Tu Yao’s words hit the nail on the head. After listening, Ma Bing couldn’t help but glance at Xie Yu.
This was somewhat like condemning everyone with one broad stroke.
Xie Yu, however, remained calm. “I don’t mind, and neither will my father.”
Tu Yao had a good personal relationship with Xie Xian, so he spoke without much restraint.
Scholars, when excited, often engage in verbal duels. Don’t be fooled by Tu Yao’s scholarly and gentlemanly demeanor in public—privately, he spoke far more harshly than that!
Yet Xie Xian’s inner strength surpassed what anyone could imagine.
In his early days, when he first showed promise, many people resented him and deliberately called him names like “princess’s husband,” “a man living off his wife,” or “kept man,” trying to provoke him.
But Xie Xian was unfazed—indeed, he took pride in it.
“The princess loves my good looks; that’s my talent. If beauty can win a princess’s heart, then I can do it—can any of you?”
“Even if I end up begging tomorrow, I could still get three dishes and a soup. Can any of you do that?”
“As for such ugly faces making a fuss, they’re just plain ugly people causing trouble.”
Ma Bing: “…”
No wonder he was like that!
Back at the Kaifeng Prefecture, many people greeted Ma Bing along the way, their enthusiasm almost excessive.
Ma Bing was quite surprised.
They looked at me as if I were a savior.
Xie Yu smiled slightly. “These past few days, Doctor Wang has been developing a new herbal formula, said to be remarkably effective for clearing heat and fire. He dragged people to test it.”
The effect was indeed good, but the taste was truly hard to describe.
Thus, everyone deeply missed Ma Bing, who was still away.
The herb garden was quiet; Wang Heng and his two apprentices were out. Xie Yu explained that early that morning, a few commoners had gotten into a street brawl over words, ending up with bloody heads, and the old doctor had eagerly gone to help.
The hot water had been boiled by Wang Heng before he left. It was still slightly warm due to the hot weather.
Ma Bing went to her room to settle her luggage, while Xie Yu bent down to stir the ashes covering the charcoal in the small brazier. He gently fanned it, and dark red sparks danced to life.
The orange-red flames quickly turned into cheerful blue ones, licking the bottom of the kettle.
Soon, steam began puffing out from the spout and the gap in the lid. The water was boiling again.
Clear water poured into the teapot. After covering it for a while, light brown tea was ready.
Xie Yu was quite skilled at brewing tea. Even with an ordinary teapot and cups worth just a few coins, he somehow made the process elegant.
A breeze passed by, gently rippling the tea in the cup, faintly reflecting Xie Yu’s face and a corner of blue sky above.
He looked up, watching Ma Bing busily working inside the room, and felt a deep sense of peace.
Later, when Ma Bing came out, she carried several paper-wrapped snacks bought for her by Pei An.
Besides pastries, there were various dried fruits, honeyed preserves, and even homemade beef and mutton jerky from the Pei household—an impressive collection.
Xie Yu blinked, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu.
Once, when accompanying the emperor incognito, they had stopped by a farmer’s house for tea and encountered the male head of the household returning from work.
After a month of hard labor, he had just received his wages and eagerly bought rice, flour, oil, and salt. He even bought floral cloth for his wife, rushing in to show it to her.
Xie Yu looked at Ma Bing, then at the pastries on the table… how similar it was.
So they sat down together, having tea with the snacks.
As he picked up a piece of emerald-white jade cake, Xie Yu seemed to recall something amusing and smiled faintly.
“What’s so funny?” Ma Bing asked.
“If Young Master Pei knew his pastries ended up in my mouth,” Xie Yu teased, “he’d probably be furious enough to twist his nose.”
Ma Bing caught his implication and smiled silently, lips pressed together.
She had heard from her sister-in-law how the two brothers had been squabbling lately—those stories had been shared secretly between her and her sister-in-law, and they had laughed about them privately many times.
Men, after all, often act a bit childish.
As if by mutual agreement, neither mentioned anything related to the Pei family again.
After nibbling on a couple of pastries, Ma Bing asked, “Do you think Minister Tu’s plan will work?”
