"How could it be of any concern?" an insider sighed with a mixture of pity and resignation. "Would they risk the lives of the entire clan to join a rebellion?" Indeed, if they had interfered, the Duke's Mansion would have long since been dismantled.
Liu Yan returned to organize the case files, unable but to admire the emperor's foresight. Summoning Prince Su, Li Long, back was a shrewd decision. After all, he had spearheaded the suppression of the rebellion and undoubtedly knew many secrets.
Without pause, Liu Yan hurried to visit Prince Su. The prince's household had already departed for their fief, leaving only Li Long, summoned by imperial decree, with few attendants. Li Long invited Liu Yan to sit and personally brewed tea with a smile: "Pray tell, how may I be of assistance?"
Liu Yan cut straight to the point, inquiring whether he knew Sima Cheng'en from the late Prince Chen's residence.
"A Daoist," Li Long replied.
To jog his memory, Liu Yan added that detail deliberately. Li Long furrowed his brow, pondering deeply before shaking his head: "I do not know him."
Liu Yan, clutching his tea cup, was struck dumb. His temperament was reserved, ill-suited to subtle social maneuvers or insinuations. He had assumed Li Long would feign ignorance to distance himself, but never expected an outright denial. How could he not know? As a prince of the realm, summoned or not, Sima Cheng'en was effectively Prince Chen's mouthpiece—his envoy to court officials and a messenger of secrets.
Twelve years ago, the emperor had only two adult sons: the eldest, Li Long, and the second, Li Zhang. Regardless of their influence, Sima Cheng'en had visited and befriended both. But Li Long's denial left Liu Yan helpless.
With a troubled brow, Liu Yan left and, passing the residence of Prince Zhao, Li Jing, suddenly remembered he had an ally. Being brothers, surely Li Jing would be more approachable? Yet Li Ce cautioned that even his inquiry would change nothing.
Kneeling amid the heavy scent of medicinal herbs, Liu Yan watched Li Ce drain bowl after bowl of herbal decoction with growing disappointment. No one wished to offend those in power, especially one whose health was so fragile. To survive was a feat in itself, let alone be embroiled in palace intrigue. As the capital whispered, the Ninth Prince was but a living corpse.
Liu Yan sat sullenly, regretful but silent. Seeing Li Ce leaf through the files, he rose and said, "If that is the case, I shall take my leave."
Li Ce did not rise to see him out but instead pointed at a certain passage in the documents: "Come, look at this."
Puzzled, Liu Yan lowered his gaze, then leaned in, astonished—so moved that he nearly jostled Li Ce aside. "How could the prince have conceived this?" His voice brimmed with awe and excitement, clearly sensing the key to unraveling the case.
Li Ce smiled knowingly. "Let us pursue this lead."
The clue was Sima Cheng'en's property deeds. Before becoming a monk, Sima Cheng'en had purchased farmland and houses near the capital. Over the years, the land remained cultivated, but the houses changed hands several times, sold to others. This was most unusual. Who had leased out these lands? Who had sold his homes? The deceased cannot trade. Others presumed Sima Cheng'en was merely wandering and dared not meddle with his property. Only those certain of his death dared to act.
Before parting, Liu Yan cast Li Ce a deep, earnest glance. "Prince Chu is astute; he must cherish his health."
Poor with words and indifferent to pleasantries, Liu Yan's cheeks flushed slightly as he clutched the files and hurried away.
No sooner had Liu Yan left than Li Long summoned the mansion's steward for a meeting.
"It truly involves Sima Cheng'en," he said, no longer composed, gripping his cup as sweat beaded on his brow.
"Who discovered it?" Li Long demanded, slamming the cup down when the steward remained silent.
The steward bowed his head. "Prince Chu, Li Ce."
Li Long's face stiffened like iron, then he sneered coldly after a moment: "It seems someone finds their own life too long." He had thought Li Ce too frail to be a threat, but the brother's cunning had struck a venomous blow.
This was not Li Ce's first act of sabotage—from thwarting his marriage to Ye Jiao, to obstructing the archery on the Imperial Street, Li Ce had persistently undermined him. Li Long's mercy had bred this presumption of weakness.
