Life in Prison

“Who are you?”

Xia Yunhe lifted her eyes to look at Lin Cang, voicing the question that had long been lingering in her heart.

“Who am I? Naturally, I am the malevolent spirit of the Zhaoyu Prison,” Lin Cang replied, gently placing the half-eaten pear by her feet, a smile playing on his lips, ambiguous and unreadable. “This prison is dull; one must find their own amusement.”

Being treated as a source of amusement, Xia Yunhe chuckled softly twice before saying, “Amusement? What use does Commander Lin have for such… amusement… ink and brush with me?”

Lin Cang suddenly rose, looking down at her from above. “I only gave you the leftover pear; I did not give you any ink or brush.”

With that, he swung his hand and left the cell, not forgetting to order on his way out, “Light an oil lamp for Lady Xia and bring some water. There’s no need to treat a confessed prisoner too harshly.”

The jailers responded and busied themselves accordingly.

As their footsteps gradually faded away, the cell fell into silence. Xia Yunhe reached into her bosom and touched the ink and brush, unable to stand or sit still, staring blankly at the ceiling.

In her ears rang the prince’s vengeful words: “Xia Yunhe, by choosing the Seventh Brother, you have sealed your fate.”

The prince still harbored resentment over the day of disciple selection...

Thinking of this, Xia Yunhe smiled. If the emperor knew that she had painstakingly employed the finest scholars under heaven to nurture the seemingly refined and gentle prince, who in truth was a vindictive, cold-blooded man, what expression would he wear?

From Chen Haizhou’s death to her imprisonment, only half a day had passed. The mastermind behind this calamity surely involved the prince... and the power behind him—the Duke of Dingguo, Liu Rongshan.

Only one thing Xia Yunhe could not comprehend: what had she done to offend the Duke of Dingguo? In her past life, he had harmed her; in this life, he sought to destroy her again.

How could she ever accept this?

Lowering her gaze to the ink and brush in her arms, Xia Yunhe suddenly understood Lin Cang’s meaning.

Some wished for her death; others did not.

The prison door creaked open slightly as a jailer brought a bowl of water, an inkstone, and an oil lamp.

Xia Yunhe thanked the jailer, who then left.

With the oil lamp, the cell was no longer shrouded in darkness. She glanced roughly around; it was still relatively clean.

Rolling up her sleeves, she gathered the dry straw in the corner and piled it beside the low stool as a cushion. Sitting cross-legged upon it, she fell silent for a moment before tearing a piece of silk from her robe, smoothing it on the stool. After grinding the ink, she dipped the brush and began to write down her grievances.

...

Five days later, at the Xia residence.

The sun shone brightly over the square courtyard, where holly bushes sprouted fresh green buds, brimming with vitality.

Yet the few people inside wore worried frowns, sighing now and then.

Wei Sizhao leaned against the wall, casting a glance at the young eunuch Qian He’er beside him, whose brows were tightly furrowed. Seeing the youth’s tender face, Wei Sizhao sighed softly, lowering his head to conceal his emotions.

He knew Xia Yunhe would be imprisoned, so he had written a letter to Prince Qin in advance. Unfortunately, the young eunuch sent by Prince Qin was too inexperienced.

Naïve and unseasoned.

Qian He’er spoke, “No one in the palace dares to approach me; I can’t find anyone to question.”

Zhen Niang asked, “Little Eunuch Qian, isn’t Chief Steward Li able to help?”

Upon hearing this, Qian He’er’s brows furrowed deeper, a trace of anger flashing across his face, but he did not answer Zhen Niang.

The two young people before her sighed heavily. Zhen Niang noticed but asked no more, though anxiety gnawed at her heart. The Xia family had no foundation in the capital; with Xia Yunhe in trouble, she was utterly lost. It was Third Madam who bravely volunteered to go to Taoxi with a young man named Xu Xing to inform the old madam.

Zhen Niang counted the days on her fingers, estimating that Xia Yunhe’s identity had yet to be exposed. Had her secret of disguising herself as a man been discovered, the Xia residence would have been surrounded by soldiers long ago, not as quiet as now.

