The moment she saw the jade pendant, Meng Yi's pupils dilated violently, and his mind went completely blank.
Wen Taojun asked him, "Meng Yi, look at me, answer me. Is this yours? Is this the heirloom jade pendant of the Meng family, passed from your parents to you, worn on your body every single day, until twenty-six years ago, when you lost it in Yinzhou?"
Meng Yi looked at Wen Taojun.
She was so delicate, so vibrant, so beautiful. On the day Wen Qian was buried, she had also worn plain white mourning clothes.
He remembered—that day, she had secretly made a pair of red lanterns decorated with mandarin ducks, burning them for Wen Qian.
At the time, he had hidden in the shadows, watching.
He thought, perhaps in her heart, she had married Wen Qian that very day.
Finally, after a silence that was both brief and endless, Meng Yi spoke: "Yes. This jade pendant is the Meng family heirloom, never leaving my side. Twenty-six years ago, it remained in Yinzhou."
Having received Meng Yi's own confirmation, Wen Taojun could no longer hold back, tears streaming down her face.
Her hands, clutching the jade pendant, trembled uncontrollably. "Meng Yi, I ask you again. There is blood on this jade pendant, already dried. Now tell me, face to face—whose blood is this?"
At this moment, there was no longer any way to deceive himself.
Meng Yi finally realized that his retribution had come crashing down on him—today, twenty-six years later.
As if all his spirit had drained away, he spoke: "It belongs to Wen Qian, the eldest son of Wen Shouan, the Protector of Yinzhou."
Wen Taojun: "Why is his blood on the heirloom pendant you always wore? Meng Yi, remember the oath you swore to me—that you would never lie to me. If you speak a single false word today, we will both die without a whole corpse."
Each of Wen Taojun's accusations was like a knife, stabbing into the hearts of both her and Meng Yi, leaving them both bloody and raw.
Meng Yi bent both knees and knelt before Wen Taojun: "My lady, I have wronged you. I have done a terrible thing."
In the crowd, Meng Zheng felt as if he was on the verge of collapse.
What in the world was happening?
Why had his mother suddenly appeared in the court?
Why was the Meng family heirloom jade pendant in her hands?
Why was his father kneeling?
What was going on?
At that moment, tears fell from Meng Yi's eyes as he said, "My lady, I am the one who killed Wen Qian."
"You admit it? So it really was you..." As the one who shared his bed, as the person who knew Meng Yi best, the last shred of fantasy and hope shattered completely. Wen Taojun wept as she accused him: "Meng Yi, how dare you? How dare you deceive me, deceive Uncle and Aunt, deceive us all these years? My eldest brother was your brother too! He treated you like his own kin, and Uncle and Aunt treated you like their own son. They trusted you, promoted you, helped you—and this is how you repay them?"
Wen Taojun struck him and wept, until at last she had no strength left. She too fell to her knees, her voice cracking with grief as she demanded, "How could you hide this for twenty-six years? How could you! How dare you! My eldest brother was such a good man. His lifelong wish was to fight on the battlefield, to guard Yinzhou City, to protect the people of Yinzhou. But he did not die at the enemy's hands—he died by your hand. Meng Yi, how have you lived with yourself for twenty-six years!"
Meng Yi dared not resist, only repeating over and over, "Forgive me, my lady. Forgive me..."
In the end, both seemed drained of all strength. Wen Taojun sat in silence, slumped like a soulless corpse upon the ground.
Meng Yi slowly confessed the truth of twenty-six years ago.
Twenty-six years ago, two days before Wen Qian's death, he had ordered a gold hairpin, a pair of gold bracelets, and a pair of jade pendants from a jewelry shop.
He had asked Meng Yi excitedly, "Do you think I should use these to propose to the little girl? Would it seem not formal enough? Should I order more?"
Meng Yi's heart was sour, but he forced a smile: "It's enough. Haven't you also ordered from other shops? Besides, haven't Uncle and Aunt prepared plenty of betrothal gifts for your marriage?"
Wen Qian laughed. "That's different. Those are gifts from my parents to their daughter-in-law. What I've prepared are for my future wife."
