Chapter 601

Another side paused for a while, then sent another message: "You've traced it all the way to Yu Sicong?"

"Yes. Qu Chang was the one who handled it back then. If we'd found this man, many things would've become clear—but Yu Sicong killed him." Pei Ye briefly recounted the matter of the Jade Frost Garden, "Now I can only rely on fragmented scrolls and elderly outsiders unaware of the truth, searching for traces… I feel this approach is ineffective. Since Yu Sicong is still there, it's better to act directly against him."

"Good thinking. You might one day lead the Crane-Class First Division."

"... Don't distract me. I'm asking seriously." Pei Ye flipped through the documents, trying to extract a few more names.

"I'm not distracting you. Indirect is worse than direct; investigation is worse than action. It's fine." Xu Chuo's calm voice seemed to echo in his mind, "But investigating Yu Sicong inside the palace is indeed difficult and dangerous."

"What do you mean?"

"Yu Sicong has lived over fifty years, forty of them inside the palace. He never stepped beyond the Chengtian Gate, yet his name alone instills fear in the court. Now you've come straight to his nest—and still ask 'what do you mean'?" Xu Chuo sent a long message, "He has a private residence in the Southern Palace Attendants' Office, a privilege no other minister in the court enjoys. He nearly controls every affair within the Great Ming Palace. Your mission to the Northern Frontier to investigate Prince Yan is roughly the same scale."

"Forty years… Tell me about this man."

"Yu Sicong has no clan or family—he's the kind of solitary minister people dread. Because of this, few have any way to understand him; most courtiers perceive him as cruel, ruthless, and capricious. He entered the palace at thirteen, when the reigning emperor was not today's Son of Heaven. He served in the late emperor's court for over a decade, then rose to power during the succession, becoming the Grand Supervisor of the Palace Attendants' Office. Since then, he has been our dynasty's first powerful eunuch, his authority growing without limit—he commands the Imperial Guards, inspects the Three Palaces… Even now, no one knows how far his reach extends."

"So if anyone wants to act within the palace, they must go through him?"

"At least in my memory, yes."

Pei Ye nodded, flipping through several pages of blueprints. After a while, he marked a few names—but they were either mentioned in passing as laborers or noted in trivial scribbles like "paid so many taels to the kitchen cook." He carefully turned further back, seeking a position like overseer or Xiguan Ling.

"Yu Sicong's residence is in the northwest corner of the Palace Attendants' Office, adjacent to the Southern Pond. He himself resides within the palace. But if you truly intend to act against him, better take a detour—use another person as a bridge to gain leverage."

"Who?"

"Yu Yu Ziliang."

Pei Ye fell into thought.

"Yu Yu Ziliang also frequently appears in the palace. Yu Sicong dotes on this adopted son—but he's a rare kind of precious fool." Xu Chuo said, "From him, you can learn much about Yu Sicong. No one dares target him for fear of retaliation—but since you're already planning to act against Yu Sicong himself, you needn't care."

"I see. Does he have a known routine?"

"He usually follows Li Li Yujin. I'll have someone gather details and send them to you today—decide for yourself." Xu Chuo, apparently busy, ended without farewell. The green bird on the left folded its wings and dimmed.

"Understood." Pei Ye refocused, lowering his gaze to the final page in his hand, slowly brushing his brush over the last name.

The name itself was unremarkable, but its placement was odd. It appeared only once, at the very end of the entire dossier, beneath "Verification and Acceptance: Assistant Supervisor Qu Chang," in a separate, hastily scribbled line.

The ink and brushwork differed—written long after the original: "Recheck: Chief Clerk of the Divine Martial Army, Guo You."

Pei Ye closed the dossier, murmuring the name twice.

"You know," Pei Ye sat upright, turning to smile at the kitten, "with this 'Know-Intent,' talking really is much easier."

The black cat showed no expression, glancing at him: "You were always able to speak freely—now you're just avoiding me."

"..."

