Volume One, Chapter 15: The Trial of Mistress Zhuang

It was late at night, and the entire household had long since fallen asleep. Only a single lantern hung beneath the corridor of the main residence at Bamboo Grove Garden, casting a tranquil glow in the stillness.

The three of them entered Leng Yueheng’s room.

Mistress Zhuang leaned against the small couch, waiting for Leng Yueheng. She was slightly surprised to see the three enter but quickly composed herself.

Leng Yueheng introduced Prince Ji, and Mistress Zhuang respectfully bowed.

Watching Mistress Zhuang’s composed demeanor, Leng Yueheng sensed that this middle-aged woman harbored a complex past.

However, based on her own memories, Mistress Zhuang bore no ill will toward her, and Leng Yueheng felt confident in her judgment of character.

“Do you know about General Qin’s family massacre?” Yan Beiyuan asked directly.

Leng Yueheng keenly observed Mistress Zhuang’s reaction.

Mistress Zhuang showed no surprise but nodded slightly, then glanced toward Wu Ying standing nearby.

“He is my trusted confidant,” Yan Beiyuan reassured, sensing Mistress Zhuang’s unease.

Mistress Zhuang looked out the window—no one was there. Her eyes seemed distant, as if old wounds had been reopened, and the pain from years ago surged anew.

“My lord, I had intended to take this secret to my grave, but since you ask, I shall tell you. My daughter was once the chief maid in General Qin’s household. When the tragedy befell them, I went to claim her body. Hidden within her clothing, I found this,” Mistress Zhuang spoke slowly, her expression solemn, as if she had awaited this moment for a very long time.

She carefully produced a token from her bosom. The iron token was rusted and worn, but under the lantern light, the faded characters were still discernible.

Yan Beiyuan took the token to examine it.

“This is a token from the Jingzhao Prefecture!” His eyes narrowed as he studied Mistress Zhuang intently, deep in thought.

“Why did you not report this afterward?” Wu Ying asked aloud.

“I am but a humble servant. Where would I report to? Moreover, this token proves nothing. If the Jingzhao Prefecture were truly responsible, I would have fled for my life long ago,” Mistress Zhuang replied, sorrow welling in her eyes.

“And then?” Yan Beiyuan pressed.

Mistress Zhuang’s gaze flickered momentarily as if avoiding the question, but it passed quickly.

“Afterward, I served Madam Tian of the Leng household.”

Leng Yueheng noticed Mistress Zhuang seemed to be withholding something, perhaps out of respect for the prince’s status.

“Then how do you know Madam Jiang from the Chancellor’s residence?” Yan Beiyuan doubted Mistress Zhuang’s words; the old servant was clearly hiding something.

“I do not know any Madam Jiang from the Chancellor’s household,” Mistress Zhuang said, glancing at Leng Yueheng.

“Prince, what position did Chancellor Zhao hold seventeen years ago?”

“The Prefect of Jingzhao,” Yan Beiyuan replied, regaining his composure.

If Mistress Zhuang was in Chancellor Zhao’s employ, she would never have handed him this token.

“Mistress Zhuang serves by my side. If someone wanted to lure you into my courtyard, she would be the perfect pretext,” Leng Yueheng calmly explained. “Besides, Mistress Zhuang has been with me since birth.”

Yan Beiyuan nodded slowly while gazing at Mistress Zhuang, then looked at Leng Yueheng with a faint, amused smile.

“When will you return my jade pendant?”

Leng Yueheng was momentarily caught off guard, then retrieved the pendant and handed it over respectfully.

“Oh! So it was you who stole it!” Wu Ying suddenly realized, his tone teasing.

Yan Beiyuan shot Wu Ying a glare, his ears involuntarily reddening—truly, that night had been… intense.

He had noticed Leng Yueheng had taken his pendant but strangely had not exposed her.

“It was given to me by your prince,” Leng Yueheng shamelessly replied to Wu Ying, all the while watching Yan Beiyuan’s expression.

The prince surely wouldn’t betray her; the pendant had been missing for a long time without him asking for it back—this spoke volumes about his attitude.

Yan Beiyuan coughed awkwardly, took back the pendant, and left.

Once they were alone, Leng Yueheng turned to Mistress Zhuang and asked, “Mistress, were you hiding something just now?”

Mistress Zhuang was fetching nightclothes for Leng Yueheng when she suddenly paused before recovering her composure.

“Nothing much. I just wanted to tell the prince that Zhao Siya might have taken a liking to Young Master Xiao.”

“You even know this?” Leng Yueheng’s eyes widened.

Mistress Zhuang was clearly no ordinary servant. She had uncovered the secrets that the prince and I had painstakingly sought—but, no, she had known all along?

“Which young lady of the officials’ families in the capital wouldn’t want to marry Young Master Xiao? It’s no surprise that I know.”

“Alright then, Mistress Zhuang, if you won’t speak, I won’t press you,” Leng Yueheng said, unwilling to push further.

“Miss, rest well. You only need to know that I would never harm you,” Mistress Zhuang assured her.

Watching the retreating figure of Mistress Zhuang, Leng Yueheng was lost in thought. She trusted her, of course—but could this woman be some kind of enlightened recluse?

Putting aside the mystery of Mistress Zhuang, Leng Yueheng began to ponder the connection between the Qin family massacre and herself.

Since the tragedy involved Chancellor Zhao, could it be inferred that Madam Tian truly had deep ties to the Qin household?

Unable to sleep, Leng Yueheng waited until Mistress Zhuang had gone far before quietly slipping into Madam Tian’s room.

Seeing the unfamiliar woman sleeping peacefully stirred an inexplicable warmth within her—after all, this was the body’s biological mother.

Leng Yueheng gently whispered by her ear, “Qin Xian… Qin Xian…”

She knew that only a stimulus linked to the trauma could awaken Madam Tian’s memories.

But she did not want to startle her while she was awake, hoping this would bring the answers she sought.

Madam Tian’s delicate brows furrowed slightly, yet Leng Yueheng continued softly calling, “Qin Xian… Qin Xian…”

“Father… father…” Madam Tian finally murmured aloud.