Meng Yi said sourly, "It's all the same. The little girl's heart is known to everyone. Even if you picked up a blade of grass by the roadside and proposed with that, she would marry you in a heartbeat."
Wen Qian bumped Meng Yi with his shoulder. "Brother, hearing you say that, I feel at ease."
Upon learning that Wen Qian and Wen Taojun were in love and about to be betrothed, Meng Yi's heart was stricken. He stopped going to the barracks and spent his days drowning in wine.
On the day it happened, enemy forces attacked. Wen Qian ran to find Meng Yi, wanting to fight the enemy together, and discovered that Meng Yi was still drinking during a crisis. Enraged, Wen Qian dragged him out of the tavern. In the street, Meng Yi, in his drunken fury, began to quarrel with him.
Meng Yi's heart ached, and as he stared at Wen Qian, the jealousy in him burned ever hotter.
Why?
Was it only because he had come a few years later that everything was so different?
If the little girl had come to the Meng family back then, he would have cherished her and cared for her just as Wen Qian did.
So why couldn't she look at him a little more?
He was better at martial arts than Wen Qian, more learned, and his family's wealth was leagues beyond the Wen family's.
Wen Qian would stay in Yinzhou all his life, and his father Wen Shouan would never be more than a fifth-rank Protector. But he—he was a Meng. He was destined to soar.
He could even earn the little girl the title of a court lady!
If only Wen Qian didn't exist—then the little girl would be his.
The little girl, the little girl...
Meng Yi drew his blade and turned it on Wen Qian...
By the time he woke from the drunken impulse, the blade had already pierced through Wen Qian's chest.
He pulled the blade out.
Wen Qian collapsed to the ground, blood gushing from the wound.
He died on the spot.
Meng Yi was terrified. He turned and ran.
The jade pendant, already loosened from their earlier scuffle, fell to the ground just as he turned away.
The blood spread, soaking half of the pendant.
When he regained his senses from fear and regret and returned to find Wen Qian, he realized the jade pendant was gone.
He thought it over and over. He could not face the Wen family's questions, nor the hatred in the little girl's eyes. So as the Northern Liao invasion raged on, he pulled an enemy arrow from a corpse and stabbed it into Wen Qian's body.
It was wartime, with chaos and bloodshed everywhere. Even if anyone noticed that Wen Qian had a blade wound besides, they would assume it was done by enemy soldiers—no one would suspect him.
Afterward, he used his family's influence to investigate the beggars he vaguely remembered in the area, and to have the Wen family transferred away from Yinzhou.
He struggled, he suffered, he even considered taking his own life in repentance. In the end, he did nothing of the sort. Instead, he traveled a thousand miles to Yinzhou.
Part of him wanted to atone for his sins, and part of him—he missed the little girl. He missed her so terribly that he thought he would go mad.
Later, as the Wen family gradually emerged from their grief, he asked for Wen Taojun's hand in marriage, and the Wen family sent her to be his bride.
For more than twenty years since, they had lived side by side, in harmony as husband and wife, and they had children together.
He believed the nightmare of twenty-six years ago had passed.
Unexpectedly, Cao Jian returned with that jade pendant, saying to him: "General Meng, oh General Meng, who would have thought that the revered you are no different from mountain bandits—both kill and seize women."
Cao Jian repeatedly used the jade pendant to blackmail him. Unable to bear it any longer, he snuck into Cao Jian's study to search for the pendant but found nothing.
Later, someone used the same trick again, luring him onto a flower boat.
After boarding the flower boat, he spotted the familiar patterns on the pipa resting in Xinniang's arms and recalled that when Cao Jian had taken him to Huihua Tower last time, this woman had been present as well. So he pointed at Xinniang and ordered her to stay.
Xinniang handed her pipa to a singing girl to take away, then gracefully approached him, sitting beside him and pouring wine for him.
Every move was fawning and ingratiating.
But she seemed utterly unaccustomed to such coquettish gestures—her attempts were clumsy and awkward.
Xinniang said she had witnessed him kill a man with her own eyes, and spoke of how twenty-six years ago, she had disguised herself as a boy and lived as a beggar.
