Although Prince Lan lived a reclusive and detached life, he was, after all, a true-blooded son of the dragon and grandson of the phoenix — when had he ever suffered such humiliation? At that moment, a raging fire blazed in his chest, and he wished he could grind Cui Shi and Zeng Nanqin to dust and scatter their ashes to the wind.

His eyes burned red as he stared at Cui Shi, unable to comprehend how this wife of his could have been so audacious and reckless.

He recalled the first time she had appeared before him — it was at Guangjun Wang’s evening banquet. She had been no more than fifteen or sixteen at the time, striking in appearance and lively in manner, drawing his attention with what seemed like deliberate carelessness. He had assumed she was simply some ignorant young woman from an unremarkable family and had not given her a second thought. But before long, at the banquet held for the Youzhou Prefect’s visit to Chang’an to report his duties, he encountered Cui Shi once again. Having grown stifled by the atmosphere at the table, he had gone to take the air by the lakeside, and in the darkness, this woman had “accidentally” stumbled into him.

He had seen right through it. Though he found her methods naive and clumsy, there was a tenacious, unyielding spirit within her that, rather than repelling him, actually sparked a measure of interest.

At the time, it was the first year after Wei Jin’s mother had passed. Prince Lan’s household had been left with only himself and Wei Jin, as desolate and still as stagnant water. Cui Shi’s appearance was like a wildflower blooming in an open plain, bringing a splash of vivid color to his barren and cold existence.

Not long after, he had his Imperial Brother arrange a betrothal on his behalf and sent someone to the Cui household in Youzhou with a betrothal letter. Besides, his Imperial Brother’s longstanding suspicions had never fully faded — the lower-born his bride, the more at ease his Imperial Brother could rest.

After two years of living together, to say he felt absolutely nothing for this little wife of his would be a lie. He had to admit that in the years prior, on account of Wei Jin’s mother and her illness, he had deliberately restrained himself, never allowing himself to act freely. After Cui Shi entered the household, she was healthy, radiant, and clearly of a different temperament than Wei Jin’s mother — the novelty had led him to indulge himself nearly every night, and before long, Cui Shi bore him his second son, Min Lang.

After that, she attended to every aspect of his daily life with meticulous care, allowing him to devote all his attention to the study of music and poetry. He spent his days unbothered by worldly affairs, his idle hours occupied with little more than playing with Min Lang. He had thought things would continue in this peaceful, uneventful manner — but who could have anticipated—

He fixed her with a fierce glare, his voice hoarse with fury as he snarled: “You shameless wretch — how dare you!”

Not only had she abandoned all propriety, she had even dared to hire killers. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. He abruptly raised his foot, intending to kick Cui Shi to the ground — but the moment he moved, a rush of blood surged to his head, his vision blurred, and his body nearly swayed and toppled.

Jiang Sanlang gave a start and quickly reached out to steady him. Seeing Prince Lan’s ashen complexion, he wanted to say a few words of comfort, but given how unbearable the scene was, he did not know where to begin.

He could only silently curse Lin Xiao — that man was far too cunning. Fearing that his father would lose face, he had simply absented himself from start to finish, leaving Jiang Sanlang to play the villain. After all this, whenever Prince Lan laid eyes on him in the future, he would surely be reminded of today, and no matter how he tried, he would never feel at ease.

Jiang Sanlang inwardly sighed. Even if that was the case, what could be done? His connection to Prince Lan was no more than that of a relative by marriage, whereas Lin Xiao was Prince Lan’s eldest son. Compared to the rift that might form between Lin Xiao and his father, a little of his uncle’s displeasure toward himself was nothing.

The dizziness before Prince Lan’s eyes had eased somewhat by now. He opened his eyes, his face ashen, and regarded Cui Shi with cold fury: “To think I lost my head back then and actually brought someone like you into this household!”

By the time Prince Lan and the others had appeared, Cui Shi’s spirit had already been utterly extinguished. Hearing Prince Lan’s words, a reckless, nothing-left-to-lose resignation welled up within her. She gave a bleak smile and offered no defense, only thinking inwardly: If it weren’t for the fact that the young heir had been in mourning for his mother that year and could not marry for three years, I would never have set my sights on you.

She was already two years older than Lin Xiao to begin with. Because Zeng Nanqin had gone off on a military campaign, her marriage had been delayed, and she had remained unmarried until she was sixteen.

From the very beginning, she had known that Lin Xiao was Prince Lan’s only legitimate son, and that in due course, his bride would be chosen from among the daughters of distinguished noble families. Even if she could endure three years of waiting, she could never become his wife.

This knowledge had not deterred her. She had even entertained the thought that if Lin Xiao would only give her even the slightest encouragement, she would swallow her pride and offer herself as his concubine — but he had never once looked at her with any extra attention.

Day after day, she had tormented herself, until gradually an obsession had taken root within her. Perhaps a young man of fourteen did not yet understand the nature of love. Just because he did not fancy her now did not mean he would never look at her differently in the future. Even if, one day, he treated her just the tiniest bit differently from everyone else, all the anguish she had endured for his sake would have been worth it.

