The main hall was warmed by charcoal basins, yet even by midnight, the cold remained unyielding. Guan Zhaojing entered, carrying a red-lacquered tray, and with a slight bow, placed the cup on the desk. Turning back to glance at the Western-style clock, he hurried to his master’s side and whispered, “It’s late. Have something to eat and rest! No matter how difficult the matter, you must take care of your health. Everything rests on your shoulders. If you were to fall ill, the Princess Consort would be even more at a loss.”
He remained silent, turning instead to gaze at the Five-colored Golden Dragon on the throne. The dragon glared down at him, jaws bared, as if mocking his incompetence.
Back when Hongzan oversaw both the salt and grain administrations, those under his command all praised Prince Zhuang for his generosity. He had once sent someone to investigate—Hongzan embezzled vast sums, yet his fingers were loose, freely dispensing rewards without favoritism. Those in the know kept silent, savoring their gains, while those unaware spread his virtuous reputation far and wide. Thus, in official circles, Hongzan was hailed as a benevolent and wise prince, far more esteemed than Seventh Master, the so-called Prince Xian, who engaged in petty, dishonorable deeds.
Hongzan had built a faction, winning hearts and minds. To uproot him would implicate half the court—such a daunting task! Yet the Emperor was resolute. To reform governance and end factional strife, the ringleader had to be exposed. In a nation, in a court, when too many held sway, power became fragmented. Thus, the net had to be drawn tight. And he—he was forever the blade wielded to cut down foes. Did he resent it? Yes, deeply. But someone had to do it. When the Emperor declared, “We have high hopes for our twelfth brother,” any complaint he might have had died on his lips.
Hongzan was like an enormous drum, tightly stretched and nailed shut, without a single gap. And Jilantai? He happened to be a loose copper nail. Pry him open, and the entire drumskin could be peeled away.
So close, yet so out of reach. Should they continue to let him be, dancing around him indefinitely? He gritted his teeth. “Summon Lu Shenchen and Ha Gang.”
Guan Zhaojing acknowledged the order with a “Yes” and hurried off.
The two arrived swiftly, kneeling at the entrance. “At your command, Master. We stand ready to serve.”
He motioned for them to rise. “This case is difficult. Now, only one move remains. Tomorrow, I will enter the Ministry of Justice’s prison with Prince Rui and the Chief Minister of the Court of Judicial Review. Ha Gang, pick two unfamiliar faces to intimidate Jilantai. Wen Lu was hanged—follow the same method. Leave your words half-spoken, let him fill in the gaps himself. If the name ‘Hongzan’ so much as slips from his lips, our task is half done.”
A stratagem of sowing discord? Not a bad idea. Yet Ha Gang hesitated. “What if this man refuses to yield? Jilantai is a military man, once fought the Russians under the Western Expedition General. If he clenches his teeth and stays silent, surely we can’t actually hang him?”
Hongce raised a hand. “No matter. At the critical moment, I’ll send jailers to save him. Whether he talks or not, you must string him up. A brush with death will make him loathe Hongzan to the bone. Besides, Jilantai fears death—once, a defiant prisoner’s roar made him wet himself. Cut off his retreat, and he’s nothing but a spineless weakling, hardly worth fearing.”Lu Shenchen smiled and said, "If it truly goes as Your Highness predicted, the case should be resolved within three to five days. Hanging him half to death will surely be unbearable. Then we'll send someone clever to persuade him. Once he reflects and realizes Prince Zhuang's lack of benevolence, he'll have no qualms about betraying him. There's no worry he won't reveal the mastermind."
It was like a sudden epiphany—a ray of sunlight breaking through long-overcast skies, illuminating a hopeful path forward. He had initially considered luring the enemy into a trap, but Hongzan was too cunning to fall for it. Now, reversing the approach seemed promising under careful consideration.
He meticulously planned the details: where Hongxun and the Minister of Justice would observe from, when to lead Jilantai into the noose, and when to have the jailers cut him down—every moment had to be timed perfectly. Though the methods were extreme, as long as the case could be solved, he didn’t care if the Emperor later held him accountable.
Dingyi had been struggling during this time. Previously disguised as a man, she could roam freely around the capital. But now, after visiting Langrun Garden with him, she had to adapt to a woman’s life. Which Princess Consort of a princely household would openly run about outside? Though they weren’t yet formally married, her every word and action already reflected on his dignity. She restrained herself for his sake, like a bird with broken wings, spending her days staring blankly at the Water Caltrop Window, waiting for news.
