“Actually, I’ve been pondering a question since yesterday.”  

“Though the world is not entirely at peace, deaths among palace servants are hardly rare. So why was that eunuch witness so terrified, to the point of descending into such madness?”  

With this question, the subtle details hidden beneath layers of fog finally began to surface.  

Lin Qi was taken back when Sui Tan continued, her voice inexplicably heavy.  

“The scent of incense on Young Master Sun reminded me. I suspect that eunuch must have seen something else.”  

“As for what it was, we’ll know once we ask.”  

She stopped walking, and Lin Qi halted as well, looking up.  

Before them loomed towering black gates, the three bold characters “Dali Temple” radiating an icy, unwelcoming glare even under the warm spring sun.  

“No!”  

Equally unwelcoming were the imperial guards stationed at the gates of Dali Temple. The guard commander’s face was stern, his voice cold and unyielding.  

“We, the Imperial Guards, have been ordered to assist in the investigation of the commoner girl’s case at the hunting grounds. All distractions must be eliminated. Dali Temple is not a place you can enter as you please. No, I cannot permit it.”  

“Please?”  

Sui Tan clasped her hands together, blinking rapidly.  

“Look, you’re under the Third Prince’s command, and I’m the Third Prince’s person. We’re practically on the same side—just let me in.”  

Her words carried an ambiguous tone, and even the commander couldn’t maintain his rigid composure, stealing a glance at Lin Qi first.  

The latter stood behind Sui Tan with one hand covering his face, his head bowed as if utterly mortified. Thus, the commander hardened his heart and refused again.  

“No. Unless our Prince gives the order personally, no one enters.”  

Sui Tan’s eyes sparkled pitifully. “Not even if I’m the Third Prince’s most beloved future Princess Consort?”  

“No!”  

The commander instinctively rose to defend his Prince’s honor:  

“Moreover, Second Miss Qin, our Prince is wholly devoted to the nation. How can a young lady from a noble family say such—”  

Lin Qi, who had been silent until now, suddenly covered his mouth and coughed loudly.  

“—but then again, rules are dead, while people are alive.”  

The tone shifted abruptly, swallowing back all the righteous indignation that had yet to be spoken. The commander took a large step to the side, bowing respectfully to make way.  

“You are our Prince’s most beloved future Princess Consort. Of course, you may go anywhere under the Imperial Guards’ jurisdiction. Second Miss Qin, please.”  

“He’s been hysterical since last night, crying and screaming about ‘someone dying.’ Who knows what scared him so badly?”  

The jailer summoned to guide them to the dungeon grumbled as he led the way:  

“Our Dali Temple is small and understaffed. Second Miss Qin, if you could put in a word with the higher-ups to have him moved elsewhere, that’d be great.”  

Second Miss Qin awkwardly rubbed her nose, while the hidden guard beside her covered a chuckle with his hand.  

After the case of the murdered commoner girl was handed over to Dali Temple, those involved were naturally transferred to its dungeons.  

However, among the relevant parties, Young Master Sun was the bereaved lover of the tragically deceased girl, Eldest Miss Qin had the support of the Qin Ducal Residence and lacked sufficient evidence for conviction, and Imperial Physician Hu, as the head of the Imperial Hospital, had only been assisting and couldn’t be imprisoned.  

All things considered, the only living person detained in Dali Temple’s dungeons was the eunuch witness—powerless, babbling nonsense, and utterly deranged, much to the jailers’ frustration.  

On her own, Second Miss Qin naturally had no authority to act so boldly in Dali Temple. Fortunately, the jailer merely vented briefly before hastily unlocking the cell, clearly eager to send them on their way.  

“Second Miss Qin, please.”  

The cell door creaked open, and a chilling gust of wind swept through, inexplicably eerie.

Sui Tan’s hair stood on end, and she instinctively shrank back, taking a small, fearful step toward Lin Qi. He immediately moved closer to shield her.  

—The dungeons of Dali Temple, the most inescapable place in all of Great Liang.  

The eunuch witness was locked in the deepest cell at the far end of the dungeon. When Sui Tan finally saw him, she realized the jailer’s complaints had been an understatement.  

He was even more deranged than when she had seen him at the hunting grounds, curled up in a corner, his face covered in self-inflicted wounds.  

Blood obscured his eyes and mouth, leaving only a ghastly residue. His vacant gaze was unfocused, darting wildly as he muttered incoherently.  

The jailer lingered far behind, leaving only the two of them in front of the cell.  

The candle wick crackled. Sui Tan stared at the eunuch in the corner, her expression unreadable. But Lin Qi, who had been watching her closely, suddenly turned to her with concern.  

“Miss?”  

“It’s nothing.”  

After a pause, Sui Tan slowly shook her head and crouched down.  

“Eunuch,” she said softly, stopping at eye level with him, meeting his hollow gaze. “About that day, I have a question for you.”  

The eunuch kept repeating, “Someone died,” but Sui Tan knew he could hear her. So she continued, voice steady:  

“That day… what you found—was it really just a *corpse*?”  

“Ah—!”  

The question seemed to tear him from his nightmare. The eunuch let out a piercing scream.  

His skeletal hands clawed wildly at the air, as if desperately fending off some unseen horror. His thrashing grew so violent that even the distant jailer craned his neck to look.  

Lin Qi stepped forward, ready to pull Sui Tan behind him, but she stubbornly remained crouched in place, refusing to retreat.  

“Physician Hu said she died from being thrown headfirst to the ground. So I think… what you actually saw that day was a corpse with only half a head, walking around normally before collapsing on its own.”  

She stared unflinchingly at him, pressing the question—though it was unclear who was forcing whom to face the truth.  

