Chapter 348: Undercurrents in the Sophora Tree Shade, Shocking Secret Letter
Morning light pierced the clouds, tinting the madder curtains on the window lattices of the warm room in the east courtyard a soft amber hue. The copper crane incense burner still lingered, and the air was filled with a warm aroma of medicine and milk. Little Swallow leaned against a large apricot-yellow brocade pillow, her fingertips unconsciously tracing the delicate contours of the newborn's ear. The little one twisted in its swaddling clothes, whimpering like a kitten. Immediately, she leaned over, her nose almost touching the baby's warm face, feeling its gentle breath against her skin.
"Mom is here," she whispered, her voice hoarse and tired, typical of postpartum women.
Mian Rui, who was standing beside the cradle, immediately raised a chubby finger and solemnly mouthed to Mian Xin, who lay on the other side, "Brother, wake up! Xin'er, keep quiet!" Mian Xin immediately covered her mouth with her chubby little hand, her big, black grape-like eyes widening to a smile. The nurse, observing this heartwarming scene, a kind smile playing on her lips, gently tucked in the corner of the quilt.
Yongqi sat on the edge of the bed, his broad palms completely enveloping Xiaoyanzi's cool hands. He had changed out of his ash-stained black uniform for a moon-white robe with a cloud pattern. The newly sprouted stubble on his chin was strikingly clear in the morning light. His gaze cast a heavy gaze out the window—the charred ruins of the west courtyard lay exposed in the bright sunlight. The collapsed beams and pillars pointed skyward like hideous animal bones, silently telling of last night's horror. The ghostly shadow on the wall, the cold light reflected from the crescent jade pendant at his waist, felt like a cold thorn, piercing his heart.
"Prince! Princess!" Rapid footsteps shattered the stillness of the room. Little Dengzi practically stumbled in, sweat beads on his forehead, his face pale. He held a wax ball the size of a pigeon egg in his hands and carefully placed it on the kang table. "Old Zhao, the comprador from the corner gate, handed it in. He said he found it at the bottom of the vegetable basket when he delivered it this morning!"
Xiaoyanzi's heart trembled. Yongqi had already picked up the wax ball. With a slight pressure from his fingertips, a crisp "click" sound broke the wax shell. He pulled out the plain paper inside. The paper was as thin as a cicada's wing and almost transparent in the morning light. On it were a few lines of ink, messy and chaotic, like the dance of a startled snake:
＞**E Min stayed at home, claiming to be ill, and refused to see visitors.
＞At three o'clock last night in the morning, a fast horse left Fucheng Gate in Xilin Jueluo Mansion and headed straight for Taiping Lake.
＞Be careful! **
"Taiping Lake..." Xiaoyanzi muttered these three words, her fingertips suddenly clenching Yongqi's sleeve. Fragments of memories from her past life were instantly ignited - the old site of Prince Rong's palace on the shores of Taiping Lake, the Qingfeng Pavilion nestled among the weeping willows! And... the tragic incident in which the talented woman Xilin Taiqing was expelled from the palace due to the conflict between legitimate and illegitimate children! She suddenly looked up at Yongqi, her voice tense, even unconsciously, "The old house at Taiping Lake! Emin's maternal family, the Xilin Jueluo family, has roots there!"
Yongqi's eyes instantly darkened like a cold pond. He gripped the thin paper, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. Emin, that venomous snake, had extended his tentacles so deeply! Using the express horses of the Xilin Jueluo Mansion to deliver the message, and choosing a remote location like Taiping Lake, linked to the palace's old grudges, to make the rendezvous, what a sinister and treacherous scheme!
"Little Dengzi," Yongqi's voice was as cold as ice, "go to Huaiyin Courtyard." He stood up, his movements carrying the force of suppressed thunder.
"Huaiyin Courtyard?" Xiaoyanzi was startled and struggled to sit up. "That place is cold and remote, you..."
