Secret Pavilion

The "Shadow Pavilion" was a name that had gradually become renowned throughout the martial world over the past year. Their acceptance of assignments seemed almost capricious, with no discernible requirements—so long as the payment was generous enough, they would take the job. And whether it was assassination or investigation, they had never once failed—except in the case of the Liu family. But then again, the entire Liu family had been slaughtered by Beigong Qiyi herself.

All those within the Shadow Pavilion were shrouded in mystery; no one had ever seen its true master, nor laid eyes on its assassins. People only knew that a person named Mu Min managed its affairs.

The Shadow Pavilion, contrary to what its name might suggest, was not at all gloomy. Instead, it was simple and unadorned. At the front of the main hall, two pots of lush green pothos flanked the entrance. Below them, several nanmu wood chairs were neatly arranged in a row. The hall’s decor was dominated by cool green tones, and above the central seat at the front hung a single painting.

The painting depicted the back of a man. Zhuang Ming gazed at it, noting the soft and delicate brushwork, yet the figure’s posture was upright and unyielding. The man's hands hung loosely at his sides, the hem of his dark green coat flared as if caught in a sudden wind, and the backdrop was a vast, empty nothingness.

Mu Min entered the hall and, seeing Zhuang Ming studying the painting, asked in a deep voice, “What brings you here?”

Zhuang Ming, lost in thought, started at the sudden sound and instinctively tightened his grip on the sword at his side. Mu Min’s eyes flicked over, taking in the movement. Zhuang Ming turned around, cupped his hands with a smile, and said, “Are you Master Mu Min?”

“Hm,” Mu Min nodded. Zhuang Ming bowed repeatedly. “Forgive my rudeness, I am Zhuang Ming.”

“Your purpose?” Mu Min ignored his pleasantries. Having met a cold reception, Zhuang Ming was not embarrassed. He merely smiled and said, “My master wishes to meet the Pavilion’s lord.”

“The master does not receive visitors,” Mu Min replied coldly.

It was as if he hadn’t expected to be refused so bluntly. Zhuang Ming was momentarily stunned, then smiled and stepped closer to Mu Min, leaning in to whisper, “My master is the Second Prince of the realm.”

Mu Min’s brows drew together slightly. He retreated two steps, his face still cold. “The Shadow Pavilion deals only in business.”

Zhuang Ming’s smile faltered, his expression darkening. “Master Mu, you should reconsider. All under heaven belongs to the sovereign; all who dwell upon the land are his subjects…”

Mu Min was unmoved, cutting him off mid-sentence. “The Pavilion deals only in business. If you have no business, please leave.”

“You!” Zhuang Ming, furious, glared at Mu Min, who returned his gaze with the same wooden, unfeeling expression. After a few seconds of tense silence, Zhuang Ming flung his sleeve, huffed coldly, and strode out in anger.

Mu Min turned expressionlessly to head into the inner room, but a voice called after him, “Mu Min, when entertaining guests, you should at least try to smile. Otherwise, they’ll either be frightened away or angered off—and how are we to make money?”

Master? Mu Min spun around at once and, as expected, saw Beigong Qiyi lounging in a chair to the side, smiling at him with an air of mischief. Mu Min’s brows knitted as he hurried over. “Master, what’s happened to you?”

Beigong Qiyi gave a wry smile and shook her head. “Just a bit hurt. I’m afraid I can’t move for now.”

Seeing her pale face, Mu Min’s concern deepened. “Where are you hurt?”

She pointed to her side. “A few ribs broken. Nothing serious.”

Mu Min’s face darkened further. “If you’re injured, you ought to rest.”

Beigong Qiyi sprawled out on the chair, smiling. “Isn’t that what I’m doing—resting here?”

Mu Min fetched a cushion and placed it behind her, hesitating before asking, “Master, did you… quarrel with Lord Beigong?”

“Quarrel? We are not children.” Beigong Qiyi laughed, but the movement seemed to tug at her wounds. Her brows furrowed in pain as she sucked in a sharp breath. Mu Min, alarmed, quickly stepped forward to steady her. After a moment, she composed herself, suppressing the pain, and asked, “Was that someone from the court just now?”

Mu Min nodded. “The Second Prince’s man.”

Beigong Qiyi raised an eyebrow. “Zhao Yixiao wants to see me?”

Mu Min nodded and then shook his head. “Strictly speaking, he wishes to see the master of the Shadow Pavilion.”

Blinking in bemusement, Beigong Qiyi chuckled. “Exactly, he seeks the Pavilion’s master—not me…”

“Will you meet him?” Mu Min asked.

Shifting to a more comfortable position, Beigong Qiyi smiled. “As you said: ‘The Pavilion only deals in business.’ I’m not a business transaction. Though, he was quite right about one thing…”

“What was that?” Mu Min asked, puzzled.

Beigong Qiyi lifted her head, her smile sly. “All under heaven belongs to the sovereign; all who dwell upon the land are his subjects. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Mu Min stared at her, transfixed. The youth’s smile was both enigmatic and alluring, yet carried a decisive certainty. Mu Min’s eyes flickered as he nodded slowly. “Yes.”

All who dwell upon the land are his subjects indeed…

※※※

Her hands as soft as tender shoots, skin like congealed cream, neck fair and slender, teeth like polished shells, a smooth brow and delicate brows. Her laughter was charming, her eyes full of life.

“Her laughter is charming, her eyes full of life…” Zhao Yixiao murmured softly, penning another line: There is a beauty; once seen, never forgotten. A day without her is longing gone mad.

