Chu Ruoyan was momentarily stunned before relaxing her brows. "Perhaps... it's the feeling of peace."
Peace...
Ajiao mulled over these words, then after a long pause, let out a bitter smile. "Thank you, Third Madam Yan. I understand now."
When they reached the Hongwu Gate, just as Chu Ruoyan had predicted, the guards on duty were former subordinates of the Yan family. Upon hearing that this matter concerned the wrongful accusations against the Yans, they immediately opened the city gates without hesitation. The squad leader of the Chengtian Gate guards tried to stop them but was swiftly knocked unconscious and dragged away by his own men.
The subsequent Duan and Wu Gates also posed no obstacles, as previously arranged.
Until finally, they arrived before the Fengtian Gate.
"Halt! Who is in the carriage?"
Chu Ruoyan took a deep breath, lifted the curtain, and dismounted. "Chu Ruoyan, wife of the Marquis of Anning and Third Madam of the Yan family, requests an audience with His Majesty!"
The imperial guard, seeing it was a woman, was momentarily taken aback. But upon hearing she was from the Yan family, his tone softened slightly. "So it is the Marchioness of Anning. Does Madam have an imperial summons for this audience?"
"No."
"Then perhaps an oral decree from His Majesty?"
"Neither."
The guard's expression darkened at once. "Without an imperial edict or decree, Madam must turn back!"
Chu Ruoyan stood her ground. "Sir, I have come today to plead for justice! Could you, in consideration of the Yan family's generations of loyalty, relay my request for an audience?"
The guard shook his head. "Madam, do not make this difficult for me. His Majesty has decreed that no one may enter the palace without summons. If you wish to avoid calamity, please return."
Chu Ruoyan lowered her gaze.
As expected, the palace gates were not so easily breached.
She tightened her grip on the object concealed in her sleeve, preparing to act, when suddenly a clear voice called out, "Marchioness of Anning?"
Chu Ruoyan turned in surprise to see Su Tingyun standing there.
Dressed in full court attire, his official hat impeccably placed, he took in her presence and the carriage behind her—understanding everything in an instant.
"Lord Su!" The imperial guard hastily bowed.
Su Tingyun waved them off. "Leave us. I wish to speak with the Marchioness alone."
The guards exchanged uncertain glances but ultimately obeyed.
"I had forgotten... Lord Su oversees the Shuntian Prefecture's duties, and guarding the palace walls falls under his jurisdiction..." A faint, bitter smile touched Chu Ruoyan's lips.
Su Tingyun spoke quietly, "Madam seeks an audience with His Majesty... for the Yan family?"
There was no point in hiding it now.
Chu Ruoyan gave a slight nod. Su Tingyun fell silent, then after a long pause, murmured, "If that is the case, then Madam must know... Tingyun cannot, dare not, and will not let you pass."
The three denials were unmistakably clear.
Chu Ruoyan inclined her head. "I understand."
Su Tingyun stiffened. "You... don't blame me?"
"Why should I? The Marquis of Pingjing is your father. Blood ties run deep—no lofty talk of justice or righteousness can change that."
Her words were matter-of-fact, her expression open and unfeigned.
Su Tingyun's heart ached.
He would have preferred her anger, her accusations—not this calm acceptance, this understanding...
"Miss Chu..." For the first time, he allowed selfishness to override propriety. "Forgive my impropriety, but... if you were not the Marchioness of Anning, would you still do this?"
Chu Ruoyan knew what he was asking.
He sought an answer—one that might grant him a sliver of peace.
Yet she replied, "Yes."
"Though perhaps not so boldly. But I would still stand forth, unwilling to let loyal ministers be wronged or valiant generals suffer unjustly."
Loyal ministers wronged, valiant generals suffering...
The eight words drained the color from Su Tingyun's face.
Seeing this, Chu Ruoyan pressed forward. "Lord Su, you have your reasons for refusing me passage, and I have mine for insisting. Since neither will yield, why not let Heaven decide?"
"Heaven decide?" Confusion flickered across his face.
