Volume One: The Youngest Among Three Hundred Chapter Twenty-Six: Progress

Chen Chang’an had always believed that Xiaolian’s death was somehow connected to the recent Sanyuan Monastery incident. Yet, because the princess refused to cooperate or speak, the mystery remained unsolved. Now, after watching the live reenactment provided by Peach Blossom, everything became clear. It was common knowledge that Princess Changning had an elder brother named Zhao Yantai, who had died of illness several years prior.

Looking back, it seemed that, as Zhao Yantai lay dying, he feared his naive sister Changning would be wounded in the treacherous world of court politics. Thus, he hid a notebook filled with evidence and secrets about court officials at Sanyuan Monastery.

Recently, the court’s situation must have shifted subtly, prompting Changning to retrieve it under the pretext of fulfilling a vow, just as her brother had instructed.

“I knew it! With her unruly and headstrong nature, she doesn’t even believe in ghosts or spirits—how could she possibly go to fulfill a vow?” Muttering this, Chen Chang’an’s sharp mind continued to analyze.

The group of thieves encountered at the bottom of the dried well was obviously part of a large organization. They’d learned in advance of Changning’s plan to retrieve the notebook and so lay in wait in the Zhenqing Hall at Sanyuan Monastery, hoping to catch her off guard.

No wonder Princess Changning survived three days in captivity without harm; she was never the criminals’ true target. They dared not touch her, lest they cause more trouble for themselves.

So their real target must have been Xiaolian, and their aim remained the notebook containing officials’ secrets. But if they failed to obtain it at the monastery, why not intercept Changning after she had it in hand? They’d known her plan and could easily have waited until she retrieved the item—their success would have been assured.

The fact that they continued to target Changning’s maidservant after supposedly getting the notebook suggested they hadn’t acquired the genuine article, or perhaps—perhaps…

Chen Chang’an could not think of a second plausible explanation. What exactly was going on?

“Peach Blossom’s clues are still not comprehensive enough!” he grumbled.

He decided to reconstruct the entire case in detail, making reasonable assumptions. Their goal was the notebook, though its exact contents were still unknown. The plan began with recruiting Xiaolian as an inside agent.

Xiaolian’s death meant their objective had been achieved, and she was silenced. Then, there was the headless corpse found in the West City forest—committed by the same hand.

What task did they bribe Xiaolian for? Who exactly was the headless corpse? Unravel these two points, and all else would become clear.

“This is troublesome! Everyone knows I was a mechanical engineering student in my last life, not a detective. Investigating a case is really a headache!”

Gulping down an entire pot of tea in one go, Chen Chang’an rose, humming a tune from “Blue-and-White Porcelain” as he made his way toward Princess Changning’s residence, hoping to find more useful clues related to Xiaolian.

“Step right up, don’t miss out! Come see the latest magic trick from Crescent Troupe!”

“Everyone, look closely! Here’s a piece of plain white paper. Next, do you believe I can make writing appear on it?”

Crescent Troupe was one of Chang’an’s most famous performance groups, not only accepting invitations to important banquets but also giving regular street shows by the bridge.

At this moment, nearly a hundred people had gathered. Hearing the performer’s claim, many voiced their doubts: “Impossible, it’s obviously just a blank sheet.”

“If you can really make writing appear out of thin air, I’ll reward your Crescent Troupe with five taels of silver!”

“Ha! A magic trick is just a trick, not real magic. As famous as the Crescent Troupe is, I don’t buy it.”

Surrounded by the crowd, the performer waved the paper and said, “Alright, everyone, keep your eyes wide open and watch carefully!”

With a slow motion, his palm swept across the paper. In the next instant, faint lines of script emerged on the snowy white surface: “May it last forever, may all be safe and well!”

“There really are words! Look, everyone!”

“Incredible! The Crescent Troupe’s trick is amazing! I’ll keep my word—five taels of silver!”

Passing by the bridge, Chen Chang’an caught this bustling scene with his sensitive hearing. Curling his lips, he muttered, “What’s so miraculous about that?”

“You write with starch on the paper and let it dry. Hide some iodine solution in your palm. When you pass your hand over, the writing appears. Nothing to fuss about.”

“No, wait!”

Chen Chang’an suddenly halted, his mind more agile than ever. A trick where writing appears on a blank page… words from nothing!

“So that’s it!”

