Northern Bureau.

Prison.

Ji Lingchuan suddenly shuddered and sat bolt upright, gasping for breath.

What had he just dreamed about?

He’d actually dreamed of someone strangling his youngest son’s neck, watching him suffocate bit by bit.

“Did Lord Ji have a nightmare?”

Ji Lingchuan jumped in fright. “Who’s there?”

Outside the cell bars crouched a jailer.

“Someone asked me to notify Lord Ji—of the three days, only six hours remain. After six hours, your young master will probably be just a cold corpse.”

Ji Lingchuan rushed over like a madman, both hands gripping the bars tightly.

“What did you say? Say it again?”

“My master saw that Lord Ji has been sleeping too soundly these past few days and was somewhat displeased, so he acted ahead of schedule.”

Ji Lingchuan felt his heart being cut by knives, all his blood rushing to his head.

“You beasts, bastards! If you have guts, come at me, come at me…”

The jailer listened and shook his head with a sigh.

“Does he really think having the Imperial Grandson’s protection makes him safe? Lord Ji, my master says there are always places the Imperial Grandson’s protection can’t reach.”

“You… you… release my son… my boy…”

An irrepressible painful howl emerged from Ji Lingchuan’s throat as he rammed his head against the bars again and again.

Blood flowed down from his forehead.

Ji Lingchuan felt no pain at all. His ears were filled entirely with his youngest son’s voice.

This was his most beloved child, so obedient, so sensible.

“Father, I’ll help you grind the ink!”

“Father, tonight I want to sleep with you.”

“Father, come home early from court tomorrow and take me to Xu’s Restaurant for hotpot…”

Ji Lingchuan wailed in despair, his tears mixing with blood, dripping onto his prison garb. His entire face was unspeakably twisted and horrifying.

“Mother—”

Ji Lingchuan’s eyes bulged, veins standing out.

“How long will you continue to bring disaster upon the Ji family’s children and grandchildren? Can’t you stop being so selfish and think about your descendants!”

The jailer picked at his ear, thinking Ji Lingchuan must have been driven mad.

How could misdeeds one committed oneself have anything to do with the dead?

…

Deep night.

A carriage drawn by four horses traveled from a small path onto the main road, heading straight for the capital.

The Son of Heaven rides six, ministers ride four.

This carriage was precisely the vehicle of Imperial Grandson Zhao Yishi.

Though the carriage was spacious and refined, with five people sitting inside at once, it was still somewhat cramped.

No one spoke. A certain strange and indescribable atmosphere floated in the air.

To put it bluntly—it was awkward.

Twelfth Young Master of the Ji family had suddenly taken a turn for the worse, so they had to depart overnight.

To avoid suspicion, Zhu Qing, Ding Yi, and Huang Qi were left behind to return to the manor with Elder Master Xie tomorrow.

To avoid suspicion, everyone could only sit in the Imperial Grandson’s carriage.

Yan Sanhe glanced at the Imperial Grandson a few times before turning her head away and simply closing her eyes to rest, thinking—

Punishing openly, welcoming secretly for a hundred li—what a performance.

Xie Zhifei saw Yan Sanhe close her eyes and simply pretended to sleep as well, thinking—

Fortunately, I laid the groundwork with Yan Sanhe beforehand. Otherwise, this situation would be very awkward.

Pei Xiao’s expression was dim, his gaze vacant, looking completely “don’t ask me, I don’t know anything.”

Li Buyan rested her chin on her hands, staring at Zhao Yishi.

She watched with great interest, her eyes unblinking, even a trace of meaningful smile at the corners of her mouth.

Zhao Yishi’s gaze, meanwhile, was all on Yan Sanhe.

After a moment, he spoke frankly.

“Miss Yan, Mingting, Chengyu, and I have been good friends since childhood. We just haven’t made it too public. I hope you’ll understand.”

