Ye Rou was a light sleeper. Upon hearing a noise outside, she first assumed it was a servant rising for the night. But after listening more closely, she realized the sound came from the direction of Banyue Pond. Ye Jiao lived near Banyue Pond and had always been a sound sleeper. Since she was three or four, Ye Jiao could settle into bed and fall asleep instantly, never waking throughout the night. Was it the unfamiliar surroundings that disturbed her this time?
Unable to quell her worry for her younger sister, Ye Rou asked a maid to support her as she went to investigate. Just then, the voices faded into silence. Peering intently along the path, Ye Rou slowly made her way to the edge of Banyue Pond, where she saw a figure furiously digging into the earth. The silhouette under the moonlight was both familiar and strange. Familiar was the shape; strange was the aura—and when the figure raised his head, the bloodied, contorted face sent a chill through her.
"My husband! What has happened to you?" Ye Rou snatched the lantern from the maid's trembling hands and staggered closer. Shadows from the lantern and moonlight intertwined, revealing a person lying half-buried in the pit.
"Who is this?" Ye Rou bent down and glanced nervously toward the pavilion. Fear gripped her heart instantly. The lantern slipped from her hands, tumbling to the ground in a blaze.
Kneeling, her hands trembling, she plunged into the shallow pit, frantically clawing at the soil, desperate to uncover the half-buried figure. She cared neither for dirt nor blood, nor dared to ascend the pavilion to confirm her fears—she was terrified the figure might be her sister.
"Who is it? Who?" she screamed almost hysterically.
"You don't know!" Qian Yougong roughly pulled Ye Rou up and snapped, "Get out of the way! This man tried to harm Ye Jiao; I stopped him."
Stopped? By burying him alive? The maid was already too frightened to stand. Ye Rou was shaken and terrified but shook her head firmly.
"No! This can't be! Husband, we must report this to the authorities! He broke in to commit violence first; now that you bury him, nothing can be proven."
"Do you understand?" Qian Yougong sneered, "He's the son of the Minister of Revenue."
The Minister of Revenue's son... Ye Rou stared at her husband, feverishly filling the pit, suddenly understanding.
Could this be Qian Yougong's attempt to arrange an illicit liaison for Ye Jiao?
"How did he know where my sister lived? How did he find this place? You brought him here! Where is Jiao Jiao?" Ye Rou clutched Qian Yougong's arm, frenzied. She dared not go upstairs—dared not imagine what her unwed sister had endured tonight. Yan Congxiao's death was deserved, but what about her sister?
Qian Yougong impatiently brushed her off. One more shovelful would bury Yan Congxiao's battered face. But Ye Rou grabbed him again, struggling wildly. Enraged, Qian Yougong seized the iron shovel and struck her to the ground.
"Wretch!" He snarled like a cornered beast deprived of its prey, now hunted by another predator.
Ye Rou curled her legs protectively over her abdomen, too frightened to resist further. After a moment's respite, she used all her strength to crawl toward the pavilion.
"Jiao Jiao..." she whispered, tears flooding down.
It was all her fault. She was a terrible sister.
Pain bloomed in her abdomen, contracting and twisting, radiating from deep within her bones, making each step agonizing. Ye Rou felt death near, but before she succumbed, she had to find her sister.
The pavilion was pitch-black—no maid, no personal nurse. Ye Rou pushed open the door, calling Ye Jiao's name, searching for a candleholder. None was found, but several beams of light and voices spilled into the room as torches flared outside.
Scores of torches surged into the Qian estate, rousing the servants and nurses, disturbing Qian Yougong, who was burying a corpse in the dead of night.
"Qian Yougong! You're accused of murder! Surrender at once!" The voices rang out.
Bloodied and breathless, Qian Yougong stood at the edge of Banyue Pond, clutching his chest, as if his soul had fled, unable to move.
The torchlight illuminated the faces of his pursuers—the bailiffs of Jingzhao Prefecture, the enforcers of the neighborhood, and Qian Yougong's superior, Liu Yan, the Prefect of Jingzhao.
Ye Rou could no longer stand and slid down against a pillar.
Originally, Ye Jiao planned to borrow an outer garment to report the crime. But the man wandering the night recognized Prefect Liu Yan himself.
He fastened his clothes, took the reins alone, and parked the carriage outside Jingzhao Prefecture. Before stepping down, he spoke from behind the curtain.
"Miss Ye," his voice grave, "are you certain you want to accuse Qian Yougong and not regret it?"