It pained him to see her endure this. She never complained or pressed him, knowing well the weight he carried. During their quiet moments together, she would place her slender yet strong fingers over his hand. For her sake, he had to resolve the case swiftly. Hongzan had ignited his fighting spirit—he was the type to repay kindness tenfold, but if pushed, he would drag his adversary down even at the cost of mutual destruction.
Satisfied with the thorough plan, he exhaled deeply. She was in the rear chamber; he ought to share the news to give her some hope.
After Lu Shenchen and Daiqin left, he carried a candle through the hallway. A maid lifted the curtain for him as he entered. She wasn’t asleep yet, reclining against an armrest pillow, lost in thought over her embroidery.
"It’s late. You should rest," he said, sitting beside her on the kang and studying her face, which had grown thinner lately, making her eyes appear even larger and more pitiful.
She smiled faintly. "Did your discussions run this late?"
He hummed in agreement, about to speak, when she straightened up. "The steward is outside. It seems something’s happened—he’s waiting to report to you."
"Then I’ll go see." He softened his voice. "It’s cold out—stay here."
Gathering his robe, he stepped into the outer chamber. The moment he crossed the threshold, he was met with Guan Zhaojing’s grim expression. A sense of foreboding struck him, though he couldn’t yet pinpoint what had gone wrong.
"My lord…" Guan Zhaojing glanced toward the bedchamber and whispered, "A disaster has occurred. Officials from the Ministry of Justice are waiting in the duty room. They say… your brother-in-law has died in prison."
The words hit like a thunderbolt. Hongce swayed on his feet, doubting his own ears. "What did you say? Repeat that!"
Guan Zhaojing’s lips trembled. "During the night patrol, the guards noticed something amiss in his cell—he was hunched over, so they summoned a physician, thinking he was ill. But upon examination… he was already dead. The Minister of Justice is at a loss and has sent for Your Highness to discuss how to proceed and draft a memorial…"Guan Zhaojing's words trailed off abruptly as his gaze fixed over Dingyi's shoulder, his body shuddering violently. He turned in horror to see Dingyi's face ashen, her limbs stiff as she took a faltering step forward. "What did you say? Who died?"
Naturally, Guan Zhaojing dared not answer, shrinking back as he sought guidance from his master. Hongce was equally panicked, his mind in such turmoil that he couldn't think straight. All he knew was that he couldn't let her suffer too much, even though this terrible news might as well be a death sentence for her.
He moved to support her, his voice hoarse as he said, "Don't panic, I'll go see—"
She ignored him completely, shoving him aside and stumbling down the steps. Left with no choice, he snatched up the cape and hurried after her, wanting to offer comfort but finding himself unable to speak.
Dingyi bit her lip, swallowing back the tears that threatened to spill over. She refused to believe Rujian was dead—they must have made a mistake. Her brother had always been clever; perhaps he had devised some scheme to deceive everyone.
Her chest ached with a suffocating pain, waves of blood surging upward, afraid that opening her mouth would cause her to vomit. She clutched at her collar, her head pounding, ears filled with a thunderous ringing. Her legs gave way as she stepped out of the carriage, forcing herself to struggle into the Ministry of Justice prison. But once past the gates, she hesitated, too terrified to go further, consumed by boundless fear. She kept telling herself that no matter how scared she was, she had to uncover the truth. Rujian was still inside—she had to see him, had to confirm he was alright.
Those imprisoned for crimes couldn't leave alive unless exonerated. Since Rujian was still in the prison, did that mean he was alive? Trembling, she inched forward, her shoes silent against the muddy ground. As she drew closer, she looked up at the high windows. She remembered the way from her last visit with Seventh Lord, but her heart was uneasy, as if an invisible hand were choking her. Even with Hongce by her side, he couldn't share her burden.
The cells were separated by wooden bars, allowing glimpses of the other side through the gaps. Several officials in uniform stood in the corridor, hands tucked into their sleeves, saying, "Search thoroughly—not a single hair or nail must be overlooked. Once the cause of death is determined, we'll report it to the higher-ups."
Dingyi froze mid-step, those two words—"cause of death"—striking her like a hammer, shattering her soul. Summoning strength from somewhere, she lifted her skirt and dashed forward, startling the officials, who shouted, "Who is this? Who let her in?"
Hongce stepped forward, his throat tight as he looked at the figure lying on the ground. Struggling to steady his voice, he clasped his hands and said, "I brought her here. Please be accommodating."
The officials from the Ministry of Justice immediately knelt upon seeing him, kowtowing repeatedly. "We failed in our duty, allowing the prisoner to die in custody. We will submit a report to the court tomorrow and willingly accept punishment."
Punishment—a life was lost just like that. Who could repay it with another life?