If no one could be trusted, or if Xia Yunhe’s true identity was revealed, she dared not imagine the consequences.

“My godfather was sent to the Divine Palace Prison to sweep the mausoleum. He went mad a few days ago, soiling himself; no one in the palace is allowed to see him,” the young eunuch said, pausing a moment before his expression darkened with cruelty. “That damned Wen Zheng, once he gained power, one day…”

Wei Sizhao interrupted, “Eunuch Qian, do you have any other means? Prince Qin sent you, surely you have some use.”

Qian He’er sneered, turning toward Wei Sizhao. “Don’t look down on me. Since my master sent me, I must do his bidding. My master wants Lady Xia alive, so I must do my best to protect her. But the investigation is tightly sealed on all sides; no information will be gleaned soon. Besides, the Shuntian Prefecture has clashed with the Duke of Dingguo over this matter, and the case is unlikely to be resolved quickly. Lady Xia’s life is not in immediate danger—at most, she will suffer some physical torment.”

Qian He’er did not know what Zhen Niang feared, but seeing her continued frown, he comforted her, “Let things calm down first. When the storm passes, we’ll use silver to ransom her.”

Zhen Niang murmured, “The young master is innocent.”

“Of course I know Lady Xia is innocent,” Qian He’er sneered. “But once you enter that place, no one is free from injustice. If you come out alive, consider heaven merciful.”

Zhen Niang nodded without further words.

Wei Sizhao tried to console her, “Third Madam and Xu Xing have gone to Taoxi, right? News should come in half a month at most, or ten days if luck favors us.”

After Wei Sizhao and Qian He’er left, Zhen Niang sat quietly in the courtyard. Suddenly, two gray magpies flew in from somewhere, chattering noisily.

Gritting her teeth, Zhen Niang picked up some stones and chased the birds away. Rising, she went to the side room and retrieved a large wooden chest. From a hidden compartment, she took out a short sword.

The sword was heavily rusted and could not be drawn from its scabbard.

Holding the sword, Zhen Niang murmured, “A soldier dies for those who understand him. Madam Yang, even if I must give my life, I will break into the prison, rescue the prisoner, and protect the young master.”

As she thought this, a few knocks sounded at the door, breaking her concentration. She put away the sword, rolled up her sleeves, and went to open the gate.

Outside stood a man with a long beard, his face refined and handsome, exuding an air of scholarly elegance. Behind him trailed a young clerk.

The man politely inquired about the residence, and upon confirming it was the Xia household, he introduced himself.

“I am Wen Shuochuan, an imperial academy secretary. By imperial order, I conduct routine inquiries. This case is extensive; you must tell me everything you know—no omissions.”

Zhen Niang steadied herself and recounted the situation carefully, deliberately avoiding any mention of Xia Yunhe’s true identity.

Wen Shuochuan instructed the clerk to record all the testimony and then said to Zhen Niang, “The Zhaoyu Prison is cold and damp. If you have any spare clothing, bring me two sets—I will deliver them to Yi Zhi.”

Zhen Niang’s eyes brightened. She quickly gathered a bundle of clothes and handed it to the clerk behind Wen Shuochuan, then bowed deeply and sent them away.

...

Zhaoyu Prison.

Located underground, it never saw daylight. The air was thick with damp mold and a faintly sweet metallic scent of blood, causing every newcomer to tighten their collars against the eerie chill.

Xia Yunhe sat cross-legged on the straw pallet, glancing up at the oil lamp hanging on the wall, then at the book beside her... The Collection of Suspicious Cases.

The book had been given by Lin Cang to pass the time.

She sighed and closed her eyes in thought. In her past life, she had no sense of time in prison—no knowledge of day or night—only darkness. Time was measured by the number of punishments endured. Now she wondered how she had not gone mad then; it was truly strange.

The clank of chains echoed—the sign of someone arriving.

She closed her eyes, listening. The footsteps were steady, neither hurried nor slow. It was neither Lin Cang nor the prince.

Xia Yunhe opened her eyes sharply and looked toward the visitor.

Wen Shuochuan, dressed in bright red official robes, stood quietly outside the cell, watching her.

