Chapter Thirty-Eight: Sudden Change

As dawn had just passed, ripples appeared on the surface of the Yangtze River—not snow falling upon the water, for the snow in the capital had yet to reach such abundance. Rather, it was the float bobbing up and down, cast by Pei Xiunian, that stirred the river’s gentle undulations.

Xiao Qin used her powers to hold a crimson oil-paper umbrella over him, crouching nearby as she counted the fish in their basket, delightedly saying, “One, two, three, four... Your Highness is truly remarkable.”

Pei Xiunian glanced back, shrugged lightly, and replied with casual indifference, “They're all small fish, nothing worth mentioning.”

He turned his gaze again to the vast river, relishing this rare moment of leisure. Though it was only temporary, until the next imperial assembly he had little to do; Emperor Zhaoning hadn’t actually confined him to the palace—perhaps he'd simply forgotten.

The court of Great Zhou was never excessively diligent; Emperor Zhaoning preferred to convene minor councils in his study whenever matters arose, a habit likely inherited from the Empress Dowager’s long years of regency.

In short, unless something significant occurred in Great Zhou, assemblies during winter were infrequent—the next one would likely not be until the fifth day of the tenth month.

Thus, Pei Xiunian enjoyed these few days of idleness; the cultivation methods from the Celestial Observatory had yet to arrive, and aside from playing with the chessboard or occasionally sitting in meditation to circulate his qi, he truly had nothing else to occupy him.

Moreover, Pei Xiunian found that without a proper method, his own efforts at cultivation were even slower than the automatic circulation already established within his body; purposeful practice seemed hardly worthwhile.

He wasn’t sure whether he ought to attend the Imperial Academy now, but Pei Xiunian hadn’t gone—he suspected the Academy was full of the Third Prince’s acquaintances, and he might risk exposure.

So today, he simply wandered outside the Forbidden City to the banks of the Yangtze to fish, dressing in ordinary attire to avoid attracting attention.

The riverbank was cold and deserted; after hours of fishing, not a soul appeared in the nearby waterside pavilions, and the solitude gradually took on the melancholy of “fishing alone in the snowy river.”

Such quiet places were ideal for pondering affairs, but Pei Xiunian was not inclined to unravel the tangled threads of the current situation—not when so many had yet to make their moves and guessing their intentions was exhausting.

He did not know whether wisdom dictated self-preservation or confrontation; besides, he had never even met most of the court officials, princes, noble families, and distinguished clans—making it impossible to craft a strategy.

Fortunately, the original Third Prince had never attended court, so Pei Xiunian need not worry about making mistakes in such settings.

Yawning, Pei Xiunian waited a while longer, but no fish bit; he packed up his rod and released the “giant” from the basket back into the river. Rising, he asked Xiao Qin, “Are there any renowned breakfast establishments in the capital around here?”

Xiao Qin, who had been about to present her lunchbox as a treasure, thought for a moment before replying, “Your Highness, nearby there’s the Crispy Fragrance Pavilion—their crab roe soup dumplings are said to be unrivaled. And now that it’s the tenth month, crabs are at their richest.”

Pei Xiunian nodded, “We’re still at leisure today. Let’s walk the streets.”

Xiao Qin hurried off to bring the horses.

They rode calmly along the main avenue of the capital, their pace leisurely. Pei Xiunian could finally appreciate the splendor of this feudal imperial city: pavilions and towers lined the streets in neat succession, the avenues broad enough for several carriages to travel side by side with ease.

Shops of every variety jostled for attention, with squads of brocade-clad guards patrolling, and flags fluttering from the eaves of watchtowers.

From the teahouses came the sharp crack of the storyteller’s gavel, as the raconteurs spun tales of the martial world—Pei Xiunian slowed his horse, just catching:

“…Now, this monster was born with ten heads and a hundred tails, its body towering several yards tall—see, it was even larger than the ancient tree in the courtyard! Such a beast, unheard of, was slain within moments by the combined efforts of the Third Prince and Lady Jiang!”

“They say after this battle, the Third Prince gained enlightenment overnight and advanced two realms in a single morning!”

The teahouse erupted:

“How do you know this?”

“Master Qi just returned from Hangzhou—how could he not know? The tale’s spread all through Hangzhou! News in the capital is so slow…”

“Tell us the details, Master Qi! How was the monster slain?”

“Who would’ve thought the Third Prince, a royal, had such strength?”

“Yeah, tell us more!”

The storyteller struck the gavel and grinned, “To know what happened next… If any gentleman here orders another two pots of fine tea, I’ll tell you everything! It was a move that shook heaven and earth!”

Pei Xiunian shook his head helplessly, amused. He hadn’t expected teahouses to resort to bundled sales, nor his own deeds to be so mythologized.

