Chapter 66: The Two Wrongly Accused

“The Analects?”

The Emperor thought he must have misheard and instinctively looked at Li Yunsheng, hoping for confirmation.

He remembered The Analects was sitting on the Crown Prince’s bookshelf, a text scheduled for study after the New Year. Yet this little girl, Yao Yao, was supposedly going to study The Analects?

Even the Emperor himself had only read it thoroughly at the age of seven. Now he found himself being surpassed by a little girl.

The Emperor’s thoughts were in turmoil, momentarily forgetting he had come to investigate a case.

When he heard Yao Yao say that it was the young heir (Se Shizi) who had taught her, the Emperor looked at Xie Yixing again.

Xie Yixing hadn’t said a word the whole time, but his gaze had been fixed on Yao Yao. Seeing her converse with the Emperor so naturally, a smile of contentment surfaced on his face.

Just like that, everyone could tell Yao Yao was his.

At that moment, the Empress arrived.

The Emperor had to suppress his curiosity and invited her to sit beside him.

As soon as the Empress sat down, her gaze fell on Yao Yao.

She had heard the Emperor was questioning two children at the palace hall and rushed over, thinking he was in a bad mood and venting on the children. But upon arrival, she realized she had overthought it.

The Emperor looked toward her. “Is Sang Ning awake?”

The Empress shook her head. “Not yet, but the imperial physician said there’s no danger to her life.”

“That’s good,” said the Emperor.

He didn’t want the Duke of Xu coming after him during the New Year, especially when the incident happened in the inner palace—he was responsible.

The Emperor had a strong suspicion that this matter was somehow connected to Consort Wei. Before arriving, he had already sent someone to monitor the area near the Chang Le Palace. Chatting casually with the little girl from the Chengming Marquis household was just a way to stall for time, so as not to alert the culprit.

At that time, Yao Yao had no idea she was about to be dragged into a dispute.

Just as the Empress, with the Emperor’s blessing, began questioning everyone, a young palace maid suddenly started crying with reddened eyes.

Though she tried to keep quiet, the Emperor and Empress noticed her immediately.

The Empress asked her to step forward and explain, and the maid immediately knelt down, begging for mercy.

The Empress sensed something was wrong and asked, “Which palace are you from?”

The maid trembled. “I serve in Noble Lady Yuan’s quarters. I was just passing by today.”

Noble Lady Yuan had only entered the palace last spring and hadn’t served the Emperor many times. The Emperor had little impression of her and was even less familiar with her attendants.

Still, he darkened his expression. “Why are you crying?”

Compared to his stern tone, the Empress was gentler. “If you’ve been wronged, speak freely. If your words prove true, I will support you.”

The maid shook her head. “I… I dare not speak.”

After she said that, she lowered her head, gripping the floor so tightly that her fingers trembled visibly.

The Emperor was visibly displeased. “What’s there to be afraid of? This is my palace. If I can’t protect you, who can?”

He loathed people who beat around the bush—better the straightforward honesty of a child.

He glanced over again at Yao Yao, who stood quietly at the edge, her fair little face still so delightful.

He couldn’t help but think of his own children. He had several sons but only one daughter, Princess Junhe.

Because Junhe was the only “red flower” in a sea of “green leaves” in the inner palace, even though his affection was mixed with some ulterior motives, he still genuinely doted on her more than on his sons.

At least more than the princes.

The sixth prince had once accidentally broken a rare peony in the imperial garden and was grounded for a full month. Since then, he would detour at the sight of peonies—clearly traumatized.

Then there was the fifth prince, who had been caught cheating while reciting to the Emperor. He was punished with copying texts a hundred times. After the New Year’s Eve banquet, he went straight to his room and copied scriptures all night.

Even the crown prince, despite regularly reporting his academic progress, was not particularly close to his father. Every time the Emperor reviewed his work, he would find even the smallest mistake for correction.

Just days ago, the fourth prince had clashed with Princess Junhe in class. In a fit of anger, Junhe tried to strike him with a riding crop, but accidentally hit the crown prince instead. He had rushed forward to shield his brother.

Despite taking the blow, the Emperor scolded him for being useless—unable even to control his own sister—how could he one day rule a nation?

To the princes, the Emperor was a strict father.

So once they heard he was coming, they all made excuses to leave and ran to their mothers.

That was why when the Emperor arrived, not a single prince was present—not even the crown prince.

Of course, the Emperor could sense they were avoiding him. But he didn’t know why.

His gaze then drifted to the Empress’s belly, hoping this time she would give birth to twins—a dragon and a phoenix. It had been a long time since the palace welcomed a new child.

Aside from Junhe, he wished for a well-behaved, sweet child—like a little cotton-padded jacket to keep close.

Junhe, under her mother’s influence, had already become quite calculating. The Emperor wasn’t blind. He could tell Consort Wei hoped to use her daughter to secure a future son.

But bearing a son wasn’t something she could decide on her own.

Back in the present, the maid noticed the Emperor’s tone growing colder and decided to speak up.

“Your Majesty, this servant knows who pushed Miss Xu into the water.”

Hearing her finally get to the point, the Emperor’s expression softened a little. “Who?”

The maid raised her head timidly, carefully glancing around. Then she lifted her slender hand and pointed at the two figures—Xie Yixing and Yao Yao.

“It… it was them!”

As soon as the words left her mouth, a cold glint of light swept across her cheek—like a blade slicing through the air. Her facial muscles twitched as though a real knife had passed by.

The Emperor followed her gaze to Xie Yixing and Yao Yao. The young marquis showed no change in expression—his face impassive, eyes unreadable. His thoughts were well hidden.

But Yao Yao, beside him, placed her chubby hands on her hips and shouted angrily, her round cheeks puffed in indignation.

“How can you lie and falsely accuse good people? Me and Persimmon Brother didn’t push anyone!”

The maid, seeing Yao Yao flustered, suddenly turned sharp-tongued.

“You say you didn’t, but do you have any witnesses?”

Witnesses?

Yao Yao shook her head.

She didn’t remember anyone else being nearby while she ate her pastries.

Nurse Wu had told her that not many people entered the palace just to eat today.

When Persimmon Brother led her around to indulge, the others had already scattered off in small groups to play elsewhere.

Yao Yao’s eyes reddened with frustration.

Being wrongly accused felt horrible.

Xie Yixing had been watching Yao Yao’s emotions closely. Seeing her frown slightly, a murderous glint surged in his eyes.

He had never entered the palace before, but that didn’t mean he didn’t understand its rules.

He hadn’t intended to stir trouble in the inner palace, but someone was clearly trying to fling mud on him and Yao Yao.

The chill in his ink-dark eyes made his pale face look even more frosty, the killing intent radiating from him thickening the air in the room.

Though present, the Emperor didn’t intend to let them speak right away.

After all, the maid didn’t look much older than them. The scene of three youngsters confronting each other felt like a children’s play, and the Emperor didn’t care to involve himself in what he thought was a trivial matter.

He decided to observe for now.

Xie Yixing let out a cold smirk. “You say we pushed someone—so what proof do you have?”