The very next day, the imperial edict promoting Yun Xi to Yihui Captain arrived.

Xuan Zhi didn’t hold back—he directly allotted two thousand elite Imperial Guards from under the Palace Command to Yun Xi, saying, “Captain Yun doesn’t yet have troops of her own under her command, but the order to recall the Marquis of Zhongyong’s former subordinates has already been sent to the northern frontier. The weather there is poor, and once autumn sets in, heavy snow seals off the mountains, so His Majesty has specially permitted them to set out after next spring.”

Yun Xi expressed her thanks, and after waiting another two days, the captured bandit chief finally confessed.

He said the mountain stronghold they’d occupied in the outskirts of the capital was called Tiger Head Mountain—seven senior leaders in all, with several hundred men under them, engaged in all sorts of business, legitimate and otherwise.

“We’ve had our share of friction with the local authorities, but after decades, we’ve come to an understanding. We normally don’t cause them trouble, and when we occasionally step out of line, they turn a blind eye.”

“About two months ago, a band of drifters showed up in the outskirts. We weren’t on good terms with them at first, clashed with them several times. Then one day, their leader—nicknamed Awl Eyes—came up the mountain to pay respects. I wasn’t there at the time, so I don’t know exactly what was said, but by the time I got back, several of our men were already drinking and calling him brother.”

This bandit chief said he ranked third among the seven senior leaders, known as “Third Brother.”

“Later I asked Old Seven about it. He told me this Awl Eyes had first given us a chest of gold, then said that with several hundred of us cooped up in these mountains, our lives weren’t even as good as some rich family’s dog—wouldn’t it be better to pull off one big job, build up some real capital, and wipe out a few of the neighboring strongholds? Silver, women, whatever we wanted, we’d have it all.”

“My eldest brother’s a bit too fond of money, and my second brother’s always been ambitious, so naturally they were talked into it—that’s how the trouble on the night of the Autumn Festival came about.”

“Third Brother” said their so-called “big job” was really just meant to be looting and pillaging on the night of the Autumn Festival, with strict orders not to take lives. So he genuinely didn’t know why assassins had ended up mixed in among their men that night.

But he had seen the eight assassins who’d killed themselves in prison before—they were indeed Awl Eyes’s men.

Xuan Zhi also asked about Awl Eyes’s background, but “Third Brother” claimed he didn’t know.

That made sense, too—among men like them, it was an unspoken rule not to pry into each other’s pasts.

Once “Third Brother” had finished confessing, Xuan Zhi had someone draw a portrait of Awl Eyes based on his description, along with a map of Tiger Head Mountain’s terrain and the layout of the bandit camp, and handed both over to Yun Xi.

Yun Xi wasted no time. That very night she returned to camp to organize her troops, and set out the next morning.

As the Chushu solar term drew near, Cheng Chang, remembering what Yun Xi had told him, had someone smooth things over at the Censorate, saying he wished to look into the Yao Susu case as well, taking advantage of the upcoming joint trial.

The people at the Censorate assumed the young prince simply wanted to make a name for himself and advance his standing, and replied that once the list of officials for the joint trial came out, they would add his name to it.

Cheng Chang thus passed these days in relative leisure—aside from attending to his duties, he spent his time at the mansion playing with Snowball.

The new maidservants added to his separate courtyard had been relieved of their duty to attend him, and with nothing else to do all day, they took turns playing with the adorable Snowball whenever Cheng Chang was out on duty. When he learned of this upon returning, he thought that young girls were, after all, more attentive than manservants, and silently allowed the maids to continue feeding the cat.

And so Cheng Chang came to have some dealings with these maidservants after all—each time he returned from duty and saw Snowball happily playing with the group of young girls, he wouldn’t rush them along, but would stand by and watch, and from time to time the maids would tell him about Snowball’s amusing antics during the day, which he’d listen to attentively.

These maids had originally been sent by Prince Cong’s consort to serve as bedmaids for the third young master, and even if they didn’t harbor any particular designs on him, they at least regarded him as their young master to be served and revered. Now, seeing how gentle and courteous he was, how approachable, with looks fine enough to rival the sun and moon, more than a few of them had begun to feel a flutter in their hearts.

