On a summer afternoon, a gust of hot wind swept through, causing the wind chimes hanging under the eaves to jingle softly.
“Actually, losing a hand isn’t really that big of a deal,” Cheng Jiao-niang suddenly remarked.
It wasn’t a response to Zhou Fu’s earlier words – just an abrupt, seemingly out-of-context statement.
Zhou Fu was taken aback, then frowned.
Back when Cheng Jiao-niang’s father had left, he hadn’t taken Cheng Si-lang along so that his injured hand could continue to be treated.
Was she implying that she regretted letting Cheng Si-lang stay behind?
Zhou Fu abruptly pushed himself up halfway from where he lay.
“What do you mean, ‘not a big deal’?” he snapped, his brows furrowed sternly. “If one can be whole, why should they lose a hand? Just because tomorrow is uncertain, should we stop living today?”
Cheng Jiao-niang smiled faintly but said nothing.
Zhou Fu stood up.
If… She was actually saying if!
There are no ifs in this world! That’s what she should be saying!
The old her would never have spoken like this. She would only have stared blankly and said it was a trivial matter, handing out pastries and telling everyone to go play.
Those annoying gestures, those infuriating words – now, they felt incredibly, painfully nostalgic.
He would rather she continue to act and speak that way than see her say if, see her regret, see her blame herself.
“Cheng Jiao-niang.” He stopped pacing and half-knelt down again, looking at her, his words gritted through clenched teeth. “Cheng Si-lang’s death has nothing to do with you!”
“Nothing to do with me?” Cheng Jiao-niang replied.
Zhou Fu glared at her.
“Yes! Because you’re his sister, because you can bring the dead back to life, because they wouldn’t let you save that bastard – all of this is because of you. But was any of it your choice? Did you decide to be his sister? Could you choose not to be who you are?”
He shouted in furious exasperation, then rose and began pacing back and forth again.
“You’re a victim. We’re all victims. Why should you blame yourself?”
“You didn’t consider every detail. Cheng Si-lang misjudged people. Does that make it your crime? Does that mean you deserved to die or be plotted against?”
“What kind of logic is that?! The ones who killed, the ones who set the trap – they’re the guilty ones! Qin Hu, the Qin family, and all those other people we don’t even know who tried to stop the imperial heir adoption!”
“And here you are, blaming and resenting yourself instead. What you’re doing only pains those who care about you and pleases your enemies.”
Cheng Jiao-niang looked at him.
Zhou Fu stared back, his face tense.
“In the past,” he continued, “because you were a fool, I bullied you. You should resent me, not resent yourself for being a fool. You should hate the wrongdoer, not the unlucky one who was bullied. Just because of certain circumstances, it doesn’t mean they deserve to be unlucky or bullied.”
Cheng Jiao-niang pressed her lips into a faint smile, lowered her head, then lifted it again and reached out to tug gently at his sleeve.
“Sit,” she said.
Zhou Fu’s legs gave way, and he plopped down with a soft thud.
“I’m fine. It’s just that I was thinking – that saying really is true,” Cheng Jiao-niang remarked.
“What saying?” Zhou Fu asked.
Cheng Jiao-niang turned her gaze toward the courtyard.
“Who says you can have whatever you want? Who says that if you strive and struggle, you’re entitled to success, fame, or dominance? Who says things will go exactly as you wish?”
“You’ve worked hard, you’ve struggled – but what about others? Haven’t they struggled and worked hard too? Why should you succeed and others fail? You are who you are; they are who they are. Where is the ‘should’ in any of this?”
“What?” Zhou Fu frowned. “Are you saying that their scheming against you and harming Cheng Si-lang was justified?”
“From their perspective, of course it was justified,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied. “This time, their clear goal was to deal with Duke Jin’an – to kill him. To succeed, they had to remove any obstacles in their way. I was the biggest obstacle. To stop me, they needed to restrain me. To restrain me, they took Fourth Brother hostage. The whole plan was thorough, seamless…”
This is insane!
Zhou Fu stood up again, furious.
“Fine, then! I’ll go to the Qin family right now, kneel before Qin Hu, and express my admiration – admiration for his brilliant move!” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Admiration for him killing Cheng Si-lang.”
The last words were gritted out through clenched teeth.
Silence fell in the room for a moment.
“He didn’t kill him,” Cheng Jiao-niang said.
Zhou Fu froze.
“I didn’t know! I’m telling you I didn’t know – do you believe me or not?”
“If I had known, if I had known he’d taken Cheng Si-lang hostage, I would never have… Liu-lang, you know – if that had been the case, I definitely wouldn’t have…”
Qin Hu’s voice echoed in his ears once more.
