Chapter 14: Reckless Intrusion

Han Shuwei felt a lingering fear at the thought of that man. Biting her lip, she nodded and tugged at Han Shujing’s sleeve. “Sister, let’s go to your place. Though Mother had your room cleaned yesterday, Grandmother and the others sent over many things again early this morning—especially the ornate screen from Uncle. It’s so big, none of us know where to put it. Now that you’re back, you can choose a spot yourself and appreciate it fully.”

Han Shujing smiled gently, noting the initial nervousness in her sister’s eyes, which soon turned to envy. Not bothering to question her odd expression, she patted her sister’s cheek. “From how you describe it, that screen must be exceptionally beautiful and magnificent. I must go see what it looks like. In a few days, I’ll have to thank Uncle and the others as well.”

“Mm.” The three sisters walked off together, chatting and laughing. Meanwhile, the old Madam Han sent someone to the eastern wing to gather news. Lately, Madam Hong had grown more anxious and was worried she might provoke Xue Ao, so she forbade her from going. Left with no choice, the eldest Madam Han stayed behind at Qingxin Residence to wait.

Last night, the second Madam Han had heard from her husband that Xue Ao was investigating Zhao Panyu’s corruption case. She worried that their own Marquis of Wukang might be implicated if they visited rashly. After a brief hesitation, she spoke up, “Mother, my husband said—”

“Madam! Madam! The Chief Censor has come out!” The serving woman who had reported earlier now rushed back, breathless.

“Did you hear anything?”

“I only caught that it had to do with the Prefect. Then Master said the Prefect had indeed sent him a screen, but he didn’t know where it came from.”

“A screen?” Second Madam Han was startled. “Could it be the one sent to Jing’er?”

“Exactly, Madam. Master has already gotten out of bed and taken him to Third Miss’s courtyard.”

“What?” Second Madam Han was dumbfounded and immediately looked to the old Madam for help.

“As expected, they never let us rest easy.” The old Madam Han sighed and rose from her seat. “That scoundrel took a screen from Zhao Panyu without asking its origin. If we’re dragged into a corruption case, the reputation of the Marquis of Wukang’s household will be utterly ruined!”

“Should we go see for ourselves, Madam?”

“We’re women. What business do we have meddling?” The old Madam shot her a glare. “We’ll wait here. Lingcong is clever enough—he’ll send the screen back and clear our name if he can. If not, we’ll have to think of something else. Also, send for the second master to watch over things at Wanhe Garden. We can’t have the young ladies frightened.”

“Yes, Madam.” Yunling acknowledged the order and hurried off. Second Madam Han bowed her head, growing more anxious by the moment. She glanced sideways at the eldest Madam, who seemed even more distressed but could say nothing in the old Madam’s presence.

Meanwhile, in Wanhe Garden, Liu Chuyan and her companions were admiring the screen, saying it rivaled those crafted in the imperial workshops. It consisted of twelve panels, made of ebony carved with flowers, embroidered with red lotus, and set with a heart-shaped glass mirror at the center. The base was carved with unopened white lotus buds—Han Shujing’s favorite flower. The overlapping petals in shades of pale pink and fiery red were not especially rare, but the overall craftsmanship was unique and extraordinary. Han Shujing’s room had little color before, but with this red lotus screen, it was much brighter.

Suddenly, hurried footsteps sounded outside, and Han Ruoyu’s muffled explanation could be heard: “Lord Xue, I may be foolish, but even I know to avoid matters of corruption. Lord Zhao did give me a screen, which I found pleasing, so I passed it on to my niece. But I never examined it closely, nor did I know if it was ill-gotten.”

“Hmph. If this is the very screen the Emperor favors, you’d best watch your head!” Xue Ao’s expression was cold and his words harsh.

Liu Chuyan and the others, still in high spirits, were startled by the abrupt entrance of these uninvited guests.

“Uncle, what’s going on?” Han Shuwei avoided looking at Xue Ao and addressed Han Ruoyu.

Sighing, Han Ruoyu explained, “When I visited Lord Zhao’s residence, I praised his screen, never expecting he would send it to me that very night. I accepted it because I liked it, but soon grew tired of it. Yesterday, hearing my niece would return and that her room was full of old things, I thought this screen—embroidered with red lotus, her favorite—would be a fitting gift, so I sent it along.”

Liu Chuyan understood his attempt to distance himself from the matter. She bowed respectfully and said, “Any gift from Uncle must be wonderful. We’ve just admired the screen and agreed it’s as fine as any imperial work. Unfortunately, it bears no imperial mark, so we do not know its origin. We thought to ask you, Uncle, and it’s fortunate you’ve come. But just now, I seemed to hear there’s a problem with the screen?”

