The next morning, at the Qin Prince's Mansion.
"The rain lasted all night," Song Shihuan murmured, pulling her sleeves tighter as she stood beneath the eaves.
Baoxia hurried back and bowed to Song Shihuan.
"Did you find out anything?" Song Shihuan had heard the sound of the grievance drum the night before and had been restless all night, sensing something ominous.
"Princess, it was Lady Cui who struck the drum. She hasn’t been seen outside the Cui Mansion in years—turns out she’s gone mad," Baoxia said, patting her chest in lingering fear. "Lady Cui personally accused the Cui family of burying twelve female corpses in their garden."
"Female corpses?"
Song Shihuan’s expression shifted.
"They say they were all young girls too. What a tragedy."
Twelve female corpses, all children.
The connection sent a ripple of familiarity through Song Shihuan, stirring memories. The year her grandmother passed, she had been kidnapped by bandits and taken to the outskirts of the capital. At the time, she had been locked in a courtyard with exactly twelve other girls around her age.
But... Song Shihuan suppressed her suspicion.
Back then, she had knocked out the bandits with a stone and told the girls to flee before leaving herself. So the bones in the Cui Mansion couldn’t be related to that incident.
It was just an eerie coincidence in numbers.
A sigh escaped her as she closed her eyes. Twelve innocent lives—what a waste.
"Princess, there’s no need to worry. The Dali Temple will get to the bottom of this," Baoxia reassured her.
......
At the Dali Temple.
Cui Qian had been thrown into prison. Given the horrifying nature of the case, the Dali Temple subjected him to nearly every torture method they had.
Yet Cui Qian stubbornly insisted he knew nothing.
"Who would’ve thought Minister Cui, so frail in appearance, has such a strong will," Wu Ming, the Deputy Minister of the Dali Temple, remarked, staring at the bloodied man before him. "There are only twelve corpses, so why are there thirteen portraits?"
"The other twelve portraits are covered in dust, yet this one is clean and placed right in the center."
The corpses had long turned to bones, making it impossible to match them to the portraits.
The only clue was this peculiar portrait.
At Wu Ming’s words, Cui Qian lifted his head with effort. When his eyes landed on the portrait, he let out a low chuckle.
"I’ve told you, I know nothing about these bones or the portraits."
"Do you really want me to subject you to every torture we have?" Wu Ming’s gaze turned fierce.
"Minister Wu, if you can find the girl in this portrait... perhaps then I’ll remember something," Cui Qian said before falling silent again.
No matter how many lashes he endured, he refused to speak another word.
Left with no choice, Wu Ming returned to the Wu residence.
"Why has the Princess of Qi come back?" Wu Qi frowned instinctively at the sight of her. "This case has thrown the entire capital into turmoil. It’s far more complicated than any we’ve handled before."
After hearing Wu Qi’s account of the interrogation, the Princess of Qi grew uneasy. "It seems Cui Qian won’t talk unless that girl in the portrait is found."
"Just who is she, to make him so fixated?"
When the Princess of Qi took the portrait from Wu Qi and unfolded it, she froze as if struck by lightning.
The person in the portrait...
bore an uncanny resemblance—nine parts out of ten—to Song Shihuan when she had first been brought back to the Qin Prince's Mansion.
"Father, I must take this to the Prince of Qi," she said, her face paling. Before leaving, she repeatedly warned Wu Qi not to act until he heard back from her.
On the way back, her heart pounded violently.
Princess Fu'an, of all people, entangled in such a horrifying case.
......
"That’s Song Shihuan!"
The Prince of Qi shot to his feet. "Especially those eyes—I’d recognize them anywhere."
"Then... what should we do?" The Princess of Qi, now entangled with the Wu family, was at a loss.
"I’ll speak to the Crown Princess."
Cautious by nature, the Prince of Qi hid the portrait carefully and used Consort Mei as a messenger to relay the information to Shen Hua'er.
At the Jianjia Palace.
"Aunt, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for us," Shen Hua'er said, her eyes gleaming. "Once she’s implicated, it’ll be a stain she can never wash off."
Consort Mei nodded in agreement.
"Fourth Brother, before the Prince of Qin learns the truth, have the Dali Temple spread the portrait across the capital. Post it everywhere. Then... find a way to let everyone know the girl in the portrait is Princess Fu'an."
Having the Dali Temple search for the girl was standard procedure—no one could fault them for it.
They were merely ensuring the portrait spread faster and wider.
"Good. I’ll inform Wu Qi immediately," the Prince of Qi said, a strange fervor in his eyes. "If Song Shihuan falls because of this, then the matter of accompanying the Emperor for the sacrificial rites..."
"...will no longer involve the Qin Prince's Mansion," Shen Hua'er finished, a triumphant smile curling her lips.
Heaven itself was aiding her.
In the following days, Song Shihuan’s portrait flooded the capital, plastered on every street corner. And all of it was deliberately kept from the Qin Prince's Mansion.
"I heard the Dali Temple singled out that suspicious portrait and posted it everywhere."
Shen Qingping pulled out a crumpled ball of paper from his sleeve—a child had torn it off a wall and tossed it at him before he could even look.
As he smoothed it out, Song Yu leaned in. "Let me see this portrait too."
But the next second, Song Yu’s blood rushed to his head.
"How is this Ah Huan?"
At his words, Shen Qingping dropped the portrait in shock, his hands trembling.
"I must have the Dali Temple take these down at once!"
Song Yu’s mind reeled as he stormed toward the mansion gates.
But the moment he stepped outside, he saw Prince Chu and Prince Qi approaching, followed by a crowd of onlookers.
A terrible premonition gripped him, and his vision darkened at the edges.
Then Prince Chu’s voice rang out, loud and deliberate, ensuring the crowd behind him heard every word:
"Elder Brother, doesn’t the child in this portrait look exactly like Ah Huan?"
