Feng Quan knelt by the bedside, tasting every dose of medicine meant for Li Jianting before she took it.
Li Jianting’s face was pale, her temples drenched in cold sweat. She lay on the bed still trembling. Even beneath the covers, she seemed crushed, faint whimpers slipping from her throat in time with her ragged breathing.
The imperial physicians inside the hall did not dare act rashly. Separated by hanging curtains, they repeatedly took her pulse, occasionally wiping away sweat while relaying prescriptions to those nearby.
Kong Qiu had once followed Hai Liangyi through two such crises, but this was his first time handling one alone. His hands hidden in his sleeves were soaked with sweat, so much that it dripped into his eyes, yet he did not dare blink.
If the Crown Prince were to die…
Kong Qiu did not even dare continue the thought. He forced his eyes shut, remembering the rainstorm during the Gu Gou case, and what kind of resolve Hai Liangyi had needed to say those words.
Teacher.
Kong Qiu clenched his teeth.
If only the teacher were still here. At this moment, he could not even speak. Listening to the Crown Prince’s broken breaths, he felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness.
The medicinal soup was forced down Li Jianting’s throat, yet her eyes still moved beneath her lids, as if trapped in a nightmare.
Feng Quan had knelt for an entire day. In a brief moment when the attendants withdrew, he gathered courage and brushed aside Li Jianting’s damp hair, watching the shifting expressions on her face.
This struggle had already implicated everyone present. Whether the Crown Prince lived or died, none of the attendants—maids or eunuchs—would survive.
Feng Quan knew he had to find a way out. He still had unfinished business. Li Jianting absolutely could not die.
“Your Highness…” Feng Quan whispered close to her ear. Leaning in so near, he noticed the tiny pierced hole in her earlobe. Hardening his resolve, he said, “Your Highness clawed your way out of the brothels of Qinlou Chuguan. You stand only one step away from the throne. If you falter now, all will be lost—Your Highness!”
Li Jianting seemed not to hear him at all, her fingers tightly gripping the bedding. She lay in this embroidered splendor, yet her heart was still trapped in the filthiest brothel under heaven.
A faint sob lingered in her throat—the sound of begging from when she was beaten.
Heaven toyed with her, granting her such a status, yet making her born a woman. The clanging earrings blurred together with the sound of overturned furniture. Countless times she had fallen among them, dragged by her hair before filthy men.
Xiang Yun had been a “good mother.” She knew how to make full use of everything.
Ling Ting was a girl adopted by Xiang Yun, but she was not special. Xiang Yun had too many adopted children.
She would lift their chins and examine them carefully, deciding their fates.
Ling Ting was pretty, but not likable. Xiang Yun studied her and decided her eyes were particularly unpleasant.
“She looks decent enough, but too fierce,” Xiang Yun said, tapping her pipe. “Those eyes are better off ruined. Clouded and hazy—that’s what makes men feel pity.”
Ling Ting was small and thin. Xiang Yun fed her, but never truly blinded her. For that, Ling Ting was grateful.
Every day she moved through Xiang Yun’s brothel, watching men come and go, serving the courtesans. She had no fixed master, running barefoot through corridors, serving tea and water while watching the women apply powder and perfume.
Women smelled so good.
Ling Ting knelt by the doorway, leaning against the carpet, secretly sniffing the fragrance inside like a puppy. She watched plump bodies draped in silk, slender fingers adorned with jade bracelets, and heard the courtesans’ lilting laughter. She felt an endless yearning for that world.
Xiang Yun drifted over like a wisp of cloud, swaying slightly. Drunk, her face glowed faintly. She smiled foolishly, bent down, and lifted Ling Ting’s face.
“Little dog…” she said softly. “Mother will give you earrings.”
Golden threads hung with a pearl slid coldly along Ling Ting’s ear before falling onto the carpet. Ling Ting stared blankly as Xiang Yun straightened up and walked away laughing.
