Chapter 8

Meanwhile, on the other side of the throne hall.

Someone had already started sweating.

The Left Vice Minister of Revenue said, low, "Hasn't the Crown Prince been investigating a little too closely lately?"

The Vice Minister of Works nodded. "He has."

A director from the Ministry of Rites had gone white. "A few days ago he suddenly asked where my ancestral home was. Yesterday he asked how many people are in my family."

The more they talked, the worse they looked.

Because they'd noticed.

The Crown Prince had been too strange lately.

When other people inspected the provinces, they looked at political record.

When the Crown Prince inspected the provinces, he asked the price of vegetables. The price of pigs. The price of grain.

He even asked how much an egg cost.

When other people visited a minister's house, they talked state affairs, the frontier, the people's livelihood.

When the Crown Prince visited a minister's house, he asked how old your son was, where your wife was from, and whether anyone in the house talked in their sleep.

Weird. Too weird.

So a rumor started seeping out, quiet.

The Crown Prince was investigating people.

Deep.

Very deep.

On the other side, I was sorting a suspect list.

The list had already filled three full pages.

Result: not one of them fit.

I was getting desperate.

"Son."

"You really can't smell him out?"

My son was flopped on the table. He thought about it, serious.

"Can't smell him."

"Dad doesn't smell."

"..."

"Then how did you smell me out?"

"Mom smells good."

"..."

I decided to stop trying logic on a five-year-old.

Right then, a report came from outside the door.

"His Majesty's rewards have arrived—"

I froze. Rewards?

In a moment, dozens of eunuchs filed in.

Gold, silver, jewels. Antiques, calligraphy, paintings. Chest after chest, carried into the Eastern Palace.

They hauled for a full hour.

At the end, Fu Hai walked over, smiling.

"Your Highness. His Majesty says you've worked hard lately."

"These are for you to play with."

Me: Play with?

This was stuff you played with?

After they left.

My son had already thrown himself into a treasure chest, happy as a mouse that had fallen into a rice jar.

"Mom! Mom!"

"Does the Emperor like you?"

I nearly choked on my own spit.

"Don't talk nonsense."

"He's my dad."

My son shook his head, serious.

"Not that kind of like."

"The kind they do on TV."

Me: "..."

What did a little kid know.

But I didn't know why. That night, lying in bed.

I suddenly thought of the Emperor's eyes lately. Of those rewards that made no sense.

Something in my chest went prickly, for no good reason.

I kept feeling like I'd missed something.

At the same time, the Imperial Study.

The Emperor was flipping through a thick stack: Secret Report on the Crown Prince's Movements These Three Months.

He read. And read. Then he laughed, low, something unmelted and tender sitting in his eyes.

Fu Hai stood to the side, cold sweat running, with no idea what His Majesty was talking about.

The Emperor lifted his gaze toward the Eastern Palace and murmured, quiet:

"Hasn't changed. Not one bit."

"Finally found you, love."