"Lie down!" Yong Qi turned around and pressed her back onto the pillow without question, his palms ironing her shoulders with a steady force. "You can't be exposed to the wind during confinement. I'll go check on her." His deep eyes locked onto her pale face, surging with rage and unshakable protection. "Don't worry, I'm here."
He strode out with great speed, the corner of his moon-white robe curling neatly at the threshold. Little Swallow watched his tall, yet exhausted figure disappear into the shadows of the pillars outside the doorway, her heart tightening. She instinctively stroked her flat belly, where she had conceived two unborn children. Cold memories, mixed with anxiety about the newborns, clung to her like vines.
"Princess," Caixia came in with a bowl of freshly cooked bird's nest soup. Seeing that her face looked off, she said worriedly, "You don't look well, but is your wound hurting again? The imperial physician said that this childbirth has damaged your vitality, and you need to take good care of yourself..."
Xiaoyanzi shook her head, her eyes still glued to the direction where Yongqi had disappeared. Her voice was almost inaudible: "Caixia, go get the small red sandalwood box at the bottom of my makeup box."
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Huaiyin Courtyard.
As its name suggests, it's hidden deep in the northwest corner of the palace. Several half-dead, old locust trees tangle with twisted branches, their dense canopies shrouding the entire courtyard in a perpetual darkness. Moss creeps along the base of the mottled walls, and the damp, cold air is filled with the scent of decaying leaves and earth. Guarded by only two deaf and blind old servants, even birds rarely come, leaving the courtyard as silent as a graveyard.
Yongqi entered the courtyard with two trusted guards. Their boots made a subtle, sticky sound as they treaded on the slippery moss. His sharp, hawk-like gaze swept over every inch of the ground, every corner, every closed, shabby door and window. The guards split up, one carefully examining the dust beneath the door hinges and threshold, while another scaled the wall to inspect the tiles.
"Your Highness!" The guard inspecting the courtyard gate suddenly exclaimed, crouched down, and carefully scraped off a small piece of dark brown stain that almost blended with the soil with his dagger. He brought it close to his nose and sniffed, "It's dried blood! Very faint, mixed with the smell of mud, but it's unmistakable!"
The guards climbing on the wall also noticed something and pointed to an inconspicuous edge of the eaves: "Your Highness, look! A piece of the moss here has been rubbed off! The mark is very fresh! And there is half a...fuzzy boot print!" The print was narrow and thin, definitely not the style of thick-soled official boots that the guards in the palace usually wore.
Yongqi's heart sank. He walked to the largest old locust tree, its branches twisted like ghost claws. Its trunk was covered in dark brown knots and cracked bark. He reached out and stroked the rough bark inch by inch. Suddenly, his fingertips paused at an inconspicuous indentation—there, several extremely fine scratches, almost hidden by the bark lines, fresh as if scratched by something sharp.
He narrowed his eyes and leaned closer. Next to the scratch, a tiny, almost invisible piece of indigo silk fiber stubbornly embedded in the cracks of the bark. He carefully picked it out with the tip of his dagger. That familiar indigo color was exactly the same as the scrap of cloth he found in the ruins last night!
"What a 'Taiping Lake'! What a 'Huaiyin Courtyard'!" Yongqi's voice, as cold as an ice-hardened blade, echoed through the silent courtyard, startling the crows perched on the dead branches with a piercing "caa ...
At this moment, behind the window lattice of the warm room in the east courtyard, Xiaoyanzi opened the small rosewood box Caixia had brought. There were no jewels inside, only a simple bronze key and a yellowed, old blueprint detailing the layout of Qingfeng Pavilion on the shores of Taiping Lake. In a corner, a few inconspicuous symbols were marked in tiny calligraphy. They were secret codes taught to her by Xiao Jian in her previous life, codes understood only by those in the martial arts world. Her fingertips traced the familiar symbols, her eyes gradually becoming deep and cold. The wind on Taiping Lake was about to pick up.
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