BY THE TIME Shen Jue had escorted Wei De to the Liuli Gate, the sky was completely dark, and stars hung high above. Xiao Yan knelt by the carriage; stepping on his knee, Wei De climbed inside.
Even the Eastern Depot's second-in-command was nothing more than a stepping stone for Wei De.
A procession of agents followed Wei De's carriage as it departed. Shen Jue's eyes darkened as he adjusted his robes and hat, then made his way along the path back to the inner palace. Since he'd been busy making a report in the duty room, he hadn't yet eaten. He hadn't seen Xiahou Lian since he left the Fourth Qianxi Courtyard many days ago. Tomorrow was the fifteenth day of the seventh month, the Ghost Festival, and there was a mountain of tasks to handle in the palace.
After some thought, Shen Jue packed two meals. Now that his status had changed, the kitchen reserved meals for him, and he didn't have to fight with other eunuchs for food. He grabbed a helping of Xiahou Lian's favorite crystal shrimp dumplings and headed to the Fourth Qianxi Courtyard.
The cold palace remained as desolate as ever. The lanterns hadn't been replaced in a long time; their aged parchment was coated in a thick layer of dust, bestowing their light with a hazy, dreamlike glow. The plants along the path had grown wild with neglect, their tendrils sprawling across the walkway to tug pitifully at the robes of passersby.
The eunuchs who had once worked alongside Shen Jue in the Fourth Qianxi Courtyard greeted him joyfully and led him in.
"Shen-gonggong, you're a truly nostalgic person! Even after moving to the Document Office, you still remember our Sixi?! He's unwell today and went to bed early. Shall I wake him for you?"
Shen Jue tilted his head slightly and frowned. "He went to bed without dinner?"
"That's right," the eunuch said. "Actually, he hasn't felt well for a few days now, but he didn't pay it any mind. You know how it is—people like us can't summon the imperial physicians. We just have to tough it out. But with you here to check on him, Sixi's sure to recover!"
Shen Jue grunted in acknowledgment and quickened his pace. Xiahou Lian was as strong as an ox, daring to wash with well water in even the coldest weather. How could he have fallen ill? Shen Jue furrowed his brow as he realized that he had no medicinal herbs, and he made a mental note to fetch honeysuckle from the imperial physicians' office the next day.
He and the other eunuch walked single file down the dim corridor. Faint light reflected off the intricate patterns on Shen Jue's robe, the fabric swaying like floating clouds as he moved. The young eunuch watched with envy.
"Shen-gonggong, your rise to the Document Office has been meteoric," he remarked. "Everyone knows that the inner palace's Document Office is like the outer court's Hanlin Academy. Only those who pass the imperial exams may enter the Grand Secretariat, and only those who enter the Document Office can join the Directorate of Ceremonial. As Wei-gonggong's godson, it's only a matter of time before you become the next head of the Directorate—"
"Silence!" Shen Jue shot him a cold glare, his usually gentle face now sharp as winter frost. "If you can't keep your mouth shut, don't blame me when you get into trouble with someone else."
"Yes, yes—you're right, Shen-gonggong!" The young eunuch trembled and quickly lowered his head.
When they reached Xiahou Lian's room, Shen Jue gave the eunuch a slight nod. Then he turned and entered, closing the door tightly behind him and leaving the eunuch outside. Recalling Shen Jue's earlier look, the eunuch touched his nose and walked off, still fearful.
Xiahou Lian hadn't lit any lamps, and the room was pitch-black. When Shen Jue entered, Xiahou Lian didn't make a sound. Shen Jue stood awkwardly by the door, unsure how to start the conversation.
Their last meeting had ended on bad terms.
Xiahou Lian had vehemently opposed Shen Jue acknowledging Wei De as his godfather, even threatening to wield Jingtie in a fight against the other boy. He'd always been hotheaded and stubborn, acting recklessly when angered. He'd never considered that Shen Jue was no longer Xie Jinglan—Xie Jinglan could study and become an official, remaining upright, but Shen Jue couldn't.
But as long as Xiahou Lian stayed, Shen Jue would tolerate his tantrums.
Shen Jue sighed deeply and tapped the doorframe. "Xiahou Lian, I brought crystal shrimp dumplings. Do you want some?"
Xiahou Lian didn't respond.
The room was silent. Shen Jue peered through the darkness at the closed bed-curtains; behind them lay Xiahou Lian's figure like a heavy cloud.
