The wind and snow that had ceased during the night began falling again in flurries when dawn broke the next day.

Inside a cell deep within the Ministry of Justice’s prison, a basin of charcoal fire crackled and burned, its fierce flames reflecting off the brick walls, turning them bright red.

This had been carried in last night on orders from the director of the Imperial Medical Academy to prevent Su Jin from catching cold and falling ill. They even used the finest silver charcoal, which produced very little smoke. Unfortunately, it was of little use—the prison’s bone-chilling cold had accumulated over years and months. A single basin of charcoal was merely a drop in the bucket.

Wrapped in bedding, Su Jin didn’t know when she had fallen asleep.

In her daze, she saw again that figure standing on the Eastern Corridor Platform, draped in an ink-black cloak.

He walked toward her through the snow, step by step. Suddenly a gust of wind came, lifting his hood.

Lake-like mountains and waters in his eyes, both pupils brilliant as stars.

Clearly—clearly it was him.

Zhu Nanxian looked at Su Jin in silence, then smiled at her and called, “Ayu.”

When he smiled like this, it seemed as if vast swathes of spring light scattered freely—utterly carefree and dashing.

Su Jin wanted to respond to him, but feared this was a dream—that once she spoke, he would disappear.

So she could only nod gently, cautiously treading through the snow.

The wind around them grew stronger, swirling, howling, sweeping up the dazzling sunlight before her eyes, so intensely bright it seemed ready to transform into a sea of fire.

Snow particles shattered beneath her feet, each sound shockingly piercing.

When Su Jin looked up again, Zhu Nanxian’s figure had melted into the sea of flames, dispersing bit by bit, becoming dust that could never again be embraced.

The Ministry of Justice’s prison saw no light. After waking, she didn’t know what hour it was.

She must have caught a chill—her entire body burned hot as fire. In her confusion, she only remembered the head jailer coming to deliver meals twice, calling to her each time, but she didn’t want to respond.

After an unknown period, the iron lock on the cell door clicked softly again. This time more than one person came—likely the head jailer, seeing she only slept without waking, had gone to the Ministry of Justice to fetch Administrator Yu, who also brought a medical director.

“Lord Su, you’ve slept for a full day and night. Please wake and take some food.”

After a moment, Administrator Yu’s voice came from across the square table.

Su Jin still didn’t respond.

When she didn’t respond, they had no recourse. Orders from above had already been given—except for the director of the Imperial Medical Academy, no one was permitted to attend personally to Lord Su. As it happened, today a shocking incident had occurred in the palace. Forget the academy director—even officials from various ministries and bureaus couldn’t break away.

Administrator Yu and the medical director had no choice. Fearing Su Jin might have instructions upon waking and not daring to go far, they could only first remove the meals and medicinal soup from the food box one by one, planning to call Lord Su again later.

When people quieted down, their hearts floated with heavy matters.

Especially on this wind and snow night when heaven and earth had turned upside down—without giving voice to it, one could nearly fall sick from the oppression.

Administrator Yu turned to glance at Su Jin. Seeing she seemed to be sleeping soundly, he lowered his voice. “Director Lin, you just came from Minghua Palace. Is it… truly burned that severely?”

Hearing these words, the Lin-surnamed medical director drew a heavy breath. “I heard the fire was started by lamp oil from an eternal lamp and couldn’t be extinguished. At the hour of the Tiger, wind rose. The fire borrowed the wind’s momentum, the wind aided the fire’s might—in one sweep, the entire inner and outer Minghua Palace burned to nothing. If His Majesty hadn’t given orders during the night, saying he couldn’t sleep and commanding all maids and guards stationed outside the inner palace to withdraw, who knows how many would have died. Even so, the guards Lord Liu ordered to go rescue the Emperor earlier… ah, this medicinal soup is hot—careful not to spill it.”

Director Lin’s words stopped halfway as he took the medicine bowl from Administrator Yu’s hands and set it gently on the table.

The medicine had just been decooked. Taking it from the food box, swirling medicinal vapors washed over their faces. With their backs to the sleeping platform, neither noticed that after hearing their words, Su Jin’s eyes suddenly flew open.

Administrator Yu asked again, “So our Emperor has truly… passed like this?”