Clinging to this hope, when it came to choosing between marrying Zeng Nanqin and entering Prince Lan’s household, she had decisively chosen the latter path. Her elder brother at the time was straining with every ounce of his strength to climb the social ladder, and when he saw that his younger sister was intent on attaching herself to Prince Lan’s household, he was naturally delighted to play the part of a facilitator, eagerly working to push things along.

In the end, she had at last married into Prince Lan’s household as she had wished. The first time Lin Xiao came to pay his respects to his father, she had forgotten to conceal herself and had looked at him with an almost ravenous hunger. Had Nanny Li not nudged her in secret, she would nearly have exposed herself right there before father and son.

After that, though she rarely saw him, every time she did, a deep contentment would rise within her. Had it not been for Princess Derong’s family returning to Chang’an and his marriage prospects being placed on the agenda — and had she not, in a fit of jealousy and resentment, taken a desperate gamble — she would probably have continued to numb herself with self-deception.

Thinking of this, she gave a wan smile. Now that things had come to this, there was nothing more to be said. Even if given the chance to start over, as long as that obsession remained within her, she would certainly choose the same path. Her only regret was why she had followed her brother to Chang’an to pay condolences in the first place. Had she never glimpsed Prince Lan’s household from outside that gate — had that one fateful glance never occurred — the infatuation that followed would never have taken root.

“Your Highness.” Tears slid down her face as she looked at Prince Lan and said, “This concubine’s death is no loss to anyone, and even if Your Highness were to cut this concubine into a thousand pieces, this concubine would not dare utter a single word of complaint. But all of this was planned by this concubine alone, and has nothing whatsoever to do with this concubine’s elder brother, sister-in-law, or any family member. Min Lang is especially innocent — Your Highness, I implore you to see this clearly.”

Jiang Sanlang, standing to one side, gave a sardonic smile. This woman certainly knew how to feel fear now. The incident at Dayin Temple involved several Imperial Princesses and the daughters of numerous prominent court officials. Had all those people truly died under the blade that day, setting others aside — the mere fact of Kang Ping alone would have been enough to send the Emperor into a towering fury.

That was why, the moment he and Lin Xiao had uncovered the whole affair, their first priority had been to extricate Prince Lan from any involvement, so that he would not be dragged down by Cui Shi and fall under the Emperor’s suspicion.

But seeing is believing, and hearing alone leaves room for doubt. If the Emperor did not witness it with his own eyes, he might still harbor reservations. Better, then, to set a trap, drawing the Emperor’s close attendant Chamberlain Mi and others to this place, letting them witness the spectacle firsthand.

At this moment, Prince Lan shifted his gaze toward Zeng Nanqin, who had remained rigid and motionless throughout. Suddenly, he seized the sword at Jiang Sanlang’s waist, drew it out, and leveled it at Zeng Nanqin’s chest, intent on running him through then and there.

Chamberlain Mi and the others rushed forward to restrain Prince Lan, urgently advising him: “Your Highness, this cannot be done! This man is a criminal wanted by the court — if he is killed just like this, there are certain matters that may no longer be explained clearly.”

Prince Lan, furious as he was, had not entirely lost his reason. He knew full well the complications that lay within this, and gripping his fist tightly, he ultimately stayed the thrust.

Qin Yao followed Pei Min and the others out of Yun Rong Zhai, stealing a glance across the street. Seeing that Cui Shi’s carriage was still parked below the building, she could not help but lift her eyes toward the upper floor.

Liu Bingyu had purchased a great quantity of rose dew and peony blossom cream and was in a thoroughly contented mood. Noticing Qin Yao staring blankly at the building across the way, she looked puzzled. “What are you looking at?”

She tugged at her arm. “It’s getting late — let’s not dawdle. Come on, let’s go to Rong Bao Lou to buy osmanthus cakes.”

Qin Yao saw that Wang Yingning and Pei Min had already boarded the carriage and were waiting only for her, so she allowed Liu Bingyu to pull her along, laughing: “Let’s go, let’s go — I wouldn’t dare hold up your pursuit of food.”

The two of them had just reached the carriage when, from the far end of the street, a group of officials came into view. Liu Bingyu glanced at them absentmindedly and said, “Hmm — isn’t that my father’s carriage?”

Qin Yao looked more closely, and indeed, the official robes worn by these men looked very familiar — they were the same kind she had seen the last time she visited the Court of Justice. Following behind the group of officials were two carriages, which came to a stop together at the foot of the building across the street.

From the lead carriage stepped a middle-aged official with a ramrod-straight back. He was lean and upright in appearance, nothing like the typical paunchy official one usually saw — none other than Liu Zan, Prefect of the Court of Justice.

Liu Bingyu’s face lit up with delight, and she rushed forward at once. “Father! What brings you here?”

Liu Zan turned and saw his daughter, startled at first, then immediately adopting a stern expression. “Father is conducting important business — don’t cause trouble here.”

He glanced at Wang Yingning and the others who had just stepped down from their carriage across the way, then said to his daughter: “Didn’t you send word home this morning that you’d be going out with your friend from the Wang family to buy cosmetics and powders? Go and play with them — and make sure to return to the academy early.”

