Yuncheng’s sentence came down quickly. In just a few days, his punishment was decided. According to protocol, His Majesty likely hadn’t informed the Prime Minister and the Privy Council, and even the censors hadn’t received the news.

This was normal. After all, according to the charges Shen Qiyuan set, Yuncheng had killed his wife in a fit of passion, which could be classified as a private household matter, requiring no inquiry from court ministers.

Standing in the wasteland outside the Imperial Clan Court prison, Ruyi hesitated for just a moment, but only a moment, before her lips curved into a smile.

She had promised Wei Zijue something and had to do it. Even if heaven and earth were turned upside down, she must first fulfill his wish.

The Imperial Clan Court prison had extremely heavy guards, one person every five steps, bearing halberds and carrying sabers, guarding inside and outside without a single gap. Ruyi observed for a full hour before finding a two-breath opening and instantly entering.

If it were before, she wouldn’t need such trouble—she could easily deceive heaven and earth by transforming into anyone. But now residing in a human body, she couldn’t change form and could only rely on speed to win.

Yuncheng sat in his death cell, face full of despair.

“I didn’t kill her, I didn’t.” His hair was disheveled, his eyes red-rimmed. “Why won’t His Majesty believe me?”

“Save all your words for the King of Hell in the underworld,” the jailer waved dismissively.

He leaned against the bars, clear tears tracing a line from the corner of his eye: “Zhong’an…”

Silence fell around them. Yuncheng stared blankly at that small window, as if hearing Haiyan’s voice in his ears: “Are fame and fortune truly more important than everything else?”

No, no, he shook his head.

When he married Lady Zhang years ago, it wasn’t purely for advancement. She was cheerful and generous, like the rising sun in the east. While illuminating Zhong’an’s heart, she naturally also illuminated his.

He knew he was base—jealous of his brother, currying favor with the powerful, fawning and flattering—but precisely because of this, he was even more unwilling to let go of such a bright woman.

She was his redemption, his solace. They bore children together, their love deep and lasting. They could have lived their entire lives this way.

But the first to break this beauty wasn’t him—it was her.

Covering his face in pain, Yuncheng felt unwilling: “I didn’t kill anyone. She committed suicide.”

“Do you have evidence?” A voice suddenly rang out in the cell.

Yuncheng jumped in fright, jerking his head up to see Ruyi standing before him, slowly crouching down, her charming, long eyes looking at him with an expression between a smile and not: “Do you still have evidence to prove your innocence, Lord Yun?”

“…” He looked left and right in disbelief.

The cell door behind him was locked tight, the jailers in the distance were still patrolling, yet this person had appeared before him silently, without even a speck of dust on her.

Those facing death tend to be braver than ordinary people. He didn’t cry out, only stared wide-eyed at her: “Are you… human or ghost?”

“Does it matter?” She curved her lips. “I can rescue you, my lord.”

Escape? Yuncheng instinctively shook his head: “Impossible. Not to mention, this Imperial Clan Court prison is extremely heavily guarded; even if I got out, I’d become a fugitive. Early death, late death—don’t I have to die either way?”

“My lord has a third path to choose,” she said. “Leave here, go straight to Chaotian Gate, and strike the Heavenly Hearing Drum.”

The Heavenly Hearing Drum was said to reach heaven’s ears directly, but the one who struck it would generally first be brought to the Privy Council, have their accusations recorded and reported to the Prime Minister and Deputy Chief Minister, then reach the imperial presence.

Though Yuncheng’s charges were set by His Majesty, the various departments knew nothing about it. If there was injustice, with the current Prime Minister Feng’s upright character, he would surely make it public in court. Then His Majesty would no longer be able to easily convict without proper procedure.

The person before him kept shaking his head: “The Heavenly Hearing Drum—regardless of whether the striker has genuine grievances, they must first receive eighty heavy blows. Those blows would leave me barely alive.”

“Don’t worry,” Ruyi said. “When those eighty blows fall, if my lord feels even the slightest pain, I’ll give the entire Immortal Wine Tower to your young son.”

Yuncheng looked at her suspiciously: “Why are you doing this?”

Having private relations with Shen Qiyuan, yet here encouraging him to overturn the case? If this case were overturned, wouldn’t Shen Qiyuan inevitably be implicated too?

Ruyi grew somewhat impatient: “If you don’t want to, then forget it. Consider that I was never here.”

He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything more, a gust of wind swept past him.

The door lock made a sound, then returned to silence. In the blink of an eye, only he remained in the cell.

Yuncheng rose in astonishment, stepping forward to examine the lock.

It was locked tight, with no signs of damage.

“What are you trying to do?” A jailer’s whip lashed out, striking his fingers precisely. “Already on death row and still harboring useless thoughts? Watch your skin!”

Yuncheng fell back in pain, covering his hand and hissing for a long while, finally feeling regret.

“I agree!” he shouted to the air. “Come back, I agree!”

Even if Shen Qiyuan was setting another trap for him, as long as he could get out, there would still be an opportunity. His Majesty had favored him for so many years—he must only be temporarily deceived. As long as he explained clearly, as long as he produced evidence, he could survive.

No response came from the air. The person seemed to have already gone far.

Yuncheng clutched the bars in frustration, regretting more as he thought.

Ruyi walked through the wasteland. Hearing his voice, she didn’t turn back.

Regret was something that would grow more frenzied with time. Let him suffer for two more days—she also needed time to prepare.

Returning to the Immortal Wine Tower, as soon as she entered her room, Ruyi’s ears twitched.

Latching the door and turning around, she looked up to see Shen Qiyuan sitting by the table.

“Where did you go?” he asked expressionlessly.

Ruyi blinked: “There’s an estate in the western suburbs, four to five hundred acres planted entirely with good rice, vegetables, and fruits. I wanted to buy it, so I went to take a look.”

Glancing at the red clay on her shoe tips—indeed from the western suburbs—Shen Qiyuan’s expression relaxed somewhat: “Sensing your demonic power, I thought something had happened.”

Her heart skipped slightly. Ruyi lowered her eyes and smiled: “What could happen? The estate was too large, so I saved some footwork.”

That he could even sense her use of demonic power—this person’s divine consciousness probably covered all of Great Qian.

Her eyes moved. Ruyi grasped his hand, touching the thumb ring on his finger: “Qingqing, there’s a snow scene on the lake outside the western suburbs. Isn’t the day after tomorrow your rest day? Would you come with me?”

Snow scene on the lake?

Shen Qiyuan looked at her fingertips, made even more tender and white by the jade-green thumb ring, slightly pressing his lips.

Thousands of years ago, this person didn’t yet have her current dissolute and absurd air. With only an aura of clear moonlight and brilliant color, leaning against the railing, forcibly suppressing her nervousness, she had asked him: “There’s a lake at the southern foot of Qidou Mountain. The snow scene is quite beautiful. Would you come with me?”

“What’s good about snow scenes? Just a field of falling white,” he had answered then. “With this time, better to study a few more divine techniques.”

Only much, much later did he learn that lake snow scenes indeed weren’t particularly beautiful, and what she wanted to see then wasn’t that field of falling white either. But shyness and disappointment prevented her of that time from speaking again.

But now the person before him grasped his hand and shook it again: “Please? Pretty please?”