He slapped the bridge railing in sudden realization, a look of delight on his face. Until now, he’d wondered why, with such a meticulous plan, the thieves didn’t simply take the notebook when Princess Changning first arrived at the monastery. Why abduct her, and why did Xiaolian’s case follow?

What if the writing in the notebook was hidden by some special method, only revealed with a secret known to Princess Changning?

So, the initial operation at Sanyuan Monastery was to obtain the notebook, but killing Xiaolian was to learn the method for revealing its contents.

But… Xiaolian was just a maid. How could she be connected to something so crucial?

“No, I have to return to the princess’s residence!”

Chen Chang’an felt that most of the puzzle pieces were now in place, but one thread was still missing to tie them together.

Guided by his half-blurred vision, as if seeing through a veil of mist, he wove his way through the streets. Half an hour later, he stood before Princess Changning’s residence, and caught sight of a man whose face seemed pixelated, escorted out by a maid.

“Who is he?” Chen Chang’an asked casually.

The maid, knowing the blind son-in-law was investigating Xiaolian’s murder at the princess’s behest, answered respectfully, “That is Xu Hezi, the greatest artist in the Great Min. The princess invited him to paint the empress’s portrait as a birthday tribute.”

“In three days, it will be the Empress’s Longevity Festival, and the princess is preparing a painting as a gift.”

“I see,” Chen Chang’an replied, and walked in.

Behind him, the maid muttered to herself, “Master Xu’s painting skills are truly exquisite. I’m sure Her Majesty will love it.”

“It was actually Xiaolian’s idea to invite him. What a pity…”

Chen Chang’an stopped abruptly, his nerves tensing for no apparent reason. “What… did you just say?”

Startled by his sudden, almost erratic response, the maid stepped back, her clear eyes momentarily dull before she replied, “I said, it was Xiaolian who suggested inviting Master Xu to portrait Her Majesty as a gift. Yesterday afternoon, the princess was at a loss over what to present. None of our ideas pleased her—except Xiaolian’s.”

Chen Chang’an’s pale pupils widened sharply. Yesterday, Xiaolian suggested inviting Xu Hezi to paint for the princess. By dawn today, she had been silenced!

A mere coincidence?

“Where’s my former brother-in-law? Quick—baby needs you!”

...

Pingkang Lane, Wannian County, was the largest entertainment and intelligence hub in all of Chang’an. If you needed to gather information, this was the most reliable place.

All manner of professionals congregated there. Among them was Old Dog, famed for his expertise in antiques and curios.

At this moment, Hua Mulan and Ye Lin sat across from the stooped, white-haired Old Dog, negotiating terms. Once a price was set, the doughty heroine with twin swords at her waist placed a silver ingot on the counter.

Old Dog grinned, “Very bold! Now, what do you want me to see?”

Ye Lin carefully took out a dazzling multicolored stone, inscribed with “May Xueyue Erlang and love last forever,” found in the ruins of Chun Yun Brothel. “Please, sir, see if you can identify the owner of this stone.”

Li Shu and Wu Yuanheng, still hoping Chen Chang’an could find clues from Xiaolian, idled in a teahouse, not wanting to seek answers elsewhere.

Ye Lin and Hua Mulan, having found nothing through their own efforts, decided to start with the stone and sought out Old Dog, the know-it-all of the antiques world.

Old Dog took the sparkling stone from Ye Lin, squinted and examined it for a long while before slapping his thigh. “This is a hidden-face stone, with special uses. As far as I know, only one person in all of Chang’an owns such a thing!”

“Who is it?” Ye Lin and Hua Mulan leaned forward, eyes shining with hope, as if their quarry was within reach.

Old Dog took a long drag from his pipe, exhaled pungent smoke, and said, “That person is…”

But at the word “is,” his voice abruptly cut off. He began to writhe and convulse unnaturally, his face turning ghastly pale; his features twisted in agony. At last, he let out a shriek and his chest exploded with a dull bang.

A once-vital, beating heart burst apart, scattering blood all over Ye Lin and Hua Mulan.

“Not good!”

The incident happened so suddenly that both women turned in unison. Standing across from the corpse was a man in Daoist robes—none other than Master Fenyang.

He slowly raised his palm toward Hua Mulan. “My ally was foolish, leaving clues for you—ones not even fire could erase.”

“But I promise you, this will be the last time.”

Hua Mulan drew the sword from her left hip in a flash, her robe billowing as she stared him down. “Ninth Primal Art—The Butcher of Life?”