The carriage stopped one street away from the Dali Temple prison.
The air was thick with a damp, moldy smell mixed with the faint scent of blood. It seeped into the nose and made one’s chest feel tight.
Shen Qingzhu jumped down from the carriage shaft and looked up.
“Young Master,” Shen Zhong’s voice sounded behind her, “we’ve arrived.”
He took out a small cloth bundle from his robe, then scraped up a handful of black mud mixed with bits of grass from beneath the wheel. Walking up to Shen Qingzhu, he lowered his voice.
“Young Master, please bear with it. Your appearance… is too eye-catching. This place is full of all sorts of people. It’s better to avoid trouble. Use this—smear it on your face and hands to cover yourself up.”
Shen Qingzhu looked at the filthy lump in Shen Zhong’s palm and did not hesitate for even a moment.
She knew that the original owner of this body had inherited the good looks of her mother, Madam Lin—delicate brows, bright eyes, red lips, and white teeth. Even dressed as a man, the refinement could not be hidden. In a filthy place like this, good looks were not a pass; they were a death sentence.
She reached out, grabbed the mud directly, mixed it with the plant ash from the cloth bundle, and without even glancing at it, smeared it across her face.
Her movements were swift and decisive, without the slightest trace of delicacy.
The cold, rough sand scraped against her skin, bringing a faint stinging sensation. She didn’t care.
She even bent down and rubbed the clean hem of her robe against the ground several times. The originally plain green robe was immediately stained with mottled dirt.
Watching her actions, Shen Zhong’s eyes reddened, and he nearly burst into tears.
He had served this young master for fifteen years. When had he ever seen him suffer such humiliation?
But at this moment, looking at the dirt-covered yet unusually bright-eyed “young master” before him, a complex emotion of heartache and relief surged through him.
The young master… had truly grown up.
“Uncle Zhong, let’s go,” Shen Qingzhu said calmly, dusting off her hands.
Shen Zhong quickly nodded. He took out a heavy money pouch from his robe and tucked it into his sleeve, leaving only a few pieces of silver in his hand, then led Shen Qingzhu toward the cold gates of the prison.
“Stop! What are you doing!”
The two jailers at the gate immediately straightened up when they saw someone approaching. They slammed their water-and-fire staffs onto the ground with a loud thud, their faces fierce and menacing.
Shen Zhong hurried forward with a deep bow, a humble smile plastered across his face as he quietly slipped the broken silver into their hands.
“Honored officers, please grant us a small favor. We’re from the Shen… Shen family. We’ve come under orders to collect our master’s body.”
The jailer weighed the silver in his hand. The ferocity on his face softened a little. He glanced sideways at Shen Qingzhu. Seeing that she looked thin and filthy, the vigilance in his eyes disappeared, replaced only with contempt.
“The Shen family? You mean the Imperial Physician Shen who followed Prince An in rebellion?”
Another jailer sneered.
“He’s already dead. Why bother collecting the body? Might as well toss it into the mass grave and feed the dogs.”
Shen Zhong’s face instantly turned pale. His body trembled with anger, but he could only endure it silently.
Shen Qingzhu stepped forward, blocking Shen Zhong.
Facing the jailer, she spoke neither humbly nor arrogantly.
“Sir is joking. According to the laws of the court, punishment does not extend to the corpse. We are here to retrieve the body in accordance with the rules.”
The jailer was momentarily stunned by her gaze and subconsciously avoided eye contact.
“Hmph. At least you know the rules.” The jailer who had taken the money cleared his throat. “Come with me. The fee to claim the corpse is one thousand taels. One coin less, and you can lie down in there with him.”
One thousand taels.
This wasn’t extortion anymore—it was outright robbery.
Shen Zhong’s heart bled with pain, but he gritted his teeth and handed over the heavy money pouch.
The jailer weighed it, finally revealing a satisfied smile. He led the two through a gloomy corridor where the moldy and bloody smell grew even stronger.
At the end of the corridor was a room for storing corpses.
More than a dozen bodies lay scattered on the ground, each covered with white cloth. Several cheap candles flickered in the room, casting dim light and eerie shadows.
“There. That one,” the jailer said impatiently, pointing to a body in the corner.
Shen Zhong staggered forward and ripped off the white cloth.
It was indeed Shen Jiru.
His eyes were closed, and his expression was fairly peaceful, though his lips were purple.
