There were countless cases under heaven, and major ones concerning the livelihood of the common people were innumerable. To the entire Imperial City, the case of a prince seducing and assaulting a noblewoman from the Wang family was nothing more than idle gossip for people after their meals.
As long as the case wasn’t fabricated and no one in power was covering it up, it wouldn’t stir public outrage.
At the same time, if the case were wrapped up in a muddled fashion and Prince Rui emerged completely unscathed, those old ministers in the Censorate—who saw it as their duty to uphold political clarity—would immediately flood the Emperor’s desk with impeachment memorials.
The Emperor held the power to rule the realm in his hands, yet he was still constrained by the oversight of the common folk. Once things escalated, even if the Emperor wished to protect someone, he would have no choice but to weigh the pros and cons.
The Capital Prefecture Yamen handled more cases every day than it could keep up with. Even though Wang Mingxuan’s striking of the Drum of Grievances had caused a massive uproar, once the storm passed, there were still piles of miscellaneous matters to deal with slowly.
With no statement from the Emperor and no confession from the prince, even if the evidence was ironclad, the authenticity of those letters, the origin of the jade artifacts, and the secret meeting times mentioned in them all had to be verified one by one by the underlings.
The workload was enormous, but if Liu Yuanxun still couldn’t find a way out after all that was cleared up, he would inevitably be convicted.
Wang Mingxuan was heartbroken, wishing Liu Yuanxun could be brought to justice and pay with his life right then and there. Yet instead of hearing news of Liu Yuanxun’s imprisonment, he himself was dragged out of bed by the Embroidered Uniform Guard on charges of “buying posts and dereliction of duty,” and thrown into the Imperial Prison overnight.
It was right around midnight, pitch black outside. Wang Mingxuan had stayed up half the night before finally closing his eyes, only to have his blankets yanked off the moment he drifted off. When he opened his eyes, he caught sight of a robe embroidered with dark gray qilin patterns.
He instantly recognized who it was. Just as he was about to shout, “Heaven is blind, the world is corrupt,” someone clamped a cloth soaked in Monghan Drug over his mouth.
Wang Mingxuan struggled a few times before closing his eyes in powerless despair. In that moment, he even felt he might never open them again.
The dead woman was his eldest daughter—the first child he’d welcomed nineteen years ago when he first became a father. She had been clever and gentle, deeply considerate, and in Wang Mingxuan’s heart, she outweighed even his only son.
One could imagine what a blow her tragic death was to him.
He knew full well what the consequences would be for crossing Prince Rui, yet he’d still gambled his own life on it.
But the moment the Embroidered Uniform Guard trumped up charges and quietly escorted him to the Imperial Prison under cover of night, he felt true despair from the depths of his soul—despair that he couldn’t avenge his daughter, and quiet hatred for this corrupt and benighted court.
When the Embroidered Uniform Guard tossed Wang Mingxuan onto the carriage, the servants from the Wang Family Noble Woman’s courtyard were also herded into prison carts, their hands bound and mouths gagged, kneeling in terror inside.
Gu Lianzhao stood in front of his sedan. Once everything was ready, an Embroidered Uniform Guard stepped forward respectfully and asked, “My lord, what should we do with these people?”
Gu Lianzhao glanced at the people in the sedan, his voice icy cold. “Throw Wang Mingxuan into the Imperial Prison and lock him up somewhere near the torture chambers. Don’t do anything else—just keep him alive. As for the others…”
His gaze turned frigid, utterly devoid of humanity. Everyone it swept over trembled uncontrollably. Then he said, “Interrogate them separately. If they’re honest, question them thoroughly and release them at once. Anyone caught fabricating or falsifying—execute them all for the crime of framing the imperial family!”
Those bloody words had barely left his mouth when the timid ones fainted dead away on the spot, and even the bold ones went pale with terror.
The Embroidered Uniform Guard clasped his fists in acknowledgment and led the way hastily to the Imperial Prison under escort.
Liu Yuanxun had tasked the Embroidered Uniform Guard with protecting Wang Mingxuan, but in such a vast world outside, food, drink, and shelter were all vulnerabilities. Wang Mingxuan was a mediocre man at best—a piece of cake to kill. Even with the Embroidered Uniform Guard guarding him tightly, his safety wasn’t guaranteed.
Throwing him into the Imperial Prison made it far easier, and besides, letting him stew for a couple of days amid the prisoners’ agonized screams would help calm him down for later questioning.
After all, Liu Yuanxun had only told him to preserve Wang Mingxuan’s life, not how to do it.
Gu Lianzhao cast a final glance at the carriage vanishing at the end of the street, then mounted his horse and headed toward the Capital Prefecture Yamen.
By the time he arrived, Physician Wang had just finished taking the pulse. The physician wore a worried expression as he spoke with Ling Ting; the two of them stood on the left side of the covered walkway. Gu Lianzhao could have gone straight in, but as he passed by, he paused and walked over to Physician Wang.
Spotting the approaching figure, Physician Wang looked up and hurriedly cupped his hands. “Lord Gu.”
Gu Lianzhao returned the salute and asked, “How is the prince?”
Physician Wang replied, “His Highness’s spirit is holding up well enough, and his pulse is much steadier than before—showing signs of recovering qi and blood. But he’s exhausted himself too much; his body can’t take it, so he’s bound to fall seriously ill again.”
