The weather had cleared up, the sun shining warmly. Just after the New Year, the festive atmosphere had faded, leaving behind a hollow, lazy desolation. Dingyi sat hugging her knees on the steps, the sunlight beating down on her head until her scalp grew hot. Her mind was blank, fixated on one matter that had weighed on her heart for too long, gradually becoming indistinct. She decided not to dwell on it and had the servants pack some bedding and prepare food. It had been two or three days since she last saw Rujian, and now was the usual time for prison visits. She planned to bribe the jailers to at least get a word in with him.
She was considering whether to bring Hailan along when the gatekeeper’s voice came from outside, "Seventh Lord, Happy New Year! Please come in."
Dingyi looked up to see Seventh Lord stepping over the threshold with measured strides. She rose to greet him, "Where are you coming from, Seventh Lord?"
Seventh Lord replied, "From the Ministry of Justice. Hongce was presiding over a trial earlier, and I stayed to observe." He shook his head. "It was a joint trial by the Three Judicial Offices and Nine Ministers—things look very grim. Jilantai not only refused to implicate Hongzan but even denied his own crimes. Hongzan and Hongce ended up arguing in court. Eventually, they brought up your relationship, claiming the presiding judge might be biased and should recuse himself. Your father’s case might be handed over to someone else."
Her heart sank as she listened. Her eyelids had been twitching these past few days, a sign that things wouldn’t go smoothly. She had thought that if all else failed, she could simply deny any connection to Hongce. But now, Rujian’s life rested entirely in the hands of the presiding judge. If someone else took over mid-trial, the risks were too terrifying to contemplate.
"If they change judges, who would it be?"
Seventh Lord pursed his lips in thought. "Either Prince Yu or Prince Rui. But Hongce has his own argument—he denies you’re Wen Lu’s daughter, claiming you’re just a distant cousin with little contact between the families and no knowledge of Rujian’s background. He said you only spent New Year’s Eve together out of tradition, which would absolve you of harboring a criminal." He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "Twelfth Master is really in a tough spot this time. The excuse sounds flimsy—would you believe it? Now it’s up to the palace to decide. They’ve gone to see the Emperor. If His Majesty intends to show favor, Twelfth Master’s position as presiding judge won’t be shaken. But times have changed—they can’t be too blatant about it, not with so many eyes watching."
Dingyi thought of Mu Liansheng. "What happened to my nanny’s husband after we returned from Langrun Garden that day?"
Seventh Lord nodded. "Disposed of. We initially planned to use him against Hongzan—turning his own weapon against him. But then we thought it best not to bring it before the Emperor to avoid further complications. Huai Tree Residence is surrounded by graves—slit his throat, bury him, and that’s the end of it."
Though she hated him, hearing of his fate still unsettled her. But in this world, it was kill or be killed—every man for himself.
A maid came to report that the items she had requested were ready and asked whether to store them or load them onto the carriage. She glanced back at Seventh Lord. "I need to go to the Ministry of Justice prison now. Please make yourself at home."
Seventh Lord hesitated. "Given the current situation, it’s best not to stir up more trouble. Here’s what—I’ll go with you. Change your clothes and disguise yourself as my attendant. Don’t say much—just a few words and then leave."That would be for the best, Dingyi agreed, quickly finding her old clothes to change into. It was worth carrying them all the way from Ningguta to Shanxi and back to the capital—they came in handy at crucial moments.
Once ready, she headed straight to the Ministry of Justice. The prison there was even stricter than the one in Shuntian Prefecture, holding only the most serious offenders of the imperial court. Not just anyone could enter. Fortunately, Seventh Lord’s face was like a universal pass—just standing there was enough to clear any checkpoint.
The guards, having received their reward, bowed and scraped as they led them into the dungeon. The place was pitch-dark, surrounded by walls as solid as iron. Torches flickered deep inside, and a small window high up on the two-man-tall wall let in a square beam of sunlight so bright it stung the eyes.
The air was foul—eating, drinking, and relieving oneself all happened in the same place, compounded by the dampness. The stench was enough to make one retch. Seventh Lord covered his nose, exclaiming he couldn’t take it, but Dingyi was unfazed. Back in Shuntian Prefecture, when she had to escort prisoners to the execution grounds, she often passed through such places—nothing new to her.
Rujian’s cell was close to the window, probably the best spot in the dungeon. Every inch of sunlight was precious here, and he made full use of it. As Dingyi approached, she saw Rujian, seemingly unbothered, actually spreading straw to dry in the light.
She called softly, “Third Brother,” swallowing a sob. “Stop drying the straw. I’ve brought you a mattress—much better than straw.”
Rujian showed neither joy nor sorrow, turning his head to say, “This filthy place—you shouldn’t be here. Leave the things and go back.”
How could she leave without reassurance? She pressed, “Have they given you trouble? Did they beat you?”