... It had indeed been the kitten who relayed messages before.

Pei Ye wisely said nothing more, gathered the documents, and walked slowly down the street. Though called the Yeting, it carried the bleak connotation of a prison for disgraced women—but in truth, it was far livelier than the Great Ming Palace, far less cold and solemn.

On the other hand, every affair within the palace passed through these hands. Matters left unresolved in the Great Ming Palace often yielded clues here.

Pei Ye thought carefully, then headed west first. The Immortal Platform's map noted: "West of the Yeting, palace servants dwell intermixed"—exactly the kind of place he favored.

After only a few steps, he saw a dense cluster of alleys—every palace servant wasn't assigned a clear role, not every office could house everyone, and there were also healers, elderly maids, disgraced concubines—many mismatched souls lived in these dozen intersecting alleys.

But the appearance here was far from neat or polished. Long habitation and weathering cracked the stone slabs, sinking them into the earth. Door eaves and courtyards varied in age and size, tightly packed together. The alleys were narrow and deep, the eaves old and black, some still bearing bright red New Year couplets, carrying the quiet charm of time.

In Han times, this was called Yongxiang—perhaps just like this.

Pei Ye walked slowly, then suddenly paused, his gaze fixed on a large courtyard across the alley—the Embroidery Workshop he'd just heard of.

The female official's words were true: indeed, ten ox-carts stood before the gate, each piled high with mountains of fabric.

Palace maids inside frowned as they unloaded piece by piece. A slender embroiderer rolled up her sleeves, lifted two bolts from a cart, turned, and panted: "Qiuyi, come help me!"

A voice came from within: "If you can't carry both, carry one at a time."

"Oh come on, trust me—two people carrying two bolts is faster than one person carrying one!"

"..."

A dozen palace maids kept shuttling back and forth; the cart's load slowly diminished. The oxen watched them with calm, deep eyes.

Pei Ye thought a moment, then walked over and smiled: "Excuse me—do you need help?"

Several maids froze, glancing first at his face, then scanning his attire, lingering slightly on his long sword… then their eyes snapped upward, fixed on the jade-black, adorable kitten perched on his shoulder.

"... Which office are you from?" The slender embroiderer, still holding the two bolts, turned her gaze back to him.

"I'm a guard from Ming Palace, here on some business," Pei Ye smiled, stepping forward and effortlessly shouldering over a dozen bolts, "Let me lend a hand."

The embroiderer's small mouth gaped open in shock: "Th-thank you!"

The maids were delighted, staring as his other hand lifted five or six more bolts, striding confidently into the courtyard.

With this heavenly guard's aid, speed more than doubled. He carried more, moved faster; soon the maids instinctively cleared his path—some stacked fresh bolts beside the carts, others organized the fabric in storage. Ten carts were fully unloaded in less than two hours.

"You've worked so hard, Master Pei! We're deeply grateful!"

"Merely a small favor." Pei Ye sat cross-legged beneath the courtyard, wiping the thin sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. Though the embroiderers hadn't carried much, their arms were already aching; they now moved about, tidying up the final details.

"Master Pei is truly a guard of Ming Palace—your martial skill must be exceptional." An older embroiderer smiled, "Without you, we'd have been utterly overwhelmed."

"Yes, I've never seen a guard from Ming Palace before. What brings you here today, Master Pei?"

"Master Pei, you're a real ox!"

"Ah, Master Pei, you're so flattered you're practically dying of joy."

Pei Ye smiled, sipping tea: "Just some miscellaneous business. Do you often have so much to unload?"

"Not often—but whenever there's a major event, the Embroidery Workshop always gets busy."

"Preparing festival garments?"

"No, we just finished that. Now it's another major event—preparing for the imperial weddings."

"Weddings?"

"Yes. After the New Year, the palace will hold a grand wedding. All ceremonial robes, red veils, and curtains must be ready a month in advance."

"Who's getting married?"

