Chapter 75
Proofreader : Mim
Li Zhi brought Lu Yao back to the Palace Administration Bureau and arranged for her to stay in a clean cell.
Lu Yao’s eyes darted nervously around the room.
“Stay here and rest for now. If you remember anything—anything at all—send word to me immediately,” Li Zhi said.
Lu Yao clung to her side, unwilling to let her leave. “Where are you going?”
“I’m heading back to Jinglan Pavilion. Perhaps I can find some clues there.”
“When will you be back?” Lu Yao asked again, her voice trembling.
“I’ll try to return as soon as possible,” Li Zhi replied, softening her tone. “Have you had lunch yet?”
Lu Yao shook her head. Her tear-streaked face, swollen from the slaps, made her look like a lost fawn separated from its mother.
“…I’ll bring you some food when I return,” Li Zhi said gently, surprising herself with how tender her words sounded.
Lu Yao nodded, her wide, teary eyes following Li Zhi as she exited the cell and secured the lock.
After Li Zhi left, Lu Yao cautiously looked around the room before retreating to a corner. She curled into a small ball, hugging her knees, and silently hoped that the kind, gentle woman would come back soon.
But before long, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway outside the cell.
Her heart leapt with hope, and she stood to greet her visitor.
A stern, cold face appeared behind the iron bars, and Lu Yao froze in terror, retreating to her corner.
The lock rattled.
—–
As Li Zhi passed through the Palace Administration Bureau’s offices, she could feel the stares of her colleagues following her. Their gazes were a mix of surprise, judgment, and curiosity—no doubt, word of her intervention on Lu Yao’s behalf had spread.
She ignored them and continued on her way, heading directly to Jinglan Pavilion.
The pavilion was eerily silent, as if the incident had turned it into an abandoned ruin overnight. Stepping into the courtyard, Li Zhi summoned Lu Yao’s two palace maids.
“What are your names?” she asked.
The two maids exchanged uncertain glances before answering.
One was named Chunmei, and the other, whom Li Zhi had scolded previously, was named Chunlan.
“Chunmei, go inside and close the door. Wait until I call your name before coming out,” Li Zhi instructed.
The two maids hesitated briefly, but Chunmei eventually obeyed, leaving Li Zhi alone with Chunlan in the courtyard.
“Do you know what I’m about to ask you?” Li Zhi said, her gaze sharp.
“…The matter of Consort Lu cursing Noble Consort Yi?” Chunlan ventured cautiously.
Li Zhi smiled faintly. “The investigation has just begun, yet you already know Consort Lu is the culprit?”
“But… wasn’t the witchcraft doll dug up from Consort Lu’s courtyard?” Chunlan stammered, her voice small.
“Other people have access to Consort Lu’s courtyard. Even if it was planted by someone living here, Jinglan Pavilion isn’t occupied by Consort Lu alone,” Li Zhi said. “I want to hear why you think it’s her.”
Chunlan’s eyes darted nervously, avoiding Li Zhi’s gaze. “Consort Lu… she angered the Emperor, and seeing Noble Consort Yi being favored every day… she would lock herself in her room and cry all the time. I think… it’s not impossible that she grew jealous and hateful of Noble Consort Yi…”
Li Zhi pressed further with her questions, but Chunlan’s answers were vague at best. She claimed to know little about Consort Lu’s activities beyond her frequent tears. When asked whether Consort Lu had eaten lunch the day of the incident, she hesitated before deflecting the question to Chunmei.
“I think Chunmei would know better about that… she’s the one who serves Consort Lu her meals.”
Seeing no more value in questioning Chunlan, Li Zhi dismissed her and called Chunmei out.
Chunmei was significantly older than Chunlan, with an air of calm and experience that marked her as a veteran of the palace. Unlike Chunlan, she betrayed no emotion as she greeted Li Zhi with a polite bow.
“Li Sizheng,” Chunmei said formally.
“The witchcraft doll appears to have been buried no more than five days ago. Yet in such a short time, Noble Consort Yi was tipped off and came straight here to search. What do you make of this?” Li Zhi asked.
Chunmei hesitated, her expression unreadable.
“Speak freely,” Li Zhi encouraged. “It’s just you and me here. No one else will know what you say.”
After a moment of deliberation, Chunmei spoke. “Sizheng, I dare not lie to you. About a month ago… on several nights, I would be woken up by strange noises.”
“What kind of noises?”
“They were faint, but… they sounded like something being carved or whittled,” Chunmei said cautiously.
“What do you think of Consort Lu’s relationship with Noble Consort Yi?” Li Zhi asked.
Chunmei seemed surprised by the question. “Our Lady seldom leaves her chambers. She barely speaks even to me and Chunlan, let alone someone as exalted as Noble Consort Yi. I don’t believe Consort Lu would resort to cursing her.”
Li Zhi continued her questioning, trying to extract as much information as she could. Chunmei’s answers were calm and measured, hinting at no bias or hidden agenda.
