Bai Xiuming folded the paper and tucked it back into his sleeve, calling for a subordinate waiting outside.
“What are your orders, my lord?”
“Move everything from here.”
The subordinate paused briefly, then nodded and quickly summoned others to start moving items.
The maid watched as the Mirror Division guards carried out the furniture and decorations her young lady once used, unsure whether to intervene, and looked to the steward.
The steward, wiping sweat from his brow, stole a glance at the formidable figure before burying his head again. If the Marquis allowed this man to take the late madam’s dowry, what were a few of the young lady’s belongings?
The Jinyang Marquis, adhering to the principle of out of sight, out of mind, stayed in the main hall.
When a servant reported that Bai Xiuming had also ordered Ji Chan’s former courtyard emptied, the Marquis ground his teeth audibly.
“Too much!”
He paced the hall, calculating. The matter of Lin’s dowry couldn’t be blown out of proportion, delving too deeply would harm the reputation of the Marquis’s household and his children.
But it couldn’t be brushed off either. Bai Xiuming’s arrogance demanded a lesson.
Lady Xue spent over an hour retrieving precious items from Lin’s dowry, scattered across the rooms of the household’s main members.
She and her maids inventoried the estates and shops from Lin’s dowry, the deeds forming a small stack.
“Madam, must we hand over all of this?” her maid asked, voice full of regret.
One shop was on Tian Street, bringing in substantial monthly rent, and there was an estate…
Lady Xue hesitated, pulling out the deeds for the shop and estate, instructing her maid to hide them, and handed over the rest.
The Mirror Division guard receiving them glanced at the deeds and asked, “Madam Lin’s dowry included an estate in the capital’s suburbs and a shop on Tian Street. Are you forgetting them, Lady Jinyang?”
Lady Xue’s expression shifted, forcing a smile. “Perhaps you’re mistaken, my lord?”
The guard remained calm. “My memory is sharp. If the Lady can’t find the deeds, I can have my men assist. We’re quite skilled at searching homes.”
Lady Xue’s smile stiffened. “Perhaps my memory failed me. I’ll have my maid look again.”
The maid, catching her signal, hurried to a secluded spot, retrieved the hidden deeds, and handed them to the guard.
Bai Xiuming’s men worked efficiently, inventorying and boxing Lin’s dowry in under an hour, then carting it away.
From her perch in the teahouse, Achan watched Bai Xiuming lead his men into the residence, her lips curling into a pleased smile.
Mulin’s gaze never left Achan. Seeing her smile, he couldn’t help but grin foolishly.
Racking his brain for a topic, he noticed her focus on the Mirror Division guards and seized the chance, clearing his throat. “I wonder how the Jinyang Marquis offended Lord Bai of the Mirror Division to bring so many men to his door.”
Achan turned to him.
Mulin, delighted, continued, “I’ve heard Lord Bai is erratic and reckless. After striking someone today, he’ll likely face several impeachments from the Censorate tomorrow.”
“Will it be serious?” Achan asked.
“Probably not. At most, a salary cut or suspension. He’s of imperial lineage, and His Majesty is usually lenient with them.”
Achan, intrigued, asked, “Which royal relative is Lord Bai descended from?”
“He’s the legitimate son of the Xiling King. Rumor has it, years ago, the Xiling King wanted to disinherit him for his younger brother, but His Majesty didn’t agree. Later, the former queen consort died, and the heir nearly did too. Prince Ming happened to pass by and brought him to the capital.”
Mulin knew quite a bit, and Achan listened with relish. So Bai Xiuming had such a vulnerable past—hard to imagine.
“Do you know him, miss?” Mulin asked, noticing her interest in Bai Xiuming.
Achan quickly denied, “No, just curious.”
Having seen the spectacle, she planned to leave. Mulin, having just started talking and not yet learned her name, didn’t want her to go.
As she stood, he followed.
Achan went downstairs to pay, buying a pack of cake to take home. As the waiter handed her the package, a commotion erupted outside.
Carrying her cakes, Achan joined the crowd to see what was happening. On the street, a tall, thin man in a gray robe was grabbing a woman by her hair, slapping her while spewing vile insults.