It was one thing to think about it, another to carry it out. Their opponent had risen to a capital official rank—though there might be some shady dealings involved, he was surely no pushover. Would he really fall for it so easily?
Early July was still hot, but Kaifeng was in the north. As long as it wasn’t humid, sitting under the shade of trees was quite cool.
The wind, filtered through lush branches and leaves, was soft and refreshing against their faces.
Xie Yu’s voice mingled with the rustling of the leaves, as if coming from far away.
“It’ll probably take a few days.”
The official’s mindset wasn’t hard to guess.
He wouldn’t feel genuine remorse, only cursing his bad luck.
So many people disregarded human lives—why did it have to be him they targeted?
On one side were the powerful Shen family and the royal princess; on the other, commoners whose lives were as cheap as grass. Even a fool would know whom to choose.
Isn’t self-preservation justified?
He simply hoped that Tu Yao lacked solid evidence, which led to his sense of complacency. But now that both the Kaifeng Prefecture and the Ministry of Justice have set their sights on him… to put it bluntly, once they target someone, no one is beyond their reach.
A few days apart hadn’t changed the rose garden—its flowers still bloomed in full glory, filling the air with a soft fragrance.
Ma Bing took a deep breath. “He won’t admit guilt until he sees the coffin.”
After all, the case had already been closed once—everyone would cling to a glimmer of hope.
What if this is just a bluff?
What if new evidence never surfaces?
What if he simply drags things out—this could go on forever.
If he admits guilt now, all his previous efforts would be wasted, and his descendants would suffer too.
But if he stubbornly holds on, maybe he could still survive this.
Xie Yu nodded. “So Minister Tu went to see the emperor and discussed the case with officials from the Ministry of Justice. After comparing the four old cases with this one, they found many similarities. The decision has been made to reinvestigate.”
The emperor had never anticipated that a simple sermon at Fuyun Temple would uncover a murder case, especially one so closely linked to the imperial son-in-law, Shen Xuan.
But since it involved Princess Shouyang’s consort, well—then we shall investigate it thoroughly.
With the emperor’s approval, the Ministry of Justice dispatched messengers with warrants to summon the victims’ families to the capital for questioning.
Since the case had gone unsolved for years, the families of the deceased were undoubtedly filled with resentment. As long as local officials hadn’t killed them to silence them, there must be more to uncover.
Of course, if they had been silenced, that would open up even more avenues for investigation.
Though the official outwardly denied everything, he must be feeling some inner turmoil.
He would be afraid, anxious, worried that at any moment the sword hanging above him might fall. But now that the court had targeted the Shen family and Shen Xuan, he wouldn’t dare seek help, left only to endure the pressure alone.
When so many pressures converge on one person, the weight is unimaginable to outsiders.
He wouldn’t last long.
And once he learns that the court has reopened the investigation, his fear would only multiply.
Once his mind falters, he will inevitably slip up.
Ma Bing vaguely guessed the emperor’s intentions.
“Does the emperor intend to use this to suppress the Shen clan of Ludong?”
Over several dynasties, powerful aristocratic families across the land had grown to the point of becoming uncontrollable. They hoarded land, built manors, even established their own laws, and amassed enormous wealth—almost like independent kingdoms within the kingdom.
Since the founding of the Dulu dynasty, successive emperors had sought to address this issue.
But such deep-rooted problems couldn’t be solved overnight—they were extremely thorny.
Yet, after generations of gradual erosion and encroachment, the power of the aristocracy had already greatly diminished.
Even so, a rotten ship still had its nails—caution was still necessary.
Thus, the emperor would not miss this opportunity to strike against the Shen family.
He might even use this case to target other aristocratic families.
But what if neither of those paths worked?
Or, what if, when necessary, the Shen family decided to sacrifice a pawn and abandon Shen Xuan outright…
Several rose petals floated with the wind, drifting over the wall and into the distance.
Xie Yu continued, “Therefore, the emperor also sent an emissary to Prince Shun’s Mansion.”
If Shen Xuan was indeed responsible for those crimes, even if Princess Shouyang wasn’t directly involved, she couldn’t possibly have been unaware.