Shen Jue lowered his thick lashes. Placing the meal box on the table, he lit a short candle. "Why can't you understand, Xiahou Lian? In the palace, eunuchs are slaves to their masters, bound by layers of dependence. Beyond relying on the emperor and his consorts, the only option is attaching oneself to a powerful eunuch. It's the most convenient shortcut. Acknowledging that villain as a godfather is just a temporary humiliation. Once I'm powerful, won't today's shame be avenged?"
The curtains remained still. Growing increasingly agitated, Shen Jue raised his voice. "Xiahou Lian, are you even listening?"
He strode forward and yanked open the curtains, only to find Xiahou Lian lying there with his eyes closed, drenched in sweat, his hair sticking to his face as if he'd just been fished out of water. Shen Jue panicked and shook Xiahou Lian. "What's wrong?" he shouted. "How did you get so sick?"
Xiahou Lian finally stirred, barely able to open his eyes. Weakly, he asked, "How come you're here?" His head spun, and he was still fixated on Shen Jue acknowledging Wei De as his godfather. "Don't call that eunuch 'Father,' Shaoye..." he murmured.
Shen Jue put his hand to Xiahou Lian's forehead; it was burning. He frowned. "You have a fever. Wait here—I'll get you medicine."
As he turned to leave, Xiahou Lian grabbed his wrist with surprising strength and pulled him back, gritting his teeth. "Don't go!"
"What are you doing?"
"Don't go anywhere! Listen to me!" Xiahou Lian panted. "Studying is still the right path, Shaoye!"
Shen Jue laughed bitterly. "I'm a eunuch now. How could I take the imperial exams? Have you ever seen a eunuch scholar?"
"Who's going to pull down your pants to check?!" Now slightly more alert, Xiahou Lian struggled to sit up and speak to Shen Jue. "If you're worried about money, don't be. I've saved up silver for the past two years. It'll be more than enough to support your studies."
Xiahou Lian began to ramble.
"I've saved a hundred and twenty taels of silver. Renting a small house in the capital will cost twenty taels. Food and other expenses will be thirty-six taels a year at most. You can't cook or do laundry, so hiring a maid would cost another twenty taels. Hmm… It seems like I may not have enough..."
Shen Jue didn't interrupt.
"But it's fine," Xiahou Lian continued. "My mother has money. I'll ask her for some. You're so smart; you won't need to study forever. Maybe you'll pass the exams in a couple years."
The fool didn't even know that the imperial exams were only held once every three years. "You can keep calculating. I'm going to get medicine," Shen Jue said, standing up.
"Don't...don't go!" Xiahou Lian leaned half off the bed, but he was so weak that he nearly fell out. Shen Jue, startled, hurriedly grabbed his arm to steady him.
Xiahou Lian lay back on the bed and sighed. "I'm not sick! This...this is poison."
Shen Jue was shocked. "Someone poisoned you?"
"No." Xiahou Lian lay back down to gather his strength before speaking. "It's Seven Fifteen. Every Qiye Garden assassin has to take the antidote annually, on the fifteenth day of the seventh month. I forgot to bring mine. The medicine you get won't help."
"Why didn't you say so earlier?! And if that's the case, why did you stay? Are you trying to die?!"
"I thought I could tough it out..."
"Has anyone ever toughed it out before?"
"No."
Shen Jue felt like he was about to vomit blood.
"I mean, no one's tried before, so I wanted to give it a shot," Xiahou Lian said with a bitter smile. "But now, it seems...a bit harder than I thought."
Hard? It was downright dangerous. Xiahou Lian's entire body felt weak, like his limbs were stuffed with cotton, unable to exert any strength. It hadn't been so bad earlier, but now even his vision was blurring. Shen Jue seemed to shift in and out of focus, and Xiahou Lian's mind felt like mush; he couldn't think clearly.
"Get me some water," Xiahou Lian said, his voice hoarse.
He propped himself up against the bedpost. Shen Jue tried to hand him a cup, but as soon as he let go, the cup dropped to the ground and shattered.
He couldn't even hold a cup now.
"Xiahou Lian..." Shen Jue's voice trembled. "You..."
"It's fine." Xiahou Lian shook his head, wanting to offer the other boy some comfort. When he looked down, though, he saw that his hands were covered in blood. His scalp numbed, and he froze.