“Indeed.” Director Lin said, “Speaking of it truly breaks the heart. His Majesty fought for two years guarding the northwest, finally returned victorious—though injured and ill, at least he never stopped taking medicine. During his illness, first fearing he’d delay state affairs, second mindful that he had no heir, he actually wrote the succession edict first. But having written it didn’t mean it would be used immediately. Who could have anticipated this fire…”

He paused here, suddenly lowering his voice even further. “When Minghua Palace caught fire, I arrived early, but Lord Liu was already there. I heard from a young fire-fighter inside that Lord Liu arrived with people just as the fire was beginning to start—not yet fully ablaze—saying he wanted to inquire about the lamp oil in His Majesty’s palace. Thus some are secretly speculating that if this fire wasn’t set by the Jinan Emperor himself, it was probably Lord Liu…”

“Director Lin, watch your words!” Before Director Lin could finish, Administrator Yu hastily interrupted. “The Fourth Prince is a simpleton. His Majesty’s edict specifically designated Lord Liu as regent. Idle gossip about the Regent—how can you and I casually… Lord Su? Lord Su, you—you’re awake?”

As Administrator Yu warned Director Lin, he glanced around cautiously. Turning his head, he saw Su Jin already sitting up from the sleeping platform.

The cell was dim, and the candlelight was mostly blocked by the two of them. The sleeping platform was shrouded in shadow. Even so, one could still discern that Su Jin’s entire person was trembling slightly.

Administrator Yu and Director Lin exchanged glances. Holding up a candlestick, they moved a bit closer. “Lord Su, you—when did you wake?”

Su Jin lowered her eyes, slowly drawing her trembling fingertips into her sleeves, and answered, “Just now. I feel… cold.”

She indeed seemed to have caught a chill—even her voice was strained and hoarse.

Yesterday, the director of the Imperial Medical Academy had given instructions that although Lord Su was confined in prison, after all she was no ordinary criminal. Being frail, she required careful attendance—she mustn’t be allowed to catch cold and fall ill.

Administrator Yu quickly said, “This official will immediately instruct the jailers to add two more basins of charcoal fire and prepare fur cloaks and thick bedding.”

After he left, Director Lin examined Su Jin’s complexion more carefully. He saw only that her cheeks were terribly pale, the corners of her lips tinged blue—not only lacking color but her eyes had also lost their spirit.

“Lord Su, you haven’t eaten all day. You’ve likely caught a cold as well. First take this medicinal soup, then this official will examine your pulse.”

“Alright.” After a long while, Su Jin finally responded woodenly.

Getting down from the platform, her feet touched the ground and trembled slightly—she nearly couldn’t stand steady. Fortunately, because her hands and feet had frostbite, the shackles had already been removed.

She slowly walked to the table and glanced at the wide-open cell door—Administrator Yu had left in such haste earlier that he hadn’t locked it.

She reached out to take the medicinal soup. Disregarding the heat, she tilted her head back and drank it all in one gulp, then said, “I don’t like the taste of medicine. I want tea to clear my palate.” She added another sentence: “Hot tea.”

The tea on the cell table had long gone cold.

“Yes, this official will immediately have someone bring a pot of hot tea.”

Director Lin had just walked to the cell door when Su Jin suddenly followed in two or three steps. Using all her strength, she shoved him to one side. Taking advantage of his fall, she rushed out of the cell.

The Ministry of Justice prison’s corridor was deep and long. At intervals, jailers stood guard. Su Jin simply kept her head down and walked rapidly forward. Whenever anyone dared reach out to stop her, she swept them aside with her arm and barked fiercely, “Move!”

There was nothing they could do. When she was brought in, explicit orders had been given not to harm her in the slightest. Moreover, she was originally the Minister of Justice, a cabinet minister second only to one—everyone in the palace knew her. At least within the Ministry of Justice, no one dared stop her with deadly force.

Soon she left the prison, left the Six Ministries.

It turned out the outside world wasn’t much brighter than inside the prison. Night had already fallen, the deep palace a sheet of vast falling snow.

That a prisoner had run from the Ministry of Justice prison—the Six Ministries weren’t without people who saw it. But even seeing it, they only dared follow, instead stirring up a commotion.

Piercing wind poured into her ears like a blade cutting toward her face. Su Jin trampled through snow, stumbling and staggering as she ran toward Minghua Palace.

Her heart was hollow, a wasteland. She dared not think of anything, nor could she.

In her deep pain, she only felt regret—regretting that yesterday she had given up so easily, that she hadn’t at least determined clearly whether that figure in the black robe was him or not.