Before dismissing her, Li Zhi reminded both maids to remain vigilant and to report anything unusual.
As Li Zhi left Jinglan Pavilion, her mind swirled with the fragments of clues she had gathered.
The strange carving noises Chunmei had mentioned seemed significant. But why had no one else reported them?
And why had Noble Consort Yi been so quick to act on such flimsy evidence?
As Li Zhi walked back toward the Palace Administration Bureau, her instincts told her that there was far more to this case than met the eye.
Someone wanted to destroy Lu Yao—but who? And why?
The answers were out there. She just had to find them.
As she passed by the small kitchen in the Palace Administration Bureau, Li Zhi asked for a food container and packed two portions of lunch into it.
But as soon as she entered the prison of the Palace Administration Bureau, she heard Lu Yao’s pitiful screams mingled with the sharp crack of a whip.
Li Zhi’s expression darkened instantly, and she rushed to the cell where Lu Yao was being held.
Lu Yao was bound to a cross, her small, frail body now covered with more than a dozen bloodied whip marks in just the short time Li Zhi had been gone. Her voice was hoarse from crying, and each strike of the whip elicited a heart-wrenching scream.
Li Zhi felt a surge of fury rushing to her head.
“Stop!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the air like a blade.
The female officer administering the punishment paused, startled by the sudden interruption.
Standing calmly nearby, Director Ma turned her gaze to the quickly approaching Li Zhi. Her expression was as tranquil as ever, as if she had fully anticipated Li Zhi’s interference.
The sight of Li Zhi seemed to give Lu Yao a faint glimmer of hope. Her sobs quieted slightly, and though she was still trembling with fear and pain, her cries softened into quiet whimpers.
“Director Ma, the investigation is not yet concluded. Why are you subjecting Consort Lu to torture?” Li Zhi demanded, suppressing the anger in her voice.
“It is precisely to get to the truth,” Director Ma replied coolly.
“The case of the witchcraft doll found at Jinglan Pavilion is riddled with inconsistencies. It is highly likely that the true culprit is someone else. Consort Lu is a member of the imperial harem—recklessly resorting to torture is highly inappropriate.”
“Li Sizheng, I do not need you to instruct me on how to handle an investigation,” Director Ma retorted icily.
“But—”
“I know you are young and eager to make your mark by solving a major case,” Director Ma interrupted. “But let me offer you a piece of advice: in the imperial harem, nothing is ever clean. Pull one weed, and the whole bed comes up with it. Get too involved, and the dirt will inevitably splatter on you. You may be fearless now, but I am only two years away from retiring from the palace. I must think about my future.”
Li Zhi froze.
She hadn’t yet had the chance to report the results of her questioning at Jinglan Pavilion, and yet Director Ma spoke as though she already knew Consort Lu was innocent.
Director Ma didn’t care who the real culprit was.
She simply didn’t want to complicate matters. She refused to involve other influential figures, and since Noble Consort Yi had decided who the perpetrator should be, Director Ma was willing to play along and turn that person into the culprit.
“Li Sizheng, if you have no further business here, I suggest you return to the office. The Palace Administration Bureau cannot be left unattended,” Director Ma said, effectively dismissing her.
Hearing this, Lu Yao’s pale face turned even whiter. She lifted her head weakly, her eyes filled with pleading and fear as she looked at Li Zhi.
Li Zhi stood in silence for a long moment before finally bowing and taking her leave.
Behind her, the sound of the whip resumed, accompanied by Lu Yao’s anguished cries. Each strike felt like a knife slicing into Li Zhi’s heart, but she did not look back.
As Li Zhi walked out of the Palace Administration Bureau, her head felt heavy, her steps unsteady. Lu Yao’s youthful sobs echoed endlessly in her mind.
She was only twelve or thirteen.
At twelve or thirteen, even though the Li family had already been destroyed, Li Cien at least had her older brother, born of the same mother, to accompany her. She had Li Zhi to protect and guide her.
When Li Zhi herself was twelve or thirteen, she had still been living in blissful ignorance, believing in a false sense of normalcy and security, unaware that her twin sister had already fallen into the clutches of devils.
But Lu Yao, at twelve or thirteen, had been torn away from the parents who loved her and the home she knew. Forced to leave for a faraway land, she now found herself trapped in the cold, merciless imperial palace.
How could a young girl who was too timid to leave her own courtyard, who cried behind closed doors where no one could see, possibly have the courage—or the malice—to use witchcraft to curse the powerful and formidable Noble Consort Yi?
Anyone with eyes could see that this was a grave injustice. Yet, aside from Li Zhi, no one seemed interested in clearing Lu Yao’s name.
To these people, the life of a newly appointed consort who had fallen out of favor with the Emperor was as insignificant as that of an insect crushed underfoot. If she died, so be it.
The sun would still rise tomorrow. The Emperor would continue to dote on Noble Consort Yi. The palace would remain unchanged, even with one less Lu Yao.