"Huh? You're from Ming Palace—don't you know?"

"I've never heard of it."

"... Actually, I don't know either. I just take orders and work."

The palace had many imperial sons and distant relatives; it was normal for some to reach marriageable age. Pei Ye finished his tea: "By the way, I'm asking about three others: Zhao Wuliang, Xu Si, Wei Qi—the first two were laborers in the Xiguan Bureau, the last a cook. Do any of you know them?"

The embroiderers exchanged blank looks.

"I need to ask them something."

Since Master Pei requested it, the embroiderers began asking each other—but after a full round, all shook their heads. The elder, leading one, said: "I've worked here over twenty years, moved around the palace extensively—I know most palace affairs. I've never heard these names—when were they here?"

"Twenty-four years ago."

"Ah… That's hard. Even if they didn't die of old age or illness, when the Ming Ming Niangniang ascended, there was a general pardon of palace servants—elderly ones are nearly impossible to find."

"I see." Pei Ye nodded. He hadn't expected much. "Then you've surely never heard of this one—formerly a Chief Clerk of the Divine Martial Army, named Guo You."

"..."

Most embroiderers remained confused, but the elder one froze. "If you're looking for this man… he's still here—in the workshop."

"Hmm?"

…

After tasting the Embroidery Workshop's noon meal and sitting idly for over an hour, as the sun began to slant westward, Pei Ye rose, took up his sword, and took his leave.

"You must go to the Teaching Bureau," the female official had said when speaking of Guo You.

She offered to send a maid to guide him, but Pei Ye declined, seeing them busy. As he stepped out the gate, the black cat, who had been hiding atop the wall, leapt onto his shoulder.

As Pei Ye walked this way, the ground grew cleaner, grand pavilions appeared on either side. A dedicated canal flowed before each gate, supplying the courtesans for washing and makeup; greasy, shimmering cosmetics floated on the water. Women from the Laundry Workshop hurriedly drove donkey carts, delivering two huge tubs of washed clothes at the gate. They knelt on the cart's edge, handing down garments one by one, while two courtesans jointly held a large bamboo basket to receive them.

Then he saw it—a stark, out-of-place white hair.

A frail, hunched figure, clad in filthy, long-unwashed clothes. He stood outside the gate, standing on two stacked stones, straining his neck to peer over the wall—like an old tortoise stretching its head.

The women at the gate seemed unaware. Pei Ye stood watching for a while. He made no attempt to climb in—only stared for a moment, then collapsed back in a daze.

Then he struggled to his feet, swaying, and stretched his neck toward the women again, squinting with a hoarse voice: "Two ladies—this place… is it Jingshan?"

"No, go that way," the pretty courtesan waved vaguely, already continuing her conversation with the laundry woman about how to wash different fabrics.

"Then… then… haven't I crossed Yique yet…?" The old man murmured blankly.

He looked up at the western sky, then suddenly burst into tears, collapsing to the ground and wailing: "The sun is already setting! I'll never… never see the Luo Goddess again!"

His wailing was piercing and mournful. Pei Ye watched silently. After a while, the old man staggered to his feet again and dashed east along the canal: "No, no—the sun hasn't set yet… I still have time!"

Pei Ye followed without a word, until the old man reached the canal's end, panting, tear-streaked, and collapsed there, staring fixedly at the northern green garden, murmuring: "Are you Henggao… or Zhitian…?"

Pei Ye squatted beside him: "Are you well?"

The old man whirled his head toward him, fixing his gaze. His face was withered beyond measure—matted, filthy hair, cheeks so thin the bones showed, sunken eye sockets… yet within them glowed a pair of eyes, vacant yet startlingly pure.

"You…" he croaked, suddenly gripping Pei Ye's forearm, then wept again, "Are you my charioteer? Charioteer, I can't see the Luo Goddess—tell me, where is she? Where is she?"

Pei Ye did not pull away, only looked at him steadily: "Guo You—what are you searching for?"