The early autumn afternoon was still hot, the sun hung high in the heavens, but it was, in the end, clearly in slight decline. Xie Qianbing's residence wasn't much more luxurious than Lin Yingqing's, and in the courtyard, not even an ornamental Taihu boulder could be found. Liu Zihe had been shackled and jailed, and Xie Qianbing took the position of Minister of Appointments without need for doubt. In this time, it could even be said that the Xie residence's door was as busy as a marketplace, every person with some power extending their hands. But she wouldn't see a single one. Those people gradually realised that she was an impassable road, and withdrew their cordiality. But the Xie residence had only been peaceful for a few days when another unexpected guest visited. "How is it that Dianxia has the time to find me today?" Xie Qianbing was a bit puzzled, but she still courteously poured a cup of tea for Liang Jiwen. Liang Jiwen didn't have a title of n...

At that time, Lin Yingqing had only just become Minister of Revenue, and the previous Minister of Revenue whom she'd replaced, Zhang Yaozu, had been Liu Zihe's good friend. Zhang Yaozu had died due to being too addled; at the time, Liu Zihe had a monopoly on the Ministry of Appointments, and Wu Dongmu had monopolised the Ministry of War, and though they were able to cover the heavens with a single hand, they weren't able to sway Emperor Tai's personal interest. As for Zhan Yaozu, he'd been foolish to the point of treating the Ministry of Revenue's purse as his own, and he lived his life extravagantly, without the slightest frugality. It was such that when Emperor Tai had wanted to built a new palace, the Ministry of Revenue hadn't been able to provide the money. Emperor Tai had been furious, executing Zhang Yaozu's family to the ninth degree, and only thus had Lin Yingqing been able to take the position. The instant Lin Yingqing became the Minister of Re...

When the group came to the doors of the Lin residence, the sun was already setting. This house was at the very end of the street, and it was even more distant from urban area of the city, and so even it was the time when everyone was returning home, they didn't disturb anyone. It wasn't clear how, but when the palanquin leaned closer to this side, the group could more or less catch the scent of bitter herbs. The remnants of the sunlight drew the shadows of the locust trees long, and the copper of the bells on the lacquered door was faded. The wood of the door was of the plainest quality, and the two characters of "Lin Residence" on the plaque were quite spirited, but the ink had long since faded a bit. Helping Jiang Changbai down from the palanquin, Xun Zhu was about to go and knock on the door without even thinking about it. But before she could step closer to that closed door, Jiang Changbai called her to a halt, and she lowered her voice and said, "Wait a mome...

Xu Shuqiao stood before the doors of the imperial study, her thumb thoughtlessly smoothing the wrinkles of the fabric atop the memorial. The midsummer's wind swept by the skirts of her court attire, the breeze making the tassels at her waist sway. The sunlight glinted such that one's head grew dizzy and their eyes grew blurred, and she shifted her feet, wanting to hide away under the eaves, when she suddenly heard the sound of footsteps. "Xu-daren," Xun Zhu's voice floated along with her footsteps, "you'd best hurry up and come in; her majesty is waiting for you." When she finished speaking, she extended a hand, gesturing to the inside of the hall, and Xu Shuqiao followed it inside. However, the instant she entered the imperial study's threshold, cold sweat arose on Xu Shuqiao's back. It wasn't because of her; it was because of the content written in that memorial of hers—the jaw of anyone who saw it would drop from shock. The incense lit...

Yang Zhuofei laughed softly. "This subject knows that Bixia doesn't believe it, but this subject truly doesn't know why she's been moved here." But this bearing of hers, in Jiang Changbai's eyes, seemed even more like a clever charade, and she said, "Don't think We wouldn't dare to kill you. Whatever We ask, you will answer, and perhaps if Our mood is good, We'll allow you to live. You must know the logic of there being no worry for firewood as long as there are verdant mountains." Yang Zhuofei smiled as well. "There's no worry for firewood as long as there are verdant mountains? Even if this subject truly were able to get out alive, I fear it would be very hard to have a foothold in the capital, wouldn't it." Jiang Changbai cast her a glance from on high, not saying anything. Yang Zhuofei raised her head to look at her; right now, it was afternoon, and the sunlight that crept in through that palm's width crack just...

The jailer really couldn't be counted as respectful of Yang Zhuofei; seeing she wasn't moving, she roughly grabbed her arm and dragged her up, rapidly shackling her, and forced her to walk out. "Where are you taking this princess?" Yang Zhuofei turned her head and asked, but before she'd finished speaking, her head was pressed back down. She walked forward with a rather grovelling posture, head bowed. The jailed scoffed, and said, "You're still putting on airs even here, as if you're still the Princess Yu." The jailer was someone who didn't like Yang Zhuofei; that she could have her current job was all due to the policies from after Jiang Changbai had taken the throne, and towards Yang Zhuofei, who had tried to overthrow the current government, she naturally didn't have any kind feelings. Now, hearing her nag, a not insignificant amount of irritation rose in her heart. "I really don't know what the Warden was thinking," the...

The Imperial Prison was as still as the dead, the weak light dispersing from the torches flickering in the corners of the walls, and the weeds growing out of the cracks in the walls cast mottled shadows on the ground. The air was filled with the scent of mold, clinging to one's body and impossible to get rid of. It was as if, from the moment one entered the Imperial Prison, this moldy scent would grow upon them. The environment of the cell that Yang Zhuofei was in couldn't be said to be good. In the empty cell, only a single, palm-width strand of sky could be seen, no luxury of brocade and fine meals, nor silk and a soft bed, only water-like porridge and a pile of rotten straw. Though Yang Zhuofei hadn't been born in a well-off family, but the past half of her life had been lived in what could be counted as luxury, and there were always a few people around her serving her, and even if, in recent days, she'd been put under house arrest by Jiang Changbai, she'd had go...