Rujian's death was not in vain after all. The case had gone cold, but someone at court submitted a memorial urging the conclusion of the Jilantai case. If not for this resurgence, Hongce would have had no means to delay further. Now, it presented an opportunity for him—and for the Emperor as well. The witness who had testified against Prince Zhuang had died a miserable death in prison. Since an imperial relative was implicated in a murder case, the court now had grounds for severe punishment.
The Emperor was furious. He suspended Hongzan from all duties at the Grand Council and the Imperial Study, placed him under house arrest, and ordered the Ministry of Justice to investigate jointly with the Censorate and the Court of Judicial Review. Every record of income, expenditure, and social connections from Prince Zhuang's residence over the years was to be meticulously documented and submitted for imperial review at the Palace of Heavenly Purity.
What member of the Imperial Clan could withstand such scrutiny? The vast princely estate was turned upside down—practically raided. Whether or not Hongzan was involved in the case of Wen Lu and his son, he could no longer escape unscathed. One must believe that the world is full of those who kick a man when he’s down. Seeing his impending downfall, anonymous impeachment memorials flooded in from all directions. The Emperor, seated in the Hall of Mental Cultivation, could foresee everything. Any one of these accusations, if proven true, would be enough to ensure he never rose again.
When the Empress received the news, she was deeply distressed. Dabbing her tears with a handkerchief, she said, "The rest doesn’t matter, but poor Dingyi... We all know she’s Wen Lu’s daughter. You’ve kept silent, so no one beneath dares to speak of it. Now, with her only brother killed by Hongzan, how can she bear it?"
The Emperor twisted the jade thumb ring on his finger and said mildly, "A great house should not be mismatched. Those two were never suited—why force them together? If the old man found out, he’d be furious. I pity the Twelfth Master and understand him. If he says Wen Dingyi has nothing to do with Wen Lu, then so be it! But look—that girl arranged Rujian’s funeral rites. Would an outsider go to such lengths? It’s only because I’ve kept it under wraps that outsiders pretend not to know."
The Empress clenched her teeth. "Blame Hongzan for being too ruthless—plucking the last sprout from the family. He’s well-versed in such matters. A man locked in the Ministry of Justice, and he could have him killed just like that. Quite the accomplishment."
The Emperor nodded and paced leisurely around the gilded incense burner, half his height. "So his cleverness was his undoing. If he hadn’t lost his composure, I might never have caught him."
"What about Dingyi?" the Empress asked, following behind him. "What’s to be done about her marriage to the Twelfth Master?"
The Emperor glanced back at her. "Your old weakness acting up again? A woman’s compassion... misleads a ruler."
The Empress pursed her lips and lowered her head. "I just can’t stand it. Later, I’ll speak to my father. Once this matter is settled, if Dingyi is willing, she can stay at our residence for a few days. We can adopt her as a goddaughter and arrange the marriage. After all, you’ve been cutting corners on this matter—what’s one more oversight?"
The Emperor scoffed, wanting to argue but ultimately relenting. He turned to examine the painted eaves and pointed. "Why is this patch bare? Send someone to fix it immediately... If the two of them are willing, then do as you say."The Empress sighed. In truth, women understood women best. Whether Dingyi and the Twelfth Master could have a future together was truly uncertain. She wasn't a girl raised in the inner chambers, nor did she possess that habitual dependence. If you set her free, she'd find her own way to survive—she could live without a man. The deaths of her parents and brothers were like thorns in her heart, embedded too deeply to ever be removed. As for herself, as an outsider, she could only do her best to create favorable conditions for her, but whether Dingyi would accept them was up to her.
In the distance, remnants of snow clung to the rooftops. She leaned against the window and gazed outside. Someone had flown a beautiful kite high above the Forbidden City, its fluttering growing fainter as it soared higher, slowly turning into an indistinct black dot before disappearing entirely.
While the imperial palace basked in tranquil days, the Ministry of Justice prison remained perpetually grim and terrifying.