Yan Sanhe lifted her eyelids and said indifferently: “No need for excessive explanation, Noble Person. We won’t be meeting again in the future, and I’m not one to gossip.”

The implication—

Who you are, what relationship you have with Xie and Pei—I have no interest in knowing, and I won’t speak of it to others. The road is wide—we’ll each go our separate ways.

Zhao Yishi turned to look at Xie Zhifei and smiled slightly.

Xie Zhifei rubbed his nose.

See? The most difficult to serve this entire journey wasn’t even Pei Mingting. This one right here is truly deadly!

Zhao Yishi: “Entering through the South City Gate to the Northern Bureau takes about half an hour. Someone will deliver a set of guard’s clothing along the way. Miss Yan will disguise herself as my guard and enter the Northern Bureau with me.”

Yan Sanhe: “What about them?”

Zhao Yishi: “The Northern Bureau isn’t so easy to enter. They can only wait for us in the carriage.”

Yan Sanhe was about to nod when she saw Xie Zhifei’s dark gaze turn toward her.

She understood. “Noble Person, some of my questions are too private. I must see Ji Lingchuan alone.”

“I also don’t have time to accompany you to see him. I’m going to another prison cell to see Twelfth Master of the Ji manor. Also…”

Zhao Yishi showed not a trace of the airs of an imperial prince or grandson. “I’m not called ‘Noble Person.’ If you’re willing, you may call me Huairen.”

Yan Sanhe said neither humbly nor arrogantly: “I’d better address you as Your Highness!”

No matter how bold and reckless she was, she wouldn’t be so bold as to address the current Imperial Grandson by his courtesy name.

Moreover, he was just saying it casually. If she took it seriously, that would show a lack of tact.

“Please trouble Your Highness to tell the driver to hurry. There’s no time.”

“Don’t worry!”

…

Northern Bureau.

Another prison cell.

A thin, weak young man lay on the ground, his breathing growing weaker and weaker.

The jailer glanced at Xu Lai and said in a low voice: “My lord, this person’s body simply can’t withstand us acting.”

Xu Lai’s face showed vicious cruelty. “Has that old dog Ji Lingchuan confessed?”

Jailer: “Replying to my lord, not yet.”

Xu Lai laughed coldly. “Cut off one of his little fingers and show it to that old dog.”

The jailer hesitated: “What if…”

“There is no ‘what if.’ Use quality ginseng to keep him alive first.”

Xu Lai looked coldly at the jailer. “As long as Ji Lingchuan implicates the Zhang family, this person becomes useless. If he dies, he dies.”

“Yes!”

A moment later, a shrill, agonized scream echoed through the Northern Bureau prison.

Whether it was the connection between father and son, Ji Lingchuan, covered in blood, suddenly felt a wrenching pain in his chest that made him convulse violently several times.

“My son!”

It must be something has happened to his son.

He crawled forward several steps in panic, pressing his head desperately against the bars trying to see out. He could see nothing.

Ji Lingchuan continued ramming his head viciously against the bars, his throat screaming hoarsely over and over: “Someone, someone come…”

Through a sea of blood, a jailer ran over and crouched before him, opening a brocade box with a cold smile.

“Lord Ji, take a look!”

Ji Lingchuan looked down, his eyes suddenly freezing.

A death-like suffocation crashed over him like a flood, as if a giant hand was gripping his throat tightly.

“Lord Ji, you have three hours left. Whether your young master keeps his life depends on whether Lord Ji knows what’s good for him.”

The jailer tossed the brocade box onto the floor of the cell.

Ji Lingchuan crawled over on hands and knees like a dog, quickly snatching up that severed finger from the ground, tears streaming down his old face.

Protect the Zhang family, and he couldn’t protect his son.

Protect his son, and not only would he betray his master, his own fate wouldn’t be much better either.

But my son is my life!

“Ahhh—”

“Ahhh—”

Old Heaven, you’re forcing me, Ji Lingchuan, to my death!