Chapter 83: Unable to Bear

The blizzard rare in decades over Dingjing stopped at dawn the next day. Snow knee-deep—so cold even the keenest vendors stayed on warm kang rather than brave the wind.
The night-watchman Li missed his hour—grabbed gong, hurried out. Sun not risen, light dim—he tightened his ragged coat, plodded through snow. Unhurried he passed Prince Yu's gate.
The great doors stood slightly ajar—a crack. Half the "joy" character remained. No guards—Li puzzled. Prince Yu's men were fierce; they had scolded him often—today none. Then he remembered: yesterday the prince took a bride—guards and servants probably drunk on feast wine.
Thinking of the girl's unknown fate in the mansion, Li shook head and meant to pass. Cold wind blew—the heavy door creaked; the black crack widened. Li froze. Door swayed creak creak—strange feeling rose—he could not name it—stood straight at the gate half a watch until vendors passing called: "Li Fourth—what you standing there for?"
Li's heart jumped—understood the strange feeling. Broad daylight—even if last night was wild—why not a sound in the house? Drunk asleep—still dogs? Birds in cages? Nothing. Dead quiet—like a tomb.
Hands trembling he stepped forward—at the black crack thick stench hit—almost staggered. He pushed—door would not move—looked down—in the crack a square block of ice and snow.
Last night's blizzard piled at the threshold perhaps.
Li's eyes widened—stumbled back two steps—screamed—street turned to look.
First ray of dawn—the crystal ice block clear—thick blood frozen from the crack winding an ice river—stopped just before crossing the threshold. Like someone hunted to the end struggling for life—cut off by one door.
Like flowing blood.
……
Prince Yu's mansion was wiped out the day the princess consort entered—servants, concubines, cats, dogs, chickens—not one left. Killers bore blood feud—slaughter clean. One stroke death—gold and jewels untouched—not for money.
Prince Yu cruel, many enemies—who struck? Bold indeed—strike Prince Yu, strike Ming Qi's imperial kin. All knew Wenhui favored this brother most—Prince Yu's impunity in capital—even princes feared him—throne behind.
This time—all surprised. Wenhui issued no desperate hunt, no bounty—only ordered investigation, handed to Dingjing's metropolitan magistrate. The magistrate handled affairs adequately; detecting cases—mediocre. Wenhui's move clearly did not want much mind on the massacre. Clever men saw the thread—Prince Yu must have angered Wenhui before—else such coldness. Perhaps Wenhui secretly rejoiced the killer removed his thorn.
Guess was guess, rumor rumor—mouth to mouth—some far from truth, some uncannily close.
One survivor in the massacre—yesterday's bride Shen Qing. Li was first to sense wrong at dawn—crowd on street—bold ones entered in groups. What they saw—even hearing secondhand raised the hair.
They said—the vast mansion dense with ice corpses and blood clots. Blood filled courtyards; blizzard froze it fast—whole ground red ice. Corpses frost-faced, hard as sculpture.
Everywhere—dead silence—not one alive.
Prince Yu's body in his bedchamber—blade through chest—two maids beside. Shen Qing collapsed at the door—gold and silver spilled—as if fleeing. First they thought her dead too—moved her—she woke. Shen Qing alone lived in all Prince Yu's house.
For Shen Qing—perhaps blessing, perhaps worse than death. Whole mansion dead—why only Shen Qing? If innocence—why spare not even servants and concubines? Not mercy. Beside her collapse—jewelry scattered along the path—like escape.
More—besides chest wound, woman's hairpin mark on Prince Yu's neck. New bride Shen Qing—most suspect.
Doubts made her target—nine mouths could not explain. No choice—everyone dead, she lived.
Metropolitan men must take Shen Qing—guilty or not, sole witness. Clues—even for show before the world—Shen Qing could not slip free easily.
Shen house learned when officers already at the mansion. Ren Wanyun fainted hearing; Shen Gui and Yuan hurried to dress and leave.
"Yuan—where now?" Shen Gui uncertain before his son. Qing entangled regardless of truth—Wenhui not raging now—but serve emperor, tiger companion—who knew true thought—later blame would harm his career.
Yuan said cold: "Metropolitan magistrate. Mansion too late—Sister taken—magistrate knows inside story." Glanced at Shen Gui. "Father need not fear—won't fall on Father's head."
Shen Gui heard sarcasm—annoyed—pretended not to, said: "Then hurry."
Meanwhile Luo Xueyan and Shen Xin prepared to leave.
