Amidst the flickering lamplight, the hidden chamber door abruptly swung open.
Xie Huaizhou, dressed in casual blue robes and seated in an official’s armchair with a teacup in hand, lifted his gaze to Yuan Fuyu standing at the entrance of the secret room. An aura of restrained pressure emanated from him.
He stared at Yuan Fuyu as he slowly placed the lid back on his teacup.
Yuan Fuyu raised her brows slightly, a faint smile dancing in her eyes.
He Yichen, covered in blood with swollen eyes that could barely open, lay bound tightly on the floor, a cloth gag stuffed in his mouth.
Pei Du’s expression shifted abruptly. He hadn’t expected Yuan Fuyu to know about the hidden chamber behind the interrogation room. Almost the moment Xie Huaizhou closed the teacup lid, Pei Du kicked the brush holder off the desk, striking Yuan Fuyu behind the knee.
Yuan Fuyu gasped in pain, stumbling to her knees. She pitched forward, bracing herself against Xie Huaizhou’s leg to steady her balance.
Before she could utter a curse, Pei Du twisted her arm, yanking her backward and forcing her to kneel at Xie Huaizhou’s feet, confiscating the whip from her hand.
Yuan Fuyu laughed in sheer fury.
Since the deaths of her father, the late Emperor, and her mother, she had never knelt before anyone.
Yet this was already the second time Xie Huaizhou had received her kneeling submission.
Xie Huaizhou lowered his gaze to the spot on his leg where Yuan Fuyu had touched him, set his teacup on the small table beside him, and flicked his sleeve with his fingers—his disdain unmistakable.
Yuan Fuyu looked up. Her dark pupils reflected Xie Huaizhou’s sharp, resolute jawline and the condescending gaze he cast down upon her, causing her to recall, quite untimely, their wedding day.
The lean and upright Xie Huaizhou had knelt on the red bridal bed’s footrest, offering her tea. As he moved to remove her shoes and socks while she was intoxicated, she tugged at his belt, forcing him to straighten his spine, his hands braced against the edge of the bed.
Their eyes met. Xie Huaizhou’s usually gentle and composed gaze trembled slightly. As she untied his belt and meticulously peeled off his immaculate wedding robes layer by layer, his neck and ears flushed a deep crimson, the corners of his eyes tinged red. Yet he continued to stare directly at her—youthful, inexperienced, and restrained.
Just as she parted his inner garment, Xie Huaizhou suddenly seized her hand, halting her undressing. Leaning closer in an almost aggressive manner, his grip on the bed wrinkled the sheets. His breathing grew erratic, sweat beading in his palms where veins bulged. Like a wild wolf shedding its elegant disguise, his voice trembled as he begged forgiveness for his audacious offense, yet he dared to kneel at her feet, tilt his head up, and kiss her.
Back then, Yuan Fuyu had never imagined that one day she would kneel before Xie Huaizhou—not once, but twice.
Nor had she ever thought that the Xie Huaizhou who had been so obedient and submissive in her presence could possess such an arrogant and domineering side.
Yuan Fuyu’s gaze as she traced his features was far too brazen. Xie Huaizhou adjusted his sleeves, resting his elbow on the arm of the chair, and asked calmly, “Do you no longer want these eyes of yours?”
There was no denying that Xie Huaizhou’s face was breathtaking.
His bone structure was exquisite, his brows and eyes dark and intense—his handsomeness striking and overwhelming. Otherwise, at Chongfu Temple back then… Yuan Fuyu would never have taken a liking to him at first glance.
Perhaps it was the authority he now wielded, surpassing that of high-ranking officials, but Xie Huaizhou’s already sharp and handsome features had grown even more compelling compared to three years ago.
Seeing Yuan Fuyu subdued, the half-dead He Yichen finally stirred. Just as he struggled to rise, Xie Huaizhou indifferently raised his foot and pressed it down on He Yichen’s head, effortlessly holding him in place.
Yuan Fuyu shot He Yichen a look, signaling him to stay calm.
Pei Du pressed Yuan Fuyu downward: “Miss Cui, He Yichen and you—the Princess’s trusted aide—can live, or you can die. Does Miss Cui wish to live or die?”
“Death is certainly out of the question,” Yuan Fuyu slowly smiled. “Unless Minister Xie can kill all the Golden Banner Eighteen Guards or make them change their testimony as well.”
Yuan Fuyu could see that He Yichen’s injuries looked severe but were merely superficial wounds.
Pei Du had shown mercy—and not just a little.
“You have your questions, and I have my own investigations. Answer my queries, and I’ll naturally share what you wish to know.” Yuan Fuyu glanced sideways at Pei Du, who restrained her. “Pei Du, you can shelve your usual interrogation tactics!”
Pei Du tightened his grip on Yuan Fuyu. The audacious arrogance of this person who should be under interrogation stirred a strange, unsettling feeling of being seen through.
Xie Huaizhou asked, “Where did you obtain that letter from the Princess?”
“I’m not accustomed to answering questions while being restrained,” Yuan Fuyu met Xie Huaizhou’s gaze.
Xie Huaizhou’s dark eyes showed no ripple of emotion. He waved his hand, signaling Pei Du to release her.
The pressure on half her shoulder vanished as she stood, glancing at He Yichen at Xie Huaizhou’s feet. “Bring two chairs.”
Pei Du said coldly, “Pushing your luck?”
Xie Huaizhou nodded, indicating for Pei Du to provide chairs.
Soon, Mystic Eagle Guards brought two chairs—one placed behind Yuan Fuyu, another set aside as they helped He Yichen into it.
Yuan Fuyu leisurely seated herself, studying Xie Huaizhou’s handsome yet stern face. “The letter was delivered to me four years ago by the Princess’s order.”
Pei Du pressed his lips together and nodded to Xie Huaizhou—the timeline matched.
After verifying the letter’s authenticity, Pei Du had estimated the Princess’s writing time through ink analysis, the sheen and texture of the ten-color stationery, and ink penetration.
Having answered, Yuan Fuyu asked Pei Du, “Did you betray the Princess, or… after her death, did you choose Xie Huaizhou to consolidate power?”
Her gaze remained fixed on Xie Huaizhou’s face, meticulously examining his expression.
Pei Du replied, “I would never betray the Princess in this lifetime. But I didn’t choose Minister Xie for power—I followed the Princess’s command in choosing him.”
Yuan Fuyu chuckled softly.
To think after three and a half years apart, Pei Du’s acting had improved. Were she not the Princess herself… she might almost have believed him.
“Pei Du, you dare not speak the truth,” Yuan Fuyu rested her left elbow on the armrest, mocking. “Is it because Minister Xie is present?”
“Miss Cui, stop evading the subject,” Pei Du maintained composure. “Since you’re the Princess’s confidante, what orders did she give you while you were far away in Wu City?”
“Even between you and He Yichen—both close to the Princess—there was no precedent for sharing mission details. You overstep.” After responding, Yuan Fuyu asked Pei Du, “Where were you the night the Princess died?”
“I was with the Princess at the manor. After the Princess and Minister Xie retired to rest, Lu Pingxuan lured me outside the estate. By the time I realized something was wrong and rushed back, the Princess was drawing her last breath.” After answering, Pei Du immediately followed up with a question: “The Princess’s letter to you stated that both He Yichen and I were Her Highness’s trusted aides. Yet instead of seeking me out, you collaborated with the fallen He Yichen and the Golden Wu Guard Qiancheng, bringing He Yichen and the Golden Banner Eighteen Guards to kill me. What exactly… are you scheming?”