But Li Zhi knew she would change.
If she turned a blind eye to Lu Yao’s suffering, she would become someone else entirely.
Someone no different from Momo Chunlan, from Li Jinzhi, or from Li Qiaonian—those cold and ruthless people she despised.
Everything she had fought for, everything she had persevered for, would become a joke.
She hadn’t given up everything she once had just to become someone devoid of compassion, someone who would stoop to any means to achieve her goals.
The pain and despair endured by the most important person in her life—she could not bear to see someone else suffer through the same.
She had to protect those weak and helpless women, like her twin sister, and ensure they would not walk the same path to ruin. If she couldn’t even do that—
What meaning was there in her survival?
—–
Inside Ziwei Palace, the warmth was like spring. The glowing red embers of gold-thread charcoal radiated heat from the brazier.
Emperor Xie Shencong sat at the imperial bed, engrossed in painting, his brush flowing with utmost concentration.
He had been painting for who knew how long when the hand holding the brush grew sore. Setting the brush down, he raised his eyes slightly. A waiting servant immediately stepped forward and offered a cup of tea, perfectly warm.
To ensure the Emperor could drink hot tea at any time, countless cups of the precious Da Hong Pao tea leaves, worth a fortune, had been poured away without hesitation.
After a sip of tea, Eunuch Gao approached the Emperor and whispered a few words to him.
“Oh?” Emperor Xie Shencong’s expression flickered with mild surprise. “Let her in.”
Moments later, Li Zhi entered the chamber, her gaze lowered.
Emperor Xie Shencong reclined leisurely on the luohan bed and scrutinized her.
He had to admit, even though she had passed her prime, Li Zhi was still beautiful—exceptionally so. Her beauty was rare even when viewed across the entire world.
Beautiful, yes. But overly restrained. Not as charming as her younger sister.
Unconsciously, Emperor Xie Shencong’s thoughts wandered. When he snapped back to attention, he realized Li Zhi had been maintaining her posture of obeisance for quite some time.
“You may rise,” he said. “Do you know? I usually don’t concern myself with the affairs of servants, let alone privately summon one.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty, for your kindness,” Li Zhi replied.
Emperor Xie Shencong leaned back lazily, raising his right hand in a casual gesture. “Speak. What trouble have you encountered?”
Li Zhi lifted her head and was about to respond when her gaze fell upon the painting in front of Emperor Xie Shencong. Suddenly, it was as though her throat was blocked, and all her words evaporated from her mind.
On the pristine white rice paper was an image of the imperial bed, and upon it was a young girl, her skin as pale and tender as lotus root. Crimson silk ribbon coiled around her body, suggestively covering her not-yet-fully-developed chest, teasingly revealing and concealing her figure.
The girl’s face had not fully matured, yet she mimicked an adult’s coquettish demeanor, posing seductively and casting flirtatious glances at the artist holding the brush.
As though burned, Li Zhi immediately averted her eyes. She didn’t even dare to look at the bed to see if such a girl was physically present.
But in the corner of her vision, she caught a glimpse of a small pair of embroidered shoes near the bed.
At such close range, though she had no weapon, she was confident she could sink her teeth into Emperor Xie Shencong’s neck. She was certain her hatred alone could break through his throat.
But if Emperor Xie Shencong died here, the truth about her sister’s fate would be buried forever beneath his repulsive corpse. And even so, Emperor Xie Shencong would still be honored and mourned by the people, with no one ever knowing the monstrous crimes he had committed.
“…I…” She swallowed the blood pooling in her mouth and forced out each word with effort. “I wish to take responsibility for investigating the witchcraft case at Jinglan Pavilion.”
“You have ties with Consort Lu?”
“We are strangers.”
“Then why?” Emperor Xie Shencong asked, clearly intrigued. “Do you understand? Once I intervene on Consort Lu’s behalf, this matter will become far more complicated. From then on, both you and Consort Lu will become thorns in the side of Noble Consort Yi, irritations she cannot ignore. Are you prepared for that?”
“Defying Noble Consort Yi is not something I desire,” Li Zhi replied. “But since Your Majesty has appointed me as a Sizheng of the Palace Administration Bureau, it is my duty to carry out my responsibilities and investigate each case, whether it be a false accusation or a miscarriage of justice, with my utmost diligence.”
Emperor Xie Shencong chuckled, his reaction ambiguous.
“You see your sister in her, don’t you?” he said sharply, piercing through her defenses with ease.
“…”
“Li Xia died of postpartum hemorrhage. That was not my intention,” he sighed. “If I had known back then that she carried my child, even if every official had opposed it, I would have brought her into the palace. But she never told me.”
Li Zhi lowered her head in silence, her mouth tasting increasingly of blood.
“I owe your sister a great debt,” he said, his voice tinged with false regret. “I will make amends through you.”
Before Li Zhi could respond, he continued,
“The matter you request—I grant it. The witchcraft case involving Consort Lu is now entirely in your hands.”
