You can rest assured, this time, Lan Shanjun and Yu Qingwu won’t leave alive
When one’s hands and feet are bound, it’s very easy to be kicked down, and then helpless, the entire person left to be slaughtered at will.
—This wasn’t the first time she’d been treated like this by Song Zhiwei.
As Lan Shanjun fell to her knees on the ground, in a trance she remembered that year when the incident occurred—Song Zhiwei had also had her bound like this and thrown onto a carriage.
From Luoyang to Huailing was only a two-month journey, but she’d been bound until she’d lost half her life and no longer had the strength to resist.
But when Song Zhiwei treated her like this back then, it was because he thought she wouldn’t return. So treating her like this today—did he also think she wouldn’t go back?
What had Wu Qingchuan told him to make him dare be so arrogant?
Lan Shanjun stood up with difficulty, leaning against the torture rack in the prison, and laughed softly. “Where would there be groundless malice… You want to hear the truth?”
Song Zhiwei: “Naturally the truth.”
The smile at the corner of Lan Shanjun’s mouth grew larger. “Then I have plenty of truths to tell.”
Her previous life… the minute details she’d learned from the Duchess of Songguo in her previous life, the utterly useless anecdotes about Song Zhiwei she’d memorized—they were finally useful at this moment.
She looked at him: “When you were thirteen, you once wrote a poem.”
Song Zhiwei raised his head. “What?”
Lan Shanjun: “You wrote a poem about snow.”
She recited it slowly: “Cold blossoms dance and drift from jade terraces, pure shadows flutter gently, cleansing worldly dust.”
“I alone love how this adds auspicious signs—an icy heart awaits the coming spring.”
Song Zhiwei actually remembered.
He had indeed written it.
Back then he was still young. After writing it he’d been quite satisfied, but afraid of being mocked, he’d kept it in his study and never told anyone.
He frowned. “How would you know this?”
Lan Shanjun laughed. “Lord Song, didn’t you come today to interrogate me about the Duan Boyan case? Before coming, didn’t Wu Qingchuan tell you the truth?”
Song Zhiwei walked before her. A bad premonition arose in his heart. He paused, first sending the others out, then asked: “You’re saying… Wu Qingchuan told you this?”
Lan Shanjun nodded. “Back then, after your father the Duke of Songguo proudly wrote a letter sending your poem to Wu Qingchuan, Wu Qingchuan sent it to my master praising you. Naturally I also saw it—Song Zhiwei, your poem was truly terrible.”
For a moment, Song Zhiwei thought he’d misheard. After a long while he asked: “You and Wu Qingchuan and others—you’ve known each other all along?”
Lan Shanjun scoffed but didn’t answer his question. Instead she mocked with a laugh: “Lord Song, you’re so arrogant and consider yourself so clever, yet now that you’re on the battlefield, you don’t even know these things that I’m not even trying to hide.”
She grew louder: “When you were young, the Duke of Songguo must have valued you highly. Because he had a good relationship with Wu Qingchuan and exchanged letters regularly, in those letters he would praise your virtues. Wu Qingchuan naturally also liked you and often told Yu Qingwu: Look how capable Song Zhiwei is—with all this, how could we not have hostility toward you?”
Upon hearing this, Song Zhiwei knew things might be going badly. His calm demeanor became somewhat unsustainable as he also raised his voice to cut off her words: “Don’t drag my family into this. These poems and such—they could be learned with a little inquiry.”
But Lan Shanjun’s gaze gradually grew deeper. “Do you really—really think I have no evidence?”
She said softly: “When you were ten, you must have gotten into a dispute with the Second and Third Young Masters of the Song family. Late at night, wanting revenge, you accidentally fell from the window sill and scraped the skin on your back. You still have the scar to this day, right? The Duke of Songguo was so heartbroken. Wu Qingchuan even sent medicine back once. I wonder if it made your scar fade a bit?”
Song Zhiwei’s heart immediately began beating faster and faster. This matter—because it was undignified, his father and mother had never mentioned it to outsiders.
His face alternated between pale and flushed. His entire train of thought was disrupted by Lan Shanjun’s words. Seeing this, Lan Shanjun laughed again: “Song Zhiwei, you truly know nothing—so why did Wu Qingchuan call you here to interrogate me? I thought you’d made plans to mutually destroy each other, which is why you dared expose my identity… But now it seems, mutual destruction may not be it, but you’re definitely a discarded piece for the Duke of Songguo and Wu Qingchuan.”
