Xie Lanting felt that Song Juqing was saying far too much — a great deal of it had nothing to do with the case, and was entirely his own speculation.

That Lu Qingrong wanted Chen Baoxiang’s reputation destroyed and everyone around her driven away was hardly unexpected, was it? Chen Baoxiang was the one who had murdered her father. It would be strange if she wished her well.

And that final remark was even more baffling. Since she had filed a formal accusation, she would certainly want a result — how could Lu Qingrong possibly not care?

He continued to ask carefully about the situation in Nanzhou, and questioned who exactly had been present at the time of Cheng Huaili’s death.

It was not until the third watch of the night that he finally walked slowly out of the Court of Judicial Review.

“My lord, I’d like to request a day off tomorrow,” one of the junior officials said, barely able to hold himself together any longer. “Things have been busy at home lately. I can’t keep staying up this late every night.”

“My lord, same for me. I’ve been going back and forth between Guiliang and Shangjing — it’s been half a month since I’ve eaten a meal with my family.”

Xie Lanting, somewhat distracted, gave his assent.

The junior officials filed out in twos and threes, leaving him standing alone at the entrance.

He stood there for a moment, then walked slowly in the direction of his private manor.

“My lord.” A maidservant came out to receive him.

Xie Lanting glanced inside: “Where is Miss Lu?”

“I was just about to tell you, my lord. Miss Lu says she has found some relatives and will be moving in with them — she says she doesn’t want to trouble you any longer.”

He looked up in surprise: “What relatives? Hasn’t the Lu family been mostly implicated by now?”

“Miss Lu didn’t say. She only said to thank you for your care over these past days, and that the two of you are now even.”

“…”

The deep winter wind was cold, and it blew through Xie Lanting’s head until he could barely think straight.

Even?

What even?

The case wasn’t broken, Chen Baoxiang’s crimes hadn’t been established — and she considered her wishes already fulfilled?

Or perhaps her wish was not to bring Chen Baoxiang down — but rather—

On instinct, he turned around and looked behind him.

A solitary lamp cast a solitary shadow. The lane was empty, not a single person in sight.

His eyes widened slightly, and his mind — which had been immersed in the case all this while — was pierced by a single sliver of clarity.

“Surely not,” Xie Lanting murmured uncertainly. “I’ve been hunting hawks my whole life, and now a hawk has pecked out my eye?”

The maidservant standing nearby didn’t dare make a sound.

Xie Lanting turned over the details of their reunion in his mind.

She had appeared at the entertainment house, hinting that it was due to Chen Baoxiang’s abuse of power.

She had followed him to the Court of Judicial Review, saying she understood nothing of the proceedings and was merely taking a look around.

She had said that Chen Baoxiang bore a grudge against her, and that the moment she showed her face she would be in terrible danger.

Step by step, piece by piece — all of it resting on the suspicions and doubts about Chen Baoxiang that had already existed within him.

He had always been careful never to let preconceived notions cloud his judgment in a case — he bore this in mind at all times.

But Chen Baoxiang had a truly extensive record of past offences and an array of devious methods, while Lu Qingrong had seemed, up until very recently, so hopelessly dim-witted and easily duped.

Placed side by side, who could ever have thought it was Lu Qingrong with the scheming mind?

He leaned against the doorframe and turned it over for quite a while, but still could not figure out how Lu Qingrong had managed it.

What he did understand was her purpose.

—Not just to ruin Chen Baoxiang’s reputation and drive everyone around her away. She had no intention of sparing him either.

Filling in the gouge one had carved out of someone didn’t count as making amends. The only way it counted was if one dug an equal gouge into the other person’s leg in return.

“My lord!” His personal attendant suddenly came running back from outside, his voice urgent with anxiety. “Word of your purchasing the release of the indentured entertainer somehow reached the Master’s ears. The Master’s health was already poor, and now he’s coughed up blood and fainted from the shock.”

“The Mistress is beside herself and demanding you return to the East Rong residence at once.”

“Furthermore, the palace sent word this afternoon that the Censorate has impeached you for abuse of authority. Tomorrow you are required to answer in open court.”

“…”

His heart sank sharply.

Xie Lanting pressed his lips together, forcing himself to gather his senses as he gripped the saddle. He swung back into the saddle and set off at a rapid pace toward East Rong residence.