Only then did he realize that his nose and mouth had been bleeding for some time. Bright-red blood had dripped onto the quilt—a horrifying sight. Shaky, he lay back down, staring blankly at the bed's canopy. Within moments, it seemed as if he were only breathing out, not in.
This was it. He was bleeding from all seven orifices. He was done for.
Xiahou Lian had always been a troublemaker, fearless and reckless, even daring to steal from the abbot. But now, facing death, he realized he was nonetheless afraid of dying.
What would happen after death? He didn't have time to think about it. Figures flashed before his eyes. The first was his unreliable mother. When he died here in the palace, she'd probably still be carousing in a brothel or slaughtering her way through some sect, her blade gleaming like water as her prey scattered. She'd always been like that, carefree and self-indulgent. Xiahou Lian wasn't a son to her but a burden.
A pang of loneliness rose in his usually carefree chest, like a lone goose treading on snow. He'd be buried in this desolate courtyard, anonymous. His mother, his shifu, and Uncle Duan would never find him again.
Xiahou Lian's fingers twitched weakly, and a warm hand grasped his. He turned his head and saw Shen Jue's tearful eyes.
"Xiahou Lian, how are you feeling? Don't scare me!"
At least it wasn't all bad. He had a brother to see him off.
"I..." Xiahou Lian opened his mouth, and blood trickled from the corners. Shen Jue took out a handkerchief and wiped it away, but it kept flowing, impossible to staunch.
"My body feels so weak—like I'm about to ascend to the heavens," Xiahou Lian said softly. "Do you think I might really become an immortal? Maybe I'm a reincarnated celestial being, and the heavens are calling me back."
Shen Jue gripped Xiahou Lian's hand tightly, as if he could keep the boy from leaving. He buried his face in Xiahou Lian's palm. "A-Lian, you can't die. I won't let you die!"
"Listen to me, Shaoye. I need to give you my last words." Xiahou Lian wiped tears from Shen Jue's face with a faint smile.
He'd always been so kindhearted. Even on his deathbed, he was busy comforting others.
In truth, he'd always felt guilty about Shen Jue—guilty for not telling him about Qiye Garden's assassinations sooner, and guilty for not saving Aunt Lan. Shen Jue had already suffered so much, and now he was about to lose Xiahou Lian too. Dying would be a relief for Xiahou Lian—no more pain, no more concerns. But Shen Jue would have to continue suffering alone in the palace.
The promises Xiahou Lian had once made to Shen Jue—to take him to see the lantern festival, to stay by his side, to help him seek his revenge—would never be fulfilled.
He truly was sorry.
"If you ever get a chance to leave the palace, follow the old process: Go to the highest point in the city and leave Jingtie there. My mother will come find you. Her name's Xiahou Pei. She's very beautiful, but her personality's a bit odd. You won't need to say much. Just tell her that Xiao-Lian was disloyal and can't care for her in her old age. Tell her to look after herself, drink less, and remember to bring a 'sheath' the next time she goes on a mission. She shouldn't act like she's invincible. I hid some silver under the third tree in front of the temple gate in Qiye Garden—a hundred and twenty taels. Tell her to give you that. She doesn't need money. Consider that your inheritance from me."
"I don't want it!" Shen Jue shook his head desperately, tears streaming down his cheeks. Suddenly thinking of something, he looked up. "Your mother! Yes—your mother must have the antidote to save you. I'll go find her!"
Although half-dead, Xiahou Lian grabbed him. "Find her? In the palace? How?"
"No..." Shen Jue's eyes darted nervously. "I…I saw your mother the night I found you. She killed a few imperial guards. She was looking for you."
Hearing that, Xiahou Lian froze. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I was afraid you'd go looking for her if you knew. I..." Shen Jue couldn't meet Xiahou Lian's eyes. He clenched his teeth and stood. "I'll go find her now. She might still be in the palace. If I can't find her, I'll find a way to leave. Wait for me!"
"Shen Jue!"
Shen Jue didn't look back. He rushed to the door and opened it. A tall figure stood leaning against the walkway wall, a blade of grass dangling from her lips. This woman's head wasn't covered with feathers. Her jet-black hair cascaded down her back, making her skin appear snowy and her lips bloodred. When she saw Shen Jue, her gaze swept over him like moonlight over a calm lake.
It wasn't Consort Gao. Shen Jue stepped back warily.
"His mother," the woman said, pointing at herself and smiling. "Xiahou Pei."