When Ming Tan and Liang Zixuan first fell into the river, their experiences were identical. The icy water pierced their bones, almost unbearable. After choking and coughing for a while, Ming Tan finally realized what had happened—someone had pushed her into the water!
In grand households, “accidents” due to forced marriages were countless. The most common involved sharing a room while changing clothes or skin contact during water rescues.
From childhood, Lady Pei had taught Ming Tan how to guard against such schemes. She even hired a female teacher to instruct her in swimming during their summer retreat.
Since Ming Tan rarely needed these skills and was accustomed to a pampered lifestyle, no one knew she could swim. Unfortunately, before she could reveal this, Liang Zixuan had already stripped off his outer garments and jumped in after her.
In her haste, Ming Tan dove underwater, intending to swim around Liang Zixuan and resurface on the other side of the dock. Despite her quick thinking, the frigid water and her lack of physical conditioning soon caused a sudden, painful cramp in her lower body.
The throbbing pain, combined with the bone-chilling water, felt like needles stabbing her. Her vision blurred to white, and she could no longer swim forward.
At that moment, many thoughts flashed through Ming Tan’s mind. She wavered between letting Liang Zixuan rescue her to preserve her reputation and calling for help to avoid an unsightly demise.
Just as she decided to surface and call for help, a black sash suddenly plunged into the water. It swiftly wrapped around her waist, tightened, and pulled her to the shore, depositing her in a secluded patch of reeds some distance from the dock.
The force behind the sash was quick and efficient, showing no regard for her delicate nature. Dizzy from the abrupt movement, Ming Tan only caught a glimpse of the sash’s end as it withdrew from her waist.
Drawing on her years of privileged experience, she judged the sash to be of extraordinary quality. Its intricate dark patterns seemed to be woven with fine Xuan gold thread, glimmering faintly even in the dim light.
Before she could see who wielded the sash, an outer robe fell over her, obscuring her vision.
…
“Then what happened?” Bai Minmin eagerly asked.
“Someone carried me back,” Ming Tan replied, leaning against the bed. She pushed away the spicy ginger soup and accepted a hand warmer from her maid. “I asked several times who they were and where they were taking me, but they remained silent. They left me at the rear gate of the Marquis’s mansion and disappeared with the outer robe.”
“They? More than one person?”
“The one who rescued me and the one who brought me back were different people. The fabric of their clothes was very different, and the person who brought me back seemed to be following orders, like… a subordinate or guard.”
Bai Minmin pondered this information, still confused. “Wait, so you never mentioned you were from the Jing’an Marquis’s household, yet they accurately delivered you there?”
“Yes, that’s what I find strange,” Ming Tan said, sitting up slightly against her pillows. “If they had ulterior motives, I’ve checked thoroughly and haven’t lost any personal items.”
Those with ill intentions would typically take something as proof. Since nothing was taken, “That is indeed peculiar,” Bai Minmin mused, frowning.
“Let’s set that aside for now,” Ming Tan said, remembering a more pressing matter. “What’s the situation with Liang Zixuan?”
“What situation could there be? You sent Suxin over, so of course I played along. I had my attendants ‘rescue’ him after he ‘fell into the water’ as I was passing by. Don’t worry, I’ve already had him sent back to the Ling Guo Gong mansion.”
Hearing this, Ming Tan finally felt relieved. Since the public narrative was that Liang Zixuan fell into the water, that would have to remain the official story, regardless of what happened afterward.
After all, on the surface, the marriage alliance between their two families was still strong. An incident involving Ling Guo Gong’s future daughter-in-law wouldn’t reflect well on their household either. Unless they wanted to openly antagonize the Jing’an Marquis’s family, they would have to accept this version of events.
Thinking back, Ming Tan felt something was amiss about the incident. The commotion about catching a thief had led to people rushing by, but rather than being bumped, she felt more like she had been deliberately pushed.
With this in mind, she said, “Minmin, when you go back, please have someone investigate the two people who bumped into me today.”
“You suspect the fall wasn’t an accident?”
“I’m not sure, that’s why I want to investigate thoroughly.”
Bai Minmin nodded, readily agreeing. Noticing Ming Tan’s still pale face, she tucked the blanket around her friend and took the ginger soup from the maid. “Don’t worry about these things now. Come on, drink this ginger soup.”
The strong taste made Ming Tan reluctant.
Bai Minmin, equally stubborn, persisted in trying to feed her, chattering away: “Drink it, drink it. If not for yourself, think of me. If you don’t drink this and catch a cold, ending up bedridden, it’ll be all my fault. You know my father’s temper—do you want to see me punished by kneeling in the ancestral hall? If I end up with lasting damage and can’t get married, I might have to…”
Ming Tan, her head aching from the chatter, finally took the porcelain bowl and gulped down the soup in one go, eyes closed.
Bai Minmin looked satisfied. Noticing that the incense timer had burned down considerably, she stood up and dusted off her hands. “Well then, you get some rest. It’s getting late, so I’ll head back now. Suxin, Lüe, take good care of your young mistress.”
Suxin and Lüe responded in unison, respectfully seeing Bai Minmin out of Zhaoshui Courtyard.
After all the commotion, Ming Tan’s body couldn’t take much more, and she truly needed rest. She skipped her usual elaborate bedtime routine, only applying some honeydew to her face and soaking her hands briefly in fresh sheep’s milk.
Midnight brought a light rain, thick clouds obscuring the full moon. Ming Tan slept soundly under her brocade quilt, and the entire Jing’an Marquis’s mansion was shrouded in the quiet dimness of the slanting rain.
In the dungeons of the Ministry of Justice, the underground prison stretched dark and vast. Oil lamps placed every ten steps did little to dispel the gloomy chill.
