Song Zhishu had just come out of a jewelry shop with her maid Bilu in tow, her expression anxious.

  “We’ll go to the next one,” Song Zhishu said.

  “Miss, we’ve already been to five shops. Will it really help?” Bilu asked.

  Clutched in Song Zhishu’s hand was a drawing—she had sketched the design of the gold hairpin based on the one she had borrowed from her younger cousin.

  If someone had truly seen her wearing that hairpin and purposely presented one of the same style to the Princess to frame her, then that person must have had it custom-made in the capital on an urgent order.

  After all, she had only worn it once, two or three days before the Princess’s birthday banquet, unable to suppress her desire to show off.

  In such a short time, with a rush order, the shop owner would surely remember.

  “There aren’t more than ten shops in the capital that can make gold hairpins of this quality. As long as we ask around, we’ll definitely find it,” Song Zhishu said firmly.

  “But what use is it even if we do find it?” Bilu asked.

  “If we find it, we’ll at least know who the culprit is. That gives us a direction to overturn the case.”

  With that, Song Zhishu pulled herself together and went to the next shop.

  Dongchun furrowed her brows tightly. What did Fourth Miss mean by “overturn the case”?

  Was she... helping her Miss?

  Dongchun didn’t know the full story, nor the misunderstandings involving Song Zhishu. She only knew her own Miss had been wronged, and now, seeing Song Zhishu working so diligently, her feelings toward the Song family softened a bit.

  She returned to the Song estate in a daze, preparing to pack some warm clothes for her mistress and then head to Huichun Hall.

  At noon, Tao Xiang, Song Zhiyin’s maid, summoned Dongchun to Song Zhishu’s room.

  Dongchun knelt on the ground.

  Song Zhiyin skipped past the situation between Ji Ping’an and Song Zhishu and got straight to the point: expining clearly that the key to resolving Ji Ping’an’s case was “how to appease the Princess.”

  Her tone was sharp and direct. “Dongchun, if you truly want your Miss to get through this unscathed, someone must plead on her behalf to the Princess.”

  “Plead?” Dongchun blinked, dazed. “Third Miss, please help save our Miss.”

  “My plea is useless,” Song Zhiyin replied. “You need someone who holds sway by the Princess’s side. Let me be blunt—asking someone for help requires the proper attitude. No gifts, no silver, and you expect others to go out of their way for you? Those who can speak to the Princess are all powerful or wealthy. You’d better think hard—did you bring anything rare or precious with you to Bianjing this time that might please a noble?”

  Something rare?

  Dongchun’s mind raced.

  “The golden Buddhas!” she blurted out.

  Song Zhiyin’s eyes lit up. “Golden Buddhas? Where are they?”

  Dongchun was about to answer, but suddenly a moment of crity struck her—“No matter what it takes, find a way to get Yan Xishan to see me. Don’t trust anyone else.”

  Miss had said not to trust anyone else.

  Dongchun lowered her head, eyes shifting subtly.

  “Dongchun?” Song Zhiyin prompted.

  “Replying to Third Miss,” Dongchun said with a low bow. “We do have a pair of golden Buddhas, each about the size of a palm and solid gold. They were specially commissioned by the Master back then at great cost. But after they were brought into the estate, they were all recorded in the registry. Before his death, the Master had everything documented and the silver deposited in the official treasury to protect Miss from harm by greedy retives. Whether it’s the Buddhas or the money, they can only be used with Miss’s signature. Without it, the accounts wouldn’t match, and we could be reported for theft at any time. I’m just a maid—I have no authority over anything.”

  Song Zhiyin gave a tight smile, but her gaze grew cold. “You’re not being honest.”

  “I wouldn’t dare.”

  “If everything requires your Miss’s signature, then what happens if she’s absent or injured? Isn’t there normally a seal kept for such emergencies? You’ve been with her since childhood—you’re telling me you don’t know where her seal is?”

  Dongchun looked panicked. “Third Miss, I’m just a servant. Why would my Miss ever let me handle something so important? Every time she uses it, she always does it privately.”

  Song Zhiyin stood up and looked down at her. “Look at you, pale as a ghost. I’ll be honest with you. Your Miss has entered the Song family. The invitation presented at the Princess’s banquet listed her as ‘Third Song’—that makes her a daughter of the Song house. If she’s punished, it doesn’t just affect her, it damages the reputations and future marriages of Zhishu and me. I truly want to save her—don’t you?”

  “But…” Dongchun’s voice trembled. Song Zhiyin’s words sounded reasonable, but Dongchun didn’t know if she should believe them.

  Gritting her teeth, she decided—she only trusted her Miss.

  “Third Miss, I really don’t know,” she said. “A seal is so important—how could a servant like me know where it’s kept? If you don’t believe me, why don’t you visit Kaifeng Prefecture yourself? The second Young Master is stationed there. If you go, you’ll definitely be allowed to see my Miss. If she trusts you, she’ll tell you herself. How about that?”