Then one night, while Cheng Chang was bathing, one of the maids used the excuse of looking for Snowball to slip into his room, and lingered there, asking bashfully, with lowered brows and a flushed face, whether he needed to be attended to. Only then did Cheng Chang realize the impropriety of it—it seemed he’d unwittingly stirred up romantic interest once again.

He subsequently confined the maids to their quarters, laid down strict rules in the courtyard, and stopped conversing with them so freely.

A few days later, word came from the Censorate that the young prince’s name had been added to the list of officials for the joint trial.

The clerk who came to deliver the news said, “All the suspects, including those involved in the disturbance on the night of the Autumn Festival, have now been transferred to the Ministry of Justice’s prison. Only the fourth young lady of the Luo household keeps insisting on her innocence and refuses to confess. She’s a noblewoman, so harsh punishment can’t be used on her, which is why the Yao Susu case hasn’t made much progress.”

Cheng Chang asked, “Wasn’t Lord Luo of the Privy Council also summoned by the Court of Judicial Review for questioning a while back?”

The clerk said, “Lord Luo was summoned for questioning because there’d been some friction between the Luo and Yao families before this. His Majesty had originally assigned Lord Yao to handle the unrest in the outskirts, but Lord Yao passed the task on to Lord Luo, who then failed to resolve it properly, causing a rift between the two households. In investigating a case, no lead can be overlooked—a few days ago, the Chief Minister of the Court of Judicial Review suspected the fourth young lady of the Luo household might have targeted the second young lady of the Yao household because of this, which is why Lord Luo was brought in for questioning.”

“But thinking it over carefully, whatever’s between the two lords has nothing to do with the two young ladies themselves. Based on the evidence so far, if the fourth young lady of the Luo household really is the culprit, it’s most likely over matters of the heart. Once the Court of Judicial Review had that cleared up, they let Lord Luo return home.”

He then handed Cheng Chang the transcribed case files. “The third young master is now a judicial officer on this case, and may go question the suspects at the Ministry of Justice’s prison as the investigation proceeds. Each cell has a designated scribe who will record everything said during questioning and enter it into the case file, which will then be submitted to the Chief Minister of the Court of Judicial Review, the Censor-in-Chief, and Her Highness the Consort of Prince Yun.”

“The Consort of Prince Yun?” Cheng Chang was momentarily taken aback.

Then it came to him.

Women in Great Sui could hold office, and among those who had risen to the very highest ranks, none was more notable than the current Consort of Prince Yun.

She came from a prestigious family, was exceptionally talented, and had even placed third in the imperial palace examination in her youth. After marrying Prince Yun, she hadn’t given up her post at the Ministry of Justice, and now held the rank of Vice Minister of Justice.

However, Prince Yun and his consort—one overseeing the Court of Judicial Review, the other the Ministry of Justice—were famously estranged from one another.

Prince Yun was known for his philandering ways. After marrying his consort, he had taken on several concubines besides, keeping over a dozen women both with and without formal titles. Though married to his consort, the two lived almost as strangers to each other.

The clerk said, “The third young master may not be aware, but the presiding official at the Ministry of Justice overseeing this particular case is none other than the Consort of Prince Yun herself.”

Cheng Chang nodded, and thinking that there were only two days left before the trip to Baiyun Temple, he saw the clerk off and went straight to the Ministry of Justice’s prison.

The cell holding Luo Shu was quite clean. The warden leading the way said that in all this time, Luo Shu had only been subjected to finger-press torture once—being delicately built, she’d fainted from the pain within moments, and upon waking, had still insisted through gritted teeth that she’d never harmed anyone.

The judicial officers from both the Court of Judicial Review and the Ministry of Justice had run out of options—Luo Shu was a noblewoman, after all, and couldn’t simply be tortured into a false confession—so they’d shifted their focus instead to questioning Pei Lan more frequently these days.

