Chapter Nine: The Fiery Night

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Chang Wei could not recall how that night had passed; all he remembered was feeling joyful and drinking heavily. He had drunkenly collapsed onto the bed draped with bright red sheets, a grin stretching from ear to ear.

He had often heard the phrase “being swept away by the red tide,” but had never understood its meaning until now. Gazing at the red candles by the bedside and the crimson quilt on the bed, and thinking of what was about to happen, he instinctively comprehended what those words truly meant.

The flickering candlelight was extinguished by Wen Zhiyan, and most of the moonlight was blocked outside the window. A slender figure nestled into Chang Wei’s embrace, and a surge of blood rushed downward. He easily caught the person in his arms and pressed himself against her from a familiar angle.

When he woke again, the bed beside him was empty, but there was a dark red stain on the scarlet sheets. Chang Wei chuckled foolishly as he stared at it for a long while before suddenly realizing that the room was silent, as if there was no other person.

Anxious, he hurried out without putting on his outer clothes or shoes. Outside the door, he saw Wen Zhiyan carrying a bundle of firewood into a small room tucked in a corner.

The aroma of porridge wafted from the room. The fire was burning a bit too fiercely, and the sound of porridge bubbling in the pot reached his ears, making the quiet surroundings suddenly feel lively.

The crackling of the firewood, the blowing wind in front of the stove, the boiling porridge, birds chirping, footsteps in the alley outside, vendors dragging carts slowly by—all signs of morning awakening.

“Has my husband woken up?” Wen Zhiyan poked her head out of the small room, her whole self unadorned yet refreshingly pure and beautiful.

Chang Wei strode over and hugged her tightly, his voice hoarse as he asked, “What did you just call me?”

“Husband,” Wen Zhiyan said shyly, hiding her face in his shoulder, making Chang Wei feel inexplicably like she was a little kitten, which made him hold her even tighter.

Wen Zhiyan’s voice muffled at his collar: “Husband, you’re hurting me.”

Chang Wei immediately loosened his grip and scrutinized her carefully. Wen Zhiyan, feeling puzzled by his gaze, gently pushed him: “Why are you looking at me like that...?”

“My lady treats me so well... last night, you didn’t cry out once... Does it still hurt now?”

Wen Zhiyan immediately turned and went inside: “The porridge is almost ready; I’m going to serve it.”

Chang Wei was utterly captivated by her childlike demeanor and followed closely behind her, even watching her without blinking during their meal.

This was the precious daughter of the Duke of Zhen Guo, a treasure admired by many noble heirs who wished to marry her. Yet now, she was gracefully devoted beneath him, cooking and caring for him.

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“I’ve looked through all the letters you brought back, but they seem incomplete. Please, husband, try to find more for Zhiyan,” Wen Zhiyan said, handing Chang Wei a thick stack of envelopes.

Chang Wei felt overwhelmed: “I secretly brought all these back...”

“I know my husband is capable of anything...” Wen Zhiyan picked up a small dish with chopsticks and placed some into his bowl. “Maybe... the Military Affairs Office—could you think of a way?”

At the mention of those three words, Chang Wei, who was greedily gulping down porridge, suddenly stopped.

Noticing his reaction, Wen Zhiyan immediately felt hurt: “Do you not want to?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to...” Chang Wei struggled to explain the stakes involved to Wen Zhiyan. More importantly, he didn’t want to reveal his own weakness in front of her.

Wen Zhiyan lowered her head and quietly pulled down her collar, revealing mottled red marks on her fair shoulder.

Like crimson plum blossoms blooming in the white snow, this sight reminded Chang Wei of everything that happened last night, and blood rushed swiftly downward in his head.

So Chang Wei boasted: “Don’t worry, my lady, I’ll inquire about it, but it will take some time.”

Wen Zhiyan’s eyes sparkled with hope as she pulled up her garment. She was both happy and worried: “Will it be difficult for you?”

“What’s so difficult about it!” Chang Wei regretted missing the chance to enjoy more splendor, hesitated for a moment, then couldn’t help but feel pleased with himself: “To be honest, your husband is now a man of Prince Fu.”

“Prince Fu?”

Chang Wei dipped his chopsticks in some rice soup and made small circles on the table.

“The Crown Prince had an accident; he’s ill now. The Second Prince has been frail since childhood. The Third Prince, the Duke Qi, has a powerful maternal family. The Fifth and Sixth Princes are no good at military strategy. The Seventh Prince, Prince Fu, though his mother’s background is weak, has been favored for years and is clever and capable himself. The others are all underage princes...”

Chang Wei lowered his voice: “It’s said the Crown Prince is near death; among the adult princes, only Duke Qi and Prince Fu have prospects.”

Wen Zhiyan nodded and repeated that name softly on her tongue.

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“Prince Fu...”

Even with the connection to Prince Fu, trying to glean information from the Military Affairs Office was extremely difficult. Chang Wei thought he might have to look elsewhere for a solution.

While on duty, Chang Wei wished his ears could stand on end, listening to every whisper in the palace and trading information from one court to another. To uncover more about Wen Chongyi, he was bold enough to eavesdrop on the words of Eunuch Su, who served close to the emperor.

But Su, having grown up alongside the emperor, was a sharp and cunning man. He would lie back in his rocking chair, squinting his eyes, and say, “Chang, you’re trying to be the palace’s news hub, aren’t you? With all those ears, be careful not to weigh down your neck so much you lose your head.”

Chang Wei’s purse had quickly grown fat, but soon his patrol location was shifted from the Golden Throne Hall and the Hall of Mental Cultivation to outside the Cold Palace. Though he was not demoted or docked pay, patrolling far from the influential quarters left little hope for advancement.

Palace people excelled at flattering the powerful and trampling the weak. When Chang Wei was well-connected, he was called Brother Chang or even Lord Chang everywhere.

Now, in the Cold Palace, whenever mealtime came, he was met with cold stares. His food was rationed, and for several days he had been given only sour, stale steamed buns.

One night on duty, he was grabbed by someone unknown, had a sack thrown over his head, dragged to a secluded place, and beaten.

Chang Wei limped home under the cover of night, bruised and battered, but his mind was anxious about how he could continue to seek the information Wen Zhiyan desired.

The air was thick with the smell of smoke and fire. Chang Wei reckoned it must be late at night, when fires should have been extinguished. He looked up casually, only to see the sky nearby glowing a fiery red.

“Disaster! Someone’s house is on fire!”

He quickened his pace, running toward the small courtyard he shared with Wen Zhiyan. As he turned into their alley, he saw their front gate reduced to ashes.

More importantly, not far from the doorway, Wen Zhiyan stood in her undergarments, her face smeared with soot, tears streaming as she clung to Prince Fu’s embrace.