Chapter Sixty-One: Preparations in Full Swing (Part One)

After the three days of imperial examinations ended, some scholars from out of town, sensing they had no hope of appearing on the list, began to leave the capital city one after another. The city no longer felt crowded, yet, with the Mid-Autumn Festival approaching, its bustle and splendor surpassed even that of ordinary days.

Certain pleasure boats and brothels, as well as gatherings hosted by renowned scholars, high officials, and aristocrats, began sending out invitations for their Mid-Autumn banquets to the scholars who remained in the capital, awaiting the announcement of results. These scholars eagerly accepted, seeing these occasions as rare opportunities to showcase their talents, befriend distinguished figures, and perhaps win the favor of beautiful women.

Naturally, the examination question set by Yang Yaozong—consisting of nothing but a blank sheet of paper—sparked much discussion throughout the city. Yet the event that caused the greatest sensation was the attempted assassination on the night of the tenth day of the eighth month: the King’s eldest son had invited the northern scholars to a banquet at Drunken Red Dust after the exams, and upon leaving the establishment, he was attacked. Thanks to the intervention of Yin Ruxin and the prince’s guards, the assassin only managed to wound the prince, but one of the prince’s guards was killed. As the commotion spread, the enforcers from Drunken Red Dust rushed out to help, and the assassin, failing in his attempt, had no choice but to flee.

Yang Yaozong had been staying at the general store for some time, and he received news of the attack on the prince almost immediately. He summoned Foxmouth, the captain of the Fox Squad who had been keeping watch over the prince, to inquire about the details. According to Foxmouth, Foxear happened to be posing as a customer leaving Drunken Red Dust, walking a short distance ahead of the prince. The assassin struck just as the prince stepped out and was bidding farewell to his companions—the attack came from directly in front, swift and deadly. It was only because Yin Ruxin, standing beside the prince, noticed the threat and called out while shoving the prince aside that the fatal thrust intended for the prince’s heart struck his left shoulder instead. The assassin drew back for a second strike, but a guard threw himself in front of the prince. The assassin’s swordsmanship was formidable, his strength impressive; he shattered the guard’s blocking blade and ran his sword through the man’s heart, killing him on the spot.

This brief moment was enough for the prince to be dragged back inside Drunken Red Dust. By then, the enforcers from the establishment had rushed out, gathering around the prince. Seeing no further chance, the assassin decisively fled southward.

The entire incident transpired in a flash. Though many constables patrolled the area, when Yin Ruxin raised the alarm, they could only react as the assassin was already escaping. Agile and swift, the assassin bounded through the crowds still enjoying themselves by the Qinhuai River, not yet aware of the chaos. By the time the assassin broke free of the crowd and ran south, only then did the people realize what had happened and scatter in panic, inadvertently blocking the constables, the prince’s guards, and Foxmouth from pursuing. Thus, the assassin vanished into the night, leaving no trace.

Neither Foxmouth nor Foxear saw the assassin’s face; they glimpsed only a tall, slender figure in black, wearing a bamboo hat draped with black gauze. There was no way to tell whether the assailant was male or female.

It was now midday on the eleventh day of the eighth month when Yang Yaozong, having just returned from visiting the prince at the King’s Residence, entered the small back room of the general store. Jing Yijun was already seated in her usual place, her beautiful eyes fixed intently on him as soon as he came into view.

Yang Yaozong sat down, took a sip of cool tea, then reclined on the low couch, closing his eyes to rest.

Jing Yijun, too, had heard of the assassination attempt. She and the crown prince had intercepted the news as soon as it reached the palace the night before, ensuring it would not reach the emperor. She had wanted to leave the palace at once to discuss the matter with Yang Yaozong, but her duties kept her attending the emperor that night. So she came to the shop early in the morning, only to find Yang Yaozong had already gone to the King’s Residence after changing clothes at the Nangong Residence. Thus, the two only met now.

Yang Yaozong had not rested well recently, and last night he had not slept at all. Noting his exhaustion, Jing Yijun refrained from questioning him about the assassination, patiently waiting for him to speak when he was ready.

After a brief rest, Yang Yaozong, eyes still closed, recounted in a deep but clear voice the details of the prince’s close brush with death. “I just returned from visiting him,” he continued. “He is indeed wounded.” He tapped his own left shoulder. “I saw the bandages soaked with blood—though I couldn’t see the wound, judging from his complexion, he must have lost a significant amount.”

He raised his right hand to his forehead, lightly rubbing it, and asked, seemingly to Jing Yijun but also to himself, “Who would want to assassinate the prince? Why was he attacked? Why in a place as crowded as Drunken Red Dust?” His thoughts grew increasingly agitated as he failed to make sense of it all.

Jing Yijun, after listening to his account, merely snorted, narrowing her eyes as she gazed fiercely at Drunken Red Dust through the blinds. With a note of disdain, she remarked, “You are too close to the matter to see clearly.”

Yang Yaozong stopped rubbing his forehead, frowned, and propped himself up to look at her in confusion. “How am I involved? What has this to do with me?”

She shot him a cool glance. “Did I say it had anything to do with you?”

He rolled his eyes back at her. “But you said I’m too close to the matter.”

Turning her gaze once more to Drunken Red Dust, her voice icy, Jing Yijun asked, “Do you remember when I told you that Yin Ruxin’s skills are on par with mine?”

From what Yang Yaozong knew, Yin Ruxin did not possess martial skills; rather, it was a woman who looked strikingly similar to her—perhaps an older or younger sister—who did. But Yin Ruxin had never mentioned having a sister, and he had promised not to reveal to Yin Ruxin that he had met her lookalike. Now, hearing Jing Yijun broach the subject again, he smiled evasively, curious as to what she would say next.

Noting his perfunctory smile, Jing Yijun fixed him with a cold stare. “You still don’t believe Yin Ruxin is skilled in martial arts, and as skilled as I am? Think about it: I investigated her for so long, and even I, sensing danger, dared not get too close and thus made little progress. Not because I feared her, but because I didn’t want to alert her. For someone with her abilities to hide behind the façade of a courtesan and have frequent contact with the prince—she must have an ulterior motive. And if I had never displayed my skills in front of you, would you have guessed, or believed, that I was so accomplished?”

Yang Yaozong straightened and studied Jing Yijun intently, his gaze making her uncomfortable. He pondered her words carefully. Indeed, if she had not revealed her martial prowess, he would never have suspected it. But if Yin Ruxin truly possessed such extraordinary skills? He glanced at Jing Yijun, analyzing.

She noticed the change in his eyes and said calmly, “You have guessed my meaning, haven’t you?”