Chapter 29: Bonus Chapter for Four Thousand Reviews
As he was about to leave, Cheng Yun suddenly turned back.
“Is your face any better?”
“A little red,” Wen Biesang replied. “But it’s hard to tell clearly.”
“You know very well that if the news of slapping the crown prince spreads, you’ll have no way out but to bear the consequences.”
Wen Biesang nodded solemnly.
Satisfied that he wasn’t trying to deceive him, Cheng Yun finally stepped out with ease.
Standing with arms crossed, he let the palace attendants help him change. As he turned his body, he saw Wen Biesang obediently standing nearby, with Pang Qi personally dressing him.
Seemingly brushed against somewhere accidentally while adjusting the clothes, Wen Biesang’s eyes curved into a smile as he softly pushed Pang Qi’s shoulders. “It tickles.”
“Is this your first time being served?” Pang Qi asked.
“My mother helped me dress before.”
“From now on, this servant will dress you every day.” Pang Qi squatted before him, slipping his hand inside the clothes to encircle his waist. “This strap—how strange...”
He fumbled around, and Wen Biesang slowly chuckled but did not refuse the kindness.
Cheng Yun watched expressionless. Once he was ready, he asked coldly, “Done?”
“All done.” Pang Qi finally found the strap and said, “Why is this stitch so far off? Luckily, young master’s waist is slender, or it wouldn’t hold.”
Wen Biesang just smiled.
Looking up at the crown prince, his smile faded.
Indeed, the waist was very slender, especially wearing this style with a defined waistline, making it appear as delicate as a slender grip.
Cheng Yun reached out. “Let’s go.”
Wen Biesang calmly placed his hand in his palm.
Arm in arm, they stepped outside. The carriage was waiting at the gate. Cheng Yun helped him up, then suddenly beckoned to Pang Qi beside him.
Wen Biesang was already seated inside. Through the carriage window, their words were inaudible, but Pang Qi’s face instantly paled, while Crown Prince Cheng Yun’s lips curled slightly as he stepped forward.
Wen Biesang knew that expression too well—whenever the palace’s grim enforcer did something wrong, this was the look he wore.
Cheng Yun sat inside; Wen Biesang passed by and distanced himself.
Sensing something, Cheng Yun patted the seat beside him. “Come closer.”
Wen Biesang didn’t move. “What is my status now?”
He truly couldn’t figure it out. Cheng Yun was going to offer congratulations, bringing him along—how was he supposed to explain this to the Zhou family without being beaten to death?
“Your belt is crooked.”
Wen Biesang looked down and shook his head. “It’s not crooked.”
“Let me fix it.”
“No, it’s not.” Wen Biesang trusted his own eyes. “Pang Qi is very good at dressing.”
“That agate clasp is fastened wrong.”
Wen Biesang poked the agate jade at his waist.
Cheng Yun patted the seat again. Wen Biesang finally sat down. Cheng Yun reached out, untied his belt, and the waist-bound garment instantly loosened.
Looking up, Cheng Yun met Wen Biesang’s gaze resting on his hand.
Cheng Yun hooked around his waist and drew him closer, then slowly retied the belt. “It should be tied like this.”
Wen Biesang observed the hand moving at his waist. When it was finished, he found nothing amiss.
But such things didn’t matter much. He suggested, “Can we stop by the fireworks shop? I have no firearms on me.”
“Afraid?”
“Afraid you’re conspiring with the prime minister to trick me.”
“...” Cheng Yun took out a wooden box from his side, removed the lid, and took out a concealed arrow. “Hand.”
Wen Biesang extended his hand. Cheng Yun rolled back the sleeve of his outer robe, pressed his fingers to his pulse, and gently attached the concealed arrow. “There are eighteen of these in total, enough for you to handle the prime minister’s household guards.”
Once Cheng Yun finished, Wen Biesang tightened the arrows himself, fitting them snugly to his wrist, and shot five times at the carriage wall with sharp whistles.
Outside, Qi Song hurriedly asked, “Your Highness, what happened?”
“Nothing.” Cheng Yun’s face was stern as he looked at Wen Biesang. “What are you doing?”
Wen Biesang dismantled the concealed arrows, then pulled arrows from the carriage and reassembled them. “Preventing you from tampering with the concealed arrows. If they jam halfway, they’ll be useless.”
Cheng Yun said, “You don’t trust me at all.”
“If I didn’t trust you at all, I wouldn’t have come with you.”
“You didn’t come to the prime minister’s residence just to witness their disgrace, did you?”
“You didn’t come just to bring me for a laugh, did you?”
...
In front of the prime minister’s mansion, Wen Biesang stared up at the plaque with an expression as if looking at a grave.
Inside, the steward hurriedly reported, “Prime Minister, His Highness the Crown Prince has arrived.”
“The Crown Prince?” Zhou Cangshu wore plain clothes, his expression dark. “What is he here for?”
“To offer condolences, but...”
“Go on.”
“He brought along the young master from the fourth house.”
...
At the prime minister’s funeral, mourners included not only Cheng Yun but officials of all ranks. Upon seeing the crown prince, they all bowed. Cheng Yun motioned them to rise. “I am here to offer condolences like everyone else; no need for formalities.”
Though he said this, many glanced toward Wen Biesang by his side. The portrait of Meng Yao was known throughout the country, and the events in Dingdong Alley had spread across the city.
“Offering condolences but bringing the culprit along...”
“Isn’t this stabbing the Zhou family right in the heart?”
“Keep your voice down...”
White silk hung all around the mansion. In the main hall lay a coffin. Zhou Lianqiong must be truly dead.