Two jailers carried a bucket, delivering meals to each cell. When they reached the Duke Zhenguo's cell, they waited but saw no bowl extended. One jailer grew impatient and peered in, saying, "What's the matter with you? Afraid we poisoned the food? You haven't eaten all day—keep this up, and you'll waste away to nothing. Listen to me: if fortune comes, it comes; if disaster strikes, you can't avoid it. Just accept it. If you're going to die, at least die with a full belly."
The commotion last night had startled the entire prison. Suddenly, death felt so close that anyone would be terrified. Jilantai clutched the rim of his bowl with trembling fingers and hesitantly held it out. He had no energy left to care about their disrespect—only to ask, "That Wen Rujian... is he dead?"
The jailer scooped a ladle of mushy noodles into his bowl and replied casually, "Yeah, dead. They took him back to set up a memorial. What's the point of living anyway? In the end, it's just a matter of one last breath. Before he died, he wrote the character 'Zhuang'—wasn't that pointing fingers at Prince Zhuang? Damn, the Twelfth Master openly impeached Prince Zhuang in court. Now Prince Zhuang's luck has run out—stripped of his position, confined to his home."
Jilantai's eyes widened as if drenched by rain, his eyelids fluttering so much his pupils were barely visible. "You're saying Prince Zhuang has been confined?"
"Yep," the two jailers lifted their carrying pole. "Everyone who sided with Prince Zhuang's household is going down now. But he got rid of that Wen fellow—even if he took a big fall himself, it was worth it. Letting someone who holds your secrets live? That's just asking for death. Better to strike first."
The jailers moved to the next cell. Jilantai felt utterly drained and collapsed onto the floor. Prince Zhuang had fallen—but even in his downfall, he still had remnants of power and would eliminate those who knew too much. Wen Rujian was dead. Who would be next? He didn't dare think about it, clutching his head in his hands. Hongzan had promised to exonerate him, but now he couldn't even clean up his own mess—would he still spare him? If he wasn't ordered to be killed, that would already be a blessing.
He collapsed onto the pile of straw, the musty stench of rotten wheat stalks assaulting his senses. He didn't even have the energy to complain, staring blankly at the ceiling, his mind utterly empty.
He didn't know how much time had passed when, in his daze, he heard the clinking of chains at the door. He scrambled to his feet. Two men stood there, dressed as bailiffs, their hats pulled low, obscuring their faces.
At this hour of the night, an interrogation shouldn't be happening now. He took a step back. "Which ministry are you from?"
The two men entered, swiftly restraining him. Afraid he might shout, they covered his mouth."Which department are you from?" One of them chuckled, "The King of Hell's department. Our master invites you for tea."
He struggled with muffled cries as the other leisurely pulled out his belt, tying a noose on the prison door. "Yesterday, someone came by and let you off easy. But we’ve got orders—work to be done. Paid to do a job, so we’ll see it through. You’ll have to forgive us, Your Grace."
Jilantai refused to accept his fate. Summoning all his strength, he finally broke free, clutching his pants and about to scream for help when a blade pressed against his throat. "Think this is a theater, planning to belt out a tune? How about a clean stab in, bloody stab out? Go ahead, try me."
Tears streamed down Jilantai’s face as he cursed, "Thirty years I’ve served him, and even if there’s no credit, there’s hard work! Now he turns his back on me—Yuwen Hongzan, damn his ancestors eight generations back!"
The two exchanged a smirk. "Don’t blame the wrong man. Prince Zhuang didn’t send us."
"Bullshit! If it’s not him, then who? Got the guts to kill but scared I’ll haunt him in the underworld—"
His vulgar rant was cut short as the noose tightened around his neck. "When you see Censor Wen down below, do us a favor and pass along our regards. Tell him we wish him peace." With a swift kick to his legs, he lost balance, his full weight now hanging by the neck. His eyes rolled back instantly, choking for air.
Behind a wooden partition, several princes and high officials listened intently, brows furrowed. The guard sent out returned to report. Hongce had achieved his goal. With a wave, he ordered Jilantai cut down. Without a word, he led the group into the tea room.
