Chapter 103: The Storeroom

Chapter 103: The Silver Vault

Qi Yan froze, his lips touching the wine cup. He hesitated slightly before leaning close to Xiao Shao's ear, mimicking his manner, and whispered, "I can’t hold my liquor."

With Song Lvyang still watching from the side, Xiao Shao pressed a hand against the back of Qi Yan's head, pulling him even closer. He kissed the blood-red earlobe repeatedly, looking downright affectionate to onlookers.

His lips brushed lightly behind Qi Yan's ear as he murmured, "That bad?"

The warm breath, carrying the Second Prince's distinctive fragrance, fanned over Qi Yan's skin, leaving him dazed and flushed as if already drunk. Pushing weakly against Xiao Shao's chest, he hesitated before answering, "One sip, and I’ll be drunk... and start spouting nonsense."

Xiao Shao chuckled. "Spouting nonsense? Then just half a sip."

As he spoke, his fingers rubbed Qi Yan’s lips until they reddened. Then, he brought the cup to Qi Yan's mouth, letting him drink half while dumping the rest unnoticed into his sleeve.

Half the wine splashed onto the floor, while the other half trickled down Xiao Shao's chest. His robes, light and thin, turned slightly sheer to hint at his skin beneath.

Qi Yan had only taken a sip, yet he already felt intoxicated.

His cheek pressed against Xiao Shao's chest as he heard the Second Prince’s amused whisper, "Play along closer—sell the act."

Qi Yan bit his lower lip, going quiet.

How could he call him by his courtesy name at a time like this?

The name bestowed by Senior Tutor Song was now being used like this—playful, almost mocking. Qi Yan should have been furious, yet he found himself unable to summon any anger. Instead, he grumbled, "How close?"

Xiao Shao murmured, "Wrap your arms around my neck, just like you did in the study... Yes, just like that."

He bent slightly lower. Xiao Shao hadn’t tied his hair up properly, only loosely securing it with a dark red ribbon. As he leaned down, his ink-black tresses cascaded around them, shielding them from prying eyes. Trapped in this secluded space, Qi Yan could see nothing but the Second Prince’s strikingly perfect face.

Whether it was the alcohol or not, Qi Yan’s heartbeat quickened uncontrollably. He shuddered as Xiao Shao drew nearer and nearer, until those thin lips landed once more on his earlobe.

It tingled.

The lightest touch, yet it tightened his stomach. The tingling in his earlobe spread, leaving his body boneless.

In this daze, Xiao Shao narrowed his eyes and whispered, "How much do you remember about the Hedong Silver Vault?"

"..."

Qi Yan opened his eyes. Xiao Shao’s gaze was clear, his expression composed. Despite having downed two jars of wine earlier, he showed no signs of intoxication.

A sudden surge of irritation rose in Qi Yan. He pressed his knee against Xiao Shao, attempting to push him away.

The resistance was futile. Xiao Shao easily pinned him down, raising an eyebrow. "After all I’ve done, Xiao Tanhu? Now, tell me everything you know about the Silver Case."

Qi Yan turned his face away with difficulty. "I don’t know that much."

During Xiao Shao’s reign, the records of the Hedong Silver Vault case had been burned. Those who handled the case back then had either died, gone mad, or been exiled to the borders—leaving no one left who knew.

This was clearly abnormal.

Such an important case should have been kept under lock and key, with multiple copies archived. Under Emperor Jianning’s rule, the records had been complete. Yet, only Crown Prince Xiao Yi’s short reign separated them—and in those few years, all traces of the case had vanished. The only one who could have pulled this off unnoticed was Xiao Yi himself.

But why would Xiao Yi destroy the records? What connection did he have with the missing silver?

Having been reborn, Xiao Shao had his sights set on the throne. He had no patience to keep up the act for years, waiting for his brother to die first. Instead, he intended to use this case to pry—uncover evidence that could knock Xiao Yi off his perch.

Moreover...

Xiao Shao took advantage of their position to pinch Qi Yan’s earlobe.

Qi Yan was slender, but his earlobes were plump and soft to the touch, so soft it made you want to bite. They say full earlobes mean good fortune in Buddhism, but Qi Yan had received none of that fortune—his family was destroyed, and after entering the palace, he lived in destitution, treading on thin ice.

Though Xiao Shao was reluctant to admit it, he felt a pang for him.

That refined youth who once rode triumphant through the streets should not have met such an end.

Furthermore, Xiao Shao stroked his chin—if this case could make Xiao Tanhu owe him a favor and serve him willingly—slaving day and night without complaint—that would be even better.

With them huddled together, no one paid them any attention. Qi Yan lowered his voice and recounted the details of the case.

The case itself was not complicated.

At the time, Qi Chen had been appointed as the Salt Censor of Hedong Circuit, overseeing the transportation of salt and iron in the region. On his very first day in office, he ordered the silver vault opened for an inventory check.

It was late in the evening, and the vault was dimly lit. Someone held up a torch for illumination, and Qi Chen, along with accompanying officials, saw with their own eyes chests brimming with gleaming silver ingots, stacked like hillocks.

After the inspection, Song Lvyang, the governor of Hedong, handed the vault key to Qi Chen. The key was specially made, with only one copy in existence. Qi Chen accepted it and returned to the prefectural office, joining Song Lvyang and others for a banquet. Later, in his report to the throne, he mentioned this detail.

Three days later, Song Lvyang sent an urgent memorial to the emperor, accusing Salt Censor Qi Chen of corruption and embezzlement, stealing silver from the vault. His words cut like blades, sending shockwaves through the court. Officials were dispatched to investigate, and when Qi Chen reopened the vault under public scrutiny, they found it completely empty—nothing remained but tattered wooden chests.

