Chapter 148: Imprisonment

That mole—no stranger should know. Yet he could not trust a stranger's word alone. He shredded the letter. "Prepare the carriage!"
He sent his boy to knock at the east-city address while he watched from the curtained coach.
A thin boy opened—eight or nine, old eyes—face a mirror of Zaiqing's. Shen Wan's breath stopped. Liuzhou had no other kin; this was her son.
"Do you know Chang Zaiqing?" the servant asked.
"My mother—why?" the boy said.
Shen Wan closed his eyes. Truth.
"Investigate Liuzhou—everything on her!" he rasped.
He had prized Zaiqing's grace and her pregnancy—if she had husband and child, the fairy mask was filth. Days he avoided her, busy in the study; she thought office work.
Then Liuzhou's report confirmed all.
He nearly overturned the desk—raising another man's wife, Chen's feud public, censors waiting. Worse—he had dismissed Chen for this. Regret gnawed; career might sink with her. Power over passion—and the thought of another's wife in his bed sickened him.
A runner burst in. "Master—disaster!"
Shen Wan read two lines—face iron, fear underneath.
In the imperial study Wenhui raged, flung a memorial. Each line seemed minor—yet every line tied Shen Wan to Prince Ding Fu Xiuyi.
Nine sons—and Wenhui trusted Crown Prince and Ding most. Ding seemed idle; Consort Dong meek—comfortable balance. But princes and ministers too close enraged him—and idle Ding looking "false" enraged him more.
"Kill the chicken scare the monkey," Wenhui said darkly. "They think me a fool—I'll give them what they want!"
Courts turn in a night. Shen Wan had seemed merely incompetent—then officers seized the whole Shen house. Gossip said bad official work; the wise saw capital crime.
Passersby pointed at the fallen mansion—and at Shen Xin, who had split in time.
At Shen Manor Shen Miao smiled faintly. Luo Tan fisted her hands. "What goes around." Luo Ling frowned. "What crime warrants this?"
"His Majesty's fury—none of our business," Shen Miao said.
After the cousins left, Shen Qiu locked the door. "Sister—did you do this?"
She laughed. "Brother, can I tamper with Third Uncle's duties?"
He lectured on court danger. She sighed. "Truth—Chen Ruoqiu stabbed him. Years together—who knows his secrets better? He fell on his pillow's knife—not mine."
"How do you know so clearly?" he stared.
"I watch them fail—" she said with Xie Jingxing's reckless edge.
"And you didn't push?" His eyes bulged.
"Think what you like—I touch nothing."
He collapsed outside, muttering she'd learned shameless logic somewhere familiar.
Alone she exhaled. Wenhui moved fast—years of Shen–Fu ties in that memorial.
She had never forgotten her true enemy—not third branch self-destructing alone. Fu Xiuyi was the hidden snake. Hiding was over—open chess.
Fu Xiuyi's fear: exposed ambition. Shen Wan alone wouldn't topple him—but she'd peel his skin.
She sent for Mo Qing with whispered orders.
From mansion to cell overnight.
Shen Wan felt the house cursed since the split—or since Shen Xin's return two years ago.
Next cell: women—Old Madame and Zaiqing. Shen Gui asked, "What did we do?"
"Incompetence?" Shen Wan laughed bitterly. "When the throne wants you, any excuse suffices."
Zaiqing panicked—"Deliberate?" Once he'd soothe her; now Liuzhou's truth made her nausea sweet.
He waved her off. "Don't know."
He thought of the letter from a colleague—his rival's memorial listing Shen Wan and Fu Xiuyi's ties. Early wavering toward Ding looked like alliance. Chen, who knew private things—likely the knife.
Without Zaiqing, no Chen feud—no cell. Even the child in her belly felt alien.
Fu Xiuyi's spies brought word. He paled—domestic war dragging him in, Wenhui already suspicious at this sensitive year.
"Useless fool!" he snapped.
Pei Lang said, "Distance yourself—admit contact but blame Shen Wan's crawling—Your Highness was reluctant."
Fu Xiuyi agreed—sacrifice Shen Wan, pile guilt on the dead pawn.
"Shen family again," he said coldly. "Chen started it—yet someone seems to pull strings." He eyed Pei Lang, who stayed blank.
"Keep Prince Rui's manor watched day and night—double our guards—no fly in or out!"
Pei Lang's heart jumped.
Then a guard: "Crown Prince sends word—"
Fu Xiuyi's face changed. "Disaster!"
Wenhui hunting Fu–Huangfu links—Huangfu Hao asking through Crown Prince's channel—proof in the emperor's hands.
At Qin Manor garden Shen Yue gaped at the report. Huangfu Hao watched her—no grief, only shock.
"Whole house jailed—not mere bad work," he said.
She feigned sorrow. "How…"
He offered prison visit; she refused—afraid exposure as swapped bride and Qin concubine.
When he left she would write Chen—yet felt grim satisfaction: Zaiqing suffering too. Better Qin concubine than cell.
Next dawn Dingjing's new scandal: Tian Li knelt at the yamen drum—Shen Wan seized a married woman—tongue like a storyteller's, crowd swelling.