As she spoke, she stood up, swayed her hips, and settled into his lap, draping her arm over his shoulder, threatening him—telling him that if he took her as a concubine, she would return the jade pendant to him.
That was impossible.
In his entire life, he could never marry a second woman.
So, he seized Xinniang by the throat. At that moment, he genuinely entertained the thought of killing her, but with only the two of them on the boat, he could not act there. He flung her out of his embrace and stormed off in a rage.
A mere songstress—once he confirmed the pendant was in her possession, he had plenty of ways to retrieve it.
But what he never anticipated was that after he left, Xinniang was dead.
When the Kaifeng authorities came knocking, he finally understood why Xinniang, who had no talent for seduction, had so desperately tried to seduce him.
Her goal from the very beginning had never been to threaten him into marriage—it had always been to leave traces of Meng Yi's crime on her own body.
This was a carefully plotted frame-up.
The other side was certain he would not dare—dare to mention twenty-six years ago, dare to say openly how Xinniang had threatened him that day. So he had no choice but to accept the charge of murder.
He thought, if he hadn't done it, with Yan Tongshu's abilities, his innocence would surely be proven.
He thought he could still be as lucky as he was twenty-six years ago, escaping fate's judgment unscathed.
He never imagined that the delayed judgment, the delayed fate, would eventually drop the executioner's blade.
In truth, twenty-six years ago, he should already have died.
Meng Yi confessed everything.
Nourished by countless rivers of blood and tears, the truth was revealed to the world.
Inside and outside the courtroom, silence reigned.
Meng Zheng stood among the crowd, his entire body rigid, his limbs frozen cold.
Kneeling in the courtroom was his father.
The father he most revered and trusted, the one he had never once doubted.
The father who taught him righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trust, who taught him that martial arts were meant to defend the nation.
The father who was the great and lofty goal of his heart.
And now, there he knelt, like a soul in desolation, laying bare his ugly side, confessing his crimes.
That was a capital offense.
Meng Zheng didn't know what to say, didn't know what to do.
His great-uncle and great-aunt were still at the Meng residence.
His mother was still kneeling in the courtroom.
Everything was as absurd as a grotesque play.
His father had killed his mother's kin, her beloved, her brother.
His father, to win his mother, had killed the son of his great-uncle and great-aunt.
From this day forward, how would his great-uncle and great-aunt face his mother?
How would his mother face her great-uncle and great-aunt?
And what of his father?
What of himself?
Was he to watch his own father go to his death?
Family loyalty and moral conscience tore at him in a savage tug-of-war, nearly rending him in two.
Li Fulin and Zhang Jiu remained silent.
Yan Tongshu struck the gavel.
Crack!
The tremendous sound jolted everyone's nerves.
At that moment, Liao Zhu stepped out from the crowd and knelt on both knees: "Lord Yan, I, a common woman, can testify—Xinniang once told me..."
She recounted the story once more, but this time only covering twenty-six years. In Xinniang's case, without substantive evidence of suicide, simply relying on Meng Yi's confession could not overturn the verdict, and until the case was fully settled, she could not seek a retrial.
With physical evidence, witnesses, and a confession—whether for Xinniang or for Wen Qian—both cases warranted the death penalty.
Yan Tongshu pronounced the judgment in court: "According to the laws of this dynasty, one who kills without justifiable self-defense shall die..."
"Lord Yan!" Li Fulin urgently intervened, but with so many eyes in the courtroom, he could not speak openly. He could only frantically signal Yan Tongshu with his eyes.
Yan Tongshu looked straight ahead, ignoring him: "Bailiffs, take Meng Yi into the dungeon. In seven days, he will be executed at Caishikou."
Oh dear!
Li Fulin felt a pang in his chest—why was he so stubborn?
Yan Tongshu: "Court adjourned."
Stepping down from the hall, Yan Tongshu returned to his study and began writing the judgment document to be submitted to the Ministry of Justice.
Li Fulin rushed in urgently.
Zhang Jiu followed with steady steps behind him.
Seeing Li Fulin, Yan Tongshu handed the completed document to Pearl, instructing her to give it to Li Fulin, then lowered his head to continue writing: "Li Tongpan, you've arrived just in time. Given Meng Yi's special status, this execution document shall be presented by you to the Ministry of Justice—ideally, hand it directly to Old Chu. I trust they will approve it on the spot."
