On the thirteenth day of the seventh month, the imperial decree was issued.
Ji Minzhong was found guilty of embezzling military funds, illegally trading salt and iron, colluding with border generals, and seizing private estates. The crimes were punished cumulatively. He was immediately stripped of office and arrested for questioning, to be jointly tried by the Ministry of Justice, the Censorate, and the Court of Judicial Review.
The Imperial Guards rode westward that same day, sealing Ji Residence, Qingfeng Academy’s private estate, the warehouses at Tongzhou Wharf, and Deyuan Pawnshop in the northern city.
Ye Xian stood beneath the corridor of the Censorate, watching the mounted guards gallop down Chang’an Street.
Horseshoes struck sparks from the bluestone pavement, only for them to vanish in an instant.
In his hand was the official approval for the joint trial by the Three Judicial Offices. The vermilion seal stamped at the bottom was still fresh, the ink not yet fully dry.
Xu Jingting walked up behind him. For once, his usual playful expression was nowhere to be seen.
“Ji Residence has already begun to be searched. The Ministry of Revenue is inventorying the estates, and the Ministry of War is sealing the old records from the military provisions case. Zhao Heng submitted a memorial of self-accusation to the palace this morning. His Majesty kept it without comment and ordered him to appear in person.”
Ye Xian responded with a simple hum and folded the document into his sleeve.
His movements were calm and unhurried, as though he were handling nothing more than ordinary official business.
Yet Xu Jingting noticed that Ye Xian kept rubbing the dark embroidery at his cuff until the threads had begun to fray.
“Do you want to go to Ji Residence yourself?”
“No.” Ye Xian gazed toward the fading dust at the far end of Chang’an Street and spoke evenly. “What he owed my father cannot be repaid by confiscating his property.”
“But rules are rules. After the joint trial, there will naturally be a verdict. Whether I go or not changes nothing.”
Yet while he spoke, his fingers were pressed firmly against the white jade pendant at his waist, so hard that his knuckles turned pale.
Xu Jingting saw it but said nothing.
He knew Ye Xian had waited four years for this day. From the moment the Late Marquis died in office until now, every step had been like groping through darkness. Now that dawn had finally arrived, Ye Xian had become even quieter than usual.
Not because he did not care.
But because he had held his breath for too long, and suddenly did not know how to let it out.
“As for Miss Gu…” Xu Jingting paused. “Today’s confiscation is causing quite a stir. The news has probably reached Gu Family Residence already.”
Ye Xian’s fingers left the jade pendant and moved to smooth his sleeve once more.
“Have someone deliver a message to Gu Family Residence. Tell them the case is concluded. They don’t need to worry about anyone submitting slanderous accusations against the Imperial Stud Office anymore. Nothing else needs to be said.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
Xu Jingting looked at him, shook his head, and turned to make arrangements.
After walking several steps, he glanced back.
As expected, Ye Xian had already pushed open the window of the Censorate office that faced the rear gate of the Ministry of Personnel.
The alley below was deserted.
Ji Minzhong’s office had already been sealed, and not a soul approached it. Ye Xian stood by the window for a long time—so long that the cicadas in the old locust trees outside cried through another round of their chorus.
Then he closed the window, returned to his desk, and took out the private records left behind by the Late Marquis from the black lacquered wooden box.
He opened to the final page.
There, the number of the last shipment of military provisions approved by Ji Minzhong was recorded. The ink had long faded into a grayish brown.
He carefully folded the page and slipped it into his sleeve before locking the records back inside the box.
“Father, it’s finally over.”
The cicadas outside fell silent, as though listening.
But no one answered.
Three days later, the results of the joint trial were announced.
Ji Minzhong confessed to every charge.
In truth, he had no choice.
The evidence Ye Xian had submitted was too comprehensive and too precise. From the old records of the provisions case to the estate verification documents, from Wu An’s testimony to Zhao Heng’s written confession, every piece fit together seamlessly, leaving Ji Minzhong no room to retract his statements.
The only surprising part was a final sentence he added to his confession:
“The diversion of military provisions was entirely my doing and had nothing to do with anyone else.”
The “anyone else” included not only his protégés and associates still serving in court, but also Northern Pacifying Marquis Zhao Heng.
Yet Zhao Heng had already submitted a memorial admitting guilt. Ji Minzhong’s declaration seemed almost unnecessary.
When Gu Jinzhao heard the news at home, she was watering a newly transplanted begonia tree in the courtyard.
“He’s taking everything on himself.”
She set down the water ladle and spoke to Qing Pu. Her tone was so calm that it hardly sounded as though she were discussing a man facing execution.
“He’s already cornered with no way out, yet he still wants to protect the last remnants of his network. He knows that as long as people still owe him favors, the Ji family won’t be uprooted completely. He’s using his final breath to pave a road for them.”
Qing Pu brought over some tea.
“Heir Apparent Ye must have seen through that.”
“Of course he did.” Gu Jinzhao took a sip of tea. “That’s why he won’t let Ji Minzhong have his way.”
On the nineteenth day of the seventh month, the imperial judgment was delivered.
Ji Minzhong was guilty of embezzling military funds, colluding with border generals, and seizing private estates. His crimes warranted execution.
In consideration of his previous merits in overseeing grain transport, death by slow slicing was waived. Instead, he was granted the right to take his own life.
Ji Residence was confiscated, and all family assets were seized by the state.
The adult men of the Ji family were exiled three thousand li away. The women of the household were entered into government servitude.
Zhao Heng was found guilty of concealing evidence and sheltering accomplices. His noble rank was reduced by one grade, his salary suspended for three years, and he was stripped of active duties while remaining in the capital to reflect upon his actions.