“Am I right, Eunuch?”  

A brief, eerie silence followed.  

“Gh—ghost! A ghost—!”  

The eunuch screamed, finally breaking free from his repetitive chant of “Someone died” and howling a new terror.  

The horrors of that day seemed to materialize before him. He lifted his head, trembling hands reaching toward Sui Tan, his sunken eyes filled with the desperation of the dying—pleading for help, or perhaps uttering a final cry before plunging into the abyss.  

Sui Tan didn’t flinch. She neither retreated nor turned away. Lin Qi couldn’t see her expression, but when he glanced over, he noticed her slender fingers trembling violently, clenched tight in the shadows.  

Suddenly, the eunuch’s eyes rolled back, foam bubbling from his lips. Overwhelmed by terror, he collapsed, convulsing uncontrollably.  

Yet even in his final moments, his trembling fingers still stretched toward Sui Tan—a last, instinctive grasp for salvation.  

“Don’t look.”  

A warm hand covered her eyes, gentle as water amidst the piercing screams.  

Sui Tan blinked, her lashes brushing against Lin Qi’s palm like tears.  

“Lin Qi… in his condition, can you arrange care for his family?”  

“Of course. I’ll see to it.”  

After this brief exchange, silence stretched between them.  

The only sounds left were the jailer’s shouts as he rushed over to restrain the eunuch from further self-harm, and the scuffling as they dragged his spasming body away.  

The dungeon remained as grim as ever, the oppressive quiet gradually returning.  

Throughout it all, Lin Qi’s hand never left her eyes. The only thing Sui Tan could see was the lines of his palm—his long life line, stretching as if drawn across lifetimes.  

“…Lin Qi.”  

Still crouched, Sui Tan hugged herself and spoke softly. She felt cold.  

“…If not for me, that murder at the hunting grounds might never have happened.”  

If she hadn’t meddled—if she hadn’t snatched the invitation back for her elder sister, forcing her to attend the spring hunt—then there would have been no scheme to frame her sister, no murder, and that commoner girl would still be alive. The eunuch would still be unharmed.  

What once happened had been undone, and what once never happened had come to pass.  

She had tried so hard to change the course of fate, only to realize the cost had been paid by other innocent lives. The ripples of her actions had swept them into the abyss.  

“It’s not your fault.”

Her helpless head drooped near his hand. Even though he knew it wasn’t appropriate given their current roles, Lin Qi couldn’t resist gently stroking her hair with his free hand.  

Her hair was soft, just like her.  

“The one who should feel guilt and remorse for the suffering of the innocent is the schemer behind it all.”  

The hand that once drew bows to hunt eagles now rested on her head with unexpected tenderness. Sui Tan quieted under his soothing touch before suddenly pulling away the hand covering her eyes and looking up at him, as if struck by inspiration.  

“Heaven grants me strength to sever injustice, to vanquish evil—even if crushed to bones and dust, I shall never yield.” 

These were the bold words the thirteen-year-old Third Prince had declared when leading his first campaign against the vast invading hordes, his army of a million deployed at the frontier, his spirit indomitable.  

Now, traversing mountains, lakes, and six years of time, those same words were spoken softly by another in the dim, lightless dungeons of Dali Temple. Lin Qi froze momentarily before his eyes curved into crescents, warmth flooding his gaze.  

“Yes. Even if crushed to bones and dust, I shall never yield.”  

…

After this interrogation, the eunuch witness had completely lost the ability to testify. But Sui Tan had already obtained the information she needed.  

Once she composed herself and left the dungeons, she went with Lin Qi to the morgue for final confirmation.  

Despite the case dragging on for so long, this was the first time the two had personally seen the corpse of the girl who had caused so much turmoil.  

She lay quietly on the mortgage table, waiting alone for the world’s final justice.  

The room was silent, inexplicably desolate. Lin Qi stood guard to the side, sword in arms, while Sui Tan gazed at the corpse’s half-shattered skull. For a long moment, neither spoke.  

“Lin Qi, did you know she also had someone she loved? Her engagement to my former brother-in-law-to-be was forced upon her.”  

Sui Tan gently wiped the grime from the corpse’s forehead with a silk handkerchief as she spoke:  

“Bullied in life, exploited in death—such is the fate of the insignificant.”  

Lin Qi, too, fell silent.  

Outside, the spring sun blazed at noon, bathing the world in warmth. But within the morgue, separated only by a wall, the weight of their conversation stifled all words.  

He opened his mouth, but a thousand thoughts condensed into just a murmur of “Miss,” leaving him unable to offer any real comfort.  

The silk handkerchief moved inch by inch, slowly restoring the girl’s delicate features—a serene face in death.  

Finally, as the last stain was wiped from the lower half of her jaw, Sui Tan looked at her and spoke again.  

“Lin Qi, after accompanying me all this time, do you know what my so-called truth is?”  

Lin Qi nodded, then shook his head.  

“Years ago on the frontier, I encountered an esoteric art.”  

His voice grew heavy:  

“It could command spirits and manipulate corpses. Enemies on the battlefield would rise again and again—even with just an arm or a leg left, they’d crawl from the ground to keep fighting.”  

He sighed. “I suspect this is the same corpse-manipulation technique.”  

“This girl… likely died before the spring hunt even began.”  

Outside, the distant shouts and laughter of patrolling imperial guards drifted in, only to dissolve into the chilling desolation of the room.  

Sui Tan sighed softly, though it was unclear what she was lamenting. With one last glance at the corpse, she covered it with the white burial cloth.  

“Lin Qi, summon the coroner.”  

“This time, we only need to confirm the time of death.”