After leaving the yamen, his coachman was already waiting outside. Wei Fu lifted the hem of his robe and stepped into the carriage. Just as he raised a corner of the curtain, he froze.
From within the carriage extended a hand wrapped in a leather bracer—long-fingered, well-defined at the joints, elegant yet strong. It even had the leisure to curl its fingers at him in a beckoning gesture.
No matter how beautiful it was, it certainly should not have appeared in what was supposed to be an empty carriage.
Seeing him hesitate, the coachman turned his head in confusion. Yet in the corner of his eye, he only caught a flash of crimson as Wei Fu darted inside. A dull thump sounded from within the carriage.
“What just flew in there? Young Master! Young Master, are you alright?”
Wei Fu: “…I’m fine. Let’s go.”
One hand braced against the carriage wall, Wei Fu loomed over the black-clad young man in a rather undignified posture. His sleeves swung down, brushing against the other’s nose and cheek. The man beneath him remained perfectly composed, looking up at him as though he had not just dragged Wei Fu inside moments ago, casually pushing his overly long sleeve aside.
The dim, swaying, slightly cramped carriage—and the faintly luminous pale hair, and his eyes.
Even in his dreams, Wei Fu would never have imagined such an absurd scene. After searching his mind for a long moment, he still could not find a proper way to greet him. One could hardly say something like, “Good morning, are you out committing theft again today?” The clear-headed composure he had displayed when dealing with He Qing Shang seemed to have turned into mush. Afraid of alerting the coachman, he lowered his voice to a whisper:
“What are you doing here?”
Pinned into the corner in such an imposing posture—especially with Wei Fu being taller than most—the other man showed no sign of wariness. Instead, lying back as he was, his stray hair fell aside, revealing handsome features rarely seen in the light. His expression was calm as he asked, almost teasingly:
“Are you going to stay like this?”
That faintly arrogant ease made one’s teeth itch just looking at it. A flicker of irritation rose in Wei Fu’s chest. Leaning closer, he pressed forward and fixed his gaze on the man’s eyes, speaking in a low voice:
“Your Highness had better answer my question first.”
“Isn’t the answer obvious?” Yu Gong Zhao Ye replied matter-of-factly. “I’m following you.”
Wei Fu: “……”
“Why are you following me?” His voice rose involuntarily before he quickly suppressed it again. “The Longsha delegation is entering the palace tonight for an audience. Your Highness still has time to follow me around?”
The carriage was small, and with his height, staying hunched like this quickly made his back ache. Wei Fu gritted his teeth inwardly, when Yu Gong Zhao Ye clicked his tongue lightly.
“Sit down. You’re blocking the light.”
Wei Fu thought, Even if I die of back pain today, I will not lose face. Just as he was about to refuse sternly, Yu Gong Zhao Ye suddenly hooked his foot and tripped him.
Caught off guard, Wei Fu lost his balance and pitched forward, about to crash straight onto him. In a panic, he reached out for something to steady himself. Yu Gong Zhao Ye caught his searching hand midair, pulled and guided him, then pressed his shoulder with his other hand, smoothly dissipating the force of the fall. Wei Fu spun half a turn in place and dropped solidly onto the seat.
Wei Fu: “……”
Yu Gong Zhao Ye glanced at him calmly, his expression practically saying don’t make a fuss, and then explained his actions with composure:
“I went to Han Shao’s residence earlier. There are several Egret Guards secretly protecting him—he seems well enough taken care of. Since I was already out, I thought I’d take a look and make sure you were safe as well.”
Wei Fu opened his mouth, wanting to say: I may be safe—but Xiling might not be.
The minister appointed to go to Longsha as the assisting regent was Attendant Official Han Shao, while the deputy envoy was Wei Fu. This list, which was meant to be announced at that night’s banquet, had now come out of Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s mouth—proof that Longsha’s informants had already infiltrated the imperial court. That Yu Gong Zhao Ye could come and go beneath the very noses of the Egret Guards, and that Wei Fu himself had been followed the entire way without noticing… in his eyes, the defenses of Fengdu were likely no better than paper.
Wei Fu drew a deep breath, steadying himself, reminding himself not to act rashly. As if reading his thoughts, Yu Gong Zhao Ye explained with disarming ease:
“Rest assured, I did not sneak into your emperor’s study. Your prime minister simply drank too much and let it slip.”
“…Much obliged for Your Highness’s concern, and my thanks for the reminder.” Wei Fu felt his temples throb, as though his very soul were being stretched thin. “Since when has Your Highness been following me?”