“What happened? Back then you were so valued by the Duke of Songguo, yet now you’re pushed out to be a scapegoat? These past few years, how have you lived—how did you end up like this—mmph—”
Her neck was grabbed by Song Zhiwei, making it completely impossible to make any sound.
Song Zhiwei’s mind was in chaos, but he knew he couldn’t let her continue speaking. His hand continued applying force. He’d already developed murderous intent, yet was somewhat hesitant, not daring to act directly in the prison. He said coldly: “It seems before being arrested, you’d already prepared lies.”
Lan Shanjun was being choked breathless, but the smile at the corner of her mouth never stopped. The more he angrily tore off his disguise like this, the happier she became. She asked with difficulty: “Do you… still remember… Medicine King Body?”
Song Zhiwei froze. His hand loosened. Lan Shanjun was able to gasp a few quick breaths. She raised her head and smiled again: “Song Zhiwei, you must remember… remember these three words.”
Song Zhiwei’s eyes narrowed. Just as he was about to continue, he heard Liu Guan’s voice: “Lord Song, what are you doing?”
Song Zhiwei released his hand.
He said indifferently: “Madam Yu is after all Lord Yu’s wife. It’s not good to use the whip and injure her skin. But she speaks nothing but lies, and should know the price of lying.”
Lan Shanjun coughed a few times. “Lies? If you thought they were lies, you wouldn’t be so angry as to want to strike first and kill me.”
Liu Guan quickly had someone bring a stool for Lan Shanjun.
But Song Zhiwei, seeing his attitude, remembered Wu Qingchuan’s words.
Wu Qingchuan had said: “What His Majesty fears most is that the Imperial Grand Heir still inherited the path of the late Crown Prince and Duan Boyan. Once the matter of Lan Shanjun being Duan Boyan’s adopted daughter is confirmed, His Majesty will have an ineradicable suspicion of the Imperial Grand Heir, and will naturally believe he’s involved with the Ni Tao case.”
“You can rest assured—this time, Lan Shanjun and Yu Qingwu won’t leave alive.”
He smiled. “The ghost soldiers case back then killed so many people. If this young couple can be the last two, it’s also their merit.”
Song Zhiwei deeply agreed. After learning the cause and effect, he never thought Lan Shanjun could escape punishment.
But now she’d implicated the Song family, implicated that she and Yu Qingwu had known each other since childhood—he could instantly think that Wu Qingchuan and Duan Boyan had both been in Shuzhou.
Could they have had no private contact?
His heart grew panicked: Could he truly be a discarded piece?
Liu Guan looked at this one, then that one, and opened his mouth to ask: “Madam Yu, could you tell this servant about it?”
Lan Shanjun: “Please forgive me, Eunuch, I don’t know what to say.”
Her neck was still injured. Every sentence was difficult. After coughing a few more times, she said: “I was arrested and told I’d be questioned about the Duan Boyan case. But Lord Song hasn’t asked about that—he only asked me whether I’d ever met him before.”
She kept watching Liu Guan from the corner of her eye, gauging his attitude toward her. She said: “I merely answered a few truths according to his questions, and he became this angry.”
Liu Guan: “What truths?”
Lan Shanjun: “I said that the Duke of Songguo used to constantly write letters to Wu Qingchuan boasting about Song Zhiwei’s cleverness, so Yu Qingwu and I both dislike him—”
Liu Guan’s eyes brightened.
Though it was only a momentary expression, Lan Shanjun still saw it.
She paused, then asked: “I’d like to ask you, Eunuch, if convenient, could you tell me what happened? I’m just a woman of the inner chambers who understands nothing. I’m still confused right now.”
Liu Guan then also sat on a stool. “This servant was coming to ask Madam about this matter, so naturally I’ll tell Madam the details.”
The two questioned and answered, treating Song Zhiwei as if he didn’t exist.
Liu Guan: “Censor Zhao Changrui submitted a memorial to His Majesty, impeaching Lord Yu and you for orchestrating Ni Wanyuan’s death remonstrance case, wanting to use this case to force His Majesty to reinvestigate the ghost soldiers case from years ago, to force His Majesty… to issue an edict of self-reproach.”
Lan Shanjun: “Is there evidence?”
Liu Guan looked at her. “You are the evidence.”
This identity—if revealed at any other time, it certainly wouldn’t make His Majesty this furious. But to say it during the Ni Tao case, after the dragon ridge beast on the Taihe Hall fell—that made it a grave crime.
