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The Grand Princess’s Residence.
Li Yunli shut her doors to visitors, rejecting all court officials and old acquaintances.
Yet, that didn’t stop Ji Wenxun from climbing over the wall.
No matter how big the Grand Princess’s residence was, it couldn’t keep out someone like Ji Wenxun, who had spent countless days here in the past and knew every path and doorway inside out.
With a creak, the wooden door swung open. Ji Wenxun found the Grand Princess in her study, sitting before a sand table, flipping through a book.
“It seems the guards in your residence failed tonight. They should all be punished.”
Li Yunli didn’t look up. From the sound of the intruder’s movements alone, she knew who it was.
“Your guards are strict—I barely managed to shake them off.” Ji Wenxun walked over and, following Li Yunli’s words, pleaded for the guards. But soon, her attention was drawn to the book in Li Yunli’s hands. “What are you reading? You’re confined to your residence—surely you’re not actually sitting here reflecting on your mistakes? A detailed analysis of the terrain of Nanjing City? What are you reading that for?”
Ji Wenxun glanced at the cover Li Yunli was holding, then put the book back in her hands before grabbing the princess’s cup from the table and taking a sip.
“The southern region is rich in rainfall. To build a city in a low-lying area, one must rely on water management. That’s why southern craftsmen are highly skilled in hydraulics. When I left Yongzhou, Gong Liangchong was in charge of rebuilding Yongzhou’s waterworks, with many workers recruited from the south.”
Ji Wenxun didn’t quite follow and gave her a puzzled look. “So? Why are you suddenly interested in this at such a critical time?”
“What I mean is,” Li Yunli said, deep in thought, “if it were the southern terrain, with broad official roads above and complex underground waterways, it wouldn’t be difficult to hide a few thousand Wei soldiers to stage a rebellion and seek revenge. But here, in the capital’s underground—where could they possibly fit so many men?” She looked up at Ji Wenxun. “If I didn’t hide them, then where did those rebellious Wei soldiers come from that day?”
Ji Wenxun blinked.
She thought to herself: the main culprit had already been caught and was currently being interrogated at the Ministry of Justice.
But what she said aloud was, “If you really suspect Prince Changling, shouldn’t you start by investigating his troops? The soldiers who attacked you at the city gates that day fought as if they were prepared to die.”
Li Yunli pondered. “Former Wei Prime Minister Zheng Siyan had many death warriors under his command. Perhaps they were mixed with other troops during the attack. He should have been in the capital that day. But where is he now?”
Ji Wenxun hesitated for a moment, then finally said, “I came today because I thought you should know something.”
“What is it?”
“Most of the prisoners from the city gates were taken to the imperial prison, but Minister Song personally took Yun Chu to the Ministry of Justice’s dungeon.”
Li Yunli lowered her eyes, her gaze unmoved. “I know.”
She had heard about it the moment she left that day.
Ji Wenxun hesitated. “After the morning court session, I heard Minister Song returned to the Ministry of Justice and never went home. I asked around inside, and… they’ve already started the torture.”
“In the imperial prison, they also begin with forty lashes as a warning,” Li Yunli murmured, her voice almost inaudible. “It’s just torture.”
“Whoosh—CRACK!!”
The heavy whip tore through the air, slicing down with terrifying force. It struck flesh, ripping through fabric and leaving behind a deep, bloody welt.
Yun Chu tilted his head slightly. The pain, like a searing brand, shot through his nerves, layer upon layer.
Unable to speak, he bit down hard on the cloth in his mouth. His once-pristine face was drenched in cold sweat, drops trickling down his neck and soaking into his prison clothes. His brow furrowed tightly. The agony was unmistakable, yet he clenched his teeth and refused to let a single groan escape his throat.
The interrogation chamber was filled with the sound of the whip, each lash tearing through flesh.
Song Tunan idly played with a dagger, resting his head on one hand as he watched the punishment unfold, expressionless.
…Thirty-eight. Thirty-nine.
“Stop.”
Forty lashes, exactly. Song Tunan finally spoke.
The executioner obeyed immediately. The blood-streaked whip fell silent.
Yun Chu’s head drooped, his breath heavy. Every inch of his body screamed in pain.
He kept his eyes closed and heard Song Tunan’s calm voice: “Let him speak.”
The cloth was pulled from his mouth. A rush of air flooded his lungs, but with it came a sharper wave of pain that seeped into his very bones.
Breath ragged, he finally found his voice, though it was hoarse and weak.
“Minister Song… there was no need… to gag me…”
He lifted his head slightly, his gaze unwavering. He even managed a faint smile. “Rest assured—I won’t say anything… that could harm her…”
“Her Highness the Grand Princess is too kind,” Song Tunan said coldly. “Two years ago, she already let you go once.”
He stepped closer to the torture rack, eyes dark. “But I never grant unnecessary trust. And you? You have none left with me.”
His voice was sharp. “You should have died two years ago. Why are you still alive? And if you were alive, why did you betray Her Highness again? And after your betrayal—why didn’t you just die?”
With a metallic clang, a short blade stabbed into the rack, barely missing Yun Chu’s arm.
Why was he still alive?
Yun Chu closed his eyes briefly, sweat dripping from his forehead.
“Probably… because Her Highness wouldn’t let me die so easily…”
A quick death by his own blade would have been too merciful.
If she had stopped his hand once, then he had to obey her will—endure the consequences of his survival.
Even if it meant torture. Even if it meant being torn apart, piece by piece.
If she wanted him alive, he would live.
If she wanted him to suffer, he would suffer.
That was the vow he had made—to bear all punishment, to accept all consequences.
As long as his body could endure it.
“Untie him,” Song Tunan ordered, turning away.
The executioners complied. Forty lashes in, no one could fight back.
The iron shackles loosened. Without support, Yun Chu stumbled, barely catching himself on the torture rack.
Song Tunan’s tone was laced with restrained fury. “A coup and an attempt to seize the throne—do you want that accusation to fall on Her Highness? Do you know how many people are waiting to extract a confession from the prisoners? If you truly cared for Her Highness, you should just die cleanly.”
“But, Minister Song,” Yun Chu gasped, his mind racing despite the pain.
After all, in this political storm, there were those trying to shift all the blame onto Li Yunli.
“The prisoners are low-ranking soldiers. Whether they claim to be Wei soldiers or impostors depends on the narrative. Their testimonies will be inconsistent and unreliable. His Majesty wants to protect Her Highness, but to truly corner her, they need my confession.”
Yun Chu’s lips curled into a faint, pale smile. “And I—will never say a word.”
Song Tunan scoffed. “You’d better not.”
“Thank you, Minister Song,” Yun Chu rasped.
Song Tunan narrowed his eyes. “Thank me?”
“For taking me to the Ministry of Justice before anyone else could get to me. It was for Her Highness’s sake. For that, I am grateful.”
Even if Song Tunan didn’t trust him, it was clear where he stood.
But in the end, even under his protection, torture was unavoidable.
Song Tunan’s voice was cold. “If you understand that much, then you should know—here, you won’t get off easy. You’d be better off dead.”
Yun Chu’s breath was ragged, but his voice was firm. “Yet I choose to live.”
Four days. That will be enough.