“Since yesterday, when you went out to Tongshi Pharmacy.” Yu Gong Zhao Ye found him rather interesting—clearly brimming with restrained anger, as if ready to bite at any moment, yet upon hearing a conciliatory tone, he still instinctively offered thanks. “I didn’t expect that Young Master Wei would also be so skilled in investigation. That Assistant Prefect was thoroughly guided by you—so long as he follows your line of reasoning, there will be no shortage of fish taking the bait.”
So he had been observing him in secret for two days. Wei Fu sighed. “I said that even if Your Highness did not speak truthfully, I would still find a way to uncover the case.”
“And I did not interfere, did I?” Yu Gong Zhao Ye replied calmly. “If anything, I was the one who was surprised.”
A case he had merely stumbled upon, with only the slightest suspicion—and yet this refined civil official had personally gone to the scene, questioned witnesses, and even, after grasping the general outline, taken the initiative to visit the prefectural office and guide the investigating official through the logic. If every minister in Xiling were like this, then Mu Heng unifying the realm would be only a matter of time.
“Why did you suspect Xu Shi Fu was a follower of the Ten Aspects Sect? As far as I know, the Ten Aspects Sect is not particularly prominent in Xiling—most people would not think in that direction. Yet you seem particularly attentive to it.”
“A malignant tumor is something everyone has a duty to eradicate—there’s nothing more to say.” Wei Fu countered, “Besides, the reason I thought along those lines—wasn’t it because Your Highness appeared in that courtyard without explanation?”
Yu Gong Zhao Ye met his gaze. After a few silent breaths, he suddenly smiled, the expression carrying a hint of amusement. He likely did not smile often; his eyes remained cold, only the corner of his lips lifting perfunctorily, lending him a faintly dangerous, almost wicked air.
“I only said you were ‘attentive,’ not that you ‘hated’ it. Besides, I am merely an idle prince. Having just arrived in your land, it is only natural to stroll about and take a look. How, then, can Young Master Wei be so certain that something is amiss in that pharmacy?”
Wei Fu: “……”
For the third time, he found himself at a loss for words. At last, he understood—Yu Gong Zhao Ye had come today intent on getting to the bottom of things. If he did not speak plainly, the man would keep pressing until he got a satisfactory answer.
“I know you are an assassin of ‘Bihua’, and I know that ‘Bihua’ is still operating in secret.”
He sighed faintly in reluctant concession, spreading his hands. “But Your Highness—if you had not insisted on pressing the matter, I could have pretended to know nothing at all.”
“Fortunately, I did ask.”
The short dagger slid against his throat like a silent, icy serpent.
“After all, you know far too much, Young Master Wei.”
Yu Gong Zhao Ye moved far too quickly—Wei Fu had neither the time nor the ability to evade. He merely furrowed his brows, studying him with suspicion.
“Let’s be honest,” Yu Gong Zhao Ye said courteously, as though negotiating, “when did you find out—and where have we met before?”
“Are you going to kill me?” Wei Fu lowered his eyes to the hand holding the blade.
“That depends on your answer.” Yu Gong Zhao Ye tapped lightly at his neck with the flat of the blade. “Given the current situation, I would prefer not to cause too much trouble in Fengdu. But once you arrive in Longsha, things will be much easier.”
“Oh,” Wei Fu said. “Then you can go ahead and guess.”
Yu Gong Zhao Ye: ?
As the saying goes, “the soft fear the hard, the hard fear the ruthless, and the ruthless fear those who don’t fear death”. Yu Gong Zhao Ye had encountered uncooperative opponents before—but someone like Wei Fu, who simply smashed the pot and stopped caring altogether, was truly rare. In the brief moment he was taken aback, Wei Fu seized his wrist and, frowning, asked:
“There’s a smell of blood in the carriage—are you injured?”
Was his nose that of a hound spirit come to life?
Yu Gong Zhao Ye sniffed the air, catching only a faint, bitterly fragrant scent of gentian incense, likely drifting from Wei Fu because they were standing so close. “Why can’t I smell it?”
“That’s because you’ve already been marinated in it,” Wei Fu said, seemingly oblivious to the blade still at his throat as he pulled him over and inspected him front and back. At last, he wiped across his upper left arm and came away with a smear of fresh blood.
“It’s seeped through?” Yu Gong Zhao Ye glanced at the blood in his palm, then turned to look at his black sleeve, calm as if casually marking something as ‘read’. “It’s nothing. It’ll dry soon.”