“Master…” Shen Zhong burst into tears, collapsing to his knees. With trembling hands, he opened Shen Jiru’s robe.
There were no wounds on the body, no bloodstains, and no signs of torture.
After carefully examining him, Shen Zhong choked as he told Shen Qingzhu, “Young Master… Master… died of illness. He… he didn’t suffer.”
In such overwhelming misfortune, this was the only small comfort.
Shen Qingzhu quietly looked at the unfamiliar face that belonged to her “father.”
The original owner’s memories surged like a tide—scenes of a strict yet caring father. Her chest felt tight, and her eyes grew slightly moist.
She took a deep breath and suppressed the emotions that did not belong to her.
“Uncle Zhong, let’s take Father home.”
The two used a straw mat to laboriously carry Shen Jiru’s body out.
As they left, Shen Qingzhu caught a glimpse of several Imperial Guards gathered around a table, pouring out gold and jewelry confiscated from officials’ homes. They laughed lewdly as they divided the spoils.
Shen Qingzhu withdrew her gaze. Her eyes were as cold as ice.
After placing Shen Jiru’s body onto the carriage, Shen Zhong wiped his tears and said hoarsely, “Young Master, let’s go home.”
“Mm.”
The carriage slowly started moving toward home.
Shen Qingzhu sat on the carriage shaft. The cold wind scattered her hair and blew away the last trace of confusion in her heart.
She had to live.
Carrying the responsibilities of this body… carrying this family of old people, women, and children… she would carve a bloody path through this devouring world.
The carriage stopped at the back gate of the Shen residence. But before they could move the body down, a figure came stumbling from the alley, crying.
“Young Master! Young Master! You’re finally back!”
It was Lingyu, the personal maid of the eldest young lady, Shen Qingyao.
She rushed to the carriage, tears streaming down her face, barely able to speak.
“Young Master… hurry… hurry and save our young lady!”
Shen Qingzhu’s heart skipped, and an ominous feeling rose.
“What happened to my elder sister?”
Lingyu sobbed uncontrollably.
“The news about our family spread… The Qian family… the Qian family says they want to… to divorce our young lady!”
Shen Zhong cried out in shock.
“What?! The eldest young lady is already eight months pregnant! How could they dare?!”
“They dare!” Lingyu’s voice turned shrill with despair. “Not only do they want to divorce her, they also want to… want to force medicine on her… to abort the child in her womb!”
Boom!
Shen Qingzhu’s mind exploded.
A monstrous fury surged from her chest straight to the top of her head.
Even a tiger does not eat its own cubs!
The Qian family beasts not only wanted to kick someone when they were down—they wanted to kill.
And the one they wanted to kill was their own unborn blood!
“Where are they?” Shen Qingzhu’s voice was cold enough to freeze the air.
“The old madam of the Qian family invited a midwife. They’re already… already preparing! The young lady resisted with all her strength, so they tied her up! Young Master, please—if you’re late, both the young lady and the child will die!”
“Uncle Zhong!” Shen Qingzhu shouted sharply.
“This old servant is here!”
“Gather all the guards in the residence who can fight. Come with me!”
“Yes!”
Shen Qingzhu leapt off the carriage and turned to the guards at the back gate.
“Watch Father’s body. Wait until I return!”
Then she grabbed Lingyu. “Lead the way!”
Filled with grief and fury, the group ran toward the Qian residence.
On the way, Shen Qingzhu pulled Shen Zhong close and quickly whispered a few instructions only the two of them could hear.
Shen Zhong’s expression changed several times. In the end, he nodded heavily, a trace of determination flashing in his eyes. He quietly slipped away from the group and ran in another direction.
At the gates of the Qian residence.
When Shen Qingzhu arrived with more than a dozen guards, the doors were tightly shut.
“Open the door!” one Shen family guard shouted, pounding on it.
After a long while, the gate opened slightly. A middle-aged man who looked like a steward poked his head out, sleepy and impatient.
But when he saw that it was Shen Qingzhu, the impatience on his face instantly turned into undisguised contempt and mockery.
“Oh? If it isn’t the young master of the Shen family.”
The steward dragged out his tone sarcastically, looking Shen Qingzhu up and down at her filthy appearance.
“What’s the matter? Your family’s about to be confiscated, and you still have time to run to our residence? Are you here to beg for food… or to collect the corpse of your shameless sister?”