I traveled back to the Southern Song Dynasty and was actually outmaneuvered by Yue Fei.

Chapter 033: Defection

Zhao Bozong paused for a moment, but did not reply.

"I was there when you were selected to enter the palace that year. After Yue Shaobao looked at you, he turned to me and said, 'This boy has a calm and composed look in his eyes; he will surely achieve great things in the future.'"

"He didn't say you would clear his name. He never expects anyone to do anything for him. He just glanced at you and remembered you."

Zhao Bocong recalled Yue Yinping's words from back then.

But then Zhao Shi took something out of his sleeve and handed it over.

It is an old jade pendant.

This quality of jade pendant would be worth at most a few hundred copper coins in jade shops in Lin'an, but when Zhao Shi handed it over, his fingers were steady.

"This was given to me by Yue Shaobao years ago. He said, 'This jade is not worth much, but it can nourish the body.'"

"If someone comes to see me with this jade pendant in the future, that person is someone you can entrust with your business." Zhao Shiyi placed the jade pendant in Zhao Bocong's palm.

"I have waited all these years, until you were granted the title of Prince, until Consort Zhang paved the way for you, until you defended Hu Quan in court. You are the person I can entrust with this task."

Zhao Bozong put the jade pendant into his sleeve.

Thank you.

Zhao Shi did not answer. He walked past Zhao Bocong and headed towards the side hall.

As they passed each other, he stopped. "Keep your weapons hidden."

The voice was very low, so low that only Zhao Bocong could hear it.

Zhao Bocong stood still, Zhao Shiyi, an old member of the imperial clan who had survived Qin Hui's purge.

Tell him two things with a cheap jade pendant: You are the person chosen by Yue Fei, and so am I; hide it well, don't show it.

As the banquet drew to a close, Zhao Bocong noticed that his elder brother, Zhao Bogui, had stood up in a corner at the end of the table.

Zhao Bogui came from Xiuzhou and was given a lowly eighth-rank official position with no real power. He sat in the most inconspicuous corner amidst all the splendid attire in the hall.

He walked over with a wine glass in his hand, a smile spreading across his eyes. He didn't say anything fancy, just clinked glasses with his brother, tilted his head back and drank it all, then patted his brother's shoulder hard.

That gaze was heavier than any of the congratulatory messages from the guests in the hall—it conveyed satisfaction, pride, and a sense of peace that Zhao Bozong had never seen before in Lin'an.

After the banquet, Zhao Bozong escorted Consort Zhang back to her palace, and then returned.

Zhao Bogui waited for him at the palace gate, the two brothers standing side by side on the stone steps.

The night wind in the first month of the lunar calendar was a bit chilly. Zhao Bogui tightened the fur collar of his coat, took out a small pottery jar from his sleeve, and stuffed it into Zhao Bocong's hand.

The earthenware jar was sealed with wax, and when you shook it, it made a rustling sound inside.

"These are the plums your sister-in-law pickled. You once said that the plums in the palace were too sweet, and that the ones from your hometown in Xiuzhou were the best."

Zhao Bocong held the pottery jar in his hand.

The bottom of the jar had been frozen by the winter in Xiuzhou, and the coolness made it feel almost hot to the touch.

He remembered that when he was six years old, before he left Xiuzhou, his mother stuffed a jar of pickled plums into his bundle and told him to listen to the adults when he got to Lin'an.

He never tasted that flavor again.

"Brother, how's everything at home?"

"Okay." Zhao Bogui paused for a moment, "My mother is still in good health, but she keeps talking about you."

Your sister-in-law gave birth to another baby boy, but they haven't named him yet. I was thinking of asking you to name him when you go back to Xiuzhou.

Zhao Bozong nodded and tucked the pottery jar into his sleeve.

"There's one more thing." Zhao Bogui's voice suddenly hesitated, and he rubbed his hands together. "The Shen family of Xiuzhou, do you remember them? Shen Qingci, the daughter of Registrar Shen. When my father was alive, he had a verbal agreement with the Shen family."

Zhao Bozong did not answer, but the fingers holding the pottery jar tightened slightly; this information was beyond his expectations.

However, Zhao Bogui seemed oblivious to Zhao Bocong's unusual behavior and continued speaking.

"Registrar Shen passed away two years ago, and the Shen family has also fallen into ruin. Qingci, that girl, is supporting the family alone. At the beginning of the year, she asked someone to come to Xiuzhou to inquire about Lin'an."