“Do you believe him?” Zhou Fu asked through gritted teeth.
“Yes,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied.
Zhou Fu braced his hands against the floor, pushing himself up slightly.
“You believe whatever anyone tells you?” he said. “Since when do I not know you?”
Cheng Jiao-niang looked at him, pressed her lips into another faint smile, and said nothing.
Zhou Fu let out a heavy sigh.
“He must have known about it,” he said. “The moment he invited you out – the moment he kept it from you – everything was already set in motion.”
Cheng Jiao-niang remained silent.
Yes, that moment…
Who could have known what awaited after that moment…
Truly, the ways of heaven are unpredictable.
“What do you plan to do now?” Zhou Fu asked.
“First, lay Fourth Brother to rest,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied. “I owe his parents an explanation.”
“Are you returning to Jiang-zhou?” Zhou Fu pressed.
Cheng Jiao-niang did not answer.
Return to Jiang–zhou…
Because everyone involved in the case had died – the owner of Desheng Pavilion spent a fortune, Madam Mo from the Music Bureau was exiled to the army, and aside from these two who cried injustice and suffered misfortune – Cheng Si-lang’s murder case was ultimately classified as a crime of passion and left unresolved.
“Look, this matter is definitely not over yet.”
“Back then, when just the sworn brothers died, she wouldn’t let it go without an explanation. Now it’s her own cousin – how could it end here?”
“Hurry, hurry. This time we need to pick a good spot early…”
“Prepare more jars, send more people. When the time comes, surround the place where they scatter the wine and collect it all…”
Everyone in the capital was buzzing with excitement, eagerly awaiting another grand spectacle. But they waited and waited – and nothing happened. It wasn’t until someone noticed a simple, unmarked tombstone quietly appearing beside the Maoyuan Mountain gravesite.
So he was buried just like that?
The whole capital was instantly deflated.
“Seriously? I even skipped the burial of Prince Ping, afraid I’d lose my spot…”
“Exactly. If I’d known, I would have gone to see Prince Ping – or should we call him Prince Huaihui now…”
“But then again, after such a disgraceful affair, what kind of spectacle could there even be? The shame is enough. Burying him quietly was probably for the best.”
“A disgrace? It truly is embarrassing.”
Chen Shao poured tea for Old Master Chen as he spoke.
“To be so blatantly outmaneuvered, yet unable to voice the bitterness – it’s humiliating.”
“But will she really let this matter end here?” Chen Shao asked, frowning.
This girl’s actions were always hard to predict, and she was certainly not the type to simply accept a loss.
“Of course she won’t,” Old Master Chen replied with a chuckle. He pointed outside. “That tombstone is unmarked again. Let’s see who will fall next and add ink or color to it.”
As he spoke, he turned his gaze back to his own screen.
And on this screen, who knew how many new circles and dots would soon appear.
“Was this matter really the Qin family’s doing alone?” Old Master Chen asked.
Chen Shao fell silent for a moment, thinking of what his wife had recounted after confronting Madam Qin. Madam Qin had said nothing in her defense, only stating, The clear will remain clear.
“The Qin family… shouldn’t be the kind to repay kindness with betrayal,” he said.
Old Master Chen let out a slow breath.
“It’s not exactly repaying kindness with betrayal,” he said. “Sometimes it’s simply the helplessness that comes when principles diverge and paths no longer align.”
The Qin family firmly opposed the imperial adoption. Among the scholar-officials, they had allied with a faction to submit memorials impeaching and refuting the proposal, standing in opposition to supporters like Zhang Jiangzhou, who advocated for the adoption.
Chen Shao remained silent, lost in thought.
“Have you decided what you will do?” Old Master Chen pressed.
Chen Shao looked up at his father and nodded slowly.
…
“Your Majesty, Your Majesty!”
Consort An’s voice rang out once again in the Emperor’s resting chamber.
“Have you heard? Did you know? Something terrible has happened!”
The Empress glanced at her.
“If I had to wait for you to tell me about matters, that would truly be something terrible,” she said calmly.
Consort An stepped forward and half-knelt.
“Your Majesty, what are we to do?” she pleaded. “Prince Qing is still going to become Crown Prince.”
The Empress smiled faintly.
“What are we to do? Endure,” she replied. “They are counting on Prince Qing to produce an heir. If they can endure the wait, so can I.”
Meanwhile, in the court assembly, Prince Qing made his first appearance. A high-ranking eunuch proclaimed the imperial edict appointing Prince Qing as Crown Prince. Then, supported by several attendants, Prince Qing managed to complete the Crown Prince rituals as best he could. Following this, the Empress Dowager personally announced the four Regent Ministers.
