59: Chapter 59: Clues Like Smoke Point to Higher Levels

Chen Xuan finished the bowl of noodles with an added egg, the oil forming a shimmering ring at the bottom of the bowl.

He drank the last drop of the soup, wiped his mouth, and stood up, his low stool scraping against the bluestone floor with a light sound.

Street lanterns lit up one after another, casting long shadows at the entrance of the alley.

He strolled back leisurely with his hands tucked into his sleeves, pausing briefly as he passed a pharmacy.

The shopkeeper was closing up. Seeing him, he nodded with a smile. "Young Master Chen, finished with your work for the day?"

"I'm quite idle," Chen Xuan smiled. "Just that my legs are a bit sore from squatting by the stove all day."

"How are you an idle man? You're clearly more hardworking than those of us who labor for a living."

The shopkeeper chuckled and shook his head, handing over a small packet of herbs. "That prescription you mentioned the other day—I tried it, and it really works for a cough. Here are some mint leaves for you to make tea and refresh yourself."

Chen Xuan didn't refuse. He took them, tucked them into his robe, thanked him, and continued on his way.

A night breeze blew in from one end of the alley, carrying the dampness of the river.

He pushed open his courtyard gate. Just as he crossed the threshold, he saw Liu Ruyan sitting under the eaves of the main hall, holding a piece of yellowed paper, her knuckles slightly white from the grip.

"You're here." She looked up, her voice kept very low.

Chen Xuan raised an eyebrow but didn't ask much. He closed the door, walked over, and sat opposite her. An oil lamp sat on the table; its flame flickered twice before steadying.

"I went through the trunk my mother left behind and only found this."

Liu Ruyan pushed the paper toward him. "She hid it in her pillow before she died."

Chen Xuan picked it up for a closer look. The edges of the paper were brittle and cracked, and the ink had blurred slightly, but a few lines were still legible.

The beginning read: '15th day of the third month, Year of Guiwei, duty log of the delivery room.' Below it was a list of names and handover times. Further down, a line of crooked small characters was squeezed into the middle:

"The child is not from an ordinary Family; I fear it will bring disaster. Conceal its tracks immediately."

He stared at those words for a moment, his finger lightly tracing over 'not from an ordinary Family.'

"Your mother was the Midwife in the delivery room back then?" he asked.

Liu Ruyan nodded. "She was a Medical Woman for the Jiangnan Prefectural Office. That year, she was temporarily reassigned to a private residence to assist in a birth.

Not long after the incident, she was kicked out of the prefectural office. She was sick for three years before she passed away.

I always thought she was just caught up in something, but now it seems she was forced out."

Chen Xuan was silent for a while before suddenly asking, "Whose private residence was it?"

"I can't find out."

Liu Ruyan gave a bitter smile. "All the records from back then are gone. I can't find a single word even in the local gazetteers.

I've asked around over the years. Some say the Family had deep roots; others say a noble from the capital was staying there temporarily. But no one dares to speak clearly."

Chen Xuan put the paper down, leaned back in his chair, and looked up at the roof beams. The night breeze made the copper bell on the eaves chime softly.

"The Year of Guiwei... that was twenty years ago," he said slowly. "Where were you born at that time?"

"Qingpu Town, outside Suzhou City," Liu Ruyan said. "The place was remote, but that residence was built grandly, like a Temporary Imperial Palace.

My mother said that on the night of the delivery, several people in black robes arrived and wouldn't let anyone near. Even she was kept behind a screen. She only heard the baby cry once, and then it was carried away.

The next day, she discovered that the baby on the bed had been replaced with a girl—me."

Chen Xuan rubbed his chin, his gaze gradually darkening.

"You mentioned an 'Order from the Capital'—that's a heavy claim. To command local officials to cooperate in a cover-up would require at least a high-ranking official from the Six Ministries, or even someone from the Palace. But is one child worth such a massive commotion?"

Liu Ruyan bit her lip. "Unless I'm not a child of an ordinary Family."

Chen Xuan didn't respond. He stood up, walked to the wall, and pulled an old notebook from a hidden compartment. He flipped to a page filled with notes on strange cases, old news, and rumors he had handled over the years.

His finger stopped on one entry: 'Year of Guiwei, the Jiangnan Governor reported a case of a pretender to an Imperial Clan orphan; it was later rejected by the Ministry of Justice, and the files were sealed.'

"Imperial Clan?" Liu Ruyan looked up sharply.

"Don't be in a hurry."

Chen Xuan pressed his hand on the notebook. "This is just a scrap of information; there isn't even any specific detail.

But I remember that during that period, the court was investigating the major families of Jiangnan very strictly, especially those with ties to the Imperial Family through marriage.

Think about it. If a child really shouldn't have been born, or shouldn't be alive, what's the best way?"

"Find a scapegoat to die in their place, then raise them outside with a different identity," Liu Ruyan's voice was almost a whisper.

Chen Xuan nodded. "And you'd need an identity no one would suspect—for example, the daughter of a Midwife."