The commotion from the Six Ministries caused lamp after lamp to light up on the Fengtian Gate tower.

In moments, several Imperial Guards filed out from Fengtian Gate.

Even though Su Jin was the as-yet-unimpeached Minister of Justice, she wore prisoner’s clothing and carried charges. Without a summons, she had no right to enter Fengtian Gate.

The people from the Six Ministries dared not interfere. The Imperial Guards, bearing heavy responsibility, could not ignore this.

Just then, a figure wearing an ink-velvet cloak, cold and austere beyond measure, also appeared at Fengtian Gate.

The chaotic vast courtyard fell silent for an instant upon seeing Liu Chaoming. Everyone showed reverence, as if he were the supreme master of this deep palace.

Except for Su Jin, who had lost her mind and gone mad, desperately rushing only toward Minghua Palace.

In the night, someone called out, “The Regent has arrived! Quickly stop Lord Su!”

Two nearby Imperial Guards raised their spears, using the shafts as staffs, striking toward the bend of Su Jin’s legs.

Her legs already had frostbite and were soaked in icy snow. Being struck like this, her whole person fell like drifting withered leaves, collapsing into the snow.

Heaven and earth held only the sound of wind and snow.

Even Liu Chaoming was momentarily stunned.

But the next moment, he saw that slender figure suddenly brace against the snow and slowly climb up. She gritted her teeth, her eyes vacant yet determined, swaying as she stood again, still stumbling toward Minghua Palace.

Seeing they couldn’t stop her, the two Imperial Guards immediately raised their spears to strike another blow.

Liu Chaoming’s heart shook. “Go stop them.”

The guard nearby immediately responded, “Yes!”

But it was already too late to prevent this strike.

Su Jin fell once more. Blood seeped from her legs, flowing onto the pristine white snow—a shocking sight.

The light in Liu Chaoming’s eyes extinguished, then brightened again—but it was a deep, deep ink that even moonlight couldn’t penetrate.

After a moment, he lifted his feet and slowly walked toward Su Jin.

Only then did he discover she actually hadn’t fainted—she simply couldn’t stand up anymore. She was still using her hands to claw at the snow, trying to move forward inch by inch.

Seeming to sense someone had come, her lips opened and closed, speaking intermittently as if saying something.

The sound of wind and snow was truly noisy.

Liu Chaoming listened carefully before making out that she kept repeating just one sentence, with a pleading tone: “I beg you, let me see him, let me see him…”

Following nearby was Luo Songtang from the Ministry of Rites. Having been immersed in court for decades, when had he ever seen the proud-spirited Minister Su bow and bend so humbly?

Unable to bear it, he crouched down and softly consoled her. “Shiyu, accept your grief. His Majesty has… already passed.”

For an instant, Su Jin seemed frozen in place, not moving at all.

After a moment, she raised her head vacantly.

By the flickering lamplight from the gate tower, she discovered this pure white world wasn’t vast because of snow—there was also the white mourning cloth scattered across the sky after the Emperor’s death for state mourning.

The night wind cut to the bone. Her cheeks were so icy they were about to frost.

But her eye sockets were hot. Watery light blurred her vision. Tears suddenly couldn’t be stopped, rolling down drop by drop.

Her chest seemed blocked by something. Su Jin couldn’t catch her breath, could only emit one mournful cry after another.

But even such mournful cries couldn’t relieve this heart-gnawing, bone-devouring pain.

This was the second time Liu Yun saw Su Shiyu shed tears, but unlike the quiet silence of the previous time—

She lay alone in the snow, crying as if her heart would tear apart, like one who had drifted half a lifetime and finally lost her place of refuge, and so could only return to being that little girl who had fled from her old home in Shu, homeless and without family.

The wind lantern’s firelight reflected the snowflakes, blazing like flames.

Liu Chaoming half-knelt down, slowly extending his hand, wanting to help her up.

She saw nothing, only groped about, reaching into her sleeve.

A thread of scorching gleam flashed from her sleeve. Before he could discern what it was, it had already swiftly moved toward her wrist.

Su Jin’s movement raising the hairpin to stab toward her neck was extremely resolute. Although the golden hairpin was knocked away by Liu Chaoming, the sharp tip carved a deep long gash across the back of his hand.

The hairpin, mixed with the blood from her fingertips and the blood he shed, fell into the snow.