If Princess Shouyang could be persuaded, then an inside-out attack could be launched to capture the culprit.
Even among aristocratic families, unity was an illusion. Once a crack was opened, the entire structure could collapse like a breached dam.
“A negotiator?”
Ma Bing paused mid-sip. In a flash, a particular person crossed her mind.
“Her Highness Princess Ningde has arrived!”
When Princess Ningde’s entourage reached the gates of Prince Shun’s Mansion, the entire mansion was thrown into confusion.
Since the current emperor ascended the throne, Prince Shun’s mansion had gradually fallen into decline, far from its former glory.
Even the former retainers and their families who had once served Prince Shun had either died, scattered, or distanced themselves in fear.
Prince Shun’s mansion hadn’t received any distinguished guests for a long time. When the announcement came, the entire mansion was thrown into chaos.
Prince Shun had fallen ill, and the prince’s consort was out of favor. Years of hardship had worn away her spirit, and she only wished to survive the rest of her days in peace. Thus, Princess Shouyang, who had recently been ordered to attend to him, had seized the opportunity, taking control of the mansion.
Now, with an important guest arriving, the gatekeeper directly sent someone to report to Princess Shouyang.
“What does she want? I won’t see her!”
Princess Shouyang was already in a foul mood. Upon hearing the news, her temper flared.
The servant hesitated, about to speak, when a dignified and pleasant female voice rang out from outside.
“Under the emperor’s domain, where may I not go?”
Princess Ningde didn’t care whether Prince Shun’s mansion welcomed her properly. She entered directly in her palanquin.
Princess Shouyang didn’t rise, merely giving her a cold smile. “So, just because your brother became emperor, you think you’re an empress too?”
It was unclear when this habit had developed, but every time she saw Princess Ningde, she felt an urge to provoke her, even if she gained nothing from it.
“Bold!” cried an attendant.
But Princess Ningde wasn’t angry at all. She merely said lightly, “The barking of a stray dog only brings laughter.”
Princess Shouyang pressed her lips tightly together and said nothing.
Princess Ningde stopped five steps away from her, slightly looking down at her younger sister whom she hadn’t seen in years, and sneered, “If it weren’t for the emperor’s command, do you think I’d come here out of my own will?”
Verbal duels—wasn’t she capable of that too?
Her attendant then announced, “Princess Shouyang, quickly kneel and receive the imperial decree!”
Princess Shouyang gritted her teeth but eventually performed the proper bow.
Yet there was no formal imperial decree—only a verbal command, casually delivered, instructing everyone to obey Princess Ningde’s orders.
Princess Shouyang’s face flushed with shame and anger, but she still kowtowed. “I receive the decree.”
Without hesitation, Princess Ningde took the main seat that Princess Shouyang had occupied. She spoke bluntly, “Regarding Consort Shen Xuan, you must already know. My elder brother sent me here to ask—will you testify against him?”
Princess Shouyang chose not to engage in verbal sparring anymore. Pretending not to hear, she remained silent.
Princess Ningde observed her for a while, then shook her head. “You were foolish before marriage, but I never expected you to become even more foolish after.”
Verbal jabs—she could do that too.
Her attendant then said, “Princess Shouyang, quickly kneel to receive the decree!”
Princess Shouyang’s face turned purple with anger and shame, but she still kowtowed. “I receive the decree.”
Princess Ningde unceremoniously took over the main seat that Princess Shouyang had occupied. She got straight to the point, “Regarding Consort Shen Xuan, you must already know. My elder brother sent me here to ask—will you testify against him?”
Princess Shouyang chose not to engage in verbal sparring anymore. Pretending not to hear, she remained silent.
Princess Ningde studied her for a moment, then shook her head. “You were foolish before marriage, but I never expected you to become even more foolish after.”
Her words ignited Princess Shouyang’s anger. “If you’re here just to show off your power, then go ahead and kill me! Fabricated charges—you can always find an excuse!”
Princess Ningde looked at her with a hint of surprise. “Do you really think so highly of yourself?”
What benefit would I gain from showing off before you?
I’d rather enjoy a game of polo.
Nothing is more devastating than realizing, too late, that the so-called rival never even considered you a competitor.