After the Chen–Shen lawsuit, gossip favored Zaiqing—poet's daughter, pregnant, wronged wife dismissed. Tian Li with marriage register and boy who looked Zaiqing shattered that tale—voluntary adultery, Shen Wan raising another's wife, green fields on his head.
Officials laughed—Shen house already in chains.
In Chen's back courtyard Chen Ruoqiu laughed until tears came—unwashed, despised by her family, yet she'd fed Shen Wan's rival the evidence and won.
Then bitter—she'd lost to a woman who abandoned husband and son. Too late to investigate Liuzhou first; Shen Wan's pride would have done the rest.
"Now what?" Shiqing asked.
"Yue'er has refuge. I'll leave Dingjing soon—" She clutched her chest. "Must see Yue'er first."
Huayi ran in. "Mistress—Second Miss—"
"Yue'er?"
"Her at Qin Manor—discovered!"
Huangfu Hao did not stop the officers. Shen Yue wept, clutched his sleeve—"No harm—go with them."
He frowned, sent men to learn palace news. A concubine shouldn't warrant this—something else moved.
She was a probe for Shen Miao, not worth angering Wenhui—he yielded.
He sent word to Prince Ding.
The thread pulled: Shen Wan's fall, Tian Li's drum, legitimate daughter as Qin concubine—swap marriage exposed—Shen house cursed.
Afternoon Shen Miao drew curtains for a nap—shadow moved. Xie Jingxing lounged on her bed, petting the white tiger shredding her silk.
"Who said you could—"
"Congratulations," he said. "Shen house in cells—Zaiqing ruined, Shen Wan regretful, Chen implicated, Yue'er jailed—not happy?"
She yanked his sleeve. "Send silver—don't need your body on my bed."
"Where's my sincerity? You hooked Fu Xiuyi too—more reason to celebrate."
Her hand loosened—he pulled her onto his chest, voice soft, eyes knife-sharp. "You stirred Huangfu Hao in. Old emperor won't spare Fu Xiuyi. Clever—afraid of burning yourself?"
Chen and Zaiqing were cover. Her target was Fu Xiuyi—Shen Wan tied to Ding, Yue'er to Qin—Wenhui would probe alliance. If Qin and Ding were allied, Fu Xiuyi's road cracked.
He saw through her shell.
"Fire already found me," she said coldly. "Any retreat?"
Without revenge, Shen Xin's glory still invited ruin—Fu Xiuyi would be enemy regardless.
"There's retreat," he said. "With me—fire won't touch you. Hide here. I'll cut you a path."
Her throat tightened—if someone had said that in the palace last life—
He noticed her heartbeat, smirked. She shoved upright. "You're sick. I'm a maiden—seen with you, unmarriageable."
"You're future empress—who could afford you?" He grabbed the tiger. "Since it's joy—I'll add flowers."
"What?"
"Fu Xiuyi annoys me—can't kill him together—kick him while down."
When Shen Yue's arrest reached Fu Xiuyi, he lost color.
"Swap bride—Qin concubine—" he cut the servant off, pressed his temples. "Shen family!"
Shen Wan's failed mission had dragged him in; he'd just framed Shen Wan—now Qin too. Surface: Yue'er; depth: Ming–Qin alliance. Wenhui wanted sole sway over Qin; Shen Yue looked like Shen Wan's bait for Huangfu Hao—and Shen Wan served Ding.
Fu Xiuyi and Huangfu Hao were bound.
"Too neat," he snarled. "Someone aims at me—Shen Wan is bait."
"Wait and watch—find who," an aide said.
"Not Zhou or Xuan—wrong style, too risky with Qin."
Pei Lang stood silent under Fu Xiuyi's gaze—Shen Miao's clear eyes surfaced—phoenix or beast? Impossible—yet Rui seemed to target him for her.
Watch Rui Manor—strike the soft spot.
Crown Prince's messenger arrived—Fu Xiuyi stood, then collapsed. "Done for."
In the jail Shen Yue clutched Chen. "Why us—we left Shen house!"
Zaiqing smiled thin. "You're still his daughter."
"Shut up, whore."
Zaiqing looked to Shen Wan—he ignored her.
Shen Yue savaged Zaiqing—Liuzhou husband at the drum, green hat jokes—Zaiqing trembled; Old Madame shrieked—married? A son?
Chen laughed. "Your pick, Mother—raising another's wife. Her son isn't Shen blood. Glorious gossip outside."
Zaiqing dropped the mask. "Shen house isn't clean—fifty steps laughing at forty. I barely tasted fortune before this pit."
Old Madame lunged—hair, nails, curses. Zaiqing fought back—market brawler vs bookish girl—until Zaiqing crumpled, blood spreading—a miscarriage in the cell.
Shen Wan watched like a stranger. Old Madame raved. Shen Yue hid in Chen's arms, smiling.
Zaiqing called "Huaisheng…" and faded.
Chen lied to Yue'er—"Small matter—we'll go free." She saw no hope in Shen Wan's dead eyes. They'd all die together—underground reunion.