Zhao Jin was stripped of his title for concealing knowledge of the crimes. The position of heir was transferred to Zhao Yu, Zhao Heng’s son by a concubine.
On the day the decree arrived, Gu Jinzhao was standing inside the study of Changxing Marquis Residence.
Ye Xian had invited her there.
The invitation contained only four words:
The case is concluded.
When she stepped across the threshold, she saw Ye Xian standing before the window with his back toward the entrance.
Outside, the slender bamboo in the pot rustled softly in the wind. Its leaves remained lush and green.
“Heir Apparent.”
She offered a greeting.
Ye Xian did not turn immediately, but his shoulders moved slightly, as though her voice had drawn him back from his thoughts.
When he faced her, the Late Marquis’s private records lay open upon the desk.
Beside them sat a celadon wine cup filled to the brim.
The wine was untouched.
“Sit.”
He gestured toward the chair opposite him.
After sitting down, Gu Jinzhao picked up the old pouch lying on the desk.
The crookedly embroidered bamboo had faded even more, yet the childish stitches on the back remained intact, every line still visible.
“You had this pouch repaired?”
“Mm.”
Ye Xian’s gaze shifted from her face to the potted bamboo outside.
“I had a seamstress replace the lining. The embroidery on the outside stayed exactly the same.”
“Why didn’t you have her redo the embroidery too?”
Ye Xian lifted the wine cup and took a small sip.
His fingers lingered along the rim for a long while before he replied.
“You embroidered that when you were little. Not even a single thread could be changed.”
Instinctively, Gu Jinzhao’s fingers touched the begonia-patterned jade bracelet on her wrist.
The white jade felt faintly warm in the afternoon light.
She lowered her eyes.
“Ji Minzhong left on his final journey today.”
“Mm.”
Ye Xian lightly tapped the rim of the cup.
His voice remained steady and calm.
“He asked for a pot of pre-Qingming Longjing tea before he died. The jailer asked whether he had any last words. He said victory and defeat belonged to fate. There was nothing left to say. Though he did remark that the Ye family’s boy was even harder to deal with than his father.”
“At least he spoke the truth before he died.”
Her voice was soft, but every word was clear.
Ye Xian suddenly laughed.
It was not his usual indifferent chuckle.
Nor was it the helpless laugh that escaped when she amused him.
It was something lighter.
A quiet exhale after finally laying down a burden.
He set down the wine cup and picked up the old pouch.
Turning it over, he slowly traced the crooked embroidered character on the back with his thumb.
A sudden gust of wind swept through the window.
The bamboo leaves rustled softly.
Sunlight filtered through them, scattering broken patches of light across the desk and overlapping with the faded writing in the Late Marquis’s records.
Gu Jinzhao rose to her feet and walked to the window.
She moved the potted bamboo half an inch farther inside.
Afterward, she did not step away. Instead, she leaned lightly against the desk and looked down at the untouched cup of wine before him.
The wine’s surface was smooth as a mirror, reflecting her image.
“Heir Apparent.”
She looked at him quietly.
“You asked me to come today because when you sat here alone, after finally winning, you didn’t know who you wanted to talk to about it. Isn’t that right?”
Ye Xian said nothing.
Lowering his head, he slowly traced a circle around the rim of the cup with one finger.
Then he set the old pouch back on the table and pushed it toward her.
The movement was neither heavy nor light.
It felt as though he were returning something long owed.
Or perhaps handing over a key.
“When we lived in the old residence in West City, you used to call me Brother A-Xian.”
He lifted his eyes to meet hers.
Gone was the lazy indifference that usually veiled his phoenix eyes.
Gone was the stillness of a windless lake.
The walls he had built in court and the hardened shell forged through years of investigation seemed to peel away silently at the edges.
The heat on the back of her hand made her heart tighten.
For beneath it she saw what he had hidden all these years:
Fatigue.
Vulnerability.
And a trust he had never dared show anyone.
“I want to hear it.”
His voice was very soft.
So soft that even the flicker of a candle sounded louder.
But he did not look away.
Gu Jinzhao reached out and picked up the pouch again, holding it gently in her palm.
The fabric had softened with age.
The old embroidery brushed against her fingertips.
She raised her head.
Their eyes met.
“A-Xian.”
Not Brother A-Xian.
Just A-Xian.
Two words fewer.
Yet those missing words erased the ten years between them, the bamboo grove, the rainstorm, and the old case all at once.
Outside the window, afternoon sunlight streamed through the bamboo leaves, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow across the desk.
On the twentieth day of the seventh month, Ji Minzhong’s coffin was collected from the rear gate of the Ministry of Justice by the few elderly servants remaining to the Ji family.
It was quietly transported out of the capital.
No one came to see him off.
No one wept in mourning.
The Vice Minister who had spent more than a decade cultivating influence at court and once held tremendous power over official appointments ultimately did not even have anyone willing to prepare a proper coffin for him.
On that same day, Zhao Yu, the new heir of Northern Pacifying Marquis Manor, submitted a second memorial pleading for punishment.
The Emperor retained it without comment but sent an oral decree through a palace eunuch:
Zhao Heng had failed in the upbringing of his son and was ordered into seclusion for six months.
Zhao Jin was moved out of the main residence and relocated to an estate in the northern district of the city.
Zhao Yu was instructed to conduct himself properly and fulfill his responsibilities.
Zhou Yun did not accompany them.
According to the servants of Northern Pacifying Marquis Manor, the young lady voluntarily requested permission to return to her own family.
When she left, she brought only a tabby cat and a few sets of old clothing.
At the time of her departure, the pomegranate blossoms in Northern Pacifying Marquis Manor were blooming for the final time that season.
Their petals covered the ground.
As the carriage rolled away, the wheels crushed them into the earth.