Lan Shanjun understood in her heart. She shook her head. “But before entering Luoyang, I was just a pig butcher. How would I know these things?”
She asked: “May I have an audience with His Majesty?”
Liu Guan shook his head. “His Majesty hasn’t said so. You cannot see him.”
Then she could only wait for Yu Qingwu.
Lan Shanjun stood up with difficulty and bowed to Liu Guan. “Eunuch, my husband and I are truly wronged. Please investigate clearly, Eunuch.”
“Whatever you ask, Eunuch, I will certainly speak without reservation.”
Liu Guan glanced at Song Zhiwei. “Does Lord Song want to question first?”
Song Zhiwei nodded, facing Lan Shanjun: “You say Yu Qingwu didn’t know about Ni Tao’s matter, then how did he have someone investigate Ni Tao’s horses?”
But Lan Shanjun said: “This isn’t something I could know. My lord isn’t yet married, so you probably don’t know—women of the inner chambers cannot inquire about their husbands’ affairs outside.”
She smiled, looking directly into his eyes: “Better to ask me about Duan Boyan’s matter. I know that more clearly.”
Song Zhiwei’s hands slowly clenched tightly. Liu Guan then said: “Then let this servant ask. After questioning, we can also report back to His Majesty before nightfall.”
He asked: “Madam Yu, do you know the identity of the monk who raised you?”
Lan Shanjun: “When I was young I didn’t know. I only thought he was an ordinary monk. But after arriving in Luoyang and encountering Wu Qingchuan, Yu Qingwu, Su Xingzhou and others, I learned.”
Liu Guan’s eyes flashed when he heard the three words “Su Xingzhou.” “Please tell this servant what happened, Madam.”
Lan Shanjun: “Speaking of it, it’s actually simple.”
She began hoarsely: “Since I can remember, I grew up in Huaishan County of Huailing, living with my master in a dilapidated temple. When there was no food, we’d go down the mountain to beg for alms.”
“Around five or six years old, I once saw the Su siblings. Following Wu Qingchuan’s orders, they came from Duancang Mountain to Huaishan to see the old monk, staying at the Taoist temple halfway up the mountain.”
“At that time, probably because I was so young, they spoke without avoiding me. I heard them mention names like Wu Qingchuan, Duke of Songguo, Song Zhiwei, and others.”
Liu Guan glanced at Song Zhiwei and asked carefully: “You’re saying Wu Qingchuan, Duan Boyan, the Duke of Songguo and others… had ongoing contact?”
Lan Shanjun: “There should have been contact.”
She said: “I was too young and didn’t understand what was happening. Being of humble status, I’d never heard the names of these great officials.”
Liu Guan’s heart had already been stirred by tremendous waves. But with Lan Shanjun explaining things this way, what had originally been a bad situation for the Imperial Grand Heir suddenly showed a glimmer of hope.
He asked urgently: “And then?”
Lan Shanjun: “Then, after my master passed away, the Su siblings came again on Wu Qingchuan’s orders to collect the body and buy him a coffin—all of this is traceable. I’ve never lied.”
She said quietly: “I always thought Wu Qingchuan was the old monk’s old friend. But he was a scholar while the old monk couldn’t even eat his fill. Our two families had vastly different statuses and weren’t worthy of association, so all these years, we never met.”
“Later, I was afraid living on the mountain and couldn’t survive, so I could only go down the mountain to butcher pigs. From then on, I never saw Su Xingzhou again. Until one day, I suddenly became the Sixth Miss of the Duke of Zhenguo’s residence, came to Luoyang with them, and saw Su Xingzhou again in Luoyang.”
“I was going to greet him, but… but I’d just arrived, and that day at White Horse Temple when I saw Su Xingzhou, Mother showed disgust. I didn’t dare go over.”
She said with regret here: “I should have gone to ask. I could have seen him one last time.”
Liu Guan’s eyes grew increasingly bright. “So you and Lord Yu—”
Lan Shanjun said firmly: “Yu Qingwu only knew that Wu Qingchuan had been secretly in contact with the Song family, but didn’t know of my master’s existence. Wu Qingchuan only ever had Su Xingzhou come from Duancang Mountain to Huaishan.”
“However, after I arrived in Luoyang and Su Xingzhou saw me again, Wu Qingchuan feared he would reveal my situation. Plus Su Xingzhou at that time had many criticisms of him due to the Marquis Boyuan residence matter, so…”
She said word by word: “He struck to kill.”