“Mother has an important guest today,” one courtesan said lazily while putting away her hairpins. “The second young master of the Northern Li Prince.”
A burst of giggles filled the room.
Ling Ting did not know who the Northern Prince was, nor who the second young master might be. She carefully picked up the fallen earring and hid it in her palm.
That night, when serving wine, Ling Ting followed the attendants inside and saw Xiao Chiye reclining on a couch, drunk and rambling.
Several noble young men accompanied him, but Xiang Yun ignored them all, sitting gracefully beside one of them like a lady of high birth.
Xiao Chiye wore a dark crow-blue robe. Even such attire could not restrain his unruly charm. He leaned against a chair, playing dice with the others.
Ling Ting stood nearby pouring wine for the guests. The banquet went on half the night until everyone was drunk. Li Jianheng kept urging Xiang Yun to drink, while Xiao Chiye played with increasing amusement, never once touching any courtesan.
Li Jianheng, reeking of alcohol, pointed at Xiao Chiye and said, “This is my… my brother! Northern Li Prince’s son… been to war…” He hiccupped and laughed, “Ce An is the real deal!”
Xiao Chiye laughed loudly, tossing dice into a golden cup. With a careless tone he said, “The battlefield stinks. How could it compare to this gentle place? Second Young Master should stay here and drown in wine and pleasure.”
Li Jianheng pushed Xiang Yun toward him, but Xiao Chiye’s hand slipped and caught only the cup, while Xiang Yun ended up in someone else’s arms.
When the banquet finally ended in chaos, Ling Ting still held the golden-thread earring in her palm. Seeing a mirror in the side room, she stood on tiptoe and tried it against her ear.
The pearl swayed among her hair, shimmering beautifully.
So beautiful.
Just as she thought this, she heard the sound of spilled wine. Startled, she quickly withdrew her hand and saw that the second young master from Northern Li was still awake.
Xiao Chiye did not look at anyone. Even surrounded by noise and indulgence, he remained distant. One arm rested on the chair, his gaze sharp and clear as he looked out the window toward the direction of Northern Li.
Ling Ting retreated outside and carefully wiped the sweat from the earring before hiding it close to her body and sleeping with it.
Not long after, Xiang Yun noticed the missing earring.
Xiang Yun called Ling Ting over. While dressing before the mirror, she suddenly turned and smiled.
“You’re twelve now.”
Li Jianting vomited out all the medicine she had just swallowed. The attendants quickly brought clean hot water. Feng Quan rinsed cloths and wiped her clean.
Half-conscious, Li Jianting saw only blurred light. Warm cloth touched her temples like falling tears.
The Crown Prince did not wear earrings—but Ling Ting did.
“Livestock…” Li Jianting rasped in pain.
Livestock!
Ling Ting wore those earrings, golden threads flowing like tears in her eyes. She struggled, only to be dragged back down again and again. She cried out, pressed down, her forehead bruised and purple.
“Let me go…”
Ling Ting whimpered, eyes filled with sweat and tears, staring at the tightly shut door, searching desperately for an escape.
“Mother…” she cried hoarsely. “Spare me…”
The only answer was a slap.
Livestock!
Li Jianting’s trembling fingers clenched the bedding. Her chest rose and fell violently. In the endless cries, she finally recognized what she was.
She was livestock. From the moment she was born, she had been nothing but a sacrifice—abandoned in the filthiest corner of the world. And through the cracks, she saw that everything she once believed was false. None of those women had escaped such a fate. They were all… all livestock to be slaughtered.
Ling Ting clawed at the narrow crack with broken nails.
Why was she born a girl?
This body was disgusting!
She screamed toward the outside world:
“Mother…” she howled in hatred. “Kill me!”
If she had to live…
If she had to live like a human…
“I…” Ling Ting laughed and cried at the same time, clutching the fallen earring.
Then she would kill herself, peel away this flesh, abandon everything of a girl, and fight, and bite, and take back what she deserved!
Just give her a chance.
“Your Highness!”
