"Good thing I'm not that tall."

  Ji Ping'an let out a self-deprecating ugh.

  "You can still ugh?" Song Huaiyu had someone open the cell door as he stepped in, carrying a quilt.

  "Well, things have already gotten this far—I can't just sit here crying, can I?" Ji Ping'an reached out to take the quilt. "Though honestly, I really do want to cry."

  Song Huaiyu handed her the quilt, then had someone bring in a bedding mat and y it over the stone ptform. "It's damp and cold down here. You’ll need a thick yer or you’ll fall ill easily."

  He was tall, and when he stood up, he almost bumped his head on the ceiling.

  "Thank you, Cousin Huaiyu," Ji Ping'an said.

  Song Huaiyu looked at her deeply, as if wanting to say more, but in the end, he only said, "I asked Zhiyin and Zhishu about everything. In the end, it really was just a twist of fate. You took the bme in Zhishu’s pce. She owes you."

  Ji Ping'an's expression remained calm. "We're all just caught in a mess. Someone had to take the brunt of Her Highness’s wrath. Even if Cousin Zhishu had stepped forward, in the end, the two of us would have been dragged down together. It wouldn’t have changed the outcome—just one more innocent person punished."

  "In your heart, you think Zhishu is innocent?" Song Huaiyu asked. "You don’t resent her?"

  Ji Ping'an shook her head. "No. If you know it's a death sentence and still step forward, that’s just needless sacrifice. If she truly cares, I believe Cousin Zhishu will try to find the real culprit and clear my name."

  Song Huaiyu was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed steadily on Ji Ping'an.

  The cell was dark, with no natural light. A lone guard at the door held up a ntern.

  The flickering fme cast light on Ji Ping'an’s face—open, sincere, without the slightest hint of pretense.

  Suddenly, Song Huaiyu csped his hands together and bowed low. “Miss Ji, whoever is behind this is clearly targeting our Song family. I apologize on Zhishu’s behalf, and on behalf of the Song family, I promise you—we will find the culprit and return your innocence.”

  Ji Ping'an gave him a small smile. “I believe you. Thank you, Cousin Huaiyu.”

  But both of them knew—just catching the culprit wasn’t enough to ensure her safety.

  After a while, Song Huaiyu returned, bringing a clean water cup and two hot water pouches. The water inside was boiled clean; it could be used to warm the body and, once cooled, to quench thirst.

  By prison standards, this was luxury.

  “What would Miss Ji like to eat tomorrow?” Song Huaiyu asked.

  “You can order food in here?” Ji Ping'an blinked.

  Song Huaiyu nodded.

  After thinking a bit, she said, “Could I get a bowl of noodle soup?”

  Song Huaiyu smiled. “A warm broth on a cold morning is the best thing.”

  With that, he turned and left.

  It was a cold night, even colder in the dungeon. Once he was gone, Ji Ping'an quickly removed her shoes and socks and nestled into the bnkets. The quilt had already been warmed by hot water pouches. The moment her frozen feet touched the warmth, a comforting sensation spread through every inch of her body.

  She reached down and rubbed her knees, which felt bruised and tender after kneeling on the stone floor for so long. Now that she was alone, the bitterness she had suppressed surged up all at once. She realized she had never endured anything like this in her entire life.

  Even back when her graduate advisor yelled at her during her residency, she never felt wronged—because deep down, she knew her professor's harsh words were meant to push her to be better. As doctors, they couldn’t afford mistakes. One misstep could cost a life.

  But this time, she truly was innocent.

  And yet she was the one paying the price.

  Why?

  She hadn’t done anything. She had only gone to the Princess’s estate in hopes of treating her strange illness.

  The embroidered painting wasn’t hers. The culprit behind the scheme wasn’t targeting her.

  So, how did she end up the scapegoat?

  This ancient world was awful. The princess was sick, sure—but she banned people from mentioning it, from covering their noses, from using any kind of fragrance in her presence. And now she needed someone to take out her anger on?

  What, just because the princess was royalty, she wasn't human?

  If the princess had the right to be angry, then so did she!

  Ji Ping’an wiped away her tears. She wasn’t just upset—she was scared. If they couldn’t find a solution soon, even if the Song family managed to save her from a death sentence, she could still be sentenced to years in prison… or even exile.

  Damn the imperial court. Damn their hierarchy and nobility.

  —

  Song Huaiyu left the dungeon and headed straight for the mortuary. The coroner had just finished his examination.

  “How is it?” he asked.

  The coroner rinsed the blood from his hands. “Looks like he was struck on the back of the head with a blunt object and lost consciousness before drowning.”

  “That’s it?” Song Huaiyu pressed.

  The coroner nodded. “Yes. I also discovered signs of long-term alcohol abuse—his liver and kidneys were in poor shape.”

  Song Huaiyu gnced at the table beside them. “These are his belongings?”

  The coroner nodded again.

  He sifted through them: a comb, a few copper coins, recently written prescriptions, and a pair of dice engraved with the emblem of Xingrong Gambling House.

  Not surprising.

  Serving in the Princess’s household paid well enough to support an entire family. Anyone willing to risk execution to tamper with gifts must either be under threat… or desperate for money.

  On the way there, Huaiyu had asked the guards to investigate Mali Shui’s family. They found nothing suspicious—no threats, no signs of coercion.

  Which meant it had to be the money.