"My ears aren’t what they used to be—didn’t catch what Jilantai said. But you all heard clearly, yes?" He clasped his hands. "For now, please return. Tomorrow, the court will deliver its verdict." The officials murmured assent and filed out. The thirteenth prince lingered, and Hongce pulled him aside by the doorframe. "I’ve been exhausted lately. Once Jilantai confesses tomorrow, Hongzan is yours to handle. Consider Wen Lu’s case a personal favor from your elder brother—do what you can for me. I received word yesterday: Khalkha is unstable. I’ll likely be sent to suppress the rebellion soon... Once I leave, who knows when I’ll return..." He shook his head, desolate.
Hongxun gripped his wrist. "Twelfth Brother, you’re pushing yourself too hard. If the court dispatches troops, feign illness and decline."
He sighed but shook his head again, offering no further words as he stepped into the moonlight.
Instead of returning to Prince Chun’s residence, he went straight to Wine and Vinegar Bureau Alley. At the entrance, white cloth draped the eaves, the courtyard filled with paper chariots and horses, rustling softly alongside the monks’ chants and chimes.
Sha Tong approached to greet him. He glanced toward the house. "Everything prepared?"
Sha Tong nodded. "The Fengshui master calculated the burial time—tomorrow at dusk."
He hummed in acknowledgment. "And the Princess Consort?"Sha Tong said with a sorrowful expression, "The Princess Consort won't let us call her that anymore... Ever since the uncle was laid on the deathbed, she's been staying by his side without leaving for a moment. You weren't here this afternoon, but Miss Suo came, crying so bitterly..." He patted his knee and sighed, "This servant has never seen anything so tragic. If the Suo family hadn't forcibly taken her away, she might have followed him by now. When you think about it, with the uncle gone, leaving the Princess Consort and his wife behind, they're the most pitiful ones."
Yes, one was his sister, the other his fiancée who had waited faithfully for over a decade. They thought they had overcome the hardships and good days were ahead, only to have their hopes dashed.
His nose stung as he turned his face away. He was worried about Dingyi, yet somewhat afraid to see her. After hesitating for a long time, he finally stepped onto the porch.
She knelt there in mourning clothes, her slender profile looking desolate. After offering incense, he approached her and said softly, "I've arranged for someone to keep vigil for you. You won't last like this—go back and rest for a while."
She didn't even turn her head. He knew she blamed him, and he blamed himself too, but it was too late for words. His heart wrenched, his lips trembling uncontrollably. After composing himself slightly, he continued, "Today the court issued an edict to strip Prince Zhuang of his authority, confining him to his residence pending trial. Jilantai has also confessed. The case will likely conclude tomorrow. The subsequent matters won't be handled by me—they'll be entrusted to Prince Rui and the Court of Judicial Review. I've asked Hongxun to ensure the Wen family's name is cleared..."
"What's the use?" Her eyes brimmed with tears, her gaze piercing through the watery veil, sharp enough to rend hearts. "Will clearing their names bring my parents and brothers back? Never mind the past—just look at what's before us now. After all these twists and turns, he still died at the hands of your Yuwen clan. You promised to keep him safe—did you? You told me not to worry, yet my third brother is dead. You failed to keep your word. Kneeling here all day, I've thought a lot. If we hadn't returned to the capital, he would still be alive and well. It was my greed, my selfishness that dragged him into this inferno. I can never forgive myself for this. And you—why did I ever have to meet you?" She shook her head slowly. "I regret it. I regret it so much I don't know what to do. I shouldn't have dreamed of being with you. I should have left the Central Plains with Rujian, followed his advice, married someone decent, and started anew. But I..." Overcome by self-loathing, she couldn't continue and slapped herself hard across the face.