So many live in fear, accepting suffering rather than rising to resist, each step trembling and uncertain.
"No regrets." The voice inside the carriage was resolute, like the three arrows she had loosed on the Imperial Street that day.
Li Ce pushed open the prefecture gates, spent barely a quarter-hour inside, and quickly emerged to drive away.
"How did it go?" Ye Jiao asked.
"Liu Yan hasn't slept yet; it should be swift," Li Ce replied.
Ye Jiao drew back the curtain and gazed at Li Ce's pale face under the moonlight. He looked frail—perhaps chilled by the night air—occasionally coughing softly. Yet beneath his fragile guise lurked an icy resolve.
"Where are you headed?" Ye Jiao asked.
"I'm driving; I'm going to the Qian household," he answered.
At such a time, she wanted to stay with her sister.
"No," Li Ce refused decisively.
"Why not?" Ye Jiao arched an eyebrow.
Li Ce coughed and turned away. "I'm cowardly."
Cowardly? After bravely entering the austere prefecture to help her report the crime against an official, he now claimed cowardice? A lie.
With a feeble tone and occasional cough, he said, "Who knows if you can really bring down Qian Yougong? I don't provoke anyone in the government."
Ye Jiao, frantic, nearly jumped from the carriage, but Li Ce blocked her.
"They'll send word soon," he soothed. "Besides, in that outfit, how could you face the officials?"
He steered her through winding alleys and opened another neighborhood gate, driving into a small street. Li Ce dismounted and knocked again.
The door opened immediately, a barrier removed inside. The horse seemed to know the way, drawing the carriage in.
The courtyard was tranquil; the main house lit softly, servants nowhere to be seen.
Li Ce lifted the curtain.
"There's medicine and clothing inside. Hot water will be brought shortly."
Despite his frailty, the young lord's arrangements were meticulous.
Ye Jiao finally understood why he had brought her here.
This man was truly admirable—omnipresent, having swindled her of gold before, yet in this moment of crisis, she was grateful for his presence.
She wanted to thank him, but a simple "thank you" felt utterly insufficient.
Stepping down, she patted her nightgown sleeves—empty inside—and then swept back her hair, realizing she hadn't removed her hairpins from the restless night.
"Hold out your hands," she said to Li Ce.
He looked puzzled, but Ye Jiao clasped both his hands, palms up, and began removing her ornaments from her head—pearl flowers, coral pins, phoenix-tail golden hairpins, jade-inlaid jewels—one by one, shimmering jewels placed gently in his hands. Her ebony hair fell loose, cascading down to her waist.
Li Ce stared, momentarily stunned.
Ye Jiao sighed with relief.
"Thank you for your help tonight. This is a token of my gratitude."
Her face no longer held the initial panic, replaced by a charming blend of innocence and generosity.
That was far too much, Li Ce thought.
She truly was lavish, spending as if money flowed like water. No wonder the Duke's household was becoming impoverished.
Ye Jiao turned toward the main house; her thin nightgown glowed faintly in the candlelight. Li Ce hastily closed his eyes, and when he reopened them, she had already shut the door.
Li Ce stood in the courtyard, long uncertain of what to do next. His hands were heavy and radiant.
The room was small yet exquisite, modestly furnished but tasteful.
The wound dressing box was opened; Ye Jiao carefully applied medicine in front of a mirror.
Soon, a maid brought a bathing tub.
Ye Jiao bathed, avoiding the wound on her neck.
When she emerged, clothes and shoes were prepared—simple garments from a local tailor. She wondered how Li Ce had procured them.
She realized she still didn't know his name.
Dressed and with her hair half-dried, she pushed the door open.
Worrying about her sister, she intended to return early.
Li Ce stood in the courtyard, talking with a man in official attire.
Ye Jiao's heart tightened.
Hearing the noise, he turned, his eyes, once calm, now chillingly resolute.
"What's wrong?" Ye Jiao asked.
"Your sister is not well," Li Ce replied.
The Jingzhao officials arrived swiftly, apprehended Qian Yougong, and found Yan Congxiao's corpse.
But Ye Rou's abdomen had been severely struck, and she was beginning to hemorrhage.
When Ye Jiao reached the Qian residence, the matriarch was overseeing the doctor's treatment.
"Should we burn moxa? Hurry and prepare the medicine! The child must be saved!" the matriarch exclaimed anxiously.
Ye Jiao's mind whirled.
Her sister, her family—everything was in chaos.
This night was unlike any before, and the dawn was coming slowly, bringing with it an uncertain fate.