Little Pink Starfish

Xianzong’s Wasted Dinner

Emperor Xianzong blurted something out in the heat of the moment, only to realize a second later that everyone around him was hanging their heads low, trying to disappear into the ground. He’d just implied, in front of a crowd, that his son-in-law and daughter had been, well… a bit too active in bed. Xianzong slapped his own forehead. Surely, it was just a sign that he’d stayed up too late lately—his mind was slipping.

Xiao Wei, utterly exhausted from juggling a crying infant and guarding an unconscious prince consort, forced himself to stay alert and asked, “Your Majesty, what about the Prince Consort?”

Xianzong looked toward the imperial physicians.

Sensing that despite his gruff expression, the emperor was clearly worried about Gu Xinglang’s condition, one physician said, “Your Majesty, it would be best to find a place where the Prince Consort can rest. I’ll prescribe a restorative tonic.”

Was there even a place in the inner palace suitable for Gu Xinglang to stay? Xianzong rubbed his temples. “Can he be moved?”

“It’s best to let the Prince Consort regain consciousness first,” the physician said.

So… that meant the brat had to spend the night in his imperial palace. The more Xianzong looked at his son-in-law, the more annoyed he felt. What did he gain by marrying his daughter to this kid?

Xiao Wei looked pleadingly at the emperor. His princess might be a skilled healer, but who knew where she had run off to now? With her missing, Xiao Wei didn’t dare trust any other doctor but the palace physicians.

“Send him to the Hall of Political Affairs,” Xianzong ground out. “And have the Medical Bureau send more physicians. Check his legs, and make sure nothing happens to his legs.”

“We obey,” the two physicians said at once.

The shadow guard supporting Gu Xinglang shifted and carried him bridal-style.

Xiao Wei stood up as well.

Xianzong glanced at him. “You’re hurt?”

Xiao Wei’s clothes were soaked in blood—used to clean Gu Xinglang’s hands. He dropped to one knee and said, “Your Majesty, I got some blood on me while rescuing people in the Book Pavilion.”

“Fine,” Xianzong said, not interested in the details. He gestured with his hand. “Get up and go with your master.”

Xiao Wei, seeing that the emperor didn’t ask about Yu Ziyi, took the baby and followed his shadow guard friend.

Jingzhong watched helplessly as Xiao Wei carried off Yu Ziyi. But he didn’t dare say anything this time.

Not long after, the general in charge of extinguishing the Book Pavilion fire came running over. “Your Majesty, the fire has been put out. Only two rooms on the second floor were destroyed; the rest are intact.”

“Only two rooms?” Xianzong asked, surprised.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The ancestors must be protecting me, Xianzong thought. After such a massive fire and thick smoke, for only two rooms to be lost—that was a miracle. His night of fear and anxiety had finally yielded a shred of good news.

The general added, “Other than two palace maids killed by the flower terrace, there were no other casualties.”

“Where are the bodies?” Xianzong asked.

“They’ve been removed from the courtyard, ready to be sent to the Office of Justice.”

“Let’s go take a look,” Xianzong said, striding off toward the Book Pavilion.

“Your Majesty!” the general tried to stop him. “We’ve confirmed the dead were Wang and Xu, two of Your Majesty’s personal maids.”

At this, Jingzhong visibly trembled.

“So?” Xianzong asked.

“Your Majesty doesn’t need to see the bodies. They’re filthy. Best not to sully your eyes.”

“Oh? You think I’m scared of corpses?” Xianzong snapped. “What a joke. Lead the way.”

The general looked around helplessly, hoping Jingzhong would step in—but then noticed Jingzhong was the only one still kneeling.

“What are you looking for?” Xianzong asked.

The general gave up and led the way at an angle ahead of the emperor.

“Jingzhong, keep up,” Xianzong said after a few steps, suddenly noticing something was missing.

Jingzhong hurriedly responded and scrambled to his feet, falling in behind the emperor.

The two maids’ bodies lay outside the pavilion’s courtyard, covered with white cloth. Several imperial guards stood around them.

Xianzong walked right up to them. “Uncover it.”

The general signaled his men. What else could he do? The emperor insisted.

A guard bent down and pulled back the cloth from one body.

Even Xiao Wei had nearly vomited at the sight earlier—how could Xianzong possibly endure it? The corpse was headless, the trachea exposed, flesh shredded, blood and brain matter mixing into a dark sludge that had hardened the robes. The emperor gagged—then promptly threw up.

Jingzhong and the others rushed forward, calling for the emperor and the physicians in a frenzy.

“Catch the assassin!” Xianzong shoved everyone aside, roaring, “Find them, no matter what! This is an insult! Killing my close attendants—this assassin is mocking me!”

“We obey!” the general dropped to his knees and shouted.

“Gu Xinglang was probably injured by that assassin too,” Xianzong added, seething. Exhaustion? Fatigue? My ass. Now he was sure—his son-in-law had been attacked. “Bastard! I’ll have that assassin skinned alive and executed by a thousand cuts!”

“Please calm down, Your Majesty,” Jingzhong tried to console him.

Xianzong glanced once more at the gruesome body—and bent over to retch again.

Jingzhong quickly held his back and tried to soothe him. “Your Majesty, shall we send the bodies to the Office of Justice?”

Finally managing to stop gagging, Xianzong rasped, “Summon the Minister of Justice. Tell him to bring his team into the palace to investigate.”

A eunuch accepted the decree and ran off toward the palace gates.

“Take them away,” Xianzong said next.

Four guards immediately picked up the bodies and carried them off toward the Office of Justice.

Xianzong took deep, calming breaths. Any more vomiting and he’d start spitting up bile. That imperial dinner… all for nothing.

“Hmm?” Just as Xianzong was regretting his wasted meal, he heard a familiar voice: “What are you all doing here?”

Smack! Xianzong slapped his own forehead. Being alive is so painful.

Yu Xiaoxiao strolled right up. She looked at her exasperated father, then at the object the guards were carrying. With one hand, she flipped the white cloth. “What’s this? A body?”

Xianzong had just lifted his head to speak to his daughter when she pulled back the cloth, giving him another full view of the mangled corpse. This time, he really did throw up bile.

“The head’s completely smashed,” Yu Xiaoxiao observed. “Was this a beating execution?” She hadn’t killed anyone. Neither had Wuhuan. And the fire couldn’t have only burned off someone’s head. Her royal instincts told her—this was probably the work of her idiot emperor father.