The long box on the side table kept catching her eye. Hua Zhi pressed her lips together, reached over, and opened it. She was not surprised to find a hairpin lying within — but when she lifted it in her hand, she was genuinely startled.

It was heavier than expected. Much like the pin she had once used to wound someone, one of the prongs was actually a spring-loaded blade. The tip appeared to have been unsealed — and had her hand not pulled away quickly, it would have been more than a minor graze. She looked closer at the dark, almost blackened color of the metal — it resembled what legends described as black iron…

Hua Zhi sprang to her feet and walked outside. In the daylight, the hairpin revealed itself clearly: black with a faint blush of red running through it. Could this truly be the legendary black iron? Black iron was renowned for its hardness — from everything she knew, artifacts made of it tended to be heavy swords or battle axes. For it to be fashioned into something this delicate…

She spotted the figure walking out of the side room and nearly went over to ask whether this was truly black iron — but then she recalled the atmosphere between them just moments ago, and she pressed the impulse down. The question could wait. She had no desire to exchange another word with that man today.

She gave a small, composed bow and returned to her study.

Gu Yanxi watched her go with a smile in his eyes — even with a great pile of matters awaiting him back at the palace, nothing could disturb his good mood in this moment.

Behind him, Wang Rong followed carrying a large bundle of packages, eyes quietly cast downward, privately resolving to show even more deference to the eldest young miss of the Hua Family in the future.

Hua Zhi placed the hairpin beside the hair stick Bailin had polished himself. She had already come of age, yet she spent her days at home and had no real inclination to use such ornaments at present. While she still had the luxury of being casual about these things, she intended to enjoy it — once she was older, she would have no choice but to wear her hair up properly.

The early spring night still carried a thread of chill. In the hush of the hour when all was quiet, a figure in a dark alleyway struggled painfully to push itself upright against the wall. A head covering slipped loose, revealing the face of Hua Jing.

Once the eldest daughter who had left the Hua Family in marriage — she was now nothing but skin and bone, her cheeks hollow, her entire appearance that of a person barely clinging to life. And yet her eyes still burned. Bright with a ferocious, consuming hatred, they glowed with a light that could scald.

On the rooftop above, Wang Rong signaled the others to hold their positions and watch first — to see what Hua Jing intended to do.

Hua Jing braced herself on a long staff, one hand also gripping a four-legged wooden stool, and slowly dragged herself to the front gate of the Hua Family’s estate. With a cold smile, she reached into her clothes and pulled out a length of white silk. She looped one end loosely around the top of the staff and worked it over to the other side of the horizontal beam above the gate, trying several times before at last she managed it.

Hua Jing caught her breath for a moment, then used the white silk to steady herself as she stepped up onto the four-legged stool. With trembling hands, she knotted the silk into a dead knot, pulled it tight with every last ounce of her strength, and slipped it around her neck.

The Hua Family had failed her! The Hua Family had failed her!

She would die here — she would ruin the reputations of every Hua Family daughter so none of them could marry. She would destroy Hua Zhi’s name and make them all pay the price!

It was all the Hua Family’s fault. It was all Hua Zhi’s fault. If not for her, would the Song Family have ever dared treat her this way? And her son — would her own son have refused to even see her face? It was all because of Hua Zhi. All because of her!

I will die right here before your eyes — die right before your eyes!

Hua Jing steeled herself and kicked the stool away. As her feet scrabbled and kicked, her breath grew weaker and weaker. Her features twisted with agony. And in the blur of it, Hua Jing seemed to drift back to her girlhood days in her parents’ home — carefree and content, everything going her way. Her father doted on her, her mother spoiled her, her brothers protected her. Back then…it had been so good.

How…had it come to this?

Hua Jing’s eyes stretched wide, tears streaming down her face, as consciousness slowly left her entirely.