Feng Quan raised his voice as Li Jianting began vomiting again.
Outside, the imperial physicians had already stood up. Kong Qiu’s heart turned cold as he stumbled back a few steps, caught by Cen Yu.
“If…” Kong Qiu could not bring himself to finish.
The curtain was suddenly pulled aside. Xue Xiuzhuo stood there, breath unsteady. He had heard everything inside and understood what Kong Qiu had not said. But he was no miracle healer—there was nothing he could do.
The hall grew suffocatingly tense. Courtiers did not dare breathe. Maids hurried in and out with medicine. Feng Quan continued forcing it into Li Jianting.
Li Jianting murmured incoherently. Feng Quan could not hear her clearly, so he leaned closer until his ear nearly touched her lips.
“Failure…” Li Jianting’s lips trembled. “…at the last step.”
Feng Quan’s eyes were soaked with sweat in the dim light of the curtains. He covered his mouth and said softly, “Your Highness is a true phoenix of this world. As long as you hold on to this breath, you will surely survive disaster!”
Li Jianting’s breathing gradually steadied, as if she finally heard him. The medicine was forced down again, only to be coughed back out through her mouth and nose. The attendants panicked and knelt in tears, but Feng Quan ignored them all and continued.
Inside the prison, Liang Cuishan paced anxiously after finishing his tea. Under the brilliant stars, he barely had time to admire the night sky when hurried footsteps sounded outside.
“What is the meaning of this!” Liang Cuishan stepped forward as the Eight Great Battalion entered.
The leader raised his token. “The Ministry of Justice order clearly states the arrest of Pan Xiangjie. Yet you dare abuse your authority. Our commander acts under the Empress Dowager’s decree. Release the prisoner at once!”
Liang Cuishan knew this was the critical moment. If Han Cheng were released, Pan Xiangjie and Pan Lin would be lost too. He gritted his teeth and said, “I am acting under the Crown Prince and Grand Preceptor’s order. Without their authorization, no one is released!”
The man stepped closer. “Crown Prince? The ruler of this realm now is the Empress Dowager!”
Liang Cuishan’s heart jolted. The Eight Great Battalion pressed forward.
“You… what are you planning…” he staggered back.
“Sword and fire,” the man said coldly. “Search the courtyard.”
The soldiers drew their blades. This “search” was clearly not what it sounded like.
Liang Cuishan realized in an instant: the Dan City case had reached its breaking point. The Empress Dowager, cornered, was already moving to eliminate them all.
“I am a court official…” Liang Cuishan retreated step by step.
The officials behind him also backed away in panic. Fear of old disasters resurfaced; everyone sensed catastrophe approaching.
“General Qi is still in Qudu,” Liang Cuishan forced himself to bluff. “Do you dare act so recklessly?!”
The soldiers hesitated briefly.
Taking advantage, Liang Cuishan retreated into the prison and locked the chain from inside. Everyone rushed inward in panic.
Clang! The door rattled violently as blades struck the chains.
The man outside laughed coldly. “Dog officials! You think locking the door will save you? Set it on fire!”
Pan Xiangjie cried out in terror, “Stop! Don’t light the fire! The commander is still here!”
Liang Cuishan raised an oil lamp. “Burning you traitorous officials would be well deserved! But the fire will alert the garrison outside. Once they storm the city, you’ll all die!”
The man outside frowned. After a moment, he gestured for his men to circle around.
Liang Cuishan continued deliberately, “Think carefully. Better to abandon darkness and serve the right master. You’ll still have a future.”
The man sneered. “Then you can go down with the Crown Prince.”
At that moment, smoke-filled bundles were thrown through a small iron window. Thick smoke poured inside instantly, filling the prison as the officials coughed violently, eyes stinging with tears.
Pan Xiangjie grew increasingly certain that the Empress Dowager intended to kill him. Wearing shackles, he gripped the railing and shouted through a fit of coughing, “Chongshen, Chongshen, open it—quick, cough—open the door!”