Scheming how to silence Li Ce, the steward hesitated, concerned about another matter.
"Your Highness," he ventured carefully, "since Sima Cheng'en has been uncovered, what of those connected to him...?"
Li Long sat quietly, regaining composure. Before silencing Li Ce, he must first silence his associates.
"Bring Zhang Li," he ordered, his mind heavy.
The steward hurried off and returned after some time, pale-faced. Zhang Li, Li Long's loyal guard who had accompanied him through life's perils and handled the less savory tasks, was missing.
"He was just outside," the steward said.
Hearing of Sima Cheng'en, Zhang Li had fled. Though Li Long disliked dwelling on it, he sensed the gravity of the matter.
"Find him! Investigate his family. I recall he has a relative ordained in Lishan," Li Long commanded. "Even if dead, he must not fall into others' hands."
The Prince Su residence teetered on the brink, and the Duke's Mansion showed no respite.
For three days, Ye Jiao toiled in the rear courtyard training ground, mixing concoctions of realgar, cinnabar, red clay, and white lead to construct an alchemy furnace. She labored tirelessly, and the household rallied to aid her. Maids gathered materials, servants wielded shovels, even the limping Feng Jie scrutinized the recipe, advising how to blend the "Six-One Clay" evenly.
When the work concluded, they inquired, "Miss, what is this for?"
"To refine an elixir," Ye Jiao declared solemnly.
The news startled Madam Ye. One Daoist in the family sufficed; there was no need for a nun. Ye Rou corrected her mother: female Daoists were called "nüguan," not nuns. Madam Ye nearly leapt in vexation. Must they bicker over names? When would she finally hold a grandson in her arms?
Ye Rou soothed her mother, assuring that Ye Jiao's constant company of Li Ce hardly suggested a vow of celibacy.
Madam Ye calmed, then stepped to the courtyard furnace, seeing Ye Jiao stoking charcoal beneath.
"What are you..." she inquired, approaching cautiously, observing her daughter's solemn expression. "What elixir are you brewing?"
"A life-saving remedy," Ye Jiao replied without pause, already heading out to purchase herbs.
She had consulted Feng Jie, who confirmed Sima Cheng'en's alchemical skills and remembered much of the formula once discussed with Ye Jiao's father.
Ye Jiao's plan was clear: to concoct a medicine that would heal Li Ce. Once restored, the pleasures denied him would be easily won—dancers perched on laps would be mere trifles.
Following the prescribed ratios, Ye Jiao commenced the refinement. Three furnaces blazed, all ending in failure.
Madam Ye feared this path futile and sent for Li Ce.
"Our family is robust and hale; why resort to medicines?" Madam Ye mused. "Most likely, the medicine is for Prince Chu." She sighed, "Justice must be served; summon Prince Chu quickly, lest we all suffer."
Indeed, the Duke's Mansion reeked daily with pungent, acrid odors, rendering it nearly uninhabitable.
Arriving at Guangde Lane, Li Ce noticed the usually bustling street deserted. Curious, he spotted a beggar tiptoeing expectantly toward the Duke's Mansion.
Li Ce's retinue asked the beggar, "What are you watching?"
The beggar grinned, "Waiting... listening for the sound."
What sound? Li Ce presented his calling card and entered, just as a thunderous explosion rocked the earth and shook the buildings.
He dashed inside, guided urgently through the servants to the backyard, where a collapsed alchemy furnace lay.
Behind it stood a woman in red, her face smeared with soot, her crooked bun askew, clutching a scrap of paper, scolding, "Why did it explode again? Didn't we say no sulfur or saltpeter?"
It was Ye Jiao. Li Ce stood stunned.
She saw him and tossed the paper into the ashes with a smile revealing gleaming teeth.
"What are you doing here? Wait, let me wash up, then I'll take you for some good food," she said, pulling at him.
Li Ce did not move away. He stepped closer, retrieved the crumpled paper, and slowly unfolded it, eyes tracing the uneven characters:
"Gold, silver, copper, iron, tin, cinnabar, realgar, mica, azurite..."
The "Five Metals and Eight Minerals" — the very formula he had mentioned.
Lowering his head, his voice slowed, weighed with gravity, "Ye Jiao, are you making medicine for me?"