Regarding the Wu Mansion, the Dali Temple guards had already searched it thoroughly and found nothing suspicious. As for Xiaoxi’s lover, people in the household knew about him—it wasn’t exactly a secret. Moreover, everyone in the Wu Mansion could vouch that he hadn’t gone anywhere near the eastern part of the city on the night of the Lantern Festival.
While Tao Siqing was questioning the others, Tao Chuyi played by herself nearby. When she grew tired of it, she cast her gaze toward Nangong Yunshang. But since the princess wouldn’t play with her, Tao Chuyi had no choice but to amuse herself.
As she lifted her head, she spotted a maid carrying a copper basin toward the back courtyard. Tao Chuyi glanced around furtively—no one was paying attention to her. In the next moment, she slipped away after the maid.
The maid headed to the main residence of the Wu Mansion. Tao Chuyi hopped onto the roof, pried up a tile, and peeked inside. There on the bed lay a person—a young woman clad only in her inner garments, lying motionless on her back without a sound.
“Madam, it’s time for your sponge bath.”
No matter how the maid tended to her, the lady showed no response.
Tao Chuyi poked her head in for a closer look. No one else noticed, but she accidentally locked eyes with Madam Wu.
Once the maid had left, Madam Wu began to struggle. It seemed she couldn’t move her entire body, yet she strained upward with all her might, as if desperately trying to reach Tao Chuyi.
Without a second thought, Tao Chuyi followed her instincts and sensed that Madam Wu had something to tell her. She slipped into the room.
“I didn’t mean to peek.”
Tao Chuyi fidgeted awkwardly, unsure where to put her hands.
Madam Wu’s lips parted, but no sound came out. She closed them again, and soon tears welled up in her eyes. One droplet slid down her cheek.
Tao Chuyi panicked at once. Had she scared the woman into crying?
“I’m sorry—please don’t cry.”
Unsure what Madam Wu meant, she noticed the woman’s fingers twitching. Curious, Tao Chuyi stepped closer and placed Madam Wu’s hand atop her own.
Madam Wu’s index finger trembled as it traced a few strokes across the back of Tao Chuyi’s hand.
Tao Chuyi couldn’t make out what it was supposed to be. Just then, the door burst open.
“Someone’s broken into Madam’s room!”
With the maid’s shrill scream, Jurén Wu stormed in, seething with rage. When he saw who stood by the bed—the prince consort—his face twisted through several emotions before he forced himself to hold back.
“Isn’t it rather improper for the prince consort to enter my wife’s bedchamber?”
“The prince consort is here to assist with the investigation. No place is off-limits for a search.”
As she spoke, Nangong Yunshang strode into the inner chamber and pulled Tao Chuyi to her side.
“Since Jurén Wu has come to visit his wife, we won’t impose any longer.”
No one dared to stop them as Tao Chuyi trailed behind Nangong Yunshang all the way out of the back courtyard. She was utterly distracted, her mind replaying the marks Madam Wu had drawn on the back of her hand.
What character was that?
Back at the Princess Mansion, Tao Chuyi refused to play, no matter who tried to coax her. She sprawled on the bed instead, tracing shapes in the air. The servants all fretted that her trip to the Wu Mansion must have left her deeply shaken.
She couldn’t get it right in the air, so she wandered into the study and raided Nangong Yunshang’s fine rice paper. Sheet after sheet, she scribbled away, but nothing resembled the character she wanted.
Nangong Yunshang arrived at the sound of the commotion and found the floor littered with crumpled paper balls.
“What did the paper do to deserve this?”
Tao Chuyi scratched the back of her head with the brush, puzzled why she couldn’t replicate it.
“What’s gotten into you? Feeling a sudden urge to study?”
Nangong Yunshang found it quite novel—the sun must have risen in the west.
She circled behind Tao Chuyi, took hold of her hand, and wrote a character. Tao Chuyi leaned in close to inspect it. It was her own surname: Tao.
