The rumors fermented extremely quickly, as if they had sprouted wings. The story became more and more outrageous—gradually evolving from the Crown Prince and Crown Grandson framing and plotting to murder Prince Gong, to Song Chuyi being an ill-omened lone star who had bewitched the Crown Grandson, turning him into a tyrant like Jie and Zhou, making him willing to harm even his own uncle for her sake.

Some people felt dissatisfied, especially those scholars and literati, who retorted that rebellious traitors were always full of excuses, and to actually push the blame onto a woman was contemptible.

But these voices were quickly drowned out, because someone stealthily mentioned: “Have you gentlemen forgotten the fate that Master Yuanhui of Huangjue Temple predicted for this Sixth Miss Song? Have you forgotten the Heaven-Sent Stone Tablet that was dug up at the Imperial Mausoleum’s hot spring villa?”

Still others felt unconvinced: “But there are many accomplished masters. We’ve never heard the Celestial Master Zhang of the Celestial Master’s Mansion say anything. When the Crown Princess Consort went to Yangquan, she even encountered the True Man Taibai, and we haven’t heard him say anything either.”

One word stirred up a thousand waves. Someone immediately questioned back: “Yes, why is that? Why have all those who spoke ill of Sixth Miss died, while those who don’t speak badly of her are living just fine?”

The teahouse, which had been bustling with excitement, instantly fell silent. People came and went continuously, until finally a voice emerged: “Moreover, everyone knows that Celestial Master Zhang of the Celestial Master’s Mansion is the Crown Grandson’s teacher. How could he speak ill of the Crown Princess Consort? Even if he saw something, he certainly wouldn’t say it.”

Master Chang felt completely overwhelmed. He had long lost any desire to enjoy tea at the teahouse recently. After returning, he headed straight for Song Chengru’s study. Only after Song Chengru had some free time did he shuffle in, sighing worriedly: “Popular resentment is boiling over—I fear it will invite great trouble.”

But Song Chengru was not anxious at all. He even had the mood to ask: “What is it? What are they saying today? Have they already pushed the blame onto Little Yi, calling her a disaster bringing demon consort? Saying our Song family is full of treacherous villains?”

Still in the mood to joke around! Master Chang took a breath and looked at Song Chengru. Seeing him writing furiously on paper, obviously in quite a good mood, he couldn’t help but advise: “Lord, I know that now that His Majesty has fallen ill, His Highness is the legitimate heir, and now Chief Minister Chang and the others are also taking the lead in requesting His Highness assume regency. But my lord, preventing the people’s mouths is more difficult than damming rivers!”

He paused, and seeing Song Chengru look up, said: “Only those who attend to the will of the people can possess all under heaven. Right now, popular sentiment…”

He didn’t continue the rest of his words, but he believed Old Master Song could understand. Back when Prince Gong was universally condemned, it was simply because he was disloyal and unfilial, daring to raise a rebel banner while Emperor Jianzhang was still alive. Because of this, everyone under heaven reviled him, wishing they could execute him. Even though he had colluded with Han Zhengqing and even the Tatars, he still couldn’t advance a single step and was kept far away in Xibei—ultimately because Prince Gong had offended all under heaven.

But now, Prince Gong was about to be whitewashed, transforming from a rebellious traitor and unfilial son into a suffering filial son who still remembered his old father in the capital and only wished to eliminate the petty men around Emperor Jianzhang.

This was truly an enormous farce. If he succeeded, what would become of things?

Song Chengru had finished writing his letter. He picked up the paper to read through it once more, and only after confirming that everything he wanted to express was clearly written did he say to Master Chang: “No need to worry. Let them make noise. The more noise they make, the better.”

The more noise the better? Had he said it backwards? Master Chang was completely confused, not understanding whether Song Chengru was saying this because he was too confident that Zhou Weizhao would definitely assume the throne and therefore felt these rumors no longer mattered, or whether he had other plans.

But he was merely a retainer. He had given all the advice he could. If the master of the house wouldn’t listen, there was nothing else he could do. He could only sigh, dragging his elderly body outside.

When people stayed in high positions for a long time, they would forget how cautious and careful they had been when in lower positions, walking up step by step. Those long accustomed to high positions—how could they still remember the mindset of being a subordinate?

Song Chengru used to be extremely courteous to his retainers and guests. While he couldn’t be called particularly affable, he never ignored their suggestions. But this time was an exception. After Master Chang left, he didn’t have anyone call him back in. He tidied up the things on his desk and turned to enter the inner courtyard.

Old Madam Song had been waiting for him for quite some time. After he loosened his outer robes and changed into ordinary clothes, she asked him: “I heard Master Chang went to find you. Why did you…”

These past days, she had been constantly anxious. Emperor Jianzhang’s illness had come inexplicably—everyone knew something was suspicious. She lowered her voice and took Song Chengru’s letter: “With His Majesty fallen ill, everyone below is in a state of anxiety. If these rumors continue spreading like this, it really isn’t a solution. Even if His Highness truly assumes regency, if the generals below don’t submit… it could easily cause trouble.”

Song Chengru loosened his too-tight collar, sat on the kang leaning against the pillow, and nodded to her: “I know all this. We’re all well aware. You can rest assured.”

As he spoke, he looked at Old Madam Song with solemn instructions: “The capital is likely to have an incident. Tell the eldest daughter-in-law to strictly control the gates. From now on, everyone who enters the residence for duty must report at the side gate, and the same treatment for those going out.”

It had reached this point?! Old Madam Song had been married to Song Chengru for so many years and naturally understood his meaning. She couldn’t help but be alarmed: “Old Master, you…”

Song Chengru’s eyebrows drew down. This time he truly sighed: “Little Yi’s people have had an incident.”

He told her about what happened to Song Chuyi at the Huangdaxian Temple residence, then looked at Old Madam Song: “Scholar Chen and those people being imprisoned—it’s all Little Yi’s revenge.”

Old Madam Song listened with both anxiety and anger, but in the end felt somewhat bewildered: “But now His Majesty is ill. I’ve heard that many people have recently been causing trouble at your Grand Secretariat, demanding that you reexamine Prince Gong’s case and release Zheng Sansi and the others…” If only Emperor Jianzhang had confirmed the charges against Scholar Chen and Zheng Sansi before falling ill. Now leaving this loose end made it easier for people to let their imaginations run wild, and also gave those peace advocates room to maneuver.

Moreover, could Song Chuyi’s revenge really be so light? Old Madam Song understood Song Chuyi’s character all too well. She was someone who valued relationships so highly—others had killed people who had been with her so long—would she so easily let them off with just imprisonment, and now they might even be released from prison soon?

This was completely wrong. This wasn’t Song Chuyi’s style of handling things at all. This entire matter was full of suspicious points everywhere.