Only then did Wang Rong move, bringing the others forward. He quickly stepped up and cut her down, then pressed two fingers to her pulse. Good — there was still a breath left in her. He had not intervened while Hua Jing was attempting to hang herself, but he could not actually let her die on the Hua Family’s doorstep — if he had, his superior would never let it go.

He had the barely-living Hua Jing hoisted onto another man’s back and gave quiet instructions in his ear. The man nodded and left swiftly. Another gathered the white silk, the stool, and the long staff, and followed. Wang Rong himself stayed behind to clean up what remained.

From the start, when he had first noticed someone in the alley, he had only kept a peripheral eye on it — the residents in this area were decent folk, and the patrol guards did not come through these small lanes. Now and then a bold beggar child would slip in to sleep here, but who could have imagined that the eldest daughter who had married out of the Hua Family would be so ruthless to herself — and had apparently been lying on the ground for that long.

She was wronged at her husband’s family, and she came to hang herself at her birth family’s door.

How very entertaining.

Thinking of the spectacle tomorrow would bring, Wang Rong allowed himself a smile.

Hua Zhi rose early the next morning and led the maids through a set of exercises. Walking out of the courtyard gate, she spotted the Sixth Prince on the other side practicing alongside the Hua Family children. He appeared to have some foundation already — compared to those who had been training for only a few months, he was not at all behind, keeping up with both the movements and the force behind them. At a glance, he looked as though he had simply always been one of the Hua Family’s own.

Hearing hurried footsteps, Hua Zhi turned to look. It was Nanny Su.

“Miss, word has come from the front — the eldest daughter who married out has passed away.”

Hua Zhi raised her brows. Faster than she had anticipated. Seeing that Nanny Su wore an expression of wanting to say more but holding back, she asked, “Is there something more to it?”

“She… died by hanging.” Nanny Su paused, then completed the sentence: “Hanged at the Song Family’s front gate.”

The moment Hua Zhi heard it, something felt wrong. No mother would fail to think of her children — especially in this era, where children were a woman’s very life. Even if Hua Jing no longer cared for her daughter, she would have had to consider Song Chenghao. A single white silk cord would be her death — and yes, it would let her die venting her rage at the Song Family for humiliating her — but her children still bore the Song surname. Once she was gone, what kind of life would they have? The Song Family had more sons than just Song Zhengzu, and grandsons to spare beyond Song Chenghao — they need not keep him around. To hang herself at the Hua Family’s gate would have made far more sense…

Hua Zhi felt a jolt of cold clarity, and several thoughts flashed through her mind in rapid succession.

She noticed that the children’s session on the other side had concluded and walked over, giving Wang Rong a bow.

Wang Rong quickly stepped aside and refused to receive it — he could not accept that.

“May I ask, Mr. Wang — has something happened at the Hua Family that I am not yet aware of?”

Wang Rong looked up in surprise. They all knew the person their superior had set his eyes on was extraordinary — but he had not expected that the moment the news reached her, she would already have grasped that possibility.

He did not conceal anything, and told her what had happened in the early hours of the morning — including the follow-up, in which Hua Jing, still clinging to that last breath and not yet fully gone, had been strung up at the Song Family’s front gate.

Inside Hua Zhi, something roiled and churned like water poured into a pan of hot oil. She could have gone straight to the Song Family’s door to lash Hua Jing’s corpse herself.

That venomous creature! She had wanted to drag the very family that raised her down into hell with her! What had the Hua Family ever owed her?!

“Miss Hua need not worry — every trace has been cleaned away. This matter cannot be connected to the Hua Family.”

Hua Zhi drew in a long breath and forcibly swallowed back the towering fury inside her. She turned to Wang Rong and gave a deep, formal bow. “Thank you, Mr. Wang. If not for this, the Hua Family might have been covered in filth with no way to shake it off.”

Wang Rong was so startled he leapt back. “Miss Hua, please, do not do this — we only followed orders.”

Hua Zhi gave him a nod and turned away. She knew exactly whose name to attach this gratitude to.