But she wasn’t pleased. She gestured wildly at Nangong Yunshang. “I want to write this one—not that one.”
Nangong Yunshang was baffled, unable to tell which was which.
“What do you mean? A cow? Birthing a calf?”
At those words, Tao Chuyi froze. A cow… birthing a calf…
Livestock?
“I got it—beast!”
Amid Tao Chuyi’s animated gesturing, Nangong Yunshang suddenly understood.
Why would a paralyzed wife scrawl the word “beast” on a stranger’s hand?
There was no time to waste. Guards from the Princess Mansion raced to the Dali Temple with the news. Almost simultaneously, Tao Siqing dispatched men to seize Madam Wu and bring her there, barring Jurén Wu from any visits.
Nangong Yunshang summoned imperial physicians from the palace. After their examination, they revealed a shocking truth.
Madam Wu wasn’t suffering from any illness. She’d been poisoned into muteness, rendered immobile because her hands and feet had all been broken. Only the tendons and bones in her right hand had mended slightly over the years.
“Broken?”
Nangong Yunshang was stunned. It seemed the supposedly devoted husband, Jurén Wu, might well be the villain responsible for his wife’s paralysis.
Before the physicians departed, Nangong Yunshang had them take Tao Chuyi’s pulse as well—to ensure she was unharmed. Through the beaded curtain, the doctor couldn’t see who sat opposite.
Nangong Yunshang sat primly nearby and asked casually, “How is he?”
The imperial physician’s expression grew peculiar. “Your Highness, this patient’s pulse is highly irregular—beyond this one’s humble skills to diagnose.”
“And if his mind isn’t right? I mean, something like idiocy—could it be treated? Is it congenital?”
Nangong Yunshang pressed.
The physician looked surprised, then fell silent for a long moment before replying. “Your Highness, it’s not congenital. It stems from something that happened later. Could be from external trauma… or some internal change.”
Nangong Yunshang was taken aback. “Not congenital?”
“Definitely not,” the physician affirmed.
Once he’d been sent away, Tao Chuyi bounded out at once and tugged at Nangong Yunshang’s sleeve, begging her to play.
Nangong Yunshang looked up at her, her gaze shadowed and inscrutable. “What secrets are you hiding, exactly…?”
After a full consultation at the Imperial Hospital, Madam Wu’s bones could finally be set, and she regained the power of speech.
It turned out Jurén Wu suffered from impotence and infertility, which twisted his temperament. He flew into rages without reason and harbored an obsessive need to control his wife. The slightest disobedience earned her a savage beating.
Unable to bear it any longer, Madam Wu fought back fiercely. Jurén Wu went all in: he poisoned her voice away, shattered her limbs, and kept her confined to that room. Three whole years passed like that.
He didn’t stop at her. When drunk, he took out his frustrations on the household maids—beating them half to death, waiting for them to heal, then beating them again. His official career had stalled for years, filling him with resentment that he vented without mercy. Meek as a mouse outside, he lorded over his home like a tyrant, always bullying the vulnerable.
His favorite saying was, “If they don’t obey, just give ’em a beating. It’ll fix ’em right up. They deserve it—and once they’re beaten, they obey.”
Xiaoxi’s death had come from defying him and witnessing his abuse of his wife. To silence her, he’d strangled the girl, preserved the body with some special method, and dumped it later. Madam Wu had seen the whole thing, helpless to speak or move, with nowhere to turn for justice—until Tao Chuyi had stumbled upon her.
The day Jurén Wu was captured, he was still hurling curses and refusing to own his crimes. Whether he felt remorse or not hardly mattered anymore—he would face justice.
The neighborhood gossip came crashing down. The man once hailed as a devoted husband became the most reviled figure in the city. Citizens of the capital—especially the women—banded together in petitions demanding the harshest possible punishment.
