Chapter Eight: Totem

As she spoke, she unfurled a scroll of paper and showed it to Feng Yewu. Upon it, a few bold strokes in vivid red formed a lotus-like shape. Feng Yewu had never seen such a totem before. She took the scroll, contemplating it in silence for a moment.

“Send orders to the Imperial Guard. Investigate the origins of this tattoo at once!” Feng Yewu commanded coldly.

Those marked with tattoos were often members of clandestine organizations from the underworld. The female assassin’s swordsmanship was exquisite, clearly the work of a highly trained professional killer. Assassins from such organizations were ruthless and without principles; as long as the price was right, they would even attempt to kill the Emperor.

Surely, someone had instigated them. Yet Feng Yewu, at this moment, had no inkling who might be orchestrating it from the shadows.

In her previous life, when the envoys from the Northern Tribes arrived, she had hosted a feast in the Palace of Delights, but there had been no assassins. Because of this, Feng Yewu had let her guard down during the banquet, giving the assassin a chance to strike. Where had things gone awry this time, to make someone so desperate to see her dead?

“As you command.” Hanyue was about to leave to deliver the order, but Feng Yewu called her back. “Did the princess from the Northern Tribes say anything?”

Earlier, the princess had tried to take Lu Jue away for a political marriage, but he had been so badly injured. Feng Yewu had decreed that no one was to approach Lu Jue without her permission. She wondered if the headstrong princess would cause a scene because of this.

Hanyue replied, “The envoys have already accepted the generous gifts prepared by the Ministry of Rites and are making preparations to leave tomorrow.”

Feng Yewu was surprised. “And the matter of the alliance through marriage?”

“According to Eunuch Deming, the princess was deeply moved when she saw Lu Jue risk his life to protect Your Majesty. She felt it would be wrong, both emotionally and morally, to take him away, so she gave up the idea.”

“Lu Jue’s fate is one thing, but the marriage alliance is another. Why did the princess not choose someone else?” Feng Yewu questioned.

Hanyue showed some confusion as well. “This… I don’t know. The princess herself said she would not pursue the alliance any longer.”

“It must be because of me.” A weak, hoarse voice sounded. Feng Yewu turned around in shock, only to see that Lu Jue had opened his eyes at some point.

Lu Jue offered a faint, weary smile. “At the banquet, I failed in my duty as your personal attendant and was not by your side at all times. I hope Your Majesty will forgive me… But since the princess had insisted on taking me for the alliance, I could only do my best to persuade her otherwise.”

As Lu Jue spoke, Feng Yewu hurried to clasp his cold hands gently, her eyes filled with sorrow and pain as she listened.

Hanyue, quick-witted as ever, quietly withdrew to summon the imperial physician. Seeing Feng Yewu remain silent, Lu Jue spoke again, “Your Majesty… I…”

This time, Feng Yewu interrupted him. “You went at my command; there is no fault on your part… Say no more… Even if there were, you risked your life to protect me, and that…”

She could not finish the sentence, her nose stinging as memories of Lu Jue’s whispered words before he fainted flooded her mind. Lu Jue’s face, pale as paper, softened into its usual gentle smile. He squeezed her hands in silent reassurance.

For a time, only the two of them remained by the bedside, enveloped in a tranquil silence.

“May I see that totem?” Lu Jue suddenly asked. Feng Yewu started, then remembered he was referring to the assassin’s tattoo.

She picked up the paper that had fallen to the floor in the earlier chaos. Lu Jue reached for it and studied the drawing for a long time, his brows slowly knitting together.

“This is the lotus totem of the Penglai Pavilion…” he murmured. “I saw it once on a scroll hidden in my family’s collection.”

“Is Penglai Pavilion an assassin organization?” Feng Yewu pressed.

Lu Jue shook his head. “It once was, but it vanished without a trace two years ago. I never thought… it would reemerge in the world now.”

Feng Yewu frowned. “Vanished? Were they wiped out by someone?”

Lu Jue raised his head, his gaze meeting hers directly. After a moment’s silence, he replied, “It was said that… King Changeng of Pingyi personally eradicated them.”

King Changeng of Pingyi?

Feng Yewu summoned her trusted confidant, Zhao Muyang.

In the chilly side hall, under the wan candlelight, Zhao Muyang knelt on one knee, dressed all in black. Feng Yewu tucked the quilt more securely around Lu Jue, then turned and tossed the paper bearing the lotus symbol in front of Zhao Muyang. “This tattoo was found on the assassin from Penglai Pavilion. Find out who sent the female assassin.”

She paused. “I trust you understand my meaning.”

Zhao Muyang accepted the paper with both hands, bowed to Feng Yewu, and swiftly departed the side hall of Weiyang Palace.

Lu Jue, lying on the bed, gave a bitter smile. He struggled to sit up, accidentally pulling at his wounds, cold sweat beading on his forehead. He understood Feng Yewu’s words, as did Zhao Muyang.

“Does Your Majesty trust me so little?” Lu Jue rasped, his voice filled with anguish.

Feng Yewu could feel his gaze upon her. The emperor who had always feared nothing and no one now could not bring herself to turn and meet those clear, sorrowful eyes. She pressed her lips together tightly, and after a long silence, finally murmured, “I trust no one.”

Lu Jue lowered his head, his voice hoarse. “Not even me?”

Feng Yewu clenched her fists and coughed. “Get some rest.”

With measured, dignified steps, Feng Yewu left the side hall—yet no matter how one looked at her retreating figure, it seemed as though she was fleeing in defeat.