Want to dig up Song Ling’s corpse and whip it?
Shen Qingping was momentarily stunned by the question, a shadow flickering swiftly in his eyes before he calmly replied:
"When His Highness ascends the throne, just give the order, and I, Shen Qingping, will personally whip the corpse for you, sparing Your Highness the indignity of dirtying your hands."
Shen Qingping didn’t press for details about what had happened in the dream, merely offering a light laugh as he handed the metaphorical blade to the furious Song Yu.
His loyalty lay solely with the prince and the princess. Whoever harmed them was his enemy—nothing else mattered.
Nor did he care how much infamy he would shoulder for it.
"Since Your Highness is resolved to deal with the Ping Prince's Mansion, we should further stoke the flames regarding Song Yanchao’s affairs."
Song Yu chuckled. "Precisely my thoughts."
As their gazes met, Song Yu arched a brow:
"Does Grand Tutor Shen know about your demand for your elder brother’s family to drown themselves?"
"I spoke to my father before coming here."
At the mention of Shen Qinghui, Shen Qingping’s expression darkened. "My father served the court with trembling caution for decades, yet for the first time, he faced impeachment from the entire court. After returning home, he spent hours in the ancestral hall."
"When he emerged, he ordered me to settle my affairs and rush to Laijin Prefecture immediately."
"Grand Tutor Shen has suffered greatly."
Song Yu exhaled deeply. In three days, the flood disaster in Laijin Prefecture would finally be laid to rest.
Meanwhile, the people of Laijin Prefecture endured each day as if it were a year, counting down to the third day. The banks of the Mi River were strewn with wildflowers and steamed buns—offerings from the bereaved mourning their lost loved ones.
A stir rippled through the crowd.
The people turned to see Song Shihuan, surrounded by attendants, approaching.
"Greetings, Princess."
"Rise, all of you." Song Shihuan smiled gently. "I’ve just inspected the area. The homes destroyed by the flood will soon be rebuilt—you need not worry."
Like the others, she carried a bouquet of wildflowers, which she laid by the riverbank.
"And you—rest assured as well."
These words, she spoke to the churning waters of the Mi River.
"Princess, we now await the day the Mi River runs red with blood."
Seeing the red-rimmed eyes of the people, Song Shihuan nodded. "I share your hope."
Half an hour later, she departed the riverbank.
"Princess, the people understand the gravity of the situation. There will be no unrest." Baoxia, attuned to Song Shihuan’s worries, reassured her. The death toll in Laijin Prefecture was too high, and the princess feared the people’s fury might erupt into irreversible chaos.
Song Shihuan nodded, then added after a pause:
"Baoxia, have Liuxi spread word of Song Yanchao’s deeds even further—especially in the neighboring prefects. Let our Second Imperial Grandson bask in his newfound notoriety."
Local officials also held the power to impeach. If she let such an opportunity slip, she wouldn’t deserve the name Song Shihuan!
"Let Song Yanchao taste the bitterness of being denounced by the entire court."
"Yes."
That night, Liuxi received the same orders from Song Yu.
"Your Highness, the princess gave identical instructions earlier today."
Song Yu paused, then laughed softly.
"It seems Ah Huan and I are of one mind."
...
Three days later.
At dawn, the Mi River was packed with onlookers. Unlike past executions, where the crowd shrank in fear, this time the people strained their eyes wide, some clutching ancestral tablets.
Xie Zhiyi’s legs gave out entirely—he had to be carried to the riverbank by soldiers.
"Criminal Xie Zhiyi, commence execution!"
At Song Yu’s command, the executioner took a swig of liquor and sprayed it onto his blade. Moments later, an agonized scream pierced the sky.
"Xie clan members, behead!"
Another icy decree, and hundreds of Xie family heads rolled. The corpses were burned on the spot.
Flames roared, staining the sky crimson.
"The Great Qi will never tolerate officials like Xie Zhiyi—not now, not ever."
Song Yu’s steely voice carried to every ear. "Those who govern must protect the people. Let Xie Zhiyi serve as a warning—be true and just officials."
The Mi River surged onward, the stench of smoke thick in the air, yet Song Yu’s image grew ever clearer in the people’s hearts.
After Xie Zhiyi’s execution, Shen Qinghui’s family was brought forth.
"Uncle, save me!" Shen Zhikui cried the moment he saw Shen Qingping, his face twisted in despair. "I—I’ve just been betrothed, I haven’t even married yet, there’s so much I haven’t done—I don’t want to die!"
But Shen Qingping’s expression remained unmoved.
Before the crowd, he knelt and bowed deeply. "The Shen family bears responsibility for Laijin Prefecture’s suffering. I pledge that we will donate silver and labor to rebuild your homes. Furthermore, we will establish a school here and send Shen clansmen to teach, offering what little we can."
"As for Shen Qinghui and his family—they will drown themselves in the river. This is our atonement."
Silence fell.
The people knew Shen Qinghui had already been disowned, so Shen Qingping’s actions stunned them.
"Elder Brother, Sister-in-Law, Zhikui—go now."
Shen Qingping patted Shen Zhikui’s shoulder. "With so many lives on your conscience, don’t drag an innocent girl into this. Don’t let this shame mark you and your descendants."
Shen Zhikui sobbed uncontrollably.
Madam Lin glared venomously at Shen Qingping.
"The Shen family’s honor cannot bear even a speck of disgrace."
The Shen family’s honor...
Hearing this, Shen Qinghui threw his head back and laughed wildly before leaping into the Mi River.
He had prided himself on upholding the Shen legacy—only to realize he was the one who had tarnished it.
Madam Lin and Shen Zhikui followed. Shen Qingping watched as the waters stilled, then slowly rose to his feet.
He staggered, nearly collapsing.
At the same time, in the Shen residence...
"My lord, this autumn chill feels unnatural for August." Lady Shen pulled her robes tighter, her face pale.
"My lady, Qinghui... had no other path." Shen Mingwen had aged decades in days. "Too many died in Laijin Prefecture. Alive, he would forever be a thorn in the eyes of the court and the people."
The emperor valued the Shen family, but they dared not overstep.
"Better to preserve our dignity in the end."
Scholars fear not death.
Only the loss of integrity.
"If there is an afterlife, we’ll raise Qinghui anew."
