The windless afternoon made the Liu residence so quiet that even the dust motes floating in the autumn light dared not move recklessly.

Su Jin pushed open the study door.

The door wasn’t bolted. The furnishings inside were just like Liu Yun himself—refined, cold, composed. Nothing more, nothing less.

Su Jin moved toward the desk.

On the desk sat an inkstone mountain, a brush screen, an ink box, a lotus-leaf-shaped water dropper. The scrolls were all organized in document boxes. Under a pomegranate-branch-shaped jade paperweight lay a stack of white hemp paper, with a character written on the top sheet—apparently written casually by Liu Chaoming: the character for “ji” (salvation).

The several sandalwood bookshelves held only books. There wasn’t even a single case file from the Imperial Censorate. Aside from a half-open wooden box containing a gold hairpin, there was nothing unusual.

Su Jin felt puzzled—what was so forbidden about a study like this?

She wanted to investigate further, but thinking that An’ran would soon return with brush and paper, she had to give up. Just as she turned to leave, her gaze suddenly fixed on the eastern wall.

She saw a sword.

The blade was entirely ink-black, with dark golden lines tempered into cloud patterns.

Others might not recognize this sword, but Su Jin did.

Zhu Nanxian had once removed “Cuiwei” for her to examine closely, saying, “Look at the cloud patterns on this scabbard. At first glance, they seem ordinary, but there’s actually a secret hidden within.”

He gripped the back of the blade and raised it toward the blazing sun. As sunlight poured down, some of the cloud patterns on the scabbard dimmed while others blazed bright. The places that lit up connected into lines, forming precisely a soaring dragon.

At this very moment, the afternoon autumn light entered through the window. On the sword hanging on the eastern wall, there was also a dragon appearing and disappearing.

Such blades and swords—there were only three in the world.

Qingya, Cuiwei, Shishanying—symbols of Da Sui’s supreme imperial authority, meant to strike down all treacherous ministers under heaven and eliminate all villains in the world.

Cuiwei was a saber. Qingya had been buried with Zhu Qiyue. The one in Liu Yun’s study—

Shishanying.

A chill suddenly arose from Su Jin’s heart.

She remembered Shu Wenlan telling her that Zhu Yushen’s Shishanying had been lost long before he set out to campaign in Beiping. It was said to have fallen into a river. At the time, many soldiers were sent diving to search for it, and Zhu Jingyuan was furious, giving the Fourth Prince fifty strokes of the rod.

Zhu Yushen had set out to campaign in Beiping at age nineteen. Twelve years had passed since then.

If Shishanying went missing at that time, it meant that over a decade ago, Zhu Yushen had given Shishanying to Liu Yun as a token, willing to endure severe punishment for it. What was he plotting?

And what was Liu Yun hiding by never allowing anyone to enter his study?

An alliance spanning over a decade—it encompassed nearly half her life.

Su Jin suddenly felt that above her head, within heaven and earth’s winds and clouds, there seemed to be a giant hand manipulating the universe, and she—she might merely be a helpless ant.

She finally felt a sense of urgent peril closing in.

She no longer needed anyone to give her the strength for that final push at the cliff’s edge.

She had to return to the palace immediately. Tomorrow—no, tonight. Tonight, she would use the secret edict to make Liu Yun face justice. Not a moment could be delayed, or her own people would be the ones to die.

As this sense of urgency pressed in, Su Jin’s gaze fell on her boot tips, and she suddenly thought of a fact that made her blood run cold.

Why was she in Liu Yun’s study at this moment?

True, Qi Boyuan had come to bid farewell and told her that the Liu family jade tokens were originally a matching pair, so she had come to return the jade.

But should she have believed Qi Boyuan’s words? Or rather, should she have trusted Qi Boyuan himself?

Because he was her grandfather’s close friend, Old Imperial Censor Meng’s dear friend, she had never doubted his words or tried to fathom the intent behind each sentence.

But Su Jin finally realized that Qi Boyuan was her elder, and even more so, Liu Yun’s elder.

And Liu Yun was her political enemy. What made her so certain that Qi Boyuan wouldn’t help him?

Or was it that in her heart, she had never truly wanted to deal with Liu Yun?

She had been too careless!

Su Jin felt as if this Shishanying had transformed into weapons attacking her.

She retreated step by step, turned around, and rushed out the door.

But the instant she stepped out of the study, her entire person froze—

She saw Liu Yun.

Liu Chaoming, seeing Su Jin emerge from his study, was also momentarily stunned.

Today at late chen hour, Qi Boyuan had come to bid farewell, saying he would set out for Hangzhou Prefecture tomorrow, asking him to return to the residence to retrieve a rare edition book to pass the time on the journey.

Liu Chaoming had originally wanted to delegate this matter to An’ran, but Qi Boyuan insisted that he personally retrieve and deliver it, saying there were some family matters to discuss.

Marquis Wenyuan rarely made such pressing demands. Though Liu Chaoming was suspicious, since he was an elder, Liu Chaoming didn’t delay and ordered a horse prepared to return to the residence.

No one had answered the door at the residence. He had just found it strange, until he saw Su Shiyu. Then he understood everything at once.

Today was already the second of September.

They only had a hundred days. If they didn’t trap Su Shiyu by the tenth of September, all their efforts would come to nothing.

He couldn’t delay any longer. And today, she had emerged from his study, discovering all his secrets. In the future, she would certainly be even more cautious and guarded against him, perhaps even returning to the palace tonight to issue an edict ordering both him and Zhu Yushen to face execution.