Han Cheng was also jolted awake. He knocked over the teapot on the table, soaking his sleeve as he covered his mouth and nose.
Liang Cuishan was choked so badly he could barely stand. The officials behind him crashed into tables and chairs, everyone stumbling about inside the cell. They had only endured for a moment before scrambling onto overturned furniture to claw at the iron window, desperate for air. The moment they exposed themselves, the soldiers of the Eight Major Garrisons waiting outside thrust their blades in.
“You were a minor clerk promoted through the Gonggou case,” the man said. “The one who came down with the Jinyiwei from the Ministry of Revenue to assist in the investigation was Shen Zechuan. By this logic, you are the largest hidden agent Zhongbo placed in Qudu. Lord Pan asked you to investigate the case, yet you tampered with the account books in private collusion with Xue Yanqing to frame Lord Pan and send him to prison. You were trying to muddy the waters of Qudu, weren’t you!”
Liang Cuishan had indeed been promoted by Shen Zechuan, but he had no connection to Zhongbo. Whether stationed in Juexi or Hezhou, everything he did was official business; he had never even exchanged a letter with Shen Zechuan. Hearing such accusations, he immediately shouted, “Slander!”
The smoke was truly lethal. Pan Xiangjie had already begun pounding on the door, coughing as he begged, “Chongshen, Chongshen, open it—open the door!”
Not only Pan Xiangjie, but the officials around Liang Cuishan could no longer endure it either. Pushed to the brink with nowhere to retreat, if no change came soon, they would suffocate to death.
Several jailers pulled on the chains. Liang Cuishan could not stop them in time and watched as the prison doors were thrown open. The officials surged out in panic. He was shoved and staggered forward; before he could even call out, he heard screams from those who ran out—only to be beheaded on the spot by the Eight Major Garrisons.
“Madness…” Liang Cuishan braced himself against the wall and covered his face. “You’re all insane!”
As he spoke, a heavy force struck his back and he was kicked to the ground.
Han Cheng spat at Liang Cuishan, then covered his mouth and nose again, saying in a muffled voice, “Tonight, we are cleansing precisely you worms who cling and swarm in rebellion!”
New sprouts on the courtyard trees trembled in the wind. Loose account books scattered on the ground, pages flying everywhere. Han Cheng’s black boots snapped a pen in half and kicked aside the bodies on the ground. In the stench of smoke and blood, he dusted off his robe.
Liang Cuishan was dragged out, a blade pressed to his neck. His official hat had long fallen off, his hair disheveled, his breathing ragged.
“…The Empress Dowager killed the Crown Prince,” he said bitterly. “This world does not belong to her… you traitorous officials, you are ruining the century-old foundation of the Li clan…”
Overcome with sorrow, he could not continue.
Liang Cuishan had thought he would surely die today. Yet suddenly, a sharp whistle cut through the wind. Then the daylight at the horizon surged violently, and the glazed golden tiles of the Qudu palace began to shine. Qi Zhuyin galloped in at full speed, her horse rearing as she broke through the courtyard gate. She raised a token as she reined in.
“I act under the Crown Prince’s order,” she said as her horse landed, staring at Han Cheng. “I have come to supervise the capital garrison’s search of the city.”
Han Cheng did not believe her. He forced a smile. “The Crown Prince is in critical condition—how could he issue orders to the Great Commander? I know you mean well in trying to save people, but you must not falsely convey His Highness’s command.”
Qi Zhuyin pulled out a warrant from her sleeve and threw it into Han Cheng’s arms. “Do you recognize the Crown Prince’s seal?”
Han Cheng looked at the crooked vermilion handwriting on the order—clearly written by someone guiding the Crown Prince’s hand. He fell silent for a long moment, mind rapidly calculating the situation in Qudu. The city gates were sealed, the Eight Major Garrisons still held twenty thousand troops, while Qi Zhuyin had entered the capital lightly, with only two thousand escort soldiers outside.
