Xie Chichun - Chapter 32

Han Jie stood in the shadows beyond the emperor’s quarters, the fading bonfire light flickering across his face.

Though the emperor had dismissed the crowd, a few mischievous noble youths still lingered, their subdued laughter making Han Jie—seated alone at a table, idly picking at candied fruits—blend into the scene.

His close friend Wei Yuandao approached and took the adjacent seat. You sense it too?

There’s scheming afoot, Han Jie confirmed, sliding a wine cup smoothly toward Wei. Just unsure of their full plan. Where’s your father?

Probably inside getting scolded. Wei drained the cup with a wry smile. His father, Wei Zhongmin, was the Deputy Grand Secretary and had accompanied the imperial procession; there was no avoiding reprimand tonight.

Wei Yuandao, though young, was already renowned for his scholarly brilliance—less for poetry than for historical and philosophical treatises. Crowned by the emperor as Tanhua (Third Rank Scholar), he was the dream match for many noble maidens.

Unfortunately for them, this prized flower was already plucked: betrothed to Xie Xuan’s third sister, Xie Jiu.

Han Jie sipped his wine, gaze fixed on the palace doors. Commander Cai will surely be punished. Let’s just hope Deputy Commander Gao escapes a beating—or the rest of us will suffer.

—Gao Cheng, Vice Commander of the Azure Guard, was infamous for his brutality. Born lowly and still unmarried past thirty, he answered to no one but the emperor. Even Commander Cai Zong couldn’t control him. Yet Gao’s savagery came with unmatched investigative skills and interrogation tactics that cracked major cases. Were it not for his vile reputation and humble origins, he’d have claimed the Azure Guard’s top post long ago.

Wei chuckled. He takes his temper out on subordinates?

Routinely.

Even you?

He wouldn’t dare. Han Jie’s lips curved, the firelight carving his handsome features into something fearsome.

Having endured death and rebirth, his heart had hardened to steel. Nothing in this world frightened him now—except losing Xie Xuan. So while he moved through society as a refined noble, his capacity for ruthlessness outstripped even Gao Cheng’s.

“Han Jie is terrifying,” Gao had once admitted.

Wei’s curiosity piqued. Rumor says you spar with Gao. Did you beat him into submission? His skills are supposedly top-tier.

Han Jie smirked. Never knocked him down, but he can’t defeat me either. Leaning closer, he murmured, This incident—we observe only.

Wei nodded. I’ll inform my father.

They lingered until guards dragged Cai Zong and Gao Cheng out. Before the emperor’s eyes, each received fifty heavy strokes of the rod.

Gao Cheng was a man of steel. Despite his lower body being a bloody mess from the beating, he didn’t utter a single groan. Once the punishment ended, he even struggled to his feet unaided. Though his injuries made walking difficult, he staggered back into the hall to kneel before the emperor.
Cai Zong, however, hailed from a noble family. His rise to Commander of the Azure Guard owed as much to his lineage as to his investigative prowess. Unlike Gao, he lacked that ironclad endurance. By the thirtieth stroke, low moans escaped him, and in the end, guards had to drag him back inside.

Watching this, Wei Yuandao shook his head. If a man endures that much pain without venting it later, he’s not human. Glad you can avoid his wrath.

Han Jie laughed. Just then, Grand Secretary Guo She, Deputy Grand Secretary Wei Zhongmin, Cai Zong, and Gao Cheng emerged. Gao stubbornly refused assistance despite his limp, while Cai leaned on a guard. As they neared, Cai’s strained voice carried:

“…Thank you for speaking on our behalf, Grand Secretary Guo.”

The words were polite, but his expression twisted as if swallowing vinegar—Cai Zong avoided factional politics and had always kept the Grand Secretary at arm’s length.

Guo She stroked his beard, fox-like. “Colleagues should support one another. No need for thanks.”

When the group approached, Wei Yuandao went to greet his father, exchanging pleasantries with Guo.