Horrified, he grabbed her wrist. "Don't do this—"
She pushed him away, her shoulders slumped as she looked at him. "Back then, I thought of you every day, hoping you'd find me, even foolishly dreaming of becoming your Princess Consort. Looking back now, what have I done? My selfishness killed my third brother—a mistake I can never atone for in this lifetime. I've failed him, and I've failed Hailan too. Did you see how she looked today? Do you know the agony of having all your hopes turn to nothing?" She gave a bitter laugh. "You're a Prince—how could you understand? To you, common folk are just ants. What does it matter if they die?"Her words truly wounded him deeply. For a long time, he had been striving tirelessly. Had he not met her, he wouldn't have paid attention to Wen Lu's case or exhausted all means to seek justice for the Wen family. Unfortunately, they were one step too late—Rujian had died, slipping through their fingers. He too felt sorrow and heartache, but why must she resent him so bitterly?
He couldn't bring himself to argue with her. Perhaps she needed someone to hate to ease the pain in her heart. Looking at Rujian's face, he nodded. "It's my fault. I was incompetent. I failed Third Brother. The prison had already heightened security, with patrols at night. I can't fathom how anyone could have entered to commit murder. Fortunately, we've already captured Hongzan. The truth will come to light, and justice will be served in the end."
She glared at him, grinding her teeth. "I don't care about the truth. I want to avenge my family. I want to kill the murderer with my own hands!"
He stared at her in shock. "What do you mean?"
She stood tall and unyielding, her back straight. "I've spent six years under my master's tutelage, wielding blades. By all accounts, it's time for my Mountain Opening. Prince Zhuang has so many lives on his hands—shouldn't he be dragged to the Meridian Gate for execution?"
Was she planning to return to her old profession? That was impossible! He didn't know how to dissuade her. Consumed by rage, she wouldn't listen to reason now. He could only patiently explain, "Great Britain deals with the Imperial Clan by granting them the dignity of taking their own lives—it's a matter of royal face. They would never execute them publicly. I know you're filled with hatred. If you need to vent, you can curse me or hit me, but don't take it out on yourself."
Dingyi was trapped in her own stubbornness. She knew she was being unreasonable, but where else could she direct this overwhelming resentment? He was always so composed—how could he remain so calm? Her eyes fixed on him blankly. "Do you know what I'm thinking right now? I'm wondering—if I died, would you immediately kill Prince Zhuang?"
His heart lurched, and he felt dizzy with frustration. "Must you be so reckless? If you want revenge, I'll find a way to help you. Why say such things? You're not the only one grieving Rujian's death. I always hoped you and your brother would be well—once the case was resolved, we could reclaim the Wen Family Compound, Rujian could restore the family's fortunes, and you'd have a home to return to... But now it's all over. With Rujian gone, it's like a house we built has half-collapsed. My heart is riddled with wounds too. I know he lies here at home, while I force myself to deal with ministers and the Emperor outside. To speak from the heart—I don’t want to be involved anymore. I want to wash my hands of it all. But can I?"
Their voices had risen, and arguing in the mourning hall was inappropriate. Guan Zhaojing and Sha Tong hurried forward to mediate. "What's done is done. Please, both of you, restrain your grief. Don't disturb the departed in his presence. Princess Consort, think of Miss Suo—your heart aches, but so does hers. You must comfort her. If you lose yourself in grief, what will become of Miss Suo?"
Her anger cooled at their words. In a frosty tone, she said, "Take your master back. Don't let him come here again. The money my Third Brother left is enough for me to live comfortably for the rest of my life..." Tears choked her voice as endless sorrow welled up. She turned away, collapsing against the bier, and burst into uncontrollable sobs.Was she trying to draw a clear line between them? She was utterly disappointed in him and unwilling to forgive him again.
"Dingyi, give me one more chance..." He staggered forward, half-kneeling as he shook her. "I'll fulfill any wish of yours, I beg you not to hate me."
She steeled her heart, yet she was still alive and could still feel the pain. As he called out her name desperately, she clutched the burial shroud tightly, wanting to drive him away. But the moment she opened her mouth, a spasm seized her heart, leaving her feeling hollowed out before she collapsed by the bedside.
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