“Therefore, for now, the throne will not be abdicated internally. Prince Qing is appointed Crown Prince. He will ascend as emperor only after a prince is born in the future.”
Gao Lingjun stood up and bowed respectfully toward Chen Shao.
“In the coming years, perhaps over a decade, we shall have to rely on your hard work, Master Chen.”
Chen Shao let out a soft, dismissive laugh and returned the gesture.
“I do not deserve your thanks, Master Gao. My efforts are not for your sake,” he stated.
Gao Lingjun smiled, unbothered.
“I just didn’t expect Zhang Jiangzhou to be so thick-skinned, remaining in court instead of indignantly submitting his resignation and leaving,” he remarked, casually yet pointedly.
“On that point, you would understand better, wouldn’t you, Master Gao?” Chen Shao replied, his expression turning stern. “Master Gao, the matter is settled. When do you plan to depart?”
Gao Lingjun smiled.
“Naturally, I will wait until after His Highness the Crown Prince selects his consort and marries,” he said, then added with a hint of sentiment, “After all, this is the Empress Dowager’s first imperial grandson getting married. If His Majesty were to wake and see it, he would surely be pleased.”
Pleased? If anything, it would be the opposite. A perfectly functioning court had ended up in such chaos – future history books would undoubtedly mock this era.
But what else could be done? If they had allowed the imperial adoption to proceed, who knew what greater turmoil might have erupted?
The only consolation now was that the Crown Prince was still capable of fathering children. If he married quickly and had a son next year or the year after – a bright, healthy prince – then Prince Qing’s purpose as Crown Prince would be fulfilled.
When Chen Shao returned home, he saw a carriage just pulling away.
He couldn’t help but pause and watch it disappear into the distance.
“Master?” the gatekeeper reminded softly.
Chen Shao finally withdrew his gaze and entered the house.
“Did Shi’ba-niang come by?” he asked.
Madam Chen nodded.
“Did she say when she’s leaving?” Chen Shao inquired.
Since their last disagreement, Chen Shi’ba-niang had not visited again.
“In the next day or two,” Madam Chen replied with a sigh, looking at her husband. “She’s still just a child, after all. As her father, don’t hold it against her.”
“I’m not the one holding on. It’s her who can’t let go,” Chen Shao said.
Madam Chen smiled and pushed a set of clothes toward him.
“You two are just as stubborn as each other – both soft-hearted but neither willing to admit it,” she said lightly. “Look, she made this for you.”
Looking at the clothes laid before him, a faint smile flickered across Chen Shao’s face, but he quickly restrained it.
“I don’t lack for clothes to wear,” he said.
Madam Chen shot him a look and pushed the garments closer.
“Go try them on,” she urged.
Meanwhile, Chen Shi’ba-niang lowered the carriage curtain and turned away from the view outside.
“Miss, should we… go back once more?” a maid ventured softly. “We could say we forgot something.”
It would also be a chance to see Chen Shao.
Chen Shi’ba-niang shook her head.
“We’ll see him on the day of my departure,” she said. “These days, with the transition between old and new officials in the court, personnel changes, and the busy court affairs, Father is already exhausted. Let him rest.”
The maid acknowledged the response and dared not say more.
Chen Shi’ba-niang suddenly thought of something and lifted the carriage curtain once more.
“Pass by Prince Ping’s residence,” she instructed.
The coachman acknowledged and urged the horses onward.
Prince Huaihui had already been buried, and the plaque bearing “Prince Ping’s Residence” had been taken down. Government officials were now inside, tidying and sealing up the premises.
“Would you like to step down?” the maid asked.
Chen Shi’ba-niang held the curtain open, her eyes fixed on the estate, then shook her head gently.
“Let’s go,” she said.
Just as she was about to lower the curtain, she noticed someone hurrying down from the entrance of the prince’s residence.
“Is it the Lady of the Chen family?” the man asked, bowing respectfully.
The maid confirmed it was.
“My master has a matter he wishes to entrust to you,” the man said, handing over a name card with a respectful bow.
Your master? Entrust something to me?
Chen Shi’ba-niang frowned slightly, then reached out and took the name card.
Gao Lingjun.
Gao Lingjun? Wants to see me?
A look of confusion crossed Chen Shi’ba-niang’s face as she stared at the name card in her hand. Her mind drifted to the image of that elderly man with graying hair and beard, weeping like a child in Prince Ping’s study.
Gao Lingjun hadn’t been that old before, but it seemed that after Prince Ping’s death, his hair had turned white overnight.
Entrust something to me… What could it be?
Her expression shifted briefly before she finally accepted the name card and lowered the carriage curtain.
The carriage slowly rolled away.