Though Han Jie was close with Wei Yuandao, his military family background meant little interaction with civil officials like Guo or Wei Zhongmin. He also had no desire to salt Cai Zong’s wounds. But when his eyes met Gao Cheng’s, he grinned.

Gao responded with a furious clenched fist, then stormed off as if unharmed.

Despite the previous night’s incident, the hunting event the next day proceeded with fanfare.
Emperor Yuanjing, though past fifty, had been a warrior in his youth. While he could no longer draw a heavy bow, he still relished the annual hunt. His ministers praised his “heaven-blessed vigor, capable of felling tigers and leopards.”

The noblewomen, including Xie Xuan’s group, didn’t participate but followed the empress to a scenic hillside overlook. Below, men in armor atop spirited horses gathered under fluttering banners—a heroic sight.

The emperor led the charge into the woods, bow drawn.

Guards flanked him, while princes and meritorious nobles followed. Civil officials remained behind, awaiting the imperial spoils.

Xie Xuan, though fond of Han Caiyi, grew irritated seeing Lady Yue cling to the Marchioness of Jingchuan. She lagged behind with Xie Jun and Caiyi, enjoying the freedom.

Caiyi, a general’s daughter, cared little for scenery. She kept glancing toward the hunt, pointing excitedly:
“Look! Someone bagged a leopard! Oh, a deer too!” Then, wistfully: “Brother’s on duty today—I wonder if he’ll catch anything.”

Halfway up the mountain, Caiyi suddenly froze. “What’s happening down there?”

Xie Xuan and Xie Jun turned to see chaos erupt at the forest’s edge. Riders scrambled toward the woods as a horse burst forth, carrying two figures—one in the emperor’s signature yellow robes, the other in an Azure Guard uniform.

At this distance, the guard’s face was unclear, but his build…

Han Jie? Xie Xuan rubbed her eyes, certain she was mistaken.
Behind the galloping horse, several guards swiftly emerged from the forest, followed by the furious roars of what sounded like tigers. Emperor Yuanjing was hurriedly escorted away, and soon after, two massive tigers were dragged out from the woods and dumped unceremoniously on the ground.

Clearly, something had gone terribly wrong during the hunt. The three girls exchanged uneasy glances, not daring to move, and could only wait with bated curiosity.

Half an incense stick’s time later, the empress led the group hastily down the mountain. Xie Xuan and the others naturally trailed at the rear, returning to their lodgings to rest.

Though the noble families dared not speak openly of the incident, whispers about the hunt’s mishap had already begun to spread.

The event had been too sudden, unfolding right before everyone’s eyes. While the women were too far away to grasp the details, the men had been right at the forest’s edge. Moreover, the Azure Guard and the Imperial Guard were a mixed group, and many young nobles had been participating in the hunt. As they exchanged information, the truth gradually came to light—

Emperor Yuanjing, in high spirits, had first hunted a rabbit, then spotted a leopard. After several missed shots, his competitive drive kicked in, and he chased the leopard deep into the forest. Suddenly, two tigers lunged at him. Their appearance was abrupt, and unlike the other game, they attacked ferociously. Though the emperor wasn’t injured, his horse panicked, throwing the fifty-year-old monarch to the ground.

Guards immediately rushed forward to fend off the tigers and swiftly helped the emperor remount, galloping out of the forest.

Xie Xuan still wasn’t sure if that guard had been Han Jie, but the account sent chills down her spine.

The animals used for hunting in the resort were all specially bred and tamed. Though not as docile as those in the imperial menagerie, their wild instincts had been dulled—they would only flee when chased, never fight back. So where had those two tigers come from?

This was likely the question on everyone’s mind, fueling growing unease.

To sneak wild beasts into a hunt could only mean one thing: an attempt on the emperor’s life. The resort’s security was airtight, with thorough inspections before the imperial arrival and routine checks before the hunt. Every animal allowed into the hunting grounds was supposed to be tame. That someone could bypass such meticulous arrangements spoke of terrifying influence.

Who could it be?

