Chapter Seventeen: Fleeing to the Grand Court of Justice

After waiting a while without seeing her father return, Mingchu had no choice but to go back to Ruohua Pavilion.

She pulled Yuewu into the courtyard.

“Yuewu, I once gave you a chance to leave, but you missed it. Let me tell you, you won’t get another chance like that. In short, if I don’t let you go, you simply can’t leave.” Mingchu stood akimbo, feigning fierceness.

Yuewu wore a slight smile at the corners of his lips. “Such a domineering young lady won’t be able to marry, you know.”

“Hmph! I have no intention of marrying anyway.” Mingchu puffed out her cheeks and sat beside Yuewu, a trace of sorrow clouding her brow. She already understood that life would not always go her way.

Not everyone would indulge her whims, her tantrums, her tears the way Yuewu did.

Seeing her like this, Yuewu said, “Don’t dwell on unhappy thoughts.”

His eyes glimmered with concern; how he wished Mingchu would never grow up, forever remaining that carefree little girl.

He loved to see her smile—her sorrow pained him.

Mingchu stared at Yuewu, catching the ripples of emotion in his eyes.

In that moment, she saw herself reflected in his gaze.

She had to admit, Yuewu was the most beautiful person she had ever seen—a beauty as solitary and upright as a lone pine.

When he smiled, it was like the spring wind caressing flowers—pure and kind. When not smiling, he appeared aloof, his thick brows radiating heroic spirit.

Mingchu’s face burned as she quickly averted her eyes. She thought that even Pan An, whose charm once filled carts with fruit thrown by admirers, or Wei Jie, who could steal the hearts of women with a glance, might not compare.

Meanwhile, Mingrou sat in her room with her mother, her expression cold. “Mother, I will not marry! Who is Du Zhong, don’t you know better than I? Everyone says he has no interest in women at all!”

The princess’s eyes flashed. “Nonsense! If Young Master Du doesn’t like women, what, do you think he likes men?”

“Hmph!” Mingrou snorted. “Anyway, I refuse to marry him! I heard he’s a ruthless man, obsessed with torturing prisoners.”

“Enough. All these excuses just because you don’t want to marry him. Then who do you want to marry? Han Qingcai?” The Princess of Jiang spat out the name.

Mingrou flushed but refused to back down. “Mother, marriage decides a woman’s lifelong happiness. Qingcai and I are of one mind and have already pledged ourselves to each other.”

“Marriage is not child’s play.” The princess softened her tone. “The Du and Jiang families have been close for years, both supporting the Crown Prince. Besides, Du Zhong is upright and holds a high position. You won’t suffer by marrying him.”

“If he’s so wonderful, why don’t you marry him yourself?!”

Smack—the princess’s palm landed.

Mingrou looked at her in shock. The princess stared at her own hand, regret flickering in her eyes. “Mingrou.”

Mingrou ran out, clutching her face. She rushed back to her room and threw herself onto her bed. Her maid, Caichun, stood beside her.

“Miss, don’t be too upset. Young Master Du is actually quite a good person.”

Mingrou sat up, her eyes red as she glared at Caichun, who quickly fell silent.

After a moment, a glint of cunning flashed in Mingrou’s eyes. She commanded, “Caichun, give me your clothes!”

The Du residence was on the west side of the city, with red gates and a black plaque, flanked by two stone lions exuding silent authority. Two guards with swords stood solemnly at the door.

“Excuse me, sir, I’d like to see Young Master Du. Could you let him know?” Mingrou, disguised in Caichun’s clothes, pleaded with the guards.

“Young Master Du isn’t at home. If you want to find him, you’ll have to go to the Court of Judicial Review.”

“Where is that, please?”

“Go straight ahead, turn left once, then right, and you’ll see it.” The guard answered patiently.

Mingrou thanked him and hurried off, thinking she should have gone there directly in the first place.

At the Court of Judicial Review,

In the solemn main hall, Du Zhong sat behind his desk, his expression grave. A young man stood below.

Du Zhong placed a petition for redress on the table. “Where is that woman now?”

Wang Chengcheng cupped his fists. “Sir, Chen Shishi is still at the guesthouse. Do you need her brought here?”

Du Zhong tapped the table lightly, shaking his head. “No need.”

This was the latest case the court had received. The Su family of Jiangzhou—over twenty people—had been massacred in a single night. The county official, Lin Songchang, confessed and was executed. Afterwards, his wife traveled a great distance to the court to appeal for justice, penning this petition.

“Wait—Jiangzhou!” Du Zhong suddenly looked up.

Three months ago, the Second Prince’s tutor, Hu Xiaolin, was also murdered on the way to Jiangzhou. All evidence afterward pointed to the Crown Prince, who was then put under house arrest.

“Sir, have you thought of something?”

Du Zhong’s brow furrowed deeper. “There are obvious doubts in this case, but the Prefect of Jiangzhou brushed it aside. Now Lin Songchang is dead—no one left to bear witness. Just who is the prefect protecting?”

Leaning back in his chair, Du Zhong’s gaze grew intense. “What secrets are hidden in Jiangzhou?”

“Find Chen Shishi. I’ll go with her to Jiangzhou,” he ordered coldly. Without solid evidence, he dared not act rashly.

“Yes, sir.”

Watching Wang Chengcheng leave the hall, Du Zhong massaged his forehead, his mind a tangled mess. The Su family were wealthy merchants with no involvement in court intrigues.

Whose interests did their existence threaten? And Hu Xiaolin just happened to be murdered en route to Jiangzhou. Jiangzhou, Jiangzhou—was it coincidence or was there a connection? Everything was shrouded in fog.

“Why can’t I go in? I insist on entering!” Mingrou fumed at the steps of the court. The two guards, thinking her a troublemaker, drew their swords at her.

“Go away! Move along!”

Du Zhong, walking out the main gate, heard the commotion and glanced over, surprise flickering in his eyes. At the same time, Mingrou spotted him.

Dressed in purple robes and wearing a jade pendant—he must be Du Zhong, head of the Court of Judicial Review. “Lord Du, I need to speak with you!” Mingrou called loudly.

Du Zhong raised an eyebrow and waved the guards away.

“Lord Du, may I have a word in private?” Mingrou cleared her throat, meeting his gaze.

Du Zhong nodded. “This way, please.”

They walked to a side path beside the court. Mingrou took a deep breath and spoke plainly. “I heard you came to my house to propose, and my father agreed. But it’s useless, because I won’t marry you. I already have someone I love.” She looked at Du Zhong defiantly.

Du Zhong regarded her calmly, his dark eyes unreadable. At length, he said, “You don’t remember me?”

“Huh?” Mingrou was bewildered. They had never even met.

“Never mind.” He smiled slightly, the harshness softening from his features. “I’ll be going to Jiangzhou for a while. When I return, I’ll marry you.”

Mingrou gaped in astonishment—was he deaf?

Du Zhong said nothing more and strode off.

“Du Zhong! What’s wrong with you? Are you deaf? I… I told you I love someone else!”

Du Zhong paused. “If he is willing to marry you, I will never mention our marriage again. If he is not, then when I return, the wedding will proceed.” There was a hint of teasing in his tone.

Mingrou stared after his tall figure, her mouth agape in shock. “Do you mean it?”

Du Zhong lazily raised a hand by way of reply.

Mingrou stood dazed, watching him walk away. Was he joking with her, or was he serious? Was he just teasing her?

Never mind, she thought. She would arrange to meet Qingcai—how could he possibly refuse to marry her? At the thought of Han Qingcai, her cheeks flushed. She spun in place a few times, unable to contain her joy.