This was his best opportunity, and also his last.

It was given to him by Qi Boyuan.

After a moment of shock, Liu Chaoming’s gaze slowly turned cold.

This cold intent pierced straight into Su Jin’s heart, making her internal organs tremble slightly.

She forcibly suppressed her alarm and, without a word, moved around Liu Chaoming, walking quickly toward the residence exit.

Just as her figure passed by him, her elbow was seized. She struggled several times, but his strength was too great—she couldn’t break free.

Su Jin turned her head, looked into Liu Chaoming’s eyes, and said word by word, “Let me go.”

Liu Chaoming also looked into her eyes, his gaze ice-cold, his tone equally frigid. “Since you’ve come, don’t think about leaving.”

“M-My Lord?”

To the side, An’ran returned with brush and paper. Seeing this scene, he called out in stunned confusion.

A’Liu had come with him. Seeing the study door standing wide open, his knees went weak and he immediately knelt on the ground.

Su Jin took advantage of Liu Chaoming’s glance toward An’ran to suddenly exert force, breaking free from his restraint, and turned to run.

But before she had taken two steps, her wrist was grabbed again.

Liu Chaoming yanked her back into his embrace. No matter how desperately she struggled, he held her tightly, coldly ordering An’ran beside him, “Find rope.”

An’ran hesitated, then gritted his teeth and turned to go.

A’Liu stared blankly at Su Jin still struggling in Liu Chaoming’s arms.

A crimson flush rose on her pale cheeks. Her eyes were filled with blood vessels. The hand gripping Liu Yun’s collar showed veins standing out on its back—clearly using all her strength.

She kept saying, “Let me go, let me go—” Her slightly trembling lips finally betrayed a hint of fear.

But what would Lord Su be afraid of?

A’Liu couldn’t understand.

He had accompanied her on inspection tours. In his impression, Su Jin shouldn’t fear anything—not even death.

Su Jin’s heart was ice-cold, so cold it formed frost, became snow. She didn’t fear death. She didn’t fear defeat either. But she feared the consequences after defeat.

If she were defeated, what would happen to those who followed her?

What would happen to those close to her?

What would happen to Qingyue?

What would happen to Zhu Nanxian?

An’ran finally found rope, but not the rough hemp rope that would injure skin—instead, silk cloth cut into strips. Liu Chaoming took it, his brow furrowing, but he said nothing more. In moments, he had Su Jin bound. He lifted her horizontally at the waist and locked her in his study.

As the study door was about to close, the autumn light pouring in retreated inch by inch as the door shut. Su Jin, bound to the official’s armchair, opened her bloodshot eyes wide. Watching the light about to fade, she suddenly mustered all her strength and threw herself toward the door.

The armchair made of redwood was too heavy. Losing her balance completely, she fell to the ground along with the chair.

The thunderous crash of Su Jin’s fall made Liu Chaoming’s heart tremble.

He stood with his back against the door. Though his face remained calm, beads of sweat had already seeped out at his temples.

But he didn’t allow himself to open the door and look.

In Liu Yun’s life, there was no “want” or “don’t want”—only “should” and “shouldn’t.”

From inside the study came another long, drawn-out sound—the sound of wood scraping against the floor. It was Su Jin, dragging the armchair bound to her, inching toward the door.

She saw Liu Yun’s silhouette pressed against the door. She knew he hadn’t left yet.

“How will you treat him?” she asked.

The hoarse voice, carrying a trace of frost, came through the door. Like aged wood stained with the scent of decay, Liu Chaoming actually heard a trace of mournful pleading in it.

He finally couldn’t maintain his composure. He began to breathe slowly, heavily, as if the exhaustion from that earlier struggle had finally caught up to him, beginning to spread through his limbs and bones, ready to drain his strength thread by thread.

“How will you all treat him?” Su Jin asked again, her voice even more anguished than before.

Her jade-like eyes misted over, and her lips trembled slightly.

Liu Chaoming wanted to speak but didn’t know what to say.

The instant he opened his mouth, his fingertips pressed against the door trembled inexplicably. He suddenly realized that Su Jin had just asked about “you all,” not “you.”

Yes—she knew he was her political enemy and wouldn’t be lenient with her, so she didn’t plead for herself.

She knew he and Zhu Yushen were allies who would ultimately seek to usurp the throne, so she didn’t ask “you” but “you all.”

She also knew that being imprisoned like this, she would definitely be used. Her question “How will you all treat him?” when he let his guard down wasn’t entirely out of despair, out of defeat and resignation, merely seeking an outcome.

She was trying to deduce from his few words how they would use her, so she could plan her response accordingly.

Truly Su Shiyu—even at this point, still scheming.

The mist in his eyes instantly dispersed. His cold eyes became like black obsidian, deep as an ancient well.

Liu Chaoming glanced at An’ran and gave a terse order: “Lock it.”

An’ran acknowledged and stepped forward to lock the study properly. But he didn’t leave. Instead, he retreated to the courtyard and knelt side by side with A’Liu, kowtowing together to Liu Chaoming.

Liu Chaoming knew what the two of them meant.

They were begging him to spare Su Shiyu’s life.

Liu Chaoming didn’t respond to their request. He only said, “Give her whatever she wants. But if she asks about court matters, don’t mention a single word. If anything happens to her, everyone in the entire residence will be buried with her.”