"Qiu—go to prince's mansion. Second brother to patrol office, third to palace for news. Someone must watch mansion side." Luo Xueyan ordered. "Father and I enter palace—matter grave—if spies in city, disaster. Negotiate with mansion side—investigate our dead—send silver for families."
"Rest easy Mother—leave it to me." Shen Qiu answered bold.
After Shen Xin and wife left, Shen Qiu straightened clothes to go—heard Shen Miao behind: "Brother."
"Sister?" Shen Qiu turned. "Why out—not staying in room?"
"Brother going to prince's mansion?"
"Yes." Shen Qiu said. "Business to handle—back soon when done."
Shen Miao looked at him. "Brother—take me."
Shen Qiu paused, shook head seriously. "Sister—I know your feud with Prince Yu deep. Mansion fallen so—frankly deserved. Want to see with your eyes—Brother sees for you—no need go yourself."
Shen Miao laughed. "I only want to look."
"Nothing to see." Shen Qiu tried scare her. "Hear last night deaths horrible—gutted—blood feet deep. Wronged souls linger—little girl goes—see ghosts." Truth was bad enough—not Shen Qiu's exaggeration—he truly did not want her see gore. General's daughter—why face dead?
After his words Shen Miao unchanged—as if he described ordinary scene—even smiled. "General's children—frightened by dead and ghosts—others would laugh. Brother on battlefield—afraid of dead?"
"Of course not!" Shen Qiu said—knew wrong instantly—Shen Miao calm opposite. "Then nothing to fear—Brother take me."
"No Sister—why go? Really nothing there." Shen Qiu troubled.
"I just look. Brother needn't mind—as you said, officials guard outside—no danger. Take me—no trouble."
Word by word firm. Luo Xueyan recent affairs showed Shen Miao had mind, stubborn—ten oxen won't turn her. Block today—someday she'd sneak alone—better companion now, safer.
"Fine." Shen Qiu stared at her. "At mansion don't wander—Mo Qing follows—anything wrong, call me."
Shen Miao smiled. "Good."
……
One night—the mansion another face inside and out. Yesterday guests and laughter—carriages, smiles. Today red gate white seals—guards grim—fear assassin still violent.
Lonely half "joy" swaying in wind—could not bear cold—fell slow to ground—trampled into snow pit by passing guard—invisible.
Crowds pointed, talked—sigh and hidden satisfaction. Prince Yu's crimes known years—evil meets fruit—fastest joy in the world.
Shen Qiu's party arrived to this. Yesterday's joy versus today's death—contrast dizzying—even Shen Qiu who had seen much felt moved.
Whole house, not one left—too brutal.
Shen Qiu's soldier explained to gate officers—pass through—inside—all speechless.
Servant corpses removed—but last night's blood remained, frozen—terrifying—mansion seemed all crimson. Snow all night could not cover stench. Through red ground—yesterday night's slaughter; almost hear dark cries of despair.
Soldiers uneasy. Shen Qiu frowned hard—remembered Shen Miao beside—turned to comfort—found her calm—steadier than his men.
Shen Miao looked down at crimson. What was this. Enemy blood only excited. Past life Shen house blood must exceed this. No pity, no grief, no fear—wished to laugh skyward, hack Prince Yu's corpse more.
"Sister…" Shen Qiu hesitated. "I investigate—you rest inside?"
Shen Miao looked southwest, smiled faintly. "Yesterday a maid said tea room for rest that way—I'll sit there. Brother find me in tea room when done?"
"That way?" Shen Qiu followed her gaze—southwest trees lush, trimmed fine—Prince Yu's pleasure garden. He nodded. "Mo Qing with you—don't wander."
Shen Miao agreed—walked southwest with Mo Qing. Feared maids frightened by blood—no personal maid today—Mo Qing guard, unafraid.
Mo Qing followed, surprised—Shen Miao knew the way as if home—every corner, corridor, stair—too skilled for one visit yesterday.
With that doubt Shen Miao reached the tea room—hidden behind flowers—grape trellis on frame—summer fruit and wine, flowers and talk—elegant on anyone but Prince Yu felt wrong.
"Wait outside." Shen Miao told Mo Qing. "I go alone."
Mo Qing hesitated. Shen Miao looked. "Just a tea room—if uneasy, enter once with me and search."
Mo Qing bowed at once. "Yes." Sword in arms—entered first.
Shen Miao watched his back—past and present, whatever identity, Mo Qing always careful, loyal.
Tea room large—screens three layers—each lavish—unlike outer elegance, more palace style. Mo Qing searched thoroughly—no assassin hidden—bowed to Shen Miao. "Call if needed—Mo Qing guards outside." Left.
