A late Emperor’s consort, and with the surname Feng — the only person Feng Jiu’er could think of was Feng Qingyin.

The news that Emperor Qiwen had passed and that Zhan Yuheng had ascended the throne was something Feng Jiu’er had already known.

She simply had not expected that upon arriving, she would hear this particular piece of news.

“It’s the Noble Consort Qing — do none of you know?” The man in the blue robe set down his empty bowl and said.

“She’s one of the late Emperor’s consorts — is it so surprising that we don’t recognize her?” The man who had first spoken lowered his voice.

“Though it’s best we say less about such things.”

“Weren’t you the one who brought it up in the first place?” The man in the gray robe shot the man beside him a look of disdain.

“One of the late Emperor’s consorts, to be personally executed by His Majesty — who knows what she did to deserve it?”

“Do none of you know?” the man in the blue robe continued. “I heard this consort used having a little prince in her hands as leverage to run riot in the rear palace for quite some time.”

“Someone like that — committing wrong after wrong, it’s perfectly natural for His Majesty to have had his fill of it.”

“You certainly know a lot,” said the man in the gray robe, picking up his cup and taking a sip of wine. “Do you know when the execution is to be carried out?”

“Three days from now, I heard. Beyond that, I don’t know.” The man in the blue robe replied quietly.

Feng Jiu’er held her teacup and kept her eyes on the three men not far away.

Only when the waiter came over with the food did she withdraw her gaze.

“What’s the matter?” Feng Yandong asked softly.

Feng Jiu’er raised her eyes to look at him and said quietly: “Let’s eat first — I’ll tell you afterwards.”

“Mm.” Feng Yandong nodded and asked no more.

After finishing their meal at the inn, the two of them simply took rooms there for the night.

In the chamber, Feng Jiu’er sat at the table, brush and paper in hand, sketching something on it.

Feng Yandong knocked and pushed open the chamber door, stepping inside.

He sat down across from Feng Jiu’er and asked in a low voice: “Has the plan changed?”

“Mm.” Feng Jiu’er nodded. “I need to enter the palace first.”

Why Feng Qingyin was to be put to death by Zhan Yuheng — that, Feng Jiu’er had no desire to know.

But she had to sort out one particular matter before Feng Qingyin died.

“Enter the palace?” Feng Yandong frowned. “Right now, the situation inside the palace is unknown. It won’t be easy for us to get in.”

“I was about to send word to the brothers we have stationed in the imperial capital, to get a clearer picture of a few things.” Feng Jiu’er bent her head and continued sketching on the paper.

“But on this matter, I must go in regardless.”

“Is it because of the Noble Consort Qing?” Feng Yandong asked.

“Yes.” Feng Jiu’er nodded. “The Noble Consort Qing is Feng Qingyin — my nominal elder sister in the Feng family.”

“There are things I have to ask her myself. Don’t worry too much — this isn’t my first time entering the palace.”

“Right now, even the Emperor is occupied fighting Di Wuya’s forces. The palace guards must be far more lax than usual. If I go in under cover of night, there won’t be any trouble.”

“Alright.” Feng Yandong nodded. “I’ll go in with you.”

Feng Jiu’er nodded, folded the letter she had been writing, stood up, and went to open the chamber window.

“Dong, go rest. At first light tomorrow, we set out.”

“Alright.” Feng Yandong nodded, rose, turned, and walked out.

A soft whistle sounded, and a bird landed on Feng Jiu’er’s shoulder.

Feng Jiu’er tied the letter to the bird’s leg; the bird departed, and she closed the window and went to lie down on the bed.

After several months apart, everything had changed — and besides the palace, she also needed to return to the Feng family manor.

At the Feng manor — her wet nurse was no longer there, Yanu had also left — but there was still a grandfather who had treated her well.

Besides wanting to go back and get to the truth of her wet nurse’s death, Feng Jiu’er also felt some worry that Feng Qingyin’s affairs might have brought trouble upon the Feng family.

Whatever the case, Grandfather Feng was a good man — someone who had devoted his entire life to the nation and its people — and Feng Jiu’er could not bear to see him spend his final years in bleakness.

With all these thoughts turning over in her mind, Feng Jiu’er found herself unable to sleep.

No one knew how long passed before the breathing of the person on the bed gradually steadied and grew even.

Day after day — two days’ time was no more than the blink of an eye.

Even in summer, the nights within the palace held a slight chill.

A dark shadow slipped through the city wall and was gone in an instant, leaving no trace.

Deep within the dungeons — one could not quite call the place terrifying, yet a cold draft swept through in waves.

Feng Jiu’er, dressed in dark night-travel clothing, moved along the ceiling beams without drawing anyone’s attention.

She made her way steadily forward, and it was not until she reached the innermost cell that she finally caught sight of a somewhat familiar silhouette.

The cell was very dim — unlike the outer areas, in this particular cell, the only light was a thin sliver of moonlight filtering through one small window, and nothing else.

Feng Qingyin sat on the single wooden bed in the cell, her eyes long since drained of their luster.

The woman she was at this moment bore absolutely no resemblance to the once-imperious Feng Qingyin — she seemed an entirely different person.

Yet no matter how changed she was, Feng Jiu’er recognized her at a single glance.

She alighted lightly and stood before the cell without making a single sound.

Feng Qingyin felt a gust of wind sweep in, and by the time she looked up, someone was already standing there before her.

The reason Feng Jiu’er could open the cell door with such ease was not because she herself possessed the skill — it was because the brothers they had planted in the imperial city had prepared a key for her in advance. Reportedly, it was a key that could open any cell door in the dungeon.

Feng Qingyin stared up at the black-clad figure who had appeared out of nowhere, and the faintest trace of light rekindled itself in her eyes.

“Who are you? Have you come to rescue me?” Feng Qingyin scrambled excitedly to her feet and seized Feng Jiu’er’s sleeve.

“Get me out of here — I cannot stay in this wretched place. I will not stay in this wretched place.”

Feng Jiu’er was in no hurry. She fixed her gaze on Feng Qingyin’s eyes and showed no reaction at all.

Feng Qingyin had done all manner of evil — and now that she had been brought so low, she had doubtless suffered no small amount of torment.

Zhan Yuheng had no time to concern himself with such minor matters, and so Feng Qingyin’s enemies had come knocking instead.

There were many empty cells outside — and here in this place, one could say that Feng Qingyin’s cries could reach neither heaven nor earth.

Feng Qingyin released Feng Jiu’er’s sleeve and stared at the open cell door.

“I… want to get out. I don’t want to stay in this wretched place. I will not stay here any longer.” Suddenly she seemed to go mad, and bolted for the door.

Feng Jiu’er stretched out her arm, and without even needing to make contact, she reached out her hand in a casual backward pull — Feng Qingyin shot backward at tremendous speed and fell onto the straw.

“Ah—” A cry rang out, utterly hoarse.

The woman who had fallen — disheveled and dressed in old, tattered clothing — no longer had the strength even to climb to her feet.

Feng Jiu’er took two steps forward and stood before Feng Qingyin. The beam of moonlight filtering through happened to fall perfectly upon her face.

She curved the corners of her mouth slightly upward, raised her hand, and tore away the cloth covering her own face.

Feng Qingyin stared up at the woman standing tall and composed before her, and in her eyes a murderous intent ignited at once.

“Is that you? How can it be you? Why haven’t you died yet!”

“No — you haven’t died yet, and so I cannot die either. Before I die, I will make sure I put an end to you, you wretched woman!”

With those words, Feng Qingyin rose from the ground and lunged at Feng Jiu’er.