Wei Fu had held back as long as he could, but now he was truly irritated—so much so he nearly slapped him outright, forgetting even to lower his voice:
“Wait for it to dry? Why don’t you wait for the King of Hell to come bandage it for you himself?”
“It’s a minor wound.” Yu Gong Zhao Ye was unconcerned. “Aren’t you going to wipe your hand? It’ll be harder to clean once it dries.”
“With that kind of leisure, you’d do better to worry about yourself, Your Highness,” Wei Fu snapped coldly. “You know your arm is injured and you’re still yanking people around—do you think your limbs are indestructible?”
Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s temperament could only be described as closer to donkeys, dogs, and certain stubborn rocks than to normal people. Even gentle concern might not move him—let alone barbed sarcasm like this.
Yet this time, unexpectedly, he did not argue back.
He watched in silence as Wei Fu grabbed his left arm, swiftly removed the leather bracer, and rolled up the layers of sleeves. Only when the wound was about to be exposed did he snap back to himself, pressing down on Wei Fu’s hand in disbelief:
“What are you doing?”
Wei Fu didn’t respond, not even lifting his eyes. He brushed his hand aside without ceremony and peeled back the blood-soaked bandage beneath, revealing the dark, gruesome fresh wound. He sucked in a quiet breath.
“This is what you call a minor wound?”
Yu Gong Zhao Ye, perhaps startled by his sudden forcefulness, gave a dry, “Ah.”
Clearly, that answer did not satisfy Young Master Wei. With a bang, Wei Fu yanked open the small drawer in the carriage, pulled out two spare white silk handkerchiefs, and rummaged noisily through a pile of bottles until he found a thick-bodied white porcelain bottle sealed with red.
“What’s that?” Yu Gong Zhao Ye asked.
Wei Fu replied curtly, “Golden Wound Medicine.”
A noble-born young master like him likely had never even witnessed the slaughter of a chicken or fish, much less a bloodied injury like this. Yu Gong Zhao Ye had no idea where he found the courage or kindness—his brows knit tight enough to crush a mosquito, yet he still insisted on removing the old bandage.
The cut was about three cun long, and deep. The surrounding flesh was slightly swollen. A thin scab had already formed, but thanks to someone’s reckless movements, it had split open again, blood spilling out as if it cost nothing.
Elio’s Notes: (3 cun) ≈ 10 cm (about 4 inches)
Wei Fu pressed a clean cloth against the wound to stop the bleeding. Even done gently, it should have hurt—but Yu Gong Zhao Ye didn’t so much as flinch, instead asking with curiosity:
“You usually carry medicine on you?”
“In case of emergencies. See? It came in handy,” Wei Fu said, handing him the bottle to unstopper. “If you’re out in the wild and get hurt without medicine, then you can only…”
He suddenly cut himself off, as if regretting his words.
“Only what?” Yu Gong Zhao Ye asked.
Wei Fu lifted his gaze and shot him a quiet look. For some reason, there was something hard to describe in it—something faintly resentful, almost as if saying “just you wait.” It left Yu Gong Zhao Ye inexplicably unsettled, as though he had unknowingly played the part of some heartless scoundrel.
Without mercy, Wei Fu dumped a generous amount of medicine onto the wound and said irritably:
“Then you can only grab a handful of dirt and slap it on.”
Yu Gong Zhao Ye: “……”
What exactly was he angry about?
The medicine was excellent—within moments, the bleeding stopped. Wei Fu rewrapped the wound with clean silk, lowered the sleeve, and helped him fasten the bracer again.
“Who injured you? The wound is fresh—within the past two days… did you get into a fight in Fengdu?”
Yu Gong Zhao Ye had already given up resisting and let him fuss. Wei Fu’s head was slightly lowered; watching his clean, focused profile, something stirred in Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s heart—like still water disturbed after years by a passing spring breeze, a long-forgotten familiarity awakening.
When he didn’t answer, Wei Fu glanced up at him. “Was it the person who met Xu Shi Fu that night at Tongshi Pharmacy?”
Yu Gong Zhao Ye’s gaze drifted toward the carriage roof.
Wei Fu tightened the final clasp on the bracer, smoothed the folds of his sleeve, and restored him to his original neat appearance. Letting out a soft breath, he suddenly asked:
“The case of the silk merchant Song Man in Xianglian City—his assassination, and the fires at his residence and estate… that was the work of ‘Bihua’ as well, wasn’t it?”
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