Duke Zheng watched the scene unfold. The Emperor had already issued punishment—and it was to such a cold, damp place.
Cui Weijin’s judgment had been clearly stated. If he continued to press the matter, it would instead make the Zheng Family appear unreasonable, refusing to yield even when justified, and showing no regard for either the imperial family or the Cui Family.
He gave Cui Weijin a perfunctory salute. “Since Lord Cui has already made a decision, and His Majesty has issued a decree, this old minister has nothing more to say. I take my leave!”
With that, he flicked his sleeve and turned to leave.
“Father!” Zheng Yingying panicked. Seeing Duke Zheng walk away without even looking back, she lifted her tattered skirt and hurried after him in a sorry state.
Cui Weijin led Cui Xueqin away as well.
The Wang Family patriarch and the Xie Family father and son followed suit, offering their farewells to Emperor Ming Chong.
Very soon, the courtyard was left with only Emperor Ming Chong, Princess Ming Zhao, Cuiguo, and a few silent eunuchs.
The night wind grew colder.
…
Reflection Hall lived up to its reputation.
Dust and the smell of mildew hit them at once. There was a chipped table, two uneven chairs, and in the corner, a bare wooden bed with no bedding at all.
Several holes punctured the window paper, letting cold wind pour in. It was clearly a long-abandoned, desolate place.
Cuiguo opened the small bundle she had been carrying. Inside was a cotton blanket.
She shook it out and spread it over the slightly better chair.
“Princess, please sit. It’s very cold here.”
Her voice was full of guilt.
“It’s all my fault. I was useless!”
“If I had rushed forward to stop them, or shouted louder to alert others sooner, you wouldn’t have been bullied by them.”
“And you wouldn’t have been punished to come to a place like this. How can anyone live here? And you have to kneel for three days—how can your body endure it?”
Princess Ming Zhao walked over and sat on the chair covered with the blanket.
“It’s not your fault.” She glanced at the broken roof and drafty windows. “I was careless.”
“I thought even if they wanted to act, they would at least consider the occasion. I didn’t expect Zheng Yingying to be so foolish as to block me on the night of a palace banquet.”
“But… this is good too. At least now I can see the situation clearly.”
Cuiguo wiped her tears with her sleeve, looking at her in confusion. “Princess, what situation? This servant is too foolish to understand.”
“I did fight back today, but I also deliberately made things bigger.”
Cuiguo looked completely baffled.
“I wanted to see how Cui Weijin would react.”
Cuiguo’s eyes widened. “Lord Cui?”
“Mm.” Princess Ming Zhao nodded. “If he had come and fully believed Zheng Yingying and Cui Xueqin, assuming I was the one causing trouble and even questioning me on their behalf, then it would mean that in his eyes, the imperial family holds no weight, and the Zheng Family are the ones he protects.”
“In that case, our path ahead would be extremely difficult.”
“But… but Lord Cui didn’t really help you either, did he? He punished you too.” Cuiguo was still confused.
“That is exactly the key point.”
Princess Ming Zhao explained, “He did not follow their narrative to confirm my guilt. Instead, he clearly pointed out Zheng Yingying’s crude words and her intent to attack, and punished her with confinement.”
“That shows that at least in this matter, he did not favor the Zheng Family. His treatment of me and Zheng Yingying was the same.”
“As for Imperial Father punishing me to kneel here—it was done for the Zheng Family to see.”
“What Cui Weijin gave us was already a relatively favorable bottom line.”
Cuiguo seemed to half-understand. “So… Lord Cui is on our side?”
“It’s too early to say he’s on our side.”
Princess Ming Zhao shook her head, her gaze deep.
“But at least he is not standing against us—and that is enough.”
“As long as he is not an ally of the Zheng Family, we still have a chance. Today’s punishment was not entirely a loss.”
Cuiguo still felt uneasy, recalling the earlier scene. “But Princess, how were you so sure that the one who would come out upon hearing the commotion would be Lord Cui?”
“What if it had been someone else? Or if no one came at all?”
A faint smile curved Princess Ming Zhao’s lips as she recalled that bold wink in Linde Hall.
“I have my ways. He had been drinking, and the hall was stuffy—he would naturally come out for some air. As for others…”
Her tone turned slightly mocking.
“Among all those nobles in the hall, who would truly take me seriously?”
“A ‘mad Princess’ who has been away from Ye City for thirteen years is nothing more than a topic of idle gossip to them. Even if someone saw something, most would ignore it. No one would risk offending the Zheng Family for my sake.”
“That’s far too risky!” Cuiguo said anxiously. “Your reputation was already… and after this, it will be even worse!”
【Risky?】
She repeated the word in her mind.
“Cuiguo, you don’t understand.”
Cuiguo continued tidying the cold, messy hall. “This servant doesn’t need to understand. As long as I follow Princess, that’s enough.”
Princess Ming Zhao leaned back against the cold chair and looked out into the pitch-black night. There wasn’t even a single star.
【From the moment I decided to return to Ye City, every step I’ve taken has been along the edge of a bottomless cliff.】
【If I don’t gamble—if I don’t throw myself into it—then what awaits us is only the bloody fate from my previous life, where our family is destroyed. Compared to that, what is this little humiliation and cold?】
She pulled her thin bright-yellow robe tighter around herself. The vivid color stood out starkly in the lifeless hall—yet it also carried a stubborn resilience.
The road ahead was long.
This was only the beginning.
…
“Smack!”
Cui Xueqin lay face-down on a narrow, hard bench. Her left hand was pinned to the edge by an old servant, palm facing up, already swollen and red.
Cold sweat covered her forehead. Her carefully styled hair had come undone.
“Cousin Brother, Cousin Brother, I know I was wrong!”
“I’ll never speak carelessly again! Please make them stop—please! It hurts, it really hurts!”
The steward holding the rod remained expressionless, glancing toward the main seat for instruction.
Cui Weijin did not turn around. He held a scroll in his hand. The pages were yellowed, and faintly visible on the cover were the ancient characters: Collected Records of Unusual Arts and Techniques.
He was reading intently.
“Cousin Brother, I truly know I was wrong! I’ll never provoke that mad—Princess of Lin’an again!”
“Please spare me!” Cui Xueqin’s voice had grown hoarse from shouting.
Cui Weijin turned a page, his fingers slowly tracing a line of text.
It recorded an incident from a previous dynasty—of a favored consort who had used secret arts to bewitch the ruler, and was ultimately executed.
Seeing no signal to stop, the steward raised the rod again.
Just as the eighth strike was about to fall, steady footsteps sounded from the entrance of the ancestral hall.
Cui Weijin closed the scroll and turned around.
Duke Cui entered, dressed in a dark green robe for daily wear.
He appeared to be around fifty years old. His features bore some resemblance to Cui Weijin’s, but his brows carried the authority of someone long accustomed to power.
“Uncle! Uncle, save me!” Cui Xueqin cried out, clutching at her last hope.