After sending off Han Yirou and Han Mao, Yunli had his eunuch summon Su Jin.
“My dear minister,” Yunli said cautiously, still a little wary of Su Jin. Su Jin had once been appointed Yunli’s tutor for a few days—strict and proper—but young Yunli had cried and fussed, refusing to continue, leaving a lingering shadow.
Clearing his throat, Yunli got to the point:
“This Han family case… in my view, shouldn’t it be resolved now?”
“Your Majesty,” Su Jin responded. Having heard rumors that Han had knelt before the Taihe Hall, he frowned:
“Your Majesty, I cannot falsely accuse the innocent. With so many doubts, a verdict cannot yet be made.”
“Cannot be made? Haven’t you already found the powdered medicine in Kong Wenlang’s inner chamber? The movements line up. Such a simple case, and you still hesitate?”
Su Jin’s most infuriating trait was his stubbornness—unable to bend, unable to read the room; two immovable oxen could not pull him.
Unmoved, Su Jin replied:
“Your Majesty, if the Han family heiress could see from beyond, she would wish for the true culprit to be found. Surface evidence is not the truth. Give me more time, and I will ensure the real criminal faces justice.”
Repeated refusals made Yunli slam the documents on the table in frustration, though he restrained his temper:
“Su Jin!”
With a thud, Su Jin knelt, eyes firm yet tinged with disappointment:
“Your Majesty! I occupy this position to uncover the truth for all under heaven. If all you desire is a result to silence public opinion, then anyone could hold this post.”
Yunli’s chest heaved with anger—he hadn’t expected Su Jin to hold him hostage with this argument.
He wanted to remove Su Jin, but doing so wouldn’t quell the public outcry.
Silence fell. When the stalemate persisted, Eunuch Zhuang hurried in and whispered into Yunli’s ear.
Yunli took a breath, let Su Jin rise, and said:
“Summon Shen Yu.”
Shen Yu entered in a dark red court robe, his pale complexion giving him the refined air of a young gentleman.
“Your Majesty,” he greeted. As a meritorious official, he was exempt from kneeling.
“Shen Yu,” Yunli’s face brightened with a smile.
Shen Yu was the son of the Marquis of Qing’an, and they shared a childhood friendship, though after Shen Yu went to guard the northwest border, meetings had been rare.
Reuniting after a long time, Yunli felt a pang of nostalgia:
“The Han family case happened suddenly. I regret not allowing you proper rest. Once it concludes, I will hold a welcome feast to repay you!”
Shen Yu bowed slightly, head lowered:
“Your Majesty, I came today for the Han family case.”
Yunli’s face stiffened, a hint of irritation showing:
“Shen Yu, do you also think Kong Wenlang is not the culprit, like Su Jin?”
Shen Yu replied solemnly:
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The friendly smile faded from Yunli’s face. He rose from the dragon throne and stood before Shen Yu.
Feeling shorter and unwilling to look up, Yunli stepped back slightly:
“My dear minister, the Han family is the imperial consort’s natal family. This concerns the honor of a young lady and the dignity of the throne—it cannot be delayed.”
Shen Yu clasped his hands behind his back:
“This is not about rushing the verdict. I do not need a welcome feast, only that Your Majesty grant a few more days’ extension.”
Yunli was silent for a moment. Granting him face, he stepped back:
“Then you shall have a three-day deadline.”
When the three days elapsed, Han Ruichu would be buried, and Kong Wenlang executed.
“Your Majesty, wise as always.”
Shen Yu relaxed into a faint smile, reminiscing briefly, before departing Taihe Hall together with Su Jin.
Su Jin sighed in relief:
“Thanks to Little Shen arriving in time.”
He knew his own temper annoyed Yunli; dragging things out would not yield any concession.
Shen Yu, hearing Su Jin repeatedly call him “Little Shen,” was now numb:
“I could only secure a three-day extension. Any ideas on your end?”
Su Jin shook his head, then nodded, sighing:
“Hard to explain.”
Indeed, he had no plan. But over the past two days, the Di brothers had been running about with Wang You, who probably had ideas.
Still, this couldn’t be shared with outsiders, so Su Jin said nothing.
Shen Yu did not press further; they parted at the palace gate:
“I discovered that Han Ruichu’s maid, Lian Qiao, has appeared in the capital. She is alive.”
Su Jin rejoiced:
“Then let’s act separately. Little Shen, find Lian Qiao’s whereabouts; I will continue tracing the owner of the footprints.”
First Day of the Three-Day Deadline
“Miss, what shall we do? Are we really going to falsely accuse an innocent person?” Tao Chun fretted, cheeks flushed.
Su Yihan, annoyed at the commotion, set aside her bamboo slips and looked at her:
“Going to buy new clothes?”
Tao Chun was startled—why suddenly talk about clothes?
“Miss, aren’t you worried the three days won’t be enough to find the culprit?”
Su Yihan smiled faintly:
“My hands cannot lift, my shoulders cannot carry. Detective work is of no concern to me.”
Tao Chun stuck out her tongue:
“I may not understand what you’re thinking, Miss, but I trust that whatever you do, you have your reasons.”
She called for servants to prepare a sedan chair.
Su Yihan interrupted:
“No sedan chair—sneak out of the residence.”
“Then I’ll bring the Di brothers,” Tao Chun said, keeping them as backup in case of danger.
“Very well,” Su Yihan didn’t refuse, knowing her own limits. She could not defeat or outrun a malicious person, so she valued her life.
The main street was bustling. Their eyes were fixed on Zhu Yan Tower, where young ladies of noble families shopped for fabrics and clothes.
Tao Chun, excited by the beautiful materials, immediately forgot about the case. She looked left and right eagerly:
“Miss, look at this fabric! Isn’t it beautiful?”
A sea-bloom red cloth embroidered with lifelike rabbits—vivid, exquisite, perfect for a young lady in her prime.
Su Yihan nodded in approval.
As Tao Chun was about to pay, the fabric was snatched away.
Tao Chun recognized the culprit: Shen Xinyao, the third concubine’s daughter of the Marquis of Qing’an. Inherited her mother’s appearance, she carried a striking, aggressive beauty, dressed extravagantly, eyebrows long, radiantly elegant.
“This is mine!” Shen Xinyao’s lips curved slightly.
“Miss Shen,” the shop assistant fawned, bowing, “this fabric suits Miss Shen’s delicate skin. It’s newly arrived, soft and comfortable.”
Tao Chun protested:
“Miss Shen, I saw it first!”
Su Yihan was a phoenix among people, with noble status. Tao Chun, as her personal maid, commanded respect from most young ladies; yet she did not understand deference.
Shen Xinyao appraised her, clearly unimpressed. Though the cloth was fine, a mere maid dared challenge her.
With a mocking tone, Shen Xinyao said:
“And if I let you have it, can you even afford the price?”