One could only imagine how the story of his reclaiming Yun Chuan would be told.

Passing the teahouse, they rode by the long queue outside the Crispy Fragrance Pavilion, but Pei Xiunian did not stop. Xiao Qin nudged her horse nearer and whispered, “Your Highness?”

Pei Xiunian, lost in thought, came to his senses and said decisively, “I’ll go to the Celestial Observatory.”

With that, he rode off down the avenue. Xiao Qin uttered a faint “Ah,” unsure whether to follow or wait, but ultimately she dismounted, tied her reins, and queued forlornly at the end of the line.

The capital’s thoroughfares were vast and interconnected; having traversed them once and relying on his Heavenly Eye, Pei Xiunian quickly reached the Celestial Observatory’s Tower of Heaven.

As before, no one stopped him—his path was unobstructed.

He ascended to the top floor, only to find the Grand Fatekeeper absent.

Instead, there sat a girl with a ponytail, clad in broad-sleeved training robes of deep red, cheeks bulging as she chewed, sitting cross-legged atop the railing.

Her lower half was free of complicated skirts; her slender legs were tucked in loose cotton stockings.

She turned and muttered indistinctly, “You’re here…”

Only the Junior Fatekeeper and the Grand Fatekeeper could linger atop the Tower of Heaven without concern—Pei Xiunian, recognizing her, saluted, “Greetings, Senior Sister. Where is the Grand Fatekeeper?”

Luo Xiaoning hopped down from the railing, tossed a stack of empty steamers onto the eight-trigram stone table, and replied nonchalantly, “Teacher’s gone to see an old friend; he’ll be back soon. He told me to hand over the cultivation method to the Third Prince. I was about to go to the Forbidden City to find you, but you’ve come yourself—perfect timing.”

With that, Luo Xiaoning pulled from her sleeve a thin, untitled book and handed it to him.

Pei Xiunian accepted the method, pondering whether to discuss the matter of the gazette with this seemingly scatterbrained Junior Fatekeeper—he truly doubted whether she was the Grand Fatekeeper’s apprentice.

Yet he had indeed seen her sitting atop a nearby rooftop the other day.

Luo Xiaoning sidled up, grinning, “Anything else? I can relay it to Teacher.”

Pei Xiunian nodded silently, unwilling to make another trip; he took out the Hangzhou gazette and placed it on the table, stating plainly, “This is the gazette piloted in Hangzhou, recording martial tales and court news. The trial was successful, so I came to seek the Grand Fatekeeper’s opinion.”

“The Celestial Observatory is renowned and adept at divining the heavens; compiling such a gazette should be effortless.”

Luo Xiaoning glanced at it, then demurred, “We’re very busy at the Observatory…”

Pei Xiunian interjected, “It’s profitable—if you doubt it, you can ask the Hangzhou branch.”

Departments like theirs surely lacked funding; not to mention the Divine Machine Battalion, the cost of alchemy and talisman crafting was immense.

After the war with Qingqiu, Great Zhou’s treasury was so depleted that even pouring pills down one’s throat wouldn’t suffice—where would the surplus be found to support the Observatory?

Luo Xiaoning hesitated noticeably, then asked, “How much profit would we get?”

Pei Xiunian hadn’t settled on a split himself; the Observatory’s contribution was substantial, while his side merely facilitated official distribution, with negligible costs.

He replied, “Please inform the Grand Fatekeeper and let him decide. Since the government is involved in sales, it can’t be entirely pro bono; some should replenish the treasury…”

“Mm, mm.” Luo Xiaoning nodded enthusiastically, “I’ll tell Teacher.”

The more Pei Xiunian observed her, the more unreliable she seemed, but with the Grand Fatekeeper absent, there was nothing to be done.

Still, if the Junior Fatekeeper truly was as carefree as she appeared, at least there would be less intrigue over the chessboard’s delivery.

With that thought, he rose, bid farewell to Luo Xiaoning, and descended the Tower of Heaven.

Through the window, he glimpsed an exquisite carriage waiting outside the Celestial Observatory: its body of black nanmu wood was intricately carved and painted, a marvel of craftsmanship.

Silk draped its sides, golden and jeweled window frames veiled by pale vermilion gauze, unable to conceal the noble aura within.

It was plainly the conveyance of imperial kin. As Pei Xiunian stepped from the tower, barely steady on his feet, he saw a familiar face—a middle-aged palace maid gestured, “Please.”

“Get in.”

The Empress Dowager’s cold voice came from within the carriage. From her tone alone, Pei Xiunian sensed something momentous had happened; obediently, he stepped inside, taking his seat.

Before he could settle, the woman across from him—shoulders draped in fox fur, clad in fitted yellow brocade, her face obscured by fine gauze—spoke softly,

“The Fifth Prince is dead.”