“My father is not lying.”

Xie Erli walked up to Yan Sanhe, his words utterly sincere. “Miss Yan, please believe him.”

“Why should I believe him?”

“Because our family also has a sick child.”

The atmosphere in the study was tense as drawn swords. Xie Erli made his tone as gentle as possible.

“My third brother has been sickly since birth. From childhood to now, we don’t know how much silver we’ve spent or how many famous physicians we’ve sought. They all said he wouldn’t live long.”

Yan Sanhe: “So what?”

“Putting yourself in another’s shoes—no matter how much my father hated your grandfather or the Yan family, he would never take action against a sick child.”

Xie Erli frowned. “I think there might be some misunderstanding here.”

What fine words about putting oneself in another’s shoes!

Yan Sanhe stared at him, trying hard to find even the slightest flaw on his face. “Then where is this misunderstanding?”

Xie Erli picked up the letter and quickly scanned it. “Miss, do you still remember which year they came to the capital seeking medical treatment?”

Yan Sanhe: “The eighth year of Yonghe.”

Xie Erli’s heart jumped, and he looked sharply toward Xie Daozhi. But Xie Daozhi had already blurted out, “What month? Which day did they enter the capital?”

Yan Sanhe: “I don’t know which day they entered the capital, but by the time he returned home, it was already winter.”

“Winter?”

Xie Daozhi pondered for a long moment, then suddenly turned to look at Xie Erli, his gaze pressing downward.

Yan Sanhe couldn’t read the deeper meaning in his eyes, but Xie Erli understood perfectly.

He paused before speaking. “Miss Yan, you came to the Xie residence only for this matter—is there nothing else?”

Yan Sanhe thought of her purpose for this trip and had no choice but to be honest. “If I said there was nothing else, I’d be deceiving you. But if this matter isn’t clarified, everything else is meaningless.”

“What does that mean?” Xie Erli’s eyes instantly sharpened.

Yan Sanhe’s gaze was profound. “Give me the truth, and then we can discuss other matters.”

There are other matters…

So this isn’t simple at all!

Xie Erli looked at Xie Daozhi, using his eyes to ask what the next step should be.

Xie Daozhi remained silent for a long time.

Regardless of this woman’s purpose, these three deaths absolutely could not be falsely attributed to him. They had to be investigated thoroughly.

“Eldest, go immediately to both the Five City Military Commissioner’s Office and the Embroidered Uniform Guard’s prisons.”

“I’ll go right now.”

“Steward Xie.”

Steward Xie pushed open the door. “Master.”

Xie Daozhi: “Summon all the gate guards for me.”

“Yes!”

“Yan Sanhe.”

Xie Daozhi’s voice was heavy. “You demand justice from me—I’ll give you justice. But if I didn’t do this, then what?”

Yan Sanhe tilted her chin slightly upward, her neck forming a proud arc. “If you didn’t do it, I will kneel and kowtow to you in apology.”

“Good!”

Xie Daozhi shouted loudly.

…

“Master, all the people from the manor’s four gates are here.”

Xie Daozhi’s gaze turned stern, and everyone trembled as they lowered their heads.

For all manor affairs, large and small, inside there was the First Madam and the steward, and outside everything was handled by the Young Master. The master never interfered or inquired.

Today the master was personally conducting questioning, and had summoned them to the study courtyard…

Something major must have happened!

“The back gate and side gate people don’t need to be questioned. For their first visit with a letter, they wouldn’t have used those two gates.”

Xie Daozhi glanced at Yan Sanhe with slight surprise. “Those from the side gate and back gate may withdraw.”

Among the servants, some showed great relief and quickly withdrew. The seven or eight who remained felt their hearts drumming like mad.

“In the summer of the eighth year of Yonghe, did any of you see…”

Halfway through, Xie Daozhi found he couldn’t continue.

The Xie manor had dozens of visitors a day. Forget nine years ago—it would be difficult to remember even a few people who had come a month ago.

“Xie Daozhi, let me borrow your desk.”

Without waiting for his response, Yan Sanhe turned and walked into the study.

Steward Xie’s scalp prickled as he quickly followed. “Master’s desk contains important items, you…”

“Grind the ink!”

“…”

Steward Xie: I’ll endure it!

Once the ink was ground, Yan Sanhe lifted the brush in one hand to dip it in ink, taking up a sheet of rice paper from the desk with the other…

In just a short time, the portrait of a middle-aged man appeared vividly on the paper.

Xie Daozhi took the portrait and was shocked, instinctively biting down hard on his back teeth.

Ink and brush painting, flowing like clouds and water across fine paper—this was clearly taught stroke by stroke by Yan Hang himself.

“Why only one? What about your brother?”

Yan Sanhe’s gaze flickered slightly. “He’s been dead for nine years. I’ve long forgotten what he looked like.”