Since the Eleventh Princess was hosting a tea gathering, she naturally had to send invitations to all the prestigious families with whom she usually associated. The Prince of Zhennan’s estate was also among those invited. The Princess Consort of Zhennan held the invitation feeling somewhat troubled, thinking it would be awkward whether she went or not.

To say she had no resentment whatsoever in her heart would be a lie. She had so sincerely visited their door time and again to propose marriage, and Ye Jingchuan was also genuinely devoted, yet in the end Song Chuyi had looked down on her son. As a mother, she inevitably felt somewhat displeased. However, as the Prince of Zhennan had said, if someone didn’t fancy him, that was that—the Song family hadn’t readily agreed from the start either. So she’d been holding this frustration in her heart, and now knowing what this tea gathering was really being held for, she felt rather awkward.

After much deliberation and consideration, she felt that even if she herself went, she couldn’t bring her son along. The Eleventh Princess’s tea gathering was arranged in an interesting way—the Prince Consort entertained male guests in the front while the ladies watched opera and amused themselves in the rear quarters. Therefore, most of the young men had also been invited. Since Ye Jingchuan had previously been on good terms with the Prince Consort, his name naturally hadn’t been left off the guest list.

When Ye Jingchuan came to pay his respects that evening, she specifically assigned him an errand: “The bed for your eldest sister’s dowry is nearly finished. If you have time, go out of the city to take a look and bring along the pearls for the inlay.”

She had specially commissioned an old craftsman who had retired from the Ministry of Works to help make it. The man lived outside the city, and the round trip would take at least four or five days. Ye Jingchuan knew his mother was worried about him being upset by the surroundings, so he readily agreed. He then went to find his elder brother and father to discuss the matter of Elder Chen being escorted to the capital: “I heard he only arrived in the capital today.”

This was actually quite late—Cui Yingshu would also be arriving in the capital soon. The Prince of Zhennan stroked his chin, looking at his two sons and asking: “Has the Imperial Guard not sent out any information yet?”

Eunuch Feng had also been thrown into the imperial prison. Logically speaking, there should be something spilling from his lips by now, shouldn’t there?

Ye Jingkuan sat at his father’s side. Hearing this, he naturally picked up the thread: “A few days ago I made inquiries along the way. I heard they’ve already begun preparing the documents. Since they’ve started on the documents, Commander Lai probably hasn’t come away empty-handed. Now we just wait for Elder Chen to arrive in the capital for the Ministry of Justice to conduct another trial.”

That fox Meng Jiming wasn’t claiming illness this time either—he’d been looking spirited every day. The Chen family definitely couldn’t escape this time. The Prince of Zhennan made a sound of acknowledgment, then turned to ask Ye Jingchuan: “Fujian—are you still going?”

A military report had come from Fujian saying that pirates had colluded with Japanese raiders to invade the coastal borders. Over a thousand men had routed three thousand local militia, successfully plundering quite a bit and abducting two to three hundred common people. His Majesty was furious and had already ordered Left Vice Minister of War Liao Huaiyuan to go inspect. If Ye Jingchuan wanted to go, this was a good opportunity.

Ye Jingchuan nodded in agreement without hesitation: “Son was just about to bring this up with Father. I do want to go.”

Going to Fujian would be good—he could steadily learn some skills and establish merit. His younger son ultimately wasn’t cut out for scheming and plotting. The Prince of Zhennan nodded concisely: “Very well then. Make your preparations—it will probably be within the next few days.”

The Song household also received news of Old Master Chen being escorted to the capital. Old Madam Song almost couldn’t resist clapping in approval: “After delaying all these days, I heard he fell ill several times on the road. I thought he’d drag it out until after the Mid-Autumn Festival before entering the capital, yet doesn’t he still have to come back? He insists on putting on such airs, but looking at his current state, does he think anyone dares extend a hand to pull him up?”

Today, the last twenty remaining monks of Huangjue Temple had also been executed. In all these years, aside from the initial incident with Prince Tai, the court had never executed so many people. Since Emperor Jianzhang’s ascension to the throne, this year probably saw the most death sentences approved with his vermillion brush.

Old Master Song brought up the matter: “Actually, though they’re called monks, when have these people ever truly considered themselves monks? His Majesty made it crystal clear on the imperial proclamation this time, calling them rebel conspirators and traitors.”

First Master Song also nodded: “Previously, the Wei family spread rumors saying Huangjue Temple had suffered implication because of Xiao Yi, which caused quite a disturbance for a time. Since the imperial proclamation was posted, gradually no one dares mention such talk anymore.”

Rebels were rebels, traitors were traitors—traitors who had attempted to assassinate the Imperial Great-Grandson at that. What was there to say? Having committed such a grave crime, even if Song Chuyi weren’t an ill-fated lone star, could they have lived anyway? The common people weren’t all led around by the nose either.

“This evening when Brother Jue returns, we’ll know what the situation is at the Ministry of Justice.” Old Master Song said: “His Majesty has steeled his heart to rectify official administration this time. Meng Jiming is clever too—he’s been working non-stop waiting for Old Master Chen to arrive at the Ministry of Justice before beginning the trial. With his efficiency in handling matters, this case probably needn’t be like Huangjue Temple’s and drag on so late.”

Actually, when the court handled cases, following regulations and procedures typically took several months at minimum. Cases that dragged on for years weren’t unheard of either. The Huangjue Temple people being convicted and beheaded in just over ten days could truly be considered lightning speed. As for Old Master Chen’s case, Meng Jiming would probably take even less time than the Imperial Guard took with Huangjue Temple.

Because they needed to free up time—they still had to prepare for the upcoming trial of Cui Yingshu.

Old Madam Song couldn’t help but frown thinking about this matter. It really was difficult to handle. All the officials of Jiujiang feared being implicated and had united to insist it was all Cui Yingshu’s responsibility. They stood united as one and had prepared the surface evidence so well, adopting a stance of refusing to rest until they’d pushed the blame onto Cui Yingshu. It truly gave one a headache.

Old Master Song glanced at Song Chuyi and told her: “Chief Minister Chang also has no solution. He sent people to Jiujiang to have a word with them, but the Jiujiang side insists to the death that it was Cui Yingshu who took bribes.”

Thinking about it, this was actually quite understandable. After all, four to five thousand people had died—this wasn’t a small number. In Fujian, it would already be enough to have the Governor-General temporarily stripped of his position and ordered to atone for his crimes through merit while under observation. What more in Jiujiang? The Jiujiang officials had probably all received guidance to pin this scapegoat on the outsider Cui Yingshu. Naturally, they likely hadn’t had such courage before—so who gave them this courage? This was also easy to guess. This matter had occurred simultaneously in a three-pronged coordinated attack with the Huangjue Temple and Old Master Chen incidents, making it difficult not to suspect them.

But back then, Old Master Chen had been able to persuade them because they also believed what Old Master Chen said—that the Song and Cui families would probably both suffer misfortune, and it didn’t matter if Cui Yingshu took the blame. What about now?

Just as she’d told Princess Duanhui last time—now both the Song and Cui families were still doing perfectly fine. If anyone should be anxious, it was them.