Shen Gui muttered, "Evil luck since Father—or since Shen Xin left?"
"Shen Xin split us," Shen Wan said flatly.
Chen said softly, "That witch Shen Miao—touch her, fall. Since her change, the house rots—Ming'an too."
They stared. Maybe Shen Xin backed her—main line untouched while all else burned.
Shen Gui wanted Shen Xin dragged down. Shen Wan refused—"Too obvious—makes us traitors, them loyal."
"Crown Prince won't save us—who's angrier than us?" Shen Wan whispered. "Ding. Tell his spies we watch—main branch framed him."
Poison to the last: "I'll wait for you on the yellow road, Brother."
The case closed fast—whole Shen house executed, servants exiled. Public reason: "bad duty, great disaster." Hidden hand pushed; none spoke for Shen Wan.
Execution day Shen Miao went to watch.
"Don't—heads roll—nightmares," Luo Tan pleaded.
"I've never seen beheading," Shen Miao said.
Shen Qiu and Luo Ling joined; Luo Tan came, begging blindfold.
Crowds parted for guards—whispers: cold main line, or lucky split.
On the platform: Shen Wan, Chen, Shen Gui, Shen Yue, Old Madame—gags in Yue'er's mouth, terror in her eyes. Zaiqing had bled out— spared the blade, not the shame.
Shen Miao's lips curved.
Palace years—this row had stabbed her branch, killed Shen Qiu, broke Luo Xueyan, sacrificed Wanyu and Fuming.
Yue'er saw her—hatred flared. Shen Miao smiled down, chin lifted—looking at a dog.
Yue'er thrashed; a kick silenced her—then rage at another face.
Dongling in rich dress approached Shen Miao, curtsied. "Fifth Sister. Brother."
Shen Qiu nodded coolly. Dongling bloomed—no trace of the gray obedient girl—Wang Bi's favor showing.
"Pain?" Shen Miao asked.
"Just amusement," Dongling said, fan to lips as the sign fell—blood arcs.
"How pitiful," they said together—pity without mercy.
Heads rolled into dust—no burial, fire for traitors. Dongling invited her to Wang Manor; Shen Qiu frowned at the cold delight.
"Wang treats you well?"
"Kind family," Dongling blushed falsely.
Shen Miao turned away.
After they left, Xinghua complained Fifth Miss was rude. Dongling smiled. "A Wang young mistress is nothing to some. With Shen army and Luo soil behind her—even an emperor couldn't block her. High match isn't always good."
On the road Luo Tan asked about the timid sister—"People change," Shen Miao said.
A voice: "Sister Shen!"
A jade-pretty boy in pine-green—Su Mingliang, twelve, crowned like a miniature lord. Shen Miao almost failed to recognize the fat dumpling of two years past.
Su Mingfeng in matching blue smiled. "Forgive my brother's rudeness."
"Mingliang? You forgot my gift?"
He sulked; Luo Tan patted his head, praised both brothers handsome—Mingfeng awkward.
"Gift at home," she promised—war had erased the boy from mind.
Mingliang pointed at her wrist bangle. "Like Brother Xie's tiger ring."
Silence. The jade twin hoops hid needles—one of Xie Jingxing's box. She wore the simplest piece; Luo Xueyan had praised the water.
Mingfeng's face hardened; he gripped her sleeve through cloth—"Forgive me."
Shen Qiu bristled. "Bold!"
Mingfeng released, bowed. "Where did Fifth Miss get this tiger ring?"
"Traveling merchant—foreign goods. You know it?"
Disappointment flickered—then he asked to buy it.
Luo Tan choked—fancy men buying women's jewelry.
Mingliang asked if it was for a beloved lady.
She smiled. "Personal adornment—improper in a man's hands. Buy new at Treasure Pavilion—finer than mine."
Mingfeng retreated, then hesitated. "Have you seen the late Young Marquis Xie of Lin'an?"
She laughed. "Dead two years—how would I? Cursing me?"
They left. Luo Tan shivered. "Why ask about a corpse?"
"No more Su contact," Shen Qiu said.
"Any tie to Young Marquis?" Luo Tan asked.
"None. No connection." Eight words—Luo Ling looked twice.
Mingfeng paced all day. The tiger ring—one with Princess Rongxin, one on Shen Miao. Only Xie Jingxing made them—paired hoops with hidden blades, ugly tiger head he carved. Second stone had faint white streaks—given before the "death march." Fresh polish—not two years old.
Xie Jingxing dead—yet the ring lived on her wrist.
He ordered spies on Shen Manor—every move of Fifth Miss.
His parents overheard Mingliang's garbled tale—thought eldest wanted Shen Miao's jewelry from love—panic and hope. "Matchmaking post to Shen house!" the mother cried.
At Rui Manor Gao Yang read Congyang's chattiest report—Shen Miao's day line by line. Su Mingfeng's odd moment troubled him.
Ji Yushu bit an apple, misread a line. "Cousin Luo likes Su Mingfeng—cute match."
"Nonsense," Gao Yang snapped.
Xie Jingxing returned dusty, cold-faced. "Fifth Miss in trouble?" Ji blurted.
His step halted.