The woman, in her thirties, had blood seeping from her mouth and bruised eyes, yet her beauty was still evident.
Emboldened by the growing crowd, the man cursed louder, “You wretch! I’m still at home, and you can’t wait to sneak out with another man. Aren’t you shameless?”
The onlookers, realizing their relationship, hesitated to intervene. Helping a woman caught in adultery could bring trouble.
“I didn’t,” the woman protested, dodging his blows, but he ignored her.
As the crowd grew, the teahouse owner emerged, recognizing the woman. He sent his staff to separate them.
The tall man, pulled away by two workers, kept shouting, “So, this is your lover, huh? Just you wait!”
With that, he stormed off.
The owner glared at the man with disgust and reached to help the woman, but she struggled to her feet herself.
“Madam Chen, are you alright?” the owner asked, seeing her injured face.
“Thank you, sir,” she said, touching her swollen cheek. “I’m fine.”
Noticing his hesitation, she lowered her head. “Thanks for your help today. I won’t work as a tea lady here anymore.”
Her tea-brewing skills had made her a tea lady at the teahouse, but with her face beaten and her husband clearly unreasonable, the owner didn’t want trouble and nodded in agreement.
Madam Chen curtsied, tucked her disheveled hair behind her ear, and walked out of the crowd.
Achan sensed people behind her and turned to see several young noblemen, apparently acquainted with Mulin, winking at him.
She looked away, intending to slip off, but overheard someone say, “Wasn’t that woman the daughter of the former National University Chancellor? Yan Cheng, do you know her?”
“How would I?” Yan Cheng replied irritably.
“I remember her father was demoted for writing essays slandering your grandfather. Not long after leaving the capital, his family was killed by demons, leaving just her,” the speaker sighed. “A fine noble lady, reduced to this. What a pity.”
Listening to their talk, Achan watched the woman’s straight-backed departure, feeling she might not need anyone’s pity.
She didn’t linger, taking a few steps forward, but Mulin caught up, calling, “Miss, could you tell me your name?”
Achan disliked persistent pestering and, suppressing her annoyance, said, “I’m Ji Chan.”
Without waiting for his reaction, she left.
Mulin froze, realizing who Ji Chan was. His expression shifted, and he didn’t pursue her.
Soon after Achan returned home, there was a knock at the door.
Thinking it was Bai Xiuming delivering Lin’s dowry, she opened it to find Feng Yang instead.
Achan eyed him, noting his empty hands.
“Miss Ji, the Commander asked me to deliver a message,” Feng Yang said from the doorway.
“Go ahead.”
“His Lordship said… he has fulfilled the agreement and retrieved the dowry you requested from the Marquis’s residence,” Feng Yang said.
Achan blinked. And then? Shouldn’t he deliver it to her after taking it?
Feng Yang, oblivious to her expression, continued, “The materials you listed will be delivered tomorrow. Please, Miss, make the item as soon as possible so the dowry can be retrieved sooner.”
Achan was dumbfounded, then gritted her teeth. “Your lord is truly watertight.”
“Miss Ji, you flatter him,” Feng Yang said, looking proud.
“Oh, right,” he added, just before Achan could slam the door in his face, “His Lordship said your living conditions are poor, and it pained him to see. So he sent you some things.”
He stepped aside, and Achan looked outside to see a pile of furniture, decorations, and daily necessities.
They looked familiar—items Ji Chan had used at the Marquis’s residence?
Feng Yang had his men move the furniture into Achan’s home. With limited space, he took it upon himself to remove her door panel.
Achan felt like he was subtly getting back at her.
It took over an hour to arrange the items, likely plundered from the Marquis’s residence, in their proper places. Her second-floor bedroom was completely transformed.
Before leaving, Feng Yang delivered one final jab: “His Lordship said you have at least a hundred taels of silver, so you shouldn’t be living in misery. If you find the silver insufficient…”
Achan felt a flicker of hope.
“…use it sparingly.”
Bang! The newly installed door slammed shut.
Feng Yang rubbed his nose. He knew Ji Chan would be furious, but he’d lost a bet with Jiang Kai, so he had to deliver the message himself.