In his mind’s eye, he saw again the youth who favored yellow garments—truly, hands soft as tender shoots, skin like congealed cream, neck fair and slender, teeth like polished shells, a smooth brow and delicate brows. A laughter charming and eyes alive—one could never forget such beauty, nor cease to pine for them…

“Your Highness.” A woman in pale pink palace robes entered softly. Zhao Yixiao’s brow creased imperceptibly, though his face remained pleasant. “Xueqin, what brings you here?”

Wei Xueqin smiled sweetly as she approached, casting a seemingly casual glance at the paper before Zhao Yixiao. Her cheeks flushed pink. Half teasing, half bashful, she said, “It’s been days since I’ve seen you, Your Highness. I missed you so.”

With a helpless smile, Zhao Yixiao pulled her into his arms, his voice indulgent. “You…”

She nestled against his chest, secretly pleased, and said with a blush, “His Majesty has sent you to Yangzhou to handle the salt merchants’ case. It shows how much he values you.”

“So I must perform well, to live up to Father’s trust.” Zhao Yixiao stroked her hair gently, his tone soft, though his expression gradually grew cold. In the past, these salt merchant cases had always fallen to his elder brother. If not for his brother’s fall from favor, Father would never have entrusted them to him.

Now, with the salt merchants running rampant and most Yangzhou officials still loyal to his brother, the emperor had indeed made a shrewd move. Xueqin, though you are my second consort, whose side are you truly on?

“Your Highness…” Zhuang Ming, his face thunderous, entered and, seeing the two together, coughed awkwardly. “Princess Consort, you are here as well…”

Wei Xueqin hurriedly slipped out of Zhao Yixiao’s embrace, smoothing her hair in embarrassment. She smiled at Zhuang Ming and nodded. “Lord Zhuang, you have business with His Highness?”

“Ah, yes,” Zhuang Ming replied.

Wei Xueqin lifted her gaze to Zhao Yixiao with a gentle smile. “Then I’ll leave you to your discussion.” She patted his hand lightly. “I’ll see you tonight, then,” Zhao Yixiao replied softly. Xueqin’s cheeks reddened as she nodded and quietly left the room.

Outside the door, she paused and looked back at Zhao Yixiao, who met her eyes with a faint smile. Wei Xueqin blushed, bit her lip shyly, and closed the door behind her.

“Your Highness…” Zhuang Ming glanced at the door, then lowered his voice. “I just visited the Shadow Pavilion.”

Seated nearby, Zhao Yixiao lifted his tea and blew gently on it. “Judging by your face, I assume things did not go well?”

Zhuang Ming nodded, deflated. “The Pavilion’s steward insisted they only do business. I even invoked your name, but it made no difference!”

Taking a sip of tea, Zhao Yixiao chuckled. “For an organization that takes jobs for gold alone, it’s inevitable they make enemies on all sides. Yet not only do they remain unscathed, they have even become a force to be reckoned with in the martial world. The Pavilion’s master must be someone formidable!”

“I think so as well,” Zhuang Ming agreed. “In fact, I suspect the Pavilion’s master may be a woman!”

“Oh?” Zhao Yixiao raised an eyebrow. “And why does Lord Zhuang think so?”

Zhuang Ming spoke in a low voice. “I saw a painting in the Pavilion’s hall—the back of a man. I know a little about art, and the lines were fine and delicate, clearly the work of someone with deep feeling for the subject. Yet the back itself was rather roughly rendered, as if the artist’s emotions were unresolved.”

“It could have been a talented lady gifting the painting to the Pavilion’s master,” Zhao Yixiao mused, setting down his cup. “Or perhaps the master is a narcissist and painted himself?”

“…Your Highness makes a fair point.” Zhuang Ming forced a strained smile, unable to refute him. Zhao Yixiao burst out laughing. “Zhuang Ming, you should see your own face right now—it’s priceless!”

Only because of you, Your Highness! Zhuang Ming grumbled inwardly.

After a while, Zhao Yixiao calmed himself and patted Zhuang Ming’s shoulder, leaning in to whisper, “Besides, Zhuang Ming, just because the painting is of a man doesn’t mean the artist must be a woman…”

Zhuang Ming frowned, puzzled. If not a woman, then a man—but for a man to paint another man… Suddenly the implication dawned on him, and his recently recovered composure was once again thrown into turmoil.

Zhao Yixiao burst out laughing again, still gripping his shoulder.

Your Highness, can we ever have a serious conversation?! Zhuang Ming roared inwardly.

“Ahem, all right, enough,” Zhao Yixiao said, stifling his laughter and patting Zhuang Ming’s shoulder. “No more jokes. Let’s get down to business.”

Who’s the one joking here… Zhuang Ming sighed inwardly.

Finally serious, Zhao Yixiao said, “If the Pavilion’s master won’t see us, there’s no need to force it. Since they only do business, we'll seek them out for a transaction!”

Meanwhile, Beigong Qiyi, her pallor much improved, lay languidly on a couch in the inner chamber, eyes closed in meditation. Mu Min stood quietly at her side.

“By the way, Mu Min,” Beigong Qiyi suddenly said, “remember to send an invitation on my behalf, in the name of Lishan Manor. I, Beigong Qiyi, wish to meet Zhao Yixiao.”

“Yes.”

What’s that? You ask how the injured Beigong Qiyi got into the inner chamber? Naturally, Mu Min carried her in, princess-style!

Author’s note: Mu Min is just too adorable~