Looking at the two concubines he had long neglected, Marquis Yongchang suppressed his emotions and said: “This is Magistrate Zhen of the Shuntian Prefecture. You must answer his questions truthfully, understand?”

Chunmei, the concubine with the gentle demeanor, cast a yearning glance at Marquis Yongchang before curtsying to both Zhen Shicheng and the Marquis. She responded “Yes” with apparent propriety.

Chaoyun didn’t look at anyone as she curtsied alongside Chunmei, her expression wooden and silent.

“Where do you both reside?” Zhen Shicheng asked.

“This humble one lives in the East Wing courtyard,” Chunmei answered proactively, knowing Chaoyun wouldn’t speak. “Chaoyun lives in the West Wing courtyard.”

“When did you retire last night?”

“This humble one went to bed at the beginning of the Hai hour,” Chunmei said with a hint of self-mockery. “There was nothing else to do.”

Night after night, the endless darkness stretched on. With no children for the company and no man’s attention, what else was there to do but sleep?

As these thoughts crossed her mind, Chunmei couldn’t help but glance at Marquis Yongchang from the corner of her eye.

Years ago, when Madam became pregnant and word spread that they would select a concubine for the Marquis, she had been almost delirious with joy. Even though the Marquis and Madam had clearly stated that concubines would not be allowed to bear children, she had convinced her parents to cancel her pending marriage arrangement to become the Marquis’s woman.

Youth breeds defiance—she had thought that with her beauty and understanding of nature, she would eventually warm the Marquis’s heart. Perhaps one day she would have children who would be raised as proper heirs.

But time taught her that the Marquis only kept concubines to warm his bed when Madam was indisposed. In his heart, they were barely different from cats and dogs.

Year after year passed, and that ambition had been ground away. While there might be lingering resentment, there was no regret. Those sisters who had married servants weren’t necessarily happier—many suffered beatings from their husbands or worried constantly about making ends meet. At least she lived quietly in the mansion without concerns about food or clothing, and her family had benefited from the connection…

“Where are your maids?”

Two maids quickly came forward to greet Zhen Shicheng.

“Did you attend to your mistress when she retired last night?”

A maid in green clothing answered: “I was on night duty, resting at Mistress’s feet.”

The Marquis had never officially elevated his concubines to the title of “Madam”, but with his son grown, the servants had taken to respectfully addressing them as such, and no one objected.

“Was there any disturbance during the night?”

The maid in green answered without hesitation: “No. I’m a light sleeper, and I was right at Mistress’s feet. If there had been any movement, I would have known. Mistress slept until morning when Taohong and I brought her washing water.”

The other maid immediately nodded in confirmation.

Zhen Shicheng consulted his register and learned that Mistress Mei’s two maids were named Taohong and Liulü, both assigned to serve in the East Wing three years ago.

Three years ago—

Zhen Shicheng couldn’t help but look at Marquis Yongchang.

This timing coincided exactly with Chaoyun’s pregnancy and subsequent abortion. Experience told him this was no coincidence.

The Marquis glanced at Chaoyun and said quietly: “At the time, sensing unrest in the inner court, I had all their serving maids and old women replaced.”

When Chaoyun mysteriously became pregnant, the Marquis suspected she had bribed the servants to replace her contraceptive tea. To prevent such incidents in the future, he had replaced all the serving staff.

He never wanted to experience again the heartache of ordering his bloodline terminated.

“The two maids were selected by my wife. They were born into household service—their words should be trustworthy.”

Zhen Shicheng nodded.

Since the maids were household-born and chosen by the Marquis’s wife, their families surely depended on her favor. The possibility of them helping Mistress Mei harm their master’s wife, or concealing her crimes, was extremely low.

Zhen Shicheng turned to Chaoyun with the same question: “When did you retire last night?”

After a long silence, Chaoyun answered: “At the Hai hour.”

Chaoyun also had two personal maids, but when Zhen Shicheng asked about attending their mistress to bed, they exchanged uncertain glances.

The Marquis gave a cold snort.

The two maids lowered their heads and answered in unison: “Mistress slept alone last night.”

At these words, the crowd’s gaze toward Chaoyun turned significant, with many recalling the abortion incident from three years ago.

After years of the concubines bearing no children, news of Chaoyun’s pregnancy had set the entire household abuzz with speculation that she would finally rise to proper concubine status. But then Madam fell ill, and the Marquis, fearing for her peace of mind, ordered Chaoyun’s pregnancy terminated without hesitation.

Tsk, after that, the sound of Chaoyun’s weeping often drifted from the West Wing. She must have harbored resentment and thus killed Madam.

Xie Qing’ao, who had been old enough to understand three years ago, could no longer contain herself. She stepped forward to confront Chaoyun: “Mistress Yun, did you kill my mother?”

Chaoyun stared at Xie Qing’ao expressionlessly, silent.

“Say something!” Xie Qing’ao’s voice rose. “My mother was never unkind to you. Now she’s dead in such a horrible way—can’t you say even one word?”

“I didn’t do it.” Whether moved by Xie Qing’ao’s words or knowing she couldn’t avoid answering under so many watching eyes, Chaoyun finally spoke.

Those three short words fell weakly on the listeners’ ears.

“Has the mistress always slept alone?” Zhen Shicheng continued undeterred.

One maid replied: “Mistress hasn’t slept well these past two years and doesn’t like us accompanying her.”

Zhen Shicheng stroked his beard: “So last night, none of you know if she remained in her room the whole time?”

The maids exchanged glances. The one who had spoken before shook her head: “I don’t know. I didn’t hear any sounds.”

She was known to sleep deeply—she wouldn’t hear even thunder, let alone anything else.

The other maid, however, hesitated.

“Did you hear something?” Zhen Shicheng immediately asked.

“I—” The maid glanced at Chaoyun.

The Marquis immediately thundered: “Speak if you have something to say! Why look at her? Has Mistress Yun been paying you extra?”

The maid involuntarily dropped to her knees, head bowed low: “Mistress… Mistress probably burned paper offerings in the night…”

“What kind of paper offerings?” The Marquis’s face darkened with anger.

The maid bowed her head even lower: “Paper offerings for the unborn young master…”

It turned out that since losing her child, Chaoyun would burn paper offerings for her unborn child every year on the anniversary of the abortion. This maid had stumbled upon the ritual the first year, and though she hadn’t heard anything last night, she had found ashes in a corner of the courtyard this morning.

“When you first witnessed the mistress burning offerings in your first year in the West Wing, what time was it?”

The maid recalled: “At the beginning of the Mao hour.”

An old woman suddenly exclaimed: “Oh my! This servant remembers—Mistress Yun’s child was lost at the Mao hour on this very day each year!”