...

“By imperial order, routine inquiry.”

Following the standard procedure, Xia Yunhe lazily raised her eyelids and answered as best she could. Wen Shuochuan also went through the motions. Before leaving, he produced a bundle of clothes.

“These were brought to you by your family.”

Xia Yunhe’s eyes flickered as she stared at the clothes. “My clothes have tears and are dirty. I’ve asked several times, but the prison does nothing about it. Please, Minister Wen, take these clothes out so they can be washed.”

No one doubted her. She changed into the outer robe, wrapped up the dirty garments, and handed them to a jailer.

Wen Shuochuan dismissed the crowd and said, “Your case is causing a commotion outside. The emperor leans in your favor. Why confess on the record?”

“You must have heard of the Zhaoyu Prison’s methods,” Xia Yunhe smiled bitterly. “Though Chen Haizhou is dead, his influence remains. I dare not wager my life against the tortures of the Observation Bureau. It’s better to confess early and lessen the suffering.”

Seeing no one else around, she lowered her voice and said, “Minister Wen, as one who knows she is near death, I beg you for a favor.”

Wen Shuochuan did not refuse. After pondering briefly, Xia Yunhe smiled and said, “I know my chances are slim. Should I die in Zhaoyu Prison, please help my family bring my remains back to my homeland, Taoxi. If... by some miracle I survive, I will surely be demoted. Officials are exiled by court decree or imperial edict. If that comes to pass, please, Minister Wen, do your best to persuade His Majesty to exile me to Yin Prefecture.”

“Why?”

Xia Yunhe did not answer Wen Shuochuan’s question. She withdrew her gaze and looked down at the book filled with Lin Cang’s notes, pressing her lips lightly. “Because I want to go home. Whether in life or death, I want to go home. His Majesty dislikes others guessing his thoughts. If you tell him I requested exile to Yin Prefecture to see Prince Qin, he will be angry. If someone else fans the flames and suggests banishment to Lingnan instead, all the better. Lingnan is closer to home; the Xia family’s journey to deliver clothes would be shorter.”

“His Majesty’s mind is not for us to guess. I’m afraid... I am powerless in this matter.”

“I know. It’s a matter of life and death. You need not rush to refuse. Consider it my vain hope. Perhaps tomorrow I will die in Zhaoyu Prison.”

Wen Shuochuan clicked his tongue, hesitating before saying, “You—you, Yi Zhi, need not be so pessimistic. I will do my best.”

...

The oil lamp crackled softly, its tiny sound piercing the silence of the cell.

Xia Yunhe closed her eyes, sitting on the straw pallet. The grievance manuscript was hidden within the folds of the dirty clothes Wen Shuochuan had taken out. No one suspected a thing.

She did not know what path lay ahead and could only take one step at a time.

The chains clattered again; she did not open her eyes but knew it was Lin Cang.

The cell door creaked open. He sighed and crouched before her, pinching his chin. “Oh? Asleep?”

Xia Yunhe opened her eyes. “Who sleeps sitting up?”

“Ah, still joking. Looks like you’re living well with me,” Lin Cang said, snatching the book from her hands, propping his chin on his palm, watching her with interest. “To be fair, I haven’t mistreated you these past days.”

As he spoke, Lin Cang pulled out a document from his bosom, speaking in a leisurely tone as if mentioning something trivial.

“The words you told Minister Wen this afternoon have been heard. So, someone wanted to poison you. But I refused it. I just took the position of commander of the secret guards—I’m not done yet. How could I resign so easily?”

“Commander Lin told me this?”

Lin Cang shook the white cotton paper in his hand. “A letter of thanks for dying.”

He chuckled, meeting Xia Yunhe’s puzzled gaze. “I wrote it. For Lady Xia—you.”

“This letter of thanks for dying will be on the emperor’s desk by tomorrow afternoon at the latest.”

“Under the roof, one must bow. You have only one day left, Lady Xia. That dirty clothes bundle you sent out, with the grievance letter hidden inside… will your family wash it away outright?”

Lin Cang straightened up. “Need me remind them?”