"Ah dear." Li Fulin pushed aside the tray Pearl was holding and approached the desk: "Lord Yan! This will offend the Emperor."
"It won't." Yan Tongshu remained bent over his writing, but his tone was resolute.
Li Fulin didn't understand: "What?"
Yan Tongshu's brush moved swiftly: "My meaning is, when the Ministry of Justice approves the Kaifeng Prefecture's judgment against Meng Yi, the Emperor will be very pleased."
The tone was too solemn, and Li Fulin was utterly perplexed.
Yan Tongshu set down his brush, folded the paper he had written, sealed it in an envelope, and only then raised his head to look at Li Fulin: "Li Tongpan, I spent eight years compiling texts at the Xianlin Pavilion. Do you know how many books the Xianlin Pavilion holds?"
Li Fulin shook his head.
"An uncountable number," Yan Tongshu said. "Tens of thousands of volumes of classics, histories, and philosophical works in the Xianlin Pavilion—eight years, and I still haven't finished reading them all. The past illuminates the present. The Emperor's mindset can be found throughout history; it's nothing new. Meng Yi committed a capital offense. I, upright and unyielding, judged him according to the law—nothing to be faulted. The Kaifeng Prefecture fulfilled its duty; the Meng family is the one at fault. I have cornered Meng Yi to death. The only way for the Meng family to save him is to beg the Emperor for a special decree of pardon. I have given the Emperor an opportunity to bestow great favor upon the Meng family. The Emperor will only see me as deferential and the Kaifeng Prefecture as attuned to his will. Of course, the Emperor may choose to grant the pardon—or he may choose to uphold the dignity of the law. It all rests on a single thought of His Majesty. So, Li Tongpan, go. Go to the Ministry of Justice. The Emperor will not blame the Kaifeng Prefecture. This game is being played between Prince Ming and His Majesty; we cannot influence it."
Li Fulin fell silent after hearing this.
Pearl, holding the tray, drew near him once more, and he reached out to take Yan Tongshu's personal document from the tray.
Yan Tongshu looked at Zhang Jiu, who had entered and remained silent throughout, his eyes complex: "Zhang Tongpan."
Zhang Jiu stepped forward: "Your subordinate is here."
Yan Tongshu’s eyes gradually filled with sorrow. “I remember back then when I was stopped by Xinniang at Tonghe Tower, she asked me a few questions. She asked whether it would still be possible even if the person in question held high rank and great merit. At the time, I said I would do my utmost to bring the truth before the public. She was very pleased to hear that answer. I think, in her heart, she knew that Meng Yi’s status and position were not something just anyone could shake. So her greatest wish must have been for the truth to be known to all. Judge Zhang, you have a way with words. Write this matter into a story and release it—entrust the truth to the common people.”
Zhang Jiu: “Yes, Lord Yan.”
Yan Tongshu lowered her head and wrote the final few words on the envelope’s cover, then stood up and stretched her body. “Alright, the matter is settled. Time for lunch. Come on, Pearl, call Jinbao—let’s go eat.”
Pearl hadn’t expected the conversation to shift so drastically, and for a moment she was caught off guard, but she still hurried to follow Yan Tongshu.
Nothing matters more than a good meal.
Zhang Jiu and Li Fulin exchanged a glance and walked together to the writing desk to see what Yan Tongshu had been writing.
The envelope bore only two characters: resignation.
Inside was a letter of resignation from office!
Lord Yan was resigning!
Yan Tongshu brought Pearl and Jinbao to Aunt Yang’s noodle stall.
Aunt Yang greeted her happily: “Lord Yan, you haven’t come by at noon in a long time.”
Yan Tongshu smiled. “I don’t know why, but today I’m especially craving your cooking, Aunt Yang.”
Hearing this, Aunt Yang’s face split into a wide grin. “Alright, alright—today I’ll give you the very, very biggest portion.”
“Mm.” Yan Tongshu gave a crisp reply, rested her hand on the table, propped her chin, and quietly waited for the noodles.