If they struck now, they still had a chance of victory.
“Before I left,” Qi Zhuyin leaned forward, the jade beads at her waist swaying, “I told my father at home that if I do not return within half a month, he should send someone to retrieve me.”
Han Cheng tightened his grip on the warrant and looked into Qi Zhuyin’s eyes. “The Great Commander once said the same thing at the Southern Forest hunting grounds.”
“My head is not my own,” Qi Zhuyin smiled. “I have to be careful.”
“The Empress Dowager once overcame all opposition to grant the Great Commander her wish,” Han Cheng said with a half-smile, slipping the warrant into his sleeve. “Who would have thought it would come to this… forget it.”
Liang Cuishan collapsed to the ground, picked up his official hat, and bowed to Qi Zhuyin. “Thanks to the Great Commander’s foresight, otherwise today would have been a bloodbath!”
Qi Zhuyin did not respond. She watched Han Cheng retreat until the Eight Major Garrisons withdrew as well, then lifted her hand from the weapon at her waist.
She had no foresight at all. She was only bluffing Han Cheng.
Her expression grew slightly heavy. The twenty thousand troops of the capital garrison were indeed troublesome. The Empress Dowager had acted so boldly tonight precisely because she was certain they would hesitate and not risk Li Jianlu’s life.
Li Jianlu’s breathing had already stabilized. All eunuchs and palace maids in her hall had been arrested and imprisoned. The poisoning of the Crown Prince was no trivial matter; Xue Xiuzhuo had tried every precaution, yet still failed to prevent the Empress Dowager. The palace was beyond his reach.
Kong Qiu said outside the hall, “These eunuchs are all petty, lowly people. If they suffer grievances before their masters and are then incited, they would dare to plot the Emperor’s life. This must be thoroughly investigated. Once they have confessed everything, they should all be severely punished!”
Kong Qiu had once overseen the Ministry of Justice and deeply detested the eunuch faction such as Pan Rugu, influenced as well by Hai Liangyi’s views, harboring extreme hatred toward palace servants. After finishing his strong tea, he said to Xue Xiuzhuo, “Since the Dancheng case has produced clear culprits, once the land survey is completed, we should judge the Six Ministries according to law and see just how many are involved!”
Xue Xiuzhuo’s spirits lifted. He understood Kong Qiu intended to thoroughly purge the aristocratic families, and he nodded in agreement.
Beside them, Cen Yu seemed to have something to say, but ultimately held it back.
A battle in Qudu had just ended when Shen Zechuan, far away in Duanzhou, received the news.
It was a bright, sunny day. Ding Tao and Li Xiong sat under the corridor eaves competing to throw fruit pits into a puddle. Fei Sheng carried medicine and had no free hands, so Qiao Tianya directly grabbed the backs of their collars.
Ding Tao covered his head. “We’ll pick them up right away!”
“I’ve been watching you two for half a day,” Qiao Tianya flicked him. “Seventeen or eighteen already, Tao’er? Why do you still look like you’re nursing at the breast?”
Ding Tao still had fruit skin in his mouth, wrinkling his face. “You don’t give us any real work, so we can only sit here cracking seeds.”
“Cracking seeds,” Li Xiong added.
Qiao Tianya gave each of them a kick and ordered them to pick up the fruit pits immediately. Standing under the eaves, he noticed a guard nearby saying something. He turned to see Shen Zechuan drinking medicine, while Yao Wenyu was speaking. He nodded to the guard, signaling him to proceed.
Soon after, Yan Heru happily arrived. His clothes changed daily, always embroidered with gold ingots and coins, glittering as he walked through the courtyard like a proud peacock.
“Greetings, Commander. Congratulations on your promotion,” Yan Heru said as he climbed the steps, holding his golden abacus. He peeked inside and whispered, “How has the Lord been lately?”
Fei Sheng just came out with an empty bowl and glanced coldly at him. “Why don’t you go in and see for yourself? Hurry up, the Lord is waiting.”
