This was clearly a premeditated setup, a frame-up.
Su Yihan never believed the culprit was Kong Hongcai. If Kong Hongcai had acted, he would have done so quietly, without causing such a stir. Making such a scene would bring him nothing but harm.
“I understand,” Su Yihan replied calmly.
Kong Wenlang slowly lifted his eyes. Through the thin veil of her straw hat, his gaze met hers faintly, indistinctly.
Compared to the other young ladies he had met, the emotions in her eyes were almost nonexistent.
He dared only a brief glance before averting his gaze. Su Yihan, not one to observe formalities for strangers, asked just a few simple questions before letting him go.
“Di Yuanxin, keep an eye on him,” Su Yihan instructed lightly.
Di Yuanxin scratched the back of his head:
“Miss, if you don’t trust him, why reveal your hand?”
Su Yihan’s faint smile:
“Have you ever raised a pet? Training a pet always involves temptation. Have you ever seen an owner fear betrayal from their pet? It’s just a matter of a single decisive action. No need to worry, no need to panic.”
She would not trust someone she had barely met. Kong Wenlang’s status made him useful for her purposes: a little incompetent, perhaps, but clean and reliable enough.
“So, Miss, are we going to compete with Lord Cao for this case?” Tao Chun asked anxiously. “But Father isn’t here—by what authority would we compete?”
Su Yihan replied simply:
“In the General’s name.”
The imperial hunting grounds were on the outskirts, heavily guarded.
Canopies had been set up, and Yun Li, sweating from the heat, sat at the main seat. Consort Han Yirou fanned him gently at his side.
“Your Majesty, who do you think will take the top prize?”
“Shen Yu, probably,” Yun Li replied, eyes half-closed, enjoying the attention.
Shen Yu rode a fiery chestnut horse, clad in sleek black riding attire. His hair tied high in a ponytail swayed with the horse’s gallop like it had a life of its own.
With sharp brows, starry eyes, and a defined jawline lifted in pride, he exuded talent and poise.
His long, slender hands gripped the reins, exuding elegance. He drew his bow and struck a fleeing gray hare in the leg, immobilizing it.
Shen Yu dismounted, lifting the hare by its ears toward Yun Li.
Yun Li stifled a laugh:
“Shen Yu, why focus on a little hare? I was just praising you to Yirou, saying you’d likely win first place.”
Shen Yu smiled:
“The hare, cleaned, can be roasted and eaten. We can’t finish the others anyway.”
Yun Li shook his head helplessly:
“You’re just the same as when you were a child.”
As a boy, while other young nobles played and indulged, Shen Yu climbed trees to read. Others explored romantic interests; he volunteered for the frontier, starting from the lowest post, rising to become the famed Northwest General.
His eldest child was already four, yet he still had no concubine. On appearance and temperament, he seemed a man addicted to leisure, yet disciplined.
He tossed the hare to Feng Chao to roast.
The hare was scalded, gutted, washed repeatedly, brushed with oil, roasted over the fire, sprinkled with salt and cumin—simple, unpretentious, authentic.
The sun began to set, dyeing half the sky crimson, and everyone gathered together.
Shen Yu tore off a plump leg, crossed his legs, and relaxed contentedly.
Yun Li looked at him, a faint envy in his eyes. Shen Yu’s life was free—unlike the Emperor, who, despite being supreme, had almost every action monitored. A ruler could never cross legs at will.
“Have you gotten used to being back in the capital?” Yun Li asked.
“Fine,” Shen Yu raised a brow. “It’s just the young men are too excitable.”
He could scold them with a stern face, yet they’d quickly revert, laughing and calling “General!”
Su Jin, however, absentmindedly gnawed on a rabbit paw for a long time, nearly swallowing the bone.
A colleague hastily grabbed his arm:
“Lord Su, what are you thinking? The Su household isn’t that poor; you can’t eat the bones.”
Su Jin spat out the fragments and forced a smile:
“Thanks.”
He was worried about Wangyou—after returning to the capital, it had become increasingly restless, dangerous in the shadows.
Usually independent, Wangyou never consulted him. Lately, she went out even more frequently—surely plotting…
Thankfully, after eating, Yun Li was tired and returned to the palace. Su Jin ran swiftly back to the residence.
Before handling matters, Su Yihan never entirely ignored her father’s opinions. She would consult him; usually, he agreed, and if not, she could persuade him.
So Su Yihan ate while waiting.
At the round table, only Su Yihan sat alone, eating deliberately, quietly, a hint of… loneliness about her.
Her features bore a six- or seven-point resemblance to her mother. Su Jin’s eyes instantly reddened.
When Wangyou was born, doctors said she might not survive, and if she did, her life would be short.
He refused to believe it, pulling his only daughter back from death’s door. Now she had safely reached sixteen.
Yet he always felt he hadn’t done enough. Wangyou had no mother, no true friends like others. He had brought her to this world but could not give her even a few peaceful days…
“Father,” Su Yihan sensed footsteps, looked up warmly, and smiled faintly:
“Have you eaten?”
“Yes,” Su Jin replied, extracting his hand like a treasured artifact from behind his back, holding a snow-white rabbit:
“I saw this hare at the hunting grounds today. Do you like it?”
Su Yihan set down her chopsticks, lifted her skirt, approached slowly, poked the soft belly, and smiled:
“I like it!”
Su Jin beamed:
“I’ll keep it in your courtyard for company!”
“Thank you, Father,” Su Yihan tugged at his sleeve and sat, eyes expectant:
“Father, may I take over the Xiaoluo case?”
Su Jin paused, neither agreeing nor refusing, only asking:
“Why, Wangyou?”
“Because it also falls under the Han family case, Father…” Su Yihan lowered her gaze, lightly swaying his wide sleeve:
“You know I never leave a task unfinished.”
Su Jin hesitated for two seconds before indulgently agreeing:
“Alright, then I’ll petition His Majesty.”
“No,” Su Yihan smiled slyly:
“I have my own plan!”