The next morning, not long after Quan Heng got out of bed, Fendai brought in her breakfast.
Quan Heng glanced at it—it was indeed all her favorite dishes, but with so much weighing on her heart, she simply had no appetite.
Suddenly, a thought struck her. As she picked up the bowl of lean pork and vegetable porridge, her hand trembled, and she deliberately dropped the porcelain bowl, shattering it completely.
Fendai was shocked. “Miss Gu, are you burned?”
Quan Heng shook her head. “I’m fine.”
She then squatted down and began picking up the broken pieces. Fendai hurriedly tried to stop her. “Miss, let this servant do it! There’s no need for you to dirty your hands.”
Quan Heng sighed. “It’s fine. I’m not so delicate. I can still pick up a few shards.”
Taking advantage of Fendai’s distraction, she deliberately cut her finger on a shard of porcelain. In an instant, blood welled up.
Fendai panicked. “Miss! You’ve cut yourself! Please don’t touch it anymore!”
As she spoke, she turned and ran out the door. “I’ll fetch some medicine for you. Please wait right here.”
Watching her hurry off, Quan Heng’s eyes narrowed. She secretly hid one piece of the broken porcelain in a concealed spot, making sure it wouldn’t be discovered.
A short while later, Fendai returned, worry written all over her face. “Miss, let me apply some medicine and wrap it up for you. For the next few days, you mustn’t let it touch water.”
Quan Heng nodded. “Alright. I’ll remember.”
As she watched Fendai dressing her wound, her thoughts had long since drifted away.
She didn’t know how her father and mother were doing now. Since Brother Ah Zheng said they’d already been rescued and settled somewhere, they likely weren’t in danger anymore.
But the one who used to laugh and chatter, always at her side—Ziyun—she would never see again.
Since Wen Zheng dared to treat her this way, she would make him pay.
***
Wen Zheng had been locked in the dungeon for two days now.
The injuries he’d sustained were becoming increasingly painful.
Last night, he’d fallen into a daze and even developed a fever. Fortunately, years of martial training had given him a decent constitution, and he managed to pull through.
Perhaps under the emperor’s orders, the people in the dungeon looked at him without much kindness.
At this moment, the jailer brought him food. Wen Zheng lifted the lid of the dishes, and a strong stench of spoiled food assaulted his nose.
“What’s the meaning of this? You expect me to eat this?”
Seeing his anger, the jailer sneered.
“Your Highness the Crown Prince, you’ve fallen out of favor now. You should be glad you’re still getting any food at all—yet you’re still being picky?”
The jailer spread his hands and sighed in mock sympathy. “You’re a discarded piece now. The Third Prince is the emperor’s favorite. If you ask me, the position of Crown Prince is about to change hands.”
Wen Zheng let out a cold laugh.
That third brother of his had always been a sycophant, skilled in flattery and opportunism.
Back when their mother was alive, the Third Prince’s mother was just a low-ranking concubine, constantly caught between the empress and the favored consort, unable to gain footing.
Even then, the Third Prince would frequently come to curry favor with Wen Zheng, despite often being shut out.
After the empress died and the consort fell from favor, the emperor grew disillusioned, and the Third Prince’s mother took advantage of the situation. She was made empress and moved into the Central Palace.
That made the Third Prince a legitimate heir, and ever since, he acted like an equal—no longer the obsequious boy he once was.
Over the years, he’d catered to the emperor’s every preference, keeping him pleased. No wonder the emperor now favored him.
If Wen Zheng guessed right, the beautiful women he’d been seeing in Yangxin Hall lately were probably gifts from the Third Prince.
As a prince, to constantly deal in such dirty tricks—Wen Zheng truly looked down on him.
Still, the jailer wasn’t wrong. If something happened to him, and the second prince was crippled, the position of crown prince might very well fall to the Third Prince.
Pulling himself from his thoughts, Wen Zheng curled his lips slightly.
But now, none of that mattered. The most urgent thing was figuring out how to escape from the dungeon.
Wen Zheng looked up at the jailer, noting the calluses on his hands, the deep wrinkles on his face, and the yellowed undershirt peeking from his worn clothes—clearly not someone well-off.
Moreover, a ring of keys hung at his waist—likely the ones for the prison cells.
“You make a good point,” Wen Zheng said. “Now that I’ve been thrown into the dungeon by Royal Father, the Third Prince certainly is basking in favor. But I’m still the late empress’s son, still the crown prince. Royal Father hasn’t issued any edict to depose me. Isn’t it a bit premature for you to draw conclusions?”
At this, the jailer’s expression changed. His smugness vanished, and he looked uncomfortable.
“That’s true. Your Highness is generous—this lowly one misspoke. Please forgive me.”
Wen Zheng raised an eyebrow and waved it off. “It’s fine. But I do need your help with something.”
The jailer tensed. “What is it?”
Wen Zheng smiled and pulled out a pouch of silver from his robes, tossing it lightly in his hand. “I’ve never eaten food this bad before. Just bring me something with meat. This silver is your reward.”
The jailer’s eyes lit up. “That’s no problem at all! I’ll get it for you right away!”
