The jailer comfortably settled Chu Zhao, then ambled to see Deng Yi.

Deng Yi had already washed up and changed his clothes, and was just putting on his robe. Upon seeing the jailer, he raised his hand and tossed over a money pouch.

The jailer caught it with one hand, smiling: “I like Lord Deng’s way of not leaving debts overnight.”

Deng Yi smiled without saying a word, slowly tying his belt.

“Lord Deng, was this journey tiring?” The jailer sat down, examining Deng Yi’s slightly weary face after washing up, sighing that it wasn’t just physical exhaustion, but that he would also inevitably be implicated in what followed. “Young Lady Chu’s matter is troublesome. Everyone avoids the name Chu Yi like the plague. Why did you volunteer for this assignment?”

Yes, contrary to what Chu Lan had said, this assignment wasn’t forced upon Deng Yi; he had actively requested it.

Deng Yi picked up the tea on the table, slowly turning it in his hands, narrowing his eyes: “You don’t understand.”

Chu Yi wasn’t just trouble; on the contrary, there was a sweet prize hidden with him.

Just by taking this assignment, he had obtained a carriage of gold, silver, and jewels from the Prince of Zhongshan.

……

……

Chu Zhao slept deeply in the prison cell and opened her eyes when the daylight was already bright.

The cell arranged by the jailer was indeed not bad; even from this semi-underground space, one could see light.

A-Le was examining the food that had been sent, happily telling Chu Zhao: “The prison food is quite good.”

Chu Zhao laughed. No prison was good—it was just that their prison food was decent, after all, they were under the jailer’s care and weren’t imprisoned.

The female prison guard had also sent water and a wooden basin. A-Le helped Chu Zhao wash up before they sat down to eat.

“But, Young Lady,” A-Le was somewhat concerned, “are we really in prison?”

Although she had followed Chu Zhao when she ran away in the middle of the night, and the young lady had done many strange things and walked through the wilderness with a group of strangers, she hadn’t been afraid at all. Instead, it was upon returning to the capital that her heart was constantly anxious, as the master’s family showed no concern for the young lady and was completely unreliable.

Young Lady Liang’s father held a high position. What would happen to the young lady with no one to rely on in the capital?

“You’re overthinking,” Chu Zhao said. “Didn’t Uncle Zhong say? My father will handle it. I won’t be imprisoned.”

A-Le slapped her forehead: “I forgot about the General! Stupid, stupid! With the General there, and the General saying everything would be fine, what am I worried about?” With that, she picked up her bowl and began eating large mouthfuls.

Chu Zhao smiled, holding her bowl and eating slowly. Yes, with her father there, she had nothing to worry about. Even after her father was gone, he had protected her for many years.

Only when the people her father had left behind were exhausted did Xiao Xun dare to kill her.

And it wasn’t just her father—

“A-Le,” she asked, holding her chopsticks, “have you heard about my mother?”

A-Le made a sound of surprise: “Young Lady, don’t be sad. Not everyone has a mother. My mother also died after giving birth to me.”

She thought the young lady was missing her mother.

Chu Zhao wanted to laugh, yet felt it wasn’t funny, and asked: “I mean, who was she?”

Nothing special, A-Le put down her bowl and chopsticks. The story of Chu Zhao’s mother wasn’t a secret; everyone knew it.

The General had coincidentally met a beautiful village girl, they fell in love, and the village girl willingly came to serve the General. The General had intended to bring her back home to meet his elders and marry her, but because of his busy military duties, he couldn’t return. During this delay, before they could get married, the village girl became pregnant, suffered difficult labor, gave birth to Chu Zhao, and then passed away. The General, deeply in love, never married again.

Chu Zhao naturally knew this story; her father had told it to her since she was small. Of course, after returning to the capital, what she heard at her uncle’s home was somewhat different. For example, it wasn’t mutual love, but rather the village girl had seduced the General, vainly attempting to climb the social ladder, not hesitating to form an improper union without matchmakers.

Her aunt often sighed and admonished her: “Ah Zhao, as a woman, you must be cautious in your words and actions. You cannot debase yourself, or there will be no good outcome.” “Only those of equal social status can last long.” “Shamelessness brings disaster to the family for three generations.”

Combined with the pointing and private mockery from the young ladies of the capital, the story that had seemed so beautiful when her father told it had become shameful. She no longer wanted to mention her mother, wishing she had never existed.

When she became Empress, she was even more wary of her origins, forbidding anyone to mention her mother.

Before her death, Concubine Liang had come to flaunt her victory, and when explaining why His Majesty had married her, not only mentioned her father but also her mother.

“By marrying you, your mother could also be of use to His Majesty.”

This implied that her mother was still alive; otherwise, how could a dead person be of use to Xiao Xun?

At that time, she had already been poisoned and was waiting to die, but upon hearing these words, she had crawled up to grab Concubine Liang, wanting to ask what was going on. Concubine Liang had been frightened away, and because of this, she had stubbornly clung to life, refusing to die, until she was strangled to death by a young eunuch.

She thought she would never know the truth, but unexpectedly, she had a chance to start over.

Her father had been concealing the truth all along. In the letter she had sent with Deputy Commander Zhong, she had asked directly, though she didn’t know if her father would give her an answer.

Footsteps interrupted the conversation between mistress and servant in the quiet prison cell.

The female prison guard walked over with a smile: “Young Lady Chu, you can go now.”

Chu Zhao didn’t rise with joy, but asked: “Has my case been resolved?”

The female guard smiled: “What case? The head of the Imperial Guard has already severely reprimanded Deputy Commander Deng, saying he was supposed to find you, not arrest you. How could he put you, Young Lady, in prison?”

Deng Yi had indeed been scolded, which is why she had said earlier that Deng Yi’s bringing her to prison had caused him to bear responsibility. Chu Zhao still sat motionless, made a sound of acknowledgment, and then asked: “Then what does the Court of Judicial Review say? Wasn’t it said that they had entrusted Lord Deng—”

“The Court of Judicial Review said it wasn’t a case either,” the female guard explained with a smile. “It was your uncle who reported you missing. Now that you’ve returned, the case is closed.”

The female guard found it strange that this girl didn’t seem to want to leave at all, still sitting there asking questions. This wasn’t a pleasant place—couldn’t she ask these questions after leaving?

Chu Zhao understood. Uncle Zhong had conveyed her father’s message that this matter was resolved, and indeed it had been resolved before she returned. She wondered how her father had resolved it.

Her father was not as mediocre and content with a humble existence as she had thought.

Chu Zhao said no more, but still didn’t rise to leave. Instead, she finished the food in her bowl before standing up.

Chu Zhao and A-Le, carrying their bundles, walked out of the Imperial Guard Office. Deng Yi didn’t appear again, and no one from her uncle’s family came to meet them.

“Young Lady, how will we get back?” A-Le asked.

Chu Zhao pulled a vermilion hairpin from her hair, turning it in her hand. This too was stolen from her aunt when they left home. Throughout their journey, between expenses and gifts, only this one remained.

“Take it,” she said. “Rent two good horses. We’re going home.”