He had channeled internal force into Liu Yuanxun continuously for over half a month, so a recovery in qi and blood was only natural. As for how much of that “holding up well” was mere bravado, probably only he and Liu Yuanxun knew.
Even so, Physician Wang’s words inexplicably eased Gu Lianzhao’s mind a little. He nodded and said, “Thank you for your trouble, Physician.”
Physician Wang hurriedly returned the courtesy. “You’re too kind, Lord Gu.”
Gu Lianzhao could feel Ling Ting watching him, but he didn’t look up. After finishing with Physician Wang, he strode straight to the side room, lifted the curtain, and stepped into the chamber where Liu Yuanxun was resting.
Liu Yuanxun had just drunk his medicine and was sleeping deeply. Ling Qing sat on a small stool by the bed, keeping watch. When Gu Lianzhao entered, she mouthed silently, “He just fell asleep.”
Several charcoal basins burned in the room, warming it up, though it was still dry and stifling compared to the underfloor heating in the prince’s mansion. Fortunately, a few basins of water sat by Liu Yuanxun’s bed, easing the dryness somewhat.
Gu Lianzhao was swamped with duties. He came, took one look at Liu Yuanxun, gave a few instructions to the Embroidered Uniform Guards waiting outside, and then hurried off again.
Not long after he left, Ling Ting entered the room. He soaked a cloth in hot water, slipped it under the covers, and gently wiped Liu Yuanxun’s feet.
As he worked, Ling Qing spoke softly. “Brother, don’t you think Lord Gu seems… different from before?”
Ling Ting’s heart skipped a beat, but his expression remained unchanged. He asked, “Different how?”
“I can’t put my finger on it.” Ling Qing glanced at Liu Yuanxun on the bed, then at the door through which Gu Lianzhao had just left. She hesitated. “I just feel like the old Lord Gu wouldn’t have bothered coming in specially to check on the master.”
He had no urgent business, and no one had summoned him. If he made a habit of running to the prince’s side all the time, the prince wouldn’t have set aside a whole room for him in the courtyard.
Ling Ting didn’t look up. He only said quietly, “Didn’t he say he’s handling this on imperial orders? Coming by is just him doing his duty.”
“Oh, right…” Ling Qing accepted the explanation easily and didn’t dwell on it.
That night, Liu Yuanxun didn’t wake, and Gu Lianzhao didn’t return.
…
The next morning, just as dawn was breaking, Gu Lianzhao took Liu Yuanxun’s token and headed to Xiao Jinye’s Former Residence.
He led Broom Tail on a leash, with several Embroidered Uniform Guards and attendants trailing behind. Seven or eight attendants pushed wooden carts loaded with large vats, while the guards carried all sorts of tools. The group made quite the procession.
Gu Lianzhao left two men to guard the gate, then led the rest straight to the front hall.
Yesterday’s snow had been a light layer that melted into water with the rising sun, mixing with the mud. Every step left a footprint, and soon the courtyard was a filthy mess.
Standing in the mud, Gu Lianzhao raised his hand to direct the men. He had them unload the vats first, then fill half with mash mixed with wine and the other half with clean water. Once the vats were half full, they added alum.
Next, he had the attendants set up a dozen or so charcoal basins. When the fires blazed hot, the eight Embroidered Uniform Guards split into two teams. One team hauled the items left in the front hall outside, soaking them first in the wine mash vats, then fishing them out and dipping them into the alum-water vats. The other team wielded brushes, scrubbing the front hall floor inch by inch in the same order: wine first, then water.
Once soaked in the mash, the surfaces absorbed the liquid. After the alum bath and a roast over the charcoal fires, the traces began to emerge.
One attendant shouted, “My lord! There’s blood on this!”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than another called out, “My lord, this one has it too!”
Gu Lianzhao acknowledged them but didn’t go look.
He simply stood there quietly, watching the front hall for any activity inside.
The hall was vast, cluttered with debris. The group worked from early morning until noon before finally restoring every bloodstain inside.
Whether on the floor, beams, or walls, every bloodied spot was marked. The stains weren’t abundant, and the splatters were sparse. Without such meticulous searching, they would have been easy to overlook.
Even so, it was clear at a glance that an extremely brutal murder had taken place here. The blood was scant, but it was scattered throughout the room—not something one or a few people could have left behind.
Gu Lianzhao had anticipated this. The exhaustive investigation was merely to confirm his suspicions: the family Xiao Jinye so desperately missed had likely been trapped in the front hall and slaughtered the very day he was imprisoned.
The reason the house hadn’t burned was surely not because the killers deliberately left evidence, but some other factor that had always prevented them from torching the place.
What that factor was, probably only the killers and Xiao Jinye himself knew.
Back then, when Liu Yuanxun had discussed the house with him, the prince had speculated that the Xiao family might have been wiped out, even wondering if the bodies were buried in the courtyard.
If they’d investigated a few years earlier, they might have found something. But eight years later, even if the bones had been carted out bit by bit, it gave the killers plenty of time to destroy the evidence.
So Gu Lianzhao didn’t waste time hunting for remains. Once he’d wrapped up at the house, he led his team back to the Imperial Prison.
…
Wang Mingxuan had been awake for a while.
When he first came to, he opened his eyes to pitch darkness, unable to see a thing. Only the stench of blood filling his nostrils reminded him this was no good place.
Then a piercing scream jolted him fully alert, flashing him back to the qilin-trimmed robe corner he’d glimpsed before blacking out.