Wen Biesang scanned the crowd when suddenly, someone staggered forward—it was Zhou Xuan.
He stopped ten paces away, breathing heavily, staring daggers at Wen Biesang. Wen Biesang met his gaze, cold and unflinching.
“Your Highness,” Zhou Xuan didn’t bow but trembled as he pointed at Wen Biesang. “What does this mean?”
“This?” Cheng Yun tilted his head and said, “This is Miss Sangzi, my newly acquired favored concubine. I heard she had some connection with Young Master Qiong and came specially to offer condolences.”
Silence fell. Wen Biesang turned to look at Cheng Yun.
Zhou Xuan couldn’t believe it. “She—she’s a girl?!”
“Yes,” Cheng Yun said, “disguised as a man.”
The guests remained silent. Only Zhou Xuan breathed heavily.
Suddenly the wind picked up, and the white silk fluttered wildly, as if stirred by the dead’s unwilling resentment.
Zhou Xuan looked aggrieved, glancing at Wen Biesang, then at Cheng Yun.
Cheng Yun scanned the crowd, his expression doubtful. “You all didn’t see it?”
The crown prince’s notorious arrogance was well-known at court. With the empress wielding the Thunderstorm Staff and the methods of the Stability Office clear to all, anyone targeted could be accused of numerous fabricated crimes. Besides, few present were without blemish.
Someone chimed in, “We did see; so she’s Miss Sangzi.”
“A girl, indeed. I saw right away she was a girl—no man this beautiful!”
“Yes, yes. The crown prince has good taste. Miss Sangzi is truly lovely...”
“Oh, so she’s the crown prince’s favored concubine. My apologies.”
...
Cheng Yun smiled with satisfaction and looked back at Zhou Xuan.
“This concubine of mine wishes to offer a prayer for Young Master Qiong.”
Zhou Xuan’s lips moved, eyes bloodshot. After a long pause, he said, “Please.”
At that moment, a piercing scream erupted. He Ruyan burst out from a corner of the mourning hall. “You bastard, return my son’s life!!”
Her silver hairpin gleamed as she thrust it toward Wen Biesang.
Wen Biesang flicked a concealed arrow and slowly raised his hand.
Suddenly, Cheng Yun wrapped his arm around Wen Biesang’s waist, stepping forward to shield him. His eyes glinted sharply, watching the silver hairpin that was about to strike him with faint amusement.
“Bang!” A foot shot up and kicked He Ruyan’s hand. The next moment, a heavy slap landed on her face, sending her sprawling uncontrollably to the ground.
He Ruyan clutched her face, stunned. “Father...”
He Yuanzhou turned and knelt down. “My daughter just lost her child and, in grief, lost her mind. She has offended Miss Sangzi and nearly harmed Your Highness. She deserves death and begs Your Highness’s mercy.”
Cheng Yun looked down at the person in his arms, whispering, “Are you alright?”
Naturally, he was fine. Once this woman had a weapon, she wanted to kill anyone she saw.
Wen Biesang nodded and straightened himself.
Cheng Yun, a little regretful, supported He Yuanzhou with one hand. “You may rise, Lord He.”
He Ruyan was helped up by Zhou Xuan. Now she finally realized she had nearly harmed the crown prince. Overwhelmed by grief, anger, and fear, she sobbed, “Yes, I was not in my right mind. Please forgive me, Your Highness.”
Cheng Yun said, “Since you are not in your right mind, you should return to your room to rest. There are many guests today; if anyone dies, it would be difficult to handle.”
He Yuanzhou looked to Zhou Xuan, who immediately said, “Someone, quickly help Madam back to her room!”
“I still have to watch over Qiong’er...” He Ruyan was dragged away, tears streaming. “Qiong’er, your mother is powerless and cannot avenge you. Wait, wait, I will cut off that bastard’s hands and offer them before your spirit! Just wait—”
At this moment, Zhou Xuan clearly realized the crown prince’s visit today was to stand up for the illegitimate child.
Continuing toward the mourning hall, Wen Biesang caught sight of an elderly man standing at the entrance.
Their eyes met. Zhou Cangshu remained expressionless; Wen Biesang’s face was impassive.
“Prime Minister Zhou,” Cheng Yun approached. Zhou Cangshu bowed. “Your Highness the Crown Prince.”
“I come today to offer condolences and to consult you on a matter.”
“Today may be inconvenient.”
“It concerns the Xingyuelou case.”
Wen Biesang stared at Zhou Cangshu without blinking but could read no emotion on the deeply wrinkled face. The prime minister slightly raised his hand. “Please, Your Highness.”
Cheng Yun took a step forward, then paused. “Qi Song.”
“Yes.”
“Since the prime minister’s household is in mourning today, some may be overwhelmed with grief and lose their minds. Protect Miss Sangzi well. If anything happens to her, bring me their head.”
“Understood!”
The crown prince didn’t look back and followed the elder prime minister into the inner chambers.
Zhou Xuan stopped Wen Biesang beside the mourning hall, his gaze filled with resentment. “You’re a young lady. Aren’t you afraid to come to the mourning hall?”
The implication: You killed someone and still dare to come back—don’t you have a guilty conscience?
“My ears aren’t good,” Wen Biesang said casually. “I can’t hear the howls of vengeful ghosts.”
Zhou Xuan’s face twitched. Wen Biesang strode straight into the hall.
Before the altar knelt a man, pale-faced, with red handprints and scratches from sharp nails on his neck and face—Zhou Lianjing himself.
He was staring blankly at the burning joss paper, not looking up no matter who entered.