Yan Qingzhi stared at the bodies covered in white cloths in the Ministry of Justice’s morgue, slightly stunned.
So many corpses—how come Qizhou Prefecture hadn’t received any notice?
Prime Minister Cui wore a purple robe, hands clasped behind his back, while the coroner was reporting.
He stepped forward. “Prime Minister Cui, what is this?”
Cui Hao waved his hand. “Chief Yan, what business brings you to the Ministry of Justice?”
Yan Qingzhi hesitated, lips pressed together. “I wonder if Prime Minister Cui has time to meet at the Yan residence.”
Cui Hao frowned, puzzled. “Chief Yan has something to discuss? The Ministry has a major case; His Majesty has ordered the culprit found within ten days. I’m afraid I cannot leave official duties.”
Yan Qingzhi knew Cui Hao would not agree. Since marrying the Princess three years ago, he had not socialized with court officials.
Cui Hao’s life followed a strict two-point routine: Ministry of Justice, Cui residence, Cui residence, Ministry of Justice.
After entering officialdom, he had lost his previous carefree demeanor in Qizhou, replaced by a calm steadiness.
Yan Qingzhi had to admire this.
Cui Hao sensed Yan Qingzhi had a purpose and waved everyone away.
“Very well, Chief Yan, speak.”
Yan Qingzhi, having studied for many years, found himself speaking words so lacking in etiquette that it embarrassed him.
He opened his mouth but lacked the courage to speak.
“If Chief Yan has not prepared, you may return for now; I will remain at the Ministry.”
Cui Hao’s manner was strictly by the book, showing no sentiment—truly one of the sternest magistrates in Daqian.
“My junior sister Miaoyi has a high fever that won’t subside. She keeps calling for two people—her father and a brother.”
Yan Qingzhi risked everything for his junior sister.
Cui Hao paused mid-stroke, an unusual look flashing in his eyes before settling into an indifferent tone. “Chief Yan, be careful with your words. Though I am an old friend of Miss Jing, we are still man and woman alone. If others hear this, it would harm Miss Jing’s reputation. Consider today’s words as unheard. The Ministry is busy; Meng Jin will not escort you.”
The dismissal was clear.
If Yan Qingzhi pressed further, it would disgrace his junior sister.
His face reddened and paled in turns, hands trembling slightly from anger, yet he suppressed it. “Prime Minister Cui, you truly restrain yourself and uphold propriety.”
He swept his sleeve and turned to leave.
He shouldn’t have come—asking for trouble.
Back then, the Cui family was ruthless, aligning with the powerful; outsiders praised him as just and upright, a paragon of justice.
But in truth, he was a thorough scoundrel.
Cui Hao took a deep breath, his tense body suddenly slumping into the chair.
He closed his eyes.
Memories of the oath by the Si River echoed in his mind.
When the Ministry of Justice’s deputy minister entered, seeing him with eyes closed, he was about to turn away.
“Any clues?”
“None yet, sir. But we can tell the perpetrator is skilled with a blade, decisive, killing with a single stroke, then dismembering. This act seems motivated by revenge and to send a warning.”
Cui Hao stood. “The cuts are precise; the weapon is not ordinary. Investigate based on this.”
At the Yan residence.
Zhao Jia saw her husband’s side empty and angrily grabbed her silver spear, about to act.
“Refusing to come? Let me handle him myself.”
Yan Qingzhi hurriedly snatched the silver spear—his wife was capable of such rash actions.
“Calm down, my lady. Forcing matters would only harm my junior sister.”
Zhao Jia, flustered, threw the spear over; Yan Qingzhi stumbled but managed to steady it.
“The Cui family really is iron-faced and impartial,” Zhao Jia muttered sarcastically.
“Not working—I’ll summon a shaman to call out to Miaoyi.”
She was an action-oriented person; once she decided, she acted.
Yan Qingzhi followed nervously to prevent being tricked.
That night.
By the heavens’ mercy, the long-standing high fever finally subsided; Jing Miaoyi woke.
“Miss, you’ve finally woken! You nearly scared me to death!” Baozhu cried, handing her the medicine she had prepared.
Jing Miaoyi coughed lightly, reaching out to comfort her by touching her head, then noticed pale yellow petals in her palm, her thoughts drifting.
“Miaoyi, you’ve finally woken!” Zhao Jia leapt forward, nearly crushing Miaoyi in her excitement.
“Zhao… Zhao sister, loosen your grip! I can barely breathe.”
Zhao Jia awkwardly released her. “Excited… too excited.”
“I told you, the ritual works, but you said I was superstitious!” Zhao Jia complained to Yan Qingzhi.
Yan Qingzhi: …
Indeed, a blind cat had stumbled upon a dead mouse.
“Sigh, Baozhu, why didn’t you close the window? The night is cold, the miss is just recovering.”