Zhao Bogui looked at him and said, "I think that now that you are a prince, you should be the one to make the decision about this matter."

"Did she know I was in Lin'an?"

"I don't know. All she knows is that the child from the Zhao family who was chosen to enter the palace back then is still in Lin'an."

Where does she live?

"She said she was going to stay with a distant relative in the west of the city, and that she would send someone to deliver a message to me when she arrived." Zhao Bogui took out an old letter from his sleeve. "This is the one she sent last time."

Zhao Bocong took the letter. The handwriting on the envelope was delicate and beautiful, clearly the work of a woman.

He didn't open it on the spot, but said in a low voice, "I'll handle this. If you have a place to stay in Lin'an, just look for me."

Zhao Bogui nodded, watching his younger brother's retreating figure as he walked back into the palace gate, and suddenly felt a little dazed.

Zhao Bozong only opened the letter after returning to the Prince's Mansion.

The letter was short, with neat and legible handwriting, indicating that it was written by an educated person. It was signed with only the character "Shen" and had no address.

He folded the letter and placed it under the Tang Dynasty mirror, then opened the jar of plums, picked out a plum, and put it in his mouth.

The sourness explodes on the tip of the tongue, followed by saltiness, and finally a very faint aftertaste of sweetness.

Then Zhao Bozong took out the old jade pendant from his sleeve and placed it in his palm. The jade was of ordinary quality, the carving was rough, and the end of the cord was somewhat worn.

He turned it over and looked at it against the candlelight. On the back of the jade pendant were four tiny characters: "Wait for the right time to act."

Zhao Shi did not tell him about the existence of these four words.

Perhaps the old man forgot to say it, or perhaps he deliberately didn't say it, letting him discover it himself.

In May of the twelfth year of the Shaoxing reign, the plum rain season in Lin'an arrived earlier than usual.

Zhao Bozong sat in his study, with a pot of wine and two wine cups in front of him.

Raindrops hung from the eaves outside the window, falling in strings.

He pulled Shen Qingci's letter from under the Tang Dynasty mirror and read it again.

Her older brother said she had already set off from Xiuzhou to Lin'an to stay with distant relatives in the west of the city.

He didn't know what she looked like, whether she would get used to the climate and environment of Lin'an, or whether her fiancé lived next door to Qin Hui.

But he knew one thing: after she arrived, he would no longer be the only one in the palace.

The wine was Shaoxing rice wine, an aged vintage unearthed from the cellar of the Prince's mansion. Zhao Bozong poured two cups. One for himself, and the other placed opposite him.

When Liu An brought in the tea, Zhao Bozong pointed to the chair opposite him.

"sit."

Liu An was taken aback.

He was still holding the tea tray, standing there without sitting down. "Your Highness, I dare not."

"You've been my personal attendant for months. Having a drink with me isn't overstepping your bounds."

Zhao Bozong filled the empty cup, pushed it to the opposite side of the table, and the wine swirled in the cup, reflecting the grayish-white light of the sky outside the window.

Liu An hesitated for a moment.

He placed the tea tray in the corner of his desk and sat down carefully.

Zhao Bozong picked up his glass of wine, took a sip, and then put it down.

"How much monthly salary do you receive from Prime Minister Qin?"

Liu An's hand paused.

The wine glass was held halfway up, suspended in mid-air, with the wine gently swirling inside.

The sound of rain outside the window suddenly became very clear; the raindrops hit the banana leaves, thump, thump, thump.

"What is Your Highness saying? I don't understand."

"I can roughly guess what you reported to that gray-clad man you met at the back gate every evening," Zhao Bozong said calmly.

"Today, Prince Puan read a beautiful poem, drank half a jar of Taiping wine and became drunk, and talked with three members of the imperial clan about theaters and brothels until 9 PM."

If such content were presented to Qin Hui, the prime minister would likely scoff, burn the note near the candlelight, and then continue reviewing his official documents.

A sixteen-year-old member of the imperial family, indulging in wine and women, is nothing to worry about.

Liu An slammed his wine glass on the table, making a sharp, crisp sound.

"You were selected to enter the palace in the ninth year of the Shaoxing era. When Qin Hui planted spies in the palace, he chose you."

He gave you a monthly salary of five hundred coins and asked you to keep an eye on the Duke of Jian Guo. You kept an eye on him for three years, from the ninth year of the Shaoxing era to the twelfth year.

Zhao Bozong placed the wine glass on the table. "In these three years, you have watched me read, write, eat, and sleep every day."

Liu An's lips moved, but he couldn't speak.