Chapter 10: Is It Really That Hard to Kill a Woman?

He Jianzhong never imagined that the Liu woman would be so desperate!

Was Princess Yongjia just any ordinary princess?

She was not!

She was the apple of the late Emperor’s eye!

She was of the royal bloodline!

Even the late Emperor’s last testament had mentioned her by name!

To murder her was to commit an act of insubordination!

It was equivalent to treason!

If word of this reached the imperial court, the Emperor wouldn't even need to execute him; the Marquis of Guangling would surely destroy him first!

Only after hearing the steward’s report did He Jianzhong steady his mind. Then, as if his soul had suddenly returned to his body, he scrambled to change his clothes in a frantic mess.

The Marquis of Guangling’s wrath was terrifying, but it was nothing compared to having this petition presented before the imperial court.

With trembling hands, he tied his cap strings and hurried out the door, taking two steps in one.

"Look at the fine mess you two have made!"

The moment he stepped into the Marquis of Guangling’s courtyard, his roaring voice rang out.

He Jianzhong knew Zhang Shaode had already arrived, so he quickened his pace. Just as he crossed the threshold, he collided with Zhang Shaode, who was backing out.

A jade cup fell to the ground and shattered into pieces.

The two in-laws scrambled to help each other stand straight, then stood side-by-side like two quails.

The Marquis of Guangling circled his desk, his face full of fury: "The Liu woman was involved in this. You knew she held such a massive handle over us, yet you still dared to send her to the magistrate’s office? You two pig-brained fools!"

"You only have eyes for yourselves—did you not consider me at all?!"

The two men dropped to their knees with a thud.

He Jianzhong said, "But she is suspected of murdering my son! How could this subordinate let her live?"

Zhang Shaode added, "My daughter also died in the He household; this subordinate cannot rest until the truth is brought to light!"

"Since the evidence is conclusive, what would it have mattered if you had just crushed her within your own walls?!"

The Marquis of Guangling’s eyes glinted with malice: "Is killing a woman really that difficult?"

The two men on the ground were speechless.

"Father!"

Du Yu, the heir to the Marquis of Guangling, walked in. After glancing at the room, he approached his father: "The Prince has sent someone; he requests that Father go to the Prince’s mansion immediately!"

The Marquis of Guangling froze: "He heard about it too?"

The color drained further from the faces of He and Zhang.

If it was worth the heir reporting it specifically, this "Prince" could only be Prince Jingyang.

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

The Marquis of Guangling swallowed hard. He took two steps back, wiped the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief, then turned back, gritting his teeth at the two men on the floor. He threw the handkerchief into a copper basin with force: "Go to the magistrate’s office and withdraw the complaint immediately! Bring her back to the estate to deal with!"

He glared at Zhang Shaode: "Wei Zhang must still be investigated! Since He Xu is dead, you two go! If you don't handle this well, I will hold you accountable!"

After saying this, he walked quickly toward the outer courtyard.

As he crossed the threshold, he checked his clothes and sniffed them. Then, with even greater speed, he retreated back into the room, found a fresh, clean robe to change into, straightened his cap in the mirror, and only then did he quicken his pace to mount his horse and leave.

By the time the Prince’s mansion sent word to the Marquis of Guangling’s estate, Huo Yun had already relayed the news to Yue Tang.

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

Yue Tang, who had been pounding medicine with a rhythmic motion, suddenly stopped. Her typically calm eyes flashed with a sharp light.

Her goal in using the Liu woman was to draw out the Marquis of Guangling. While she had indeed turned her gaze toward Prince Jingyang’s mansion due to the source of the illicit silver obtained by the He and Zhang families, it was unexpected that this Prince—a regent holding immense power in the current court—would reveal himself just as the first signs of trouble appeared.

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

...

Prince Jingyang’s mansion, an old estate located in the capital, sat on Ziwei Street, very close to the imperial palace.

While Yue Tang stood on the second floor of a teahouse opposite the mansion, the Marquis of Guangling, after taking his third deep breath, knocked on the door knocker of the southeast corner gate.

"Pardon me, the Prince has sent for me." He forced a smile at the guard who poked his head out.

The guard stepped aside, and the gatekeeper came out, bowed, and said, "Please, Marquis," leading him toward the Nine-Dragon Screen Wall.

The guards beneath the screen wall took over and escorted him to the second gate.

He looked up at the "Zhongyang Gate" plaque bestowed by the founding Emperor. A middle-aged attendant emerged from within. The Marquis recognized him as Gao An, a close aide to Prince Jingyang. He quickly stepped forward and cupped his hands: "Master Gao! May I ask, how is the Prince’s—how is his mood today?"

Gao An only smiled without a word, merely saying, "Please."

The Marquis’s heart was in his throat as he followed him through the corridors and around the flower wall, arriving at the Yangrong Studio on the east side of the mansion.

Through a thicket of large, wilting wisteria and two osmanthus trees emitting a heavy fragrance, a light, slow voice filled with deep doting drifted out: "Eat slowly, there is still plenty."

The voice was cold and stern, yet clear and pleasant—evidently that of a man in his prime, full of vigor.

The Marquis of Guangling felt a sense of disdain; a man in his early twenties, yet he insisted on living in this Yangrong Studio—was he not ashamed?

But since the entire mansion belonged to Prince Jingyang, there was nothing to be said.

He suppressed his thoughts, lowered his head, and stepped inside, daring only to steal two quick glances at the courtyard.

Behind the wisteria trellis, a man stood with his back to the entrance. He wore a loose gauze robe with his sleeves rolled up halfway. In his left hand, he held a jade bowl carved with a tiger’s head, and in his right, a silver spoon with a handle shaped like a small bird. He was whispering slowly to someone in front of his knees.

Even while sitting on a low stool, his frame was broad and sturdy, completely shielding the person he was feeding.

The Marquis of Guangling did not dare to call him "cousin." Instead, he cupped his hands with a fawning expression: "This subordinate greets the Prince!"

Yet, there was only the sound of the bowl and spoon clinking; no one answered him. After waiting a moment, he tried taking two steps closer: "Prince, this subordinate has arrived."

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

The Marquis of Guangling squeezed out a smile: "The little Prince seems to have gained 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, but his frame was very frail, and his complexion appeared pale.

Given such a wealthy lineage and his father’s robust physique, it was clear he was not in good health.

Outsiders did not know how much Prince Jingyang cherished this child, but those close to him knew that for the past few years, he had sought countless doctors and medicines to improve the boy’s health, yet with little success.

Though he was over three years old, he looked no bigger than a two-year-old.

The Marquis of Guangling knew that to win the Prince’s favor, there was nothing better than praising the child’s improved health.

In truth, he felt that rather than wasting so much effort to preserve such a "sprout," it would be better to take a few more concubines; in three to five years, he could have as many sons as he wanted.

It wasn't as if Prince Jingyang couldn't afford it, or lacked the stamina.

Look at that sturdy waist—seven or eight times a night should be no problem.

But the Marquis of Guangling had guessed correctly. After the man in front of him scooped a small spoonful of softened yam cake to feed the child and then wiped the residue from the corner of the child’s small mouth, he finally turned his head. He looked the Marquis up and down and said, "You are quite spirited today."

The Marquis of Guangling grinned: "I came over covered in sweat last time and frightened the little Prince. I’ve learned my lesson today and changed my clothes specifically."

"Fa-wa (Fa-ther)—"

The child on the stool suddenly began to cry again.

The Marquis of Guangling retreated two steps in alarm, hurriedly sniffing his sleeves one after the other.