“I thought I closed it… how did it open?”
Jing Miaoyi lowered her gaze, clenching the petals in her hand.
Someone had been here.
Eighth year of Zhenhui, early July.
Jing Miaoyi had fully recovered; Zhao Jia had nearly fattened her up.
“Miaoyi, my residence is large; don’t go back to Yulan Residence—it’s unsafe.” Zhao Jia worried, though the Duke of Zhen Guo was reckless and rude.
He was capable of shameless acts.
“Don’t worry, Zhao sister. I can take care of myself. Whatever comes, comes; hiding won’t help. I’ve received news that my uncle has arrived in Shendu today—we haven’t seen each other for years.”
Zhao Jia still worried, thinking to station more people at Yulan Residence. Though few could match the Duke, numbers gave advantage.
“Then I won’t keep you. Your family reunion is important.”
At the Jing ancestral hall, after offering incense, they emerged as the sky turned orange.
“When I left here years ago, it was the same sunset. So many years later, I’ve grown older, but Shendu remains unchanged,” Jing Xuan sighed.
Youthful ideals had bent into a hunched back.
“I went to Qizhou to see your grandfather and father.”
Jing Miaoyi bowed her head. As a child, she hadn’t been able to pay proper respects.
Her father had served as an official for years, yet could not have a memorial or access the ancestral tomb.
She pressed her fingers into her palm, anger suppressed.
“Uncle seems to be delayed—was there trouble on the way?”
“Fourth sister, we were ambushed on the way, but luckily some kind souls helped us.” The messenger, dressed in pink with a single spiral bun, seemed young, still playful.
“I think someone is deliberately targeting the Jing family.”
“Miaoyin!” Jing Xuan scolded.
“Father, I’m not wrong—someone killed Second Uncle and framed you back then, causing your demotion to Jixi County.”
The young girl was fearless.
Jing Xuan rubbed his head—his daughter…
“Fifth sister is correct, Uncle. Back then, someone deliberately harmed our family. Now, Uncle has finally returned to Shendu; should we cower?”
Jing Xuan’s expression turned grave; his back was long bent.
In youth, he had lofty ambitions and fierce pride.
But now…
“I cannot see the sky high, the earth thick. Only the cold moon and warm sun press on human life.”
“Bini, I know you are unhappy, but for now, the Jing family seeks only survival. Your grandfather asked me to convey this: the current emperor is intelligent from childhood, politically sharp, skilled in martial arts, and unrestrained. If the emperor orders a man’s death, he must obey.”
“Father!” Jing Miaoyin shouted, furious. “Father and grandfather are afraid? Is the Jing family so soft-boned that others trample us at will? Retreating again and again only proves we are soft-shelled crabs.”
“Impudent!” Jing Xuan slapped her face, only then realizing his hand shook slightly.
“Do you understand? Speak rashly again, and I’ll send you back to Qizhou.”
“Return to the ancestral hall and kneel until you think it through.”
Jing Miaoyi stepped forward to intervene.
Jing Xuan said, “Miaoyi, no one lives a life without grievances. Let it go; your father will not blame you.”
Jing Miaoyi watched her uncle’s hunched back, hair already turning gray at forty.
These three years in Jixi had worn down all his sharp edges.
She bore no grudge, believing her uncle would understand in time.
She turned, gazing toward Qizhou.
Father, rest assured. No matter the difficulties, I will not give up.
Since the Princess is so eager to act against me, I cannot remain passive.
In chess, every move has a response.
Princess, let’s see who dies first.
At Yulan Residence.
She pushed the door open and saw Shen Jueming inside, her eyes flashing hesitation.
He still had the nerve to come here?
“Miaoyi,” Shen Jueming rushed forward. “Where did you go? You made me worry.”
He reached out to take her hand.
Jing Miaoyi calmly stepped back.
Shen Jueming’s expression darkened instantly. “Miaoyi, what does this mean? Have you given your heart to another?”
Tears filled her beautiful eyes.
She bit her lip, saying nothing, and ran into the room, burying her face on the table.
Shen Jueming’s harshness vanished; he hurried forward, holding her close. “Miaoyi, it’s my fault; I spoke carelessly.”
Jing Miaoyi pushed him away, crying. “Shen Lang, if you doubt me so, why even come? We no longer share any connection.”
“It’s my fault, all my fault,” he said, holding her tighter.
“I heard you were ill at the Yan residence; I dared not come, but knowing you returned here, I rushed over, worried when I didn’t see you.”
He offered a cup of tea. “Don’t cry; seeing you like this pains me.”
Jing Miaoyi calmly pulled away, taking the tea in hand.
Miaoyi, do not blame me. I do not wish to kill you; it is the Princess—her heart is narrower than a needle. She wants you dead.
If I do not act, I will die, and if I die, how can I protect you or avenge you?