“No,” Rujian said. “Prince Zhuang accused me of desertion, but I’m no fool. It’s obvious I was sold. Would I let them pin that on me? Don’t worry, I’m safe for now. But Jilantai refuses to talk. My accusation against Prince Zhuang is useless without evidence. From today’s interrogation, it seems Father’s case isn’t looking good…” He suddenly smiled. “I should’ve died with Ruliang and the others. Every day since has been a gift. Take care of yourself. No matter what happens to me, don’t get involved. You’re a girl—you shouldn’t bear so much. If the case can’t be overturned, it’s fate. As children, we’ve done all we can… But Za’er, you’re the one I worry about most in here.”
As the siblings spoke quietly, Seventh Lord, dizzy from the stench, missed most of their conversation. He only caught the last line and immediately declared, “If Hongce treats her badly, I’ll step in. I’ll look after her—she won’t suffer. You just stay steady in here. No matter what happens outside, stick to your story—you were sold. At worst, you’ll be sent back to Changbai Mountain, and I’ll find a way to get you out. I can’t help with the lawsuit, but I’m great at behind-the-scenes moves. Don’t worry—eat, sleep, the sky won’t fall.”
His offer was unconventional but sincere. Rujian clasped his hands in gratitude. “Seventh Lord, we’ve grown up together—no need for words. Your promise puts me at ease. I can’t even take care of myself now, let alone my sister. Though Twelfth Master dotes on her, another brother’s care never hurts… I’ll always remember your great kindness.”Seventh Lord felt a pang of sorrow—it seemed his fate was only ever to address the one he loved as a sister. But it didn’t matter, as long as she was happy. He and Rujian had been friends since childhood; at the very least, he wouldn’t fail his trust.
Dingyi couldn’t shake off a vague unease, though she couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong and hesitated to ask. Just then, a jailer came in to hurry them along, forcing a smile as he addressed Seventh Lord, “My good lord, it’s about time. We lowly servants bear responsibilities on our shoulders—ordinarily, visits aren’t permitted. Today’s an exception, and we beg Your Highness to show some understanding, so we can give a proper account to our superiors.”
Seventh Lord impatiently waved him off, “Enough of your nonsense! Is it against the law for me to bring bedding to an old friend? Go report to Chen Liutong—tell him I came today. If he’s got a problem, he can come arrest me at Prince Xian’s Residence. I’ll be waiting!”
The jailer froze, stammering and unsure how to respond. Afraid the situation might escalate, Dingyi tugged at Seventh Lord’s sleeve and said, “Please calm down. We’ve seen him and delivered the things—let’s go back now.” Then she whispered to Rujian, “Things aren’t hopeless yet. Stay patient. I’ll leave for now and come see you again in a few days.”
Rujian nodded, and only then did Seventh Lord grunt in agreement, “Fine, let’s go.” But after taking a few steps, a sudden, shrill scream startled them. Seventh Lord frowned, “Who’s that? Sounds like a maniac.”
The jailer bowed with an awkward chuckle, “That’s Duke Zhen, Jilantai. Probably throwing a fit again over the food.” As he spoke, he gestured to guide them out.
Meanwhile, Hongce entered the palace for an audience with the Emperor. The Emperor, weighing the pros and cons, decided to split the blame since doubts remained. Both Hongce and Hongzan were implicated in Wen Lu’s case, so to avoid partiality, it was handed over to Prince Rui and the Court of Judicial Review. As for Duke Zhen’s bribery and the assassination of the Salt Inspector of Liangzhe—a case originally handled by Hongce—changing hands abruptly would disrupt the proceedings. Thus, Prince Chun was ordered to expedite the trial and submit the verdict to the Censorate, with no further involvement afterward.
This imperial decree seemed to strip Hongce of authority, yet he still held the Jilantai case and remained entangled in Wen Lu’s affair. However, the situation had reached a deadlock. With the ledger left behind by the late Salt Inspector, Jilantai had no chance of acquittal. But his refusal to name accomplices meant the flames wouldn’t spread to Hongzan.
Hongce slammed the gavel, “With witnesses and evidence in hand, do you think your silver tongue can outmaneuver me? Do you even grasp the gravity of your crimes? Take this chance to redeem yourself. I know you were just a front—the real masterminds behind the grain and salt routes are the ones pulling the strings. Your crimes aren’t punishable by death. But if you insist on shielding them, you’ll bear the full brunt, and it won’t just be house arrest or exile.”
Jilantai remained unmoved, “The grain and salt trades are intricate—procurement, transport, trade, allocation, taxation—all require coordination. Your Highness served in Khalkha, a military post. The salt routes involve dealings with officials and merchants—a civil matter. Those who don’t manage a household don’t understand its costs. With all due respect, how many times have you been south of the Yangtze? Do you know how the waterways of Liangzhe are laid out, or how many acres of salt fields there are?”He openly provoked, yet Hongce remained unruffled, merely saying, "Civil and military affairs are intertwined. Since this Prince can suppress the Khalkha rebellion, handling a minor Duke like you is no challenge. Whether you admit guilt or not matters little—I’ll submit two memorials to the palace, and His Majesty will render a fair judgment. I advise you to consider your entire family, to recall Wen Lu from thirteen years ago. Isn’t such a precedent enough to serve as your warning?"