Door closed, Achan stormed upstairs, fuming. She looked at the neatly arranged bedroom, where a desk by the window held stationery and a few books.
Those books were ones Ji Chan loved, arranged exactly as they’d been when she was expelled from the residence.
How considerate! Did she ask for furniture? Where was her silver?
She kicked a chair from the Marquis’s residence, only to stub her toe. Clutching her foot, she sat on the chair, sulking for a long while.
From today, Bai Xiuming was her most hated human!
The next day, while Achan was still asleep, the morning court session saw several officials attack Bai Xiuming.
First, Yan Liru, Vice Minister of Justice, submitted a memorial accusing Bai Xiuming of disregarding the law and injuring a Justice Ministry official.
No sooner had Yan finished than a censor stepped forward, accusing Bai Xiuming of mishandling cases. The murder of Zhao Ming, Left Vice Censor, remained unsolved, yet he used his position to suppress dissent, urging the Emperor to punish him severely.
The Jinyang Marquis, standing among the military nobles, watched the censor all but point at Bai Xiuming’s nose, calling him incompetent. The anger from yesterday eased slightly.
The Emperor, seated on the dragon throne, flipped through the memorials without looking up. “Bai Xiuming, Commander of the Mirror Division.”
“Your servant is here,” Bai Xiuming stepped forward.
“What do you have to say?”
“Lord Zhao Ming’s case was resolved days ago.”
“Hah, Lord Bai is quite adept at muddying the waters. If the case is resolved, where’s the culprit?” the accusing censor sneered.
Bai Xiuming explained, “This case involves Lord Zhao’s reputation and is not suitable for discussion in open court.”
The Zhao Ming case was sealed by the Mirror Division. The only one who knew the truth, Xue Mingtang, was ineligible for court.
The censor was unsatisfied. “Lord Bai refuses to speak. Could it be you found nothing and are trying to brush it off?”
He knelt and reported, “Your Majesty, the Mirror Division investigates unchecked, acting recklessly. In time, it will become a national calamity.”
“Then explain the case,” the Emperor said from the throne.
“Zhao Ming, to legitimize his mistress’s son, likely murdered his wife, Lin. After her death, he hired a Daoist to seal her soul. Lady Xiao Lin became a vengeful ghost, possessing Zhao’s illegitimate son, and killed Zhao’s parents, Zhao himself, and his mistress—four in total. That’s the entire case.” Bai Xiuming knelt, pleading, “I beg Your Majesty’s pardon. After Lady Lin killed, she vanished, and I, incompetent, failed to capture her.”
The censors’ faces turned green. Was this a plea for forgiveness? It was a slap to the Censorate’s face.
A Left Vice Censor keeping a mistress?
Not only that, but daring to bring her son into the family. If undiscovered, fine, but it was exposed.
Now it was the Censorate’s turn to face scrutiny.
Why hadn’t they noticed Zhao Ming’s despicable character earlier?
The censors fell silent, and the Emperor seemed uninterested in pursuing further. The court session ended perfunctorily.
After court, as Bai Xiuming walked out, a hand clapped his shoulder.
He turned to see Prince Ming, in princely robes, grinning broadly.
Prince Ming, appearing just over forty, clean-shaven, looked younger than the Emperor.
“Heard you did something big recently?” he said.
“Which matter?”
“The one about opening the palace gates for an imperial physician. Tell your father, whose daughter is she?”
Prince Ming was no different from street gossips.
“You already know,” Bai Xiuming said.
“Tch, I thought you didn’t like women. Turns out you fancy refined ladies. Need your father to advise you?”
Bai Xiuming glanced at his adoptive father, puzzled. “Where did you get the idea I like refined ladies?”
“Isn’t that girl the Jinyang Marquis’s legitimate daughter?”
“What kind of refined lady is she?” Bai Xiuming’s tone was odd. Thinking of Ji Chan’s wheedling, tantrums, and theatrics, he couldn’t lie to Prince Ming.
“Brat, how can you talk about a girl like that?” Prince Ming thought Bai Xiuming looked down on Ji Chan’s status and wanted to say more, but Bai Xiuming had already walked away.
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