She had once hated herself for having only this much capability.

“Today’s Mid-Autumn banquet was going well, but Censor Zhao Changrui suddenly attacked, impeaching Lord Yu for harboring ill intentions and wanting to reinvestigate the case of Duan Boyan from years ago.”

Zhu Shan brought Lan Shanjun to the Ministry of Justice, explaining along the way: “He only said these two sentences the entire time, but submitted a memorial to His Majesty—after His Majesty finished reading it, he said nothing and directly dismissed all the officials, keeping only the Imperial Grand Heir and Lord Yu.”

“About fifteen minutes later, Lord Yu was punished to kneel outside the Taihe Hall. We also received orders to interrogate you regarding Duan Boyan.”

He paused here. “This was an hour ago. I don’t know what the situation is now.”

He asked Lan Shanjun hesitantly, “Do you have confidence about this matter?”

Lan Shanjun thought for a moment. “Thirty percent confidence.”

She took a deep breath. “I just don’t know if my guess is correct.”

Zhu Shan had wanted to ask what her relationship was to the so-called Duan Boyan case, but before the summons came down, he didn’t dare question her privately, fearing this fire might burn him. He could only say: “In the Ministry of Justice, if I’m the one interrogating you, I can protect you from torture. But if His Majesty sends someone else… you’ll likely face more danger than fortune.”

Lan Shanjun was grateful for his goodwill. “I know. That you can tell me this much already violates your principles of conduct.”

When she first befriended Zhu Yun, it was precisely for his help today, so she wouldn’t be completely without information.

She said: “In the future, wherever you might need me, my lord, please don’t hesitate to speak.”

But Zhu Shan thought of how several bodies were carried out of the Ministry of Justice prison every day. He pressed his lips together. “I haven’t done anything. You needn’t feel indebted. I only hope you’ll be safe, otherwise Yunniang will be heartbroken.”

…

Inside the Taihe Hall, the Imperial Grand Heir had another teacup thrown at him.

This time it hit his head. Blood fell from his forehead into his eyes, then flowed down his cheeks from below his eyes. Half his face was stained with blood—a shocking sight.

But seeing this made the Emperor even angrier. He threw another cup, cursing: “I knew it—you’ve still been led astray!”

The Imperial Grand Heir knelt upright without saying a word.

The Emperor then picked up a pile of memorials beside him and threw them all at the Imperial Grand Heir’s head. He threw so hard he stepped backward, panting and stomping his feet in rage: “I ask you, are you trying to use Ni Tao to threaten me!”

The Imperial Grand Heir: “Ni Tao is already dead. This grandson doesn’t know what Imperial Grandfather means.”

The Emperor sneered: “You still take me for a fool! Imperial Coachman Yu’s wife—that woman called Lan Shanjun—was she raised by Duan Boyan? Speak!”

The Imperial Grand Heir: “This grandson doesn’t know.”

The Emperor laughed furiously. “You don’t know, yet you still dare say you don’t know!”

“If you didn’t know, why would you indicate to the Song family to marry her? Why would you let her enter the palace to teach A’Man swordsmanship!”

He stared at the Imperial Grand Heir menacingly: “If you didn’t know, when Yuanniang was unconscious that day, how could you rest assured letting her guard the room?”

Everyone understood what the Grand Heir Consort meant to the Imperial Grand Heir.

The Emperor understood too.

The Imperial Grand Heir then knew where the problem lay. So it was at that time that he aroused Prince Qi’s suspicion.

He became alert inwardly, but smiled miserably on his face. “Did Uncle Prince Qi tell you?”

The Emperor: “Don’t try to change the subject. Just answer me—is it true or not!”

The Imperial Grand Heir: “This grandson has said he doesn’t know if it’s true. But if Uncle Prince Qi investigated and says it’s true, then it must be.”

The Emperor slapped the table hard. “Don’t drag Prince Qi into this. He’s not the one who first reported this matter.”

But the Imperial Grand Heir clung to the words “Prince Qi”: “Today is Mid-Autumn. You specifically had someone set up a banquet in the Taihe Hall, giving those ministers plenty of face—at such a fine banquet, if Uncle Prince Qi wasn’t instigating from behind, would Zhao Ruichang dare to impeach someone at this moment?”

“This grandson also wants to ask Uncle Prince Qi—since he already knew that Madam Yu was someone raised by maternal great-uncle, why didn’t he say so earlier? If he’d said it earlier, this grandson would have treated Yu Qingwu better for Madam Yu’s sake… If Uncle Prince Qi had said it before their marriage, this grandson wouldn’t have let her marry someone destined to meet a bad end.”