Speculations swirled in hushed tones. After being examined by the imperial physicians and given medicine, Emperor Yuanjing recovered quickly. But once composed, his rage erupted. He ordered an immediate return to the capital and a full investigation, commanding all accompanying nobles to depart without delay.

As the last carriage left, the entire Yu Mountain resort was sealed off by the Imperial Guard. From the highest officials to the lowest maids and eunuchs, no one was allowed to escape. Those responsible for organizing the hunt—from the Ministry of Rites to the Imperial Stables—were arrested without exception.

Xie Xuan and Xie Jun sat together in their carriage, watching the retreating silhouette of the resort with trepidation.

“Don’t speak of these events to anyone after we return,” Xie Jun cautioned, pulling her sister close. “Even if others discuss it, we mustn’t get involved. This is perilous—the slightest misstep could bring disaster. Understood?”

“Understood,” Xie Xuan nodded, though her mind was elsewhere.

In her past life, by this time, she’d already been sent to Xuanyin Temple for “quiet cultivation” and had no memory of this hunt. She only vaguely recalled that a few months later, the Crown Prince had seemingly been deposed, only to return to the Eastern Palace two or three years after. Could his downfall be tied to this incident?

The thought made her head throb. She closed her eyes, trying to steady herself.

Fragments of memories from her past life surfaced—how the temple’s Abbess Qingxu had been unusually restless during that period, sometimes jumping at shadows, other times staring blankly at the temple statues. At the time, Xie Xuan had paid little heed, but now, the odd behavior stood out.

Was there a connection?

She mentally scolded herself for overthinking. Abbess Qingxu, with her imperial title, had flitted between noble households like a social butterfly, always busy. The upper crust was rife with scandals; her nervousness might’ve had nothing to do with the hunt.

After all, the abbess had always been unscrupulous in her pursuit of wealth—no wonder she’d been jumpy.

But then, like lightning, a realization struck. Xie Xuan bolted upright, nearly hitting Xie Jun’s chin.

“What’s wrong?” Xie Jun asked, startled.

“N-Nothing,” Xie Xuan stammered, though her heart pounded violently.

The money.

Abbess Qingxu had always been greedy. From the moment Xie Xuan entered the temple at age ten, the woman had been amassing wealth. Over the years, countless nobles had sought her out, offering lavish donations in exchange for blessings or solutions. If tallied, the annual sum would’ve reached hundreds of thousands of taels.

But where had all that silver gone?

The abbess lived luxuriously, but even her extravagance couldn’t consume such vast amounts. The temple itself was funded by devotees’ offerings—she had no need to dip into her own coffers.

So where did the rest go?

Xie Xuan remembered that even after her marriage in her past life, the abbess had continued her relentless fundraising. Back then, Xie Xuan hadn’t cared enough to question it. But now, the implications sent tremors through her.

Hundreds of thousands of taels yearly—how could it vanish without a trace?

Even several Duke of Heng households combined couldn’t spend that much unless they deliberately funneled it somewhere.

What required such colossal funds, yet left no ripple?

The more she pondered, the more her dread grew.

The Crown Prince’s deposition had undoubtedly been orchestrated by the Prince of Yue and his faction. Yet the abbess remained untouched, her influence even growing afterward. Could she be tied to the Prince of Yue?

The idea terrified her. She burrowed back into Xie Jun’s embrace.
In her past life, she’d never seen any link between the Prince of Yue and the temple. Was she imagining things? But if true… The Prince of Yue had played the fool to everyone, including Grand Secretary Guo and Chief Eunuch Feng, who’d sought to use him as a puppet. For a “simpleton” to seize the throne, even with others’ ambitions paving the way, would require substantial funds.

Where had his money come from?

She recalled how, after his ascension, he’d swiftly crushed Guo and Feng, proving he’d already commanded formidable power. How had a “fool” financed such a network?

Xie Jun studied her shifting expression with concern. “What’s troubling you, Xuanxuan?”

“Nothing…” Xie Xuan forced a calm she didn’t feel. “Just thinking about what happened. It’s terrifying.”

Xie Jun sighed, stroking her hair. “Don’t worry. This won’t involve our family.”