The room fell silent. The flame of the oil lamp jumped, casting shifting shadows on their faces.

After a long while, Chen Xuan closed the notebook and blew out the lamp.

"This matter can no longer be investigated openly," he whispered. "From today on, don't look into anything regarding that year. Don't write letters, don't ask for help, don't even let a word slip in your sleep."

Liu Ruyan sat still. "And what about you?"

"Me?"

Chen Xuan smiled, but this time it lacked warmth. "I'll play my part as a 'salted fish'—I'll eat and sleep as usual. But I will remember every name, every thread. When the wind is strong enough, I'll set a fire and burn it all out."

He stood up, walked to the window, and pushed it open slightly. The silhouette of the Imperial Palace was faintly visible in the night, its palace lanterns glowing quietly like eyes submerged underwater.

"I used to think my troubles were at most some corrupt official wanting to silence me."

He looked toward the palace, his voice lowering. "Now it seems that if those people in the capital are truly involved, we wouldn't even know how we died."

Liu Ruyan slowly stood up, walked behind him, and asked softly, "Are you still going to investigate?"

Chen Xuan didn't look back. He just pressed his palm against the window frame, feeling the coolness of the wood.

"You've thought about this for twenty years. If I don't help you, who will?" he said. "But we have to change our approach. We can't crash into it head-on; we have to go around it.

As long as I remain quiet, they'll just see me as a lazy dog.

But if I move, I'll make sure they know that this dog has actually been carrying a blade in its mouth all along."

Liu Ruyan didn't speak. She just reached out and tore the yellowed paper in half, then again, and again, until it was shredded into pieces the size of fingernails, which she scattered into the empty teacup on the table.

She picked up the warm water nearby and poured it in with a splash. The paper scraps swirled and sank to the bottom.

"Tomorrow, I'll return to the flower boat and sing and receive guests as usual. If anyone asks about you, I'll say I haven't seen you lately."

Chen Xuan nodded. "Very good. The more ordinary you are, the safer you'll be."

He stood for a while longer, then suddenly turned and pulled an iron box from under the bed. He opened it and took out something wrapped in cloth. Unwrapping it revealed a copper token of an ancient design, with a cloud pattern engraved on the front and the character 'Nei' on the back.

"What is this?" Liu Ruyan asked.

"I took it off a dead man the year before last."

Chen Xuan rubbed the surface of the token with his thumb. "I didn't know its purpose then, but I found out later. It's a passage token used by the Palace Domestic Service in the early years.

The man was in plain clothes, dead in a ruined temple outside the city, clutching this in his hand. I kept it, always feeling it might come in handy one day."

Liu Ruyan stared at the token and suddenly said, "Before my mother died, she kept muttering a word—Cloud Pavilion."

Chen Xuan's hand paused.

"What did you say?"

"Cloud Pavilion."

She repeated it. "She said, 'If the Cloud Pavilion does not open, the truth will remain buried forever.' I always thought it was nonsense, but looking at your token now, doesn't that cloud pattern look a bit similar?"

Chen Xuan stared at the carving, his gaze turning cold bit by bit.

"It's not just 'a bit' similar," he said slowly. "This is the exact same mark."

The two looked at each other and said no more.

Outside the window, a cloud drifted across the moon. The courtyard went dark for a moment before brightening again.

Chen Xuan rewrapped the copper token, put it back in the iron box, closed the lid, and kicked it back under the bed.

He sat back in his chair, crossed his legs, picked up the teapot, poured a cup of cold tea, and took a sip.

"Tomorrow I'm going to the bookstore," he said. "I'll buy a copy of 'Examination of Great Zhou's Official System' and see if there's a stall selling sugar-roasted chestnuts. I haven't had them in a long while."

Seeing him like this, Liu Ruyan almost laughed, but her eyes grew warm.

"You're quite good at pretending."

"Of course," Chen Xuan grinned. "I'm the man who even fooled Zhao Hongling."

But after he finished laughing, he raised his hand and lightly wiped his nose—a subtle movement that carried a hint of ruthlessness.

He knew that starting tonight, every step had to be calculated perfectly. There could be no more mistakes.

Liu Ruyan rose to take her leave, led by a maid with a lantern toward the guest room in the side courtyard. Chen Xuan saw her to the gate but said nothing more, only nodding.

He returned to his study, relit the oil lamp, and opened a blank page in 'Examination of Great Zhou's Official System.' With a very fine brush, he wrote three words in the corner: The Cloud Pavilion Case.

His brush paused, then he added another line: 'Involves the central authorities; do not move lightly.'

He blew the ink dry, tucked the book into the innermost part of the bookshelf, and pressed it under a stack of old account books.

Then he extinguished the lamp and stood by the window, gazing toward the Imperial Palace, motionless.

The night breeze blew in, lifting a corner of the paper on the table.

Beneath that corner lay a map that had never been shown to anyone, with several locations circled in red ink. One of those spots was marked as the old residence in Qingpu Town.