The next morning at dawn, Qiu Huan was awakened by the sound of knocking. Ever since her true qi had become disordered, her vigilance had increased, yet her ability to stay on guard had plummeted.

Drowsily, she called out for whoever it was to come in—after all, it was always the same few people who knocked; servants wouldn’t be cleaning at this hour, and if someone had ill intentions, they’d have broken in long ago. Why be so polite now? She had assumed it was Duan Yunhe having another nightmare or a prophetic dream, but when she opened her eyes, she was startled by the scene before her and instantly snapped awake.

Two streaks of blood on the carpet were shockingly obvious, and Yuan Mo was holding a woman whose clothes were soaked in congealed blood, barely clinging to life. Who else could it be but Yuan Qian, the one who had been missing for so long?

Yuan Mo released her grip, and Yuan Qian fell to her knees before her, bowing her head in apology.

“My subordinate is incompetent,” Yuan Qian said, her face pale and sallow, her voice barely above a whisper.

Qiu Huan immediately signaled Yuan Mo to go fetch someone from Xinggu, while she herself lifted Yuan Qian and pressed her wrist—sure enough, her pulse was very weak.

“What on earth happened?” Qiu Huan had sent her alone to investigate Hui Yuan’s secrets precisely because she trusted her abilities; she never imagined Yuan Qian would end up injured like this.

Just as Yuan Qian was about to speak, the taut string of tension that had kept her on edge since returning here suddenly slackened, and she closed her eyes and collapsed.

“Her body is covered in all kinds of flesh wounds—she must have been subjected to the most excruciating forms of torture—and her internal energy has also been suppressed by drugs. However, her life isn’t in danger; with two months of recuperation, she should recover. If all goes well, she’ll regain consciousness within three days, and I’ll prepare the medicine to restore her internal energy as soon as possible,” reported the female physician from Xinggu to Qiu Huan.

“I understand. Take good care of her, and let me know immediately if anything changes.”

After Yuan Qian fainted, she was carried back to her own room. Once the servants had cleaned her up, the horrifying array of injuries that were revealed truly enraged Qiu Huan. No matter what grudges Hui Yuan might hold against her, to resort to such ruthless means to harm those close to her—even a woman—is something she simply cannot accept.

“If you dare do this, you’d better be prepared to pay the price someday,” Qiu Huan thought to herself.

She stepped out of the room and shut the door behind her. Around the corner of the hallway, a man in blue leaned casually against a pillar.

“Who did this?” the man asked softly, a faint, serene smile playing on his lips.

Qiu Huan shot him a glance, thinking to herself, “Your suspicion hasn’t been cleared yet, and here you are, showing up uninvited—aren’t you afraid I’ll call you to account?” Yet she wasn’t the least bit surprised to see him here.

—There are countless informants of his scattered around Shuanglin Garden; after all, he works in intelligence. If he can’t even spot someone who’s been hurt, then the Eagle Division might as well step down en masse. Besides, this is really a family affair for Tonglou. Whether as the chief eagle of the nest or as Qiu Huan’s older brother, it’s only natural that he’d come take a look at Yuan Qian.

“You’re asking me?” She raised an eyebrow, clearly thinking he was asking just to make conversation.

“Of course. She’s your confidante, so naturally I wouldn’t be keeping a constant eye on her,” Ming Zhen replied nonchalantly, walking slowly over to her side. “Besides, if I knew she was being held captive, there’s no way I’d just sit by and do nothing.”

“Is that so?” Qiu Huan responded without committing either way, not wanting to get drawn into this argument. She changed the subject rather abruptly, though the transition felt a bit forced: “Have you ever met Zhao Erhan before? He looks strangely familiar to me.”

“You mean Li Zhao? Yes, I’ve met him—back when we were on a mission several years ago. But he doesn’t know me.” Before becoming a chief eagle, Ming Zhen had taken on a few assassination missions, mostly in the Gao Yang region. Since these were covert operations, disguising oneself—or at least concealing one’s identity—was essential, so he had only ever encountered Zhao Erhan from one side.

Qiu Huan racked her brain, but couldn’t recall whether he’d ever mentioned him before, so she dropped the subject. Then she added, “Gao Yang Wang only has two sons, right? The crown prince, Prince Lan Li Bai, and I have never crossed paths. How strange.” Lately, she’d been feeling like she recognized faces all the time—just Zhao Erhan was one thing, but even Qin Yaoyue seemed vaguely familiar too. What on earth was going on?

“Why the sudden interest?” Ming Zhen asked curiously. “Who does he look like? Maybe you’ve run into a bastard son of Gao Yang Wang before?”

She shot him a glare and said irritably, “If that guy wants someone, why not just drag them off to his harem? Why bother pretending they’re illegitimate?”

Well, Qiu Huan wasn’t entirely wrong. Gao Yang Wang’s ruthless pursuit of women was notorious throughout Gao Yang and even Liangqiu. The most famous incident occurred years ago, when the two countries were still relatively friendly: during a visit to Liangqiu, the Gao Yang king took a fancy to the Liangqiu king’s consort at a banquet and insisted on taking her back to his own country. The people of Liangqiu were deeply outraged by this—not only did they object to such “stealing” of wives, but they were also disappointed in their emperor’s weakness. And the common folk? A sovereign driven by lust and forcibly snatching another man’s wife—how could anyone feel proud of that?

In fact, the story as it’s told today has already been sugarcoated. The truth is, the Liangqiu emperor’s consort, though of low rank, not particularly beloved, and a native of the Western Regions, had one very special quality—she was the mother of a prince. No one knows exactly what conditions the Gao Yang king used to bribe or threaten the Liangqiu king with, but he managed to wrest the prince’s mother away.

Afterward, although the prince’s biological mother was officially reclassified on the imperial records, it was clear from this incident that he would never ascend the throne. This little-known prince reportedly died in the palace before he turned ten—perhaps it was for the best that his life ended at such a young age. Otherwise, one day when he learned the truth about his origins—that his father had given his birth mother to someone else—how would he ever cope?

End of Chapter 24: Hidden Traces and Secret Footprints