Tan Mian turned to his daughter. “Hua’er, speak for yourself.”
Tan Hua was already in tears. “I didn’t—I didn’t try to assassinate the Princess.”
“You’re certain it wasn’t your men?” Cen Hejue pressed.
Her eyes darted nervously. “N-no.”
Tan Mian pulled her behind him, pleading. “Perceptor, my daughter is still young. Please don’t make things hard for her. If she marries the Second Prince one day, she’ll be your kin as well.”
“I’ve come this far without anyone daring to claim kinship with me.” Cen Hejue lazily lifted his lids, glancing at Tan Hua. “Lord Tan, your daughter may be young, but her courage is anything but small.”
He signaled to Ah Yan, who quickly summoned two groups forward: one, bandits held in custody; the other, a youth in a servant’s garb.
“This is a servant of your household. Three days ago, at your daughter’s command, he went to the hills outside the capital, bribed these bandits, and ordered them to assassinate the Princess.”
The servant’s uniform was unmistakably that of the Tan household. Tan Mian froze at the sight.
“Yesterday, you witnessed Kaifeng Prefecture’s power. It’s time to tell the truth.”
Cen Hejue stepped before the bandits. “What happened? Whoever speaks first has the best chance of surviving.”
At once, one bandit blurted out: “It was the Tan family who bought us. We weren’t brigands before—just mountain folk. That young man gave us a hundred taels to buy our lives.”
Tan Hua’s eyes widened. “Lies! I never bribed you!”
Cen Hejue turned to the servant, his voice cold. “They’ve spoken the truth. Now it’s your turn.”
The boy, barely grown, was trembling so hard he nearly wet himself. “I—I only did what our young lady ordered. It wasn’t my idea!”
“Ding’er! You’re spouting nonsense!” Tan Hua cried, face flushed—yet in her panic, she had unwittingly confirmed his identity.
“Whether he lies or not, I’ll decide.” Cen Hejue returned to the dais, glanced at Qin Fei, then asked the Prefect of Kaifeng, “What is the punishment for attempting to assassinate a Princess?”
“The Princess is of imperial blood. For Miss Tan to dare such a crime, the law decrees beheading,” the Prefect replied.
“No!” Tan Hua sprang to her feet, shouting, “I didn’t try to kill the Princess! The one I wanted dead was Gu Nian!” Her voice rang through the hall.
Qin Fei arched a brow, nearly laughing.
Well, well. A self-confession.
“Tan Hua! You—!” Tan Mian stared at his daughter in disbelief.
When Tan Hua realized what she had just blurted out, her face went deathly pale. Shocked, she clapped a hand over her mouth. “I—I didn’t… I didn’t!”
“I didn’t!”
Only then did Qin Fei understand why Cen Hejue had insisted earlier that Tan Hua’s target was her—it had all been a trap to make Tan Hua reveal herself.
“Tan Hua, you tried to assassinate the Chancellor’s daughter. The Princess and many other young ladies nearly suffered because of you. Truly despicable.”
The Prefect of Kaifeng slammed the table, then bowed his head toward Cen Hejue. “Perceptor, the guilt of the Tan father and daughter is beyond doubt. But as Lord Tan holds office, I must report this matter to His Majesty and the Ministry of Justice before sentencing can be passed.”
“Of course.” Cen Hejue had already extracted the truth. His work was done; there was no need to linger.
“Your Highness, are you not going to rise? Planning to stay here just to watch the spectacle?” He glanced back at Qin Fei, his expression utterly different from the man who had just praised her as a peerless beauty.
“…”
Leaving the yamen, Cen Hejue escorted Qin Fei back to the palace. On the way, she stole a glance at him. “Perceptor.”
He lowered his head, reading, as if unwilling to acknowledge her.
“Perceptor?” She leaned closer, gazing at him expectantly.
“What is it?” Cen Hejue frowned at her.
Yesterday, carrying her back had already crossed the boundaries he kept with others. He had no wish to entangle himself further with Qin Fei.
“The way you tricked Tan Hua just now—it was brilliant.”
Cen Hejue turned his eyes aside, expression unreadable. “Flattery.”
“It’s not flattery.” Qin Fei smiled. “Who would have thought Tan Mian was pulling such dirty tricks behind the scenes? Truly unexpected.”
“Your Highness, the world holds many things you’ll find unexpected.” Though his gaze skimmed the page, not a word sank in.
“But today, there’s one more thing I didn’t expect.” Qin Fei arched a brow at him.
Cen Hejue gave a soft “Oh,” his tone rising faintly, as if uninterested. “And what’s that?”
“That you’re inviting me to dinner tonight.” Qin Fei blinked at him playfully.
Cen Hejue lifted his lids, a trace of mockery in his eyes. “Your Highness, it’s nearly evening and you’re still not sober. Best not to drink again next time.”
“…”
Well. Her tolerance wasn’t great. But her wits were still sharp.
“You use me, then walk away without giving me anything in return—isn’t that rather unkind?” Qin Fei frowned.
“Use you?” Cen Hejue seemed suddenly amused. He set his book aside on the small table. “I’m all ears.”
Qin Fei lifted her chin. “If I’m not mistaken, the Tan family’s daughter is about to be betrothed to my second brother. That would make Lord Tan the Second Prince’s father-in-law.”
“So what?” Cen Hejue raised a brow.
“Perceptor.” Qin Fei leaned closer, her bright, striking face full of probing intent. “You don’t like my second brother, do you?”
“What does the Second Prince have to do with this?” Cen Hejue feigned ignorance.
She pressed on. “The Tan family is one of Qin Jin’s strongest allies. You dislike Qin Jin, so you want to cut off his support, isn’t that it?”
Cen Hejue’s smile was faint, but the curve of his lips carried a chill. “Why would Your Highness think that?”
Qin Fei continued, her reasoning clear. “Tan Mian holds high office. Bringing him down isn’t easy. You couldn’t strike openly, so you started with the Qianjin Pavilion. Killing its master was just a distraction, drawing attention to the case. In truth, you wanted to expose something bigger—Tan Mian’s corruption in the examinations.”
Cen Hejue’s eyes flickered, but he said nothing.
“At the Pavilion, you used my presence to make the matter weightier in the eyes of others.” Her voice was steady, her logic precise. “When I was attacked yesterday, you saw the chance to link the two cases together. Father and daughter both guilty of unforgivable crimes—you could crush the Tan family completely. And with that, Qin Jin loses an arm.”
Cen Hejue’s gaze shimmered, his tone unreadable. “Your Highness, do you know why I dislike Qin Jin?”
Because Cen Hejue coveted the throne, and Qin Jin, as the Emperor’s son, might one day inherit it—especially with another prince too frail to rule. Isolating Qin Jin would make it easier for Cen Hejue to seize power.
Of course, Qin Fei could only think this to herself. To say it aloud in front of him might cost her life.
“That’s because you taught Qin Jin,” she said instead, “and you know he’s not fit to be king. You don’t approve of him, so naturally you dislike him.”
Cen Hejue’s lips curved, his dark eyes like a dangerous black hole, both alluring and perilous. “Your Highness is truly clever. Then tell me—do you know whom I favor to be king?”
Qin Fei faltered, the air itself seeming to tighten under his probing words.