  And if someone was willing to gamble their future for silver, they were either drowning in debt or addicted to risk.

  —

  Back at the Song residence, they were still hiding the matter from Old Madam Song to avoid worrying her.

  Song Zhishu had just finished crying again—her eyes red and swollen. She sat with Song Huaizhang and Song Zhiyin, discussing what to do next.

  Huaizhang asked, “Think carefully—among everyone present at the banquet, who do you suspect held the deepest grudge against you? Using the princess’s sensitivity to incense to frame someone feels too petty—it doesn’t seem like someone aiming at the Song family as a whole.”

  Zhiyin agreed. “Exactly what I thought. So I paid special attention during the party. The first to bring up viewing the birthday gifts was Zhou Pingping. But requesting to admire gifts during a celebration isn’t unusual. And technically speaking, she’s the Princess’s cousin. Still, the first to accuse us was one of Zhou Pingping’s companions, and the st group to dogpile on us belonged to Zhan Luying’s circle.”

  Huaizhang frowned. “Zhan Luying is prideful and arrogant—she doesn’t strike me as the type to pull such lowly tricks.”

  Zhiyin added, “There’s one thing that doesn’t sit right with me. At the banquet, the Princess wore a new hairpin—supposedly gifted just the day before. She liked it and wore it on the spot. And that hairpin… looked very simir to the one Zhishu wore today. Then that sachet—where was it found? In your embroidered painting.”

  At that, Zhishu froze.

  “What did you remember?” Zhiyin immediately asked.

  “My hairpin… I borrowed it from Ping’an. I only wore it once before—when I went out to the rouge shop. That day, I argued with Zhou Pingping. She snatched up the rouge I had reserved and mocked me. I lost my temper and told her the gift I was preparing would outshine everyone else’s at the birthday banquet. But honestly… she and I just don’t get along. It’s always been petty bickering. She’s of higher birth, she always has the upper hand—why would she go through all this trouble to ruin me?”

  Huaizhang summoned someone to begin monitoring Chengping Marquis’s estate. He also told Zhishu to go back to her room and try to recall any other details.

  Once she left, he turned to Zhiyin, his eyes narrowing. “Let Ping’an stay in the dungeon a while longer. After a few days, go visit her and bring her some things.”

  Zhiyin looked hesitant.

  Huaizhang continued, “The key is appeasing the Princess. If it comes down to it, we may have to spend a fortune to bribe someone close to her to speak in Ping’an’s defense. You should make that clear to her. Some misfortunes can only be solved by paying up.”

  Zhiyin’s expression was hard to describe.

  “What is it?” Huaizhang asked. He frowned slightly. The ever-clever girl seemed uncharacteristically quiet.

  Zhiyin hesitated. “Big Brother… I understand what you mean. But Second Brother is stationed at Kaifeng Prefecture. If Ping’an needs anything, I’m sure he’ll take care of her. If you want to pressure her into giving up the Ji family’s fortune, I doubt it’ll work. She may look gentle and easygoing, but she’s more stubborn than she seems.”

  Huaizhang’s brows shot up. “Second Brother likes Ji Ping’an?”

  He was stunned. The second son of the Song family—noble-born, with a bright future ahead of him—had fallen for a lowly merchant’s orphan daughter?

  Was it the dowry?

  Zhiyin calmly replied, “Big Brother—‘Peach blossoms bloom early in spring, and who can resist such radiant beauty?’”

  Huaizhang shook his head. “Forget it. If Second Brother is serious, then as his elder brother, I can step aside. But Father has already arranged a match for him—the daughter of the Censorate Vice-Minister, Li Qingqian. Three generations of noble lineage, virtuous and refined. Until she enters the household, if Ji Ping’an wishes to marry… she can only do so as a concubine.”

  Song Zhiyin said, “I’m afraid our little cousin won’t be willing.”

  Song Huaizhang replied, “If she won’t, then let her wait. Once our second brother marries a proper wife, give it a year or so, and she can be taken in as a concubine. But until then, she must behave herself and properly support the Song family.”

  In Song Huaizhang’s eyes, accepting Ji Ping’an as a concubine was already him being overly generous, only because of his second brother's affection and Ji Ping’an’s considerable dowry.

  Initially, he had considered taking Ji Ping’an in himself as a concubine, using her dowry to help the Song family rise to greater heights. But now that his second brother seemed interested, as a loving elder brother, he was willing to make that concession. After all, once Ji Ping’an married into the Song family, she would be tied to them for life, dedicating everything she had to the family’s continued prosperity. Who she married made no real difference in the end.

  Song Huaizhang sighed, “It’s still best to make her a concubine. Otherwise, if Miss Li hasn’t even entered the family yet and there’s already talk of another woman as a future concubine, it’ll certainly upset her.”

  Song Zhiyin had nothing more to say—she could only smile.

  Her elder brother was being far too optimistic. From what she had seen, their little cousin might be delicate in health, but there was pride in her eyes and brilliance in her mind. Let alone becoming a concubine—she likely wouldn’t even accept being a secondary wife.

  —

  The next morning, Ji Ping’an woke up feeling miserable.

  The prison cell was low and damp, with the small window right above her head letting in a steady draft all night.

  By the tter half of the night, the hot water bottle had turned completely cold. When she woke in the morning, the bedding was half-damp from the moisture.

  “Cough, cough, cough.”

  Her throat itched, and her whole body felt weak.