“It’s more than a problem.” Xue Ao sneered, running his hand along a scratch on the side. “This is indeed the red lotus screen personally carved by the Emperor. The red lotus and white lotus on the screen were painted for His Majesty by my elder brother. I have an identical red lotus painting at home—I could never mistake it. I can’t imagine who had the audacity to steal this screen from the palace and give it to Zhao Panyu. If the Emperor hadn’t suddenly remembered it, who knows where it would have ended up.”

Liu Chuyan listened closely and recalled that Zhao Panyu’s corruption case began with a screen. Zhao Panyu was powerful in Jinling and wealthy beyond measure; he’d seen all manner of fine things. Those seeking his favor racked their brains for gifts, finally settling on a screen made by the Emperor himself. The Emperor, fond of woodworking, had made countless screens and likely would not miss one or two. So, someone stole it and gave it to Zhao Panyu.

Having seen it in the palace, Zhao Panyu recognized its value—not for the jewels, but because it bore the Emperor’s handiwork and craftsmanship surpassing even the best carpenters. He accepted it. When the Marquis of Wukang later admired it, Zhao, already tired of it, passed it on.

No one expected that the embroidery and base depicted lotus flowers painted by the Duke of National Trust, the Emperor’s favorite. He had commissioned double-sided embroidery of the red lotus and matching carvings at the base—no small feat. Later, with too many items in his chamber, he moved some aside but left the screen, never suspecting its theft.

Some time ago, when the Duke of National Trust entered the palace, the Emperor suddenly recalled the red lotus screen and ordered a search, but it was nowhere to be found. Enraged, he demanded a thorough investigation. The inquiry implicated dozens, and ultimately led to Zhao Panyu.

If Zhao dared accept a screen personally made by the Emperor, he likely accepted much else. The Emperor ordered Xue Ao to continue the investigation.

Xue Ao despised corruption above all, and there were many unsavory figures at court, none more so than the Eunuch of Nine Thousand. But for now, the eunuch was untouchable, so Zhao Panyu was made an example. With the Emperor’s backing, Xue Ao had Zhao arrested and imprisoned.

The Zhao family had risen thanks to the lingering influence of Zhao’s mentor, but the mentor was gone and they had no one to turn to. Lady Zhao tried to seek help from the Eunuch of Nine Thousand, but since she had never courted his favor before, he ignored her. He accepted Liu Chuyan, whom she sent as a gift, but left Zhao Panyu to suffer in prison, facing execution or confiscation of his family’s property.

Thinking of the Eunuch of Nine Thousand, Liu Chuyan’s heart burned with anger and hatred, her breath quickening, her eyes full of venom.

Xue Ao glanced at her and was startled, taking a step back. Right, she was the Han family’s cousin—though they’d met twice and she was hardly polite, there was no reason for her to glare at him so. Could it be she was so attached to the screen she now hated him for it? A greedy woman, indeed—how contemptible.

Liu Chuyan stood dazed for a moment until Han Shujing nudged her elbow. Only then did she realize she’d been staring intently at Xue Ao, and that he was looking back at her with clear distaste.

Han Ruoyu, not knowing their private thoughts and unable to inquire, forced a smile and approached. “Lord Xue, you’d best take the screen to the Emperor yourself. I’ll accompany you to the palace and explain everything to His Majesty. Otherwise, I’d be wrongfully accused without recourse.”

“If the Marquis of Wukang is going to the palace, come with me. But your cousin seems reluctant to part with the screen.” Xue Ao cast a sidelong glance at Liu Chuyan.

Startled, Liu Chuyan suddenly realized she was so tense she’d been clutching the screen all along, making her appear, in Xue Ao’s eyes, thoroughly shallow.

Han Shujing, more experienced in such matters, stepped in front of her. “Lord Chief Censor, you misunderstand. My cousin was simply frightened—she’s unaccustomed to strange men, and you entered so abruptly, speaking of Lord Zhao’s corruption. She was overwhelmed and didn’t know what she was doing. I hope you’ll forgive her.”

Xue Ao had indeed been in a hurry, fearing the Marquis would move the screen before he arrived, and thus had barged in without thought. Glancing around now, he realized he’d entered a ladies’ boudoir—how improper. He’d just blamed Liu Chuyan, yet now Han Shujing’s subtle reproach left him embarrassed, his face flushing red.

Seeing him blush, Liu Chuyan thought perhaps he was not beyond redemption if he could still feel shame. But what was the use of embarrassment now, after barging in as he did? And, knowing his temperament, he would never lower himself to apologize.

Indeed, Xue Ao snorted, flicked his sleeves, and strode out, ordering his men to carry away the red lotus screen. He himself all but fled the scene.