Dingyi couldn't believe it. She simply couldn't accept that Rujian, who had been busy drying straw just days ago, now lay on the cold, muddy ground, a lifeless corpse. She collapsed, crawling toward him on hands and knees, checking his breath, pressing his wrist, and whispering, "Third Brother, why aren't you sleeping on the mat? Are you pretending to be sick lying on the ground? Get up—if you catch a cold, I won't take care of you."He lay silent and still, his face as pale as paper, yet his brow was smooth. She could no longer remember what he had been like before the age of fifteen. Since their reunion, he had always been burdened with worries, rarely showing any joy. Now, he was free from all troubles—but he was dead.
She touched his face, now devoid of any warmth, and murmured, "I came too late." Wiping the blood from the corners of his mouth and chin, she suddenly lost all strength, resting her forehead against his arm in despair.
Her breath came in ragged gasps, as if it might stop at any moment, the pain so sharp it numbed her heart. Fate had been so cruel in severing family ties, leaving her alone and desolate once more. If Heaven had intended to take back this grace, why had it allowed them to reunite as siblings in the first place? All her hardships had only bought her a single year together.
At last, she broke into loud sobs, shaking him violently as if mad. "Third Brother, you can't leave me... Answer me, talk to me, please..."
Hongce could do nothing to ease her pain. He could only step forward and hold her tightly, but her strength was so great that she shoved him aside, staggering him. When she turned to look at him, the anguish in her eyes was terrifying.
"Who killed my Third Brother?" She stood up, glaring fiercely at the officials present. "Isn't the Ministry of Justice supposed to be impenetrable? Aren't there countless experts guarding it? How could my brother die in prison? You must give me an answer, or I will go to the Meridian Gate and strike the grievance drum, demanding justice from the Emperor!"
The officials exchanged uneasy glances. Rumors of her connection to Prince Chun had reached their ears, and none dared to confront her directly. The coroner stammered, "Judging by the lividity, the incident likely occurred around Hai hour. Upon examination, no wounds were found, but a silver needle test of the throat revealed signs of poisoning..."
"So he was poisoned to death?" Hongce ground his teeth and spat out a bitter "Good." "The Ministry of Justice of Great Britain, the very institution meant to uphold the law, allowed a man to die inexplicably under its watch. I ask you—each of you holds a first or second-rank title—what exactly are you doing?"
His fury silenced the high-ranking officials. Minister Chen Liutong trembled as he bowed repeatedly. "It was our negligence, but all food and tea in the prison are inspected by designated personnel, and every visitor must present credentials. We have already investigated all supplies from dusk to the hour of Ren and interrogated every guard on duty, but nothing unusual was found. Could it be..."
Hongce frowned. "Could it be what?"
"Could it be that Wen Rujian... took his own life out of guilt..."
This only stoked Hongce's anger further. "Are you the chief official of the court or not? Wasn't it your duty to determine whether Wen Rujian was a fugitive or a victim of trafficking? Since his crimes were not punishable by death, why would he kill himself out of guilt? He was poisoned—this is a failure of your oversight! How did the poison enter the prison? Don't tell me he carried it with him just in case. Ask yourself honestly—do you even believe such nonsense?"
Chen Liutong had no retort. After a hesitant pause, he clasped his hands and said, "I am at fault, Your Highness speaks rightly. Now that the coroner has completed the examination, the body should be dealt with promptly. May I ask for Your Highness's instructions—should it be sent to the charity burial ground or released to the family?"Delivered to the charity cemetery, lying alone in a dark room crawling with snakes and insects, waiting to be buried in a random pit once the yamen no longer cared—such would have been the end of his journey. Dingyi clenched her teeth and shook her head. "I can't let him become a wandering ghost. I'll take him back, mourn him properly, and send him off with dignity."
That was how it should have been. Hongce, after all, felt guilty toward the siblings and dared not say much. He turned and ordered Lu Shenchen to prepare a coffin. She swayed unsteadily like a withered leaf in the wind, and he, worried, reached out to steady her. But she pushed him away coldly, keeping him at arm's length. "Have someone take him back to Wine and Vinegar Bureau Alley. Don’t interfere with what comes next—I can handle it myself."
His heart sank. "Why must you be like this..."
She acted as if she hadn’t heard him. Squatting down, she took Rujian’s hand and swallowed her sobs. "Third Brother, you suffered. Your sister is taking you home."
The judicial commissioner’s yamen had a special stretcher for transporting corpses. Two jailers lifted the body onto it, with Dingyi supporting from the side. Just as they stepped out of the prison gate, a startled cry from a yamen runner made her turn back. There, beneath the withered grass in the corner, was a faintly visible bloodstained character, crookedly scrawled: "Manor."
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