At an inn a hundred li outside the city, unexpectedly, Zong Huo and his entourage lingered for three whole days and nights.
Every so often, someone would cautiously step outside to survey the surroundings, clearly worried that staying too long might invite trouble. But Zong Huo, newly freed from the hell he had escaped, had no such concerns—he indulged himself recklessly in wine and women.
The Pei family’s covert guards lay silently in ambush nearby.
After three days, the caravan finally persuaded Zong Huo to leave. When he departed, he was thoroughly satisfied, his face wearing the half-dazed look of drunkenness.
The Pei family’s guards immediately entered the inn to investigate, only to discover that the innkeeper’s daughter had hanged herself silently in her room.
Upon examining the body, two guards exchanged glances: “She was strangled.”
When they lifted her clothing, they found her body disordered and violated—clearly subjected to brutal abuse.
This inn was isolated, with no one else around. Zong Huo, lustful by nature, had only the innkeeper’s daughter to satisfy his desires. Tragically, she became his victim.
One guard clenched his fist: “Send word to the young master immediately.”
Zong Huo, having escaped death by substitution, was already committing crimes along the road—his sins beyond measure.
The Zong father and son, intent on covering their crimes, had long ceased to value human life.
After Jing Wan’er’s escape from the palace, an informant inside relayed the news to Zong Chuke: “Palace Madam Cui failed to kill the corpse-collecting maid.”
Zong Chuke crushed the cup in his hand: “What did you say?”
To keep the substitution secret, silencing all witnesses was paramount. Yet Palace Madam Cui had failed even in this.
The messenger recounted everything that had happened in the palace the previous night—including suspicions that Prince Changle had taken the girl away.
Zong Chuke’s expression grew darker: “And if it was not Prince Changle?”
If not the prince, then it was Pei Tan.
It was Pei Tan, that cursed son of the Pei family, who had first insisted on condemning his son to death.
“Pei Tan entered the palace last night by imperial command. Eunuch Cai, who serves His Majesty, confirmed it. He should not have been the one to take the maid.” Moreover, Pei Tan had no motive to take Jing Wan’er.
In truth, the palace was heavily guarded. To spirit someone away silently required immense power. Prince Changle remained the most likely.
But since this concerned his son, Zong Chuke could not relax his vigilance. He looked at the messenger, his voice cold and chilling: “If Pei Tan has discovered any clue…”
The man shuddered. He thought of Pei Tan—like a plague god. When first meeting the seemingly gentle second son of the Pei family, none had imagined he was so ruthless, so devoid of regard for clan ties.
“If Pei Tan had discovered anything, he would have exposed it at once and reported to His Majesty. He would never remain silent as he does now…” the man ventured cautiously.
Indeed, Pei Tan had once defied all obstacles to petition Emperor Zhongzong to execute Zong Huo. If he now knew Zong Huo lived, would he not be even more determined to expose it?
Zong Chuke’s eyes flashed with cold light. He remained silent for a long moment.
Because no one dared risk offending Prince Changle, Palace Madam Cui was warned never to mention the matter again.
Palace Madam Cui gnashed her teeth in fury. She had not expected her carefully laid plan to end in such bitter failure.
“Bring Qiao’er to me!” she ordered viciously.
Qiao’er was brought in, bewildered, sensing danger instinctively. When she saw Palace Madam Cui’s grim face, her heart sank.
Palace Madam Cui stared coldly at the terrified maid: “That day I ordered you to accompany Jing Wan’er in collecting the corpse. Did you obey me, following her every step without leaving her side?”
Qiao’er trembled violently: “Y-yes…”
Palace Madam Cui’s eyes were dark and fathomless. She had made Qiao’er follow precisely to guard against mishap. If Jing Wan’er had found nothing unusual on the corpse, all would have been well.
“Then tell me exactly what Jing Wan’er did that day.”
Qiao’er’s eyes went blank. A chill of doom rose from her feet. That day, she had forgotten her palace token and had been left waiting at the gate while Jing Wan’er went alone. She had not seen how Jing Wan’er handled the corpse.
“I saw… she used kerosene and burned the body…”
From the gate, she had seen the flames and white smoke filling the air.
Palace Madam Cui’s eyes pressed sharply: “Where did you drag the corpse to burn it? How exactly did she do it?”
The burial ground within the palace covered many acres. The false corpse of Zong Huo—where had it been destroyed? Even ashes would be evidence.
Qiao’er’s face drained of blood. She stared blankly at Palace Madam Cui, unable to speak.
Palace Madam Cui’s voice grew more dangerous: “Why are you silent? Didn’t you see her dispose of the corpse with your own eyes?”