The scribe in the cell was already waiting respectfully. Seeing Cheng Chang, Luo Shu froze for a moment, then stammered out, “I… I didn’t kill anyone…”

Cheng Chang hadn’t come for the Yao Susu case at all—he’d come for his own sake, hoping to glean some clue about the identity of the “Noble One” who sought to harm him.

But with a scribe present, he couldn’t ask too directly, so he circled around, first inquiring about the details of the night of the Autumn Festival, then probing obliquely: “I’ve heard that over the past six months, every time you accompanied Madam Fang to the pharmacy, you’d step out for a while partway through. Is that true?”

Luo Shu said, “There’s a smell in that pharmacy I can’t stand, so I always went out for a walk by myself each time.”

“How long would you be gone?”

“About half an hour.”

Cheng Chang nodded—he’d already heard from Yun Xi that the length of time the pharmacy’s physician spent giving Fang Fulan acupuncture treatments was roughly half an hour as well.

“Where did you go during that time?”

Luo Shu looked blank, thought for a while, then said, “I’d wander around the nearby perfume shops and fabric shops. Sometimes when I got tired, I’d sit in a pavilion by the Qinhuai River to pass the time.”

She looked worn out, dark circles under her eyes, and spoke as though in a daze the whole time.

Cheng Chang had originally suspected that Luo Shu used this time to send word to the “Noble One,” but seeing her in this state now, he couldn’t be sure whether what she said was true or false.

In his previous life, he’d lived in a society governed by rule of law and had no experience interrogating suspects. Seeing that Luo Shu hadn’t offered anything useful after all this time, he could only follow the thread of his suspicion further.

“I heard from Yun Xi—Captain Yun—that over the years in Jinling, the Luo and Marquis households have had little contact, and you and Madam Fang weren’t even acquainted before. Why did you suddenly become as close as sisters with her earlier this year, right after her mourning period ended, even accompanying her to the pharmacy so often without complaint?”

At this question, Luo Shu visibly stiffened.

After a moment, she lowered her eyes and said softly, “Because… because of Brother Pei…”

“Pei Lan?”

“Yes.” Luo Shu bit her lip. “I… I’ve liked Brother Pei since I was young. But he and A’Ting were betrothed to each other from birth, and I was afraid that once he returned from the northern frontier, A’Ting would marry him, and then I’d never have a chance.”

“I… wanted to know what A’Ting was thinking. But surely the third young master knows what she’s like—she keeps everything locked inside, never tells anyone.”

“It just so happened that Sister Fulan’s mourning period had ended, and in early February—or was it early March—she went into the palace and grew exhausted, nearly fainting by the moat. I went over to help her. Sister Fulan has such a gentle temperament, and I thought, maybe the things A’Ting wouldn’t tell me, Sister Fulan would be willing to share.”

“So you used accompanying Madam Fang to the pharmacy as a pretext to grow close to her?” Cheng Chang asked.

Luo Shu nodded. “I never really held out much hope of marrying Brother Pei. But Sister Fulan was always worried about A’Ting’s marriage prospects. Once, she told me that in all these years, A’Ting had never once brought up Brother Pei on her own—which most likely meant she didn’t care for him at all, didn’t want to marry into the Pei family. That’s when I truly began to set my heart on marrying Brother Pei myself.”

Hearing this, Cheng Chang couldn’t help but be taken aback.

He knew Yun Xi and Pei Lan had been betrothed to each other from birth, childhood friends. That day at the Pei mansion, when he’d seen how resolute and yet sorrowful she’d been in breaking off the engagement, he’d assumed she still carried some feelings for Pei Lan in her heart, at least to some degree.

But hearing Luo Shu’s words now, he finally understood—Yun Xi’s resolve in breaking things off had simply come from her deep sense of loyalty and duty, and her sorrow at the time had only been for the sake of the Marquis’s household, for Yun Luo.

She had never truly cared for Pei Lan at all.

Thinking this, Cheng Chang felt, for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, a certain lightness settle in his chest.

But that lightness lasted only an instant. Soon his thoughts returned to the matter at hand, and he asked Luo Shu, “So you only grew close to Madam Fang because of Pei Lan?”