Liu Bingyu let out a reluctant sound of acknowledgment but showed no sign of actually leaving.

At this moment, a young official stepped down from the second carriage. He was of elegant bearing, with the appearance of an orchid and jade tree. Though he wore the most inconspicuous russet-brown official robe, he was still the most eye-catching figure in the crowd.

Qin Yao was taken aback — it was Feng Bingyu.

Feng Bingyu walked up to Liu Zan and awaited his instructions: “Sir, how shall we proceed?”

Liu Zan considered for a moment, then said to Feng Bingyu: “General Jiang and the others are waiting for me upstairs. I’ll go up first to assess the situation. You still have that unsolved case on your hands, don’t you? This street is busy and full of people — why not use this opportunity to make some inquiries.”

It was clear he was thinking of the status of those upstairs and deliberately finding a reason to send Feng Bingyu away.

Feng Bingyu acknowledged the instruction and stepped aside.

Liu Zan nodded, turned, and entered the building to go upstairs.

Liu Bingyu, seeing her father had no time for her, could only return to the carriage in sulky resignation. “Let’s go,” she told Qin Yao and the others.

Qin Yao glanced at Feng Bingyu. She hesitated for a moment, wishing to go over and greet him, but seeing that he was busy with official duties, she thought better of interrupting him and held back.

But as it happened, Feng Bingyu drew a portrait from his breast pocket, looked down at it for a moment, then raised his eyes and started walking directly toward the shops on this side of the street. When he spotted Qin Yao, he exclaimed involuntarily: “A’Yao?”

He strode toward her with long steps.

Qin Yao quickly responded with a smile: “Brother Feng.”

Feng Bingyu came up to her and, seeing that she was accompanied by only a few young women of similar age, his expression grew markedly more at ease. He asked gently: “No classes at the academy today?”

As he spoke, he studied Qin Yao carefully, as though, not having seen her for some time, he could not quite look his fill.

Qin Yao nodded. “The academy gave us the afternoon off. I came out with a few of my classmates to buy a few things.”

Noticing that Feng Bingyu had grown darker and thinner, she asked with concern: “Brother Feng, has the yamen been very busy lately?”

Feng Bingyu paused briefly, then gave a rueful smile. “It is busy — but if one wants to advance quickly, there’s no other way.”

Qin Yao exclaimed in surprised amusement: “Brother Feng, you’ve only just been promoted from Assistant Registrar of the Court of Justice to Deputy Justice, and that promotion was already remarkably fast! How much faster do you want to advance? Even my father says you have a limitless future ahead of you.”

Feng Bingyu kept his eyes fixed unwaveringly on Qin Yao. Hearing those words, he let out a quiet sigh within his heart, momentarily at a loss for how to respond.

Qin Yao, thinking she had said something wrong and displeased him, quickly added: “Though of course, advancing quickly is always a good thing. Brother Feng has a whole belly full of learning and works so steadily and diligently — who’s to say you might not one day leave the court and serve as Prime Minister?”

Feng Bingyu said nothing and continued to gaze at her quietly.

Qin Yao’s attention had already drifted to the portrait in Feng Bingyu’s hand. Curious, she asked: “Brother Feng, are you looking for someone?”

Feng Bingyu lowered his eyes to glance at the portrait and then opened it out. “A few days ago, several unidentified corpses were discovered in the outskirts of Chang’an. The other bodies were too disfigured to be recognizable, but this one’s features were still relatively intact, so a portrait was drawn of him to make inquiries and see if anyone recognizes him.”

Qin Yao looked at the face in the portrait and was deeply startled — was this not the very ghost who had wandered the academy grounds those nights before, half his head missing?

She quickly took the scroll from Feng Bingyu and examined it closely. With complete certainty, she nodded. “I recognize this person.”

“Really?” Feng Bingyu was completely taken aback and had just started to ask Qin Yao for more details when, from the building across the street, a sudden commotion broke out. A group of people came downstairs, the one at the front wearing an expression of furious indignation — it was none other than Prince Lan.

He emerged from the restaurant, boarded his carriage with an air of scorching rage, and sped away in a cloud of dust.

Yet Liu Zan did not follow him downstairs.

After a short while, two more figures descended. They paused only briefly at the foot of the building before heading straight in Qin Yao’s direction.

Both Qin Yao and Feng Bingyu looked at the two figures clearly, and each was momentarily stunned.

“Young Heir. Third Young Master Jiang.”

Lin Xiao gave Feng Bingyu an indifferent glance, then walked up to Qin Yao and regarded her with cool, composed eyes. “What are you doing here?” His tone was cool, yet carried an unmistakable undercurrent of intimacy.

Feng Bingyu’s expression darkened at once.

Qin Yao shot a quick glance at Wang Yingning and the others still sitting in the carriage, then feigned composure. “Buying cosmetics and powders.”

Jiang Sanlang adopted the look of a man greatly enjoying someone else’s misfortune, and called out from behind with a grin: “Miss Qu, long time no see — no school today?”