In truth, even if the emperor granted a special pardon to Meng Yi, she wouldn’t lose anything—at least the emperor would have no face left to refuse her resignation.
After resigning, she would be free of all official burdens. If she could find another excuse to leave the capital, who would ever know that this “young Master Yan” was actually a woman?
But…
Yan Tongshu lowered her eyes.
It was only a pity about those two lives.
Wen Qian.
Pu Xin.
If they learned, down in the netherworld, that the emperor had pardoned Meng Yi, how heartbroken they would be.
…
Li Fulin carried the official document from Kaifeng Prefecture to the Ministry of Justice. Sure enough, just as Yan Tongshu had predicted, Minister Chu Lishen personally approved and sealed it. The document went up the chain without obstruction, completing the entire process in just half an hour.
Li Fulin stood outside the Ministry of Justice, holding the document in his hand.
An official sedan chair stopped in front of him.
An official sedan chair?
Hah!
An official sedan chair should carry a true parent-official—one who treats the people as his parents, one who pleads for the people with the heart of a loving child.
But now?
The judgment against Meng Yi in his hand, even after being approved by the Ministry of Justice, felt as weightless as a scrap of paper.
Li Fulin clenched the document tightly, let out a sigh, and finally stepped into the sedan chair.
The Ministry of Justice wasted no time after Li Fulin left—they immediately spread the news.
Ning Yuan received the information and rode out to find Prince Ming.
At that moment, Prince Ming was in the bustling market, playing chess with someone.
He wore clothes of only moderate wealth, with a slightly stout figure—short and round.
He smiled cheerfully no matter who he spoke to.
Ning Yuan thought: if he hadn’t known Prince Ming, even if he brushed past this short, plump little old man a hundred or a thousand times, he would only ever assume the man was some small shopkeeper in Bianjing, content with his lot.
Prince Ming suddenly grabbed the gnarled hand of the old man with black pieces across from him. “Hey, Old Zhang, you’re sneaking pieces again. Fine me!”
He held out his hand. Old Zhang pursed his lips, reluctantly dug a single coin from his belt, and slapped it into Prince Ming’s palm with a click.
Prince Ming didn’t mind at all. He accepted it joyfully, blew on it, and wiped off the dust.
Old Zhang grumbled: “You old thing, you’ve won three games today already. If you keep playing like this, no one will play with you anymore.”
Prince Ming carefully placed the coin into his pouch. “Aren’t you playing with me?”
Old Zhang irritably scattered the pieces. “I’m not playing anymore.”
With that, he rose and left, and Prince Ming called after him: “This game counts as your forfeit. Next time you come looking for a game, you can’t do that.”
Old Zhang didn’t look back. “Hmph. If I ever ask you to play again, I’m a turtle bastard.”
Prince Ming smiled and began putting the scattered board back in order. “Haven’t you said that every single time? And yet, next time, you’ll be itching to play again, begging me for a game.”
Ning Yuan sat down across from Prince Ming and said, “Uncle.”
“You’re here.” Prince Ming didn’t look up as he spoke. He swapped his white pieces with the black pieces in front of Ning Yuan, and the smile on his face faded slightly.
Prince Ming picked up a white piece and handed it to Ning Yuan. Ning Yuan took it and studied the situation on the board. “Uncle, the document from Kaifeng Prefecture has been approved. That Yan Tongshu really is an excessively upright and inflexible person.”
Prince Ming smiled and picked up a black piece.
Just now, Old Zhang had realized his black pieces were trapped and thought there was no way out.
Now, with the black pieces in his own hands, could that trap not also be turned into an opportunity?
Someone like Yan Tongshu—if the emperor could use her as a blade, why couldn’t he?
Ning Yuan said worriedly, “But, Uncle, if the emperor pardons Meng Yi, that would be an enormous favor to the Meng family.”
Prince Ming looked up, meeting Ning Yuan’s eyes. “If the emperor pardons Meng Yi and keeps the Meng family, he will lose Yan Tongshu as his blade and lose all trust from the Kaifeng Prefecture. If he doesn’t pardon Meng Yi, he keeps Yan Tongshu as his blade but alienates the Meng family. This game…”
Smack.