Palace Madam Cui’s cruelty had long instilled fear in the servants’ quarters. No maid could withstand her presence for even a moment. Qiao’er, cowardly by nature, finally broke under Palace Madam Cui’s deliberate pressure and probing.
“Your servant… your servant admits her fault! Please spare me…”
Palace Madam Cui stared coldly at her for a long while: “Why should I spare you?”
Qiao’er sobbed brokenly: “Your servant did not follow Jing Wan’er out of the palace to collect the corpse. I only saw the flames when she burned it at the gate. I did not mean to deceive you. I swear it will never happen again!”
Palace Madam Cui’s hand clenched tightly. So—Jing Wan’er had escaped under her nose, and now Qiao’er too had disobeyed. That meant no one knew how Jing Wan’er had truly handled the corpse that day.
If Minister Zong learned of this, Palace Madam Cui’s own life would not be safe.
“Guards! Drag Qiao’er out and flog her to death!”
Qiao’er’s face turned ashen: “Madam, spare me…”
The palace women around Palace Madam Cui were merciless. Two tall attendants stepped forward, seized Qiao’er’s arms, and dragged her toward the door.
Qiao’er finally realized her fate and screamed: “Madam!”
Palace Madam Cui wished her dead at once. If Qiao’er cried out further and word reached Zong Chuke, Palace Madam Cui’s years of scheming to rise to her position would be undone. She herself would be reduced to the same worthless fate as the maids. She could not allow it.
“Gag her! Not a sound until she dies!”
Qiao’er’s terror was choked off. Her eyes bulged wide, unable to comprehend how her life had ended in an instant.
Palace Madam Cui executed Qiao’er, yet her heart remained unsettled. She hoped Jing Wan’er truly had been taken by Prince Changle, becoming his plaything. If she never left his residence, that would at least be an explanation.
That night, Palace Madam Cui—demon by day, obsequious servant by night—bowed before a eunuch: “Please assure, all has been handled.”
The eunuch rasped coldly: “The Minister asks why the maid escaped early. Did you leak the news?”
A flash of malice crossed Palace Madam Cui’s eyes, but her face remained humble: “Of course not. Jing Wan’er has never forgotten that she was once a noble daughter of Chang’an. She was unwilling to remain a slave. Seeing Prince Changle enter the palace, she must have dreamed of becoming a phoenix, clinging to that great tree.”
The eunuch’s voice was icy: “Can you be certain Jing Wan’er left with Prince Changle?”
Palace Madam Cui bent low: “She is a lowly maid, fit only to be slaughtered. Without the Prince’s protection, even if she had wings, how could she fly out of the Daming Palace?”
The eunuch’s eyes flickered, uncertain whether to believe.
Palace Madam Cui’s gaze shifted. From her sleeve, she produced a letter: “This is testimony from the guards at Danfeng Gate. That night, Prince Changle drove his carriage into the palace alone. When he departed, they all heard a woman’s laughter inside the carriage.”
This was ironclad proof: Prince Changle, Li Xiuqi, had indeed taken a palace woman.
Seeing the testimony, the eunuch’s expression eased. “For safety’s sake, if the Minister learns Jing Wan’er was taken by someone else, not only you but even I will die with you.”
Palace Madam Cui bowed deeply: “Your servant understands.”
Only after the eunuch left did Palace Madam Cui unclench her hand. Her face was cold. The testimony was forged. That night, Prince Changle had left drunk, and no one had seen a woman in his carriage. But such truths would never be spoken aloud.
Because Pei Tan understood human nature, everyone would eventually, for their own interests, insist that “Jing Wan’er was taken by Prince Changle.” Even Zong Chuke could find no flaw.
Meanwhile, Pei Tan did nothing outwardly. He only had Registrar Xing bring him the old case files of the Court of Judicial Review, one by one, which he leafed through as if aimlessly.
“My lord, these are all dead cases, some long past their time. Why bother?”
Registrar Xing, buried in dusty files for days, grew increasingly baffled by Pei Tan’s intent.
“It’s nothing. I only wish to see if any of these cases still hold use.”
Pei Tan spoke, then, after a pause, pointed to one file: “In this case, several of those involved are still in Chang’an, are they not? Tomorrow, have the officers bring them here. I have questions to ask.”
Registrar Xing leaned forward to glance at the file—it was yet another case nearing expiration. He truly could not fathom what Pei Tan intended, but could only reply: “Yes, my lord. I will see to it tomorrow.”
Since it was already late, after re-filing the dossiers Pei Tan had reviewed, Registrar Xing left the Court
At the gate, a carriage awaited. When Registrar Xing saw it, his expression shifted slightly, but he boarded as though nothing were unusual.
The carriage departed, but instead of heading toward Xing’s residence, it deliberately circled several times. As darkness fell, using the cover of night, it stopped at the Ministry of State Affairs’ rear gate.