts.” Wen Chan placed the silver cup on the small table, her expression unchanged, and said gently, “It’s late. Vice Minister, please be careful on your way back.”

Han Yan was suddenly stunned and asked, “What do you mean by ‘end here’? Does Your Highness already know who the mastermind is?”

Wen Chan made a shushing gesture and did not answer. She said to Pei Rusong, “Prince Consort, please see Vice Minister Han out for me. In the future, if Vice Minister Han needs anything, please do not be a stranger. Feel free to ask Xuechen.”

She had made the final decision. After speaking, she stood up, gave a slight nod to Han Yan, and left the flower hall first.

Utterly confused, Han Yan looked at Pei Rusong, only to find that his expression could almost be described as grim.

“What kind of riddle are you playing at with me?” Han Yan was exasperated. “We’ve investigated this far, with the Crown Prince presiding, the Prince of Yue assisting, and The Three Judicial Offices in a state of chaos. You say it’s over just like that? Will that pass with His Majesty? And what’s with your face? Do I owe you money?”

Pei Rusong looked at him quietly, and after a moment of silence, he said, “Let’s put it this way: if someone threw a stone at you during your wedding, and the authorities investigated and found that the stone came from my family’s pond, who do you think wants to harm you?”

Han Yan: “...The bastard who found out the stone came from your house.”

He was, after all, from a family of officials and instantly understood Pei Rusong’s roundabout meaning. A stone from the Pei Family would not only fail to incriminate the Pei Family, but would instead trigger a more terrifying power struggle. Why would a high-ranking official of the first grade assassinate a mere Vice Minister like him? Was someone trying to frame him, or deliberately muddying the waters? The person in charge of the case would dare not offend the Pei Family, nor could they afford to offend the Han Family. Thus, the person who discovered this crucial clue would not be a hero, but a sinner.

But...

He looked at Pei Rusong, and for a moment, he really wanted to ask him why, based solely on the location of Tangshan Commandery, Huawen County, he dared to conclude that the mastermind must be someone they couldn't afford to offend. But Pei Rusong avoided his gaze, patted his shoulder, and sighed, “Brother Han, the future is long. You don’t want to be a bastard, do you?”