After Mo Qing gone Shen Miao to table—blue-white porcelain set, fine glaze—seen in palace once. Glanced and passed—first screen, second—third layer.
Third layer—walls full of scrolls. Famous signatures—room worth fortune. Scroll by scroll as if appreciating—stopped before one.
Night Banquet—master Liu Yuan of former dynasty—official feast recorded. Beautiful maids, wine and delicacies, guests merry. Figures vivid, ink refined, colors bright—not outstanding among many—yet Shen Miao stared as if drawn into the scene.
Long she looked—finally reached hand, traced paper slowly, careful— to the feast's protagonist—the portly official's collar.
Collar painted fine—even in painting, seemed to feel the button.
She did feel it.
Fingertip found slight rise unlike rough paper—pressed—soft "click."
Wall of scrolls split in two—secret passage—long corridor, torches bright beyond.
Shen Miao exhaled lightly—no hesitation—lifted skirt, stepped in.
……
Deepest chamber—a coffin, lid open, empty inside. Two men before it—purple robes wind-sharp, white robes snow-bright—Xie Jingxing and Gao Yang.
Xie Jingxing weighed a bright yellow bundle—heavy unknown contents. Gao Yang laughed. "Old dog Prince Yu hid it here—without Chen slaughter last night, finding this would cost effort."
"So wait and pick up scraps." Xie Jingxing said. "Search for more."
Gao Yang agreed, looked around. "Old dog left no guard—place must be secret—besides him none knew."
"Fu clan suspicious." Xie Jingxing lazy. "Wouldn't you hide?"
"I would." Gao Yang fanned gently, smile warm—words terrible. "If I were old dog—anyone finds this place—know secret or not—kill to silence. Dead keep secrets. Old dog did well there."
Xie Jingxing ignored him—searched elsewhere.
Meanwhile Shen Miao torch in hand walked quiet in grim passage—faster than her usual slow step. She did not know when Shen Qiu would come—before he found her she must get the thing.
This secret chamber—Fu Xiuyi discovered it past life. She overheard Fu Xiuyi and Pei Lang. Pei Lang copied Liu Yuan's Night Banquet, told Fu Xiuyi the mechanism on the protagonist's collar. Pei Lang said: "Thing is in chamber—Your Majesty may look."
What "thing" was—Shen Miao did not know—but tone said it mattered greatly to Fu Xiuyi. When she told Chen brothers annihilation— besides no loose ends—for this.
Without annihilation—someone might know the secret—find her action—disaster. Now all dead—secret likely undiscovered—as past life Fu Xiuyi learned only after ascension.
If "thing" important or useful to Fu Xiuyi—must not reach him. Destroy—or give his enemy—one more chip against Fu Xiuyi later.
That was why she came today with Shen Qiu.
Hand on tunnel wall inward—the passage longer than imagined. Another turn—suddenly wide as hall—torches on stone walls blinding bright.
In the chamber—a coffin horizontal—two men standing before it.
Before Shen Miao moved—a sharp shout: "Who!"
Voice familiar—before she parsed—firelight—two backs turned—two familiar faces.
Xie Jingxing. Gao Yang.
Why Xie Jingxing here—Gao Yang palace physician—with Xie Jingxing?
Even calm Shen Miao stunned—then mind chaos. Old doubts circling—suddenly an outlet—lightning—something about to break free.
"Shen Miao!" Gao Yang surprised—looked at Xie Jingxing. "Move!"
Shen Miao eyes widened—world spun—before she saw the blur—body shoved hard—back slammed stone wall—pain sharp in breath. Then slender hand on her throat—Xie Jingxing's handsome face inches away.
Xie Jingxing nearly pressed her into the wall—cold robe on her cheek, cold hand—sun-bright brows and lips that could enchant—yet eyes sober near cruel.
"Shen Miao cannot live." Gao Yang rapid. "Grave matter—her bad luck dying here—body in chamber—we leave—none know. Third Xie—no soft heart—do it!"
Shen Miao looked at Xie Jingxing—neck hand long and fine—brutal grip, tight.
Purple-clad youth's features deeper in firelight—every stroke spirit from painting—more beautiful, smile more cruel—cat and mouse—absolute indifference and killing intent.
He truly meant to kill her.
Shen Miao unmoving—clear eyes brighter than spring meltwater after first snow—no joy no grief—as if a whole life reflected.
Xie Jingxing's eyes flickered—suddenly curved lips—other hand gently covered her eyes. He leaned close to her ear—lover's whisper, low:
"Don't look at me—I won't bear to."