Yan Heru’s dimples appeared as he stepped forward. “Of course I’m going in. I miss the Lord terribly every single day.” With a grin at Fei Sheng, he slipped past and entered.
“Lord!” Yan Heru called affectionately. “I’ve been waiting—”
Shen Zechuan’s gaze turned slightly cold as he looked at him from the window. That alone made Yan Heru swallow the rest of his words.
Yan Heru shrank back his foot and said cautiously, “Lo-Lord… are you well?”
Yao Wenyu sat by the desk drinking tea and did not look at him.
Shen Zechuan lightly lifted his folding fan. “Sit.”
Yan Heru did not dare truly sit. He was here to confess his wrongdoing. He immediately pulled a chair closer and gestured eagerly for Shen Zechuan to sit first.
It was midday. An unknown bird chirped intermittently in the branches outside. The heat made the air dry and restless, a time suited for sleep. Shen Zechuan ignored Yan Heru’s flattery and stood by the window, half in shadow. The faint breeze brushed his cheek; the agate beads at his wrist swayed lightly, like ripples stirred in spring light.
Yan Heru did not see any beauty in it. He only felt the Lord’s gaze was terrifying—just standing there made him feel as though he could barely remain upright.
Shen Zechuan… this person.
Yan Heru tried to distract himself.
Once you developed fear of him, even beauty became like a blade—the more you looked, the more frightening it became… strange indeed.
“I heard Qudu is investigating the Dancheng grain lands,” Shen Zechuan said, fingers resting on his folding fan. “Have you heard anything?”
Yan Heru had prepared for this and immediately began reporting: “I know, how could I not know? Lord, those eight-city grain depots were all a sham—the grain inside was already sold off by me, sold to Luoshan and Fanzhou, bandits love buying it.” He paused obediently, as if uncertain. “Did Cai Yu not tell you this?”
Of course Cai Yu had not told him. Cai Yu was merely working for Yan Heru in Chazhou, how would he know where the grain he handled every year actually came from? Yan Heru never revealed anything to him, always using Hezhou grain depots as cover. Cai Yu only wanted money and never dug deeper.
After all, blaming everything on a dead man was safest.
Yan Heru’s eyes curved.
Even Shen Lanzhou could not resurrect Cai Yu.
“This was my oversight,” Yan Heru said theatrically. “I forgot to inform you. Punish me, Lord. I thought it wasn’t anything important.”
At first glance, it sounded reasonable enough. But upon closer thought, it did not hold. Shen Zechuan’s control over Zhongbo relied on stabilizing grain prices; refugees from the eight cities pouring into Zhongbo meant he had to calculate remaining supplies carefully to compete with others.
Shen Zechuan seemed to be considering something. He turned back toward the window and said, “You emptied the eight-city grain depots. This year’s civil grain problem cannot be solved. The eight cities and Qudu will have to requisition grain from Juexi, Hezhou, and Huaizhou. You are holding their lifelines.”
Yan Heru thought he was being praised, but did not dare respond casually. Shen Zechuan was too cunning—there were always traps hidden in his words.
“I was just lucky,” Yan Heru said with a grin. “That fat bastard of the Xie family—Xie Er—tightened control over Juexi so much, I had to find another way.”
The eight great families had to keep balance; such profits would not easily go to Xie Hongxuan alone. The Xie family was already fat enough. The Yan family of Hezhou was different—Yan Heru was young, with no officials in the family, making him easy for aristocratic clans to manipulate. Yet he was slippery, profiting immensely in the middle, throwing scraps he did not care for to the aristocratic families while they still believed they were benefiting.
After he finished speaking, the room fell silent. He did not seem to sense the killing intent flowing beneath Shen Zechuan’s silence.
“I heard that last year the Second Master was looking for Master Yideng. Coincidentally, he was found in Hezhou last month by my men. I rushed over this time specifically to tell you this news,” Yan Heru flicked his golden abacus beads. “Do you want him, Lord?”