The black piece landed.
Prince Ming smiled. “…No matter what, I am the winner.”
Ning Yuan instinctively looked at where the black piece had fallen.
By a single move, the black pieces turned the tide—victory was all but assured.
…
The Meng residence.
Grief. Oppression. Cries rose and fell without end.
Meng Zheng stood at the doorway.
Wen Taojun knelt before Wen Shouan and Wu Yao, confessing everything.
Twenty-six years of deception. It wasn’t just Wen Taojun who couldn’t accept it—Wen Shouan and Wu Yao couldn’t accept it either.
Twenty-six years. They had come to regard Meng Yi as their most beloved son-in-law, as half a son.
But now, suddenly, they were told that their son-in-law had killed the son they had pinned their greatest hopes upon.
And for the sake of their little niece, whom they had cherished all their lives.
The elderly couple collapsed into their chairs. In an instant, they seemed to have aged beyond measure, drained of all vitality.
In truth, even if Wen Taojun hadn’t spoken up, it couldn’t have been hidden.
The trial at the Kaifeng Prefecture court had been witnessed by so many people—word of mouth would spread the news across all of Bianjing within a single night.
“Where is Meng Yi!”
Wen Shouan suddenly rose from his chair, tears streaming down the furrows of his weathered face. “I will kill him with my own hands!”
Wen Taojun remained on her knees. Meng Yi was a sinner, and as his wife, she was one too.
Wen Taojun wept: “He’s in the Kaifeng Prefecture dungeon. Lord Yan has sentenced him to death.”
Death sentence.
Wen Shouan staggered and sat back down.
All these years, though he had grown old and his body was no longer what it had been, he had always faced the enemy in Yanzhou with iron resolve on the battlefield. Never had he felt so powerless as he did at this moment.
His son was dead.
The little niece he had loved with all his heart had married the murderer.
Now the truth had come to light, and the murderer would pay with his life.
It seemed justice had been served.
But he was in so much pain. He gripped Wu Yao's hand tightly, knowing she felt the same agony he did.
Justice had come twenty-six years too late.
They had been deceived for twenty-six years.
The murderer was going to serve his sentence, and there was nothing they could do about it.
Their young niece had treated them like her own parents, and she had even exposed the killer's crimes.
They couldn't blame her, either.
Everything seemed so fair, so just.
But it hurt so much.
There wasn't even an outlet for their grief.
No.
They would go and confront Meng Yi.
They owed their son that much—to demand justice, to demand answers from Meng Yi.
Wen Shouan helped the sobbing Wu Yao to her feet. "Come. We're going to the Prefect's office. We'll ask that beast where his conscience has gone."
Wu Yao nodded.
Wen Taojun dared not stop them. She could only follow.
The three of them had just reached the courtyard when Duan Duo burst in. He charged up to Wen Taojun, his face blazing with fury. "Sister-in-law, why did you do this?"
Wen Shouan and Wu Yao were old and in their deepest sorrow, so Wen Taojun stepped in front of the elder couple. "If you have something to say, say it to me."
Duan Duo let out a savage curse, glaring at Wen Taojun with murderous intensity. "I asked you why the hell you did this!"
Wen Taojun met Duan Duo's gaze without flinching. "He killed someone. Do you understand that, Duan Duo? He killed my eldest brother!"
"But he's your husband!" Duan Duo's eyes were as fierce as a wolf's. "He killed that Wen whatever-his-name for you. For you. He loved you his entire life. Look around—who in this world takes only one wife? How many men don't keep concubines or chambermaids? My eldest brother, for your sake, had only you—one woman—his whole life.
Go ask anyone in the Divine Guard Army. Everyone knows that Meng Yi fears Heaven and Earth but fears his wife the most. Why do you think every man in the Divine Guard calls you sister-in-law and treats you with such respect? It's because of him—because of my eldest brother!"
Wen Taojun countered with sharp clarity: "That doesn't excuse murder born of his own greed. My eldest brother—he was loyal to his country, he devoted his life to guarding the people of Yinzhou. Even in tactical retreats, he was always the last to leave. But he didn't die at the hands of the enemy. He died at the hands of the man he trusted most."