The Emperor paused upon hearing this, then sneered. “You’ve certainly learned to be sharp-tongued.”

His eyes shifted slightly as he walked to the head seat and sat in the chair, his expression dark. “I won’t believe you knew nothing.”

The Imperial Grand Heir stopped speaking, looking sullen. Then he suddenly said: “Even if she was raised by maternal great-uncle, what does it matter? It’s already been twenty years. Even Imperial Grandmother, who experienced Father’s and maternal great-uncle’s deaths back then, has already let it go—she’s just a young woman, what can she do?”

“Kneeling here, the more this grandson thinks about these things, the more he resents Uncle Prince Qi. He clearly knew the truth, yet still chose to attack using Ni Tao’s matter. This truly makes this grandson disdainful.”

Of course the Emperor wouldn’t believe Prince Qi was completely innocent either.

He sat without speaking, then scoffed. “You mean you’re innocent?”

The Imperial Grand Heir: “Not entirely innocent. This grandson does know what Ni Tao did—Imperial Grandmother told me later.”

The Emperor actually believed his last statement.

In the thirty-first year of Yuanshao, the Imperial Grand Heir was under ten years old and didn’t understand such things at all. He believed Duan Boyan and the Crown Prince wouldn’t have told him about Ni Tao’s matter.

The Emperor contemplated for a moment but grew angrier the more he thought. “But Duan Boyan could have told Lan Shanjun! She went to great lengths to enter Luoyang, step by step approaching the Eastern Palace… Does she want to use the Ni Tao case to expose the ghost soldiers matter on Duan Boyan’s behalf?”

This was what the Emperor worried about.

Of course, what he worried about most was whether this was the Imperial Grand Heir’s doing.

First having Ni Wanyuan die in remonstrance to implicate Ni Tao, then forcing him to kill Ni Tao, then having Imperial Academy students cause trouble and arouse public outrage, and finally, when this matter grew bigger and bigger, revealing the concealed ghost soldiers case of the twenty-ninth year of Yuanshao in Shuzhou.

Step by step, pressing ever closer. The Emperor sneered: “Why? Why hasn’t the final step been taken?”

The Imperial Grand Heir immediately said: “You’d have to ask Uncle Prince Qi. Why didn’t he take the final step?”

Seeing him being unreasonable, the Emperor didn’t continue questioning. He rested both hands on the chair back. “I… have been tolerant and forgiving with you all, never willing to beat or scold you, yet you’ve grown increasingly excessive, even making an issue of me…”

He smiled thinly. “This matter, I will definitely investigate until the truth is revealed.”

…

Outside the Taihe Hall, Yu Qingwu still knelt upright under the corridor, brows stern and eyes downcast.

Liu Guan bowed as he came from inside to outside. When crossing the threshold, he glanced at Yu Qingwu and discovered that though his expression was calm, his hands were trembling slightly—enough to show his inner turmoil was extreme. He was using all his strength to suppress it but could no longer control it.

Liu Guan had followed the Emperor his whole life and seen much life and death. At a glance, he could tell whether someone worried for themselves or for others. He paused, then spoke: “Imperial Coachman Yu, His Majesty just gave the order that this servant and Young Lord Song will interrogate Madam Yu.”

Yu Qingwu looked up in surprise. This was the first time Liu Guan had voluntarily spoken to him. But the next instant, he was shocked by his words, coolness crawling all over his back: “Song Zhiwei?”

Liu Guan nodded. “Yes.”

Yu Qingwu had been kneeling too long. After just a few words, his voice was terribly hoarse. He took a deep breath, suppressing the numerous distracting thoughts in his mind, and bowed to Liu Guan. “Eunuch Liu, I want to ask you for one thing.”

Liu Guan: “I can’t accept such deference. Please speak, Imperial Coachman—this servant may not be able to do it.”

Yu Qingwu looked up: “If… if the interrogation goes past nightfall, I’d like to ask you to light a lamp for my wife.”

As these words came out, even his speech carried a tremor. “She’s afraid of the dark. At night, there must be a lamp.”

Liu Guan looked at him in surprise: “Just this?”

Yu Qingwu: “Only this.”

Liu Guan found it curious and nodded. “This is a small matter.”

He left. Yu Qingwu’s previously upright kneeling posture collapsed, and then his breathing became rapid.

