Chapter 10: Is Killing a Woman That Difficult?

He Jianzhong never imagined that Madame Liu would be so desperate!

Was the Princess of Yongjia just any ordinary princess? Certainly not! She was the apple of the late Emperor’s eye, a member of the royal bloodline, and even explicitly mentioned in the late Emperor’s last testament! To conspire to murder her was to commit treason against one's superiors—it was equivalent to rebellion! If word of this reached the imperial court, he wouldn't even need the Emperor to execute him; the Marquis of Guangling would surely destroy him first.

Only after hearing the steward's report did He Jianzhong stabilize his racing thoughts. Like a man whose soul had suddenly returned to his body, he scrambled to change his clothes. The Marquis of Guangling’s wrath was terrifying, but it paled in comparison to the consequences if that petition reached the court. With trembling hands, he adjusted his cap and belt, then hurried out of the house in long strides.

"Look at the fine mess you've made!"

The moment he stepped into the courtyard of the Marquis of Guangling, he heard the roar. Knowing that Zhang Shaode had already arrived, He Jianzhong quickened his pace. As he crossed the threshold, he collided with Zhang Shaode, who was being pushed out. A jade cup fell to the floor and shattered into pieces. The two in-laws hurriedly helped each other stand upright, standing side by side like quails.

The Marquis of Guangling circled out from behind his desk, his face contorted with rage. "Madame Liu was involved in this. You both knew she held such a damning piece of leverage over us, yet you still dared to hand her over to the authorities? You two pig-headed fools! You only had eyes for yourselves—did you not once consider me?!"

The two men dropped to their knees. He Jianzhong pleaded, "But she is suspected of murdering my son! How could I let her live?"

Zhang Shaode added, "My daughter also died in the He household; I cannot let the truth remain hidden!"

"If the evidence was so conclusive, why not just silence her within your own walls?!" The Marquis’s eyes flashed with murderous intent. "Is it really so hard to kill a woman?"

The two men on the floor remained speechless.

***

"Father!" The heir to the Marquis, Du Yu, walked in. After glancing around the room, he leaned toward his father. "The Prince has sent someone. He requests that Father go to the Prince’s residence immediately!"

The Marquis froze. "He has heard about it too?"

The color drained further from the faces of He and Zhang. If the heir had to report it personally, this "Prince" could only be the Prince of Jingyang.

Du Yu looked anxious. "Earlier, when I went to the Shuntian Prefecture to handle the aftermath, I happened to run into the Prince while he was out buying snacks. I don't know if he overheard anything!"

The Marquis swallowed hard. He paced back and forth twice, wiped the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief, and then turned back, glaring at the two men on the floor. He threw the handkerchief into a copper basin with force. "Go to the authorities immediately and withdraw the complaint! Bring her back to the estate to deal with her!"

He then glared at Zhang Shaode. "The investigation into Wei Zhang must continue! Since He Xu is dead, you two will handle it! If you fail, I will hold you accountable!"

Having said this, he strode toward the outer courtyard. As he crossed the threshold, he caught a whiff of his own clothes. Finding them unsatisfactory, he rushed back into the room, changed into a fresh robe, adjusted his cap in the mirror, and then hurried off on horseback.

By the time the messenger from the Prince’s residence arrived at the Marquis’s estate, Huo Yun had already relayed the news to Yue Tang.

"The Prince of Jingyang summoned him at a time like this?"

Yue Tang, who had been grinding medicine with a rhythmic, steady motion, suddenly stopped. A sharp light flickered in her typically calm eyes. Her goal in using Madame Liu was to draw out the Marquis of Guangling. While she had indeed turned her gaze toward the Prince of Jingyang’s estate due to the source of the illicit funds held by the He and Zhang families, the fact that this powerful regent—who held the reins of the imperial court—had surfaced so early was beyond her expectations.

She set down the pestle, wiped her hands, and said, "Let’s go take a look."

***

The Prince of Jingyang’s residence, an old mansion situated on Ziwei Street, stood very close to the imperial palace.

While Yue Tang stood on the second floor of a teahouse across from the residence, the Marquis of Guangling, after taking his third deep breath, knocked on the door knocker of the southeast side gate.

"Pardon me, the Prince requested my presence," he said with a forced smile to the guard who poked his head out.

The guard stepped aside, and the gatekeeper emerged, bowing and saying, "Please, Marquis," before leading him to the Nine-Dragon Screen. A guard beneath the screen took over and escorted him to the second gate. He glanced up at the "Zhongyang Gate" plaque, inscribed by the Founding Emperor. An attendant of middle age emerged—the Marquis recognized him as Gao An, the Prince’s close aide. He quickly stepped forward and cupped his hands. "Master Gao! May I ask how the Prince is... how is his health today?"

Gao An smiled but said nothing, merely gestured for him to enter.

With his heart pounding, the Marquis followed him through the corridors and around the flower walls to the Yangrong Studio on the east side of the residence. Through a thicket of large, wilting wisteria and two osmanthus trees filling the air with heavy fragrance, a light, slow voice, filled with immense doting, drifted out: "Eat slowly, there is plenty more."

The voice was cold and firm, yet clear and pleasant, showing full vitality and youth.

The Marquis scoffed inwardly. A man in his early twenties, yet he insisted on living in this Yangrong Studio—was he not ashamed? But since the entire residence belonged to the Prince of Jingyang, it seemed there was nothing to be said. He suppressed his thoughts, lowered his head, and stepped inside, daring only to steal quick glances at the courtyard.

Behind the wisteria trellis, a man sat with his back to the entrance, wearing a loose gauze robe with his sleeves rolled up. He held a tiger-headed jade bowl in his left hand and a silver spoon shaped like a bird in his right, speaking slowly and softly to someone sitting before his knees. Even while sitting on a low stool, his frame was massive, completely obscuring the person he was feeding.

The Marquis dared not claim the status of a cousin and bowed obsequiously. "This official pays his respects to the Prince!"

There was no reply, only the slow, rhythmic sound of the spoon against the bowl. After waiting a moment, he tried to step closer. "Your Highness, I have arrived."

As he drew nearer, he saw the small child, bundled in thick layers, sitting on a small stool.

The Marquis forced a smile. "The young heir seems to have put on some weight recently; his health is clearly improving."

The child’s features were eight parts similar to his father’s, with exquisite brows and eyes as bright as stars, yet his frame was frail and his complexion pale. Given his prestigious lineage and his father's robust physique, it was clear the child was not in good health. Outsiders didn't know the extent of the Prince’s devotion, but those close to him knew he had spent years seeking doctors and medicines with little success. Though the child was over three, he looked no bigger than a two-year-old.

The Marquis knew that to win the Prince's favor, there was no better topic than the child’s health. In truth, however, he thought it a waste of effort to coddle such a sickly sprout when the Prince could simply take more concubines; within three to five years, he could have as many sons as he wanted. The Prince was certainly wealthy enough and, looking at that broad-shouldered, muscular frame, surely had the stamina for it.

The Marquis had guessed right. The Prince fed the child a small spoonful of yam cake, wiped the residue from the boy's mouth, and finally turned his head to look at the Marquis. He scanned him up and down and said, "You are quite spirited today."

The Marquis grinned. "Last time I came, I was drenched in sweat and frightened the young heir. I’ve learned my lesson and changed my clothes specifically for today."

"Fa-wa (Fa-ther)..." the child on the stool suddenly began to cry.

The Marquis retreated two steps in alarm, hurriedly sniffing his sleeves.