Mention of family always stirs emotions. Jilantai’s eyes flickered, and despite the bitter cold, sweat beaded on his forehead. But after only a brief pause, he drew a sharp breath and retorted, "Is Your Highness coercing a confession? Even if I submit, my entire family remains part of the Imperial Clan. The late High Ancestor left edicts—the court cannot mistreat them."
Hongce snorted. "When Wen Lu was sentenced to death with a stay of execution, his properties and female relatives were spared. So why was his entire family exterminated? If the court won’t act, others will. Your evasions will only drag down your entire household. Stop wasting my time—give me a clear answer today. It’s the New Year season; don’t force these officials to freeze alongside you. Push me too far, and you know the consequences."
His "consequences" naturally referred to control over Jilantai’s family. Trapped between a rock and a hard place, Jilantai clenched his fists, veins bulging on his neck. After a long struggle, as if realizing resistance was futile, he hung his head and said, "Fine. I embezzled and perverted justice—I confess. Your Highness may decide my fate. No need for repeated interrogations. Draft the charges, and I’ll sign. Beyond that, I have nothing to say."
Was he planning to shoulder it all alone? Hongce glanced at the assembled judges and pressed further, "You admit this so readily—then what of Wen Lu’s case? Back then, you both served in the Transport Bureau. He was acquainted with the murdered Salt Censor. To save yourself, did you frame him?"
At this point, uncovering the mastermind wasn’t the priority—clearing Wen Lu’s name would absolve Rujian’s case. Since he was confessing anyway, why not admit it all? But contrary to Hongce’s hopes, Jilantai sneered, "A case of this scale, involving millions in silver—do you think I alone could orchestrate it? Wen Lu was never innocent. The verdict from years ago was just. Why must Your Highness go to such lengths to exonerate him?"
"This Prince acts with impartiality. One more reckless word, and I won’t hesitate to apply severe torture." Hongce’s patience was wearing thin—the back-and-forth had gone on too long, grating even the steadiest nerves. Jilantai’s sudden confession lay outside his calculations. Though the officials perked up, Hongce ignored them, his voice icy. "If you were accomplices, why didn’t he expose you back then? Instead, his family faced execution or exile. Was it camaraderie, or was he simply defenseless? You know the truth. Given the unresolved doubts, we adjourn for now. Think it over—you can endure this stalemate, and so can I. Take the prisoner away. Court dismissed."
Bailiffs moved in with their rods to drag Jilantai out, but as he was hauled away, he shouted, "I’ve confessed—why delay the verdict?" His protests echoed all the way to the prison.The prison was silent, but he remained clamorous. As he passed Rujian’s cell, his steps halted abruptly. Grinding his teeth into a smirk, he sneered, "Wen the Third, don’t even dream of getting me to overturn your father’s case! I’m of the Imperial Clan, my veins flow with Yuwen blood. Even if convicted, I’ll still live in luxury. Instead of playing Slave Trader in Suifenhe, why come back crying for justice? Was it worth throwing your own life away? Your old man must be weeping in the underworld, you fool!"
Laughing wildly, he swaggered into the cell block, flaunting his Imperial Clan privilege.
Rujian seethed with resentment, his jaw clenched audibly. It was infuriating—every step had fallen short. He had planned to wait for the man’s confession before appealing for justice, only to end up ensnared himself. No doubt Prince Zhuang had already warned him, emboldening his arrogance. Once the confession was secured, the case would halt abruptly, leaving Hongzan unscathed, still sitting comfortably as a prince. How was this fair? Had his parents’ and brothers’ blood been shed for nothing?
The truth was, he had thought it through clearly the day he returned to Beijing. The reason he had endured humiliation all these years was the conviction driving him. Hongzan had thrived in officialdom for three decades—pinning him down was nearly impossible. Had it not been for Dingyi, Hongce would never have stirred this trouble. Now, entangled in the mess, progress stalled. If this lull persisted, the court might abandon the case altogether. Or worse, fearing an uncontrollable scandal, they might pin it all on Jilantai, muddle the facts, and let it fade into obscurity. Setting aside his family’s grievances, there was still Dingyi to consider. She was with the Twelfth Master now, but unless Hongzan was toppled, she would never know peace. His heart ached for his sister. He could bear hardship—he was a man, tempered by adversity. But she? She had lived humbly until nineteen, barely tasted a few good days, only to face endless storms again.
There was no more time to wait. Day by day, the case was cooling. His life was cheap; if it could buy Prince Zhuang’s downfall, the trade was more than worth it.
Leaning against the icy wall, he curled his lips in a bitter smile. He had expected Hongzan to make a move, but the man never came—smart indeed. Any mishap in prison would point straight to him. Jilantai might act tough, but he was a paper tiger. Shatter his facade, break his defenses, and he might just fear becoming the next Wen Lu.
He lifted his robe, revealing a pair of butterflies embroidered on the hem of his undergarment—tiny, their antennae delicate, their patterns dazzling. Stroking them gently, he sighed. The only regret was Hailan. If they had never met, she wouldn’t have suffered so much grief.
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