A fierce wind howled. The night lanterns flickered faintly. And Shangjing’s first snow finally began to fall, drifting softly down in the fading sound of hoofbeats into the distance.

·

Shangjing was mostly red walls and yellow-glazed tiles, which looked especially beautiful draped in snow.

Chen Baoxiang breathed warmth into her cupped palms, grinning as she crouched in front of a dozen or so chests.

“This one, fifty taels. This one, eighty taels. Oh — this one is a full hundred taels. Write it down, write it all down.”

Zhang Zhixu walked over with a puzzled look: “What is all this?”

“You’re up.” Chen Baoxiang beamed and spread her hands open toward him.

He bent down and lifted her up to stand, full of bewilderment.

“I’ve taken on disciples,” she said, her arms looped around his neck and her smile bright. “Quite a few of them.”

She had the title of Marquis now and held real authority, but her reputation was truly dreadful, and most colleagues were unwilling to associate with her. Taking on disciples was, admittedly, a rather good way to pass the time.

But even so.

He frowned at the chests: “Isn’t the initiation gift a little generous?”

“Is it?” She blinked at him with innocent eyes. “They send me things, and I help them secure official positions and promotions — given how good those terms are, this much of an initiation gift is hardly excessive, is it?”

Zhang Zhixu: “…”

“Are you trying to give Xie Lanting even more charges to bring against you?”

“Accepting gifts, then doing a few favors in return — isn’t that the unspoken convention of officialdom? Does that count as a crime?” Chen Baoxiang whipped a ledger out from behind her back in an instant. “Well then, the number of people guilty of the same offence as me is quite extensive — from the chief ministers of the Three Departments down to the minor attendant officials, including people from the Zhang household and the Gu household. Everyone has committed this particular error.”

“Never mind the bank notes and other items — just counting those who ran a tab at Zhaixing Tower and had someone else settle it for them, there are no fewer than fifty.”

Zhang Zhixu was stunned.

He reached out to take the ledger and leafed through a couple of pages, then pressed his hand down on it: “How did you come to have something like this?”

“Patrolled the city enough times, and you naturally end up with it,” she said, eyes bright with mischief, clutching the ledger to her chest. “With this many people to take the fall alongside me, even if I were caught accepting bribes, the punishment wouldn’t be severe.”

Zhang Zhixu’s brow slowly drew together, and he seemed to want to say something but couldn’t quite bring himself to.

“Great Immortal,” she said, looking at him with crystalline eyes. “Are you about to scold me?”

Honestly — yes. Accepting bribes was nothing to be proud of. By improperly promoting certain people, she was inevitably and unfairly displacing others who deserved the positions instead.

He had spent recent sleepless nights revising the new statutes governing the imperial examinations precisely to make the path to official service fairer for everyone — so that those who had studied hard and honestly would receive what was rightfully theirs.

And now, here she was accepting bribes right in front of him.

Zhang Zhixu was entirely at a loss.

Chen Baoxiang took his hand and gave it a gentle, coaxing shake: “Turn a blind eye — is that all right?”

“…That’s rather difficult.”

“Do you want to personally send me to prison, then?”

“Is there any chance I could first persuade you to return everything and step back from the edge?”

“No.” She shook her head. “You know me — I love money most of all.”

Zhang Zhixu fell silent. His eyelids lowered, casting a shadowed crescent beneath them. His wide sleeves caught the winter wind and billowed aimlessly, like a grey banner hanging limp on a solitary pole.

Chen Baoxiang waited for quite a long while, but never heard from his lips those words: Then I’ll report you myself.

Zhang Zhixu was the finest-kept gentleman she had ever known — clothed in silk, nourished on the finest things, untouched by great suffering, such that even in his most painful moments, his eyes were like beautiful glass, unstained by the deep silt at the very bottom of the world.

He didn’t care for money, and wouldn’t be led by interest to stray from his path. He only wanted, with his whole heart, to draft a set of laws that were absolutely fair, and to cultivate a world where everyone had enough to eat and no one was made to suffer — a world where all people could live in happiness and joy.

She had once imagined the same thing, but now she knew clearly: it could never come to pass.

But she was very glad that he held such a wish, and had no desire to shatter it.

This was how a Great Immortal ought to be. This was what it meant to save all living beings.

But right now, the Great Immortal had discovered her “corruption,” sword raised and hovering, torn between two impossible choices.

And he had not immediately dragged her off to the authorities.