A judicial official led the way, bowing as he guided them. “Your Highness, Second Young Master Shu, this way please.”
Shu Jingran, accustomed to refinement and elegance, found his first visit to the prison deeply unsettling. The oppressive and putrid atmosphere revolted him. Glancing at Jiang Xu, he marveled at how the man could walk with such detached indifference, hands clasped behind his back. Shu Jingran surmised that the horrors of the battlefield must have been a hundred times worse. Sighing, he hurriedly covered his nose and followed.
In the interrogation chamber, torture instruments hanging on the walls gleamed with an eerie light. The prisoner, already bound to the rack by jailers, looked disheveled but unharmed—the torture had not yet begun.
The judicial official pulled out a round-backed chair for Jiang Xu, respectfully inviting him to sit.
Jiang Xu didn’t hesitate. He lifted the hem of his robe and sat down directly, his fingertips lightly tapping the armrest as he gazed expressionlessly at the shadowy rack.
“Y-Your Highness,” the man on the rack stammered, recognizing the newcomer. Fear flooded his face. “Why… why has Your Highness brought me here? I’m innocent!”
“Innocent,” Jiang Xu repeated, turning his head to look directly at the man. “You might as well wait a bit longer until the Cheng’en Marquis is also imprisoned. Then you can cry your innocence to him together.”
The Cheng’en Marquis!
The blood in the man’s veins seemed to freeze instantly.
In truth, he had harbored suspicions from the moment he was inexplicably arrested on his way home, with no explanation given. But he had been unwilling and afraid to consider the implications. If this truly involved the Cheng’en Marquis, it spelled disaster for him.
“This humble servant has had some dealings with the Marquis, but… but…”
“Zhang Ji, I considered you a clever man. That’s why you’re still in one piece. Are you sure you want to play games with me?” Jiang Xu stood and walked closer, tilting his head to look at Zhang Ji.
Perhaps it was the dungeon setting, but the faint aura of violence and killing that surrounded Jiang Xu seemed to expand, bringing with it an overwhelming sense of pressure. Though his voice wasn’t raised, it chilled Zhang Ji to the bone.
Zhang Ji opened and closed his mouth, momentarily rendered speechless by the pressure.
He knew this was the beginning of a reckoning and understood Jiang Xu’s purpose in coming. A deathly silence spread through the dungeon, mingling with the foul, putrid air.
After a long while, Zhang Ji hesitantly moved his lips, still hoping to bargain for himself: “I do have some things that might be useful to Your Highness. If Your Highness would agree to one condition, I could—Aagh!” His words were cut short by a sudden cry of pain.
Shu Jingran started, only now noticing that one of the barbed torture instruments from the wall had somehow found its way into Zhang Ji’s side, carefully avoiding vital organs. Fresh blood flowed freely, quickly staining Zhang Ji’s white clothes red and dripping onto the filthy floor.
“What makes you think you’re in any position to negotiate with me?” Jiang Xu leaned in, whispering in Zhang Ji’s ear with casual indifference.
His hand still gripped the handle, slowly twisting the barbed blade deeper into flesh and muscle.
Zhang Ji’s face drained of color, large beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Unaccustomed to such torment, he fainted within moments.
Jiang Xu straightened up, allowing the jailers to revive Zhang Ji with cold water.
By now, the brazier in the corner was blazing, its irons glowing red-hot. As soon as Zhang Ji regained consciousness, he saw a jailer approaching with the burning iron. Without pause, it was pressed against his fresh wound.
Another heart-rending scream filled the air.
The dungeon housed countless instruments of torture, but Zhang Ji had only experienced two before losing control of his bladder, adding the stench of urine to the air. Regretting his earlier refusal to cooperate, he cried out hoarsely, “Your Highness! Your Highness, I’ll talk! The Cheng’en Marquis has been illegally occupying farmland and operating private salt mines! The evidence is in the outskirts, at my private residence in Jiuli Slope! It’s buried under the apricot tree in the backyard!”
—
As the hour of Zi struck, the dungeon doors opened.
Emerging from the Ministry of Justice prison, Shu Jingran finally exhaled deeply. Perhaps due to the recent rain, he felt the capital’s air was exceptionally clean tonight.
However, recalling the scene in the dungeon—how Jiang Xu had unflinchingly driven the barbed blade into Zhang Ji’s flesh and twisted it deeper without batting an eye—Shu Jingran felt certain he would have nightmares tonight.
Then again, the Prince of Dingbei was renowned for his ruthlessness. He remembered how, upon returning blood-soaked from the battlefield, Jiang Xu had ignored the summons and refused to enter the palace, instead going straight for the head of a corrupt official who had embezzled military funds and delayed strategic operations.
The official’s wife, knowing her fate was sealed, had offered their beautiful twin daughters as servants to curry favor.
Such stunning beauty would typically move any man, and sparing two young women would have been effortless for someone of his status. Yet he remained unmoved, confiscating their property and executing the entire family as the law demanded, sparing no one.
So, “Earlier, by the river, why did you save the Ming family’s young lady and have your guards return her to the Marquis’s mansion? Showing mercy to a beauty… doesn’t seem like something you would do, Zhihi.”
He had thought Jiang Xu might have had a change of heart upon returning to the capital and developed some compassion. But after witnessing the scene in the dungeon, he realized he had been mistaken.
Recalling some gossip he had overheard at the Tingyu Tower, he smiled and added, “Could it be that you’ve fallen for that Ming family girl at first sight?”
Jiang Xu lowered his eyes, his lips curling into a faint smile as he methodically wiped the blood from his hands. He replied unhurriedly, “As expected of the renowned Second Young Master Shu. You truly are gentle and romantic.”