Wen Zheng glanced at him sideways and teased, “So eager? The silver is still in my hand. Don’t you want it?”
The jailer chuckled and leaned closer. “I forgot. Please give it to me.”
“You’re too far,” Wen Zheng said. “Come a bit closer.”
Excited, the jailer approached the cell, stretching his hands inside.
Wen Zheng knew the moment had come. He seized the man’s hands and yanked hard. The jailer slammed into the bars, head first.
In a flash, Wen Zheng delivered a chopping blow to his neck, knocking him out cold before he could make a sound.
He then took the keys from the jailer’s waist and unlocked the door, making a swift escape.
Along the way, several sharp-eyed guards spotted him, but Wen Zheng showed no mercy, knocking each of them unconscious.
He had no choice. His father’s thoughts were too unpredictable now—and his suspicion toward Wen Zheng had already begun. He had to escape to protect himself. Otherwise, he’d die quietly in that cell.
Wen Zheng made his way to the manor where Quan Heng was staying. Injured and slow, he didn’t arrive until dusk.
He hadn’t eaten in almost a full day and night, and from blood loss, his head was spinning. As soon as he stepped into the courtyard, his legs nearly gave out.
Forcing himself upright, he knocked on Quan Heng’s door. “Ah Heng, it’s me. I’m back. Can I come in?”
No answer. Wen Zheng figured she was still angry and didn’t say much more. He simply pushed the door open himself.
What he saw next was Quan Heng sitting at the edge of the bed, staring at him with eyes full of hatred.
Wen Zheng’s heart skipped a beat.
“Ah Heng, what’s wrong?”
She saw the blood all over him and the pallor of his face. Despite the brief flash of pain and pity, it was quickly buried beneath overwhelming hatred.
Ignoring his injuries, she spoke coldly, “Wen Zheng, I want to ask you something. About my Yiniang’s death—do you have anything to say?”
Wen Zheng looked confused. “Your Yiniang’s death? Wasn’t it your legal mother and sister’s doing?”
Quan Heng let out a cold laugh. “I fear there’s more to it than just that.”
Wen Zheng didn’t understand and staggered a step toward her. “Ah Heng, what’s going on? Where did you hear this? Why are you so angry?”
He reached out and took her hand, trying to soothe her. “I know your Yiniang’s death is a painful memory, but the revenge has already been taken. Let’s look forward and not dwell on the past, alright?”
Quan Heng suddenly jerked her hand away and raised her voice. “Just answer me—why did you fall off that cliff in Changle County back then? Was it because the emperor sent you to suppress bandits there?”
In that moment, memories long buried in Wen Zheng’s heart suddenly stirred awake. “There was something like that… I was being hunted over there and fell off a cliff—but how do you know about all this?”
Quan Heng let out a bitter, miserable laugh. “Let me ask you again—when you went to suppress the bandits back then, did you set a fire? Do you know that fire drove those mountain bandits to desperation, which is why they came down the mountain to commit atrocities—to kill, burn, and plunder! It was because of that they crossed paths with my Yiniang, and she was brutally murdered!”
Seeing tears fall one by one from Quan Heng’s eyes, Wen Zheng’s heart suddenly ached.
He hurried to explain, “There was indeed a fire, but I wasn’t the one who set it. There was a traitor among my people. It was that traitor who sold out my whereabouts—that’s how I was ambushed! Ah Heng, can’t you believe me?”
Quan Heng gave him a hard shove. “Even now, you still think you did nothing wrong! It’s always someone else’s fault, isn’t it? Wen Zheng gets to sit high up and enjoy glory and riches, and the lives of others mean nothing to you—am I right?!”
The shove made Wen Zheng stumble back several steps, pain flashing across his face. He barely caught hold of the bedrail to steady himself.
“Ah Heng, every word I say is true. I don’t know who told you all these unfounded accusations, but that fire—really—it wasn’t me!”
Tears slid down Quan Heng’s cheeks, past her lips. She tasted the salty, bitter sting on her tongue, but in this moment, she had no will to wipe them away.
She reached into her sleeve and pulled out Ziyun’s keepsake, flinging it onto the table. “Then tell me—did the entire Yongning Marquis Manor get thrown into prison? Were they ambushed while trying to escape? Has my Ziyun… already died?!”
Wen Zheng looked down at the blood-soaked pouch on the table, heart shaken.
It really was Ziyun’s. That day, to protect the remaining members of the Marquis Manor, he had no choice but to abandon the rescue attempt.
Considering the height she’d fallen from, it was unlikely she had survived.
But where had Ah Heng gotten this item? Who had given it to her?
“Ah Heng, listen to me—the people from the Marquis Manor are safe. They’ve already escaped and, for now, are out of danger.”
Quan Heng sneered. “Yes, they were lucky enough to escape your grasp. And you’re right—they’ll never have to fear being killed by you again.”
In that moment, all reason had left Quan Heng. Her heart hardened. She reached under her pillow and grasped the shard of porcelain she’d hidden that morning.
“Because today, I’m going to kill you! For Ziyun, for my Yiniang, and for everyone who died at your hands!”
As soon as she said it, she lunged at Wen Zheng with the shard in hand, aiming it straight at him.