Chu Ruoyan opened her right palm, revealing a copper coin. "Toss this. If it lands heads, you let me pass. If tails, I shall leave without another word."
Dazed, Su Tingyun took the coin from her hand.
Ting—
The crisp sound rang out as the coin arced through the air, tumbling, spinning, before finally settling...
"Heads!"
Chu Ruoyan met his gaze. Su Tingyun stood motionless, his face ashen.
Like a statue carved from dried wood, he remained rooted for a long moment before slowly raising his hand.
"Open the gate."
The imperial guards hesitated but obeyed, swinging the Fengtian Gate wide.
Chu Ruoyan exhaled in relief.
At last...
She helped Ajiao dismount while Meng Yang, bearing weapons, was stopped at the threshold. With a nod to him, she stepped through the gate.
Thud—
A heavy impact echoed—Su Tingyun had fallen to his knees.
This act of mercy had sealed his father's fate.
---
Inside the Fengtian Hall...
The Emperor had summoned not only Yan Zheng and the Marquis of Pingjing but also Chancellor Gu, whose wife hailed from the Su family—making him kin to the Marquis through the Empress Dowager's younger sister.
"Marquis of Anning, We summoned you today regarding the matter of Hangu Pass. Our investigation by the Grand Secretariat has concluded. While your father's reckless charge did lead to ambush, traitors also stole the city's defense plans, contributing to the fall. Thus, We shall not pursue further accountability for this defeat."
Yan Zheng's eyes glinted with cold mockery.
Pursue accountability? How?
By digging corpses from their graves to whip them anew?
The Emperor coughed awkwardly. "What We mean is—the true culprits behind Hangu Pass's fall are those who stole the plans. Naturally, they must bear the blame. What say you?"
At this, the Marquis of Pingjing nearly collapsed.
Yan Zheng lifted his gaze. "And who does Your Majesty believe stole the plans?"
"Has the Ministry of Justice not already identified the culprit? That orphan girl you rescued—Ah, what was her name? We shall have her executed by chariot-tearing. Does that suffice?"
Ice filled Yan Zheng's eyes.
The Emperor's meaning was clear: pinning the blame on Ajiao meant sparing Su Nantian.
Overjoyed, Su Nantian cried, "Your Majesty is most wise!"
"Silence!" The Emperor glared before continuing, "Marquis of Anning, We know this is unjust to your family. But what's done cannot be undone. Let this matter rest. In compensation, We shall elevate you to Duke of Anguo, grant your wife a noble title, and confer the heirship upon Wen Jing. Are these terms acceptable?"
A dukedom, a noble title, an heirship—generous by the Emperor's frugal standards.
Yet to Yan Zheng, these hollow honors could never outweigh six Yan lives or ten thousand fallen soldiers. His clenched fingers dug into his palms...
"Your Majesty, the Yan family... is innocent."
Six words, each weighted like mountains.
The Emperor's expression darkened.
Of course he knew the Yans were innocent. But Su Nantian could not die—not unless he wished the Empress Dowager to descend into madness over her family's extinction.
A meaningful glance passed to Chancellor Gu, who reluctantly interjected, "Duke of Anguo, His Majesty acknowledges the injustice done to your family and understands your grievances. Yet the past cannot be changed. We must look forward... If these titles are insufficient, you may request further concessions, no?"
The Emperor glared at Chancellor Gu upon hearing this—wasn’t this practically inviting him to make outrageous demands?
Chancellor Gu could only sigh helplessly. When the imperial family committed such a grave mistake and still sought to cover it up, what else could they do but beg the other side to state their terms first?
Yan Zheng did not miss the silent exchange between the ruler and his minister.
Standing dazed in the grand hall, the sense of absurdity within him grew heavier by the moment.
Since when had justice and human lives become mere bargaining chips?
"Your Majesty, this guilty subject asks for only one thing."
With a frost-cold gaze and a faint, solemn bow, he spoke in a voice like winter’s edge: "The Marquis of Pingjing must die."