The entire vault’s silver had disappeared into thin air.

To empty the vault within three days was impossible without the main gate key.

The only one who had the key was Qi Chen.

Yet Qi Chen insisted the vault had never been opened and refused to disclose the silver’s whereabouts. Despite round after round of interrogations under torture by the Eastern Depot and the prison, no useful information was extracted. His entire family was implicated, leading to their ruin—wives torn from husbands, children scattered, and the household destroyed.

The once-proud Xiao Tanhu, with flowers in his hair riding through the streets, became the man he was now.

Qi Yan whispered, “I saw my father in prison. He said that after returning from the vault, he had been dizzy, nauseous, and weak, suffering from diarrhea. But as it was cold then, and Hedong had just seen heavy snowfall, he thought it was just a chill or acclimatization and paid it no mind. For three days, he lay ill in bed, in a feverish haze. When he finally regained clarity, the Eastern Depot’s supervising eunuch was standing before him with an imperial decree.”

Xiao Shao asked, “Did the key ever leave his possession?”

Qi Yan replied, “Never.”

Xiao Shao muttered, “Suspicious.”

They whispered together at the edge of the banquet, so cozy it looked to outsiders like they were lost in passion. Xiao Shao staggered drunkenly to his feet, swaying as he leaned against a pillar, then pulled Qi Yan close and locked him in his embrace.

Then, with a careless flourish, he cupped his hands toward Song Lvyang and said casually, “Governor Song, esteemed guests, I shall excuse myself.”

Naturally, no one dared stop him.

The two departed together, with Xiao Shao taking Qi Yan back to his residence. Once the doors were locked, Qi Yan was about to continue discussing the case when Xiao Shao pushed him down onto the bed.

Xiao Shao pinned him down, his body radiating heat through their clothes. Before Qi Yan could react, Xiao Shao whispered, “There’s someone on the roof.”

Qi Yan froze, then indeed heard faint rustling—the sound of footsteps on tiles.

Xiao Shao tilted his head to listen. A tile at the upper right corner of the bed was lifted, and a silvery sliver of moonlight spilled onto the floor. He shifted to shield Qi Yan completely, then suddenly began undressing.

His boots, jade belt, and outer robe fell away one by one. He reached for Qi Yan’s belt, pulling it loose, then soothingly stroked the back of his neck before leaning in to breathe into his ear, “Xiao Tanhu, Song Lvyang doesn’t trust us. He’s sent someone to watch us. Make some noise.”

Qi Yan tensed. “…What?”

Xiao Shao: "Make some noise."

Qi Yan gritted his teeth, his voice barely louder than a mosquito’s buzz. Before he could finish, Xiao Shao chuckled, "Louder—or it won’t be convincing."

As he spoke, one hand slid to Qi Yan’s waist, applying deliberate manipulation. Under the pressure, Qi Yan was forced to let out two strangled whimpers.

The moonlight dimmed as someone slid the roof tile back into place.

Xiao Shao held Qi Yan pinned for another quarter of an hour before finally rising.

With mock courtesy, he picked up the belt and handed it back. Qi Yan, seething in silence, roughly fastened it. Xiao Shao strode out ahead of him, stepping through the door.

They scaled the estate wall. Xiao Shao bought an old horse from a vendor who hadn’t packed up yet and reached out to Qi Yan. "Get on."

Qi Yan mounted the horse, and Xiao Shao, undeterred, whipped the reins into a gallop toward the silver vault.

The silver vault crouched at the foot of Qinglong Mountain in the western part of the city, backed against the mountain with only one accessible path. Passing through a desolate village, they noticed a sun-bleached tavern banner at its entrance. Xiao Shao wiped a hand over a seat—coated in grime.

He frowned slightly. "This village..."

Judging by the decay of the doors and windows and the cobwebs hanging from the eaves, the tavern had been vacant only briefly—perhaps three to six months. Yet its size suggested it had once been bustling, with enough tables and benches outside to seat over a dozen patrons. How could such a place be completely deserted within just three months?

Skirting the village, they continued along the road. Soon, they reached the outskirts of the silver vault, only to see phantom structures looming on Qinglong Mountain—pavilions, towers, and ornate pillars stacked layer upon layer in the distance.

But these buildings stood silent and lifeless, devoid of any light. Nestled in the wilderness, they seemed like haunts for wandering ghosts, eerie and out of place.

Xiao Shao rubbed his chin. "Earlier, someone mentioned Qinglong Mountain is haunted."

Qi Yan shook his head. "Qinglong Mountain was once the burial ground for the lineage of Prince An from the previous dynasty. The An princes guarded this land for generations, passing down the title for over eight reigns. There are eight royal tombs on the mountain—those pavilions must be their sacrificial halls and stone monuments."

He glanced around. "I’ve heard descendants of Prince An still keep vigil at the tombs today. Perhaps we’ll meet a tomb keeper."

Xiao Shao released the reins, shifting his gaze from the structures. "Since they’re tombs from the previous dynasty, they likely have no connection to this case. Let’s head to the vault first."

Following the narrow path, they rode another mile or two until they reached the marked location of the vault on the map. But the moment Qi Yan dismounted, his brow furrowed.

The air reeked of burning and charcoal.

The towering vault was nowhere to be seen—replaced instead by a stretch of blackened scorched earth.

The silver vault had been reduced to ashes.

Just like the inexplicably vanished records.

Xiao Shao leaped off the horse, arching a brow. "Interesting."