He and Shanjun had considered that Prince Qi and Wu Qingchuan might learn of her identity and use it against the Imperial Grand Heir. They had also carefully deliberated what might happen, but… even with many speculations in his heart, at this moment he still couldn’t remain calm.

He remembered Shanjun solemnly saying to him, “Yu Qingwu, I want to entrust my life and death to you.”

He had felt these words were inauspicious at the time. He wanted her to spit three times for luck, but she only smiled and said: “I’ve told you, don’t be afraid. Our fate has already changed.”

But how could he not be afraid?

Just thinking of her having to face Song Zhiwei, face the past, face the pitch-black Ministry of Justice prison made him feel Heaven was too unfair.

Good people cannot constantly suffer tribulations. People cannot test human nature in desperate situations, and Heaven cannot either.

If good people never received good rewards, what meaning was there in the path he persisted in?

…

At the Ministry of Justice, Zhu Shan saw Song Zhiwei waiting in the hall, and his expression immediately soured. He looked at Lan Shanjun worriedly. The usually cheerful man narrowed his eyes coldly. “What does Lord Song mean by this? Coming to steal rice from someone like me?”

Song Zhiwei didn’t respond. He disdained to.

Two or three years ago, Zhu Shan couldn’t even get close enough to speak to him. But this fallen Shuzhou household member now dared to shout at him.

Father scolded him for being too hasty, but if he moved any slower, no one in Luoyang would know who Song Zhiwei was in the future.

He had already endured not being able to stand out in youth, endured not being able to fight back when Yu Qingwu impeached him, endured being twenty-four but still having accomplished nothing—must he continue enduring?

He was unwilling to sit and await death, even less willing to live only in his father’s shadow.

Before coming, Wu Qingchuan had asked him: “By stepping forward to actively interrogate this matter, you’re taking the Duke of Songguo’s household to completely side with Prince Qi’s residence—there’s no turning back… Will you regret it?”

But Song Zhiwei said: “Only the weak have regrets.”

He never felt inferior to others.

He ignored Zhu Shan, looking coldly at Lan Shanjun, but his gaze suddenly paused as it moved over.

She was smiling.

Song Zhiwei watched her quietly for a moment, then had someone take her away.

Zhu Shan immediately led people to block in front of Lan Shanjun. “What are you doing?”

Song Zhiwei produced the Emperor’s written order. “His Majesty ordered Eunuch Liu Guan and me to interrogate this matter, transferring it to Luoyang Prefecture.”

Zhu Shan was about to say more when he heard Lan Shanjun say: “Lord Zhu, this is an imperial decree. Neither you nor I can disobey it.”

Zhu Shan hesitantly stepped back.

Lan Shanjun smiled. “It’s fine.”

She looked at Song Zhiwei. “It’s just that Lord Song looks somewhat like he wants to use me to establish his authority.”

Song Zhiwei still ignored her words. After bringing her to the Luoyang Prefecture prison, he had someone shackle and bind her hands and feet, then walked over and looked at her. “What are you laughing at?”

Lan Shanjun: “I’m happy.”

Song Zhiwei: “You entered prison and you’re happy?”

Lan Shanjun shook her head. “No, I’m happy that you’ve become like this.”

She had thought her ability was insufficient, that she could only ruin Song Zhiwei’s reputation without him caring—she had once hated herself for having only this much capability.

Day after day in her nightmares, she often dreamed of Song Zhiwei standing before her mocking: “Shanjun, is this all you’re capable of?”

Each time she woke, she hated him through gritted teeth.

But now, looking at Song Zhiwei, she laughed aloud: “You were originally a scion of a prestigious family with a broad road to walk—but now, following Wu Qingchuan, you’ve taken such a path to the Yellow Springs. I’m very happy.”

From the moment he began interrogating her, he had walked the same path as the Zhu family, becoming a blade in Prince Qi’s hand.

Just like the initial relationship between Yu Qingwu and the Imperial Grand Heir.

And Prince Qi would not be merciful.

Lan Shanjun thought of his aloof appearance in the previous life and felt some satisfaction. “Song Zhiwei, how desperate are you to become famous—”

But before she could finish, Song Zhiwei walked to her side and suddenly kicked her leg. She didn’t steady herself and fell to her knees with a thud.

He said coldly: “Still find it funny now?”

He stared at her. “I always felt you had an inexplicable hostility toward me. May I ask—have we met before?”