  Song Zhiyin’s lips twitched.

  This young maid, raised by her cousin, is quite sharp indeed.

  Her voice grew cool. “Dongchun, don’t you want to save your Miss?”

  “I do, even if it means trading my life for hers,” Dongchun said, lips quivering. “But I really don’t know where her seal is.”

  Song Zhiyin let out a long sigh. “Forget it. Think it over carefully. Dongchun, your young miss’s life is in your hands now.”

  After saying that, Song Zhiyin let Dongchun leave. Dongchun, holding the clothes she had packed for Ji Ping’an, made her way toward the prison—only to be stopped at the gates of the Song estate. The gatekeeper told her that things had been chaotic tely and, fearing that some servants might flee in secret, the household was enforcing stricter entry and exit rules. If Dongchun wanted to leave the estate, she would need direct permission from a Song family member.

  Dongchun’s heart sank.

  She immediately regretted not listening to Ji Ping’an and heading straight to Huichun Hall. Instead, she’d come back to the Song residence to pack.

  Head hung low, Dongchun trudged back, sighing bitterly in her heart: Late Master, you trusted the wrong people.

  Back in the courtyard, Taoxiang came to take the items Dongchun had prepared for Ji Ping’an and handed them over to Song Zhiyin.

  That evening, Song Zhiyin personally brought food and clothes to visit Ji Ping’an in the dungeon.

  She smiled warmly. “Little cousin, have a look—do you need anything else? Though Second Brother works at Kaifeng Prefecture and can take care of you to some extent, he’s still a man. I’m afraid there are details he might overlook.”

  Ji Ping’an thanked her and opened the bundle. Inside were many thick clothes, even undergarments—all styles she liked.

  Too thoughtful to be chosen by Song Zhiyin herself.

  Still, Ji Ping’an didn’t show it. Pale and delicate, she remained quiet and composed.

  And she wasn’t pretending—she truly was sick.

  Song Zhiyin reached out and held her hand. “Why are your hands so cold?”

  She sighed. “Ah, little cousin, you’re far too delicate. Just one day in here and you’ve already fallen ill. If... if you’re sentenced to exile ter, how will you possibly endure it?”

  “Cousin Zhiyin,” Ji Ping’an asked calmly, “have you heard something?”

  Song Zhiyin sighed again. “Zhishu has been running around all day, trying to make amends. She really did find the shop where the imitation hairpin was made. Second Brother now knows who’s behind this. I can’t say too much, but he says he’s confident he’ll clear your name soon. But, little cousin, you know… that’s not the real problem.”

  She leaned in, voice low and coaxing. “There are a few of the Princess’s close confidantes who could speak for you. If we find a way to… grease the wheels a little, perhaps they could intercede. But bribes cost money. Little cousin, I’ll speak pinly. The road to exile is brutal. No amount of money is worth more than your life. If you trust me, tell me where your family seal is. I’ll handle everything, and I promise to pave the way for you.”

  That seal represented full authority over the Ji family’s wealth. If she handed it over, Ji Ping’an would be left a penniless orphan girl in a world where money meant survival.

  Ji Ping’an smiled faintly. “Cousin, during the famine years, every rice shop in Jinling raised their prices—except for our Ji’s Grain Company. My father not only didn’t raise prices, he lowered them. At the time, everyone called him foolish. But after the famine, every grain merchant who hoarded food was punished, while my father alone escaped unscathed. The people remembered his kindness and supported our business for years. That’s how the Ji family thrived. So, I believe in karmic retribution. As long as one’s conscience is clear, the wind will carry your reputation far.”

  At that, Song Zhiyin burst into a radiant smile, like spring blossoms blooming across March skies.

  She ughed for quite some time before calming down. “Little cousin, you know… before I came here, I already knew asking you would be useless. But I just couldn’t give up. I had to try.”

  Ji Ping’an blinked slowly.

  Song Zhiyin wiped the tears from her ughter and stood up. “Well, since you’ve made up your mind, I won’t press you further. But I’ll say one st thing: now that you’ve entered the Song family, we’re one family. No matter what happens, a family must stand united on the outside. Only when the Song family prospers can those of us under its protection thrive as well.”

  “Thank you for the reminder, Cousin Zhiyin,” Ji Ping’an replied, calm as ever—her tone soft yet subtly pointed.

  Song Zhiyin didn’t press further and took her leave.

  Only once she left did Ji Ping’an breathe a quiet sigh of relief. A while ter, when a jailer came to switch out the damp bedding and cold hot water bags, Ji Ping’an asked him to pass on a message that she wanted to see Song Huaiyu. Unfortunately, Song Huaiyu had gone out on official duties and wouldn’t be back for a while.

  Ji Ping’an could only stew in frustration.

  The clothes she’d received clearly bore Dongchun’s touch.

  And Song Zhiyin had asked about the seal.

  Which meant… Dongchun hadn’t followed orders. She went back to the Song estate and got herself detained.

  Silly girl.