When the death sentence was announced, women cheered in the streets, eager to watch the pig-faced beast meet the executioner’s blade.
Yinghong shared their outrage, tinged with regret.
“What a waste of his scholarly title. Imagine if that talent had been bestowed on the prince consort instead.”
Nangong Yunshang glanced toward where Tao Chuyi romped wildly with Fifteen, a smile softening her eyes unbidden.
“The prince consort possesses qualities that those so-called prodigies could never attain in a lifetime.”
Yinghong’s curiosity piqued. “Such as?”
“A pure, childlike heart.”
Wherever Nangong Yunshang’s gaze fell, it found Tao Chuyi.
“Talent, wealth, status—no matter what they’ve got, a rotten heart makes them unworthy of pity.”
In the blink of an eye, Tao Chuyi had vanished. A closer look revealed her dashing back from the Plum Grove, windswept and dusty, clutching a branch of crimson plum blossom as she ran to Nangong Yunshang.
“Sister, pretty!”
Nangong Yunshang accepted the flower, her scarlet lips curving. “Is the flower pretty… or am I?”
Without hesitation, Tao Chuyi declared, “You’re prettier, Sister! Prettier than every flower!”
“Sweet talker.”
Nangong Yunshang reached out to tidy her hair, then cupped her chilled little face.
“All you know is play. Don’t go catching a cold now.”
Tao Chuyi hoisted Fifteen aloft. “I’ve got it—I can use it to warm up.”
Fifteen’s doggy face wore an expression of utter despair.
Nangong Yunshang drew her close and settled her by the brazier to thaw out.
“Jurén Wu faces the execution ground tomorrow. Are you going?”
“Nope!”
Tao Chuyi answered firmly. “He’s no fun. Boring.”
For some reason, Nangong Yunshang found herself inexplicably fond of stroking Tao Chuyi’s head—the soft fluffiness was addictive.
“Fine. Whatever you say.”
Tao Chuyi nuzzled happily into her palm.
“Sister, I want roast goose!”
“Done.”
Tao Chuyi pressed on. “And roast chicken, braised duck, braised fish…”
Halfway through, Nangong Yunshang pinched her cheeks, puffing them out like little buns.
“Is your whole body just one big stomach? Planning to stuff yourself to death?”
Finding speech inconvenient in her glee, she hooked an arm around Nangong Yunshang’s shoulders instead. Slippery as an eel, she flung herself atop the princess, sprawling over her completely. They toppled to the floor together.
“Get up, quick!”
Nangong Yunshang patted her back to no avail; she couldn’t budge her.
Tao Chuyi ignored it all. She’d latched onto her sister now—no escaping.
“Your Highness, about today…”
Yinghong turned back, froze on the spot, and took ages to process the scene. Only when her princess glanced sideways did she snap to and whirl around.
“This servant saw nothing!”
This was way too stimulating.
“Tao Chuyi, get up.”
“No!”
She wasn’t letting go now that she’d grabbed hold. Tao Chuyi thought to herself, no way was she falling for that trick.
With no other choice, Nangong Yunshang pulled out her final trump card.
“There’s roast duck in the kitchen. Don’t sneak any bites.”
Tao Chuyi looked up, her eyes darting about as she scrambled off Nangong Yunshang’s body in an instant and bolted toward her beloved kitchen.
With the little ancestor finally gone, Nangong Yunshang could at last catch her breath. Even as Yinghong helped her to her feet, she remembered to instruct the kitchen staff to prepare some roast duck—making it nice and easy for the Prince Consort to pilfer.
“Is the Prince Consort just brimming with too much energy? Your Highness’s body isn’t strong—what if you can’t handle it?”
Yinghong muttered to herself.
Her words entered Nangong Yunshang’s ears without missing a beat. Nangong Yunshang clutched her chest and let out a muffled cough.
Her lifetime of hard-earned reputation… it was all ruined at the hands of that little fool.
