"Go in?"
"Go!"
Song Shihuan and Gu Mingzhu exchanged a glance before charging toward the source of the commotion.
The door was kicked open by Song Shihuan. Inside, a man stood with a liquor jug raised high, while a woman, bruised and battered, cowered in the corner.
"Who the hell are you? Two little brats dare to break down my door?" The man smashed the jug to the ground and spat in Song Shihuan’s direction.
"Your breath stinks."
Gu Mingzhu spoke bluntly, pinching her nose in disgust.
How could a foul man like this even have a wife?
"And you beat people—your character is rotten."
Their intervention had drawn a crowd. The onlookers watched Gu Mingzhu, struck by how much the young girl resembled a righteous judge.
She spoke the truth everyone was thinking.
"Damn it, since when do brats like you dare lecture me?" The man’s face twisted in rage. "This woman was bought with my hard-earned money. I’ll beat her however I please!"
Just as he moved to strike Gu Mingzhu, patrolling officers arrived. But upon hearing it was a marital dispute, they instinctively dismissed it as trivial—after all, couples fight and make up.
"A noble guest is attending the lantern festival tonight. Don’t cause a scene," the lead officer said, his tone condescending.
Disturbing the nobility would bring punishment from above.
"You’re just going to ignore her injuries?"
Song Shihuan, who had remained silent until now, spoke up. The street lanterns illuminated the woman’s wounds in stark clarity.
"Officers, this woman didn’t cook dinner on time. I only meant to teach her a lesson—didn’t mean to trouble you. My apologies." The man’s demeanor shifted entirely, his voice ingratiating and servile.
A complete contrast to his earlier brutality.
"Apply some ointment to your wife later," the officer instructed dismissively.
Before leaving, he leaned toward the woman. "A wife must obey her husband. Neglecting your duties is wrong. Don’t let it happen again."
As the officers turned to go, Song Shihuan blocked their path.
"That’s it? No questions, no justice—just sweeping it under the rug?"
Her icy smile sent a chill down their spines.
......
When the officers stayed silent, fury burned in Song Shihuan’s eyes. She strode to the woman.
"Does he beat you often?"
"Tell me the truth. I’ll keep you safe."
The woman studied the young girl before her. Though small in stature, there was an undeniable authority about her.
"Every... every day."
"Lies!" The man lunged forward, but Gu Mingzhu’s swift kick sent him reeling, howling in pain.
"What reasons does he give?"
"Any reason. If he wants to hit me, he finds one." The woman’s voice cracked. "I spent all afternoon washing clothes—if I don’t finish, he beats me. But because I was washing, I was late cooking dinner... so he beat me again."
"Did you report him?" Song Shihuan’s voice turned glacial.
"Yes. After the officers ‘talked’ to him, the beatings got worse."
Her sobs weighed heavily on the crowd, suffocating the air with sorrow.
"Where does he usually hit you?"
The woman pointed to several spots.
Without hesitation, Song Shihuan walked to the man.
One strike.
Two.
Three.
Each blow drew a more agonized scream.
The officers moved to intervene, but Gu Mingzhu stopped them cold.
"Take another step, and you won’t live to regret it."
Everyone watched as Song Shihuan unleashed her wrath.
"Does hitting a woman make you feel powerful? If you’re so strong, why not fight a man your size?"
"Just because she’s your wife, you think you own her?"
"Lay a hand on a woman, and I’ll end you."
In the Great Qi dynasty, propriety was sacred. Even nobles hid their abuse of servants—let alone a commoner beating his lawfully wedded wife.
Such acts defied all moral codes.
Yet because they were married, his cruelty went unchecked.
"Mercy! Please, mercy!"
The man writhed, certain he was about to die.
The officers grew restless. A death would ruin them. Hands drifted toward their swords—
"Who dared upset Her Highness, forcing her to dirty her own hands?"
A voice cut through the tension. Shen Qingping emerged from the lantern-lit street, draped in a pristine cloak, his expression deceptively mild.
"Lord Shen," Gu Mingzhu chirped.
The crowd paled.
Her Highness?
Lord Shen?
Then the other girl must be—
"Mingzhu, General Gu is searching for you," Shen Qingping said lightly. "If you don’t return soon, he’ll storm this place himself."
The crowd shuddered. The second daughter of the Gu family!
The officers nearly fainted.
They’d almost drawn blades against Princess Fu’an.
"This man beats his wife. I won’t tolerate it." Song Shihuan kicked the groaning man again. "I despise worthless men."
Shen Qingping’s gaze turned lethal. "Write a divorce decree. You leave with nothing."
"I—I can’t write," the man gasped.
"Then mark it with your thumb."
Within minutes, Shen Qingping handed the decree to the woman. "You’re free."
He then removed his cloak and draped it over Song Shihuan’s shoulders. "Does Her Highness wish to stay longer?"
She shook her head.
"Then let Nian’an escort you and Lady Gu back. I’ll handle the rest."
Seeing the raw bruises on Song Shihuan’s knuckles, a murderous rage swelled in Shen Qingping’s chest.
"My thanks, Teacher."
Only in the carriage did Song Shihuan finally steady her breath.
When she’d burst in, the man had been moments from smashing that jug over his wife’s skull—a blow that could’ve killed or crippled her.
The sheer audacity!
After her departure, Shen Qingping looked down at the man and laughed coldly. "Take him to the cells. Show him... hospitality."
"These officers too."
"And tell the Capital Magistrate to crawl here and explain himself."
