“The sentence spares him death but not disgrace…all property confiscated, the family stripped of rank and reduced to commoners.”
To Qin Manman, the decree meant almost nothing. She had never been used to silk and finery; she had always been, at heart, an ordinary person. Losing the Chancellor’s protection would only return her to the little house she’d once lived in — only now, there would be no parents beside her.
But for the women and servants of Chancellor Wei’s household, the edict was ruin. They had grown up in comfort; some had at least the backing of relatives, allowing them to survive as dependents, living at others’ mercy. Those without support would be plunged suddenly into destitution — with no skill, no safety net. It was no life at all.
“The imperial decree will reach the Chancellor’s residence at dawn,” Si Hongxi said gravely. “Miss Manman, you must come with me back to the house to receive it.”
“All right,” Qin Manman replied softly.
For her, it was simply a return to where she had started.
Inside the jail, Chancellor Wei seemed to know his days were numbered. He steadied himself against the cold iron bars and called out.
“Someone! Anyone!”
“What are you shouting for? Save it until morning!” the jailer snapped.
The jailer turned to leave, but Wei caught at him. “Wait. I can’t wait until morning. Bring me paper and ink — at once. Ten thousand times urgent! If Prince Pingnan hears you’re mistreating me, he’ll not let you go easy!”
The jailer hesitated, then muttered, “Fine. Wait here.” He shut the door behind him.
“He still thinks he’s the chancellor, having us fuss over him this late,” one of the guards grumbled. “Forget him — let’s drink.”
But as they shuffled away, the jailer’s mind wouldn’t leave the warning. If he’d let something important slip, they might all be ruined. He returned with brush and paper and handed them over.
“Here.” Wei accepted the instruments, murmuring his thanks. He sat on the cold floor beneath the pale moon and began to write.
Time dragged. When he finished, he read over the folded sheet, exhaled, and called again, hoarse voice carrying: “Someone! Please—”
The jailer came in, impatient. “What now? Can’t you be quiet?”
Wei ignored the tone. He spoke with the authority that no punishment had yet taken from him. “Give this to Prince Pingnan. See that it reaches his hands. He will reward you handsomely.”
Gold promised quickly quieted the man’s misgivings. He took the folded paper like a talisman and tucked it into his robes. “Don’t worry. I’ll deliver it.”
“Keep still.” The jailer locked the door, and Wei let himself breathe.
He stood by the barred window and waited beneath the moon.
Not long after, the prison’s stillness was shattered by a brief clash — the muffled sounds of a struggle that ended almost as soon as it began. The main gate creaked open and the guards outside were found felled on the ground.
“Looks like I’ll never see such a beautiful moon again,” Wei murmured, without turning. He already knew — it was an assassin come for him.
A shadow in black moved behind him. A face behind a mask, a woman’s voice soft and deadly. “If that’s the way of it, take my life.”
Wei did not flinch. He stood perfectly still, composed as always.
She drew a blade from her waist — a flash so slight it could have been wind. The edge was as thin as a cicada’s wing, impossibly sharp. One stroke, and his throat was cut cleanly. The blade left no smear of blood on its steel, yet crimson geysered from Wei’s neck like a falling stream. He collapsed without a sound.
The woman turned and slipped away as quietly as she had come.
By then Si Hongxi had already escorted Qin Manman back to the Chancellor’s residence, and because her recovery was not yet complete he had arranged servants to stay with her. “Mu Qing, put a few attendants with Miss Manman. See that she’s well looked after, then come with me to the prison,” he ordered.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Si Hongxi went straight to the jail. The sky was paling when he arrived. But he had missed it by minutes.
The guards outside were unconscious, sprawled where they lay. Mu Qing checked a pulse and reported, “They’re alive — just knocked out.”
They hurried inside. The cell door had been smashed; within, Chancellor Wei lay dead.
“We’re too late,” Si Hongxi said, pain closing his throat. His fists tightened until his nails bit his palms.
Mu Qing crouched, inspecting the body. There were no signs of a struggle. Only a single, fatal wound at the throat. “This cut is too fine for an ordinary sword,” he said slowly. “Most blades leave a broader incision. This is like… a thread. But if it were silk it should have wrapped around the neck — and it didn’t. Strange.”
Si Hongxi had never heard of such a weapon before. There were too many unknowns. If the conspirators were indeed those whispered about at court, they had sources — and speed. The Chancellor’s last claim that the traitors were among the palace ranks now seemed more plausible than ever, but there was nothing concrete to prove it.
Grief overtook him. His vision blurred; he sank to his knees and fainted.
“Your Highness!” Mu Qing’s voice was urgent. He and the attendants bore Si Hongxi back to Prince Pingnan’s residence.
“Get the physician! Quickly — how is he?” Mu Qing demanded when they reached the hall.
The imperial physician took Si Hongxi’s pulse, then straightened. “He’s exhausted from overwork. He needs rest and nourishing decoctions. Give him time and steady care; he will recover.”
“He’s been working himself raw these past days,” Mu Qing said, bitterness and worry in his voice. “Even a man in his prime couldn’t keep this pace and not pay a price.”
Back at the Wei residence, the imperial edict had just arrived. Sun, the eunuch delivering the decree, stood primly with two young pages and a handful of soldiers, the sort of entourage that had power behind it.
“Lady Su, I beg you not to waste time,” Sun said with a sickly politeness. “By the emperor’s order, the Chancellor’s house is to be sealed. No belongings may be removed. Pack a change of clothes and come.”
Lady Su’s face went hard. “You have the gall to gloat at my misfortune, Sun?” she snapped as she rose. “Don’t think your position near the throne makes you above decency.”
“Oh, Lady Su—” Sun simulated concern.
“Don’t forget,” she bit back, “my father is a duke who has defended the realm. Though I’m fallen now, I have kin who will not stand for this humiliation. Watch your step.”
She glared at him, teeth clenched. The world had turned upside down; how dare this eunuch press his advantage?
Sun’s smile never reached his eyes. “Please don’t strain your health,” he purred. “I only carry out the emperor’s commands.”
Lady Su took Wei Qingshan by the arm and led her into a room, bolting the door. Outside, the eunuch barked orders: no one was to carry anything out of the house; everyone else was to be cleared from the premises.
Inside the locked room, Wei Qingshan’s hands trembled. “Mother…what will we do? Father — what will happen to him?” Her voice trembled between fear and confusion.