Chapter 8

“This… ah, my son has brought shame upon our family…” Su Youwei muttered, covering his face with one hand.

The second young master of the Su family was carried in, bound tightly, and wrapped like a worm. Yet his mouth was anything but restrained—he kept shouting that he wanted to go find Xiao Li.

“You unfilial son!” Su Youwei roared. “How dare you behave so outrageously before Prince Jing!” His rebuke brought a brief hush to the room.

Lying on the ground, Su Ming seemed to realize something. He began crawling toward them, calling out, “Prince Jing! Please, I beg you to seek justice for Xiao Li! Your Highness!”

Li Jin frowned slightly as he watched the scene.

This second son of the Su family was clearly a man ruled by emotion.

He said nothing, set down his teacup and fixed a sharp gaze on Su Youwei, waiting for an explanation.

Seeing no way out, Su Youwei hesitated, then reluctantly began, “A misfortune in the family… My second son is of marriageable age. I’ve introduced him to many respectable girls, but he refused them all. Instead, he insists on…”

Su Youwei’s face twisted with wrinkles and sighs. Finally, he pointed at Su Ming and exclaimed, “This unfilial son! He insists on marrying a courtesan as his legitimate wife! It’s disgraceful!”

Before Su Youwei could finish lamenting, Su Ming shouted back, “So you had her killed, didn’t you? Didn’t you?!”

Everyone saw it—Su Youwei flinched, visibly unsettled. After a moment’s pause, he flew into a rage, stomping toward his son. “You wretched boy! Not only bewitched by that woman, now you accuse your own father of murder?!” He raised his foot, ready to kick.

“Su Youwei,” Li Jin said calmly, smiling as he watched. “Why so eager?”

Su Youwei paled, his foot suspended mid-air. Ignoring Li Jin’s words, he aimed a kick at Su Ming.

In a flash, Zhou Zheng pulled Su Ming aside. His long blade, always sheathed, was drawn for the first time. The tip of the sword pointed coldly at Su Youwei’s brow.

The small guest hall fell silent.

Li Jin leisurely picked up his teacup, blew away the foam, and glanced at Su Ming. “Why did you say your father killed her?”

Su Ming, shaken by the scene, suddenly sobered. After a pause, he said quietly, “…I spoke in anger. I have no real evidence.” He glanced at Su Youwei, still frozen with Zhou Zheng’s blade at his brow.

“But…” Su Ming hesitated, then made up his mind—to speak one last time for the woman he loved.

“But that day, I passed by Father’s study and overheard everything. He didn’t say to kill Xiao Li, but he did tell Steward Liu to ‘teach her a lesson.’ And he used my name to lure her to Peach Blossom Valley.”

At this, Su Youwei staggered back, his face contorted in pain. His blood pressure surged, and he collapsed into a chair. He knew the truth could no longer be hidden. He beat his chest and wailed in anguish.

“I only meant to discipline that courtesan! Who knew Steward Liu would hire such people—they actually killed her!” His face turned pale. He clutched his chest, sobbing uncontrollably.

Later, Liu Cheng’an searched the entire Su estate but found no trace of Steward Liu.

They split into three teams to search his usual haunts. When they finally found him, Steward Liu had already committed suicide by poison.

The case, at last, reached its conclusion.

Now freed from his bindings, Su Ming stood in the Su family courtyard, dejected. He couldn’t face his bedridden father, nor did he know what to do next.

“Who would’ve thought the young master of the Su family was so deeply devoted,” Li Jin said, standing a meter behind him, watching the twilight turn the sky crimson.

Su Ming gave a hollow smile, turned respectfully, and bowed. “Thank you, Prince Jing…” He stared at the stone tiles beneath his feet, unable to say the words: “Thank you for seeking justice for Xiao Li.”

His elder brother had died young. Now, Su Youwei was gravely ill from the ordeal. The future of the fishery weighed heavily on Su Ming’s shoulders.

“I know my father meant well. I know Steward Liu was just following orders. But I couldn’t accept it.” He looked up at Li Jin, whose gaze was steady and regal. “That day, I tried to rush to Peach Blossom Valley to save her. But the steward brought men and bound me right under my father’s nose.” He couldn’t speak further.

Li Jin, standing on the steps, looked down at the lost and broken young man and said coldly, “You’re still selfish.” He lifted his chin slightly, eyes filled with disdain.

His so-called plea for love was just a way to clear his own name—even if it meant throwing his elderly father under the bus. His so-called romance had, over time, included another woman. Calling it righteous? It was self-serving.

Li Jin had no respect for such a man.

On the way back, Jin Shu sat across from Li Jin in the carriage, watching him rest with his eyes closed, hesitating to speak.

“If you have a question, ask,” Li Jin said, eyes still shut.

She paused, then cautiously asked, “…In my experience, noblemen often treat courtesans as beneath them. Didn’t Your Highness feel this case was beneath you? That a mere courtesan wasn’t worth seeking justice for?”

She regretted the question immediately. In a rigid, hierarchical society, it was a bold overstep.

But Li Jin opened his eyes and looked at her seriously.

“All under heaven belongs to the emperor. All within the realm are his subjects. As a prince, everyone I see is a citizen. What courtesan? Justice is a right—not a favor.”

Though Steward Liu was dead, Liu Cheng’an continued the investigation. Within two days, he tracked down all the perpetrators.

In the magistrate’s study, Liu Cheng’an shook his head and sighed. “They lusted after her, committed vile acts, and feared she’d report them to the Su family. So they tied her up and threw her into a well—drowned her alive.”

In the room were Liu Cheng’an, Li Jin, and Jin Shu, who had been standing there for ages, anxiously waiting to settle the massive restaurant bill and reclaim her old house.