Chapter 201 – Chang Geng Falls from the Cliff

Zhou Ci had just seen Zheng Feng'an off and had not yet settled back into a kneeling position. At the sudden sound of Li Ce's words, he froze in place like a statue carved from ice. A long moment passed before he could summon a look of frantic panic and pitiful weakness. Forgetting even to lift his robes, he dropped to his knees and declared,

"I confess my guilt, Your Highness."

Li Ce's imposing presence needed no wrath to command fear; his gaze pierced straight into the soul. He asked coldly,

"Then speak—what crimes have you committed?"

Overwhelmed with shame, Zhou Ci replied,

"My first sin is failing to detect the Crown Prince's illicit possession of a repeating crossbow.

My second sin is negligence in governing, which led to civil unrest and caused alarm to Your Majesty.

My third sin lies in the lax oversight of the prison, where a poisoning occurred, resulting in catastrophe."

Each of these crimes alone was enough to strip him of office and rank. Zhou Ci was undoubtedly guilty—but Li Ce believed there was one more crime to name.

"Fourth," Li Ce said, his voice sharp as a falling blade,

"You conspired to murder a court official—Ye Chang Geng, Langzhong of the Ministry of Works."

These words struck Zhou Ci like a bolt from the blue. He trembled uncontrollably, his expression one of disbelief and dread. Closing his eyes tightly, he forced them open again with great effort and insisted,

"I dare not! I have committed no such crime!"

"No?" Li Ce echoed with a chilling smile tucked into his tone. "You deny it?"

He rose, paced slowly to the window, and clasped his hands behind his back.

"Prefect Zhou," he murmured as he gazed at the lush wutong tree outside, its blossoms scattered by the passing storm. He forced his agitation back down with effort. "I asked the rebels for one night—and I grant the same to you. By tomorrow's hour of Chen, I want Ye Chang Geng standing before me, alive and unharmed. If not—"

He turned, his face a mask of murderous intent, though his voice remained calm and low:

"Then tomorrow shall mark the day of your execution."

Strangely, Zhou Ci grew calmer in the face of Li Ce's wrath. He responded with bitter defiance,

"Through years of hardship and study I passed the imperial exams. I served diligently, won favor, and was granted authority over this province in the name of the Emperor. To investigate my crimes, there is the Court of Judicial Review and the Censorate. To pass judgment, there are the laws of Great Tang and His Majesty himself. Prince of Chu—do you mean to usurp imperial authority?"

By the end, Zhou Ci's back had straightened. His servility faded, replaced by a subtle scorn in his eyes.

Li Ce glanced at him with narrowed eyes and pressed lips, unchanging in expression but stern in voice:

"Tomorrow. Hour of Chen."

It was both a warning and a final reprieve.

The air was clean, laced faintly with the scent of incense. The floor gleamed, furniture arranged in perfect order. The bed was small but soft to the touch. Silence reigned, save for the occasional chirp of birds and whisper of wind.

This could either be a secluded wing of some wealthy estate—or a remote mountain retreat.

Ye Chang Geng's right arm was bound to the bedpost, and his left instinctively reached for his eyes. A layer of gauze covered them.

He had tried removing it when he first awoke from unconsciousness. Just as he had feared, the poisonous dust had seared his eyes—he could no longer see.

To be struck blind in his prime, powerless to protect his mother and sister—it filled him with a rage too bitter to bear.

But now was not the time for fury. His head throbbed with heat, his body limp and drained. He lay motionless like a corpse.

Then came a breeze—the door had opened.

Ye Chang Geng didn't move, but tensed inwardly. His left hand was free. Though not his dominant hand, it could still form a solid fist.

He listened closely. The footsteps were soft, drawing nearer. The sound of silk brushing with each step—this was a woman.

Ye Chang Geng clenched his fist. When she reached his bedside, he suddenly struck.

But his arm betrayed him. It barely lifted an inch before falling weakly back onto the mattress.

Breath ragged with fear and anger, he demanded,

"Why is my body so weak? Who are you? Are you Zhou Ci's accomplice? I advise you to return me at once—lest you be dragged down with him."

She said nothing. Amid the unbearable silence, he felt something cool press against his forehead—soft, yet steady with the warmth of a human palm.

A woman's hand.

Ye Chang Geng turned his head to reject her touch. She leaned closer and whispered,

"Don't move."

Two simple words—but they made him tremble.

His expression twisted with disbelief and confusion. After a long pause, he sighed with a voice tinged with disillusionment and faint sorrow:

"So it's you."

"It is," the woman said gently. "Which is why Zhou Ci is unworthy of being my accomplice."

Indeed, a mere Prefect of Jinzhou could never match a princess of Tibet.

Though blinded, Ye Chang Geng saw clearly in his heart. The moment she spoke, he recognized Gesang Meiduo.

The crossbows hidden in the cave were remnants from battles between the Northwest Army and Tibetans. And those assassins—they were from the northwest.

"So your true accomplice is Prince Wei, Li Chen. When did this begin?"

A basin rested near the bed. Gesang Meiduo seated herself naturally at his side, took a towel from the water, wrung it out, and placed it gently on his forehead.

"No need for this!" Ye Chang Geng turned his head away sharply, but she gently cradled his ear, guiding him back.

"The general must survive—before anything else can be done," she coaxed in a tender voice, as though they were intimate enough for such closeness. "And if you behave, I'll answer your questions."

Though Ye Chang Geng had long left the Ministry of War, she still called him "General," just like she had the day they met.

The atmosphere was strange—soft, yet unsettling.

She replaced the towel on his brow, then took another to gently wipe his neck. Her voice was low and soothing:

"I began working for Li Chen the moment you told me I could befriend the nobility of the capital. That was when it all started."

He remembered now. It was at a small feast in Prince Zhao's residence, where Gesang Meiduo had arrived uninvited and gifted him a jeweled dagger. When he escorted her home, she had said she wished to acquaint herself with Tang's aristocracy. He'd replied casually,

"There are many powerful figures in court. Since Your Highness seeks acquaintance, perhaps take advantage of the coming festivals to pay some visits."

So that's when it began—her alliance with Li Chen.

Ye Chang Geng shifted his arm slightly. The space inside his sleeve was empty—his dagger was gone.

Gesang Meiduo continued to tend to him with quiet care, even wiping behind his ears. Her movements were precise, as if she wished to ease his discomfort.

Sightless, Ye Chang Geng recalled their first meeting—how she had once treated his wounds with the same tenderness and charm. That night was filled with wolves, flames, and blood, yet it had been more exhilarating than now.

"Did you kill those villagers?" he asked coldly.

The warm towel paused at his lips, then moved slowly across his cheek.

"Of course not," Gesang Meiduo said. "I do not stain my hands with evil."

"Then it was you who incited the brawl in Big Huai Tree Village, planted the crossbows, and framed the Crown Prince. And," Ye Chang Geng's voice grew colder, "it was you who had Peng Jinrui's only son thrown in prison—so you could kill him. That's why Peng Jinrui now camps at the Yellow River, demanding the Crown Prince be punished."

With a sharp splash, Gesang Meiduo tossed the towel into the basin, droplets wetting Ye Chang Geng's fingers.

"In your heart," she said with a trace of wounded sorrow,

"Am I truly so vile?"