That was exactly how Princess Shouyang felt now.
Princess Ningde said slowly, “I know you’ve always disliked me, but I’ve always found it puzzling. I’ve never wronged you. In fact, you and your brother have repeatedly targeted me. They say winners and losers are determined by fate—after my elder brother ascended the throne, he didn’t pursue you relentlessly. Where does all this resentment come from?”
One had spent half a lifetime consumed by anger, nearly dying from it;
The other had harbored resentment in Ludong, imagining enemies where there were none…
It was utterly absurd!
“If it weren’t for you, Father wouldn’t have ignored me; if it weren’t for you two, he wouldn’t have forced me into this marriage…” Recalling the past, Princess Shouyang’s voice trembled with rage.
Princess Ningde didn’t rush to explain—perhaps she simply didn’t bother.
She merely watched silently as the other vented her anger, then asked lightly, “Ask yourself honestly—was it really like that?”
These words pierced Princess Shouyang’s heart like an arrow, draining the color from her face.
Was it really like that?
Princess Ningde continued slowly, “In the imperial family, there are no fathers and sons. Princes are not rare, and princesses are even less valuable.
You’re too proud and too naive. You always think parents are naturally supposed to love their children. But let me tell you—how many things in this world are truly “supposed” to be?
Men don’t carry a child for ten months. In the imperial family, perhaps we are nothing more than the emperor’s fleeting whims. Whether there are many or few, what difference does it make?
Even familial affection is a transaction. How much you invest determines how much you can expect in return…”
The world said that during the late emperor’s reign, Princess Ningde was the most beloved daughter. But most people, like Princess Shouyang, only saw the outcome, deliberately ignoring the process.
Even her own full-blooded brother might never imagine how much she had sacrificed for that so-called “favor.”
Because she was a princess, naturally inferior to princes, in the emperor’s eyes, she was merely a tool to be used for political alliances.
A princess was no more than a pet.
No, even less than a pet—before the royal family needed to arrange a marriage, forgotten princesses weren’t even worth that much.
So Princess Ningde spent a long time first becoming like a pet, then gradually learning to be human.
It was a difficult method, but it worked.
Unfortunately, most people in the world never understood this principle.
“Don’t say anymore! Don’t say anything else!” Princess Shouyang covered her ears and screamed. “I won’t believe it!”
Didn’t believe it?
If that were true, why wouldn’t she dare to listen?
Princess Ningde looked at her, suddenly feeling a bit of pity.
A little pity—but not much.
Didn’t Princess Shouyang understand?
Perhaps she did. Or perhaps she understood but was simply too foolish—born into royalty yet still craving familial love. It was utterly foolish.
One should never expect too much from life. Without expectations, there’s no disappointment.
Without disappointment, one wouldn’t end up like Princess Shouyang—dying without ever daring or wanting to hate the late emperor, only redirecting her unfulfilled resentment onto others.
Didn’t she understand this?
Perhaps.
But she chose self-deception.
Princess Shouyang created a dream for herself—a dream where her father was loving, only misguided by others’ influence, hence not showing her affection.
For years, no one had ever torn away that last veil of illusion as bluntly as Princess Ningde did.
Looking at Princess Shouyang collapsed on the ground, Princess Ningde sighed and shook her head. “You’re truly foolish.”
In the end, it was foolishness.
Foolishness in craving familial love while born into royalty, and even believing the emperor could be a good father.
Looking at the tearful Princess Shouyang, Princess Ningde remained expressionless as she grabbed her arm, forcibly pulling her hands away from her ears, almost lifting her entirely off the ground.
“Foolish little sister, now—your dream is over.”
Princess Shouyang stiffened, then let out a scream that sounded almost inhuman.
It seemed as if she had poured all her strength into that scream. Afterward, her entire body seemed to collapse, as if her bones had been pulled out, and she slumped down.
Princess Ningde looked at her with an indifferent expression. “Relying on men is the most unreliable thing in the world. If you come to your senses now, I will plead with my elder brother to preserve your dignity.”
If even your own biological father couldn’t be trusted, how could you ever expect warmth from a man with no blood relation to you?
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